#i need to get BELOW AVERAGE WEIGHT GOD THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING

[honeymoonhospital]

Drawing thinspo in my notebook xoxoxo

[pinoyrella]

“A Love So Beautiful” Chapter 6

Chapter 6: “It’s Not A Big Deal”

FT: Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Yachi Hitoka, Ono-Sensei, Y/N’s Parents + Manami Aoki.

TW: Mild Language

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Coming of Age + Slow Burn

- This chapter contains mostly drama, and fluff thanks to Kageyama.

- This chapter is also slight Kageyama x Y/N

WORD COUNT: 4,800+

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

A/N: BA BOOM! Hi everyone, I hope I didn’t leave you guys hanging too long with that cliff hanger??? Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the endless support, LUB YOU ALL!!💖

The sound of an alarm brings you to consciousness. Keeping yourself under your covers, you turn to glance at the clock, ‘07:00a.m’. It’s been two days since Karasuno had defeated Shiratorizawa. It’s been two days since you’ve gone outside. It’s been two days since you last saw him.

Groaning as you slip the warmth weight of your blanket off, you step out of bed feeling the cold tile of your bedroom floor chill you. Making your way to the bathroom, you stop by the sink, staring at your reflection.

Throughout the weekend, you have cried yourself to bed. For the past three nights in a row, waking up tired, red and sore eyes every morning. You have barely left anywhere but your room, only making occasional trips to the bathroom, and to the kitchen.

Being stuck in your room left you with no motivation to do anything at all. You were already behind in all of your studies, but you couldn’t find it in you to move from your bed.

You’ve barely talked to anyone at all, not your friends, not your parents, you’ve isolated yourself to everyone and everything. Is this what heartbreak is like? Is this even considered heart break? What is this?

You barely notice the presence that passes by the bathroom, your dad about to question why you’re just standing in front of the mirror, before his wife pulls him away into the kitchen down the hall.

“Wh- Hun?” “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it” “What?” Your dad questions your mom as she lets out a sigh. “Am I not allowed to ask our daughter why she’s been in such a depressing mood for the past weekend?” 

Your mom gives your dad a sincere look of worry, looking towards your direction before back at him. “She’s a growing teenager, she’s going through adolescents. I’m sure she’s fine.” She reassures, your dad giving a sigh of frustration. “You don’t know that, what if somethings wrong? She only came out of her room to grab snacks and use the restroom.”

 “Akiteru-kun called me the other night.” “What?” “He told me Kei-kun and Y/n got into some sort of fight-” “WHAT?!” Your dad is about to storm out to teach the younger Tsukishima a lesson for hurting his precious baby, before his wife stops him yet again. “She’s going to be alright, this is her aftermath from their argument. She fought with one of her best friends, this is a normal reaction. She needs time to herself, you need to be patient until she’s back to normal.” Your mom explains, your dad pausing as he processes the information.

The sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen causes the two to turn their heads to you, as you make your way to the fridge to grab a carton of strawberry milk, not even making eye contact with them before strutting out, getting ready to exit the house for school.

Your parents share a look with each other before letting out another sigh.

“I’m heading off” You say out loud as you slip your shoes on.

You poke the straw into the milk carton as you make your way out your front gate, looking up to realize Tsukishima parked out front on his bike, waiting for you.

Your eyes widen in shock, looking both ways before booking it down the opposite side of the street. The sound of your shoes hitting the ground causes Tsukishima to turn, watching as you run off the opposite way to school.

He lets out a sigh, memories of the past Friday flashing back. He feels the same awful and heavy guilt that’s deep in the pit of his stomach, deciding its best to leave you alone for now, giving you the space you needed, before riding off to school.

You barely make it to class in time, the moment you step in through the door frame, the bell ringing exactly, as the class turns to look at you.

You quickly take a seat, pulling out your notebook and pencils as Ono-sensei makes her way in.

“Good morning class!” She says as the class greets back. “Before we start of the day, let’s take the time to congratulate the four boys in our class, for helping their team make it to Nationals last Friday.”

The class erupts enthusiastically, turning to congratulate the four boys on the volleyball team once again.

You sink your head down, the cheerful attitude making it feel like you were suffocating.

Kageyama’s the first to notice, about to lean forward to tap your shoulder before Ono-sensei resumes her announcement.

“Now that’s over with” She reveals a stack of documents from her podium, dropping it harshly. “I’m sure you are all aware, midterms are approaching.” The class groans in anguish before she continues. “I know, I know. This is the last exam before your finals, the finals that will determine your placement next year.” She glances around the class, her eyes falling on you. “I need you all to start taking this seriously.”

You gulp in your seat as she calls for Manami to pass out the study packets.

“I have assigned you all into study groups of three, you are to complete this packet by the end of next week with your group. Afterwards, we are to take the midterm, understood?”

“Yes” The class replies in sync as she begins reading off her list of groups.

Your brain is spiraling, hoping you’re not placed in the same group as you know who, hoping at least she will spare you from having to work with that stingy bean pole, or at least have one of your close friends with you, for comfort purposes.

“Yachi-chan, Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun.” You sink as she had just announced that 3 out of the 4 friends you were hoping to be paired up with are called. You are praying to every deity out there, that you will be in a group with Yamaguchi. Better yet, you rather be paired with that she-devil Manami Aoki than Tsukishima.

Just as you thought your prayers were answered- “Y/n-chan, Yamaguchi-kun-” ‘YES!’ You thank the Gods, your mind feeling the content it had deserved all weekend. “and Tsukishima-kun.”

You drop your head to your desk, causing the attention of the class to be drawn to you.

-

You groan into your arms as Yachi tries to help you emotionally. “Y/n?” “Hey” You look up to make eye contact with Manami. “Ono-sensei is calling for you” She says before taking her seat.

You wave to Yachi before making your way out to her office.

“Ono-sensei?” You peak your head in, and she notices you by the door. Getting up from her seat, she greets you, offering for you to sit on the sofa just across her desk. “Y/n-chan, please come in!” You make your way to sit before she shuts the door.

“Manami-chan said you c-called?” You nervously ask, wondering why you were called up into your homeroom teacher’s office.

“Y/n” Her voice, stern as ever. “Your grades, what’s going on?” She questions as she looks directly into your soul.

You gulp yet again as she slips a paper over the desk from her side to yours. You lean closer, seeing the paper adorned with D’s and F’s, scores below 30, and ‘FAIL’ written on the page.

You look up to her, shaken and she’s aware of it. She sighs before her demeanor softens. “You know I didn’t bring you in here just to interrogate you, but I’m concerned. Your grades have been slipping since the beginning of the semester, you used to be in the average zone, now look.” She points to a bar at the end of the transcript. “You are very below average, you are in a very dangerous zone. If you don’t pass this midterm, you won’t qualify to even take the finals. You will have to repeat this semester.” She explains.

You look up to her, eyes watering trying to explain something. She gives you the look of remorse before taking the transcript back to her end, looking at it before looking back to you. “I know this is a very stressful and difficult situation, but you need to know that as your homeroom teacher, I’m here to help and assist you in every way.” 

You whimper a quiet “thank you” before she smiles, then continuing. “I am aware of your close relations to Yamaguchi-kun and Tsukishima-kun.” The names of your two closest friends causes you to glance up to her. “That’s why I paired you up with them for the study group. They’re two of the top students in our class.” She explains as you nod to her.

“They’re also your friend, I can trust them to help you.” You sigh, “Will you be telling my parents?” She adjusts her seating position before gazing back to you. “I already have.” She says before you give her an understanding nod. 

“I know at your age, it’s very stressful with so many events going on. You’re growing and understanding more about yourself, but you also need to grow and understand more of your academics.” You give her another quiet nod, before she lets out a final sigh.

“That’s all I wanted to inform you” She stands from her seat, making her way to the door opening it, before making her way to you, kneeling and placing a hand to your shoulder. “I believe you can do it.” You give her a hug and your thanks before heading out.

Walking down the hall, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan before bumping into someone. “S-sorry!” You squeak before looking up.

“Boss?” Kageyama looks down and notices the red swelling in your eyes. “What happened?” He asks, taking a step closer, using his blazer to wipe off your tear stained cheeks. You sniff before looking up to him and smiling. “It’s not a big deal, come on let's get back to the class!” You grab his wrist, dragging him with you.

As you sit, you watch as Yamaguchi notices you, giving a sweet smile before making his way over. “When do you want to start studying?” He asks you. “I’m alright whenever” You reply. “Tsukki- Um, we’re going to head to my house after school to study, will you be coming?” Your mind takes you back to what Ono-sensei had warned you, this midterm is very important. “Yes, I’ll be there Yams!” He gives your head a pat before going back to his seat.

-

Just as school ends, you make your way home first, informing Yamaguchi you were going to change into something more comfortable, and pick up some of the notebooks you left.

-

Back at home, you make your way in until your parents call out to you. ‘Shit, I forgot Ono-sensei told them about my grades.’ You curse to yourself before making your way to the dining table, sitting as your parents turn to you.

“Y/n” You watch your mom slap your dad’s shoulder. “Baby, we’re not mad” She starts. ‘No, but dad is’ You turn up to glance at your dad, he looks insane trying to conceal the fume burning through his ears. “But-” And so you were scolded by your parents for the next half hour, before finally changing, retrieving your notebooks and heading to Yamaguchi’s.

-

“Y/n!” The cheerful greeting coming from the freckled boy as he lets you in. You walk with him side by side to his room, as you walk in you make eye contact with the boy you were hoping to not see for the next 10 years of your existence. You sit down opposite to him on Yamaguchi’s kotatsu, before preparing your notebook. 

“We’re going to go over what Ono-sensei taught during math” Yamaguchi says, and you give a nod, still avoiding the blonde in front of you.

The tension in the room is absolutely crazy, Yamaguchi thinks of grabbing some snacks for the three of you, but doesn’t think of leaving you two alone in the same room. He stills with his head down to his notebook, thinking of how he can help with the tension in the room.

The sound of scribbling against the poor notebook paper, and the amount of eraser marks left around causes Tsukishima to glance up to your paper, watching as you were way off path from solving the problem.

Just as Yamaguchi had thought of an idea, Tsukishima speaks up.

“The auxiliary line’s wrong.” He states bluntly before bringing his hand closer to grab your notebook. You snap back immediately, pulling your notebook away from his grasp. “There’s answers in the back. I can read it.” You state before taking the math textbook from Yamaguchi, flipping it to the end, finding the question. 

You scan the page, finally finding the question before seeing that it doesn’t give you an exact answer. Tsukishima is aware of that, he knows the textbook like the back of his hand. He watches as you struggle and stare at the page before speaking up again. “Let me show you” he lightly grabs the end of your notebook, bringing it closer to him before you quickly snatch it back, not making eye contact with him. “I’ll do it myself.” You bark.

Yamaguchi sits in the middle, his soul already gone from his earthly body, watching the situation unfold. He has no idea what the fuck to do.

“You only know the word ‘answer’, everything in your notebook is wrong.” “But that’s what I wrote myself. It’s none of your business.” Yamaguchi glances over to Tsukishima, oh no.

“I don’t want to help you at all, but I have to because it’s required in case your grade humiliates the whole class.”

You freeze, the word ‘humiliate’ that left his mouth taking you back to last Friday in the infirmary.

Yamaguchi notices your triggered state before turning to Tsukishima, pissed. “Tsukki, don’t say that-” The sound of your notebook shutting aggressively startles the two as it cuts Yamaguchi off. You begin to shove your belongings into your backpack before looking up at Tsukishima, the first time all day. “Since our good boy Tsukishima Kei says so, I won’t put shame on your great class 4.” You turn to Yamaguchi, before turning back to Tsukishima. “I’m leaving” As you head towards Yamaguchi’s bedroom door, you hear Tsukishima scoff. “Leave? Whatever you like.” “FINE!” You yell before storming out.

-

It’s been another four days since that incident at Yamaguchi’s, you’ve been ignoring both boys. A bit guilty for Yamaguchi, but you didn’t want to drag him down with your ‘humiliating’ grades, you thought to leave him alone so he can focus on his priorities, studying.

You sat at the desk in your room. Your notebooks, stationary, textbooks and study guide sprawled out, but yet you still can’t concentrate. Even worse; your desk faces right outside your bedroom window, with a perfect view to Tsukishima’s. You look up to notice as Tsukishima’s bedroom door opens, watching him walk in before you immediately jump to shut your blinds.

You huff as you sit and stare at the blank page of your notebook for what felt like another hour, before grabbing your hoodie, making your way downstairs and out the front door.

You thought, if you can’t concentrate, you ought to take a stroll to maybe help clear your mind. You feel your throat become hoarse, dried out from the walking before you notice a vending machine. You make your way over, about to purchase a carton of strawberry milk before you realize, you hadn’t brought your wallet with you. Just as you began walking to continue your stroll, you nearly bump into someone.

Immediately apologizing, cursing your mind for being elsewhere rather than the road, you look up to meet the shock expression of a familiar blueberry eyed boy. “Y/n?”

-

And this is where you found yourself, sat outside of Ukai’s shop, besides Kageyama as you play with the straw that is poking out from the milk carton. Kageyama notices your behavior, thus asking why you were walking around almost past the sunset. 

You explain to him how you couldn’t concentrate on studying for the past week, before asking him why he was out.

“I’m just on my daily jog.” He says before looking back out into the sky.

The two of you sat in silence before the growl of your stomach caught the boy’s attention. You blush in embarrassment before he gets up, going back into Ukai’s, only to come out with two kare pans in hand. He takes your hand, pulling you up before handing it to you. The two of you walk, before stopping by a nearby park.

Taking a seat on the swing, you thank Kageyama again before biting into the kare pan.

There is this comfortable silence before your whimpers causes his head to turn to you.

You sit, swaying on the swing as you continue to eat the kare pan in hand. Kageyama, having no idea what to do, reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What’s wrong?” He asks worried. You look to him as tears continue to stream down your face.

You drop your hand holding the kare pan to your lap, before bringing the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your eyes.

“Ono-sensei says, if I fail this midterm, I would have to repeat the semester.” Kageyama nods as you continue, listening to the pent up emotions you kept to yourself this past week. “It’s just, it’s not that. It would be pretty stupid to cry over something so small, it’s not a big deal anyways” You admit before he states. “Don’t say that!” You look to him, giving a soft smile before continuing.

“In all honesty, I have no idea what I’m doing.” Your gaze falling back down. “I feel silly to chase after something I know I have no chance with, that I’m not good enough for, better yet, it’s not something meant for me.” You play with the wrapper of the kare pan as Kageyama listens. “Maybe this outcome was inevitable, I mean, I guess it was never meant to be. I’m just not it.” You admit, another tear streaming down. “I had my priorities all wrong.”

Kageyama gives you a look of confusion as he processes your thoughts, then coming with an idea of what you were talking about.

He watches as you bring the kare pan back to your mouth, taking a bite, your  cheerful mood returning after expressing your emotions.

Kageyama can’t help but stare and smile as your face turns into a look of delicious satisfaction from the tasty treat in your hands. You feel his gaze, turning to look back to him, he immediately turns his to the sunset from afar.

“Boss, look” He points as you watch the sun begin to set.

As the sunset catches your eyes, you catch Kageyama’s.

How beautiful the golden hour glow cascades onto your facial features, the way your eyes reflect onto the warm sun, and the smile slowly creeping across your face.

You couldn’t think of anything else but how beautiful the sunset looked, and Kageyama, he couldn’t think of anything else but how beautiful you looked.

The sun finally sets, and you two finish the kare pans in hand. You, actually finishing Kageyama’s too, before the two of you head off.

“I don’t want to go home yet” Kageyama turns his head to you, as you walk slowly.

“Can I show you something?”

-

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to intrude, Tobio!” You whisper to him as he holds the door to his house open for you.

You see as he rolls his eyes with a smile, before grabbing your hand and bringing you in.

He shuts the door behind you and asks for you to follow him, taking you to his backyard.

“Whoa-” You take a step out, as he shuts the sliding door behind you.

“Your backyard is huge! Is that an entire volleyball court?” You point to the volleyball net that spreads across his yard. “Did you invite me over just to show off your big backyard? I’ll have you know, my backyard may not be as big but-” You joke before he butts in. “No, come on I want to show you something.”

He walks closer to the volleyball net, you follow after him.

You bring your hand up to the net, grazing your touch over, feeling how worn out and used it has been. You turn to notice Kageyama bending over to pick up an object from the ground before turning to you.

You look and notice a volleyball, just as worn out and old as the net.

Your face contorts into one of confusion as he leans against the net, spinning the ball in hand.

“I used to practice with my grandfather everyday here.” He begins. “He was the one who had introduced me to volleyball, he had taught me everything I needed to know” You hear him sigh, standing from the net, looking up into the sky. “Both in volleyball, and in life.” Your eyes water, as your friend opens up to you. His gaze turns to you, “before he passed, he told me something” he walks closer to you, staring into your eyes, before lightly handing the old volleyball into your palms, his hands cupping the bottom of yours as you held the ball together. “If you get really good... I promise you... somebody who's even better will come along and find you.”

He lets go of your hands, leaving you with the ball as he looks back up to the sky.

“Though, I’m sure he was referring to volleyball with that.” He turns back to you. “I think, you can apply that saying to real life”

You bring a hand up to your mouth, trying to cancel the sob trying to escape. Kageyama immediately notices and comes to your aid. “I-I’m sorry- I’m not really good with this kind of stuff but-” He gets cut off with your sudden hug, as you sob into his chest.

“Thank you Tobio” You mumble, before pulling away. “I really needed that.” He gives you a sincere smile before the sound of the sliding door opens.

“Tobi- Oh? Is this the infamous Y/n-chan?” “Nee-san.” Kageyama calls out before she makes her way to you two.

“I’m Miwa, this loser’s older sister. Also known as, The Superior Kageyama.” She ruffles the top of Kageyama’s head before holding a hand for you to shake. You accept it, and introduce yourself.

“Wow, she’s even cuter in real life-” “Nee-san.” Kageyama gives his sister a glare before she laughs. “Are you guys hungry? I made pork curry.” You and Kageyama share a look of excitement, before the three of you making it back inside from the cold night weather. 

-

“Thank you so much for having me, Miwa-san” You bow as Kageyama holds the door open, waiting for you. “You are welcome anytime Y/n-chan” She waves as the two of you make your way out.

You two walk in silence as the cold breeze tickles your ears.

You make it just outside before you turn to thank Kageyama for walking you home, and for the sentimental night.

“Thank you for keeping me company tonight Tobio” You ruffle the top of his head, copying his older sister’s actions. “I hope I was able to help, you m-mean... a lot to me, I hate to see you upset” You turn to open your gate, missing the second half of his confession. “Yeah, you did.” You look to him. “I really needed that Tobio, thank you so much again!” You wave before heading in, he watches as you make it inside safely before making his way home.

“Y/n? Where have you been it’s late!” Your mom runs to you, worried for your safety. You explain to her and your dad that you needed to take a stroll to clear your mind off things. Your much cheerful behavior startling them, before you make your way up to your room to focus back on your work.

-

The following Monday, Tsukishima had gone to school without waiting outside your gate. He feels as this week has gone by so slowly, it feels so weird not having you around like usual. And now he has two things to be sorry for.

As his mind is in another place, he is startled by a voice calling to him. “Tsukishima-san” He looks up only to meet eyes with you, taken back by your formality, not used to you calling him that.

‘Can you please help me with this problem?” You ask, he nods before replying. “Library later?” You nod, giving a smile before heading back to your seat.

-

You two find yourselves alone in the library after school. Yamaguchi not being able to attend this study session, having to deal with volleyball stuff with Ennoshita and Daichi.

Tsukishima stares, watching as you seem very focused onto your studies, thinking of what happened, wondering how you are able to talk to him all of a sudden. Have you had enough space? Were the two of you okay now? Can he apologize?

“Y/n” He calls to you. “Yes?” You answer, bringing your attention back up to him. The two of you share a brief moment of gazing into each others eyes, before he breaks away, looking down to your notebook. “You got the answer wrong, let me help.” You agree, sliding the notebook over.

He takes the notebook, and begins erasing. You watch him until he asks suddenly, “What made you want to talk to me again?” “What?” He turns the notebook facing you, explaining the problem and what you got wrong. You nod, understanding before taking your notebook, and solving it again. There’s another moment of silence, before you slide the notebook back to Tsukishima for him to check the answer.

“I guess you can say, I have come to realize my priorities” “Priorities? What do you mean?” He asks, his eyes still on your notebook as he checks your answers. “I want to be in the top 15 students.” He brings his gaze up to that statement, looking at the burning determination in your eyes, until you blink, leaning on your arm. “Then I’ll find time to be mad at you.” You give a cheeky smile, missing the one he gives you due to your smart comment.

You take your notebook back after he informs you that it is indeed correct. You feel excitement bubble in you, “Can you help me with this problem too?” The two of you continue to study, each passing day as the week goes by. Meeting everyday after school, reviewing each term, and every lesson.

Before you realized, it was the day of the exam.

Just as you were about to grab a pencil from your case, you open it to find a letter stuck inside.

“Good luck pipsqueak” it reads. You smile, closing your case as you take a deep breath. ‘Let’s do this!’

-

A month has passed and the exam results are out.

You rush your way past the students crowding the scoreboard, finally managing to squeeze your way to the front, you immediately went on a search for your name. Your eyes scan the board, before you find your name, placed right next to the number 13. You have reached #13 in the top of your class.

In excitement, you turn around, hoping to find Tsukishima to tell him the good news. You turn only to find him in the crowd, looking towards you with a smile before walking away.

You smile back as you watch his figure walk off into the hall.

-

After school, the six of you find yourselves outside of Coach Ukai’s shop.

Hinata walking out of the store with Kageyama, a plastic bag filled with a pack of strawberry milk.

Your group finds their way to the nearby park, sitting before Hinata starts ripping the plastic from the pack, before handing each individual a carton.

“Today, we celebrate Y/n’s entry into the top 15! We will have strawberry milk instead of champagne! Cheers!” You laugh as you bring your milk carton up towards your friends, as the six of you clink the milk boxes together.

Just as you bring the straw to your lip, you catch the gaze of Tsukishima giving a sly smile, immediately turning away when your eyes meet his.

-

You split ways with your friends, making your way home with Tsukishima.

“Let’s go, quickly.” He says before he begins walking off. “If you want to go home so quickly, then carry me.” You bite back jokingly. “No” “Why not?” He takes a moment to think, letting out an audible hum. “Too tired.” You roll your eyes before catching up to him.

Staying quiet, the silence throughout the walk in much more calming than the existing tension before. But, it’s still not the same as it used to be.

As you see your houses approaching, Tsukishima calls out to you.

“Y/n.”

You turn, only to find him leaned down as he eyes you. You blink confused, before he stands back up. 

“Good job.” He gives you a genuine smile. “I’m proud of you.” What? You try fighting the blush running along your face. “Come again?” “No.” Just as he was about to turn into his house, you grab onto the ends of his shirt. It’s been a while since you last did that, and he missed it so much.

“Thanks Tsukki” You look up to him, giving him that smile he missed so much.

He brings his hand from his pocket up to your head, before ruffling your hair.

“Yeah, whatever.” You let go, waving to him before making your way inside your house.

He watches as you enter, letting out a soft smile.

-

Running up to your room, you strip your school uniform before hopping into your pajamas, immediately flying into your bed, clutching a pillow close to your chest as you look out your window, staring into his before turning to your back.

 Your eyes glued to the ceiling before you drift off to sleep, the last thing on your mind;

“I think I still like you.”

TAGLIST: @cvlliesstuff , @strawberries-en-cream , @beanst0ck , @kimiiiiiiiiii, @lucyheartfilias-wife , @lanatheawesome , @owlnymph​ 

PLEASE LEMME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS (OR IN ASKS) IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 🌸

A/N 2: I really do wanna thank you all so much for reading! You guys are all so sweet and kind and I just ksdhjncsdjk it makes me happy knowing someone is reading my, very cliche, sappy, bad english writing. Thank you to the ends of the Earth and back! You are just so, so incredible, so very incredible 💖

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

[sondepoch]

Chapter 4

Hearts on Three (Satan x Reader)

The athlete and the nerd. The rich kid and the scholarship student. The girl who will constantly joke about breaking your knee caps and the boy who will actually do it. There are so many ways to describe your relationship with Satan. Too many, if you’re being honest. He’s your best friend. The smartest tutor you’ve ever had. He also spends thousands of dollars for you at the drop of a hat and holds your hand when you’re feeling down. And in the beginning, that's okay. Neither of you let yourselves get bogged down by labels, both of you content to just savor this newfound friendship. But deeper feelings always have a way of complicating things. And for better or for worse, you and Satan are no exception.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

MASTERLIST

“Bro, you good?”

Satan blinks the sleep from his eyes at the feeling of a pencil tapping against his shoulder, groggily turning to face the owner of the voice that tore him from his precious slumber.

“...bwha?” is the educated response Satan can come up with in his sleep-addled mind.

Solomon snorts.

“Dude, this is the third time you’ve fallen asleep in class this week.” The white-haired athlete grins. “Keep this up and I’m gonna score better than you on tomorrow’s test.”

“We have a…”

Satan groans inwardly. He has a test tomorrow? The blonde blinks up at the board. It takes a second for his vision to clear, but then it registers that he’s in math class, and everything else falls into place. A quick scan over the whiteboard confirms that Satan didn’t miss anything important, that the chapter the teacher is covering is something Satan taught himself roughly two years back, but the boy still groans to himself in frustration. He doesn’t like to sleep through class. Ever.

“Thanks for waking me up,” Satan mumbles to his friend when he glances at the clock. It seems that Solomon let him doze for nearly the entire period, opting to wake him up a mere minute before the bell should ring. 

“No problem. But seriously, I’ve never seen you slack this hard. You good?”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired because…” Satan trails off, hesitant to confess that the reason he’s so exhausted is because of you. No doubt, Solomon would read way too deeply into that—nope, wait, it looks like Solomon figured it out on his own from the shit-eating grin he’s now sporting.

“Ah, your future girlfriend, is it?” Solomon leans back in his chair, grinning. “The love life is rough, buddy. Make sure you’re using protection at night, though.”

Satan has never been more relieved to hear a bell ring.

“Would you lower your voice?” He growls when a couple of kids passing by give him weird looks. Satan glares hard at Solomon, but the latter gives a grand total of zero (0) shits.

“Sorry,” Solomon says in a voice that makes it all too clear that he’s not sorry.

Satan has never hated his schedule more than in the next moment when he realizes that Solomon is in his next class and that they can’t split ways. Worse yet, it’s Physical Education—the stupidest course of all time because all it consists of is kids walking in circles for an entire hour and being “encouraged” to run. And somehow, to top it off, Satan always ends up walking with Solomon. 

“We’re not together,” Satan grunts to his friend when they’re outside doing laps around the track. “It’s just that it’s fucking hard to balance club duties, her volleyball schedule, and my own studies.” 

“I totally get it,” Solomon blurts. “But you’ve gotta get used to it, bro. Imagine how much harder it’s gonna be to when the two of you start dating! You’ll have to take her out on dates, and—fuck—have you ever been to one of her games? She has crazy stamina, man. The two of you’ll be at it all night.”

Satan thinks back to freshman orientation, wondering why, of all the places to sit, he chose the seat next to the most annoying person in the entire academy. 

“Solomon, can you shut the fuck up?”

Solomon, unsurprisingly, does not shut the fuck up.

With enough difficulty, Satan does finally manage to steer the topic away from Solomon’s matchmaking attempts and towards more normal topics. Namely, Satan’s matchmaking attempts. Of course, just as Satan places no weight on Solomon’s opinions on his love life, Solomon completely ignores Satan’s advice to stop beating around the bush and just ask Asmo out, the athlete having the nerve to say “I’ll ask Asmo out when you ask our volleyball captain out”—as if you and Satan have a remotely similar history to Asmo and Solomon, who, as now known by the entire campus, are both desperately pining for each other but are too dumb to see it.

Satan sighs, shaking his head.

Idiots, he thinks. I’m surrounded by idiots.

It’s to this thought that Satan hears someone calling his name in the distance: an extremely familiar voice, almost grating on the ears, but a voice he knows he should not be hearing. 

Satan shakes his head, deciding that he’ll clear up his schedule today so he gets a nap in because surely, surely he must be imagining you calling his voice. Surely you’re not actually on this track field. Surely you’re not cutting English, of all courses, a subject that Satan insists you pay extra attention to because it’s the single course you're most likely to fail.

“Bro,” Solomon whispers, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Satan closes his eyes, trying to see if pretending that he doesn’t hear your footsteps sprinting closer and closer towards him will make it so that they’re not real.

It doesn’t work.

“Satan!” You shriek, now close enough that he can’t pretend you’re a figment of his imagination anymore. “Satan! Satan, Satan, Satan!”

The blonde continues staring resolutely forward, committing himself to the ideology of I do not see it, therefore it is not happening.

Unfortunately, Satan sees it. And so it happens.

Without any warning whatsoever, you lurch forward and grapple on to Satan, wrapping your limbs around him like a literal koala as you yeet yourself onto him with enough force that Satan is just barely able to remain standing when you attach yourself to him while shrieking: ”Satan! Guess what, guess what!”

The blonde is at a loss for words, so dumbfounded and taken aback that it’s all he can do to sputter out a confused “w-what?” 

You grin at him with a smile so wide it looks like it hurts, and Satan can only stare as you reveal what made you so happy.

“I got an 85 on the Shakespeare test!” 

The Shakespeare test, the man thinks, trying to remember.

The Shakespeare test, he repeats in his mind, a vision of you cram-reading the final acts of King Lear flashing through his mind

The Shakespeare test! Satan realizes with a start, suddenly recalling how it was a test he expected you to fail.

Satan’s mouth drops open at that. He had been prepared for you to get a 20, a 30; the highest you told him to expect was a 60, and even that was below the fail margin, but an 85? Holy shit, Satan might cry if he got a grade like that, but for you, it’s a genuine accomplishment, and he’s fucking proud.

“You’re joking,” he blurts, already calculating how this will affect your average and, holy shit, it’s actually going to pull you up to a passing grade.

“I’m not!” you declare with so much happiness that it’s infectious, and then the two of you are hugging and laughing except that Satan’s literally carrying you so it’s awkward, but neither of you care because this is the highest grade you’ve pulled all year, and Satan is finally beginning to feel like the late hours and the sleepless nights are all worth it.

The two of you are grinning and beaming at each other even when you finally de-koala yourself from Satan and land on the ground; and it’s at this precise moment that Satan realizes just how many people are watching. 

The blonde clears his throat awkwardly. 

It felt so natural when you tackled Satan midair, but he’s now beginning to realize just how intimate that whole scene looked to any onlookers. He stiffens, and you seem to notice, your own demeanor turning sheepish in turn.

A low whistle from next to you diffuses the situation.

“An 85, huh?” Solomon slings an arm around your shoulder, sandwiching you between him and Satan as the three of you continue walking along the track field—effectively sending a message to anyone watching that the show is over. “Not bad, Captain, not bad.”

“It’s amazing, Solomon!” you cry out in turn, grinning as you lean into his shoulder. (Satan doesn’t feel weird when he sees that, he swears he doesn’t.) “I haven’t scored this high since, well, I dunno. I don’t really pay attention to the scores I get because they’re always so low!”

Solomon laughs at that, definitely remembering when he was the same way. 

“It’s all thanks to Satan, no?” Solomon prods, and the blonde shoots a sharp look at his friend. He’s up to something. Satan isn’t sure if he wants to know what.

“Oh, definitely! He literally read every single text out loud to me! I left this one book for the very last day, and he actually stayed with me and—”

“You need to get back to class,” Satan swiftly interrupts, his ears turning red. “You did well on one test, but you need to pay attention if you want to continue.”

“Oh, but—”

Satan practically shoves you away, gesturing wildly the whole time with a vigor that has you confused but compliant as you slowly depart, doubtlessly making your way back to the English building as slowly as you possibly can.

When you’re gone, Solomon snorts.

“You read to her?” He asks, expression brimming with mirth.

“It’s not—it’s an effective studying technique that we use to save time—”

“Oh my god,” Solomon mumbles under his breath, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Next thing you know, I’ll find out that she’s sleeping on your shoulder or something. Seriously, Satan, way to make a move early on.”

Satan is incredibly grateful that Solomon doesn’t see how his face changes at that part, a flush rising on his cheeks when he realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder not once, now, but several times. 

“Shut up,” Satan grumbles, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“No way, man!” Solomon cackles with laughter, finding great amusement in his friend’s frustration. “Oh my god, the two of you are so perfect for each other that it hurts! Here, take a look at this—”

Solomon pulls up his phone and opens up his Photo Gallery, swiping twice before handing it over to Satan.

“Just look at that, dude—” he gestures vaguely at the picture. “You two already look like you’re dating.”

Satan stares at the image, his feet slowing down. It’s a picture of you and Satan hugging, taken conveniently when you were still koala-ing Satan with your entire body because of course Solomon was able to get a picture that quickly, and although Satan can’t see either of your faces due to the side angle, even he has to acknowledge that the two of you really do look like a couple.

“It’s not like that,” Satan mumbles, shaking his head as he hands the phone back to Solomon. 

This might be the first time, though, that he actually entertains the thought of what it would be if it was like that.

It’s not a terrible thought.

You hate away-scrimmages for a lot of reasons.

The first reason is that, more often than not, the environment is hostile. The other team is always bound to have more support, more cheering, more motivation powering them forward while yours has nothing more than the girls on the bench and the loud voice of your coach. 

The second reason is that they always feel like a waste of time. Scrimmages, by nature, are meant to be an extension of practice. So what’s the point of a scrimmage if you spend more time driving to the school than you spend playing against the school? It’s totally backwards, in your opinion, and pretty stupid.

The third reason is the most compelling reason, though. And it’s probably because this is the issue you’re dealing with right now: the fact that at away-scrimmages, if there does happen to be someone from your school who puts in the time and effort to come watch, the pressure on your shoulders instantly triples. Scrimmages are supposed to be fun, enjoyable. They’re nothing more than practice matches to collect data and get ready for when you’ll go against the school for real—but when people from your school travel such a long distance to watch you play not even a game but a scrimmage, it feels like you owe it to them to bring home a win, to succeed, to make the match worth their while.

And while Satan doubtlessly had no intentions of adding to your stress when he asked to watch you play at today's scrimmage, that’s exactly what has happened.

“Listen, girls,” your voice is low as your team groups up in what will likely be the last huddle of the match. “I want us to win this. Really badly. Do what it takes, but bring home that victory.” You take a moment to recite the weaknesses of the other team, trying to downplay their skill and build confidence in your own teammates, but ultimately, you all know the truth. “It all comes down to how we play this point, girls, so let’s play our best.”

You glance around at your teammates, stealing a glance at the bleachers where Satan sits, watching the scrimmage.

You want to make him proud.

“Wolves on three: one, two, three—”

“Wolves!” your teammates echo, raising their fists as the lot of you split off into your serve receive positions.

As it stands, match point is weighing against you, and your team is at a heavy disadvantage. From what you’ve gathered on the opposing team, their libero is a literal legend when it comes to front row saves, and they have an amazing right-side hitter, one that easily rivals your own skill. This entire game, their team has been leading, but all your team needs to secure victory is a measly three points, three points that you know you can obtain if you try hard enough.

You crouch low, getting ready for the opposing team’s serve.

The first two points are easy for your team to get: the first point comes when the opposing team’s outside hitter rams the ball into the net, and the second comes when your team's right-side hitter manages a clean hit through a line of defense that jumped a second too late.

The final point, as always, is the hardest to get.

It just so happens that it’s your serve, so you consciously aim at what you think is the weakest link in the opposing team, but they’re able to recover. From then on, it’s an intense volley back and forth until it’s just you versus the right-side hitter, #18, the two of you fighting it out in a rhythmic contest of pass-set-hit that just won’t end.

It’s at this time that you feel the pressure beating down on you heavier than ever before. More than anything, you want to win. Not just because you’re naturally competitive, not just because you really fucking hate #18 right now (seriously, what business does she have being as good as you?), but because you know that Satan is watching. 

You really, really, really want to bring home a win for him.

It’s to this thought that you set the ball over on the first touch, sabotaging the flow of the game and ruining the other team’s momentum. 

It happens in slow motion as the ball falls, slowly, slowly.

The entire room seems to hold its breath as three girls on the opposing team, #18 included, all pancake-dive for the ball. Sensing their success, you bend your knees, preparing for the ball’s return.

It never comes.

The blow of the ref’s whistle is surreal, almost as faraway as the subsequent cheers of your own team, so empty and distant as they instantly group up for a team tackle—but for the first time, you don’t join them. 

Instead, you’re left staring up at Satan who, from his spot on the bleachers, is grinning down at you with a proud look on his face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to win a scrimmage. 

Everything else passes by in a blur. Your team regroups and changes out of your uniforms, and the lot of you board the bus that’s set to bring you back to the Royal Academy of Barbatos. 

You, however, stay back.

“I’ll get a ride from my tutor,” you tell your coach, bidding farewell to your friends. 

The man arches an eyebrow at you, asking once and then twice if you’re certain you don’t want to stay with the team, but you nod your head. 

Weird, you think as you go to find Satan, who’s waiting for you at his car. This must be the first time I’ve prioritized someone else over the team.

You decide not to dwell on that thought. 

Instead, you choose to think about how sick Satan’s ride is.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, gawking as soon as you see the car. “Satan, I knew you were loaded, but I had no clue you were this loaded.”

Satan laughs at your reaction, grinning when you can do nothing but stand and stare at the sheer beauty of it: a slick, black Bugatti with a single green stripe down the middle. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you coo, marveling at the interior when you slide into the passenger seat and slug your volleyball bag unceremoniously in the back. “Satan, I think I like this car better than I like you.”

The blonde gives a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he gets inside next to you. “I’ll let you drive it someday,” he offers.

You’re quick to decline, shuddering to think about how many more sports scholarships you’d need to ever pay such a thing off if you were to crash it. 

Satan can only smile at that, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“Your match was amazing, by the way,” he says before you can probe him about what he said. “It looked really intense. It’s impressive that you were able to keep a level head even at the end.”

You don’t tell Satan that your head wasn’t level, that you were practically dizzy with fear from the possibility of losing in front of him.

“It comes with practice,” you instead choose to say. “Something we’ve gotta do tonight!”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

You shoot Satan an innocent smile in response.

“Your match lasted a good hour, and I saw you practicing with your team before your bus left.” Satan shakes his head, a frown beginning to spread across his lips. “You’re going to destroy your muscles if you try to do any more. Even you need to rest.”

“Yeah, but resting is boring.” You lean back in your seat and stare at your palms. “Besides, that scrimmage was way too close for comfort. Didn’t you see number eighteen? She was, like, really good. If both our teams make it to the state tournament, we’re going to have a lot of trouble dealing with her unless we practice like crazy until then.”

“Exactly,” Satan says. “Your team needs to practice, not you. The best thing you can do for them is relax and make sure you don’t overexert yourself.”

“But don't you want to reward me for getting a good grade on my Shakespeare test?” A smile curls onto your lips because you know that's something Satan has been thinking about. “Come on, just a few balls? It’ll be quick, I promise. I just want to try a few moves out.”

Satan lets out an exasperated sigh that lets you know he’s agreeing.

“Yes!” You exclaim, resisting the urge to jump out of your seat and hug him because he probably won't be as inclined to help you if you make him crash his car. “Thank you so much, Satan! I won’t be long, I promise!”

The blonde doesn’t say anything to that, sighing softly as he switches his destination from the student parking lot to the on-campus gym you usually conduct your practice sessions in. It takes a while, but when the two of you get there, the spot Satan pulls into is far from the doors. It's a necessity since all the other spots are taken, but it makes you raise an eyebrow because this is the first time you’ve seen this gym even remotely filled up.

You nudge Satan out of his car regardless.

“Alright, so today I want you to make my tosses higher than normal. Number eighteen was taller than me, so I’ll need to increase my jump height if I want to be able to break past her defense.” You pull him to the door, wasting no time to get inside. “And don’t worry if your tosses aren’t perfect! It’ll be good practice for...for when…”

Your train of thought is disrupted when you see how packed the gym is.

“Damn,” Satan mumbles next to you, frowning. 

There must be some kind of athletic event coming up. That's the only explanation you can think of for the picture in front of you. As it stands, there are tons of students inside this gym, everyone practicing their own sport. It’s ridiculous, honestly, because even sports that are traditionally outdoors are practicing inside. You can see Solomon leading his soccer team through a few drills on the far side of the court, taking up one half of one of the six nets set up in the gym.

“They must be here because it’s so muddy outside. All the outdoor sports are practicing inside.” Satan crosses his arms. “Let’s come back tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to get an effective practice in.”

“No!” you immediately exclaim, if only because you see a group of people setting up to leave. “Look, we can take that side of the court. Let’s go! I don’t want someone else to get there first.”

It’s a bit harder to find a spare cart of volleyballs than it was to find a spot to practice, but after checking enough supply rooms, you finally find what you’re looking for. After that, it takes you all of two minutes to wheel the cart over to Satan where you present your findings to him proudly.

“Shouldn’t you stretch first?” He frowns. “I don’t want you to get injured.”

“Come on, Satan. I just came back from a match! My muscles are all loosened up, so let’s get straight into it! The faster we can get this done, the faster we can return to the dorm, so let’s hurry!”

The boy doesn’t look wholly convinced, but he acquiesces to your request nonetheless, throwing you a toss higher than usual as you jump to slam it down.

It’s only once the two of you have returned to your usual rhythm that you begin to feel the stretch in your thighs, and for a moment, you stop to consider the fact that it might have been better if you’d stretched after all, but you ultimately decide that you’ve already started so there’s no point in stopping.

The practice whizzes by, as usual. It's almost pitiful how quickly the end of it nears.

“Three more balls,” Satan says, glancing at the number of balls left in the cart. “Then we go back, alright?”

“Sure thing!” you exclaim with pride, the familiar sense of satisfaction after a practice session well-done setting in.

Satan tosses you the third-last ball, and your feet begin following it as soon as it leaves his fingers. Your feet follow a familiar pattern—left, right, left, jump!—and you force yourself to put in a little bit of extra power to increase the height of your jump, letting your palm collide with the ball just a few inches beneath the peak of the arc to let it slam onto the court at an angle so steep that even a reinforced defense wouldn’t have been able to save it.

“Perfect!” you shout the moment your feet land on the floor. “Two more like that, and we’re set!”

Even Satan can’t hold off a smile at that.

Already in-tune with you, he doesn’t bother asking if you’re ready before throwing the next ball into the air. 

Again, you go through the motions that have been ingrained into your muscle memory since you were eight years old. The sting of pain against your palm is familiar, too familiar, and you’re still high in your jump when the ball spikes down onto the floor.

What isn’t familiar is the immediate calls of concern from across the court.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion.

You turn your head to the source of the noise, the loud group of soccer players who are on the far side of the gym and are all shouting to watch out. You stare at them in confusion for a moment, squinting to look for what they're all pointing at, because right now you don’t see anything to watch out for, and why—

Your eyebrows furrow.

Why are they all looking at you?

That thought is the only warning you get before your feet land—and the first thing you realize is that you landed way too early, that you should have been in the air for longer given the height of your jump. That’s when you realize that you haven’t landed, that your foot is instead twisting on top of a soccer ball that’s rolled directly underneath you.

Your hands go out to catch yourself when you fall, but there’s nothing you can do about the swell of pain that bursts from your ankle when the soccer ball pops out from underneath you.

There’s a moment of trepidation, a single second where your body is completely suspended in the air, and the gym is silent.

In that quiet moment, you hear Satan call out your name in a terrified voice.

Then, the ground collides with you and hard, and there’s nothing you can do as the pain you’d been feeling earlier blossoms out from all parts of your body.

MASTERLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: ive returneddd :D this chapter is dedicated to the vball captain who, in my freshman year of high school, injured herself. her injury was more dramatic, given that it was way more severe and it was during an important match, but irene, i carry you in my heart <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[hale-13]

Hold Fasts

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 11 - Whipping

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

Words: 2220, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Peter Parker, Tony Stark

TW: Whipping, Torture, Kidnapping, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

“Bored already?” The man asked in a light voice, punching Peter across the face again and opening up a cut on his cheek from the sheer force of the hit.

“I have a short attention span,” Peter croaked, blowing another globule of blood out of his nose to drip down onto his already ruined shirt. Masked Goon Number One’s mask crinkled in obvious disgust and Peter smiled at him. He could tell by the coppery taste in his mouth that his remaining teeth were covered in blood – surely making for a gruesome image.

Peter, definitely the unluckiest kid in Queens and maybe all of New York, had been snatched literally right off the street on his way to school the day before. Unfortunately for him as well, his kidnappers clearly had a modicum of common sense because they had not only divested him of all of his tech but they had to have disposed of it somewhere on the way to their cliché super secret base (read: abandoned warehouse – so unoriginal). At least that’s what Peter figured since Tony hadn’t burst in within a few hours of him being missing.

Even more unlucky – they had figured out he had enhanced strength and had compensated with heavy duty cuffs that kept him chained against the concrete wall. So far there had been no mention of his arachnid alter-ego so he had to be thankful for small miracles he supposed.

“If you would just answer the question-,” the man started, an edge of frustration to his voice.

“Not gonna happen.” Peter said firmly, his tone filled with steel in juxtaposition to the light smile on his face.

“Stubborn,” the man in front of him muttered before nailing Peter in the stomach. He grunted but didn’t make another sound, he really didn’t want to give them the satisfaction when he had been doing so well at controlling himself. So far their questions had ranged from wanting information on FRIDAY’s systems to the blueprints for the Arc Reactor. Peter had played dumb for a while until they made it clear that they knew about his connection to Tony and them he just started denying them outright. “Why don’t you think on it for a while. We’ll get back to you later.”

“Won’t change my answer,” Peter snarked back as the man left the room, slamming the door in an odd display of irritation and leaving Peter in darkness. Finally alone, Peter let himself dangle from the chains holding him, his shoulders screaming in protest and his back spasming as it took his weight.

“C’mon Tony,” he thought, letting his eyes slip closed. “Where are you?”

——————————————

“My guys tell me you’ve been pretty uncooperative. And after we provided you with such luxurious lodgings – this is top of the line you know,” a new man said, pushing the heavy steel door open hard enough it hit the wall with a bang and startled Peter awake from his light doze.

“Eh they’re pretty average,” Peter said shrugging and trying to keep the sleepy slur out of his voice – he really didn’t need to sound any younger than he probably looked. “Maybe a four out of ten on Yelp. I could be persuaded to bump it up to a five if you’d take these cuffs off though. A six if you offered a decent room service selection.”

“Tempting,” the man told him. “How about a trade? You tell me how to get past Stark’s firewalls and I’ll let you out of the cuffs?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Come on Marty! How many times do I have to tell you assholes no before it sinks through your thick skulls?”

The man blinks at him in surprise and confusion. “Marty?”

“You look like a Marty,” Peter shrugs. “It’s not like any of you have introduced yourselves. Its pretty poor manners you know.”

“They told me that you were intelligent but you clearly aren’t smart enough to save your own skin,” Marty told him nonchalantly. “Either that or you have no self-preservation instincts.”

“The second one,” Peter agreed with a nod, Mr. Stark had told him the same plenty of times when he was patching him up after patrol.

“Right then. Well we’ll just have to up the ante a little. Get him prepared.” Peter’s eyes narrowed as two of Marty’s henchmen came into the room and wrestled Peter until he faced the wall, arms twisted uncomfortably, and cuffed his ankles to the floor. “Just remember: we can stop at any time, all you need to do is answer the question.” The man turned and left the room, pausing at the door. “Oh and its Nicholas by the way, not Marty.”

“Don’t get your hopes up Nicky!” Peter called after him as he left the room, grunting when he was punched in the stomach.

“God I wish we could gag you,” Henchman One said under his breath as he efficiently slipped his knife into the back of Peter’s shirt and cut it clean down the middle, leaving it hanging open in the back and slipping down his shoulders to pool in the crook of his elbows. Every hair on Peter’s body stood on end as goose bumps rose up on his arms and neck and he let out an involuntary shiver.

“What are you doing?” Peter questioned, renewing his struggles and trying to break the cuffs or pull them out of the wall. Neither man answered him. “Hey shit-stick I’m talking to you!”

“You know? I’m really going to enjoy this,” he heard one of the men mutter before there was the sound of something cutting through the air and then his back lit up in a sharp sting. Peter gasped in a breath as his lungs seized. “Well that shut you up.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Peter croaked as his back lit up on fire again and his knees went weak.

“I’m sure you can figure it out you little brat,” Henchman One said, just barely popping into Peter’s peripheral vision as the whip cut across his back again. “Scream if you want to answer the question and make it stop.”

Peter grit his teeth and tried to hold in the scream that wanted to tear out of his throat when his back was hit the fifth time. By the seventh he could feel blood start to pool at the waistband of his jeans. He nearly bit through his lip on strike number twelve and he lost count after that – he’s unsure when he finally gave in and started to scream.

———————————————

“Come on Pete, focus up buddy,” a warm voice said just on the edge of Peter’s consciousness. “This isn’t a good look kiddo.”

Fingers tapped on his face incessantly and Peter groaned, allowing his head to loll back on his neck in the opposite direction to get away. “G’away,” he mumbled out, unable to speak louder than a whisper without his throat throbbing in agony.

“No can do Bambino,” the voice said, hands running through his hair and maneuvering him to be more upright, his chest leaning against something warm and solid. “But if you open your eyes for me I’d be willing to negotiate getting you out of here. What do you say?”

Peter huffed out a breath of exertion and slit his eyes open. Everything was a little blurry but he could clearly make out the comforting blue glow of the Arc Reactor from where the Iron Man suit stood sentry behind Tony Stark. The man was leaning Peter’s chest against one of his shoulders to keep him upright and was staring down at him with a pinched expression.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, letting his eyes slip closed again and leaning more fully into his mentor’s side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I’d ask if you frequented dumps like this but I’m honestly afraid of the answer,” Tony told him lightly, trying to joke but falling flat. “Think you can stand buddy? I can’t really carry you and I figured you might protest the gurney.”

Peter let out a huff and let his head drop to rest in the crook of his mentor’s neck. “I can walk.”

“Try to lean as much weight as possible on me okay?” Tony told him before beginning the complicated maneuver that they had both nearly perfected so that Tony could get his hands under Peter’s armpits and lift him to his feet. Once standing, Peter’s vision pulsed and went grey around the edges and he fell forward to rest against Tony’s chest as the room spun around him. “Whoa there Pete! You’re alright, just take a few deep breaths okay?”

“Dizzy,” Peter breathed, his vision still fading in and out. “Need to sit…”

“Need to…?” Was all Tony was able to get out before Peter’s vision failed completely and he started sliding back down toward the floor. “Oh shit! Can I get some help in here?! Pete? Peter! Stay with me!”

But Peter didn’t. The darkness was a lot more comfortable than being awake and he was pretty sure Tony would forgive him if he took a little nap. There was a lot of confusion and shouting around him and he was just so tired. With that thought swirling through his head, Peter let himself pass out.

————————————————

Even without opening his eyes, Peter could recognize the plush feeling of the MedBay bed and the sharp smell of betadine and chlorhexidine and industrial cleaner in the air. It tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze but he manfully held it in, burying his face a little more firmly into the plump pillow. He was resting on his front instead of his back like normal and he could tell by the slowness of his thoughts and the heaviness of his muscles that he was on his super strength painkillers and probably some sort of sedation as well.

His thoughts were murky and hard to get through with the pain relief on board so he didn’t try to think too hard for now and, instead, blinked his eyes open slowly. The room was dim like it was late in the evening even though warm light filtered in through the barely cracked blinds. There were two chairs beside his bed – the closest one held May’s purse and scrub jacket and the second had his mentor.

Tony was leaned over his tablet, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair and eyes half lidded as he read through something on the screen. He looked tired but, Peter supposed, he always looked that way when Peter ended up in the MedBay. “Mr. Stark,” he muttered out, blinking his eyes and barely managing to get them back open through his exhaustion.

Tony jumped and launched his tablet to the floor but was quick to recover and stand up so he could lean over Peter and run a cautious hand through his hair. “Hey Bambino,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter answered, letting his eyes close again. “High.”

“Yeah I’ll bet,” Tony agreed with him, a touch of amusement in his voice. “You should go back to sleep, you’ve got a lot of healing to do. You want anything before your nap?”

“What happened?” Peter asked, slitting his eyes open to look up at Tony’s worried face.

“When I asked if you wanted something I was thinking water or ice chips,” Tony told him pointedly but Peter didn’t let up on his relentless, woozy eye contact until Tony sighed and settled into May’s chair so he could hold Peter’s hand and continue to massage through his hair with the other. “You were kidnapped for information on me.”

“I didn’t give up anything right?” Peter asked, worried. He could vaguely remember some hazy memories but nothing was really clear through his tiredness and the drugs coursing through his system.

“Not one bit,” Tony confirmed, pride and concern warring on his face. “We’ll have a much more in depth discussion about that later and how you should always save your own skin over a couple passwords,” he promised, “but, for now, all you need to know is they messed up your back pretty good. Cho and Bruce estimate a full recovery with no scaring but you’ll be out for a bit while you recover.”

Peter searched his grey-tinged and sluggish memories before letting out a little hum of understanding. “They whipped me.”

“Yeah kiddo,” Tony confirmed. “They did. But you’re going to be just fine. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me,” Peter agreed, letting his eyes slip shut again. “Gonna nap now,” he said groggily, “night.”

“Night buddy,” Tony whispered and Peter fell asleep to the feeling of warm fingers carding through his hair and a calloused hand holding his.

[rue-king]

Black Bird

(AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33056038)

Summary: Damian Wayne has a bad day and he has no one to comfort him but a little black bird.

Warnings: mild cursing, and slight descriptions of violence, mentions of Damian's trauma

It stinks in Gotham. No one has ever tried to say otherwise. It stinks, it's cold, and it's dangerous.

The air bites and snaps against warm skin. It swooshes through the light poofs of hair that rises from little Damian Wayne’s head.

He’s doing what Wayne’s do best- brooding.

He’s having one of those days. The type where he can’t keep his temper. The type where he snaps at his father and his brothers. The type where he feels just so angry and doesn’t know why.

He’s not even a whole teen, a real teen. He’s a kid who feels emotions way too large for his little body.

He can take a man apart no problem, but god forbid he try to properly express his feelings. You won’t ever hear him say a bad thing about the league of assassins, but they ruined him. They destroyed him before he even had a chance to develop into a whole person.

There’s nights where every time he closes his eyes all he sees is endless waves of warriors  and teachers beating him down. Each one striking with more and more vigor, burying him under the weight of their blood lust.

Last night was especially terrible. After patrolling with his father Damian retired to his room to get some sleep. It started off okay. He laid in his king sized bed and sank into its sheets.

His peaceful dreams warped into the burning green goo that is the lazarus pit. There he watched his grandfather and mother burn. They died by his hand and he couldn’t stop himself. He watched himself twist his own katanas into their hearts over and over and over again.

He could hear a scream reverberate around him. It wasn’t until he stabbed Talia for the 232nd time before he realized it was him screaming.

He killed his own family until the liquid of the pit stained red. And could no longer bring them back. He turned away from the pit, finally his screams faded away. Finally he is given his relief.

His brain hates him, he swears it. He found no relief, no peace. Only more pain and anguish. He dropped his sword, staring at his bloodied hands. Echoes of footsteps reach his ears.

Oh he knows this cadence, the stable stepping of his father. The heavy gait of the great, the grand, the hero Batman. Dread. Heavy, unforgiving dread fills him. He’s worked so hard to change. He doesn’t kill anymore. He doesn’t. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t stop it.

Oh god. He didn’t mean to.

Frantically he looks up, begging to be wrong for once in his life.

Please, please don’t be him.

It’s too late. Bruce Wayne’s eyes pour into Damian’s.

Anger. Disappointment. Disgust. Rage.

A pain fills his chest before he can register the wetness of his eyes. His shaking hands reach to comfort the burning in his center.

His katana protrudes from the place where his heart sits and the hand on the hilt is his fathers.

He’s crying ugly, angry tears.

Damian coughed, a dribble of blood pours out of his mouth.

“Father, I’m so sor-“

His vision goes black and he wakes up covered in a cold sweat. Gasping for breath.

Oh god. He can’t breathe. He's gasping and clutching his chest as if the katana was still there.

It’s not, obviously, but his heart is racing as if it is.  He couldn’t go back to sleep. Everytime his eyes drooped closed he could hear the echo of his screams in his ears. Everytime the manor settles and groans his heart jumps as if he can still hear his father’s cadence.

He can’t stand the way the down feather pillows drown his head or how his soft silk sheets stick against his sweating, trembling body. He abandoned his bed all together. He retreats to his on-suite bathroom and fills the lifted tub with a single pillow and the least soft sheet he owns.

Here he is protected on all sides. The cage of ceramic and space between him and the main door makes him feel slightly more at ease.

It doesn’t do much though, because that morning he is snappy and irritable. He jumps at every noise and lashes out at a moment’s notice. He cursed at Alfred for asking him if he slept well. He called Tim “the charity case that no one asked for.”

He didn’t even bother with his father. He couldn’t look him in the eye. He felt that if he did he would see the eyes of the man that stabbed him in the heart last night. Besides it’s not like his father can bear to initiate conversation with him anyway.

This mix of fear and frustration built up into a big ball of anger throughout the day. Normally he would just lash out and burn all that energy with his anger, but today he couldn’t summon the energy. Instead he’s opted for being broody.

He yearns for peace, for what it may feel like. He needs space to sort out what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. He needs to process and breathe on his own because he doesn’t know how to ask for help or seek others.

So he’s sitting on the ledge of a medium-sized building in the middle of gotham. It's an office building that sits at the perfect height to not be seen from below but has the protection of taller buildings around it.  The air is cool and sharp against the skin of his cheeks. A harsh yellow and white light crawls up the sides of the buildings and flashes against the cars and neons signs below.

He lets his legs dangle and his hair become undone with the wind. Breathing in and out hard with thought out concentration. His hands wander to the folds of his uniform and he pinches the fabric absent mindedly.

He shuts his eyes for a second, to ground himself, but before he can see a katana out of his chest he feels a sharp pain come from his hand.

He snatches his hand away from where it sat in his lap. He looks down to see a smaller than average crow looking at him.

“You pecked me, you little bastard. Shoo!”

The crow continues to stare undisturbed by Damian’s mean words.

He takes a tiny hop closer, just reaching the cape that drapes over Dami’s shoulders. Damian leans away instinctively, his lips beginning to form more harsh words.

The little crow beats him to it and chirps. The little thing leans forward and pokes Damian’s thigh with his round beak. Not enough to hurt.

“What do you want, pest”

The crow looks Dami in the eyes with a look that suggests an odd amount of intelligence. Freaky.

The crow sticks out a leg, like he was reaching out for Damian. The bird does it with such determination that he is nearly tipping over.

Damian is thoroughly confused, there’s no reason for this bird to be behaving this way.

The bird flaps his wings in obvious frustration.

Then Damian sees it. His wing is crooked, bent in an unnatural angle. He spots a bit of fresh blood on the dark black feathers now too.

“Well what do you expect me to do about that”

The crow croaks loudly in indignation. They enter a sort of staring contest.

Damian's intentions for the night was to brood and be left alone with no distractions. This bird is ruining his plans.

That little crow is determined. It shouldn’t be possible for a bird to give him puppy eyes.

“Alright I’ll assist you, you bastard”

The crow chirps again, throwing himself deeper into Damian’s lap.

Oh how Damian is weak for animals. He strokes the little guy's head. His anger dissipates as his thoughts are replaced with the little bastard's treatment plan. I mean you can’t think about your tortuous nightmares and absent father when you have much greater things to worry about.

Damian ends up using his emergency bandages to secure the injured wing and create a sort of pouch to hold him in. He doesn’t even realize his breathing evened out ages ago.

He feeds the little man bits of bread from the sandwich Alfred smuggled into his super cool and tough Robin pack. (Definitely NOT a glorified lunchbox). He doesn’t even know that his hands aren’t trembling anymore.

He thinks of names for the crow on his way home. No longer feeling dread at the reminder of another night to sleep through.

Maybe he can name him bat crow. Or maybe he needs to invest in an imagination. Well whatever the case, for the moment he is settling with an affectionate bastard for the little man's name.

He always did think that he got along with animals better than people anyway.

[phoenixfox56]

The Beaumont Family Secret

Rating - Mature

Summary - Riley and Savannah discover a common theme in house Beaumont.

Pairing - Maxwell x MC, Bertrand x Savannah

Word Count - 1,374

Note - Sorry, not sorry. I had fun with this one.

Riley and Savannah sat by a wall at one end of the kitchen. Pulling over a couple of chairs once the Beaumont brothers started to disagree and bicker about what to have for dinner. Savannah sat with Bartie cradled in her arms fast asleep as she slowly rocked and bounced. Riley pulled Chance onto her lap when he came over to whine at her feet. She scratched his head between his ears and rubbed down his back. Continuing to pet him as he stilled on her lap.

 Riley looked over to Savannah, looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, then over to Bertrand who was standing on one side of an island. Bertrand’s arm was across his chest holding up his other that currently has been pinching the bridge of his nose as he becomes more frustrated with his younger brother. Maxwell stood opposite the island, hands flat on the counter surface as he leaned his weight on it, trying to convince his big brother that more is always better.

 Riley returned her gaze back to her sister-in-law. “Can I ask you something?”

 Savannah swung her head to face her not daring to stop her rocking motion. “Of course.”

 Riley took a moment before continuing. “What attracts you to Bertrand?”

Savannah’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised by the question. Before she can answer Riley quickly continues.

 “I’ve just been kinda curious. I mean he IS quite a bit older than you. Plus, he can be pretty stuffy and really emotionally closed off. I know sometimes he isn’t but MOST of the time, yeah.” Riley rushed the words out in a strange panicky way. Savannah’s surprise turned to amusement as Riley word vomited at her.

 “Well, let me think. Given his upbringing he can be quite polite, charming even. It was difficult not to swoon a little when he spoke, especially when he made speeches. He can be exceptionally smooth with his words. Mix that with his dashing good looks. His posture is so confident. Plus, I mean, sexy eyebrows.” She winks. “And now he is such a wonderful father. It just ties it together.”

 “Actually, what ties it together has to be what you left out.” Riley adds.

 “What do you mean?” She stares confusingly back.

 “Just, you know … “Riley leans over and whispers her next question. “What’s he like in bed?”

 “Oh!” Savannah’s cheeks redden. She takes a moment to compose herself. “I didn’t know you were THAT curious, Riley.” She says playfully.

 “Come on now, it’s just a bit of fun. There HAS to be a good reason someone as wonderful as you are, is with mister grumpy over there. What really piqued my interest was the fact you slept with him once, only once! And fell in love with him. Even after everything stupid he did! You still couldn’t resist. Now spill the beans missy. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

 “Okay, okay, I give.” She went quiet for a few moments as she gathered her thoughts on how to say it. With a deep breath she continued. “So … well, Bertrand is rather on the large side.” She said slowly and carefully.

 Riley’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “No! Seriously? Like which way?”

 “Um, I think the length is pretty average like seventeen or so centimeters. But his width! I don’t think I have a measurement for that one but …”

 “But he’s girthy?” Riley finishes for her.

 “Yes! It was rather shocking.”

 “Okay, listen. I have to tell you something.” Riley glanced back over the brothers making sure they were still in their own bubble across the kitchen. Riley leaned closer to Savannah to stay quiet. “Maxwell is the same way.”

 Savannah’s face dropped as Riley’s did moments ago. “No!”

 “Yes! It was a pleasant surprise.” Riley nodded her head and covered her mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to break free.

 “Oh my god! That’s crazy!” Savannah was trying her best to keep her voice down but was having a difficult time.

 “Do you think it is a family trait?” Riley considered out loud. Savannah shrugged. “I mean, I know Barthelemy is an asshole, but it had to come from somewhere.” Riley continued.

 “Now that is something I don’t want to know.” Grossed out by the thought of her horrible, denounced father-in-law.

 “I get that, but I’m still curious.”

 “Even so who would even be able to tell you? Not like their mother is around.”

 “No. But I believe there is one person I can probably get to tell me. She is a major gossip and closer to the older generation.” Riley was determined at this point. She was going to find out and she knew who to call. She grabbed Savannah’s arm. “Come with me.”

 “Okay, hold on.” She stood up and walked over to the eldest Beaumont handing the sleeping form over into his arms. “Take him a moment, please. We will be right back.”

 Without waiting for him to answer she turned on her heel and swiftly made her way to the door leading out of the kitchen. Riley stood as Savannah moved to leave the room setting the little corgi back on the floor, who wiggled his way over to Maxwell. They quickly moved out of the kitchen and down the hall, finding a small quiet sitting area. Closing the door behind them they both drop down onto the plush couch. Riley pulled her phone out and quickly found the number she was after. Hitting the call button, she put it on speaker and waited. It rang five too many times before they heard the woman on the other end.

 “Adelaide speaking.”

 “Adelaide, this is Duchess Riley I’m here with Duchess Savannah. I apologize for bothering you, but I have a morbid curiosity on a subject matter and am hoping you can shed some light on the matter?” Riley was confident that Adelaide knew the answer and decided not to beat around the bush.

 “Well, I am certainly curious. Please go ahead.”

 “I need to confirm a suspicion I have over something deeply personal involving Barthelemy Beaumont. Would you be able to help?”

 “Give me a moment.” It went quiet but they could just make out Adelaide telling someone to leave. Presumably some staff so she can be alone. “Alright girls, make it quick.”

 “I just need you to confirm if below the belt, Barthelemy was an average length but quite girthy?” She spoke cautiously.

 It was silent for a few more moments before they heard a puff of air. “It has been quite some time. But I will admit, it is difficult to forget that. Your description is accurate. Is that all you need from me?” She seemed eager to leave the conversation.

 “Yes, it is. Thank you for your help. Have a wonderful night.”

 “You as well dear.” With that they hung up. Riley hopped up swinging her legs under her body before landing back onto the couch facing Savannah.

 “I knew it! It IS a family trait! Oh my God, Savannah! We know the family secret that THEY don’t even know!” Riley’s hands covered her mouth, stifling her laughter once again.

 “Yes, but I will definitely go to my grave not telling anyone I know anything like that about Barthelemy.” Savannah shivered in mock horror.

 “So true. I’m totally with you there. We’ll tell no one, anything. It will be our secret cause we are Beaumont’s now, so it counts.” Riley giggled. She stood up and stretched. “Hey, you want pizza?” She held out her hands to Savannah.

 “Oh God Yes!” She moaned accepting the helping hands that lifted her to her feet.

 They walked back down the hall, arms linked, giggling the whole way back to the kitchen where they found Maxwell laying on his back on the counter. Legs dangling over the edge, arms sprawled above his head, and Bartie sitting on his chest awake and alert. While, Bertrand clearly exasperated, arms circled around his head that is resting on the edge of the counter. His body bent over in defeat. The girls stood in the doorway, they looked at each other and smirked, ready to clear the whole situation up and move on with the night.

[saxxxology]

a king’s duty

Sam likes a big family, and he’ll make sure it only keeps growing.

PAIRING: King!Alpha!Sam x Queen!Omega!Reader

WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, smut

NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent. 

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Sam takes his kingly duties seriously. He’s ruled over his kingdom for well over a decade, ever since his father and predecessor gifted he and his brother their own sections of land. Nothing in life could be better; his citizens are happy and prospering, his servants are preparing a festival and banquet for the Easter holiday, and Sam himself is planning to ensure that the holiday bears an announcement to celebrate the day’s purpose.

You and Sam have made a decent family already, six pups over the last nine years of your marriage, but he wants more. A large family means more heirs to carry both his lineage and the throne, and you’re more than happy to give him all the children he wants.

He’s been gone on a hunt with the kingsguard for several days, tracking a herd of deer through the dense forests. When you hear the bellowing of the horns and the commotion coming from the town below, you race to your bedroom window and peer down into the streets. Sam’s on his towering steed, shaggy-haired and dirty from his travels. It’s late in the afternoon, and you know that he’ll be starving for a properly cooked meal. 

Sam loves it when you prepare his suppers. Within weeks of becoming his bride you’d arranged for your own private kitchens to keep regularly stocked with the finest meats and vegetables. Even though Sam is a well-liked king, there are still those from faraway kingdoms who despise his rule and the risk of accidentally eating a poisoned meal, albeit slim, is too much for you to gamble with. Your children also only eat from your kitchens, after an incident with rancid chicken and a weekend spent cleaning sick bowls and tending fevers and chills placed the wellbeing of your offspring in your hands alone. 

“Mother, mother!” Elizabeth, your firstborn, clutches your skirts, tugging frantically. She’s got her father’s coppery hair and hazel eyes, as do all your children—the only one to have your hair color is Anne, your one-year-old daughter. “Father’s home!”

“I know.” You set a cutting board on the counter and crouch to pull her into your arms. “Go fetch your siblings and greet your father. I’ll have supper ready soon.”

Giggling, Elizabeth races from the room, shouting for her brothers and sisters in the hallway. She’s a rowdy seven-year-old, much louder and more boisterous than the others, and you’ve noticed that her behavior is starting to rub off on your other growing children. Jonathan, at five and a half, is nearing her height and the two often have to be pulled apart during tussels in the hallways over dolls and other toys they’ve found. Katherine and Alexander, your only pair of twins, are more subdued, preferring to draw with bits of charcoal on the stone floors. Mariah is the youngest of the group, and she’s still discovering where she fits in, much less how to talk properly without getting frustrated. Anne is nearing one, and still sleeps heavily in her bassinet between feeds and cuddles from her parents. 

A decent pack with almost too many mouths to feed. 

Sam enters the kitchens just when you’ve dropped meat in an iron skillet. He’s got Mariah in his arms, Jonathan on his shoulders, and the other four trailing close behind, bouncing on their feet. His beard has grown thick, and you welcome his kiss with a slight grimace as the stubble grazes your skin. He looks tired, and you sigh happily at his warm, musky (if slightly smelly) scent.

“I missed you,” he hums, setting the children down and kneeling to welcome them all into his arms. “And how are my beautiful pups?”

“Your children have been quite the handful since you’ve been gone,” you reply, giving Elizabeth and Jonathan stern looks. “These two got into quite the tussle in the gardens yesterday.”

“Over what?” Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Snail shells,” Jonathan pipes up, “we were collecting them and Elizabeth stole mine!”

“I did not!” Elizabeth interjects. “I’m just better at collecting them so I got more.”

“Enough,” you tap your wooden spatula on the side of your skillet, “no more fighting while your father’s home, run along and wash up for supper.” You watch your children scamper off, shaking your head. “Those two… always a competition.”

Sam chuckles and presses another firm kiss to your cheek. “They get it from me.”

“Oh, I know they do,” you chuckle, wrinkling your nose. “Sam, you know I love you, but you do smell… please go and have a quick bath. There’s even some lavender soap for you.”

He sighs happily. “Of course, my love. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Your children come running back after you’ve finished preparing their dinner. As usual, you examine their little pink fingers for dirt (you have to send Alexander to the washbasin in the corner for a second cleaning) and allow them to take their places at the table. They squabble briefly for chunks of bread before quieting down, and you wonder with a shake of your head why you want so badly to add yet another child to your ever-growing pack.

When Sam returns, the food is lined on the table, and he serves himself before allowing the children to dig into their own plates. Anna’s woken from her nap, and you seek a brief respite from the chatter to feed her in the quiet of her nursery. She feeds heavily, suckling at your breast with enthusiasm as your sweet milk fills her little belly. Your milk production is slowing, a sign that you’re almost ready to receive another pup in your womb. 

The children are just finishing their supper when you return, and you allow each child a small square of chocolate from the market for their dessert before sending them off to their rooms to prepare for bed. Sam waits at the table as you spoon a helping of potatoes, meat, and drop a slice of bread onto a plate and meet him at the table. 

“How are you, my love?” he asks, gazing fondly at you. 

“I’m well,” you reply, “tired, but well.”

He squeezes your hand, giving a supportive smile. It’s often that you need reassurance that you’re a good mother, and Sam never fails to give you the encouragement you need. “You’ve done wonderfully in my absence, as always. Our pups are growing strong.”

You accept his praise with a flush of heat. “I can only do my best. Elizabeth is growing more outspoken by the day.”

“And your best is more than perfect.” Sam lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers. “Elizabeth is the eldest, and first in line. She’ll need to be outspoken when she takes the throne.”

You finish eating quickly and pile your dishes at the end of the table for the servants to clean. Sam helps you prepare warm milk and honey in small wooden cups and escorts you upstairs, to where your children are already tucked into their separate beds. After a drink, tuck in, and generous kisses from both you and Sam, they’re left to fall asleep. A quick check on Anna in her nursery proves that your babe is slumbering peacefully, and Sam pulls you into a deep, warm kiss over her bassinet.

Another day, another victory. 

In the safety of your private chambers, Sam helps you undress, pulling the ribbon from your bodice and lifting your dress up over your head and leaving you naked. His rumbling growl of arousal echoes in your ears as his hands skim over your sides, trailing around to cover the flat expanse of your belly. 

“I miss you being round,” he murmurs, “all big and swollen with our child…”

“I know you do.” You turn around stretching up on your toes to press your lips to his. His growing erection presses against your hip through his trousers, and he allows you to undress him slowly, teasing with soft skims of your fingers and warm kisses on his lips.

He lifts you onto the bed, kneeling forward until you can lie down with your head on one of the soft pillows. He kisses you hard, wedging his hips between your thighs. His weight is welcome on top of you, all warm and firm against your soft, pliant body. You’re already wet, and he uses that to his advantage.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “for days now… filling you up, giving you another pup….”

He groans when you reach between your legs and grip him firmly, guiding him to your entrance. He takes the lead when he feels himself slip into the soft crevice of your folds, and you stifle a gasp against his shoulder when he surges in in a quick, gratifying thrust. You’re tight, clenching wet and hot around his shaft like the night he’d taken you as his bride. 

“Let me relax,” you urge him, a palm against his shoulder as you fight the discomfort. It’s easier to take him during your heats; for an Alpha, he’s incredibly well-endowed, and you’re a smaller than average Omega. 

You’d made a joke after you’d mated for the first time that if his lordship came down to purely the size of his manhood he could rule the world. 

Sam peppers your cheeks with gentle kisses and gently rocks his pelvis, urging your body to grow accustomed to his penetration. When you settle underneath him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs, he seals his lips over yours and gives a steady thrust. You clutch his arms, sighing through your nose at the hot, thick slide. He presses deeper, rocking his hips from side to side, and increases the intensity of his movements, making love firmly and passionately. Just the way you like. 

“Oh, God…” you tip your head back, baring your throat for him, and Sam latches on, grinding his hips heavily against yours as his teeth scrape over your sensitive skin and the faint traces of your claim mark at the base of your throat. He growls when you dig your nails into his ass, and he braces his palms on the mattress as he ruts heavily into you.

Sam watches your face contort in the candlelight, brows arching as your mouth stretches into a wide smile. He’s found your sweet spot, and he focuses his thrusts there, grunting and panting like an animal. 

“That’s my Omega,” he praises, kissing you deep and wet. “Oh, that’s it… I can feel you, honey love…”

He curls one hand into your hair, thrusting a little harder and faster as you begin to peak. Your body flushes hot, sweat making your skin slippery. You wrap your arms around his back, nails digging into his skin, and Sam swallows your cry of pleasure as you shudder and writhe underneath him with the force of your climax. Your thighs squeeze his waist, and he groans loudly, his knot beginning to swell. 

He shoves the girth of it into your cunt with a vicious thrust that has you squealing. Bursts of his seed fill your womb, warming your lower belly as his teeth scrape over your shoulder. He goes lax with a heavy sigh, shifting so that your knees ride higher on his ribcage.

“My beautiful Omega,” he whispers softly, trailing a thumb over your lips. “I love you so much.”

Your reply is stifled by a kiss that has you squirming underneath his weight. He rests his forehead on yours, steadying his breath with a long, slow sigh. “We’re going to have another pup,” you whisper.

“I know we are.” Sam growls possessively and carefully rolls you onto your side, keeping your hips level with his. “I’ll fill you with pups as long as you’ll have them.”

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[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.88

Keith was blushing, Lance couldn’t even look at the sign in the window. Together they were standing in front of an adult toy store both feeling out of their depth. It was a moment they needed Curtis. Really, at their age, this shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it was. They could have opted for online shopping with Platt being relatively quick, but without an address to post to, they’d have had to go to the store collect as it was. Holding Keith’s hand, his boyfriend squeezed it firmly

“We don’t have to go in there... I still have the things Lotor used when Shiro and I had to play pets”

Lance shook his head, kind of jealous that Lotor had portrayed Keith as his pet, and very much annoyed that Keith hadn’t had much choice in the matter

“Lotor is a dick. I want whatever we pick out to be comfortable for you, and something that you’re okay with”

“I’m okay with it if it’s with you”

“I know he said I needed someone with me, but if you’re not comfortable, then I don’t want to force you”

“Babe, it’s okay...”

They fell back into silence staring at the door, Lance giving a frustrated groan

“Why is this so hard?”

“Because neither of us have much experience?”

“But they’re just toys... adult toys... God, I feel like such a wuss”

“I’m nervous too... let’s just do this?”

Lance liked the sex they had... He liked it because he felt physically connected with Keith. Keith always took care of him, sometimes a little eager but meaning well

“Yeah... maybe it won’t be so bad?”

Heading into the store, Lance didn’t know where to look. Lingerie clad mannequins made him blush. Did Keith like lingerie? Would Keith like him in lingerie? He was guy... but some of the stuff wasn’t so bad... or as bad as he thought

“Have you thought about what you’re going to wear?”

Lance jumped as if he’d been sprung

“Not really. I don’t know how not to look like me”

“I like the way you look... Babe, you can tell me so shut up, but does your scent really smell that different from a normal vampire?”

Lance nodded. He wasn’t offended by Keith asking. His boyfriend just wanted to understand

“Yeah. I mean, they’ll be able to tell I’m not your average vampire. I guess it’s kind of like maybe going from smelling garlic bread to open the bag and finding apple scrolls. Some might even react... That’s why they want me to choose what I wear carefully. Maybe I should get a wig?”

Walking past a second mannequin, Keith drew his brow. Fingers brushing over the red lace of the bra. Red was Keith’s colour. His boyfriend looked good in red... He couldn’t picture Keith in lingerie

“You could dress like a girl? Is that a thing? I don’t know how vampire society works here... but if they think you’re a girl, they won’t be looking for you when you’re a guy again”

Lance frowned

“I won’t look stupid?”

Keith awkwardly scratched the back of his head. They were as bad as each other...

“Nah... I mean, it was an idea. I don’t know... I don’t know what’s okay”

And Lance did? He hated the vampire community as a general rule

“I don’t know either. I mean, I’m on the outside... Maybe we can choose your clothes and work what I’m wearing to match you?”

Keith grumbled bitterly

“I fucking hate clothes shopping”

“I know, babe. That’s why I want you to find something you like as a well as something suitable. I know that you need to have a collar so I want to find one that’s padded so it doesn’t hurt your neck”

“Lotor had a leather one”

Lance felt a flash of ego. A nasty unwanted bubble of jealousy that Lotor had “owned” Keith for a night. Jamming his hands in his pockets, Lance started walking down the first isle, realising his mistake when he eyed the biggest plastic dick he’d ever seen in his life. Jerking back, he was kind of curious and clenching tightly at the same time. How anyone fitted that up anywhere was a mystery

“Babe?”

“I can’t take my eyes off it”

Pouting out the dong in question, Keith asked the same thing he’d been thinking

“How does that even work?”

With a lot of lube and a lot praying?

“I don’t know... Look how veiny it is”

“The testicles are weird”

“I’m glad Curtis didn’t bring home something like that”

“Do you want something like that?”

Lance spluttered, choking on air

“What?!”

Keith blushed beat red, crossing his arms defensively

“For your heat. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this stuff!”

“I... you... do you want me to buy something like this?”

He thought their sex life was fine?

“I mean for when I’m not there and you need to... you know...”

“Do... I... should I?”

They weren’t made for this. Defeated by a row of rubber dongs

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to be in pain if I can’t be with you”

Lance wasn’t sure he knew what to do if he was left alone to do that

“I... would it be weird?”

Keith shifted his weight

“Lots of people use them... I don’t know”

“I don’t know either...”

“Do you... want to get something? We don’t have to use it if you don’t want... but... Why is this so embarrassing?”

“Because we’re new to this sex thing?”

“Yeah... maybe...”

Keith seemed deflated. He felt the same as boyfriend. He didn’t know if they were ready for that... He knew he didn’t want to use what Curtis bought him...

“Keith, do you want to try something like this?”

“I don’t know... you’re really hot when you’re into it”

“I’m into it when I’m with you, because it’s with you. We could um... start with something simple?”

“Like what?”

How was he supposed to know? Keith had probably watched more porn than Lance had...

“I don’t know... if there’s anything you want to try, I’m nervous, but we can figure it out together?”

“Where do we start?”

Lance looked around, feeling intimidated

“Lingerie? Do you like lingerie?”

“I never really thought about it...”

“I haven’t either... I don’t know what to find sexy... other than you... and I like you how you are”

Keith snorted, dropping his forehead against Lance’s shoulder

“We’re so fucking bad at this. Maybe we should wait? But I need condoms and lube for home”

Yeah. Most of their stuff was at Lance’s

“Mmm. That’s probably an idea... and if I’m dressing up as a girl, we need to figure out how that’s going to work”

Lance wasn’t committed to dressing as girl... He could... but kind of felt like he’d look stupid... though looking stupid was worth it if it meant protecting his friends... maybe his ego was being prissy?

“We should ask Allura what she thinks...”

“For now let’s find the collars... and see what we see on the way”

Condoms defeated Lance as much as the dongs had. Cock rings made him blush, though he knew Keith had two that he’d had his eye on. Vibrators had Keith curious, Lance suspecting one of them ended up in Keith’s basket. Butt plugs were unnecessarily fancy with their shining silverness and big fake gems... yet again he had the feeling Keith had decided to get one... He was sure why though. Garrison usually had three different brands to choose from. He was happy with having only a few choices because they certainly didn’t have anything of this “ribbing”, “ultra naked”, “glow in the dark”, or “flavoured” business. They went on, did their job, and that was it. Now there was a whole walls worth of condom packaging and a wayward Keith who was supposed to be choosing lube. He wasn’t sure how to size Keith’s dick. Saying it was the perfect size for filling him didn’t exactly give an accurate description. Keith wasn’t small, but he wasn’t like super sized. He was good size. 6-7 inches and thicker than Lance’s. Casting a glance at his boyfriend Keith now had a basket, Lance not sure if he should worry for his arse or not. They’d found the collars, Lance choosing a red and black one with soft red padding on the inside that Keith felt comfortable with. The muzzle was a different task all together. There were all kinds of gags and fetish masks, finally they settled on a PVC mask that covered Keith’s mouth and came up in a Y around Keith’s nose. It strapped over Keith’s head, but was way better than something that might hurt his boyfriend to wear. Plus it had silver press studs and silver buckles so it could be adjusted. Keith wouldn’t drink anything while they were out, just to be on the safe side of things. The lead was a simple chain lead with a black leather handle. Probably below the vampires they’d come across, but he didn’t care.

Watching Keith grab a couple of different lubes, Lance felt his dick twitch, not that he was in the mood, he was now stuck wishing he knew what Keith had in mind for him, yet was kind of excited he didn’t know. Putting them in the basket, his boyfriend glanced around to make sure no one watching. No one was. The woman behind the counter was on her phone, not caring one bit about them. Wandering over to him, Keith had put the lube over the things at the bottom at the basket, Lance trying not to look lest his dick decide to pop up like a pervert

“Did you pick anything out?”

“This isn’t like Garrison, there’s too many choices”

“Do we need fancy? I mean... if you want to try something else, I don’t mind”

“I... maybe? What do you think about ribbed?”

“I think we can try it and see how you feel? If you don’t like it you can use them so we don’t make a mess?”

That was very practical way of thinking about things. Keith wasn’t comfortable with bottoming. Lance would never push in his right state of mind

“Okay. So ribbed and normal?”

Keith grabbed a box of ribbed and two boxes of normal. Lance blushed from the top of his ears to the bottom of his feet, hardly acting cool and mature despite his 44 years

“I think we’ve got everything now. They’ve got coloured contacts here too... I should probably grab a set”

Lance didn’t like it, though Keith’s eyes were a very unique shade of purple. Keith titling his head as he read the expression on the vampire’s face

“What?”

“I just hate the idea of having to hide your eyes...”

“They stand out”

“They’re beautiful. I suppose you’re right, but I hate how un-you you have to be”

“Shiro and I have done contacts before. A couple of times we dressed him up and pretended he was the vampire”

“He doesn’t smell like one. How did that work?”

“We’re still here? Sometimes I think about the things we’ve done and I’m amazed we pulled them off”

That was right. Keith wasn’t a beginner in this business like Lance was. He’d led a completely different life

“I’ll follow your lead. Do you think I should change my eye colour too?”

He still needed a wig

“They’re really blue... maybe brown? I think they’ve got party lenses too”

“Yeah. We can take a look... is it bad that I’m relieved we found the shop the furthered away from where we live?”

“Not really... I’m kind of glad we don’t have to come back”

“Is that why you’ve got so much?”

“I didn’t think you’d want things sent to the house with Matt and Rieva there”

“That’s true. Did you see the werewolf vibes? I thought about getting one for Matt and throwing it at him next time he offers to help with my heat”

“Matt’s so fucking horny, he probably be into it”

“Rieva probably already owns a strap on to deal with him when he’s being moody”

Sharing an uncomfortable look, they both mutually decided silently not to go there, Keith asking

“Ready to go?”

Lance quick to agree

“Yep. I’ll pay. They can reimburse for the clothes... I don’t want the Blades knowing what we get up to”

Keith shook his head, looking at the full basket

“I’ll pay for this. I got carried away”

“I’ve got this. Consider it me apologising ahead of time for treating you like a pet”

And seeing most it would be used on him, he really should be the one paying

“You’re not treating me like a pet because you want to”

“That doesn’t make it okay”

“It’s for the mission”

It was because Lotor was a dick. Turning, Lance tried not to stare at the pocket pussy display. He was sure he didn’t want to fall down that rabbit hole... and why was that flesh light green, was that a thing? He was such a mental prude over all of this

“Let’s get out of here. Any more and I think I might die”

“All the more reason I should pay. I’ll meet you at the car”

They were supposed to look at the coloured contact lenses... Keith seemed to have forgotten in his hurry to hide his purchases

“I feel like you don’t want me to see what you got”

Keith was cute when he got flustered. The way his cheeks dusted red. The way he pouted, but only at the corner of his lips. The way he tried to stand a little taller as if pretending he wasn’t. Lance couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him on the cheek, Keith blushing harder at the display of affection. So cute...

“Okay. I’ll wait in the car, but don’t forget to get the contact lenses”

Keith opened and closed his mouth, Lance nudging him with his shoulder teasing his boyfriend a little more

“Don’t take too long... or I might be afraid you’ve had a better offer”

Something broke in Keith, his boyfriend very stiff as he moved towards the counter without replying. Lance suppressing a laugh. He had the most awkward boyfriend, and he really loved that about him.

*

Wiped out from their “adult store adventure”, Lance decided Keith needed a break from peopling. Ordering pizza online, his boyfriend had no idea what was happening as Lance parked in front of the pizza place. Heading in, he collected their order, with extra for Shiro and Curtis, plus extra again so they’d be able to have left overs the following day. Carrying out 8 pizzas, three garlic breads and two bottles of coke, Keith’s eyes went wide as Lance carried the lot over to the passenger side door

“Open up”

Opening the door, Lance dumped the pile into Keith’s lap

“What the hell? I thought we were going clothes shopping”

Keith made it hard to be spontaneous

“Just shut up and hold the pizza”

“What?”

Closing the passenger door, Lance jogged around to the driver’s side, happily climbing in and closing the door after

“Lance, why am I holding this much pizza?”

“Because I changed my mind. Clothes can wait, right now I want to go home and cuddle up with you”

Keith stared at him as if he’d grown a second head

“But we were supposed to go clothes shopping”

“And you don’t like shopping”

“We can’t blow off getting ready for the mission for pizza”

“One. Don’t insult pizza like that. Two. You’re worn out. I’m worn out. Those dongs are haunting me”

“We said we were getting clothes today”

Lance’s smile faded. He’d thought this was good plan... he’d messed up. He wanted to give Keith a break, but he’d read the situation wrong

“We’ll drop them off to Shiro, then go”

“That’s not what you were saying”

“No, but you want to go... so we can go”

“I don’t know why we need so many pizzas”

Because he’d wanted to go back to the apartment, put on a movie, then not have to move until necessary

“I got extra for Shiro and Curtis”

“There’s extra, then there’s 8 pizzas. You’re not feeding Matt and Rieva”

His heart flopped. He didn’t get why Keith was mad. He didn’t want to fight, but it hurt that Keith was acting like he hadn’t been thinking of him

“Whatever. Message Shiro and let him know”

“What do you mean “whatever”?”

“I mean it is what it is. Look, just message Shiro”

Keith sighed, the sound going right through him. How could get things so wrong? They’d both struggled looking at the range of sex toys available. Maybe Keith was mad he hadn’t been more receptive? He didn’t know how to have a boyfriend. He’d only ever had these feelings for Keith. He’d only ever had sex with Keith and sure the first couple of times were awkward but they’d figured things out together... This didn’t feel like Keith lashing out because he was flustered or embarrassed.

Lance’s mood only feel further as he drove back to near the apartment where Shiro and Curtis were waiting. Keith seemed to be messaging Shiro as Lance had driven. It was his fault for not acting like the mission was important. The Blades needed their outfits as soon as possible, he knew that, but would it have been so bad to take a break for both their sakes? As his eyes met Curtis’s, he knew Curtis saw too much of the mood he was trying to hide, quickly he turned from him, letting Keith grumble his heart out as the pair took the pile of food from Keith’s lap. Staying the night was looking less possible, despite the responsibilities he had waiting a home for him, he wanted to spend more time with Keith to come up with their own strategies and stuff.

Bidding goodbye to the pizza, Lance drove them across town to an upscale shopping centre that catered to the fancier part of Platt. He usually avoided it thanks to the fact he didn’t need fancy. Parking as close as he could get, the sounds immediately started getting to him. Rich people were so out of touch, it made him seem almost normal in comparison. Climbing out the car, the vampire double checked he had everything before walking towards the door, leaving Keith to catch up. If Keith had something he needed to work through, he’d wait until he had. What else could he do? They’d already spent time with Krolia and although dying to ask, he kept his mouth shut in respect. He was the one pouting so hard his bottom lip may as well be dragging, so he was the one who had to get over his mood.

Checking the shopping centre map for changes, Lance decided against following it. Sure, it’d be easier to simply go straight where they needed, but with some of the names these days they could be selling anything. Keith had his nose buried in his phone, Lance feeling pathetic that he was jealous Keith’s attention wasn’t on him. He did know one way to perk Keith up, there was a nice camera store on the second level, even a cranky Keith couldn’t say no to photography equipment. Lance had seen the dozens upon dozens of photos Keith had taken of Kosmo and the park when they’d gone as a group. He’d thought about taking Keith on a kind of tour of the city, yet it hadn’t eventuated yet. There were still plenty of places to visit, he’d just have to be patient and maybe kidnap Keith to the small city aquarium slash zoo... or save it for a surprise date... though Keith didn’t love surprises. As Lance started moving, Keith fell into step beside him... and that’d have to be good enough for now.

[saber-wing]

Limit

Also available on AO3

If Steve Rogers had a shit list, Victor von Doom would be among the top contenders.

The man was utterly merciless. He’d do anything to get what he wanted. He didn’t care how many innocent people stood in his way. And, his ideology was far too close to Red Skull’s iteration of world domination for comfort. He was the poster definition of a super villain. Overzealous. Cruel.

It was also his fault Manhattan was in such a sorry state, and that Steve had been out in the hot sun for days, working to clean up the wreckage alongside S.H.I.E.L.D. and other local and federal authorities. So much destruction in such a short time. It was unconscionable.

Steve yanked out another steel beam sticking up in the middle of the street and tossed it onto a truck with a pile of scrap metal. Breathing heavily, he wiped his face with the back of a dust-stained glove, eyes stinging from the sweat dripping into them.

They’d been at it for a while, and slowly, they were making progress. Most of Doom’s army of eviscerated robots had been cleared from the streets, and many survivors trapped under the rubble had been freed. There was still a lot of work to be done, but they were moving in the right direction.

Steve hunched over, resting a hand on his knee. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself a moment’s reprieve. Shoulders heaving, sweat carving a path through the grime, he contemplated the last time he’d stopped to rest. When had that been, exactly?

He couldn’t recall.

Certainly, he’d seen several shifts come and go. Steve kept working through it, with minimal scattered stops to eat at random intervals, and he tried to stay hydrated. Out in temperatures like these, not doing so could be fatal. But Steve was far stronger than the average human. He’d had worse in the army. He could handle backbreaking work, and keep it up for a far longer period.

The sooner the city got back to normal, the better. Its citizens couldn’t be expected to heal, living in limbo like this.

Tony was getting frustrated. He’d been pushing Steve to ‘stop being such a try hard and let S.H.I.E.L.D. pull their weight for a change.’ And he might have a point. Steve hadn’t slept in a while.

Abruptly, and with a bit of alarm, Steve realized he hadn’t the slightest idea how long ‘a while’ was.

Setting his jaw, Steve resolved to finish clearing this block. Then, he would rest. He squinted up at the sun, hand shielding his eyes. If he stopped by noon, he could be back out by sundown, and still allow for a fair amount of sleep. Food. Maybe a shower. He looked down at himself, wrinkling his nose.

Definitely a shower.

Steve straightened and took a few steps forward, working his way toward a pile of twisted metal that looked slightly more lethal than its surrounding compatriots. Someone could really hurt themselves on that. Sweat poured off him in buckets, and he blinked it out of his eyes, shaking his head, as if to shoo a fly away.

Big mistake. Steve’s head swam in a way it hadn’t in years, and his vision blurred before he blinked it away, dazed, light-headed, more than a little stunned. He stumbled over a jagged piece of rock; limbs heavy, movements sluggish.

Oh. Oh, wow, he was dizzy.

Steve shambled to an unwilling stop, dropping to one knee.

“Cap?” Someone knelt beside him. Touched his shoulder. The voice was familiar, but it seemed far away to Steve. As if they were speaking through a tub full of water. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Steve felt disconnected. Even his own voice seemed to belong to somebody else. “I’m fine. I just…just need a…”

Someone shouted with alarm.

Steve wanted to tell them it was all right. He’d get his feet back under him. No problem. He just needed a moment. A moment. That was all. Then he’d…he’d…

He felt himself pitch forward and fell into the black.

Steve came to with his head pillowed on someone’s lap – a metal hand, cupping his cheek. He lifted an arm to shield his eyes, groaning softly.

“Easy, babe. Back up! Give him some space, for fuck’s sake.”

“Tony?” Steve blinked his eyes open, grasping blindly for the blurry face, hovering above his.

Tony caught Steve’s hand. “Here. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Steve shook his head, wincing at the stabbing pain that sprang behind his eyes. He tried to sit up and was promptly assaulted by a wave of vertigo so intense, he had to stop, bringing a hand up to his forehead to steady himself.

“Whoa, easy there, big guy.” Tony was right there with him, one strong arm wrapping behind his back, supporting him. Holding him up. “Give it a minute.”

“What the…” Steve croaked, accepting a bottle of water Clint thrust into his hand from the sidelines. He twisted off the cap and guzzled it down like a man starved, and truthfully, he probably was. “What happened?”

“You passed out.” Tony’s hand tightened on the back of his uniform. “God damn it, Steve. I told you to cool it!”

Steve blinked.

He’d what?

Clint took one look at the stunned disbelief in his expression and took pity on him. He shrugged, and his voice was teasing, but soft. Almost hushed around the edges. “No, yeah. You did. Wilted like a daisy. Dropped like a stone, into my waiting, capable arms.”

“Wow,” Steve muttered, blowing an exhausted breath between his lips. “I…”

But…that was…he hadn’t fainted in years. Certainly not since the serum.

Someone – an unfamiliar woman in a S.H.I.E.L.D uniform -- crouched in front of Steve, toting what looked like a medical kit, and looking nearly as harried as Steve felt. “Captain Rogers? I’m just gonna take a quick look at you. Is that okay?”

Steve nodded his consent, squeezing his eyes shut when the motion made his head swim.

The woman examined Steve as best she could out on the field. He tried to comply, though his brain still felt sluggish. He answered a few basic questions for her. Yes, he knew what year it was. Yes, he knew the president, and how to say his full name.

Steve still felt shaky. His hands were clammy. And he was light-headed enough that he didn’t trust himself to stand without stumbling. He leaned against Tony, but he was careful not to bear his full weight on him. Steve wasn’t a complete invalid. He didn’t want to scare him. Though judging from his lover’s expression, that ship had sailed the moment Steve dropped to the ground, like a sack of potatoes.

The young woman pursed her lips as she finished the exam, frowning at him in a way that made him feel chastised. “Heat exhaustion. I’d like to take you back to the helicarrier, get some I.V. fluids pumped into you. Mr. Stark, you’re his medical proxy?”

“Yup.” Tony, typically the first one to shirk medical advice, nodded. “You have all necessary documentation on file.” There was something clipped about the words. A tension behind them that spoke of a maelstrom, churning just below the surface.

The woman nodded. “If the doctor clears him after the I.V. I can send him home with you, but he needs rest.”

“Oh, he’ll get it. Don’t worry your little head about that.” Tony flashed her a showman’s smile – pristine. Just the faintest flash of teeth.

Steve crossed his arms. He hated being talked over like this, particularly over a medical issue. He’d had quite enough of that as an asthmatic in the forties. “That’s hardly necessary. A few hours of rest will do me just fine. I need to be out here.”

Steve was sitting more steadily on his own now. Enough that Tony, evidently, felt it was safe to stand, whirling to face him in a flurry of waving limbs. “You’ve been out here for three days.”

Steve bristled. Had it really been that long?

Tony wasn’t finished. He continued before Steve even had a chance to open his mouth, frustration dripping from every pore. “How many of the National Guard’s tanks have you pulled out of ditches by yourself, in that time? Hmm?”

Steve blinked, not entirely sure where Tony was going with this. “I…don’t know, I wasn’t counting. A couple dozen. What does that have to do with anything?”

“What does that have to–” Tony cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He scoffed, gesturing at the medic with an exasperated wave of his hands. “You see what I have to deal with? What the hell is the matter with you? No, for fuck’s sake, sit down.” Tony pushed on his shoulders when he moved to stand up; hard enough that Steve – woefully off-balance – could only comply. He fell heavily onto his backside, blinking dazedly up at his boyfriend. Who looked…positively livid, if his reddening cheeks were any indication. “I’m calling it. You are way over your limit.”

“Pot, kettle,” Steve replied, which was perhaps, not the best thing he could have said. He winced the moment the words were out of his mouth, but that didn’t stop Tony from latching onto them anyway. Boy, did he ever latch on.

Tony stormed over to Steve, voice trembling with fury.

“That is not the same thing. I might spend too many nights in the workshop, but you don’t get to compare my stupid insomnia to lifting literal tanks out of ditches and tossing around pieces of skyscraper for days without a break. That is not how this works. You can get the fuck up off that right now Steve Rogers, or I swear to God…”

Steve had moved on from confused, to mildly alarmed. He reached out a hand. Tried to catch Tony’s wrist.

“Honey—”

Tony cut him off, jerking away. “Don’t honey me. I don’t wanna hear it.” His words were tight, cracked around the edges. “Every lecture you’ve given me about taking care of myself doesn’t mean a damned thing if you can’t practice what you preach, you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch! You haven’t slept at all, have you? You’ve literally been working. This entire time!”

Tony was really upset. His hands were moving a mile a minute, but Steve could see them shaking, and his brown eyes were wild, glimmering with anger. Anger, and something dangerously close to fear.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s just…take a breath,” Steve pleaded softly, but once Tony really got started, it took an act of God to stop him. He steam-rolled over Steve as if he hadn’t heard, pacing.

“You’ve got balls of steel, turning this back on me, you know that? I slept last night. And now I know for a fact you didn’t. Is there anything else I should know about, Steve, or am I the only significant other whose earth-shattering advice you’re ignoring right now?”

Steve held out a hand. “Tony – “

“You can come to me and say, ‘Oh, sweetheart, you’re working too hard, let’s take a break!’ But I do the same thing, and I’m overreacting?”

Steve paused, shutting his mouth with an audible click.

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Okay. Steve was willing to admit he may have overdone it just a tad. It had been a long day – long three days, apparently -- and the city wasn’t going to salvage itself. But Steve wasn’t ever in any real danger. The serum saw to that. He could take more abuse than anyone else out there. It didn’t make sense to give any less than that when his continued efforts might help pull them out of the hole that much sooner.

But there was such a thing as taking it too far, and Steve had clearly pushed that limit. It was never his intention to drive himself into the ground. He couldn’t help anybody then. Maybe he had been a bit overconfident.

Meanwhile, during Steve’s internal crisis, Tony had continued his tirade, face red, eyes…oh God, there were tears in his eyes.

Okay. That was enough. Steve needed to fix this.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? I saw you go down. I had a front row seat, Steven Grant Rogers, do you know what that did to me? Do –”

Steve took a breath. He tested his legs beneath him – they’d hold him. He was sure.

Pretty sure, anyway.

He pushed off his knees. His legs did hold him.

For a moment, anyway.

Tony noticed the movement immediately. His eyes widened in alarm, and when the world went sideways, Steve realized he was listing sideways.

He should probably sit back down now, but Tony got there first. He grabbed Steve by both arms, and Steve leaned forward, resting his forehead on Tony’s armored shoulder.

“Would you stop doing that?” Tony’s voice was strangled, pitched somewhere between annoyance, and frazzled amusement.

“What? Standing?” Steve’s voice was muffled, face pressed into the metal. Though it was cool on his heated forehead, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he didn’t complain.

Steve was precisely where he wanted to be.

“Yes. You’re awful at it. Sitting. Now, that’s where you excel. Let’s sit down forever, shall we?”

Steve chuckled, wrapping both arms around Tony’s waist. “Good thing I have a Shellhead to detail my shortcomings.”

“Not that you’ve listened to any of them for the past three days,” Tony muttered, voice small, bitter. Steve could feel some of the tension leave Tony’s posture, even through the armor. He held him closer. Took more of Steve’s weight, and Steve sagged against him, feeling weaker than he had in years, and more humbled than he cared to say.

He’d say it anyway. He owed Tony that.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, pulling back far enough to gaze into the prettiest brown eyes he’d ever seen. “It’s not right for me to expect something of you that I can’t do myself. I’ll be more careful.” It was a bitter pill to swallow. Steve had always thought of himself as a very self-aware person. Knowing his strengths, and his limits. Maybe he needed to reassess that opinion.

“Please.” Tony held his gaze, face twisted with anguish. The word was like a knife to the gut, raw with pleading. Knowing Steve had been the one to put it there turned his stomach. “I know I’m bad at it, too. But I’m trying here, Steve.”

“I know.” And it was true. Tony really had been taking better care of himself lately. Steve knew how hard he was trying. It hadn’t been fair of him to throw that up in his face, even in joking. “I know you are. I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

Tony exhaled heavily. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded. It wasn’t perfect. But it was a start.

Steve was practically weaving on his feet. He leaned his head into Tony’s chest plate. Wrapped both arms around his neck. “I don’t suppose you know anybody who could fly me up to the nearest helicarrier? I’m told I’m an idiot who stayed out in the sun for too long and didn’t sleep for three days.”

Tony chuckled obligingly – thin, forced, but it was still the reaction Steve was hoping for. “This is why I wanted to make you boot jets. Fair warning, I’m much more expensive than Uber, and I expect to be paid with love and affection.”

“You don’t have to do anything for that,” Steve murmured, thick tongued, too addled for anything but raw honesty.

Tony paused, at a loss for words. Steve was typically free with his affections, but Tony didn’t always know how to accept them when Steve meant them so much. And his smile trembled around the edges, eyes shining suspiciously.

“Suck up,” Tony choked, trying for humor, and falling just short. “That’s not fair. You can’t say shit like that when I’m mad at you.” A tear escaped.

Steve reached up to brush it away, cupping Tony’s cheek. He muttered something he wasn’t sure counted as an answer, but words were failing him now. God, he loved Tony. And though he couldn’t seem to manage saying it right now, Steve hoped he could always feel it.

Tony leaned into his touch for a long moment. Kissed his palm. “All right. That’s enough mush. I’m gonna puke.” His eyes told Steve he knew. And the soft, gentle quality of his words belied their meaning. “Come on, Princess Peach. Your castle awaits.”

Steve allowed himself to drift in Tony’s capable arms, blinks getting longer. Eyelids heavy. “I... understood...that reference,” he murmured. Not quite slurring, but with lazy, rounded words.

Tony pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “Our feathered friend will be happy ‘Super Mario World’ weekend didn’t go to waste.”

[hereliesbitches--me]

Starter Call (Still open!!)

@thewhitepoison

It'll get easier.         The wolf told himself. It'll get, as the seconds turn to minutes. Minutes to hours. Hours to days. Days to years. With the passing of time, feelings will fade, and he will feel at home again.

     But Earth was so damn different from Atrolize, it was a wonder he could get out of bed every morning and head out into the noisy world for work in the evening.  When Rick woke, bitterness was the first to set in as the comforts of dreams so quickly slipped from him, to leave behind a broken up , lonesome man in a cold bed far too small for his hulking body. As routine, he laid there for a good while and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling, taking in the unnatural silence and comparing it to every reason why it was not like the barracks he’d grown up in, til the alarm at the bedside blared annoyingly too late to scold him out of his comfort. Even that annoying little clock had nothing compared to the sirens that wailed to wake up the teams for training. Heaving a heavy sigh, a soldier no more wiped a hand down his face and rolled out to the bathroom finally.

    Every morning he was explicitly reminded just how small the average human was, when he hit his head in the doorway like he did every time in the damn doorway he failed to duck through out of habit ; By now, it was nothing more than a dull irritable pain that went away after a gruff growl and a stern rubbing. He used the bathroom, stared at his face in the mirror for a while, to meet the eyes of a strange man he did not recognize much these days. A massive, pawlike hand rose lazily, brushing through disheveled locks to smooth it out of his eyes just enough to really get a look at himself. That hair bounced right back when no hand tamed it. Rick scratched at his jaw and hummed thoughtfully with the mind to shave the growing beard he was not used to being present so thickly, however the calloused fingers grew distracted by the deep scarring that marred the rugged features along his jaw, cheeks, and nose. Absently, he traced them individually, in a way no one had ever dared to touch. Not that anyone cared to try -- for their superior was no kind dog when it came to stranger hands reaching towards him. Last thing anyone wanted was to be bitten, jabbed, or subjugated to the worst of cleaning duties instead of training and sparring. The deep blue eyes, hollowed and distant in their socket, drifted down to the scarred body unused to the lack of weight this planet provided, and the strange sensation brought about in knowing he would never need to pack on his armor again. These days, and for the rest of his life, that comfortable metal skin would lay away in the back of a closet where no one would ever find it (for his own safety and theirs. )

“ You keep looking at yourself, you’re gonna get lost in the mirror. Just shave and get out..”  He broke the silence with his own voice and winced at the empty echo of the bathroom. Nonetheless, he took his own advice. Shaved, fixed himself up to something more presentable, even if  everything fit tightly and seemed to threaten tearing if he moved the wrong way      Definitely need to look into custom made stuff.. Like all things, having money for that would take time. A soldier will make do with what he has, because god knows Rick was gonna live for a very long time by Earth standards..

    Before anybody knew it, late afternoon rolled by into evening, and the trek to work would set him at about closing time once he arrived. At least if he timed it right. Another deep sigh of exhaustion left his throat as he tied his boots and shrugged on a heavy coat. A cold evening was promised tonight, judging by the frosted window panes. On his way out, Rick paused in the open doorway and stared around his empty apartment. A sound had whisked by his ear so faintly, he could have sworn it was a whisper.        What did it say….?    Why the hell was he even asking about what the wind said? Rick’s face tightened suspiciously… his ears standing forward, tail hanging low with focus. Despite his doubt, his voice acted before his brain did, “ Hello? Anybody in here..? ”

He waited. He waited for a good few minutes. Nothing. Truth be told, Rick wasn’t sure why it disappointed him. He wasn’t waiting for anyone, as far as he knew. But now he was running late. Uttering a mild curse, keys jingling in hand, he shut the door roughly and took long strides equivalent to the average person’s sprint to get downstairs and out into the streets. Once a soldier, always a soldier. Being tardy would never be acceptable, even as a standard solely held by himself.

   Rick got to work exactly 5 minutes late, as expected. No one really cared except for the guy he was relieving, but the reaction wasn’t much. No one dared to hassle or pick a fight with a muscular dog man that edged nearly eight feet tall, and as much as his height on Earth was a curse, he was grateful at times like this. The mall closed earlier than usual, not that he knew or cared why, because it was all the same when your job was to watch for trouble all night. “ Hey, uh, Guard Dog... ” his coworker called him, undoubtedly forgetting Rick’s name in the same way Rick often forgot his. Rick looked up from the phone he was fumbling with and simply raised a brow. The other guard pointed towards one of the monitors within their wall of screens. He tapped a baton lightly at a figure,  “ Looks like we got a guest that didn’t get the memo.” Pursing his lips, Rick set the phone down and sat up straighter,  “ They can read the sign or take the hint why there aren't many cars in the parking lot.” He turned his eyes back to the phone, a sizable device that ran small for his own hand, and poked around the screen again to pass the time. For a minute silence lingered, the coworker watching the monitor intently and otherwise ignored, til he chuckled. The sound made Rick look up with a slight scowl of confusion, “ What’s so funny?” “ It's a really cute girl that's outside, and now she’s pulling at the door. Look at her! She’s wrapped up like a little bunny out there in the cold,”  the guard, perhaps his name was peter or something with a p, leaned forward and giggled harder, “ Aw look at her! I don’t think she even realizes there’s a paper on the door- ”  he paused,      “ ah, wait a minute..” “ Let me guess,” Rick rolled his eyes and put his phone away, “ She’s at a door that doesn’t have a sign on it.” Peter looked towards him and blinked, “ How did you know? Where are you going? ” The giant was already on his feet and heading out the door, “ Gonna tell her we’re closed before she hurts herself.” Peter may have called out something, though Rick didn’t care to stop and hear him.

    He really just needed to walk. 

   Take the long way, because walking passed the time. At least this way, when he got there then maybe the girl would have taken the hint and left. If she left, then he could just walk around more with the excuse he went looking for her, and peter in the office wouldn’t think to question him despite having the evidence on camera.      Tragically, life hardly ever worked in his favor. Much to his exasperation, when he turned the corner there was the little woman pulling at the doors and seemingly huffing in frustration. There wasn’t much he could make out of her beneath layers of heavy winter clothing, but he felt bad for her for sitting out in the cold.  Last he checked, it was below ten degrees out there, and it didn’t look like she was wearing any kind of gloves. Odd… but this was New York after all. Humans here were sturdy bastards. Slowing his pace, Rick stopped upon the door and stared at her through the glass warily. Key senses in the military saves your life, just like it could in civilian situations when dealing with a violent, unpredictable species. Keen eyes peered her over closely now for anything out of place.. A knife, a gun, pepper spray as the women here like to use. Anything that would warrant that he would not open the door or that her intentions were malicious.

In the end, all he found was a cold girl staring back at him peculiarly with warm brown eyes.. His nostrils flared with a quick breath, then he gently pushed open the door just enough to step out and regard her,

“ In case you didn’t notice by the locked doors or the empty parking lot, Miss.. The mall closed early today.”

He spoke flatly, words coupled with a breath of fog in the frigid air,   “ No amount of fighting this door is gonna make it open.”

[peachyteabuck]

ceo chronicles, pt i. ~ peggy carter

series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each charcter is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue. 

fic summary: anyone as busy and important as peggy carter needs a good stress coping mechanism. ms. carter has tried everything from yoga to stress balls to acupuncture to cross stitch. none of them worked, until she found you. 

pairing: sugar baby!reader x ceo!peggy carter. takes place in modern times. 

words: 2,020

trigger warnings: harold, they’re lesbians. oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, d/s dynamics, anal, dirty talk, degradation, overstimulation

notes/other: there is not enough peggy carter smut on the internet, and i have taken upon myself to fill that gap. enjoy!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The minute you step into the impeccably decorated office with its modern décor and light blue walls, you silently walk behind Peggy’s grand black desk and fall to your knees on the small plot of carpeting to her right. You know exactly where to go, you’ve been hers for so long there are even two indents for where your knees go in the plush, light grey material.

One of Peggy’s famous “mmm”s catches your attention, your spine straightening and shoulders pushing back. “Are you wearing the collar?” she asks, foregoing looking at you to write something on the large desk calendar that she’s fucked you on at least four times this quarter. While doesn’t so much as gaze at you, your eyes are trained directly on her - just as she likes it.

“Yes, Mistress,” you tell her. As you speak your throat bumps against the collar secured loosely around the base of your neck. The high neckline on the fluffy, white pink sweater you’re wearing hides it well to strangers and Peggy’s staff, but the diamond-encrusted leather is still very well known to you and the other woman in the room. The weight of it is enough to make you remember it’s there, but Peggy always likes readjusting it herself when she snaps the matching leash into place. All you want to do is run your fingers over the block letters as your heart races, it’s always calming; a reminder that you’re hers. It’s a nervous habit, to rub at where it rests under your strategically-chosen clothes. Somehow it makes you feel safe, untouchable. You never slip your finger into the silver O-ring, though, that’s Peggy’s only stipulation. Only she can attach leashes or chole you with it. Still, you pull down the top enough to reveal the small piece of metal, so your fingers can twitch as they trace its outer edges.

“Good, Pet,” she murmurs, still not looking your way. She sounds distracted, moment later typing out (what you assume is) an email at her average lightning speed. It doesn’t take long for the familiar two-tone notification that signals replies to sound, and within seconds of opening it she tsks at her screen. You can’t tell whether it’s at you or whoever she’s replying to, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Mistress is disappointed, and it is her Pet’s job to make her forget her troubles and feel better.  

“What is wrong, Mistress?” you ask, taking special care not to touch her as you scoot closer to her.

Peggy shrugs, rolling her eyes. “An asshole from the Barnes corporation, you know the one whose CEO wants a merger?” You nod, but her eyes remain locked on the screen. “Keeps readjusting the meeting times to discuss some of the NDAs his boss wants me to sign. It’s really pissing me off.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Oh,” she sighs, finally turning to you. Her famous red lips curl up into a genuine smile as she caresses your jaw with a soft hand. “It’s not your fault.”

You squirm, unsatisfied. “Is there anything I can do make you feel better, Mistress?”

Peggy’s grin, though sweet, also borders on sinister. Not one that you fear, necessarily, but one that still sends shivers down your spine. Without looking back, she calls for her assistant, who immediately appears.

“Yes, Ms. Carter?” He asks. His name is Steve, you’re told, and he’s a scrappy, hard-working kid who mostly got a job for the health insurance.

Now you capture her unwavering attention, her mischievous squint and devious smirk only focused on you. “Clear my schedule for the next hour.”

“Yes Ms. Carter,” Steve recites the usual response. “I’ll do that now.

Peggy bites her lip as she watches you squeeze your thighs together, the material of your leggings doing nothing to hide your arousal.  “Actually…make it two.”

The next few beats are silent, the both of you unsure of the next move. Peggy waiting to make sure you’re as desperate as she likes (which is very, very desperate), you to see what she wants from you this time. If she’s planning on something rough, she likes to ease into it. Today she seems just tired, stressed, looking for an outlet to release her frustrations on. Per usual, that outlet is you.

“Strip,” she commands, voice taunt. You do as you’re told, carefully taking off each item of clothing before folding and placing them on one of the chairs on the other side of the office before returning to your spot on the floor. “Good pet,” she praises, running her blood-red nails over your lips before pushing her thumb onto your tongue. You suck on it, swirling your tongue around the rough pad of her finger and the smooth, polished nail. As she lifts her hand you move with her, following her lead as she moves you between her legs.

You know what to do, know that she likes her shoes off and skirt pulled off to prevent the expensive item from wrinkling. Peggy obviously planned for this day to be long, as she’s just wearing a sweater that’s now creased from when it was tucked into her skirt. It’s her own version of “casual,” her own vision for a lazy day. The soft knit sometimes slips down her stomach and rubs against your forehead as you kiss over her black lace panties and push them aside to sink a finger into her heat.

“Such a good little kitten,” she sighs happily. Her eyes are closed, bottom lip between teeth. Each soft kiss you leave across her lips causes a small, gaspy moan to slip from her mouth. “God, you’re so good at this, aren’t you? Love being Mistress’ little slut, huh?”

You nod, tongue dipping in and out of her wetness. It’s easy to get her worked up, even when she’s as stressed as she is now. But that’s your job, isn’t it? To make sure Peggy’s able to be focused on her job and her company and her meetings and her business partners and making sure nobody tries to take her down because every fucking man in this world thinks she’s not tough or smart or good enough to be as powerful as she is combined with everything else she has to worry about that is always trying to make her work-pleasure scale out of balance. It’s your job to see that she’s always able to focus on the tasks in front and ahead of her.

You can tell she’s about to come when her thighs start squeezing around your head and her hand starts grabbing at the nape of your neck to push your forward. Peggy needs to stay quiet; the walls are thick, but her screams are famous for leaking through any material the world sets before her. Even as she bites down on her sleeve and digs her heels into the base of her spine, loud moans bounce off the walls. The small “Oh, fuck baby”s and “right there, pet”s keep you going, even when you’re trapped and become light-headed from the lack of oxygen. She reaches her orgasm with three fingers stuffed inside of her and your mouth latched to her clit, her legs tensing around you before melting at your sides. You don’t stop, though, as she grips at your hair and falls back in her chair. You won’t stop until Mistress tells you to.

Peggy ends up pushing you away with her foot, leaning over to grab a key that’s hidden in a secret compartment below her overflowing pen cup. Her hands shake from pleasure as she unlocks the drawer closest to the floor. From it she pulls a matte black strap on attached to a matching leather harness. Easily, she manhandles you into position, tugging the toy on with one and rubbing at your dripping folds with the other.

“So wet and ready for me, huh kitten?” She purrs as two fingers drip inside of you. You mewl, your own fingers gripping at the edge of the desk. “Always such well-behaved little slut.”

Peggy pulls your fingers out and positions herself at your entrance, giving you a fraction of a second to recognize her next move before she begins plowing into you with long, steady strokes. Within moments she’s got one foot on the table and one hand in your hair for a better angle, the slant of her body finding that special spot inside of you that makes you cry out in pleasure every time her hips press into your ass. Soon, almost too soon, you start begging to come, desperate for release. The sounds that leave your throat aren’t cute and high-pitched like before, they’re closer to deep, guttural sobs that surprise even Peggy as she bends down to coo in your ear.

“Such a greedy slut for Mistress’ cock, aren’t ya?” Her distinctive accent becomes thicker with every word, each met with an unmelodic squeak from you. “C’mon, tell Mistress how much you love her cock.”

You’re close, she knows this. She knows if you shift any of the brain power that’s going to not coming to speaking you won’t be able to walk by the time she’s done with you. Still, disobeying might be the worst outcome of all the others. At first the words are small and strangled, but soon enough they begin to flow from your mouth like water from a drain during a rainstorm. “Oh, god yes Mistress, yes I love your cock. I love the way you fuck me and use me, love the way you use me like the fuck doll I am, love the way I take all your stress away. Love being the plaything you call in when every man at work pisses you off, love knowing that when you want to fire all of them. Love knowing every Wednesday when you get paid means you get to spoil me and fuck me until I can’t walk or speak or- oh!”

Peggy’s slipped out of you, pressing a larger toy – a vibrator, you soon become aware – into your pussy. You’re about to asks why she stopped, if you can come, if she’s going to continue, but then you’re slack-jawed as she slips two lube-covered fingers into your tight asshole. “Figured you’d like that, huh baby girl?”

All you can is gulp as gasp, her thigh leveled to keep the thick toy in your cunt and her fingers slowly working you open. You don’t protest as she pushes you to the floor, can’t object to her stopping to move you into another position – this time on your back – as she slips the strap onto into your ass. You feel so stuffed; both your holes being fucked at once and Peggy rubbing at your clit. “C-can I cum, Mistress?” you beg, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes before falling down your cheeks. You’re sure the mascara Peggy bought you is running now, smeared just like your lip glosses and eyebrows.

She leaves a light kiss at your temple before whispering into your ear. “Cum all you want, kitten.”

Your orgasms come quickly, your body still convulsing from the pulses of the last when the next one hits. By the end you’re crying fat tears onto the wooden floor as your limbs shake and shudder involuntarily. Somewhere in the back of your mind you try to count how many orgasms you had, but you quickly lose count at six.

The air around you suddenly cools as Peggy pulls away, redressing herself before wrapping you in quilts that smell like her and dragging you onto the couch to sleep. Sometimes if the play was light she’d send you home, but with how tired and dehydrated and deep into substance you are she doesn’t want to leave you alone. She quickly texts to switch all her appointments to remote so she can keep an eye on you as you rest, wrapped in thick quilts as you fall asleep.

Everything okay? Steve texts back.

Peggy smiles at your sleeping form as she types her reply.

Yeah, everything’s perfect.

[dyde21]

‘I live in the apartment below yours and I keep getting your mail this needs to stop dammit’ Percabeth!

Thank you for the prompt and sorry for the delay! This took a while to get out. It was very fun though! I really like how it turned out! 

XxXxXxXX

If you had to ask Percy, he would sayhe was a pretty average guy when it came to intelligence. He wasn’ttoo smart, nor did he really think himself too dumb. But for the lifeof him, he could not figure out why Amazon hated him. Or, morespecifically, why it just lied to him consistently. His friend Piperhad finally convinced him to sign up for Amazon Prime, and he finallyunderstood what all the hype was for around it. Having thingsdelivered to his doorstep was amazing. Especially considering itsaved him a trip on the sketchy-at-best subway, and hauling whateverhe bought up to his fourth floor apartment.

Rather, coming homeafter a long day of classes, followed by his volunteer work at thefire station, and finding food and supplies just waiting for him topick up felt like a gift from God. At first he had been hesitant, nottrusting the general New York population to not steal his stuff forobvious reasons, but slowly he found his packages were always safeand waiting for him. So he had been ramping up his orders, slowlyrelying less and less on physical shopping.

Everything wasseemingly perfect, except for one small thing.

Hispackages were always aday late. He had absolutely no idea why either. They always said theywere delivered, but sure enough there’d be nothing waiting outsidehis door. The first time it had happened he had freaked out, but whenhe woke up the next morning, he kicked the box when he was leavingfor classes. Figuring it a fluke, Piper had convinced him to give itanother another try, and sure enough it happened again. His packagewas missing the first day, only to show up in perfect condition thenext. The same thing happened the time after that. And the one afterthat. And the one after that.

After a while,Percy just accepted it as normal. A side effect from living in NewYork, he supposed. If you got hung up on every weird thing thathappened to you in that city, you’d go insane.

So for now, Percyjust planned his life around things arriving a day later. Emails liedto him, his mail had it’s own sense of timing, and Percy was onceagain, victim to the seemingly endless amount of weird shit in hislife.

So when his copy ofhis new game was delivered a day late, he wasn’t too surprised. Whatdid surprised him though, was the very angry note scrawled on top ofit.

“STOP BUYING THINGS.”

Picking up thepackage, Percy quickly went inside before he set it down on thetable.

Did his packagejust yell at him? Maybe Amazon did hate him after all.

Setting it down onhis table, he stared at it for a moment. The handwriting was nice.Like, definitely hand written with care, which was an odd contrast toit’s angry message. Unsure of exactly how to respond, he threw thenote away before opening his package. He figured it could have justbeen an annoyed neighbor who was tired of hearing the deliveryman.He’d ask Piper about it later anyway. Starting up his new game, Percytried to push it out of his mind. He wasn’t going to figure anythingout just by stressing out over it. Sending a text to Piper, hefigured a long day of gaming would be just what his mind needed toget over it and relax again.

When he foundanother note on his next package, Percy finally started to freak outa bit.

“I’M SERIOUS. STOP.”

He texted Piper,who immediately rushed over. By the time she got there, Percy wassitting with the package on the table again.

Piper stared at thenote for a moment. “A girl wrote that.” She offered, before shepaused. “Maybe you should stop ordering.”

Percy groaned,leaning back on the couch dramatically. “I have to give up theblessing of Amazon because someone hates the delivery guy? This soisn’t fair.”

Piper rolled hereyes, nudging him to scoot over so she could sit down. “Let’s see.Every time you order a package, it shows up a day late. Recentlythere’s started being a threatening note on it as well.” Shesummarized, thinking. “When do the packages arrive late?”

Percy thought for amoment. “Either late at night or early morning. It’s never therebefore I go to bed that day, but always there by the time I wake up.”

Piper paused,cracking open her Arizona iced tea and taking a sip. “You know whatthis calls for, right?”

Tilting his head,Percy thought for a moment. “I need a new apartment?”

Rolling her eyes,she gently slapped him upside the head. “No! You need to set atrap.”

Percy squinted hiseyes. “Have you been binging Sherlock again?”

Piper squared hershoulders. “Maybe. But that has nothing to do with this. If someoneis delivering this package late consistently, you just need to catchthem in the act. Order another package, next time it’s delivered,wake up super early then wait outside. That way when the package isbeing dropped off, you can catch the delivery person and ask himwhats up, and figure out why she is leaving an angry note with you.”

“What if she’sdangerous?” Percy asked after a moment of consideration.

Piper raised aneyebrow, glancing at him. “You’re a volunteer fire fighter in greatshape, in a small hallway, surrounded by plenty of people who willcome running if you call for help. I think you’ll be fine.”

Percy pouted.“You’re not concerned for my health at all. I thought we weresupposed to be best friends.”

Piper justshrugged. “I promise to visit you in the hospital if something goeswrong.” She offered, before reaching forward to grab thePlayStation controller.

Percy just sighedand grabbed his laptop, starting to browse Amazon. At least he had anexcuse for an impulse purchase this time.

XxXxXxXxX

Slamming his alarmclock with perhaps a little too much force, Percy groaned and rolledover. He really, really hated waking up early, and getting up at 4:30felt like a sin. No one should be up this early. Still, rememberingwhy he had to get up after a moment was enough motivation.Literally dragging himself out of his bed, he forced himself to walkto the door. He pulled on a shirt, ran a hand through his hair,grabbed his phone and keys, then opened the door. Sure enough, therewas no package yet. Pausing for a moment, he figured he had no optionother than to just sit and wait.

Pulling out hisphone, he scrolled through twitter for a bit, checked snapchats hewas behind on, sending one to Piper for good measure just to prove heactually woke up on time.

Twenty minuteslater, and Percy was now bored and tired.

His eyes feltheavy, his usual habit of still being asleep at this time wasstarting to catch up to him and he felt his body settle down. Hetried to fight it, but a few minutes later and Percy was out cold,bundled up against his door.

When he did finallyawake, it was to someone shaking his shoulders. A very pretty girlwith curly blonde hair and stormy gray eyes was staring at him with acomplicated expression, her lips tight in a line like she couldn’tdecide what to say. After a moment where Percy just stared at her,still 70% asleep, she finally spoke.

“You drool whenyou sleep.”

XxXxXxXxX

When Annabeth camehome to find yet another amazon delivery box on her doorstep,she seriously began to consider if she could adapt to life in prisonfor committing murder.

Seriously, she haslost track of how many times someone else’s packages had shown up ather door. At first she had found it amusing that it was a simplemistake, but then it kept happening over and over again. How couldthis “Percy” not realize?

Between studyingArchitecture in college, and working in a cafe, Annabeth reallydidn’t have the time, or motivation to deal with drama with anotherresident of her apartment complex, so she just found out hisapartment from the clerk in the lobby, and dropped it off on her wayto her early classes the next day. Problem solved.

At least, it shouldhave been. With any normal person, it surely would have been, right?They would have realized something was up and realized that thedelivery address was wrong.

But no, whoeverthis Percy was either hated her, or didn’t care enough to fix it.

Annabeth had beentempted to keep the package for herself, but she didn’t really playgames and judging by the label, it was some game she had never heardof. Well that, and the fact it’d be stealing and all that.

So she had justmade the habit of dropping off his packages and hoping he’d get thehint eventually.

When Annabethtripped over the package going into her apartment, she decided she ithad been the last straw. Calling her friend Jason, she wondered whatthe worst thing she could do to the guy while still avoiding legaltrouble. Instead of being her accomplice, he had decided to be thevoice of reason like the goody two-shoes he was, and told her towrite a note.

Annabeth would goto the grave before she would admit the fact that that had simply…never occurred to her. Her frustrations had lead her down the path ofpetty revenge before any more reasonable alternatives had presentedthemselves.

Decided to take hisadvice, she left a simple note. Straight forward and to the point,just like her.

On the back of thenote she made sure to leave her name and explain that the floornumber was wrong on the shipping address.

Problem solved!

With a smile on herface, she made sure to drop the package off in the morning on her wayto class, feeling a weight being lifted off her shoulder. A monthslong irritation was finally gone.

At least, she hadthought so.

When she came homea few days later to another package, she had let out a sound thatJason had only described as an “unholy shriek.”

She was glad herfriend had decided to study with her that day, otherwise she very maywell have done something stupid.

He had suggestedwriting another note, and taping it to the box. Maybe it had gottenseparated from the package before “Percy” had seen it.

She had writtenanother note, perhaps a little more… aggressive, than her previousone, but she had had a rough week, so sue her. Hopefully he didn’tactually…

Making sure to flipit over, and once again explaining how the wrong floor was on hisshipping address for Amazon. She also included her name again.

Satisfied thatsurely this Percy couldn’t make the same mistake again, Annabethtried to distract herself with studying and once again hoping thatthe problem would be solved.

It turned out theonly thing worse than coming home to a package that she feltobligated to deliver, was never knowing if there was going to be apackage waiting for her. The anticipation was killing her.

On the bright side,that anticipation didn’t last long. Three days later and she foundanother package outside her door. Coincidentally it was around thenthat Annabeth decided Jail might not be so bad after all.

She had calledJason, and together they decided that she would just settle it onceand for all. Instead of leaving the package and a note, she wouldknock on the door until he answered and just settle the confusion inperson. No more passive-aggressive run arounds. Jason had offered tobe there as well, feeling a bit nervous about his friend confrontinga stranger early in a morning in New York, but Annabeth had waved himoff, promising that despite how frustrated she was, she was justgoing to talk to him, and she carried pepper spray with her always.

That’s how Annabethfound herself walking down the annoyingly familiar hallway, runningover the explanation she had planned out in her head over and overagain. It’d be short, simple, polite, and concise. The problem wouldbe solved, and if not she’d talk to Amazon support or the apartmentmanagement. Turning the corner, whatever plan she had vanished fromher mind when she saw someone leaning against “Percy's” door.

She hesitated for amoment, unsure of how to react, before she slowly made her waytowards him. Judging by the rise and fall of his shoulders steadily,he was asleep.

Was he locked out?If he was, Annabeth suddenly found it a lot more plausible that thiswas all a giant, and annoying, misunderstanding. Hesitating, Annabethwasn’t sure how to actually wake him up.

Calling his namemight be weird considering they’ve never spoken before. Kicking himfelt wrong, even if it would have felt a little right… Pausing, shesquatted down in front of him, reaching out only to pause in front ofhis shoulder. Biting her lip, Annabeth gently nudged his shoulder.

The young manslowly stirred, seemingly coming to life as he looked at her, clearlystill mostly asleep. The mess of raven colored hair on his headcontrasted his the sea green eyes that blearily studied her. Atrickle of drool ran down the corner of his mouth, and despite themix of emotions in her, some part of her long-time single mindregistered that he was actually deceptively cute.

Remembering she washere on a mission, she ordered her brain to begin her preparedspeech.

“You drool whenyou sleep.”

…Shit.

That wasn’t part ofit. Abort. Abort. Abort. The whole situation had just caught her offguard, and her train of thought was already off the tracks and onfire in a ditch somewhere.

“Sorry.” Theboy offered quickly, scrambling to stand up before he slammed hishead into the bottom of the doorknob with a loud thud, causing him tocollapse back to the ground, rubbing the top of his head as he groan.

Annabeth bit back alaugh at his expense, biting her lip to hide a smile. Her hands wereawkwardly in front of her, stuck between wanting to help, and notexactly know what to do or say to this stranger. “Are you okay?”A normal statement this time at least.

The boy nodded.“I’m… fine. Ow. Just a mild concussion probably.” He muttered,before something seemed to click in his mind. “Are you… the notelady?”

Annabeth noddedslowly, glad the conversationwas finally heading in the intended direction.

“Pleasedon’t hurt me.” Percy offered, still rubbing the top of his head.

Annabethwinced. Writing notes while upset clearly wasn’t a good idea. Even ifit was annoying, shehad meant to actually threaten him. “I wont. I just… Ilive in the apartment below yours and I keep getting your mail thisneeds to stop dammit.” She erupted suddenly, glad to finally getthat off her chest.

Theboy stared at her confused, and Annabeth could practically see thegears aligning in his head. “Wait, all my packages have been goingto you?”

Annabethnodded, exasperated.

“Didyou get my note?”

Percypaused. “The threats?”

Annabethstared at him. “On the back of those, I explained everything andgave my name.”

Percylooked off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kindathrew them away after seeing the threat. I didn’t flip them over.”

Annabethcouldn’t believe him, but she also couldn’t completely blame him.Annabeth wouldn’t exactly want to examine any “threats” she gotherself.

Annabethjust dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t believe how longthis went on.”

Percyjust let his head fall back against his door. “So I messed up theshipping address.” He muttered, his face flushing red. “I reallyshould have noticed that.”

Annabethjust gave him a look of disbelief. “What did you think happenedwith all the packages?”

Percyshrugged. “I had no idea, but they always showed up the next day soI figured I would just let it be.”

Annabethjust sighed, but couldn’t exactly blame him once again. Annabeth haddealt with her own share of weird stuff in her life, sometimes notquestioning things was the best option.

Annabethjust sighed. “Well fix it please. Also… you might wanna lay offyour orders.” She offered with an eye roll.

Percyjust laughed sheepishly. “I”ll fix it tonight, I promise.”

Nodding,Annabeth stood up, suddenly finding a lack of conversation to talkabout.

“Aslong as this is fixed…” She offered, a little lamely.

Percystood up suddenly. “Wait… can I get your name at least?”

Caughtoff guard, she nodded. “Annabeth Chase.”

Percysmiled, offering his hand. “Percy Jackson.”

Rollingher eyes, Annabeth shook his hand. “I know.”

Pausingfor a moment, Annabeth waved before she started to walk away,figuring the situation was resolved.

“Hey…”He interrupted again, hesitance in his voice clearly.

Annabethturned around again, raising an eyebrow at the clear stress he seemedto be feeling.

“Dinner…I feel bad for having you be my courier for so long. Can I get youdinner to make up for it?” He asked, only making fleeting eyecontact as his gaze flickered everywhere else. She noticed his cheekswere flushed, and that only caused her own cheeks to feel warm.

Hereyes flicked over his form.

Well…he was cute. At least a little. Plus he did kinda owe her…

“Areyou free around 7? That’s when my shift ends.” She offered, tryingto keep her voice steady. She was so out of practice withstuff like this.

Percynodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Meet you in the lobby?”

Annabethnodded, flashing him a smile before she waved to head off to herclass.

Thesecond she left the building, Jason found his phone exploding with alot of frantic texts.

Ifshe had seemed a little distracted during classes that day, Annabethwould just insist she had a lot of her mind. When Jason pointed outthe small smile she seemed to be wearing the whole day, she justkicked his shin and mumbled out something about being relieved thatan annoyance was gone.

WhenAnnabeth finally made her way down to the lobby, her heart wasgripped with fear for a moment that he wouldn’t actually be there,and this was all some cruel prank for her threatening notes.

Sureenough though, she found him chilling in one of the large chairs. Hewas dressed for a casual night out, much to Annabeth’s relief as shehad gambled that was the proper dress attire for the night as well,and he had seemingly attempted to comb his hair. It hadn’t done muchto restrain the messy black locks on his hair, but she appreciatedthe attempt.

“Ready?”She asked, raising an eyebrow.

WhenPercy saw her, his eyes lit up and he hopped up. “Of course!”

Annabethwasn’t exactly sure how she expected the definitely-not-a-date to go,but he had taken her to his favorite pizza place. It also turned outthat he was surprisingly easy to talk to. She had found out he alsoattended her school, was attending for marine biology, volunteered asa fire fighter, and got way too excited about surfing. Shefigured it would have been a quick dinner, but she was definitelysurprised when she had noticed two hours had passed with themchatting in that pizzeria.

Ithad been Annabeth’s turn to be bold when they exchanged numbers atthe end of the night, and Annabeth was pretty satisfied that she hadmanaged to make a new friend.

Atleast, until she woke up a few days later and found another box infront of her door. Before she could smash his door in and throw it athim, she noticed something was different about this box. It actuallyhad her name on it.

Cautiouslyshe opened it up, unsure of what to expect. What she found made herheart skip a beat.

Insidewas only what could be described as a care package.

Itwas a combination of her favorite chocolate, a box of her favoritetea, the new romcom she had fallen in love with, and a finding nemoplushy. All things she had mentioned liking off handedly to Percy’squestions during their dinner. Never in a million years would shehave expected him to actually remember what she had said, let aloneget her a gift. At least aside from the plush, that seemed to bePercy’s own addition.

Ithad taken her half the day to figure out just what to text him inthanks. Her message had been simple, but a few days later Percy wouldwake up to find a package of his own waiting outside his door.Luckily Annabeth had seen the content list enough times on hispackages that she had a pretty good idea of what he liked, aside fromwhat he had mentioned on their dinner.

Whenshe had received a text that was little more than a string ofexclamation points and random capitalized letters, she figured shehad guessed pretty well.

Shortlyafter she had received an invite to go bowling with Percy and hisfriend Piper, Annabeth may had agreed a little too quickly, aftersecuring an invite for her friend Jason as well.

Thenext morning Annabeth had found another package waiting for heroutside. Opening it with a sigh, pulling out her favorite chocolate,Annabeth finally caved and bought Amazon prime as she began browsing.Snacking on the chocolate with a small smile, Annabeth figured she’dprobably get plenty of use out of Amazon prime as she made sure tosave a secondary address to her account.

Afew years later, Annabeth would be glad she no longer had to worryabout getting someone else’s mail when Percy and herself startedsharing an address.

XxXxXxXxX

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I really love the idea of Percy and Annabeth sending packages back and forth occasionally as flirting. Anyway, this was one of the many prompts I have in my inbox, feel free to suggest more from THIS LIST.

[whatwewrotepodcast]

Character Profile - Ithuriel

Basic Statistics  

Name: Ithuriel Age: 6 months or eternity, depends how you look at it Nationality: Currently American, formally Divine Socioeconomic Level as a child: N/A Socioeconomic Level as an adult: Low Hometown: Heaven Current Residence: Brooklyn, New York Occupation: Enforcer for Raif Income: N/A Talents/Skills: Proficient with a range of hand guns, good aim, also competent in hand-to-hand fighting, and the use of a spear in both ranged and hand-to-hand combat.   Salary: N/A Birth order: 3rd of 7 Siblings (describe relationship): Technically the other 6 Arc Angels are his brothers and sisters. Previously a good relationship with most of them, though he was closest to Gabriel, Amitiel and Raphael, however his relationship with Gabriel suffered after his fall.   Spouse (describe relationship): N/A Children (describe relationship): N/A Grandparents (describe relationship): N/A Grandchildren (describe relationship): N/A Significant Others (describe relationship): N/A at commencement of TSC Relationship skills: Ithuriel’s relationship skills are not the best. He has a tendency to be prickly and overreactive, and often blows things out of proportion. He can be shy and reserved and hard to get to know. He makes up for these deficits by being a genuinely kind, warm person who never intends to hurt anyone, and generally feels guilty when his actions adversely affect those he cares about.  

More beneath the cut

Physical Characteristics:  Height: 6’2” Weight: 110kg Race: Caucasian   Eye Colour: Golden Hair Colour: Dirty/Dark blonde Glasses or contact lenses? No Skin colour: Fair, but with a bit of a golden hint, tans easily Shape of Face: Sharp, strong jawline, high cheekbones, long, straight nose. Overall impression of hard, clean lines, very little softness.   Distinguishing features: Two large, nasty scars down his back, from shoulders to hips. A pair of stylised Angel wings tattooed on the inside of his left wrist and a tattoo of an ornate spearhead on the inside of his right forearm.   How does he/she dress? Jeans, usually fairly loose cut, blue. Black or grey long-sleeved shirts or t-shirts. Black trench coat, military style boots, a scarf if it’s cold. Always muted tones though, never wears colour, always black/white/grey.   Mannerisms: Often runs his fingers through his hair when he’s troubled. Pinches the bridge of his nose when he’s thinking hard or when things are driving him to frustration.   Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) Has a fondness for chocolate, but nothing that really counts as a habit per se.   Health: About as good as can be. More than human. Doesn’t suffer from most human illnesses or diseases, has improved healing from injury and is able to survive with less food, water and rest than the average human.   Hobbies: Currently doesn’t really have hobbies, though he does like to people watch. Favourite Sayings: N/A Speech patterns: Tends towards overly formal language, doesn’t use a lot of contractions, does have a New York accent but it’s towards the more upper class end of the scale, and sometimes veers into a very generic, hard to locate sort of American accent.   Disabilities: N/A   Style (Elegant, shabby etc.): Professionally broody chic. Tends towards the shabby side though.   Greatest flaw: His short temper. He had a propensity to explode over minor issues, has a very short fuse, and often says things in fits of anger that he later regrets.   Best quality: A genuine kindness and love for humanity.   Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes  Educational Background: None Intelligence Level: Technically very high – he’s an Angel and so has divine intelligence, but his lack of experience in the world means most of the time that intelligence is of very little use to him as it hasn’t got anything to back it up.   Any Mental Illnesses? Technically no, though it could be argued he has a bit of PTSD about his Fall.   Learning Experiences: Everything is a learning experience for Ith. He’s been living on earth for just over 6 months and so everything, from learning how to safely cross the road to making toast are learning experiences of him.   Character's short-term goals in life: Work off his debt to Raif and be able to live his life free of debt and restrictions.   Character's long-term goals in life: Get back to Heaven.   How does Character see himself/herself? Ithuriel has a pretty complicated relationship with himself. On the one hand, he’s quite proud. He was an arc, and as such had quite a high opinion of himself. He was very powerful, there were few who could tell him what to do or how to do it. He was convinced of his own righteousness. However, since his Fall, his sense of worth took a bit of a hit. He still sees himself as ‘better’ than most humans, more moral, more ethical, but he also fell, and that took some of the wind out of his sails. He is now conflicted about who he is and what his existence means, and where he stands in the world.   How does Character believe he/she is perceived by others? Ithuriel doesn’t think much of how other people see him, especially at the start of the story. He doesn’t think much about other people’s internal worlds. However, as he develops, he does start to worry that people think of him as a bit stuffy, a bit uncool, and a bit overly righteous.   How self-confident is the character? Initially very, but he lost a lot of faith in himself and his ability to make the right decisions when he Fell.   Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Definitely ruled by emotion – probably one of his greatest flaws is letting his feelings get in the way of making the sensible, logical decision.   What would most embarrass this character? Any reference towards sexuality or sexual activity, especially towards the start of the story.   Emotional Characteristics Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert How does the character deal with anger? Very, very badly. Mostly by letting it explode all over the place. He has a short fuse.   With sadness? He lets himself feel it, but only within himself. He doesn’t tend towards being demonstrative about his emotions.   With conflict? Again, not well. He tends to shout first and think later.   With change? He’s gone through a lot of changes recently and considering the magnitude of them, he coped remarkably well. That said, he did struggle a lot with readjusting to his new role in life.   With loss? By suppressing it until it bursts out of him in explosions of jealousy towards those who have that which he has lost.   What does the character want out of life? At the moment, he’s just trying to do with best with what he has.   What would the character like to change in his/her life? He would go back to Heaven and get his wings back.   What motivates this character? Partially the desire to get back to Heaven, though he rarely admits it to himself. Mostly a deeply in-ground sense of what is right and what is wrong and the desire to correct the wrongs and do the right thing.   What frightens this character? The idea of dying alone, in a strange world, and going to Hell. The thought of becoming corrupted and evil and losing the parts of him he sees as ‘good’.   What makes this character happy? Simple things such as chocolate, watching people who are happy, the feeling that he has made the right decisions, Merry.   Is the character judgmental of others? Oh boy yes. Incredibly judgemental, though often he feels a bit bad about his original impressions once he gets to know people.   Is the character generous or stingy? Generous.   Is the character generally polite or rude? He likes to think he’s polite, but often he can be a bit rude, in part because he doesn’t understand social cues very well and in part because he’s just a bit brusque and too self important to worry about the ‘niceties’.   Spiritual Characteristics Does the character believe in God? God literally created him and he knows Him personally, so yah he does.   What are the character's spiritual beliefs? He doesn’t have beliefs, he has knowledge.   Is religion or spirituality a part of this character's life? Not really, because Ith doesn’t need to ‘believe’ in things. He knows and understands the truth of the world and the Heavens so it’s not a spiritual experience for him, it’s just his reality.   If so, what role does it play? N/A How the Character is Involved in the Story  Character's role in the novel (main character? hero? heroine? Romantic interest? etc.): Hero/Romantic interest   Scene where character first appears:  

Ithuriel shifted his weight, pins and needles tingling down his legs. He sighed, a brief allowance of impatience.  He was crouching uncomfortably on the edge of a low building, his gaze fixed on the dark street below. It was nearing dawn and the streets were empty with the early morning hush. A biting breeze was whistling around the edges of the stout brick buildings, its prying fingers reaching under coats, lifting hats, and chilling blood. He turned the collar of his heavy trench coat up against the cold, but didn’t dare shift his position. In the quiet, even the slightest of sounds would carry. He’d been hunched on the exposed rooftop for hours now, and he was damned if he was going to risk startling his quarry for the sake of a moment’s release.    

Relationships with other characters: 1. Merry -- (Describe relationship with this character and changes to relationship over the course of the novel).

Ithuriel initially sees Merry as a bit of a helpless human in need of rescuing, though it doesn’t take long before he begins to see her as more of an important tool to use against Moloch. He’s bemused by her and the often flippant attitude she takes towards life. She’s the first human he’s had prolonged contact with and she forces him to re-evaluate the way in which he perceives humans and accept them as individuals rather than one sort of mass that he can judge all together. As they get to know each other better, Ithuriel starts to respect Merry’s independent nature and her bravery in the face of a world that’s much bigger than anything she ever knew before. This respect soon turns to friendship before developing into something deeper.  

2. Belial: -- (Describe relationship with this character and changes to relationship over the course of the novel).

Ithuriel’s relationship with Belial is initially antagonistic. Ithuriel fears becoming what he sees in Belial and as a result tries to push Belial to be better to assuage his own fears of losing himself without hope of return. It quickly becomes important to Ithuriel that Belial choose the right side though this is primarily a reflection of his insecurities. Belial becomes a proxy through which he tries to convince himself that he can still be saved. Over time, this attitude shifts towards a genuine desire to see Belial save himself, and an appreciation for who Belial is as a person.   How character is different at the end of the novel from when the novel began: 

Ithuriel’s arc is one of coming to accept his new existence and appreciate the grey areas that make life so interesting. He begins to see the value in people and the ways in which they can be good and worthwhile without having to adhere to a strict sense of morality. By the end, he has come to realise that humanity is worth saving because of the intrinsic value of life, and all the beauty and wonder that humanity has created.  

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

And the Abyss Consumed (Drabble)

“But...must we?  The creature...his demeanor might be unsettling.  We might be causing more harm than good.”

“You must.  It is the only way to save thine home from destruction.  A great curse looms on the horizon.  The flames will fade soon...and tis better to be prepared for calamity, than praying for solace.”

The representatives of the townspeople weren’t sure about this.  Even the  mages weren’t sure about this, either.  Would awakening the man below be their salvation?  They had heard rumors of the cities in Lordran bearing an unshakable curse of undeath.  And a curse that would render anyone under its influence to become mad.  A hollow of one’s self.  The town of Oolacile may not have this dreadful plague, but who’s to say that they weren’t about to or don’t already?  Humans are frail creatures, and they are susceptible to all manner of illnesses.  But this...this seemed like something more.

“If your town does not awaken him, this place will be met with a terrible plague just like the many others I have warned.  I see scholarly wisdom in the townspeople of Oolacile, and I have no doubt that you will do that with which is for the benefit of the people.  But I urge you to make haste.  The longer your kind waits on the gods for salvation, the closer the threat of chaos approaches.”

The primordial serpent may be right.  What could be done?  If they waited, they may be doomed and live in regret for what they didn’t do.  The mages looked at the representatives, as if in cognitive harmony on their situation and the solution involved.  They nodded, and the mages nodded in return.

They would wake the primeval man below.

“We accept, Kaathe.  We shall see it is done immediately.”

They could not tell if the serpent was making a toothy grin or just looking that way on purpose.  But the gentle sway of the large serpent as it blinked in acknowledgement showed that he was pleased.  “Well met, people of Oolacile.  I shall light you the way to his abode.  Awaken him and you will find the respite that you seek.  Fare thee well.”  With that, the serpent descended into the hole from whence he came as an orb of light levitated upward and through the township.

The mages looked at each other and then at the representatives.  “Tis better for the mages to venture into the deep, lest we meet into battle with...unforeseen foes” the head mage spoke.  The representatives nervously agreed as they decided to head back to the township to deliver the news.  The mages continued onward down the sanctuary and to the underground caverns.  While there seemed to be no beasts or enemies of the sort here, it was cold.  Unwelcoming.  And dark.  A darkness of melancholic nostalgia, and of primal, raw nature.

Many of the mages became very wary of this place.  How did they not see this earlier?  How was this not found?  Perhaps this place wasn’t meant to be found?  Maybe this man wanted to be left alone...but, they needed to save Oolacile from the impending doom that lay before them.  And they would do anything in their power to see it averted at any cost.  With grim determination, they followed their dimly lit companion through the treacherous caves of dark, going deeper...and deeper...and deeper...and deeper.

Soon, their journey had come to an end as the companion flew downward past a cliff.  They soon reached it, an uprising or rock that looked down into an unsettling abyss.  Some of them shuddered at the sight and almost repulsed in fear.  Others stared into it, like they were being called to it.  One of the mages shook their head and breathed out.  “We must descend” he declared.  Everyone was shook out of their stupor and agreed reluctantly.  After uttering the incantation for Fall Control, they jumped off the cliff and plummeted downward.

There wasn’t an abyss here, after all.  In fact, they landed on a large plateau of sorts at the bottom of it.  Their companion must have faded from existence, since there was no source of light here upon arrival.  After they had landed, the mages shakily pulled out their catalysts at the ready in case of lurking beasts.  In the center of this plateau. amongst some small stone pillars, was a dark figure on the ground.  One of them gulped, others panting quietly in fear of whatever this...thing might do upon awakening.  As they approached this primeval man, they noticed that he was huddled up into a fetal position.  It was definitely a man, perhaps a little smaller than the average of today.  But he wore something on his head, perhaps a crown.  This man was of royalty?  Did such notions even exist in the nearly forgotten Age of Ancients?  Surely they must have, if the gods attained their Lord Souls in the First Flame and became what they are now.  But...this place was not of light at all.  This was the antithesis of it.  The supreme and indisputable opposite of sunlight.

Darkness reigned here.

This tiny man, this pygmy of sorts, still remained in his eternal slumber despite the mages and their approach to his...openly spaced abode.  They looked at each other in apprehension and nerve wracking fear.  This person seemed too familiar to them, like this was their grandfather of sorts...their ancestor, just lying here in seclusion and away from the rest.  This someone that must have been long lost to history behind the gods...like this was their intention.  Was this definitely the right thing to do?  Awakening him under such pretenses?  Would he even understand them like this?

“It...it must be done...” one of them spoke, some jumping from the sudden statement in the dark cavern.  This place was so eerily quiet, that a pin drop would make their hairs stand on end.  However, this was no time for personal caution.  Oolacile needed to be saved.  Some nodded in understanding, others too scared to move but their eyes agreeing to the sentiment.

How were they to do this, though?  It’s not like they can just gently shove the man awake.  A man this far down in a damp and abyssal cavern must have been sleeping for centuries!  “...perhaps light?” one hazarded to ask.  They looked at him briefly and sighed out quietly as they hesitantly whispered their incantation for Cast Light, the mages and their power soon lightning up the cavern.

The pygmy shuddered a bit in response and seemed to huddle closer into himself, groaning a bit in almost fear and pain.  They looked at each other for a moment before back at the man.  “...s...sir?” one of them asked, not sure how to address this wrinkled, huskily dark pygmy.  He almost hissed a bit in response, muzzling out into a whimper as he cuddles himself.

“We...we need your help.  Our town is nearing its end.  And we require your wisdom...please...” one of them pleaded.  The pygmy did not respond as it groans out from the light.  “Cast it out!” one of them rasped, almost in frustrated fear of the small man lashing out.  They all acquiesced (albeit reluctantly), as the dark returned to the cavern in its wholeness.  The pygmy shudders a bit and breathes out deeply and quietly.

“...sir?” another asked him.

The pygmy suddenly stopped moving.  The air became tense and they could feel a heavy weight on their shoulders, their collective bodies starting to sweat from the nerve wracking darkness surrounding their very essences.

A moment later, they heard a murmur.  The mages looked at each other, their eyes questioning one another as to who said what.  None seemed to relent on the culprit...until they all turned to the primeval man still laying down on his side before them.  The murmur returned, with its same unintelligible tone.  It was indeed the pygmy!

One of them hazarded to move closer, only a small few daring to follow him.  “What is he saying?” one of the cautious mages asked.

“I-I don’t know...I can’t make it out.”

“.........pe......penda...” he murmured out a little more loudly, almost in a pained groan.

“S-Sir...we can’t hear you...” one dared to state.

“Pen...pendant...” he groaned out, a little louder.

“A...pendant?” one of them asked, the others looking at each other in confusion.  What did the pendant have anything to do with their situation?  Did he even hear them?  Perhaps this man had gone off the deep end...and like a nurse would care to their aging senior, they decided to relent to his obsession.

“What pendant?” one of them asked him a little more clearly, but still on edge.

The pygmy only answered in his same way.  “Pendant...pendant...pendant...” he muttered and groaned out quietly.

Suddenly, he places a hand down on the ground, his elbow aimed skyward as his palm landed on the rocky surface.  The mages froze.  “...my...pendant...” he grunted out, almost in an obsessive manner.  The mages were shaking in their boots by now.

“My...pendant...my...pendant...my pendant...my pendant...my pendant...my pendant....my pendant...” he started to grunt out as he started to slowly get up on his feet, the air becoming even heavier and more menacing.

“S-Sir...we can find your pendant!  W-We can help you find it!!!” one of them stuttered out, their eyes starting to form tears of utter distress.  The others were too scared to speak as they saw the man swaying slightly, like he hasn’t stood for centuries.

“My pendant, my pendant, my pendant!” he started to exclaim loudly.  The darkness around the plateau started to become ethereal, the air becoming a harsh and humid.  The emptiness around the plateau started to form walls of inescapable darkness.  The mages couldn’t even stand on their feet, nearly stumbling to the ground at the sheer magnitude of this...thing!

His crown started to grow into giant and irregularly out of control antlers with uncountable red eyes that seared through the darkness, the crown covering the top half of his face as he turns towards them, the darkness around him starting to become scorching hot.  He growled at them, the mages staring in terror at this monster.

“MY PENDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANT!!!”

The walls shook and darkness swelled and exploded around the plateau as the man suddenly grew to an unimaginable height, the size of a giant!  From the dark, his right hand sparked a large and elderly catalyst.  His left hand grew giant and unimaginably large, bigger than his own body!  It seemed to be wrapped and coiled in tethers or tendrils of dark, his palm and fingers coated in ghastly and wretched eyes.  His body grew fur like a wild beast and a large tail exploding from behind him, his feet turning into large clawed talons.  Leaning on his oversized left arm, he looks at them with a sneer and growls before letting out a loud roar.

The mages could barely get up as the primeval man grabs one of them and pulls it up to his face, roaring before crushing him instantly like a twig, slamming him down on the ground and then dragging him across it before tossing him into the walls of dark, disappearing into nothing.  Some of them stood up and were about to cast their sorceries until the beast of a man extends his left arm into an alarming length and makes a long swipe at the ground.  Some managed to dodge, but some weren’t so lucky as they flew out into the nothingess that awaited them.

The rest decided to stand up and fight this abyssal monster, arming themselves with magic of the highest caliber and casting it.  The ancient man was quick as with a wave of his staff, an onslaught of dark missiles pierced through their Soul Spears and homed in on them as they were felled instantly and collapsed.

The last mage decided to run, about to head into the wall of darkness and escape from this horror.  Death was the only escape now.  Just as he was about to jump, he heard fast and hard rumbling from behind him as he turns and sees the abyssal beast limping over to him like a predator sighting in on his prey.  The man screamed in terror as he tries to jump out, only for the shadowy left arm of the monster to catch him and pull him up to his face.  The man’s eyes were filled with sheer terror and utter dread as he stared into the empty and many red hot eyes of the wrathful beast.  “P-Please...please...” he pleaded, crying out as tears welled over his cheeks.

The monster sneers before slamming down on the ground like a child with a toy, the man’s back snapping instantly.  But the monster wasn’t done.  He starts to slam his fist and staff down on the helpless corpse over and over in a unbridled and animalistic rage before making a final dual fisted slam down onto it.

He then roars out a menacing and echoing howl in the dark cavern as the souls of the lost and dead turned into wisps and ghosts of Humanity.  These Humanity Phantoms simply whisked into existence as their empty white eyes pierced into the abyss, a giant ridge being torn open through Oolacile’s forest with pure dark starting to flow out and onto the land.  And this was just a taste of this man’s ire.

The ornery wrath of the abyssal father, Manus, had been incited.

[diaryofaninsanewriter]

If you are totally motivated to walk the path of health transformation but are still confused about weight loss diet vs healthy eating habits this post is for you.

Scroll ahead to discover what kind of diet plan worked for me. 

Ever since I lost 25 kgs in 24 months and have turned to a sports person, I am regularly asked about the secret to my weight loss.

In this post, I will be speaking about the facts behind weight-loss diets.

If you are like me, you would have definitely hit search engines like our most-trusted Google to look for the best weight loss diet plans. Prior to my health transformation journey, God knows how many hours I have spent scrolling to pages and videos containing loads of information on weight loss diets and their effectiveness.

If you enter the phrase: best weight loss diet plan in Google. About 37, 20, 00,000 results are indexed. (three hundred and seventy-two million pages)

Can you imagine the number of people who have been creating content around this topic? It leads me to think: if diet plans weren’t effective then why would there be so much content around it?

At the centre of the Google Search first page, you will see something like this:

So people don’t only search for: best weight loss diet plan they also ask several related questions to the topic. Each of it has a detailed answer supporting it through a health and fitness website. There are several sponsored ads that the user also scrolls through on this page.

At the bottom of the Google Search first page, you will see something like this:

So, what are the facts behind weight-loss diets?

Which is the best diet plan that really works?

Before I started my health transformation journey, I had tried almost every diet that I could get my hands on. Unfortunately, none of them worked for me. I ended up feeling deprived, fatigued and frustrated. I usually shifted to my ‘normal’ unhealthy lifestyle and binged on whatever came my way.

I couldn’t stick to a diet plan – it always failed for me.

I just couldn’t cope due to my hectic schedule. I am a mother of two beautiful and healthy kids. I started looking at them. I was doing something right in their diet.

I had a EUREKA moment! I decided to eat everything that is healthy from there on! 

Facts about weight loss diets

Nursing yourself back to health isn’t easy. Age, activity, mental state, level of activity, wear and tear of the body, lifestyle diseases etc – all need to be taken into consideration before you embark on this journey.

Before you implement any of the tips in this blog post, it is advisable to consult a qualified health expert or medical professional. 

Diet May Be More Important Than Exercise

Fruits and Vegetables Are Crucial

Cutting Back On Processed Sugar Works

Not All Carbs Are Bad

Drink Water

You cannot lose 10 kgs in a month

Fasting & Skipping meals never help

Carbohydrates never make you gain weight

What worked for me?

Well, before you jump to the list, you need to understand that these diet modifications were made over a long period of time and very gradually.

Being a working mother of two, I needed to find a diet that would help me to nurse my health back to optimal condition. I needed to be less tired, more energetic and lose all the excess fat below my skin and around my organs.

I had a strict exercise routine that was a combination of aerobics, strength training, yoga. I used to intersperse it with walking, running and cycling. On average, I started with 30 min of physical activity and gradually moved up to 2 hours of activity.

In short, I needed a diet that would complement my physical activity.

The diet modifications that I made are as below and were done step-by-step. As and when I required to take them on. I had no dietician or nutritionist to guide me – simply because I found them very expensive. I relied on a few friends who are doctors and fitness freaks to help me with the modifications. This worked for me, but whether it will work for you, is something that you need to explore.

I truly believe that the presence of a nutritionist or dietician would have accelerated my health transformation journey but I couldn’t afford one. So, I course-corrected in several places and learned as I went along. It taught me to listen to my body and its response to different kind of foods. 

Diet modifications that helped me:

Reducing and spacing out portions

Eating smaller meals through the day

Counting calories and food portions

Maintaining a food diary

Cutting out processed foods completely

Saying NO to fried foods

Throwing out oil and using homemade ghee instead

No sugar – substituted sugar for jaggery

No salt – used sendha namak/lemons for salt

Substitute rice for steel-cut oats, quinoa, rolled oats, bajra, makkai

Watching for hidden sugar and salt

Cutting out milk completely: substitute with curds or buttermilk

Consuming At least one portion of fruits a day

Do you have any queries regarding this post or health transformation in general? Are you struggling towards maintaining a healthy lifestyle? 

Do write to me, I would love to respond to your queries. 

Penned by:

Mayura Amarkant

Disclaimer:

Dear Reader: You must know that I am not a healthcare expert and nor am I posing to be one through this series. I am sharing my personal experiences and journey. I urge you to speak to your healthcare professional before trying anything in this series.

  #40NotOut | Facts about weight loss diets. What worked for me?|#BlogchatterA2Z #MondayMotivation #MondayMorning #MondayThoughts If you are totally motivated to walk the path of health transformation but are still confused about weight loss diet vs healthy eating habits this post is for you.

[katastrophizing]

So, I posted this on Reddit, but I figured I would post here as well!

Bit of a long post, but I want to share some detail about my weight loss/fitness journey...

I'm a 25-year-old female that, through CICO (Calories In, Calories Out), has been able to drop from my highest weight of 200 lbs (January 2016) to a healthy, fit 125 lbs (though in the pic I've posted is when I was probably closer to ~187 lbs). Also, I'm about 5'7", for reference. I actually lost the first 65 lbs in about seven or eight months (I know that's very quick, but I was very determined!) with drastic lifestyle changes. I was very depressed at close to my highest weight. I've been diagnosed with manic depression and generalized anxiety for about nine years now, but it got especially bad around December 2015/January 2016 when I was the heaviest and most physically unhealthy I had ever been. I was barely motivated to get out of bed some days, I had no job, hardly any friends, and I was a serious emotional overeater with major self-esteem and confidence issues. But one morning, by the grace of God maybe, IDK I really can't even explain what happened (maybe it's because the first number on the scale was, for the first time, a 2 and not a 1), after a long crying/self-pity session, something just kinda stirred within me. Like an epiphany of some sort. At that moment, I decided I was going to stop making excuses and acting like a victim to my misery and obesity, that enough was enough. I was sick and tired of being unhealthy, overweight, and miserable. I wanted to gain control of my life. I had tried numerous attempts at weight loss before, but never could stick with any kind of routine or diet for longer than about two weeks. But this time it was gonna be different, I decided. So, I put on a pair of sweatpants and some old running shoes I had lying around and I left my house with my hardly-used Fitbit watch (that I had received as a Christmas gift from my mom about a month earlier), and I just. started. walking... I wasn't sure where I was gonna walk to or for how long, but I wanted to do ANYTHING other than just sit at home and be miserable. So, I put in my earbuds, turned on some upbeat music, and just kept walking. I walked for about two hours around my neighborhood and when I got back to my place, I realized that I had walked five miles! And it felt good... It was just one walk (granted, a really long one), but I decided I was gonna make it a habit. I started going on daily five-mile walks that I had mapped out around my neighborhood, and actually usually twice in a day (one walk in early morning and one in late afternoon), since I was unemployed/not in school and had extra time on my hands. My feet/legs were definitely hurting and sore at first, but gel inserts for my shoes really helped a lot. This long-distance walking was nearly every day for about four or five months, a time period in which I dropped about 40-45 lbs. The first 15 or 20 being in the first month alone. As the weight dropped and I was eating healthier/becoming a lot more active, my overall confidence was increasing, my sleep, "brain fog", and feelings of "meh" (as I call it) were all improving/diminishing, and my energy levels were higher than they had been in a very long time. I was even starting to get some compliments from family and people around me who noticed my weight loss and my overall change in mood/attitude, which felt pretty good honestly.

My CICO was monitored pretty thoroughly through consistent food logging on the app, "My Fitness Pal", and activity monitoring on my Fitbit HR watch. Diet, in summary, was mainly cutting out soda (for good! To this day, I still don't drink soda.) and fast food (though I admit I will now occasionally have fast food as a "cheat meal"), drinking lots of water, and I greatly decreased my intake of refined carbs/sugars. I replaced a lot of these foods that I was used to eating with more protein-rich foods/fruits &veggies/healthy fats & carbs. Less crap, basically. It was very difficult at first because I loved things like Kraft mac and cheese and Dr. Pepper. I also had a horrible habit of overeating in general and eating out of boredom, rather than when feeling truly hungry. However, I was determined to change. As I practiced more self-discipline and started noticing results in how I looked/felt, the cravings lessened and became easier to combat. I realized I could eat healthier, fewer calories and still feel satiated.

And though I know it's not usually advised to go higher than a 1,000 calorie deficit a day without consulting a medical professional first, my daily step count was averaging about 27,000 (which, for my weight then, was a LOT of burned calories) and my overall caloric deficit was usually anywhere between 700 and 1,500 (but I was careful to not ever eat below 1200 calories for the day and generally my consumption was between 1500 and 2000). I was losing a steady 2-3 lbs a week and feeling pretty awesome as I noticed results not only in the mirror, but with how I carried myself and my overall attitude.

I hit a relatively short three-week plateau in May (I think?) which was frustrating at first, but caused me to switch up my fitness routine a bit. I started mixing in some higher-intensity cardio such as jogging (could barely jog a half mile at first, but now I go anywhere between 2-6 miles) and hiking local trails. I also incorporated some at-home strength training using 5 or 8 lb dumbbells three times a week to help with overall body composition and fat loss. By early July, I had lost about 55 lbs , was at what's considered a healthy and no longer overweight BMI, and finally felt confident enough to go out and look for a job again. I landed a decent job after my first interview, something I would have not even thought possible 6 or 7 months earlier.

I hit my first major weight loss goal of 65 lbs, weighing 135 lbs, in late August, I believe? (As you can see, I can't quite remember the exact timeline right now lol). I maintained this weight for about six months, but still felt like I could maybe "cut" and get some more muscle definition. So, just these last six weeks, I've lost ten more pounds and have attained a more ~toned~ look through yoga, running, heavier weights at the gym, and hardly any going out/drinking [Though I know it's not exactly beneficial for weight loss, I still have drunk some alcohol throughout this journey. It used to be mainly very sugary drinks (i.e. whiskey/coke) when I was fat, but I switched to a not as bad vodka/club soda while I was losing weight.] I don't think I want/need to lose any more weight at this point, I might try to add some muscle/weight even, but I can't express enough how much this experience has changed my life in SO many aspects, not even just physical health and appearance [though that's definitely a huge (no pun intended) plus!]. Like I mentioned, I have more confidence overall, more emotional stability, my bipolar/depression and anxiety symptoms have been significantly alleviated, and I feel like a productive member of society again (I'm also attending college again and planning for a new career path). Of course I still have my ups, downs, issues, and insecurities (who doesn't?), but I've definitely come a long way and am pretty proud of that. I feel like a whole new person. And this newfound wellness obviously isn't JUST because the number on the scale has changed, but it's a result of the diet and lifestyle changes I incorporated to lose the weight in the first place.

Though I wouldn't call what I did disordered or dangerous, I realize that what worked for me may not be the healthiest or most realistic options for everyone. I lost a pretty significant amount of weight in a relatively short amount of time. I would definitely advise consulting a doctor or medical professional before trying anything that might be considered too extreme or drastic! The focus should not be on how fast you lose the weight though, but rather making permanent (yet sustainable), healthy lifestyle changes that take you in the right direction. Additional advice I would offer is to remember to not compare your progress to anyone else's or let a "setback" keep you feeling defeated and/or prevent you from moving forward. As long as you keep at it and don't give up, then you're on the right track and results will come! :) Any questions, feel free to ask!