#i tried a new sharpening how do we feel about it

[buchanans]

CHRIS EVANS ✧ STEVE ROGERS CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER, 2014 dir. The Russo Brothers

[betterbooktitles]

"I’m certain I’m not the only millennial who feels we as a nation have taken a dizzying turn when it comes to drugs. I remember a uniformed police officer showing up once a week in 5th Grade (a year before Sex Ed) to explain how to avoid buying and taking drugs. Luckily, I already knew the dangers of the drug trade because I had seen The Usual Suspects. I knew cocaine was a bad thing to buy, sell, or steal, especially from a drug kingpin. The D.A.R.E. program, however, let me know how important it was to say no to anything fun, including alcohol. At least until I understood a little algebra first. We did role-playing exercises where we walked one by one toward the portly police officer and he casually asked if we wanted to hit a mimed joint with him. All we had to do was say “no” and walk to the other side of the room, defying the only rule I knew about improv. We wrote essays about how important it was to preserve our pristine bodies and minds, obviously unsullied since we had yet to take the class teaching us how puberty was going to defile them both. I’m still mad that my friend Nicole’s essay beat mine in a contest, and she got to read hers in front of the whole school all because she had the benefit of an older brother who took too much acid and sat in her room all night talking about why the existence of light proved God was real. My essay about a time I saw my friend’s dad drink a beer and then drive his truck somewhere was also good! We signed pledges to enter the new millennium drug-free. We took the red pencils that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Drugs” and sharpened all of them down to say “Let Friends Do Drugs,” “Friends Do Drugs,” “Do Drugs,” and simply “Drugs.” Despite that little rebellious act, my friends and I spent a solid six months swearing we’d never put any harmful substance into our bodies besides every form of candy available.

Imagine how I feel now as a D.A.R.E. graduate becoming my dad’s drug dealer. It’s less thrilling than I thought it would be. Between my father’s warning not to hang around one specific neighborhood in Cleveland as a kid and nearly every TV show about drugs, I thought I’d always be buying marijuana from an intimidating dude who definitely had a gun and would use it immediately if he thought I was wearing a wire. Instead, I now buy marijuana from a well-lit storefront that looks like the Apple Store. I’ve even gone to a place where a guy with an iPad explained what each available strain would do to me. I buy what sounds good with all the confidence of a man pointing at items on a menu written in a language he can’t read. I put it all in a cardboard box. I place a book on top. I mail the box to my dad from my local post office. I tell myself the book is to hide the contraband crossing state lines, but in truth, the book is what clears my conscience. I want to send my dad something edifying while also sending him the drug that all of America worried would make me unable to read if I tried it once. The unrequested book is a red herring to distract from the vice, like when you were young and didn’t want to buy condoms outright at the store so you cushioned them between a pack of peanut M&Ms and a magazine. Hmm, what else did I need, — right, while I’m here — might as well pick up a few condoms.

Right as marijuana becomes legal in most states, I’m about done with the drug. I’ve had three good times on edibles, and one of them was when I felt nothing and fell asleep at 9:30 PM. I’m flabbergasted that my dad likes edibles. He seems to be a man free of anxiety. Case in point, I once brought him some THC lozenges to our summer holiday in Chautauqua, and around dinner time I told him “You might want to only take half of what I gave you” to which he replied, “I took it hours ago.” He was stoned and no one noticed.

While I’m stuck in my head, stoned or sober, wondering why I didn’t take some acting gig 15 years ago, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money, worrying I’m doing everything wrong including in this moment as I write this sentence, my dad is enjoying himself.

Judith Grisel, the author of Never Enough: The Neuroscience And Experience of Addiction, describes using marijuana as throwing “a bucket of red paint” on your brain. She was approaching the stimulant clinically in terms of how it differed from the laser focus of other drugs (THC reacts with many receptors in the brain, cocaine focuses on one), but now every time I smoke, I think of the red paint metaphor. While other people seem able to crank an entire joint and do insanely complicated stuff like function at their jobs, I am reduced to a gelatinous blob, on top of which my eyes and brain are navigating a dream state that, like many dreams, isn’t all that interesting the next day. Mostly, I get high and can’t decide what I want to watch on TV or what video game I want to play, I realize how hungry I am, and then I fall asleep with cereal still stuck to my teeth. Pot, for me, is like the squid ink hitting the screen in Mario Kart: I can still see where I’m going, but everything gets a little harder to do, and the panicked half-blindness makes everything slightly more chaotically fun."

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Other articles include:

An essay on Claire Dederer's book Monsters and movies made by monsters.

Writing inside a Toyota Service Center.

Writing mistresses.

[musingmeaninglessly]

In Deep ; Neteyam x Fem!Human! Reader

Summary: When Tuk gets stuck underwater, there's only one person who can save her...

Lil bit angsty, lil bit fluffy. If you're sensitive to matters related to drowning, I suggest you skip this story.

If not, then enjoy! 💙

"Aaaand, I'm officially done."

Hands burning, you release the final inky braid of your boyfriend's that you've been working on.

Leaning his head back against your lap from his seat on the floor, Neteyam's glimmering eyes meet yours as he beams.

"Thank you, yawntutsyìp, what would I do without you?"

You don't get a chance to answer as he gently pulls your face down to meet his, the glass of your exopack chilly against his forehead. When he finally releases you, he's smiling wider than ever, but the same can't be said for the other figure present.

Sharpening her spear, Neytiri's glare never leaves you. Throughout the six month's worth of courting her son, you've never once been able to win her approval. Seeing her pride and joy be practically polluted by a damned tawtute was not her vision for the eldest Sully child.

And you felt that. Even without the prejudices against your species, what could you possibly offer her family? You lack the basic genetics that make the Na'vi so wondrous, not to mention the survival skills and intelligence. No matter how much Neteyam tells you otherwise, you feel inferior. And Neytiri's hostility doesn't help.

Yet in spite of it al, Neteyam had been defiant of his mother for the first time in his life. And it was all in pursuit of you; his star girl, his little love, his mate.

He catches your worrisome look and follows your eyes over to his mother's. With a sigh, he frowns at her silently, but her eyes remain the same, burning more ferociously than the campfire between you. No one says a thing; well, no one actually gets the chance.

"Help! HELP! It's Tuk!!"

The sound of Kiri's voice is the only thing that snaps Neytiri's attention away from you and her son. The teenage girl sprints over to where you all rise from your seats in a panic. She's gasping for breath and drenched from the ocean's waters.

Neteyam takes a step towards his sister, flashing you a worried, yet warm, look before he does so. Ever the level-headed communicator, he puts a hand on her shoulder, "Kiri, slow down. What's happened?"

"We- me, Lo'ak and Tuk- were free diving, and she spotted that new species of coral- you know, the one Norm told us about?"

Your eyes widened at that- you knew exactly which species she was talking about. A mysterious unnamed specimen with the ability to interact with the energy around it, not dissimilar to the Venus Flytrap plants you'd read about on Earth. Norm had told you all about this new discovery made by one of the botanists, detailing it's features and abilities. It was honestly quite fascinating; powerful, alive, dangerous.

"This new species, yes, I remember." Neteyam's green eyes transform with an amber hue just as Neytiri begins bombarding Kiri with a million questions.

"Well, we went to get a better look at it, and I told Tuk not to touch, but she didn't listen!" Kiri begins to cry, her face wracked with guilt. By this point, several overhearing Metkayina have joined the scene, "It's got her!"

"I can't reach her...the gap in the coral is too small..." Lo'ak suddenly appears on land, visibly exhausted.

"Can't we cut her free?" Neteyam sensibly suggests, but his siblings shake their heads.

"We tried, but whenever you cut a piece, even more grows!" Kiri wailed, prompting Lo'ak to put an arm around her. You make a mental note to suggest the name 'Hydra' to Norm once this is all over. "There's a gap in the coral-"

"-I will go!" Neytiri booms, ridding herself of her bow and spear. Lo'ak, however, stops her in her tracks.

"It's no use, mother! The gap is way too small, I couldn't fit through it..."

You squeeze Neteyam's hand sympathetically, and when his amber eyes meet yours, you get an idea. Amidst all the commotion, the panicked voices and desperate dives into the water, it all becomes crystal clear to you.

"I'll get her out."

Everyone's attention snaps over to you in an instant, not quite believing what you've just said.

"My love, it's far too dangerous! What if the water leaks into your mask?" Neteyam kneels down in front of you, sternness lacing his features. You simply shake your head.

"I'm the only one who can reach her and fit through the gap, I must go."

Neteyam exchanges a worried glance with his siblings, ignoring his mother's scornful expression. Lo'ak and Kiri nod to him, and he knows what he has to do.

"Then I will go with you."

"What's going on?"

Jake suddenly appears with Tonowari, presumably returning from some sort of meeting.

"No time to explain, Dad. Please could you fetch Y/N's spare mask?" Neteyam briefly requests, and is met with a nod of his father's head.

Meanwhile, you hurriedly rid yourself of your blouse. It's a flowing, loose fabric- certainly not appropriate for swimming. With no other choice, you're left in your bra before taking Neteyam's hand and diving into the water.

Lo'ak and Kiri promptly follow, helping you get down to the specific spot. Several other Metkayina follow you in, unable to help, but worried for the youngest Sully.

When you see Tuk, you have to do your best not to panic. She's more-or-less unconscious, limbs entangled in the coral's moving tendrils. Neteyam's grip on your hand tightens, but you place yours on his chest, wordlessly reassuring him, and he lets you go.

Lo'ak helps you over to the small gap in the coral. It's no wonder the siblings struggled, the opening is barely wide enough for a human to fit through. Yet, somehow you do, mindful of the fact that one wrong move would put you in the exact same situation as Tuk. With that in mind, you carefully make your way to her body after taking Lo'ak's knife from him.

There's really no other choice but to cut Tuk free, but you have to make quick work of it. Thankfully, your nimble fingers are up to the task as the Sully siblings watch on desperately.

But, amidst your hard work, you fail to notice that the suction lining of your exopack had come slightly free along your jaw, letting in a small trickle of water and, in turn, a whisper of oxygen out.

Neteyam goes to lunge towards you, noticing a small amount of water build up in your mask. But Lo'ak holds him back, signing that you're fine.

That's what you try to tell yourself as you hold your mask to your face tightly, cutting away at the last couple of coral tendrils. When you give Kiri the signal, she slashes an opening above you, and you haul Tuk's body out of the coral entrapment before the tendrils can grow back.

The rest of it becomes a blur. The Sully siblings are at your side in an instant, hauling you and Tuk up the surface. Your mask continues to fill with water and once it floods above your nose, you hold your breath. But, by some miracle, your head soon breaks through the water's edge above you.

Kiri and Lo'ak take Tuk from you while Neteyam wraps his arms firmly around your waist. "It's going to be alright, my love, we're almost there..."

He continues to murmur to you comfortingly through his own panic, finally reaching Jake and grabbing for the spare mask. "I'm going to take this off, alright?"

You have no time to acknowledge his words before your mask is swiftly swept off of your face and the new, dry, undamaged replacement is secured against your skin. You gasp in jagged breaths, only now processing it all as Neteyam bundles you against him.

"My brave, brave girl..." he whispers into your hair, cupping the back of your head as you both float in the water. For a moment, the both of you seem to forget about Tuk, and it's only when you hear her coughing back on the shore that you remember.

"Oh, thank Ewya!" Neytiri gasps, sobbing hysterically as she reaches to comfort her youngest daughter. "Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me child?!"

Tuk nods with a cry, before rushing over to you. "Y/N, you saved me! Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

The rest of the family smile at the two of you, Jake and Lo'ak thanking you profusely while Kiri joins yours and Tuk's group hug.

"Hey, hey, careful. She needs to breathe..." Neteyam protectively instructs, gently pulling his sisters off of you. You smile at them and mouth a silent 'thank you' to your boyfriend, before turning to hug him as he kneels to your height.

"My love," Neteyam's deep voice draws a soft smile from you as he tenderly cups your cheek, "you were so brave."

You can't help blushing at his praise, but grasp at his hand that's cupping your exopack-covered cheek and pull him closer. "You would've done the same if you could have, ma 'Teyam..."

The longer you hold him, the more pronounced the little sniffles heard from him become. Pulling back, you eye him worriedly, 'What is it, 'Teyam? Are you alright?"

Coaxing his eyes open by running the pads of your fingers beneath them, his tearful irises meet yours. "I could've lost you, little one..."

"But you didn't," you gently remind him, holding his hand over your heart, "I'm here, and I love you. Okay?"

Neteyam nods forcefully, almost as if an absence of the action would make you disappear. Yet, his eyes never leave yours. Not even for a moment.

"I love you...so deeply...even deeper than the waters you just braved for my sister..."

Now it's your eyes that overflow with salty tears and you throw your arms around Neteyam's broad shoulders. "I love you, 'Teyam...Nga yawne lu oer..."

"Y/N,"

The sound of your name breaks up the tender moment prematurely, and you spring away from Neteyam. In truth, you'd forgot that his family, and several people from the Metkayina tribe, were watching.

It had been Neytiri's voice that cut through the sweet moment like a knife through butter. You gulp, craning your neck to face the Sully matriarch, who's shrugging off her mate's hand from her shoulder.

You're surely for it now.

But to your pleasant surprise, she drops to her knees and hangs her head in..shame? Eyes wide, you look at her children and Jake, wondering what on Pandora you're supposed to do now. But they all smile softly.

"Forgive me. I've underestimated you, thought you like them. But you saved my child at your own risk. I was wrong."

You can tell that Neytiri's English isn't quite advanced enough to fully communicate her thanks. But it's there in her eyes.

"Please, forgive me..."

With a gentle nod of your head, you smile. You never expected Neytiri to see you as anything other than a Sky Person, but you really didn't expect her to grab at you and pull you into a hug.

Your arms raise to your side in surprise, and the look on your face is clearly comical enough to make Lo'ak burst out laughing- until Jake smacks him up the side of his head. Tentatively, you return Neytiri's hug. "I forgive you..."

"You are good for my son," Neytiri pulls back to look at you with a warmth you've never seen before, "thank you."

"Okay, Mother, let little Y/N breathe." Neteyam chuckles, gently pulling you back towards him. Neytiri shakes her head at her son's overprotectiveness, but fondly places her hand atop your head for a short moment before returning to fuss over Tuk.

You turn back to Neteyam and a soft hum leaves his lips and his eyes trail over your face, before he notices some Metkayina boys gawking at you. Only then do the both of you realise that you're stood in your bra and a pair of shorts.

"W-we, uh, let's get you back to the lab, get you some more clothes." Neteyam suggests, using his towering advantage to shield your body from prying eyes as his own glare at the intruders.

"Good idea," you giggle, desperate to be a little more concealed now that you're aware of your state, "I could do with a nap."

"I'm not surprised," Neteyam's face softens and he tilts his head, "may I join you?"

[fuctacles]

Tying the knots

For @subeddieweek Day 6 | M | 2162 | established relationship, bondage, non sexual intimacy, subspace, switching, fluff, they are in love | divider by @saradika-graphics | Ao3

Steve tries to look at the screen Eddie has shoved in his face. Literally. He sighs, pushes his hand away, and takes the phone to scroll through the pictures himself. It's a week's worth of photos Eddie's been saving, scavenging the web to find those he thought might convince Steve to try the new thing.

Steve looks through the photos of models, their chests, arms and thighs wrapped in rope. He imagines similar stuff in their bedroom, and mulls over how to word his opinion. Wonders, with a pang of fear, if Eddie would want to try this with someone else instead, if Steve says 'no'.

He sighs.

"You know I don't feel comfortable with this," he says finally, knowing honesty is the best way to go at the end of the day. "I trust you completely, but I wouldn't even let Robin tie me up. Hell, I almost got a panic attack just getting an x-ray the other day."

Eddie lays his hand on top of his, where he holds the now locked phone.

"Darling, I'd never do that to you," he assures. "I meant myself."

Steve frowns, confused.

"What?"

Eddie squeezes his hand.

"I want you to tie me up."

Steve's mind blanks. This was flipping the script on their bedroom activities completely. He's at a loss of words yet again. He opens his mouth and frowns.

"But you don't like bottoming." They tried it, of course, but figured out fast the dynamic that worked for them best.

At his astute observation, Eddie's soft expression sharpens into a dark smirk.

"Who said anything about bottoming? Silly boy, you think I'll let you? With that tiny dick of yours?"

Steve's breath hitches.

"No, I want you to tie me up and ride me like a toy." His tone loses momentum, and turns softer and hesitant. Thinking back, Steve's been seeing this side of him more often lately. Lining in time with his confession that he 'wanted to try something new.'

Steve looks at his boyfriend. Truly looks at him, at the reddened cheeks, the dark pupils, the nervous picking on his nail polish.

"It's not about the bondage, is it?" he asks. "You want to try subbing."

Eddie nods in affirmation.

"Holy shit," Steve breathes out, the realization squeezing his throat.

"I know it's a big change," Eddie says. "But just think about it. We don't have to ever come back to this if you decide you're not interested, but the offer will be open if you ever want to try."

They maintain eye contact for a long while. The time stretches but all they see is trust and love, so Steve brings their joined hands to his lips to presses a kiss against Eddie's knuckles. 

"I'll think about it," he promises.

"That's all I ask."

Two weeks pass without mention of that conversation, which Eddie assumes is a 'no' from Steve. He's okay with that. The whole allure was to do it with him, and if he's not comfortable with it, then neither is Eddie.

The setting is the same, as every weekend - an afternoon to unwind with take-out and mindless TV watching after cleaning up their tiny apartment. This time, it's Steve who shoves his phone towards him.

"Which color do you like?"

"Huh?" It takes his eyes a moment to focus on the screen, and he takes a surprised breath when he recognizes what he's looking at. 

Colorful bundles of shibari ropes.

"Classic black?" Steve muses, like it's not a big deal to drop his answer in such a way, out of the blue. "They have this dark red that would look great on your skin, I think. Or we could go with the classic twine color," he wonders out loud, scrolling with his thumb with the phone angled so both of them could see. Not that Eddie cares much for what's on the screen. He has more important things right in front of his eyes.

"I love you so much," he whispers, taking Steve by surprise. He looks up into his boyfriend's huge eyes.

"I love you too," he says back, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. "But please focus, they have a sale that ends at midnight."

They go with the twine after all. Eddie said it would make fantasy kidnapping roleplay more authentic. Steve lovingly smacked him about it.

He can tell Steve is nervous. Eddie's sitting there, cool as a cucumber in his favorite house loungewear (linen pants and an old Metallica shirt), while Steve keeps getting up and fidgeting. He gets up to get scissors, then to get water, and then decides some snacks are in order. Eddie chews on a cashew, observing him. 

"You don't have to do this," he reiterates for the umpteenth time. "I can tie my legs myself or something. A simple harness should be doable too..."

"No!" Steve protests immediately. "You trusted me and I'm doing this, I'm just...." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just worried something will go wrong."

Eddie sighs. 

"Baby," he says gently, crawling forward on the bed. "That's what scissors and safewords are for. We'll be fine." He gently touches his hand where he's digging his fingers into the duvet. "And if we don't like it, I'll just use the rope for the next LARP. It's not a big deal," he reminds him, squeezing his hand. "Just something new we're trying out. No pressure, no expectations. It either works out or it doesn't. Like a new recipe. Alright?"

Steve moves his hand from underneath his to lace their fingers together.

"Alright. Just let me watch the tutorial one more time."

Eddie rolls his eyes lovingly.

"Of course, darling."

He leans on his shoulder and together they watch a professional rigger demonstrate the knots on a consenting mannequin. Steve is holding the rope in his hands, mirroring the movements shown in the video. Halfway through though, he sighs and pauses it. 

"You're distracting me," he says, turning to the left, where Eddie's head is.

"I'm literally just sitting here!" Eddie protests, moving away from his shoulder.

"Yes, and it's very distracting!" He sighs again. "Let's just do this."

"Okay," Eddie agrees quickly, unable to contain his excitement. He scrambles to the center of the mattress. "This alright?" he asks. Steve's eyes roam down his form.

"I guess so."

With this said, he walks on his knees up to his boyfriend and throws the rope over his neck. He uses it to pull him forward, making Eddie giggle in surprise. He presses a kiss to his smiling lips. 

"What's your safeword?"

"Demogorgon" Eddie answers in a heartbeat. 

They are just practicing today but that doesn't mean Steve would take it any less seriously than an actual scene. Even with a third guy present, speaking from a YouTube tutorial. Steve checks with it every couple of knots to make sure he's doing them right. Other than that, and the soft ambient music he had put on, the room is quiet. Just their breathing, the slide of the rope, and a quiet exchange of 'Alright? - Yes.' now and then. 

He gets lost in the methodical movements, in making the ties just right, and it takes him a moment to realize it's become too quiet.

"Eddie?" He looks up from his own hands to his boyfriend and finds his blown-out eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?"

"Golden," he slurs back, giving him a wobbly smile.

Steve sits up with a worried frown.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks.

"Don't you dare," Eddie tries to growl, but it comes out slurred and whiny. He sighs, letting whatever he's feeling right now take over. "Feels good. Like a hug. I trust you, Stevie," he says, closing his eyes to drift away into bliss.

Steve feels his chest swell close to bursting. He wonders if Eddie feels the same when he hands himself over to him.

He leans down to press a kiss to his sternum, near the center of the rope harness.

"I love you."

Eddie makes a sound deep in his throat that is probably meant to mean 'I love you too'.

Steve moves to kiss his temple next.

"I'm almost done, just finishing up," he informs Eddie before going back to the rope. This time he focuses less on the task itself, and more on the body under his hands. On Eddie's steady breath, even and shallow like he's falling asleep. On the calm beat of his heart. He lets his fingers linger when checking the give of the rope, when threading and looping it, and turns it into a caress of his lover's body.

Once he's done, he trails his hands along the rope, from his shoulders, through his hips, to his thighs.

"All wrapped up, baby," he announces, and Eddie's eyelashes flutter open. 

He's looking at Steve, but like he's seeing him through a window from another dimension. With a thrill, Steve realizes he's put his boyfriend in subspace. Feeling the heavy weight of responsibility, he reaches out to cup his cheek and caresses it softly with his thumb.

"What do you need?" he asks. 

Eddie licks his lips before he can speak. 

"You. Kiss me?" he asks.

"Of course, baby. Anything." Steve leans down to pepper kisses all over not only his lips, but his whole face, his exposed collarbone, every inch of clothed and unclothed skin peeking from between the rope, like his body is an altar to pray on. Eddie sighs at the attention, melting into it. When there is no skin left unkissed, Steve wraps himself around him and they cuddle, until Eddie comes back enough to request they watch something.

He refuses to be untied until he's seen two episodes of Hell's Kitchen and got hand-fed broken-off pieces of a granola bar. And even then he agrees to it reluctantly, only when he starts yawning and Steve points out to him there's no way he's going to sleep tied up.

It goes faster than the tying process, but Steve doesn't rush it. He rubs gently every patch of reddened skin he uncovers and kisses it gently. Eddie goes quiet again under his ministrations, but nowhere as far as before. Soon, the rope is put aside in loose coils, and they're staring at each other, Steve rubbing absentmindedly at his thigh.

"Did you like it?" Eddie asks, trying to sound casual. Steve knows he's eager for an answer, though. 

"I know you love me," he starts, making Eddie tilt his head curiously. "But this made me feel it. Like, there was no doubt in my mind, for even a second, that you're ridiculously in love with me."

"Fuck," Eddie groans, startling Steve. But before he can ask what's wrong, Eddie's pulling him in and leaning back, so he has to hover over him. "I just wanted to be pampered a bit. Switch up our crazy hot sex to be even crazier and hotter. And you pull this shit on me. Of course you do," he rolls his eyes fondly.

Steve scrunches his eyebrows. 

"I'm... sorry?" he offers.

"Don't. No. Shut up." Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and breathes through his nose like he's overwhelmed. When he opens them back, they are shiny and wet. 

"Eddie..."

"Marry me," Eddie interrupts him in a single breath.

To say he's taken aback would be an understatement.

"What?" he says like it's punched out of him.

Eddie's face hardens with determination.

"You're it for me, Steve. I trust you to take care of me and I'll take care of you right back. What do you say?"

Steve chuckles wetly, begging his tears not to start spilling onto his future husband.

"What? No ring?" he jokes.

"Hold up." Eddie turns between his arms and scoots on the bed to reach the bedside where a trinket dish full of his rings has a permanent residence. He fishes one out and straightens up, kneeling on the bed. 

Steve sits up, watching him with wide eyes.

"Steve. Will you marry me?"

The ring is smaller than his signature ones, a silver band with an engraved rose, its thorny stem weaving along the length. Steve doesn't recognize it, and he's become quite intimate with Eddie's collection.

"Did you hide an engagement ring in your trinket dish?" he asks incredulously. 

A blush rises to Eddie's cheeks.

"I've been thinking about it for a while, okay?" he explains defensively. "I thought if I didn't go for a pretentious diamond and forego the box and fancy dinner it would make it less scary, will you please fucking answer?" he blurts out. 

Steve laughs, and this time lets the tears fall freely.

"Of course I will marry you, you fucking idiot."

He grabs Eddie's face and pulls him into a kiss. The ring falls somewhere into the sheets but they'll retrieve it later, once satisfied with the number of kisses exchanged between the freshly committed fiancés. 

[oozedninjas]

can I please get something featuring sick!Leo, and a reader that is taken by surprise when he shows symptoms? it could be anything pls and thx

But Tim, are you implying Leo's going to self-sacrifice himself even in small circumstances??? YES HE IS

SFW / Still an 18+ blog so MDNI / Leo and the reader are early -hirties

"Careful, baby," you kindly cautioned him.

Leo shot you a glance as he positioned the recently unpacked television over its designated cabinet. He wiped his forehead as you approached with a glass of cold water.

You had recently landed a new –better paying– job and found a nice loft near the lair. The place was a chaos of boxes and scattered things. Moving was always a bit messy at first, but that was precisely why you asked Leo for help. Who better than him to put things in order?

"Thanks for coming; you saved me," you said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled at your words, accepting the glass. You noticed his hand was shaking slightly.

"My pleasure," Leo said, half-panting before gulping down the water.

You frowned. Did he get tired just by pulling the TV up the cabinet? That wasn’t like him at all. You sharpened your eyes, observing his movements. They weren't as smooth as usual, and he hadn't tried to make conversation. In fact, Leo looked rather... well, less vibrant.

"Hey, are you alright?"

You reached out to cup his cheek, but he rejected the contact, kindly motioning back.

“Yeah. What else do you need help with?”

A stiff smile appeared on his face. Your brow quirked. Judging by the way his gaze deliberately avoided the illuminated points of your apartment and how his lips looked dry even after recently drinking water, you knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Leo,” you scolded. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look kinda… pale,” you said after a few moments, trying to find a word to describe his new –definitely not normal– skin tone.

“I’m okay, just tired. Let’s finish, shall we?” he said, avoiding your gaze as he walked towards the kitchen. “You want the clock here, right?”

Leonardo gestured to the place above the counter, but before he could do anything else, his body simply short-circuited. In the blink of an eye, he lost balance, tried to reach out to hold himself on the small round table near him but failed, falling and taking the table with him.

“Leo!” you rushed to his side.

He pressed a hand to his temple. “It’s pounding…” he commented in a lower voice, more to himself than to you.

“I knew something was off. What's going on?”

“I’m fine… I just-" He paused, looking at your worried expression and feeling a pang of guilt for hiding the truth in the first place. “Donnie wanted me to join him in this video game contest. We were at it for about two days straight.”

“Jesus,” you whispered, shaking your head, “Babe, we're not nineteen anymore. You can’t mess up your sleep schedule like this.”

“I know. But it was important to him.”

You hummed, your gaze softening as you helped him up.

“Well, you should’ve told me. If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked you to come here in the first place,” you told him, gently.

“Sorry. I wanted to see you, and lend a hand.”

You looked at him with a softened gaze. You couldn’t really be angry when the only thing he always did was try and be there for you, even when it wasn’t good for his health. You let out a deep sigh.

“It's okay. Just make sure to tell me if it happens again, okay? For now, let me take care of you.”

“What? No, I’ll go back to–”

“I’m not taking no for an answer tonight, babe. I won't let you walk around half-fainting in the night,” you asserted, cupping his face in your hands. “Let me take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Leo whispered, leaning a little more on you. 

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

June part iv

I’ll tell you the truth

But never goodbye

Remus thought about practice and all the sounds he wouldn’t be hearing again for a couple of months now. A din he desperately hoped would come again in the Fall.

The quiet bustle of the boys arriving. Yawns and some early morning groans. Bags being tossed down into stalls. Velcro and stick tape. The skate sharpener across the hall. The shivery sound of a bucket of pucks being scattered onto the ice. The slap of pucks and bodies on the boards rebounding in a high-roofed, empty rink. The ping of the goalposts. Bursts of laughter between drills. Showers stuttering into a hard, hot spray and the echo of voices off of tiles.

He wanted it all again. The crowds and video tape sessions. The signings and the chance to meet fans. The wins—even the losses. Even the press conferences. He wanted to see his best friends every day. He wanted to win.

They didn’t have a destination, but neither Remus nor Sirius tried to change that. They walked through the New York streets, downtown, where everything felt a little bit like a movie set. Most places were shut tight for the night, but it still felt alive.

Sirius looked handsome in the city lights. In his jeans and t-shirt. More importantly, he looked relaxed. More relaxed than Remus had expected, anyway.

“You’re calm.”

Sirius didn’t look over at him, but a small smile appeared on his face. “Maybe I just look it.”

“Okay, fair.” Remus squeezed their tangled fingers together. “I just meant that you don’t seem…”

“Miserable.”

“Well, sure. That word works.”

“I’m just…” Sirius looked down at him. “Not sure if it’s sunk in yet, maybe. You?”

“No. Not really.”

Sirius squeezed his hand back and Remus felt his engagement ring press into his skin. If anything good came out of this, it was that he would not be taking of his ring any time soon. He caught it glinting in the passing lights.

“New York really never sleeps,” Remus said.

“Neither do we, apparently.”

It was helping more than sleep, though—the walking. It was starving off the soreness they were bound to feel soon. He’d already glimpsed a bad bruise forming near his knee.

“Either way,” Remus said. “I like these walks of ours. It feels different than Gryf.”

“Ouais,” Sirius agreed. “At least we both have rivers.”

The next street they turned onto was not asphalt, but cobblestones. It wound and bent, going against the grid of New York that Remus had become accustomed to. He leaned his head back to look up at the lit apartments above. It might have been two AM, but he could see shadows moving around, or the colorful flickers of televisions.

“Did you talk to Logan?” he asked.

“Non, not really. I mean, on the ice I did. But I don’t know. I wanted to get out of there.”

“Yeah.” Remus sighed. He fought the urge to start talking about the game. Part of him wanted to know each and every single one of Sirius’ thoughts. The hit in the second. The odd, sloppy breakaway in the third. That last buzzer attempt.

“You want to talk about it don’t you,” Sirius said.

Remus laughed, then groaned, hiding it in Sirius’ shoulder. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

It was something special, to have someone who could read his mind. He closed his eyes, inhaling Sirius’ familiar scent and trusting him to guide him on the street. Sirius’ hand disappeared from his and wrapped around his waist instead. A kiss was pressed to Remus’ temple.

“Curb,” Sirius said softly, and Remus stepped down to cross the street then opened his eyes.

“Magnetic,” Remus said. “Do you remember them calling us that?”

“No one needed to remind me.”

Remus tightened his arms around Sirius’ hips and pressed a kiss over his shirt. “I know. I was just remembering.”

Their passes had connected so thoroughly this series. So well. It was awful, almost mean that the passes that stuck in their minds the most were the ones that had missed. 

“How about we keep remembering…” Sirius began. “But how about we do it with fries and milkshakes.”

Remus looked up. The idea made his mouth water. “Yes. What made you say that?”

Sirius just smiled and jerked his chin forward. “Là.”

There was a diner on the corner. Many of the booths in the window were filled—Other people in search of late-night snacks. The neon sign out front read 24 HOURS and Remus could see a group of girls with milkshakes and a basket of fries in front of them.

He reached up to wrap his arms around Sirius’ neck and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek. “Love of my fucking life.”

He felt Sirius smile. Sirius reached for his hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing his ring. “Ouais, it’s true.”

He held the door open for Remus.

They were shuffled into a leather, worn booth and given giant seemingly endless menus. Remus found that he could hardly sit still. He kept laughing to himself. At one point, when Sirius gave him an amused, dazed look, he’d had to cover his mouth.

“You’re wild on adrenaline,” Sirius laughed.

Remus wondered if that was it. If adrenaline was what this was. These weird, surprising tight bursts of joy bubbling over in his chest. Surely he should be feeling low. He had just lost part of his childhood dream yet again.

Was adrenaline fueling the smile Sirius gave him when their two chocolate milkshakes and order of fries arrived? Did adrenaline cause Sirius to skeptically watch him dip a fry into the thick chocolate? Did it make them both laugh when Sirius tried it, made a face, and quickly switched back to ketchup?

Or maybe something had changed.

“You know, I always wanted to talk about games with you,” Remus said.

“Always?”

“You know. Before.” Remus brought the straw of his milkshake between his teeth. “I always wondered what you were thinking. Even when you were mean to me.”

Sirius groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Arrêt.”

Remus reached across the table and tried to pull his hands away. “I did! Sirius, don’t hide, come here.” He laughed when Sirius wouldn’t. “Sirius.”

Sirius let out an exaggerated sigh and pushed himself up from his side of the booth, only to slide into Remus’, arm along the back behind him and tight against his side.

“Wh…” Remus began.

Sirius leaned forward and stole the fry from Remus’ fingers with a short tug of his teeth. “You said come here.”

“That was my fry.”

“Too late.”

“Meanie.”

Sirius just made the sound that Remus associated with both him and Logan—a very Quebecois sort of tisk of disapproval (in Logan’s part, mostly jokingly aimed at Finn). Sirius’ arm slid from the booth to Remus’ shoulders and he kissed him. Remus tilted his chin up into it and let himself relax.

“Chocolate and potatoes?” Sirius asked as he dipped to kiss Remus’ jaw. “Really?”

“Sweet and salty,” Remus replied, trying not to let his eyes slip closed. They were in a diner.

“Weirdo.”

Remus hissed at a playful nip to his neck and Sirius pulled back. Sirius dragged his milkshake over to their side of the table and took a long sip. Remus could tell he was thinking. Remus had always been able to tell when he was thinking. Even when he hadn’t been able to figure out anything else about Sirius.

“Tell me,” Remus said.

“I wish I hadn’t broken that stick,” Sirius said quietly. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “Re…”

“I know,” Remus said. “I know.”

Sirius let out a frustrated sound and rubbed at his eyes. “Merde…I don’t know what gets into me. Well, I do…”

They had both been expecting them, but as the clouds of loss edged back into their peripheral vision, Remus sighed. Sirius tightened his arm around Remus and tilted their heads together. Remus closed his eyes as they took each other’s weight.

“Julian said it best,” Sirius said. “I wanted this for you.”

“And you.”

Sirius pressed his lips together. “I—yes.”

Remus arched a brow, confused by the conflicted look on Sirius’ face. “What, what’s that look?”

Sirius sighed. He smiled, just a little. A bewildered sort of smile. He hooked his fingers into the plastic fry basket mindlessly, the greasy paper crinkling at his touch. His eyes went a little unfocused as he thought. Their blue-gray looked so fair in the diner’s light. “I keep wondering why I’m not as upset as I usually would be. I keep trying to, like…” He moved his free hand outward in a small sharp motion, palm forward. “Push myself towards being that upset. Which is insane. Why do I feel guilty for feeling slightly okay about this?”

“I…” Remus nodded slowly. “I get that. I do. Hey, but that’s good. It’s good you feel okay, you wouldn’t have been okay other years. That’s why I said you seem so calm I’m…I’m fucking proud of you for it.”

“Ouais. I guess…” His expression turned almost shy. “I guess me too.”

That made Remus smile.

“What I mean is…I’m gutted.” Sirius picked up a fry. “I want to throw something, I want a do-over…I want to be angry at Logan.” He tossed the fry back, turning to look at Remus. “But the thing that I keep thinking about isn’t the game. Isn’t the Cup. It’s you.”

Remus’ smile faltered. He looked down. “Yeah? Well… you keep catching yourself feeling guilty?” Sirius nodded. “Well, I keep catching myself thinking that this was it. That I’m finished.”

“You’re not. Re.” Sirius’ hand cupped his shoulder and Remus turned his head to look down at it. He could have drawn his scar in perfect alignment even while not being able to see it. Sirius’ fingers, over his shirt, traced it perfectly, too. He watched Sirius do it once, then twice. It was so much apart of him that even Sirius could map it into his skin.

“Loops.”

“You almost never call me that anymore.”

“Well, right now you’re my teammate as much as everything else and I’m telling you you’re going to get there.”

Remus smiled. He felt the waver in it and so did Sirius. “Telling me as my Captain?”

“As your Captain,” Sirius confirmed. His fingers traced the scar again. “As your friend and teammate who watched you…watched you take every part of your life back from Fenrir.”

Remus surprised himself with a laugh and tears springing to his eyes. “Fuck. I did, didn’t I?”

“Ouais.” Sirius kissed a tear away. “You fucking did.”

“Oh my God,” Remus whispered as the tears pressed harder at him. He tucked his face into Sirius’ neck and Sirius wrapped him up tight. His voice was warm and familiar in his ear.

“I’m telling you as all those things, and I’m telling you as someone who loves you more than anything. Ever.” Sirius’ hand spanned his back, rubbing gently. “D’accord. I think that was most of my English for tonight.”

Remus laughed tearfully again, and then let out a quiet sob, shoulders hitching. “I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m sad or relieved or what.”

“I don’t know either,” Sirius said. His voice held a teasing note. “But our waitress looks like she’s going to bring us free pie.”

Their next laughs were realer, and Remus pulled back. Sirius made a soft sound and thumbed away the tear tracks on Remus’ cheeks. Sirius still looked tired. The strain of the game was still there, but there was a happy, weightless flush to his cheeks that Remus had never seen before.

Sirius dipped a fry in his chocolate shake and held it out to Remus. “Sweet and salty night.”

Remus let Sirius feed him the chocolatey fry. Sirius dipped his own in ketchup and popped it into his mouth. Remus looked over his familiar profile. He’d seen it in shadows and bright lights…he would see him soon in the lake house’s sunset.

“Next year, mon loup,” Sirius said. “You and me. It’s not the end.”

Remus nodded and let Sirius tuck him back under his arm. “You and me.”

~

Logan was leaning against the side of the rooftop bar between Luke and Alex, listening to everyone swap stories and enjoying the warm wind on his back. It was good to be with Percy and Will again. He was glad now, basking in the New York night, that he hadn’t ruined this year for himself—at least not the entire year. He was glad he could stand here laughing with them about old times. The desperate fog of sadness from his first month still haunted him, but it was easier now. That was all he could hope for.

His rum and coke was sweet, but not as good as it was when Finn made it for him. The chicken wings on the table were spicy, but not as balanced as Leo’s. What had started with promises of a big, wild night had mellowed out quickly. It seemed like the team was content to simply be together, basking in the high of the win. Logan was basking with them. Just a little. Even when part of his heart, part of his mind, part of everything that was him, was at home with Leo and Finn.

It was close to three in the morning and Percy was in full form, joking with him about all the girls trying to get his attention. It was true—their group had been clocked the second they came in.

“I swear that’s the sixth one,” Percy sighed, looking over at the bar. “We’re just stars in your galaxy huh, Tremzy.”

“It’s the eyes. Nothing’s changed since college,” Will added. “Thank God Finn isn’t here.” Will had stayed out with them, which was rare. Usually he went home to his family before long. Logan was happy he was here. He’d always loved how loud his laugh was. It reminded him of Freshman year, hanging out in the kitchen of OKN house with Finn and Percy, watching Will cook the house dinner. He’d been such a good captain. The best, besides Sirius.

“What would happen if Finn was here?” Saint asked. He was standing at Luke’s side. Luke kept stealing sips of his whiskey—and narrowing his eyes playfully when Logan smiled at him.

“He, ah, sort of forgets what flirting is,” Logan explained and Alex nodded, pointing at Logan like it would enhance how true that was.

“I mean, maybe it’s more like he’s too good at it?” Percy offered.

Logan laughed. “He talks to everyone and it’s only when they ask him for his number after like, twenty minutes of talking—”

Alex laughed. “Then he’s like, oh no.”

Logan tried for a Finn accent. “Oh, shoot, sorry, I’m actually…”

Will threw his head back with that wonderful, infectious laugh. “Wait, that’s so dead on.”

Logan smiled. “But it was so so wonderful getting to know you! Those pictures you showed me of your dog—Man, they made my night.”

“All right,” Saint held up a hand. “I get it.”

“Yeah stop, it’s creepy now,” Alex said. “That’s scary good. Maybe better than mine.”

Luke scoffed. “Dude, you can’t have a Finn impression. You are a Finn impression.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Alex held up a hand. “If anything, Finn is an impression of moi.”

Logan smiled. He glanced at his phone. One new message, but from Noelle telling him he was coming to lunch tomorrow. It was late.

“Hey, hey,” Percy said, making Logan look up. “I know that look…Nu-uh. Not yet.”

Logan raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Perc.” He put on the Finn voice again. “C’mon, give me a break.”

Percy shuddered. “Okay, I didn’t mean to open this can of worms. This terrifying can of worms.”

“Perc, he beat his boys out today,” Will said. “If he wants to go home, let him.”

Percy put his hands against his chest. “But I haven’t even gotten to the best part of my day yet!”

“How could we ever guess,” Saint said flatly.

Percy winked at him. “Sebastian…Cassie Baker smiled at me today.”

Logan laughed and finished his drink. “Ouais, I’m out. You can moon over my ex-girlfriend without me.”

Alex finished off his drink, too. “I’m done, too. This was fun, boys.”

Percy spluttered. “What? It is young. The night. The earth—is young!”

“I have two boyfriends in my bed, warm and asleep,” Logan said, pushing up from the wall. “And my bed is usually very cold and very empty. So. This was fun. Goodbye.” He looked over at Luke, knocking him lightly in the shoulder as a way of saying goodnight. Luke jerked his chin in reply.

“Tremzy.” Percy actually pouted. “No, non, no.”

“Ouais, yeah, ouais,” Logan said. Percy grabbed onto his arm and made a show of putting most of his weight on Logan to keep him in place. Logan did nothing to help him and Percy began sliding towards the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Will dragged Percy back to his feet with a fond shake of his head. “You’re so embarrassing.” he nodded to Alex and Logan. “You two have a good night. Don’t beat yourselves up too hard. It was a good game.”

“Yeah.” Alex sighed but nodded. “It was.” He looked up and called over to the bar. “A round for these guys, Hank!” He tussled Percy’s hair. “My parting gift, Perseus.”

Percy sent them a mournful look, but looked willing enough to accept the drink. “Fine.”

Even Saint cracked a smile.

“That really was a good Finn,” Alex said as Logan followed him down the stairs to the main restaurant and out the door. A breeze picked up on the dark street.

“Merci.” Logan shivered a little in his thin shirt. “Are you calling an Uber?”

Alex sent him an unimpressed look.

Logan sighed. “You’re walking, aren’t you?”

“What do you take me for?”

“Fuck,” Logan said, but followed him.

It was like walking with Finn—Logan didn’t have to think about directions or finding his way around. He knew they lived near each other but would have to split up at some point. Alex would tell him when they did. For now, the air felt good against his skin and the silence was gentle. Sometimes he still felt like he could hear the game in his head.

“Finn asked me once to try and take the shot for you if I could,” Alex said.

Logan wasn’t surprised. Alex touched his elbow briefly to get him to turn left.

“Luke offered me the same,” he said. “It…it is what it is.” But that wasn’t quite right. “Non. It fucking hurts.”

“I know,” Alex said. “I’ve had that with Kasey. You want to apologize when there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Logan half nodded, half shook his head. “I don’t know. I wish I had gotten to see Le before we left. I thought he needed space. I thought I needed space…I guess we did. I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Alex said.

“Adrenaline’s wearing off,” Logan said. “I miss him.”

“You’re walking home.”

“I know,” Logan said, eyes down. “But I miss him.”

Alex’s hand appeared on his back, rubbing gently.

“Is Kasey doing okay?” Logan asked.

Alex was quiet for a long time. When Logan looked over, he was frowning down at the ground and fiddling with the small, dark diamond he wore.

“Alex?”

Alex guided him right. The light was red but not a car was in sight. “It’s…really hard for me to tell right now actually.” He stepped up onto a low wall and balanced for a few steps before jumping off again. The temperature had dropped. Logan thought it felt like rain.

“You’re the one who told me to talk to Finn when I was worried about us,” Logan began carefully, and frowned when Alex sort of flinched. “You’re not the type to not take your own advice.”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Sometimes I am.”

Logan supposed that was true enough. No one always practiced what they preached. Logan watched their feet as they walked, waiting for Alex to say more. They had fallen into sync. They were quiet for a while again. Alex lead him straight, then left, the straight on again. Logan knocked their shoulders together at one point. Alex knocked back.

“I’m not…worried about us,” Alex said suddenly. “Exactly… I just wonder—I wonder if I’m…” He rubbed a tired hand across his face as they avoided a puddle at a curb. Logan was beginning to think this was about the wedding. He didn’t blame Alex if it was. If Leo and Finn suddenly decided to get married, he’d crawl out of his fucking skin.

“You should tell them,” Logan said softly. He realized he was replying to unsaid things, but if anyone might understand even a sliver of Alex’s situation, it was him.

Alex’s face tightened. “Tell them what?”

Logan thought for a moment. “Whatever you want. Whatever you need to.”

“What I need to?” Alex repeated. “What I need is to show them—show them that I…” Alex gave a sharp shake of his head. Just as suddenly, Alex switched topics. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

Logan looked up at him. “Alex—”

“I hope—did I force you? I’m sorry, Tremz.”

“What? Non, non. I…I’m glad I came. Really, I am. But—”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Just checking.”

The streets turned to cobblestones and took on curves. There were still a few apartment glowing. Logan liked that. It felt like Gryffindor. There was always a light on. Finally, Alex stopped.

“You’re right,” Alex said. “I’m left.”

“Oh, I thought you were agreeing with me.” What he meant was you can talk to me. “Al, can I do anything?”

Alex smiled. It was a little tight, but he gave Logan a playful shove in the right direction. “No. Thanks, Tremz.”

Logan didn’t believe him, but he didn’t know how to push either.

They stood there in front of each other for a moment. Alex huffed out a laugh and hugged him hard. A hug Logan associated with Finn, with Finn’s parents. They both did the little shoulder pat that their mom hugged with, too. It made Logan smile.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Alex replied, muffled by Logan’s shoulder.

When Logan had crossed the street, he turned. He felt like he hadn’t tried hard enough, and he’d already made that mistake once tonight with Leo.

“Mais—I’ll say one thing?”

“What’s up?” Alex nodded, waiting on the corner.

“What you said earlier,” Logan said. “In the locker room and just now. About showing them. That we can be both lovers and—” He almost said enemies. “Opponents.”

“The…oh. Yeah?”

“I think…I think I won a hockey game today,” Logan said. "And I love my boyfriend. If I had lost a hockey game, I would still love my boyfriend. When there are no more hockey games, I’ll still love Leo. And if someone, some fucking reporter wants to link those two things, then they can go to hell.”

Alex was shades of blue and silver across the narrow street.

Logan shifted, a little nervous now. “I don’t think…I don’t think we have to show anyone anything. If it’s okay for me to say…”

Logan thought of the hell this year had been. He thought of Leo, holding him when they’d found out he was going to New York. Leo, tumbling into their living room in the middle of the night when Logan had come home from All-Stars. Leo and his soft kisses in the bright hospital hallway while they waited to see if Finn was okay. None of that was a show. Leo might like to put on a performance on the ice for the fans, but everything else about him was instinct, real and pure. Logan admired that. He’d put up fronts for Finn for so long, fronts that he was still tearing down.

“You don’t have to show Kasey and Nat anything. Not, like, a happy face or that you’re okay. That’s not…” Logan shook his head. “That’s just a bad habit, Alex.”

Alex tilted his head up to look at the faint moon over the city. It wasn’t full, but it was getting there.

“Tremzy…” Alex said slowly. When he smiled, the moonlight lit up his face. “You know what?”

“Quoi?”

“You’re fucking right.” Alex put a hand to his chest. The necklace glinted between his fingers. “You’re so fucking right.”

Logan let out a breath. He smiled back. “Yeah? I don’t know if that made sense in English.”

“Yeah.” Alex’s voice cracked, his brown eyes were bright with tears, but when Logan made to step forward he waved him off.

“Well,” Alex said. “I’m going home now.”

There was a lot of relief in that word. So much that it made Logan smile and feel choked up, too. “Me too.”

Logan tried to open the door as quietly as possible, going slow and expecting darkness.

Only, the lamp above his couch was on, turned down to the dimmest setting, and Finn was looking at him from just below it. He was wearing his faded NASA t-shirt and sweatpants, socked feet crossed on top of a pillow. His sling was draped over the back of the couch, his arm resting easily atop another pillow which also propped his book up.

Sleeping against his chest, was Leo.

Logan wanted to crumble to his knees.

“Oh,” Logan mouthed. He kept perfectly still.

Finn folded the book closed silently. He had his glasses on. Hi, his soft eyes said, and then with a glance down at Leo and a palm on his back: Don’t worry, I’ve got him.

Logan set his keys into the bowl by the door as quietly as he could. Leo. He toed his shoes off. Leo. He walked over to the couch and knelt beside them.

“You are so bad at sneaking,” Finn whispered—so quiet. “Did you have a good time?”

“Ouais,” Logan whispered back. He settled a palm beside Finn’s on Leo’s back, eyes trained on his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful. Logan leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss over his t-shirt. He looked up at Finn so he could read his lips more than hear him. “Had a good walk with Alex.”

Finn’s eyebrows raised, surprised. “Oh? Alex…is very good to walk with.”

Logan nodded. He would tell Finn he was a little worried tomorrow.

“Is he okay?” Finn asked softly.

“He will be,” Logan said. He nodded towards Leo. “And ours?”

Finn rubbed a slow hand down Leo’s back with a sigh.

“Lo…”

So far, Leo hadn’t stirred, but at Finn’s touch Logan felt the change in his breathing. Logan could always tell when Leo was awake. Slowly, Leo’s eyes opened. His cheeks were flushed. He regarded Logan sleepily for a moment. Logan felt Leo’s muscles tense as he remembered.

“Hi,” Logan said softly. “Hi, Le.”

“You—” Leo began, but his voice was hoarse and he had to begin again. “You should be out celebrating.”

“I did,” Logan said. “But I want to be here. Merde, Le, I wanted to be here fucking hours ago, I…” Logan shook his head. He was upset with himself, more so than he’d allowed himself to realize earlier tonight. “I should have come and see you. Soleil, I didn’t know…I didn’t know if you’d want…God, I love you, what can I do? Is there anything?”

Tears filled Leo’s eyes. He gave his head a small shake.

“Okay,” Logan said. Was he allowed to reach out to him? Did Leo want that? “Okay…”

“I’m going home with my parents tomorrow for a couple days, Lo.”

Everything in Logan froze. He looked up at Finn, whose eyes told him that this was what he had been about to say.

“Quoi?” Logan breathed. All the tension came right back into him. The fizzy, heavy quiet drained right out of his head.

“Lo,” Finn said, slightly warning.

It knocked him off balance, sitting back on his knees, but Finn reached out and grabbed his hand. His brown eyes were firm, clouded with racing thoughts and emotions. Relax. Think. Wait. Finn’s fingers squeezed around his own. Think. His thumbs made slow tracks across Logan’s knuckles. It’s okay. Think about him. Think about why.

Slowly, slowly, Logan pulled himself back towards Leo, who was watching him with exhausted blue eyes.

Logan let out a breath, he squeezed Finn’s hand then dropped it and combed his fingers through Leo’s hair. “I…okay. Okay. Whatever you need, Soleil.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you play—”

“Shh,” Logan whispered. “Le. Leo. It’s not about me. I know I just—um. Freaked out for a second. I’m sorry. We’ve had enough of that this year, ouais?” He leaned down to kiss Leo’s temple. “Home is always good.”

Finn closed his eyes at that, tucking his nose into Leo’s hair. “He’s right, Le. I…he’s right.”

Leo’s first sob was quiet, just a hitch of his chest, but the second came out in a harsh breath. He turned his face towards Finn’s chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Logan felt Leo’s pain right in the center of his chest. “We love you. So much. Le…” Logan wrapped an arm around his back, and Leo reached out a hand to hold his.

“We do,” Finn whispered. “We’re right here.”

“Always,” Logan said. “And—Le, you played so well tonight.” Logan’s throat closed up and he had to pause before he could talk again. “And I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re so talented and this year has been shit. It’s been absolute shit, Le.”

“I really—love you, I just—I need…” Leo gave up trying to talk, just pressed closer to Finn.

“You don’t have to explain,” Finn said soothingly. “We understand.”

“Ouais.” Logan nodded. “I also would—would want Eloise’s chicken soup.” Logan wiped his eyes clear of tears so he could see Leo better. “Even with full spice.”

It startled a laugh out of Leo, crying and blocked-nosed as it was. “Full spice?”

“Ouais, I would. I swear it.”

“Me too,” Finn said. “It’d make me cry but me too.”

  Outside it started to rain. A crack of thunder and the force of the drops doubled. Logan didn’t realize he’d hardly looked up until the second clap of thunder.

“The storm,” Leo said.

“Can’t hear it,” Logan replied.

Leo took a few breathes, then picked up his head from Finn’s chest and looked at him.

“Hi, pillow.”

Finn laughed softly. “Very happy to be of service.”

“Didn’t think I was going to be able to sleep at all.” Leo pressed a kiss to Finn’s chin and groaned a little as he pushed himself into a sitting position, like he hadn’t moved in ages. He let out a long breath, rubbing at his eyes.

“I love you guys, too,” Leo said. He reached out for Logan. “The ice…Seeing you on the ice…”

Logan shook his head. “I know.” He pushed himself up onto the couch when Leo made free the space on his other side. Finn sat up and slipped his sling back over his head to cradle his arm. He sat facing them criss-crossed and Leo touched his face. Finn kissed his palm.

“Did you guys eat after the game?” Logan asked.

Leo shook his head. “Finn wanted to get me something but…I really just didn’t want anything.”

“You should have something,” Logan said, then he leaned forward for a quick kiss. “Wait.” This. This was something he could do. “Don’t move, either of you.”

Logan moved around in the yellow light of his kitchen with hard-fought for ease. He cracked eggs into a bowl. He poured a splash of milk in, the way Leo had taught him. In the pan, he kept the heat on low, turning the eggs slowly so their soft curl didn’t break. He turned the heat off while they were still just a little runny, slid them onto the toasts—which he had managed to time perfectly—to let them finish cooking while they melted in butter and a few passes of shaved cheddar. Four shakes of chili flakes. He went to the fridge and found the fresh mint that Leo had bought for him. He waited a moment for his kettle to boil, then clumped the mint into three mugs and poured the hot water over them. A little drizzle of honey in Leo’s, a big drizzle in his, none for Finn.

In the living room, Finn and Leo were dozing together. Outside, the sky lit up with lightning and both of their eyes opened. Leo held out his arm.

“You’re back.”

“Of course,” Logan said.

Leo looked over at Finn. “See?”

Finn shuffled Leo closer under his arm. “I do. I do.”

Logan braced himself, setting the tray of Leo’s eggs and the three teas down just in time for the thunder to make him flinch. Leo’s eyes were clearer now. He smiled when they saw the food.

“Aw, Lo…”

“It’s nothing like you can do,” he said. “But I love you.”

I love you, love you, love you.

He settled the plate on Leo’s lap and watched as he took a bite, humming as he chewed. He held out the toast for Finn. Another crack of thunder rang out, but Logan hardly heard. He was warm in one of those softly glowing apartments he’d seen from the street. The sun was going to rise soon and Leo and Finn were tucked close to him. Their faces were tear-streaked, noses still sniffling, and it wasn’t quite their summer. Not yet.

Outside it was raining and thundering, but inside it was beginning to feel to Logan like their storm was passing by.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

You Could Just Ask

Summary:

“You still gonna be a jackass to our friends instead of just asking me to pleasure you?” you say. He swallows. His adam’s apple bobs. “If this is my reward, absolutely.” He can’t see you smile at this angle. He can feel your grip leave his cock to slide your fingers through his hair before you grab. Still slow, still steady, giving him plenty of opportunity to stop you. He don’t. He lets you pull his head back, bare his throat, and only whimpers and shivers against you.

Or: Astarion is terrible about communicating what he wants. But Eleanor is getting good at translating gremlin.

Astarion has been in a fucking mood for two days now. It’s driving you nuts, it’s driving everybody nuts, and by all accounts, it’s driving him nuts. Ain’t nobody can put a finger on it, neither. He’s well fed, y’all went on a murder spree day before yesterday, and he even found a nice, silk jacket to wear around camp.

Man’s got it made.

And decided to be a bitch about it.

You sit at the breakfast fire, needlessly poking at the embers with a stick while he makes snide swipes at Gale’s cooking (which he don’t eat), Karlach’s clutter (she just found a stuffed owlbear to match Clive), and Lae’zel sharpening her weapons (he got a point, there).

Even Wyll stares at the fire, shoulders set in a tense line. Something’s gonna snap if somebody don’t do something.

“It’s not as if you can deal any real damage,” Astarion says to Shadowheart, who tried to get him off Gale’s ass and is now taking the brunt of it. “We all saw how accurate your spells were in the temple.”

She looks all cool and collected. Just lifts one of her eyebrows. But her knuckles are white as her fists tremble. Shadowheart fought off the mother superior of her former, well, it ain’t called a church, here. But she fought the bitch and won and she paid for it.

“That’s it.” You stand

Astarion clocks the movement and turns to face you (stares down his nose at you; or tries to since you two are the same damn height).

“Y’all wanna head out?” you say over your shoulder to the others as they stash their day gear into their packs. “I think we’ll stay here, today.”

“Gladly,” Gale mutters in an outside voice.

“Welcome to it,” Karlach says which means hoo-boy, even she’s getting pissy.

Wyll gives you a blank look, that slowly morphs into a sly “good luck” sort of grin. Turd. Everybody thinks the Blade of Frontiers is so upstanding, much nobility, wow. But Wyll is a sly little shit, is what he is. He just hides it real good until it’s time to strike.

They all shuffle on outta there double quick. Astarion watches them go as he checks his nails for damage that ain’t there.

Then you’re alone—well and truly, Shadowheart and her half-elven hearing—and you turn to your exasperating lover.

“The fuck was all that?” you say.

He just looks at you, all unimpressed. Sniffs. “What was what, dear? You’ll have to be more specific.”

You will not throw your camp slipper at him. He dodges too well, and then you got to go fetch the damn thing before either Scratch of Sweetums gets it and demolishes it (or drops it in the river, bad dog) (but not really bad bad dog, and he got pets later on, anyway).

“You’re being a dick,” you say.

To which he, predictably, rolls his eyes. “As if it’s my fault we’re surrounded by incompetent idiots.”

His gaze flicks down. Just for a second. You almost miss it, but it landed on the top of your tunic. You got yourself a new one of those, too. But only to wear around camp, cause it’s got itself a damn titty window under some satin neck straps. Astarion’s pupils flare wide a second, and then he glares at you as if challenging you to comment.

You been together several times, in several way by now. He usually initiates (you did once). But you got a suspicion.

You step closer. Reach out slow and careful to crook your finger over the top of his trousers, since he tucks his shirt in and all. Then you pull, slow and steady, leave him plenty of time and distance to stop you or pull away.

But his pupils dilate again, and he steps into you. Lets you drag him flush against your front.

“Astarion,” you say. The man actually licks his lips. “Did you get horny and decide to be an asshole to everybody about it?”

A hint of a smile tugs his lips before he buries that under scorn. “Of course not.”

But you’re learning his tells. The way his gaze hovers over your face, darts down to the titty window and the hint of cleavage like a hummingbird. Also the less than subtle grind against you as he says it.

“Were you being a dick to get us alone?” you say.

A pause, this time. His voice wobbles a touch when he says, “No.”

You lean in. Catch the way his face tilts to meet you.

“I think you’re lying,” you say against his lips. “I think you want me alone, and I think you went all bratty so I’d feel ornery about it.”

His inhale stutters. A minute shiver runs through him. “And what would you do if you were, ahem, ‘ornery?’”

It’s mind boggling how much things’ve changed in the months since y’all met. Since the disastrous first days of…this. That you can be here now, with him, talking like this? It’s a minor miracle.

He’s so fully pressed into you you can feel his cock twitch even through the cotton trousers.

“Did you do all this so I’d fuck you?” you say. You cannot keep the smile off your face or outta your voice.

He finally cracks. Closes his eyes and runs his lips over yours. Drawls, “Maybe.”

“Is it the strap?” you say. He’d picked it out and purchased it in the city, and then the nice sex shop man showed you how to put it on and, well, implied how to use it. And clean it (that part was very explicit, detailed instructions.)

The tip of his tongue swipes your upper lip. His hands ghost up your sides.

“Would you?” he says.

He takes charge in the sheets. But he bought that dildo to use on him, and he seemed to enjoy it when you did (he whimpered as you fucked him).

You’re learning what you like in terms of dirty talk (it’s surprisingly graphic). He’s an excellent teacher. So you gird your loins, ignore the heat all the way down your neck, and open your mouth. “You want me to spread you wide on my cock and fuck you all better?”

He sucks in a gasp. “Gods, darling, yes.”

Then his lips crash into yours and you’re both stumbling towards y’all’s shared tent.

The rest on AO3 for very, very rated E reasons.

[aria-chicken-flugget]

Dinner with the Birches

Judd x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature for strong sexual language and content MINORS* Please do not read/interact

Fic length: 3.8k words

Warnings: Mentions Knife Play, Pet Play and Choking (Those cheeky Hormone Monsters eh ;) eyebrows eyebrows~)

Summary: You're invited to dinner with the Birches, a very loving, kind and sex positive household. How will you fare as an easily embarrassed teen who just so happens to be crushing on their eldest son...

A/N: This is my first piece for Big Mouth! Cross posted from my ao3 account under the same title. Fic under the cut, enjoy :3

“Di-Dinner? I mean, are you… are you sure that that’s cool?”

You chuckled nervously, absently circling the hem of your new, hot pink shirt between your thumb and forefinger. Leah threw her head back with a laugh before checking her nails,

“Oh my God, (y/n), you forget how my parents let just about anything come for dinner.”

A horrifying flashback of Jay Bilzerian giving them post-its for dinner came to mind, with a quick roll of her eyes at the memory and a smile towards you, “You are of course more than fine, they love you.”

You took a breath and offered another soft laugh, shaking your head,

“You’re totally right, they’re… they’re really sweet. I guess I just feel bad, it’ll be my third time in a row.”

Smiling softly to yourself at the thought. You checked yourself out in your floor length mirror, smile growing as you twisted your hips to check each angle of yourself,

“I really like the shape that this shirt gives me.”

“Omg! You look amazing, it really accentuates your waist and curves.”

She gave a wink and you both laughed,

“Thanks Leah!”

Connie chimed in from atop of your bed with crossed ankles,

“I just love women building up women! You two are as good as your big, beautiful boobahs in that shirt, baby~”

You flushed with a whine,

“Connie!”

Rolling your eyes some, unable to deny it and allowing a small smirk. She had a point, your boobs did look pretty good in your new shirt. Connie’s brows wiggled comically with a low and velvet tone,

“I bet Judd’s gonna love the shirt ~”

Lilting his name in emphasis. Your cheeks begun heating up, your wide eyes flit to Leah, as if afraid you were about to be caught out. Fortunately, she couldn’t hear Connie and was distracted by her phone. You waved your hands dismissively at Connie with a low hiss,

“Connie please, the guy’s a total psycho-“

Sounding unconvincing even in your own ears. Realistically on a personal level, you only knew what you had heard of him from Leah. You knew in yourself that you were rationalizing with an excuse and worst of all, so did Connie. Connie kept gushing,

“He’s gonna love it so much that he’ll wanna tear it right off of ya, and then tie you up to the bedposts with the pretty pink shreds, OOH Baby!~”

Raising a hand to her forehead in a dramatic sweep and squirming with a laugh to herself. Your cheeks were bright red as you whined,

“Connie! Would you quit it?”

Folding your arms across your chest as you tried desperately not to imagine being tied up by Judd…

“I hardly know him, Con. Besides he’s Leah’s brother, it’d be totally weird to think of him in that way.”

Emphasizing with a nervous chuckle, but it seemed your randy hormone monstress was keen on ignoring you,

“Ooh ooh what if he does it shirtless? Please God let shirtless Judd tie her up - We loveee a shirtless Judd, he is hotter than the fireworks comin’ out of my pussy on the fourth of July!”

“Oh God, Connie! Please do not go on, I do not want to know how that feels.”

You shook your head vehemently, facepalming. Ah fuck… now you can’t stop thinking about shirtless Judd.

“Do you remember when we saw shirtless Judd for the first time, after he sharpened his knives out back, smellin’ like woodchips and cigarettes? Whew baby~”

Connie held her chin in her hands as she playfully kicked her hoofs back and forth atop of the bed, opposite Leah who was thankfully none the wiser and still on her phone. Your hands felt clammy, you swiped them against the jean of your thighs. Swallowing a cotton ball and ignoring the balmy feeling of your flushed chest, you fanned yourself with a forced laugh,

“Whew… is it warm in here?”

Leah peered up from her phone,

“Hmm? I don’t think so. Oh wait, we should probably get going soon, Mom says dinner’s gonna be ready in a half hour.”

***

The front door swung open to a beaming Elliot Birch,

“If it isn’t the wonderful (y,n)! What a pleasure it is to see you again. Please, please come in!”

Gesturing with a sweep of his arm as he stood aside, you offered a bright smile,

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Dr. Birch.”

Smile widening at his ‘This Apron’s a Feminist’ apron. What an icon. Leah appeared bored, rolling her eyes half heartedly as she breezed inside past the both of you. Smirking,

“God Dad, do you have to be so corny every time? You saw her yesterday.”

“Well when in the presence of excellence one simply must, especially if that’s everyday~.”

He held his clasped hands to his chest with a soft sigh. You felt warmth in your chest at the kindness of your best friend’s Dad. He was like a pseudo parent, with enough light and love for all. You allowed a flattered giggle, but any other thoughts stopped dead as Judd turned the corner with his shirt over his shoulder. Abs and lean muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat. His trademark scowl upon you at the door, he gave a grunt of recognition,

“Hey.”

Flicking his knife in an effortless swish. Trying to ignore Connie going nuts behind you - and dare you admit, ignoring a fluttering in your stomach - all you could manage was a,

“Uh –“

Mouth open in a small ‘o’ for a dumb moment, fortunately Diane’s voice sounded from the kitchen and saved you from an awkward moment longer,

“Judd hurry up hon, dinner’ll be ready soon.”

His scowl somehow deepened with another grunt. Scorching emerald eyes met yours and the intensity behind them winded you. Was that a smirk? It happened too quickly for you to really tell, and before you could register it, he was stalking the stairs two at a time. You were left watching his taut back muscles with your mouth hung open as Elliot giggled with Leah. Connie was trying to tell you that he really did like the shirt after all, but you were too busy trying to clear your throat and come back down to Earth. You took a deep sigh, trying to cover it with a glance around the Birch family home, and distracting yourself with the pleasant aroma of a home cooked meal. You felt yourself tense, feeling curious eyes on you still. Ah shit, Leah and her Dad were right there, weren't they. They hadn’t witnessed your fluster, surely? Hopefully? And now you had to get through an entire dinner with Judd across the way… You could feel Connie’s eyebrows wiggling from where she nestled herself onto your shoulder, lashes fluttering. God Dammit, Connie.

***

“Uhh uhhh fuck, (y/n) looked so fucking good in that tight little shirt. That pretty pink fabric - her tits were practically popping out, what a little cock tease~”

Maury mused in a gravelly voice, Judd blanking him as he flung the knife in his hand at his target on the wall. Bullseye. Maury perched on the edge of the bed with an excited bounce,

“Bullseye! Judd, hey Judd – what if you used one of those knives in some knife play, huh? D’you think (y,n)’s into knife play? OOH what if you used one of your knives to slowly cut away her pretty shirt and, and just fucking motorboat those puppies haha. I tried that last week at a sex party with John Stamos heh-“

“Stop. Fucking. Talking.”

Judd interrupted with a low rasp, jabbing a knife in his direction as a warning. Then stalking away to the bathroom to shower before dinner. Hopefully the water can wash away his thoughts.

“Maybe you could beat one out in the shower before seeing those perfect tits again at dinner. OR, even better – skip dinner, bring her upstairs and plow her ‘til your shooting blanks!”

Judd growled a guttural sound at the silhouette outside the shower curtain, dangerously low. Rubbing his eyes under the hot water. Maury’s low chuckle emanated against the walls of his mind,

“Oho ho ho hoh it’s gone straight to your balls-“

“Next time you speak, I’ll stab you.”

Fuck you, Maury.

***

You were sat next to Leah with their parents heading the table, leaving you sitting opposite Nick and Judd. The room was quiet save for the clinking of cutlery on plates and rhythmic stabbing of Judd’s knife upon his plate. Anytime you peered over at him you felt your cheeks grow warm, and so were quick to avert your gaze. Hoping to distract yourself, you broke the silence,

“Thank you for having me over again, Dr and Mrs Birch.”

“Oh please, call me Diane, (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure as always, (y/n) and please call me Elliot.”

Judd stole a glance your way to see your sweet smile, your bashful gaze turned to your food as you were tucking a stray lock of soft hair behind your ear. He soon returned to stabbing his plate. Leah’s sly smile grew as she observed the two of you, looking rather pleased with herself as she popped some food between her lips. Nick seemed to be ignoring everyone, head in his palm as he poked noncommittally at his food. Diane placed her cutlery down with a gentle voice,

“What’s the matter, Nicky?”

“Ahh, ’s nothing. Fought with Andrew.”

Elliot chimed in with concern,

“Oh no, what did you fight about?”

“Which one’s gonna fuck who, next?”

Judd interjected with that casual rasp, earning a light scold from his parents and you’d choked on your food. Nick whined,

“Shut up, Judd!”

He offered a sinister chuckle,

“What, worried he won’t feel your little dick if you did it?”

“Judder butter, play nice please, we have company.”

Elliot gestured towards you, who was being whacked on the back by Leah in an effort to stop your coughing. You waved them off good naturedly, eyes streaming as you wheezed,

“I’m alright, really.”

“Besides, it’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.”

Elliot flourished. You tried to laugh it off to cover your wheezing cough from returning, gulping down your water. Breathless, you managed with a coerced smile,

“Does your family always talk about penis every time you have dinner?”

“Sometimes we talk about other genitals too.”

Leah sounded almost bored, entirely desensitized to it. Your brows downturned with another nervous chuckle. Catching Judd’s serious gaze on you, you immediately glanced away with a deep flush. Elliot laced his fingers as he addressed the table,

“As you may know, (y/n) we’re a very sex positive household. We don’t want our beautiful children to feel any shame when it comes to something perfectly natural, such as us normalizing small penises -”

“Oh sure yea, let’s completely forget about my problems and talk about genitals again.”

Nick muttered under his breath. Elliot reached for his youngest son’s hand,

“Nicky, having a small penis is nothing to be ashamed of, don’t let anyone get to you about it.”

You could feel yourself tensing, eyes wide as your gaze flit around the table, lips taut as if sewn shut. Elliot finished with a honeyed tone,

“Whether you decide to be intimate with Andrew or not, anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

Judd chuckled lowly as Nick whined in protest,

“I don’t want to fuck Andrew! Argh, gross.”

“Elliot, honey, maybe we should try to talk about something else?”

Diane offered, sensing the table dynamics being thrown for a loop. Elliot kissed the back of her soft palm with a smile,

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you~. Leah, (y/n), how’re rehearsals going for your new play?”

“Oh they’re going great so far, actually, thank you. We got the leads, we’re sisters in the show.”

You chirped, beaming as bright as the sun getting to talk about what you loved and best of all, you would get to work with your best friend. If you had a magnifying glass, or if you were in fact even paying attention to it at all, you may have been able to see Judd’s lips curve into a pleasant arc. Decidedly less menacing than usual. Maury and his gaggle of penises would be having a field day. Elliot beamed,

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

“Oh God what about that scene we have to rehearse for, tomorrow though? Talk about annoying.”

Leah mused, you turned to her with lightly knotted brows,

“Which one?”

“The one with Daniel – ugh. I think they’re still making your scene together an interpretative sex scene.”

“Wh-what?”

“Ew wait, Head Pusher?”

Nick screwed up his face in disgust as he asked, Judd stopped stabbing the table. You were too busy tensing up with an unpleasant feeling crawling up your spine to notice. Elliot chimed in,

“'Head Pusher?' Should we be concerned about this young person?”

“Nick said I slashed his tires.”

“Right before Nick was sick in his hat, ha.”

Leah interjected with a laugh so that it was uncertain whether anyone had actually heard Judd’s criminal offense. You whispered to her,

“Do your parents know about that party?”

“Oh it’s fine, we got grounded for it, they know.”

“Oh okay hah.. ha..”

You tried a laugh but all this oversharing was… odd for you, to say the least. Not to mention the discomfort seeping into your lower abdomen at the thought of having any kind of scene with Daniel the Head Pusher.

“Yes I was… sick in his hat haha ha..”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he caught Diane’s narrowed gaze before he shot out,

“But at least I didn’t cum in the living room, that’s the worst thing to happen in that room.”

“Worst thing so far -”

“That was your friend. Your friend came in the living room.”

Leah pointed out with a scoff, her fork pointing his way, once more over shadowing Judd’s ominous threat. Judd was chuckling to himself at the news,

“Ha, Nice.”

All the while you had some salad lodged in your throat again, bobbing up and down unable to get it down. Nick uttered to himself, surprised,

“That wasn’t supposed to reflect badly on me, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“Does Andrew have a bigger penis? Is that what’s been upsetting you, Nicky?”

Elliot took his son’s hand again, voice rung true with concern despite the nature of the question stirring different reactions from the table. Nick slid his hand out from his father’s grasp as if he’d burned to the touch,

“Oh God Dad, no!-“

“His chode is bigger than your little dinger though, bet.”

“Fuck you, Judd!”

“Well someone should- and that someone is you~“

Connie muttered in your ear, almost making you jump out of your seat. Leah offered,

“Nick girls don’t care about penis size as much as guys do.”

“This wasn’t even what I was talking about! You all assumed and started talking about dicks!-“

“You know pleasure isn’t always strictly penetration, in fact I’d argue the opposite –“

Diane began and you’d finally swallowed the lodged food. You stopped trying to eat in favour of rubbing the tense spot on your brow,

“Oy vey-”

“Oh totally, but the effort in trying is better than a fucking head pusher, gross.”

“Hear that, Nick? You’ll get points for trying - if you can actually find someone that wants to hook up with you first, haha.”

“Is it so bad that he hasn’t uh.. done that stuff yet? I mean he’s still young, we all are… still young. Young and pressured ha ha... ha.”

You found yourself interjecting Judd’s low sting in a ramble, cheeks growing warmer by the minuet as it tumbled out like word vomit. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Judd after catching his unreadable gaze. Lately when you looked at Judd and caught his thousand yard stare, it made you feel things in the pit of your stomach that you only really seemed to hear about. Leah quirked a blonde brow at Judd’s response, or lack of one thereof. Diane smiled at you,

“I think that’s true, too. There’s a lot of pressure on young people to do things they may not even be ready for.”

“I hope no one’s ever made you feel that way, (y/n).”

Elliot once again with concern ringing true in his tone and intent, but only causing your shoulders to tense with a flush crawling up to your ears. You cleared your throat in an effort to even your voice,

“N-no no, not at all, thank you uh, for your concern haha I am just swell.”

Jesus Christ, swell? That’s what I’m going for? Well, too late now. Your held your arms with your head hung in a dip, Elliot was ready to preach to you about loving yourself when it was likely the last thing you needed in that moment. Judd seized you up from across the table, scowl deepening before eyeing his parents. He was quick to pluck the balsamic dressing bottle up, and tossed it over at Nick’s head,

“Hey Nick, think fast.”

“Ow Judd, what the fuck? What was that for, asshole?”

He chuckled that low sinister laugh at the connection the bottle made to his brother’s head,

“I told you, I’m an agent of chaos, you little scrunt.”

Nick rubbed the spot with a whine before slapping Judd’s arm. Diane raised her voice some,

“Judd! - Boys, stop that right now!”

“I need to get the fuck to college.”

Leah held her head in her hands for a moment, meeting your gaze between her fingers,

“Please tell me you’re finished with dinner, we can hang out upstairs if you are.”

***

After some time with Leah in her room, you were on your way out when a sweet chittering sounded by your feet,

“Hmm?”

A racoon had weaved itself between your ankles with it's excitable trill. You simply bubbled with laughter as you crouched down to meet it, any prior nerves melting away as the little racoon let you pet their fluffy head. It bumped its head up into your hand as you pet it, stroking between their eyes with your index finger,

“Well aren’t you sweet! You seem uh pretty domesticated for a wild animal?”

“Raccoons can’t be fully domesticated -"

“Jesus!”

"-but apparently they’re pretty good at catering small events.”

You shot up at the sound of Judd’s velvet voice coming out of nowhere from behind you, hand flying to your chest. Judd seemingly unfazed by the outburst had continued over it. His lips curled in an impish smirk. The racoon that was perched in your hand had fled behind Judd’s calf with a warbled chitter. Your lips curving in an unexpected smile as you met Judd’s dark smirk,

“We should get a bell on you or something, you scared the shit out of me. That was some Adam's family bullshit right there.”

“Ugh fuck, she’s into pet play? Please tell me she’s into pet play and wants to put a pretty bell collar on you or, or on herself, Mmmngh~”

Maury was still foaming at the mouth in the background, Judd grunted at him but made to ignore him as his slight smirk fell on you,

“You’re one to talk, your dumbass dramatic reaction just scared the little guy.”

Your attention drawing back to the little fella chittering from behind Judd’s leg. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your smile as you did. Folding your arms with a quirked brow at Judd,  before crouching down once more with a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry little one –“

Maury opened his mouth to speak as you began leaning down with that open collar, Judd glared at him murderously,

"Don't even think about it."

Before you could get into your apology, the fluffy racoon seemed to have immediately forgiven you. They hopped right into your arms, making you giggle in delight,

“Well alright then~”

“God she’s as bright as the sun, that usually disgusts us in a person.”

Maury rubbed his furry chin in thought, observing (y/n) with the racoon. After a moment more of laughter, you realized Judd was observing you with a quizical brow. You cleared your throat and stood tall, scratching the back of your head,

“Anyway, I uh.. I should be heading off now. It was nice to meet you um..?”

“Cookie. That one’s Cookie.”

You could hardly suppress your smile at the name, biting down on your plush lips,

“Cookie. Unexpectedly cute.”

“Just like Judd~”

Connie wiggled her brows with a seductive lilt, to which you rolled your eyes. Judd was no where near ‘cute’… but you couldn’t deny that learning small things like this about him made you smile, and spread an unexpected warmth through your chest. Judd allowed a small smirk,

“Cute? You don’t know why they’re called that.”

That near psychotic smile matched with that low husk made you question your initial analysis. Either way you chuckled softly, tucking your hair behind your ear with a confident smile,

“Then maybe you should tell me about it sometime.”

That stopped his smirk short, his brows raised as his lips parted in a small ‘o’. Your own smile dropped at his response. Oh shit, did I say something wrong? Before he could respond, Leah emerged from her room,

“Oh, (y/n) you’re still here?”

Judd grunted with a deepened frown, side eyeing Leah as he heard her voice from behind him. Your rosy cheeks and bright eyes met hers with a faintly opened mouth, as if about to speak. Leah leant against her door frame as she mused in a lilt,

“Well it’s dark now, I don’t think you should go home alone –“

“I’ll drive you.”

Leah smiled with raised brows, I didn’t even have to finish~

“Oh ok, are you s-sure? Thanks.”

Judd grunted in response,

“Yea, common.”

Fishing his keys from a surprise compartment behind a painting.

“Be safe, kids~”

Leah winked at you from her doorframe, you caught it as you peered over Judd’s shoulder before heading down the stairs.

“Oh Shit - Leah knows you wanna bump beautifuls with her sexy jungle cat of a brother!”

“Wait what?! I thought she meant ‘be safe’ because he drives like a maniac?”

“Oh my sweet summer child-“

Connie cradled you in her anthropomorphic hair arms without any space between you, you kept inhaling her fur. You felt like you were a dog toy being squeezed. You tapped her furry side,

“Uh, Con.. Connie – can’t breathe!”

She let you go with a small apology, watching as Judd met the bottom of the stairs, grunting at you in a way that prompted your frozen limbs to move again. Connie lilted,

“I’ll let Judd do the chokin’ baby~”

Ah fuck… now you’re fantasizing about fucking in the back of his car.

[sinnful-darling]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I love the yan zombie can we have more ❤️

im so glad you liked them! and im having a good day, i hope you are as well.

cws : post-mutation yan! zombie, slight gore mention but it’s just the reader panicking about being eaten, was fucking around with some new writing ideas aka trying to sound more sophisticated pls forgive me if it sounds like ass

you watch with horror as the zombie’s flesh begins to mend itself — just what the hell was happening? you’d figured they had a different strain, but for it to mutate again? their eyes dart to you, a smile that seems too wide begins to split their cheeks. their skin stretches and becomes taut, sharpened canines glinting in the candlelight.

they take one step, two steps, three steps, stopping in front of your restrained form. you flinch as they reach out to you, bloodied fingertips feeling featherlight as they lift your chin. “hm…”

your mind is racing. what do they plan to do? are they going to eat you? are they going to sink their teeth into your flesh and tear meat from the bone? surely, with how sharp their incisors look they would have no issue.

“please,” you swallow thickly. “don’t hurt me.”

their smile drops. “hurt you? oh little mate, i would never hurt you.”

they stroke your hair, the action is unsettling rather than comforting as they’d hoped for. their hand feels heavy, cold. you notice that something seems to be pulsing beneath the skin of their throat. “not unless you tried to leave me, at least. but you wouldn’t leave me… right?”

you quickly shake your head, missing the thinly veiled desperation in their tone. “good, good. i knew i made the right choice in taking you as my mate.”

they stand suddenly, leaving the room; you hear rustling, then a crash — a string of curses following. they bound back into the room, a giddy look in their eyes. “i got you this!”

they push a book into your hands. it was a book you’d been rambling about during the early days of your friendship — back when you were looking for ways to leave. you’d come to like the zombie though, so you’d decided to stay. they definitely increased your chances of survival by far.

“thank you.” you force a smile, your senses picking up a new scent. “what’s that smell?”

their eyes light up. “d’ya like it? it’s my pheromones — or, well, i think it is?” they sheepishly scratch their cheek, accidentally injuring themself. the flesh is quick to mend. you gulp.

“it’s nice. smells good.” you open your book, missing the way they shudder with delight, tongue darting out to wet their lips.

soon, they think. soon i’ll set my plan into action.

[sky-kiss]

Hi there, it's me, your girl, knocking on your door and asking for a tiny fic if you take to this prompt 😊

Strip poker. Lmao no. But maybe. It'd just be Tav getting naked as they lose horribly to him.

Okay actual prompt, sorry. I love possessive Raphael, it shivers me timbers.

What if after he successfully gets the Crown with Tav's help. And Tav thinks they're done forever, and is sad about it during their hurrah meal (THAT HE PROMISED US BUT WE DIDNT GET IN GAME?), but Raphael is very much not done with Tav yet. But plays them along a little, delighting in how attached they seem to be to him.

But also, feel free to do the strip poker adjacent if that appeals more. 😉 Thank you my dear!

________

A/N: I’m going to be super honest, babe. I almost did the strip poker prompt. 

________

“This, my dear, to a most successful partnership.” Raphael held up his glass, a beautiful crystal flute that seemed to catch the firelight; held it. Tav didn’t want to guess how rare it was, or how much it cost. Raphael seemed inclined to excess; the meal he’d promised so many moons prior reflected those beliefs. The first wine he’d served was centuries old; the second was even older. The gown he’d left provided, perfectly tailored, was set with enough jewels to sustain a small kingdom. 

Tav smiled at his toast but could not find it in herself to respond. As fine as the night had been, it held a note of finality that sat heavy on her heart. It was the bow on his victory and his crown. After this, they’d go their separate ways. 

It was objectively the correct course of action. Dealing with a devil of any sort was ill-advised; dealing with one so intimately bordered on suicide. 

Raphael smirked at her, cocking his head to the side. The firelight caught him in profile, sharpening already fine features, casting his eyes in deeper shadows. He leaned forward. “My, has the cat finally caught your tongue? Here? At the end of all things?” 

“Not in the least. Only tired.” 

“I could send you back…” 

“No!” The answer was far too quick. The devil arched a brow, smiling with teeth. He folded his hands in front of him, long fingers interlaced. Tav tried not to fixate on them, or the way his thumb shifted, stroking some invisible line across his wrist. “No, that isn’t necessary. It’s only…I supposed a part of me didn’t expect things to end so soon.”

“But it’s been months, my sweet. Are you not tired of the road? The violence?” Lower, a note of teasing crept into his voice. “My company?” Tav huffed. The adventurer sipped her wine to stop her immediate reply. The one the devil undoubtedly wanted. His eyes, bright as hellfire, glowed. “It should grieve me to leave you wanting, little mouse. You need only say that word and…” he snapped his fingers. The candles leaped with new liveliness before fading to a more intimate level. “We might find some new way to occupy our time.” 

“You have hells to conquer.” 

“And what is a conquest without dear friends?” He chuckled, and Tav fought the urge to shiver. The fireplace was far too large for the banquet hall. Avernus was naturally hot. The air in her lungs felt stagnant and overheated. “Admit it. You're curious. What will Raphael accomplish?” 

“I don’t doubt you if that’s what you’re implying.” 

“Never. I would not dream of slandering my talents or your good sense, pet.” He extended his hand, palm up. “But I would never force my suit. You are, as ever, entirely free to make your own choices.”

Tav pursed her lips. The little alarm in the back of her head was screaming. Run, it said, get far from here and far from him. She’d never been good at listening to those notes of reason. Raphael must have seen it too. The devil smirked, the right corner of his lips curling back to highlight the point of his fangs. “I wouldn’t…see us part ways. Not yet.” 

“Mmm. And why not? Indulge this…inquiring mind.” 

 She sighed, shrugging. “Because I’m…fond of you, devil.” 

“Good girl, honesty is always the best policy.” Gods, but he looked insufferably pleased with himself. Raphael leaned back, resting his chin in his palm. He drummed his fingers against his cheek. “It would be dangerous for you to stay, of course, and I could never endanger one so dear to me. Unless…” he let the sentence hang between them, full of potential and thoroughly premeditated. Tav could feel the noose tightening, the hooks he’d set in her flesh from their first meeting tugging at her soul. “A patron makes all the difference in the hells. Were you to swear yourself to me, you might remain.” 

She laughed. “Is that all? Just put myself in your hands?” 

“My hands, my lap, my bed.” His smirk took on a particularly feline quality. “Don’t look so surprised, pet. I kept the Emperor out of that lovely head. Did you think I hadn’t seen what was in it?” 

He made a vague gesture with his left hand, and those lurid imaginings came forward. The dreams that had chased Tav into an uneasy sleep for months: his touch smoothing over her hips. His mouth on her breasts. Touching, and teasing, and…

“Enough.” She swallowed, head spinning. “You’ve made your point.”

“Swear you are mine, devote yourself to me, and I will give all your imaginings form. What is one mortal life compared to pleasure eternal?” He held out his hand again. 

And Tav took it. 

[nobodyfamousposts]

Another Miraculous Crossover Nobody Wanted (DCxML)

In the midst of so many Batfamily/Miraculous crossovers, the thing I feel so many people forget is that the Waynes are...well...themselves.

Sure, they're awesome vigilantes. Trained in martial arts and with great mental fortitude to help them against the likes of Scarecrow's fear gas, Joker's venom, and Mad Hatter's manipulations.

...the problem is that Hawk Moth is a whole different ballgame.

He doesn't target their fears or dreams. He targets ANYTHING. Like petty annoyances. Frustrations. Sleep deprivation. Obsessions. Things the Batfamily generally try to ignore on a regular basis.

If he can akumatize and reakumatize the same man over his love of pigeons and people who feel they've been wronged over silly reasons, there's SO MUCH that could come from the complete dysfunction/emotional constipation that is the Wayne family. Remember, ANY frustration or annoyance or upset counts. 

Meaning Ladybug and Chat will be having their hands full with the Waynes until they leave.

And given that Hawk Moth comes up with the silliest costumes and powers...

...the others would never let them live it down.

...

It was a beautiful day in Paris. And an absolutely wonderful vacation to the City of Love, where everything was peaceful and nothing was wrong.

Dick stood at the window looking out over the city.

Tim was on his computer doing some reports. Possibly Wayne Enterprises work, but more likely mission work.

Damien had apparently gotten tired of grumbling and was focused on sharpening his sword—which Bruce really shouldn’t have let him bring. But given the situation, he couldn’t argue against letting Damien have something that would help him stay calm.

Cass had found a magazine to occupy her time, though she seemed somewhat confused as to the male teen model that kept appearing in nearly every line.

And Jason…

…he was grinning. And watching Bruce with such anticipation, looking downright hopeful as he waited. Not helping was that he was holding what appeared to be a brand new camera, fully prepared to start recording.

Bruce knew why.

But he would not give him the satisfaction.

Because nothing was going to happen.

Absolutely nothing.

Bruce twitched.

SNAP!

And his pen cracked from the sheer amount of pressure he was putting on it. Which was admittedly an annoyance, but wasn’t that big of a deal…

…if it wasn’t the 15th pen he’d broken in the past three hours.

It was fine though.

Nothing was wrong.

He was calm.

Calm.

Calm.

A muffled voice could be heard from outside despite the room being on the seventh floor of a building. Which of course was a coincidence and not because someone was actually right outside the room….and the building.

And perhaps if Bruce tried really hard, he could convince himself was just someone singing a line out of “American Pie” and not someone talking about butterflies.

No.

Because there were no butterflies outside. Because he was fine!

Not the slightest bit upset!

At. All.

“That’s thirty-three…” Dick counted.

…

…

…

…Dammit.

Bruce sighed.

“Did she come back to the roof?”

“Actually, she never left.” Tim confirmed, not even looking up from his computer. “She stopped leaving after the last incident and has just been standing there for the past couple hours now, catching them as they come.”

A long pause.

“How…?”

“Her partner has been bringing her water and snacks. And keeping watch whenever she has to leave to hibernate or use the little bug’s room.”

Bruce groaned.

Why couldn’t it be a villain? Or a fan or stalker? He could deal with those. He dealt with them all the time.

It was the well intentioned young superheroes that he had a harder time dealing with. The ones that wanted to help but were misguided in not understanding that their help wasn’t necessary.

“Gotcha!”

“Thirty-four.” Dick droned.

…no matter how many magical butterflies implied otherwise.

“Maybe we should do what the nice Ladybug hero asked and finish up our business in Paris?” Tim suggested.

“I refuse!” Damien shouted, jumping to his feet. “This villain has made a mockery of us and it must not be allowed to stand! I will not leave until he has been caught and my sword has tasted his blood!”

“Damien, we don’t kill, remember?”

“I wouldn’t kill him.” Damien said, looking away with a pout. “Just…dismember him a bit.” He frowned, consideringly. “Maybe cut off his arms. He can’t continue villainy then, right?”

Tim sighed.

“So that’s a no on going home early then.”

They heard a noise from the roof.

“Is she leaving?” Bruce asked, trying to hide how hopeful he was.

“Nope. It’s her catboyfriend back again.” Dick replied, blithely.

Bruce sighed.

“Do you think they’re dating?”

“Dick.” Bruce warned.

“Because the city seems to be really hamming up the romantic angle between the two and it’s kinda hard to not see.” Dick continued. 

“Dick.”

“Even if it is kinda weird that they’re essentially shipping teenagers.”

“Speaking from experience there, Dickie Boy?” Jason cut in, cheekily.

“Stop it. Both of you.” Bruce ordered. “The goal of coming to Paris was supposed to be to deal with the emotional terrorism from Hawk Moth.”

“A little hard with all your emotional constipation there, B.”

Jason smirked.

“Or should I say ‘Justice Man’?”

Bruce twitched.

[sinnerdolly]

The chosen bride — Viking!Barou Shouei.

Minors do not interact. Nsfw/Smut.

word counter—2381.

Plot—you're a French noblewoman that was forced to marry the barbarian king Barou. He seems to look at you like the most delicious peace of meat, would you fall for that abrasive sexual tension you both have?

warning— rough sex, oral sex, breeding kink, arranged marriage. Y/n's is short and has huge boobs.

English isn't my mother language, if you see any error you're welcome to correct me.

Since I was little, my father repeated over and over again in my ears: "You can't imagine the future I chose for you". Of course, until I was twenty-two I had nothing left to do but fantasize about the meaning of it, because he claimed that he didn't want to make my sisters jealous.

I was immensely disappointed when I found out the truth: here I was engaged to a barbarian king who examined me as if I were an insect. His smug gaze fell on my breasts and then on my hips.

“I’ll keep her” Just like that King Barou sentenced my destiny to be his wife.

The nobles around him seemed not to like the idea very much, one of them dared to speak and told him something in Nordic, a language that Chigiri not long ago began to teach me.

“Her hips are thick, her breasts are huge, and her skin is pink. Lady D'angelo seems much more fertile than all our women, whoever challenges me again will clean their own blood from the stone under my feet.”

Chigiri and I exchanged glances, the comment would have been about my uneven appearance compared to the Viking women. I was not tall and slender, my height was no more than five feet six and my dresses had to be custom-made because my breasts did not fit into any corset, something that my future husband seemed to enjoy.

King Barou was immense, with pronounced features and black hair that fell straight and long almost to his shoulders. The way he sat was menacing: legs spread, back leaning on the wooden throne… the aura around him conveyed danger, while every word that came out of his mouth was equivalent to the roar of a lion. In my years as a noblewoman, being the daughter of the advisor to the king of France, I had never witnessed anything like this. What lay before me was not a king, but a beast.

The beast's eyes sharpened on Chigiri as soon as he caught our exchange of glances.

“Who is that?”

All eyes turned to Chigiri, my father cleared his throat softly and answered: “He is my daughter's mentor, he will stay by her side to teach her to speak your language, my lord.”

My heart seemed to skip a beat when I saw that Barou didn't take his eyes off him.

“I'm going to be the one who teaches her, I want him outside my kingdom.”

Chigiri did not give me a single look, I knew what was going on in his head, just one look could confirm Barou's suspicions. The man I am in love with did not speak to me again... not even when he left in the carriage with my father, not even knowing that we would never see each other again.

[ … ]

The days in my new home were a torment, only the court and my fiancé speak my language, but they are not very pleasant people to talk to. So the days are summarized in reading and rereading the ten books that I managed to bring with me. The rooms that correspond to me are immense and opulent considering how rustic this country is, it is clear that they tried to make it as similar as possible to France, a cute detail if they wouldn’t constantly ignore me.

My loneliness and smallness allowed me to sneak far to inspect the castle. I was like a weirdo in their eyes, I have the feeling that they see me as a rabbit, the ladies look at me with disdain, incredulous that a man of Barou's lineage would want to marry me... while the servants look at me with pity and try to guide me, even without speaking the same language.

“Fuck” I murmured, I had gotten lost between massive rock walls.

“What are you doing in my chambers area?”

My skin crawled hearing such a harsh voice speak such rough French. I turned around slowly, in front of me stood my fiancé, with whom I had not exchanged a word since they abandoned me here. His proud and unreadable countenance as always, serene could also be called.

“I got lost” The nerves gnawed at me in such a way that my voice came out with a repressed and insecure tone through my throat. Seeing his intense gaze I was forced to look away immediately, something that had never happened to me before with a man, not even Chigiri.

His eyes swept me from head to toe, when, suddenly, his immense figure cornered me against the stone. My heart pumped harder, I couldn't breathe, it was as if a lion was about to devour me... does he want to consummate our treaty? I wouldn't be surprised if these barbarians raped me when I am alone and vulnerable, who cares about me after all? My father and Chigiri clearly don't.

“My subjects don't treat you well?”

I looked up slowly, finding an expression other than arrogant, he seemed worried and upset, his body over mine like a protective barrier. It would be a lie to say that I wasn't stunned by this sudden statement on his part.

“I asked you a question”

I considered his words for a moment, if his consideration for me was so great... accusing them before this barbarian was not a bad option, but perhaps not the most astute.

“N-no, my lord.” I lied, the nervousness that this man caused me was of unimaginable proportions.

That penetrating gaze went down through my eyes to my neck and breasts, I watched his jaw tense and his pupils dilate, his chest and pulse seemed to run at a faster pace under the furs he was wearing. I smiled a little and, although I tried to hide it, it didn't take a second for his eyes to catch it.

“Do you dare to make fun of me?”

He uttered the words indignantly, but with an intensity that indicated that any misstep would result in her getting her pussy fucked... What the fuck am I thinking? He is a barbarian.

“Not at all… it's just that the king seems to have certain marked tastes.”

Where had that come from? I didn't even know it, but my soul seemed ecstatic to provoke this beast. Even he was surprised, his irises turned dark and he licked his lips.

“My tastes don't matter, I chose you because your curves are the most fertile I have ever seen.”

That sentence sparked a fire that spread through every leaf of my being, there was something primal about that sentence that burned away every iota of perceived masculinity in my life. I wanted to be in his bed, I needed him to fill me, my blood boiled as if it were witchcraft... What was this sudden infatuation that was corroding my insides?

⌈ Barou ⌋

I was not attracted to the women of my kingdom and that for a king is a big problem. Every week several Jarls arrived and offered their daughters as lovers or wives, but none of them sparked my interest, none seemed worthy of bearing my offspring.

It wasn't until a certain French king had a crisis and he proposed to me for the hand of one of his ladies in exchange for some riches. At the beginning, a deal that I accepted out of courtesy, I had no interest in dirtying Viking blood... until I saw her enter through the door and my eyes became ecstatic at such a sign from the Gods. My cock grew hard, the need to lay her on the floor and spill the first load inside her gnawing at me... but her expression of sadness and terror calmed my instincts.

“Are you sure you didn't choose me out of desire?”

It was amazing that her gorgeous features could show such a lascivious expression like the one she wore now. The little Frenchwoman was trying my patience, she provoked me as if days ago she had not cried in horror for marrying a barbarian. It was incredible, after being forced to watch the door to her chambers every night because I believed she would escape from it... I had her in front of me eager to be taken.

I grabbed her neck roughly, without hurting her or putting pressure on her, for a moment she seemed scared. Her contact with her third skin made it hard instantly, since she was in the castle she had not been flaccid. I moved closer to her throat and breathed in her heady European perfume.

"The only thing I thought was that your pussy would look gorgeous dripping with my cum..." I licked her chin during the pause.

I could feel her heart pumping uncontrollably and how her body was not able to stand on its own. As I stood up again, her eyes begged me to take her, so I decided it was time to claim my queen. I carried her over my shoulder without much effort, something that alarmed her a little, because she began to struggle and demand that I get off her, something that a spanking can't solve. When my hand hit her ass, she let out a cry of surprise mixed with a moan. I laughed at that reaction, to which she hit my shoulder, an act that caused me to laugh even harder.

When I got to my chambers I threw her on my bed, she looked at me with reddened cheeks and pupils flooded with lust. I let the furs that rested on my shoulders fall and easily removed the shirt that covered my torso, y/n bit her lip and she uncomfortably brought her thighs together when she saw me. I smiled proudly, took her left ankle and pulled it towards me.

I grabbed her neck again and devoured her full lips with need for her. She did not hesitate to follow as she seemed to share my blinded state. My hand forcefully lowered her neckline, I freed those puppies tortured by the devilish corset, I couldn't resist the urge to lick and bite them, the gasps I stole from her mouth were the hottest thing I had ever heard.

[ Reader ]

I was screwed, but I couldn't help but give in. What other option did I have but to enjoy the pleasures this beast offered? The desire for me consumed him, I wasn't going to be so stupid as to reject the wet dream of every woman living or dead.

His tongue soaked every corner of my exposed skin and, upon reaching my thigh area, he tore off my panties and licked fervently between my folds. No man had done that before, the barbarian was devouring me as my premonitions said... but in an intoxicating way. Saliva slid and dripped onto the sheets; even when my legs threatened to close, Barou sucked harder on my clitoris.

After I came in his mouth, he emerged from between my thighs with the look of a hungry lion cornering its prey. He licked his lips and swallowed any residual orgasm fluid as his baggy black leather pants fell to the frigid floor. My eyes focused on his thick member, precum glistened on his glans and veins revealed how massive he is. Even knowing that he would get me pregnant on the first try, I begged him to put it inside right now.

"You are aware that if I take you now I won't stop until your uterus overflows... are you sure you want to continue?" His words were abrupt, but I couldn't help but nod. “Let's continue then.”

He opened my thighs firmly and looked voraciously, while his thumb opened my wet folds.

“You're ready”

Suddenly, he turned me around like a feather, my cheek against the pillow and my hips raised. I could feel the heat of his body approaching mine from behind, his giant hands held my waist in place, the anxiety was something to savor at that moment. His glans made its way between my walls, the stretch turned my eyes to the sky, every inch I managed to take felt searing, but so satisfying.

A guttural moan echoed from every corner of the room as his pelvis collided for the first time against the skin of my ass. Stiff and throbbing I had engulfed him completely inside me, my pussy lubricated him so much I could feel the fluids sliding down my thighs, the bed would be a mess after we were done. The thrusts were gentle at first, as if the beast king was looking for my limits, scared of my size compared to him; still, each entry was precise, the most sensitive points were rubbed masterfully and the pitch of my gasps increased. But, although the consistency felt delicious, my patience has an end and I needed him to completely let go of that bestiality that he displayed so much.

“Fuck, harder, idiot.”

To deny that the utterance of those words was somewhat violent would be a lie, but this man's anger was not justifiable. In an instant my hair was pulled and my pussy was being brutally attacked, the moans turned into screams which, in turn, I couldn't hear because the pleasure overrode all my senses. I knew I wouldn't last long at this pace, I could feel his smirk as he saw me unstable and completely fucked.

I almost lost consciousness as the orgasm consumed my body, all I could think about was his cum spilling inside me. I felt so much peace, so much satisfaction, I was no longer interested in France, Chigiri or my family, I was happy being fucked in his bed.

⌈ Barou ⌋

Her recently fertilized pussy was tensing, in a poor attempt to spill my semen, to which I took her hips to put them in a position that my load was directly towards her cervix, with my fingers I collected the spilled semen and sank them slowly inside her warm folds freshly abused by my cock.

My queen looked at me somewhat dazed and confused by the deafening orgasm I had given her, to which I smiled proudly and satisfied.

“Until your belly grows, your pussy is going to be stuffed every night.”

[carmybears]

Flirting with Knives

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: a fluffy little vignette about cooking with your new boyfriend, except he tries to turn it into a cooking lesson

word count: 900

“I cannot keep watching this.”

You snort, biting back the smile that is tugging at your lips as you continue dicing the onion sitting on the cutting board in front of you.

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Carmy. And besides,” you throw a glance over your shoulder. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t judge me.”

Your relationship with Carmy was new. As in text each other all night, gossip to your best friend about him, and generally spend every waking moment thinking about when you’d get to see him next kind of new. It was the intoxicating stage in the relationship where you pretty much wanted to have your hands on him at all times, but also still panicked about the state of your apartment whenever he stopped by. All in all, it made you feel like you were about sixteen years old again. But every time your eyes met his, you could feel yourself getting caught up in a flurry of butterflies and you wouldn’t change a thing.

Tonight, you were cooking for him for the first time. You’d pulled out a recipe for cherry balsamic glazed pork chops and thyme roasted potatoes that you had made enough times before to know that it was reliably delicious and easy enough for you to make without making a fool of yourself in front of Food and Wine’s Best New Chef.

That said, cutting onions can be a bitch and your knife was fucking dull.

“I’m not judging, I swear!” There was laughter in Carmy’s voice as he sidles up behind you, putting his hands on your hips. “Could I just maybe give you a few pointers?”

With an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you set the knife down on the cutting board and step aside. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy steps up to the kitchen counter, taking up the onion in one hand and the knife in the other. His voice is gentle as he explains to you how best to position your hand as you hold the onion and then pantomimes the cuts he is going to make. It isn’t until he presses the blade to the vegetable that he curses under his breath.

“Jesus Christ babe, when’d you last sharpen this thing?” The shock on his face is palpable as he looks at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging agape. It’s kind of hilarious.

“So…” You draw out the syllable as long as you can before you make your confession. “I might not have a knife sharpener.”

If you thought he looked outraged before, you’d be mistaken.

“You wound me, you know that?”

You tilt your head back and laugh.

“Absolutely fuckin’ ridiculous. I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

You reach for him, your fingertips barely grazing the waffled sleeve of his Henley shirt as he turns on his heel and crosses into your living room, where his backpack lays in a heap on the floor.

“Carmen, baby, what are you talking about?”

He unzips the bag and pulls out a neatly tied roll of fabric. “I’m talking about this.”

“Are those your knives?!” You exclaim. “Do you always take those everywhere with you? Or should I be afraid?”

“Well yeah, I take them with me over here because I usually end up going straight from your bed to the restaurant,” he reasons, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “And the only thing you should be scared of is losing a damn finger to those dull knives of yours.”

He lays the roll out flat on your kitchen counter and pulls out an incredibly sharp knife, setting it on the cutting board.

“Now, we’re going to finish making dinner and then tomorrow night I’m coming over and sharpening all of your knives.”

“Is that your idea of foreplay?”

He smirks then, that little dimple forming in his cheek, but very pointedly does not answer your question. You decide to take that as a yes.

You take Carmy’s knife up in one hand and the onion up in the other, arranging your fingers in almost the same way you had seen him do it. “So, like this?”

“Um, not quite.” He curls his hand up into a claw and demonstrates. “You want to curl your fingertips down under a little more.”

You mimic what you see. “Better?”

“No, um, let me…” He comes around to your other side and places his hand over yours, gently positioning your fingers into place. As he works on perfecting your technique, you look up at him, study the way his brow furrows in concentration. You rock back in your heels just enough to feel the press of his broad chest against your shoulder. A feeling like electricity courses through you, and you’re not entirely sure that you’re all that hungry anymore – not with your favorite chef on the menu.

“Y’know, Chef, you should probably just put your arms around me. I’m not sure I can cut these onions all by myself.”

He pauses what he's doing and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his body. His lips are pressed against the bare skin at the base of your neck and you feel a puff of warm air as he laughs lightly into your skin. When he speaks, his voice is low in your ear, giving you goosebumps. “Are you flirting with me, chef?”

[inkskinned]

before all this, she and i were putting on makeup, sitting in the glow of my sunlamp. december 29th, 2019.

“it’s going to be my year of yes,” she said. she was putting powder on with a brush. “i’m going to be okay, god help me.”

before this, i was organized. i used to have 3 calendars, all synced to each other, all color coded. one was aspirational - what i would “like” to do. full of facebook events and friend meetups and hypotheticals.

today it sent me an alert from my past self: hi! it’s me. wherever we are, i hope we are happy.

before all of this, i braided her hair. i told her my new year’s resolution was to be a worrisome force of fury. an applied rage. i said: “picture a raccoon that’s seven feet tall and just learned how to operate heavy machinery.” 

before all of this, i was holding his hand in the hospital. “i couldn’t do it,” he said. “i failed even at dying.”

before all of this, the thing i was chronically, horribly, perpetually good at: surviving. every fucked up situation, i would cockroach my way out of, no matter how many times life tried to bowl me over. i was roadkill for so long i like the feeling of being sunburned. death couldn’t keep me so i kept myself. 

and i will be a meteor if i must. i will be the burning house. i will be the spat tooth. i will love you like before even if the sun is new tomorrow. what’s more, i will love you harder - i will love you like a bloodied lung. i will love you like scissors. i will love you like glass loves breaking and i will love you like throats love howling. i will love you like tremor and i will love you like sharpened knife.

i will love you like the only thing we are both good at is surviving, and we are both damn good at surviving. 

before all this, she was zipping up my dress for me. “that’s the thing about happy,” she said. “sometimes it takes a little fighting.”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

A Poor Imitation

or, Kiv's first memory

cw: violence, dehumanization, adult language

T$$ AU Masterlist

°•°

noise buzzes in its ears.

vibrations in the air, sound above, shifting in intensity and length and pitch, starting and stopping and gapping as it lays on the floor, curled in on itself, shivering. (Arms wrapped around curled legs. A body, it is a body. Is it more?)

sight sharpens, and it can see the noises are coming from other bodies (people). Some of the sounds they make are shaped like the things in its head, bouncing around, known, but too new to make sense of (words).

one of the forms above it is familiar in a way that dizzies, spinning what's already spinning in its head. echoes of something unnamed. things clawing at its gut, dark and tangling and churning (recognition, recollection, fear). This familiar figure gives it a kick, and the body on the floor cringes and curls in tighter, impact radiating through it unpleasantly, lingering.

Its (his) face curls in a way that is different from the cowering body, the seam near the bottom (mouth) twisting (sneering). He (is the body a he too?) rests his foot on the body's hip, and their eyes meet. The mouth opens.

“Get up.”

It (he?) takes some time to understand the words, to connect them with the shadows of knowledge that drift through its (his) head. Get up. The body needs to… to do what the other bodies are doing, to stand, if he can figure out how.

He tests fingers, rolls shoulders, pushes on the ground to move torso and hips over knees. The flesh shivers as he moves, and the body can't tell if it's because it's all too open, exposed (cold, the other figures are covered in things that look soft and clinging, things the body doesn't have), or if there's something under skin that shakes with weakness as he tries to get his legs under him.

The struggle to his feet feels like the kick, but different. A pressure in the body's chest, a burning agitation. He knows he's supposed to be stronger. 

The familiar figure watches as the body stands, letting out a hmm. 

“Spitting image,” he mutters.

“We promise the highest quality for our customers,” says the other figure.

“No memories?”

“None, sir. He'll have similar… instincts to yours. Habits and the like, but that can't be helped when we used your brain as a model.”

The familiar figure (sir? the body can recognize it as a sort of name, though something about it rings unpleasant) curls his mouth up on one end.

“Similar instincts, hm? Let's see how close you got.” He takes a half step back, his form shifting in a way the body senses as a threat.

The other figure puts their hands up. “We don't recommend—”

It's too late. Sir’s arm reels back, hand curling into a denser shape, rocketing forward to slam into the body's jaw before he even has time to make sense of it.

His legs give out, heat exploding in his mouth, blurring, burning, a sharpness echoing through his skull. This is pain, he realizes as he hits the ground. It sparks another feeling in his chest, a fire that rivals how it hurts, an anger. His face burns. His eyes sting.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sir says. “It's crying.”

“Everything's still new. His senses will be, well, sensitive. I really think you should—”

Sir's foot buries itself in the body's abdomen, and he lets out a cry that sounds so… so nauseating to his ears, sickened to know he's the one making it, but he can't stop himself, he can't help it, it hurts.

“Get. Up.”

The body struggles to obey, unable to shake a sense of wrong. It shouldn't hurt this much, he should be better, he should be able to—

Sir's fist shoots out again, and the body doesn't move quick enough to dodge it, takes a dizzying hit to the cheekbone. Sir follows him to the floor, hands on his shoulders, holding him down, and he struggles against it, knows to hate it, knows he doesn't belong on the ground like this, doesn't belong beneath.

“Look at you,” Sir says in a voice that sounds… not angry, not sick… disgusted. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected more than this. A poor imitation.” He pats the body's cheek, and it doesn't hurt, but it still feels bad. A motion to mark him as… as lesser.

“Should be enough to fool the bots. Good thing that's all I really need it for.”

Something in his tone, his dismissal, sets the anger in the body's chest to boiling. He lashes out with a cry, curling his own hand, connecting with Sir's face in a way that widens his eyes and snaps his head.

It feels… good. The burning in his ribcage, on his skin, running together to create something physical, something satisfying.

The feeling doesn't last long.

The body tries to throw Sir off, but his muscles are weak and shaking and protesting the effort.

Sir, a little rumbling sound pouring from his mouth (laughing, laughing at you), pins his wrists.

“What do you know? Maybe it's not all disappointment.”

The body struggles against the hands, the restraint, the frustration at being held down with such ease building into a wordless cry. It's answered with a blow. Sir balls up his hand and strikes the body in the face, again and again until the room is blurring around him and his head hurts so bad and his eyes burn. This is pain, and it's covering him, drowning him. He doesn't know what to do with so much of it.

A hand closes around his throat, rough on skin, pressure on muscle. And it hurts, but more than that, it squeezes a new fear through him. A sharp and terrible panic as he's suddenly stopped from inhaling, an instinct he didn't even realize was present until it was unable to be acted on.

“Look at me.”

His eyes don't want to open, don't want to focus. He doesn't want to obey.

The hand on his throat squeezes tighter. “Look at me.”

He does. There's a heavy taste in his mouth, hot and salty and strange. It makes him want to retch.

“You have one purpose.”

His voice won't answer. He just stares, panic rising higher, wetness on his cheeks.

“You're a decoy. Your job is to run. Run and never get caught. Mhm?” 

Mhm. Yes. Affirmative. The answer Sir is looking for is plain to understand, but it's a different word that's rising in the body's throat.

Please.

He's not sure he understands that one. It's not a proper answer, not a demand, it's… it's something weak. Something he feels he shouldn't say, but his lips won't stop forming it, no sound escaping his closed-off airway.

Sir's lip curls up. “Fucking pathetic.” 

The hand releases and air returns to the body in a rush of relief. For a moment, all he can do is breathe, quick and desperate, like his lungs are afraid the privilege will be stolen again.

Sir's weight lifts, leaving the body feeling… something. More anger. A need he can't name, the urge to feel that fleeting satisfaction that came with the blow he dealt.

“Complete your task and you may earn the right to die kindly,” Sir says. “Fail it and the pain you're feeling now will seem like a mercy in comparison.”

Run. His task to run. If failing to run gets him a hurt that's worse, he can't fail. He can't picture worse. Worse is a vague and terrifying shadow in his head. He'll succeed to outrun it. He'll succeed because he knows he's better than pathetic, better than anything he's shown today.

Sir turns his back on the body then, addressing the other figure. “I assume I’ll need to fill out paperwork before leaving?”

“Just a little for our records,” they reply.

“Then let's get on with it. I have a bounty to get rid of.”

Their eyes widen some, in an expression that might be fear. Fear, but… lesser. Fear of what? Of Sir? The body might understand that.

“You… you aren't planning on sending him off right away, are you?”

Sir scoffs. “I'll give it a better briefing first. And some clothes.”

“We recommend you give your clone a two-week acclimation period to adjust to life before sending him on any—”

“My clone. This is urgent. I'll handle it how I want to.”

A breath slips out of the other figure. “I… alright. Let's get the paperwork done. What are you going to call him?”

Sir scowls. “It doesn't need a name. Probably be dead within the week anyway.” He starts to walk away, but the other blocks his path. He doesn't hit them.

“It's for our records. You need to name him.”

Sir pauses, staring at the figure for a moment. He doesn't once look back at the body.

“Kiv,” he says at last. “Call it Kiv.”

•°•

T$$ General Tag:

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes

[starcrossedreaders]

Work Song

Authors Note: This is a part 2 for a request I did. Here is part one, I highly suggest you read it before you read part 2! Part 1. This one is going to be a long one. Thank you so much @aussiepineapple1st for all of the help for this second part, Enjoy!

Taglist: @umooooo74

Warnings: Surgery, Mentions of death, mentions of suicidal thoughts, sad coming home, angst no comfort

Leon could hear your soft voice fill the room as your fat tears dripped down his arm. He wishes he could just open his eyes, for one moment he just wants to see you, touch you, and tell you that everything is going to be okay, but his body had different plans.

"I-I'm so-so-sorry, Leon," The tears would not stop coming and it broke his heart into a million pieces.

"I'm sorry Leon, I wanted to get away. Just another way to feel what I didn't want myself to know and let myself go. I know, you didn't lose your self-control like I did. Let's start at the rainbow," He could feel your cold hand slide into his. Your hands are always cold, it was a normal occurrence for you to stick your hands under his shirt while he did paperwork. Normally it would be a annoyance to him but now he wish your hands could bring him out of his deep slumber.

He tried everything in his power to at least squeeze your hand as you spoke to the doctors.

"So, have you made a decision? I'm not trying to rush you but the faster we get him into the operating room the better chance he has at surviving,"

There was a almost dramatic pause before you spoke up again while you squeezed his hand. "We're going to try the surgery." Dr. Smith said a few things before she left the room.

Leon tried to wiggle his toes in hopes to work up to squeezing your hand. He had promised himself that he would try one more time. Once the door clicked shut he tried once last time. His muscles spasmed out as he gave you a very weak squeeze. He did it, he actually managed to squeeze your hand. High on his recent victory he tried again, this time the squeeze was just a little bit stronger. He heard your body shuffle to his as you leaned onto his body.

"Leon! Oh my god, you're here.....holy shit you're here," Your head laid against his chest as hot tears feel from your eyes once again.

"Listen to me, and listen good," If he could he would be rolling his eyes as he laughs at your seriousness.

"You are going to come out of this surgery alive. You hear me, alive. I won't take it any other way. Please give me a chance to apologize to you when you're awake....please," Your voice strained the further you got along in your speech.

Leon would make it out alive, no matter what, he will come back to you, no matter what.

A few hours passed and the sun began to peak over the horizon casting an orange hue on Leon's unconscious form. His features seemed to sharpen under the new lighting. Your voice had trailed off slowly as the hours past. You were re-telling anything and everything about your relationship with Leon. From the first time you saw him to the latest argument. Purple bags had started to form under your eyes as your soft snores were muffled by Leon's chest.

Birds started to sing their good mornings to their partners, it reminded Leon when he would roll over in the early hours of the morning and whisper sweet nothings into your hair. He wanted nothing more then to do that right now.

The door clicked open as a few doctors walked into the room. Sitting up you quickly brush the hair out of your face as you put a smile on and greet each of them.

The surgeon explained what the operation was, how it would be done, how long it would take, and even got into the risks; which seemed to outweigh the pros.

You felt your heart sink as you thought about everything that could go wrong, but alas, you still shook your head as you signed Leon's life away.

Within a few short moments, Leon was being rolled out to the operation room. The wheels groaned as they carried his heavy body to the room where his life would be at stake. You could do nothing more but pace the room and pull your hair. Dr. Smith tried numerous times to get you home, but you couldn't. This one 14-hour surgery had just begun. You had to be here to get the updates. Eventually, your pacing turned into a nap on the visitor's chair. By the 3rd hour, there had been no updates on Leon.

Leon couldn't feel anything, but the beeping machines had kept his brain going. His heart was at a steady beat as tools were pasted over his body.

"Do you see that?"

"Yea... is that the...virus?"

"I think so sir,"

The surgeon let out a curt nod before they turned around from Leon's body and started to take his gloves off.

Your head nodded off as your heavy eyelids fell over your bloodshot eyes. Your head landed on the wall behind you with a solid 'thump' before the door opened.

Jolting up at the sudden intrusion you scanned the room to find the surgeon with his head gear still on.

"Ah L/N, sorry to wake you, I was coming to check up on you and to update you on Leon's current state," You shot out of your chair upon hearing his words.

"Is he okay?"

"I'm afraid not..."

"Wha-" Your legs were starting to shake as your brain raked through all of the things that could have gone wrong.

"I'm afraid he's not going to make it,"

"No..." Ringing filled your ears as your heart shattered. Every little piece fell to your feet, one by one.

The male's voice was muffled as he gave his condolences and stepped out. Time seemed to speed up and slow down all at once. Small laughs bubbled out of you as you shook your head in disbelief.

"He's not dead. Leon is stronger than that, I know my boyfriend," Your hands pulled at the roots of your head as paced the white room. Laughing to yourself you uttered nonsense about your recent lover's death.

Walking over to the chair felt like you were floating, upon sitting down the severity of the situation finally hit you head-on. A locked-up sob racked through your body before you choked out a cry.

"God no please let this be a sick cruel joke." You knew better than that, healthcare workers had no right to be so insensitive in a situation like this. But still, you prayed out to whatever god would listen that a miracle would happen.

You rocked yourself back and forth as your bawled in your hands. Your tears dropped down into the Earth's core, naturing those you have passed and now your beloved.

Leon could still hear the annoying beepings and murmured voices but past all of that, the memory of your guy's first date played for him. His eye's darted from side to side under his closed lids as the memory played out.

When Leon had taken you out for dinner he was on a 3-day drunken sin. He could care less about the slight fever he had as his sweaty fist knocked on your door. If it weren't for the text you sent him the night before he would have forgotten about the whole night ahead of him. When you opened the door he thought he was dreaming.

Once the late hours of the night rolled in you guys sat in his drawing shapes from the fogged windows. All Leon could think about was your soft sweet lips against his. Leon doubt he could find a thing as sweet as you. You had given him a toothache just from kissing him.

When he moved on to his special agent duties, so did your relationship. You had spent long nights worrying for his safety. Whenever he came home, you would love and nature, Leon, hoping his broken stems would grow beautiful flowers again. You had never asked him about the wrong he had done, you never fret none about what his hands and body had done. He knew if the lord never forgave him his baby would at least. Every time he would come back all bruised and beat you would put your love down soft and sweet. Leon was free in those long periods of bliss.

Leon's line of work had been a main point of many discussions for friends, family, and even between yourselves. He had voiced the concept that he'll never be able to rest till the world is free of its atrocities and those who have created them. In the same sense, he refuses to go down easily and won't rest till he has said his goodbyes and departed this world on his own terms. So, when he brought up the topic of how he wanted to be buried and celebrated you never really listened.

"Baby, are you listening to me? When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth."

You could see the picture crystal clear, Leon's grave blooming with everything he has done for this world, giving it all back in the form of nature. Small forget-me-not's would bloom in great big bushes between great big lilies alongside tall strong daffodils. His tombstone would say "In Loving Memory of Leon Scott Kennedy. A man who would do anything for others. He lived and died a Special Agent, protecting his Country." Despite his jokes about wanting one of his infamous one-liners instead.

Your brain went into auto-pilot as you signed a dozen of papers and drove yourself home. The house was cold and dark without your partner. The clank of your keys and thumps of your heavy steps brought you out of your trance as you stood in the middle of your foyer. Everything about him was gone, even down to his shoes. A lump in your throat began to form the longer you looked at his supposed place for his shoes.

Walking further into the living room reminisces of the night before flashed between your vision. The lump in your throat slowly moved up. How could you be so cruel to him when you knew that could have been the last time you'll see him. Disgusted with yourself, you rushed to your shared room. Blankets were thrown across the bed as the sheets wrinkled in their unkept spot. The scent of his cologne smacked you in the face as you walked over to his side of the bed. Sitting down your hand soothed out the wrinkles as stare off.

The days seemed to mush together as you spent every waking hour in bed. When the sun was shining you were sleeping, and when the moon's light cascaded in your cold lonely bed you were weeping. Your phone had been dead for the past 3 days and your family was starting to worry. Any attempt to help you was futile, your spark of life was gone. You wanted to join Leon in his adventure to serenity, maybe then you guys will be able to live out a peaceful life with no troubles of life.

Sighing you rolled out of bed as you shuffled to your bathroom. Upon removing your hand from rubbing your face the reflection that looked back at you was horrifying. Dark bags lined each eye, you hair was knotted, and your complexation was pale, you looked like a zombie. You were quick to turn away, as you go to turn the shower on. The cold metal of the handle bit at your hand as you twisted it all the way to the left. Your hands trailed down to take your sleeping shorts off before you heard your front door creak open.

Your hands ghost over the band of your shorts as you turn your head. Waiting a few moments you the house went quiet again. You had to be hearing things, clearly you weren't in the right state of mind right now. Your shorts made it about half way down your legs before you heard footsteps. You rushed to pull them up as you rushed to find a weapon.

When you moved in with Leon he had showed you how you could use anything as a weapon. The main thing he pointed out when you guys made it to the bathroom was: "The toilet lid will be your best option, it's heavy and reliable if you have a good grip."

You were quick to pull the lid off as your gripped it just how he showed you. Walking out of the bathroom you kept your knee slightly bent to lower your body as you walked with one foot in-front of the other. Heavy footsteps neared your room, quickly you stood behind your door as they got louder.

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath in and opened them on the exhale. You had cursed yourself for not double checking the locks, and keeping your doors wide open. Raising the lid over your shoulder you watched as a tall broad body made their way through the door. You knew you were royally fucked when you saw his muscle strain through his compressed shirt.

He blond hair swayed with each calculated step. Before he could make it any further you let out a piercing scream before you swung for his head. The lid was sure to hit him right on, deeming him unconscious as you ran for help; that was the plan anyway. The male was quick to twist his body as his hand caught the lid.

Before you could scream you paused when you saw his face.

Leon.

It was Leon.

No, it couldn't be.

He was...

dead?

"Leon?" Your arms slowly dropped with the lid still in your hands.

"Are you trying to land me in the hospital again?" Your bottom lip quivered as you rushed to him.

Your arms wrapped around his body, dropping the porcelain lid. You tucked your head in-between his chest as his scent flooded your nose. He's here. He's here and alive, you couldn't believe it.

A sob racked through your body as he wrapped his arms back around.

"I'm here, I'm right here, no need to cry," He rubbed your back as he rocked your bodies back and forth.

You guys stood like that for a long while, he pressed kissed into your hair as he whispered sweet nothings into your head.

"No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to you." You lifted your head to press your lips against his.

This one kiss is what you craved, what you needed. His head tilted down to yours slowly but surly getting ready to press his lips against yours.

Your eyes locked with his as his breath fanned over your lips. Before you lips could finally lock together a distant ringing filled the room.

Snapping your head towards to direction of the noise your eyes fluttered open as your phone continued to ring.

It was a dream. A sick cruel dream that your mind played for you. You watched as your phone finished ringing before you curled up on your side and began to cry.

"When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth."