#it makes perfect sense that one's brain might be kind of busy and slightly overwhelmed while creating an action small human

[historicity-was-already-taken]

"haha sorry pregnancy brain!" i say after sending a barely comprehensible professional email

(after i got the book deal my best friend threw me a Book Shower. According to her, I am currently crowning.)

[liron-ao3]

Happy birthday, Alexander

A Malec Oneshot 🔞

Having your birthday on a Sunday has its perks. You can sleep in, have a relaxed breakfast in bed, can cuddle with your partner for hours. Okay, you might have to interrupt it for all the birthday calls, but really, no one can drag you out of bed if you don't want to.

And Alec definitely doesn't.

The bed is empty beside him, but he can hear Magnus puttering about in the kitchen. He probably has bought Alec's favourite chocolate cake from the Parisian patisserie they had their first overseas date at. Or maybe he conjures up a French toast feast or Belgian waffles. Alec scents the air, but the bedroom is too far away from the kitchen to smell what Magnus might be up to.

It doesn't matter anyway. Alec is already in high spirits. This is their day, painstakingly shovelled out of their busy schedules. It's one of many things that Magnus has taught him. It's important to take time for the things you care about. And caring about their husband, both of them do.

There are footsteps and the sound of quietly clacking dishes coming through the open bedroom door, and it doesn't take long for Magnus to appear in it, a delicately filled breakfast tray in hand, red rose and all. He wears the maroon dressing gown that Alec loves so much on him and the warmest smile that still elicits tiny butterflies in Alec's stomach. This man is his, and Alec is the luckiest guy in the world.

"Good morning, Alexander."

Alec smiles back at him. "Good morning, love."

Magnus puts the tray on the bedside table and leans in for a languid kiss that makes Alec's blood rush south. By the Angels! Magnus is such a good kisser.

Alec pulls Magnus on top of him, and then they make out for long minutes, only shortly interrupted by a snap of Magnus' fingers to keep their coffees and oven-fresh pains au chocolat warm.

Alec's hands run over the smooth fabric of Magnus' clothes. He loves the feel of Magnus' muscles under his hands, the knowledge of how wonderful the skin itself would feel if he'd pull the gown away from his husband's perfect body.

Alec knows every millimetre of skin, every edge and curve of Magnus' body. He mapped it out a thousand times with his hands and lips. He loves his scent, especially in the morning when the remnants of his shampoo and shower gel have dissipated and Magnus only smells of himself.

Alec rolls Magnus on his back and kisses him fiercely. Magnus lets him, moans quietly into his mouth. It's a heated slide of lips and tongues, teeth joining now and then. It's perfect, familiar and still full of surprises. Kissing Magnus never gets dull. And judging by the way the warlock returns it with enthusiasm, Magnus would agree with his husband on this.

Alec pulls back after a while, catching his breath. He sends a questioning look down to chocolate coloured eyes. They perfected these silent conversations over the last two years, the wordless 'Can I?' hanging in the air between them.

Magnus smiles at him softly as he usually does, his lips red and slightly swollen. Alec gets rid of his boxers, opens the belt of Magnus' bathrobe and pulls his satin shorts down, just enough to settle his throbbing erection in the crease right above Magnus' hip bone. To his surprise, Magnus lets out a discontent sound. Alec furrows his brow in confusion.

"It's your birthday, Alexander."

Alec huffs a laugh. "Yes, and?"

"You can have me."

It takes Alec embarrassingly long until he understands. His cock gets the message immediately after, though, and a shiver works itself through Alec's body.

"You don't have to," he replies nonetheless when the spike of arousal subsides. It's nice that Magnus is willing to sleep with him from time to time, even though he doesn't derive any pleasure from it. At least not in the traditional sense of sexual satisfaction. But Alec would never expect this from him, much less over the fact that it's his birthday. He wants Magnus to be in the mood for this kind of intimacy.

Magnus cards his fingers through Alec's hair, just the way the shadowhunter loves it. "I want to," he simply states.

And it is that simple. Honesty, that's what they promised each other. No pretending to be fine, no important words postponed to later, no doing things out of a misguided sense of duty.

Alec dives in for another kiss. He'll never get enough of these lips, of this man, of holding his heart and Magnus his in return.

He brushes the fabric to the side and kisses a long trail from the spot behind Magnus' ear to the place where he should have a belly button. Alec grins and enjoys the goosebumps that he can conjure on Magnus' skin when he does things like this. His husband is so responsive, and Alec loves it. Loves him so much.

When Alec pulls down Magnus' shorts, his dick is lying there, not even semi-erect. Alec ignores it. He learnt that Magnus' arousal is unpredictable and says nothing about how much he loves him, of how beautiful Alec is in his eyes, of how much he likes to feel and taste him.

Alec's eyes roam over Magnus' caramel skin up to his beautiful cat eyes. They smile at each other for a long moment as if frozen in time. Alec could bathe in the glow of their love for all eternity.

Magnus breaks the moment with a snap of his fingers, and Alec chuckles in surprise when he feels his fingers slick with warm lube.

"Impatient, are we?" Alec smirks.

"For you? Always, darling." Magnus grins up at him and spreads his legs invitingly. Alec's eyes fix on the inviting hole. He gives his own cock a few strokes before he touches the rim, a heady feeling overwhelming him.

It's not that they never have sex. No, far from it. Alec enjoys Magnus' body, his hands and mouth ever so often. But this here? This is special. This is something they haven't done since their wedding anniversary.

Alec loves being inside Magnus. It's not that he loves it more than all the other sexual things they share, but it's different. Very good different. Nothing compares to the tightness of Magnus' ass, the way he clenches around him, the feeling of being so utterly connected that they become one.

It's stupid, Alec thinks, as if we weren't one at all times and especially in bed. But tell that to his cock that springs excitedly at the mere thought of burying himself in Magnus' narrow heat.

Alec pushes a finger slowly inside. It always fills him with wonder how easily Magnus lets him in. It's trust in its purest form, and it doesn't cease to amaze him, doesn't cease to flood his body with all-encompassing want. Magnus does this for him out of love because he wants to give him what Alec could live without but is happy that he doesn't have to. They always do this on Magnus' terms, and knowing that his husband wants it, too, makes the sex for Alec only better.

"I love you so damn much," Alec breathes, looking up in his husband's eyes, and Magnus clenches around him as he laughs.

"I love you too, Alexander." It's spoken with such joy and sincerity, it takes Alec's breath away. How is this not a fairy tale?

"I can take more," Magnus states, and Alec chuckles. He complies, feels Magnus stretching around his fingers.

Briefly, Alec wonders if he is the only gay man with a cis partner who has no clue where his lover's prostate is. He only knows that he will stimulate it by mistake when he adds a third finger. But Magnus takes it. Alec hates it when he makes him bolt up the bed, the touch too intense and arrow sharp, nothing like the pleasure Alec experiences when Magnus does the same to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"It's quite alright, Alexander," Magnus breathes. "I think I'm ready."

Alec furrows his brow in concern, but Magnus is already moving. He cleans Alec's hand with a snap of his fingers and pushes him on his back. Alec can't help but think that he's one lucky bastard as he watches his husband getting ready to ride him. He loves the sight of Magnus hovering over him, lining himself up with his dick. He looks so good like this, all sexy muscles framed by maroon silk, a masterpiece of art.

But it's nothing compared to the feeling of Magnus sinking down on him. Alec closes his eyes for a moment, tries to keep in the lewd moan threatening to fall from his lips.

Magnus clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Let me hear you, Alexander. Your passion is my greatest reward."

And so, Alec lets it out, moans Magnus' name and praises him as he starts moving. The drag of Magnus' walls over his cock, the quiet moans falling from his husband's lips—Alec can't help but think that Magnus enjoys himself.

It's not exactly true, he knows that. But Alec learnt to relish it nonetheless. Magnus wants to make him feel good, and who is he to deny his beloved anything? Magnus is in charge, can control the intensity of what he feels. And Alec is in for the ride, can enjoy the pressure of Magnus' hand on his chest and the slide of his ass over his cock.

Magnus moves his hips exactly how Alec likes it, pulls himself up just to slam down again, a constant assault on Alec's nerve endings. It feels like ages and seconds, an eternal tide. Alec gets lost in it, lost in Magnus' loving ministrations.

Alec hums when the telltale sign of concentred heat pooling in his stomach announces his near climax. He doesn't warn Magnus, well-knowing he might stop and prolong their love-making. But this is enough, will always be more than enough for Alec. The fact that Magnus allows him to have him like this—glistening with a sheen of sweat, eyes closed in concentration, his body moving in ways Alec's blood-drained brain can't properly process but that he enjoys to the fullest—is the greatest gift of all, birthday or not.

But something must have given him away. Magnus surely knows how to read his body, or maybe his mind even. He opens his unglamoured eyes, looks at him with so much adoration and love, it pushes Alec only closer to the edge.

"Come for me, darling," Magnus huffs out, strain clear in his voice, as he keeps on slamming their bodies together with clear intent. And Alec does. His body spasms, his sight is replaced with darkness and fireworks. He moans Magnus' name as he fills him as if there were a way to get even closer than this.

When he opens his eyes afterwards, his brain still far from being back online again, they are already magically cleaned, and Magnus lies in Alec's boneless arms.

"Happy birthday, Alexander," he chuckles against his shoulder.

Happy birthday, indeed.

[jetsam-kisa]

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D 

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?” 

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay. 

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating. 

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.  

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions. 

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory! 

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered. 

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’ 

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body. 

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament? 

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks. 

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue. 

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost. 

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[hermannsthumb]

Prompt: Newt has never seen the appeal of threesomes, frankly. They seem like more trouble than they're worth. But now there's two Hermanns standing in front of him, and his first thought (after "Did I take my meds?" , "Do I need new glasses?" , and "What the fuck is happening?") is that he needs both of them, immediately.

Anonymous said: Prompt (if you haven't written it already!) where due to time travel shenanigans, newt gets spit roasted by hermann(s)

i love how many requests i get for this kinda stuff HAHAHAH i technically have written this three times before, but in honor of newt’s birthday, let’s go for a fourth! MAJOR not sfw below cut!!!

----------

Newt is distracted as hell when he half-jogs into the lab one otherwise ordinary birthday afternoon, which might explain why he doesn’t see that there are two Hermanns at first. There’s too much on his mind—picking a club for tonight, what dissections he has to get done today before they can go out to a club, whether or not he remembered to wash his sexy club clothes, and if it even matters, because they’re just gonna get covered in glitter again. Whether or not the barista got Hermann’s coffee order right this time. Whether or not the special birthday breakfast pastries survived the journey. “It’s pouring out there,” he complains to Hermann, pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes and scraping his boots off on the pathetic rubber mat they keep in the doorway. “If it doesn’t let up, we might wanna reconsider going out tonight.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“Sweaty, wet bodies in a small room? Gross. No thanks.” Newt inspects the pastries: the brown wrappings of the one on top are slightly water-logged, but the pastry itself is fine. Perfect. “We could just rent a movie.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“And order some pizza.” Man, that’d make for a nice birthday. All cozied up in Newt’s bed with a monster movie and pizza. “Actually, let’s do that instead. I kinda wanted to go dancing, but—”

Hermann bangs his cane against the floor. It echoes strangely, almost as if he’s doing it twice at once, and Newt turns to him in confusion—or, as he discovers, them. He drops his pastry. He polishes his glasses free of water, and crams them back onto his face. He blinks a few times. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Dude, there are two of you.”

“I know,” both Hermanns say, and roll their eyes.

Newt approaches them cautiously. Two Hermanns. One of them is undoubtedly Newt’s Hermann, judging by his bad haircut, bad glasses, and bad clothing, which is the same boring slacks and sweater combo he was wearing when Newt left for coffee an hour ago. The other Hermann is a Hermann unlike one Newt’s ever seen before, clad in dark colors, with hair cropped somewhat more evenly and twice as many wrinkles around his eyes. Not two Hermanns—it can’t be two Hermanns. That’s a scientific impossibility. “Your brother,” Newt says. He knows Hermann has an older one, though the odds of Hermann having an older brother who uses a cane identical to his, on the same side as his, is a little slim.

“No,” Hermann says.

“You cousin?” Newt says.

“No,” the other Hermann says, but the corner of his mouth twitches up with an obvious fondness. “Your earlier assessment was correct, I’m afraid. There are two of me.”

Newt glances between them again. Same soft, brown eyes; same dark eyelashes; same weird, wide lips; same elegant cheekbones. Is Newt dreaming? No, he’s sure he’s not dreaming—it’s too, like, real to be a dream. (Besides, Newt’s brain is never this kind to him, and if it was, he would’ve just skipped the boring build-up and gone straight to the threeway.) Is he having some sort of a mental break, brought on by stress, or forgetting to take his meds somewhere along the line? Unlikely—Newt’s been way more stressed before, and he’s skipped his meds before, and he’s never had a reaction like this. It must be real. “Well, shit,” he finally says. “Hermann, this is the best birthday present ever.”

“Er,” Newt’s Hermann says. “It is?”

Newt cups the side of the new Hermann’s face, feeling it, inspecting it, reveling in the warmth of his skin. Yep—real, definitely real. Real and handsome. Newt pats his cheek. “You cloned yourself just so we could have an awesome birthday threesome,” Newt says. “That’s really touching, Hermann, seriously. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“No,” Hermann says. “That’s not—”

New Hermann gently places his hand over Newt’s, leaning into his touch, and smiles. There’s a hint of sadness to it Newt doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not a clone, darling,” he says.

“Oh, I like him,” Newt says. “He’s nicer. Definitely not a clone, then. Who are you, then, hot stuff?”

“He’s—oh.” Hermann sighs. “It all sounds so silly when I try to say it out loud. He’s from the future, Newton.”

Newt hums, considering New Hermann. Yeah, that makes more sense. Eye wrinkles. However far off in the future he’s from, apparently he’s picked up a bit more fashion sense by then, and maybe even a bit of style. “You came back in time just to have an awesome birthday threesome with me?” Newt guesses.

New Hermann laughs. Eye wrinkles, style, and apparently some sort of major head injury where he forgets how bad he and Newt hate each other. The future is now, or whatever. “Truthfully,” he says, “arriving on your birthday was unintentional. It’s difficult to get exact dates correctly with the sort of technology I was using, you see.”

“Apparently there’s some great big event that happens in 2035 that it’s absolutely imperative he warn us about,” Hermann says.

That’s a bit of a let down. Still cool by virtue of time travel, Newt guesses, but awesome birthday threesome would’ve been more exciting. “Oh,” he says. A let down, and a shame, really, because 11-years-into-the-future Hermann is pretty sexy, and Newt was hoping for the chance to get his hands on some of that. Or maybe get those hands on him. He’s not picky. “I mean,” he tries, one last desperate attempt, “what’s the rush, you know? You can always tell us afterwards.”

“Afterwards?” Future Hermann says.

“Afterwards,” Newt repeats. He grabs Future Hermann by the lapels of his dark labcoat and smiles cheekily. “You can spare a couple hours, can’t you, dude? For the birthday boy?”

A sudden warmth blooms behind the future Hermann’s eyes; his mouth stretches into a smile of his own, goofy and affectionate. Future Hermann sure seems to like him. Newt hasn’t got a problem with that in the slightest, actually. “Er, a couple,” he stammers, and Newt hears Hermann—his Hermann—inhale sharply, like he’s just been offended to the utmost degree. “I suppose that’s— Well, I suppose there’s no real problem there. It’s not as if I’m on a schedule. Time travel. After all.”

“After all,” Newt says. “What about you, Hermann?

Newt’s Hermann is silent for a little too long to be anything but considering. “Er,” he says.

“Good,” Newt says.

--------

“Alright, boys,” Newt says, “I’m not as young as I used to be, so I can’t promise I’m very good at this anymore.”

“Anymore?” Newt’s Hermann says.

Newt winks at him over his shoulder. He has a witty joke on the edge of his tongue, but it dies when the Hermann in front of him (older, nicer Hermann) begins to tenderly stroke his jaw without warning. “You’ve always been so handsome,” Hermann says. His hand trails up the side of Newt’s face and stops in his hair, where he begins to twirl a strand around his finger. Newt shivers. “I could stare at you all day.”

“That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “And cute, I guess? Okay, here goes.”

He opens his mouth wide and takes in Hermann’s—the new Hermann’s—dick as deep as he can, which is somewhere around the three-fourths mark. He used to be a lot better at deep-throating in his twenties. Also, Hermann is somewhat very well-endowed. “Bugger,” the future Hermann moans. His eyes flicker shut, and his grip in Newt’s hair tightens, and Newt feels a surge of pride. He’s always loved being able to turn Hermann to jelly like this, and apparently some things never chance. He hopes future Newt is still giving it to Hermann like this. “Newton, that’s marvelous.”

“Oh, by Jove,” Newt’s Hermann murmurs. He’s standing behind them at the edge of the bed, his knees braced against it gently. He’s also undoubtedly enjoying the view. Newt smiles around Hermann’s dick (puffing out his cheeks for show, just a little), and wriggles his ass obnoxiously at his Hermann. He needed the guy inside of him five minutes ago, goddamn it. Hermann seems to get the hint: there’s a shaking hand placed on his hip, a lone finger prodding his lube-slick entrance to check he’s properly prepared, and then Hermann’s dick sliding into him inch-by-inch. Newt moans. 

“Newton,” the two Hermanns groan out in near-unison, the one as Newt begins to bob his head up and down his dick, the other as he bottoms out and his pelvis hits Newt’s ass.

Newt pulls his mouth off of Hermann’s dick for only a second. “Fuck me already,” he begs. His voice is raspy even to his own ears.

He’s not sure which Hermann he’d intended to direct the plea towards, but both take it to heart: the Hermann behind Newt begins to rock in and out of him, picking up speed with each little thrust, while the Hermann in front of Newt pushes his dick back between Newt’s lips and begins a series of shallow thrusts of his own. Newt feels speared open, and used; Newt feels fucking awesome. “Mm,” he moans. He ruts against the bedsheets lazily.

“Wait, wait,” the Hermann fucking his mouth suddenly says, voice breathless. “Your—ah—your timing is not quite right.”

“It most certainly is right,” the Hermann in his ass huffs. “You’re meant to be following my lead. Yours is off.”

“Hardly,” the first Hermann says. “Stop moving—we need a bloody rhythm. We needn’t overwhelm Newton.”

Both of them still. Newt hears them debating how to proceed in a series of hissed whispers (though he’s too busy happily sucking on Hermann’s dick to bother with proper eavesdropping), and then the Hermann behind him is pulling out, while the Hermann in front of him pushes further into his mouth and down his throat. Newt’s throat burns pleasurably; his eyes begin to water, and he gags very slightly. “There we are,” the first Hermann continues in a grunt. “Now—” He pulls out until the wet head of his dick is just grazing Newt’s lips, while the other Hermann pushes back into Newt’s ass. “Much neater.”

Newt swallows down a hysterical laugh, or maybe it’s more of a whimper, and just grins instead. “You guys work it out?”

“Shut it,” the Hermann behind him gasps. He grinds deep in Newt, hitting all the right spots, and Newt is grateful for the return of the other Hermann’s dick in his mouth to muffle him before he can really make an embarrassing sound.

They keep up the pattern for all of five minutes, which Newt is pretty impressed with. Slowly, though, they start to get impatient; lingering too long inside of Newt, or pulling out a bit too slowly, or jumping the gun just a bit too early to rock back in. The Hermann in behind is the first to snap and forgo it entirely, suddenly gripping onto Newt’s waist and pounding into him as hard as he can. Not that Newt is complaining. “Ah, Newton, that’s so—” he moans, and Newt rewards him with a little teasing squeeze, “I—”

“Mmhm,” Newt says. Part of him wants to start worrying about his own orgasm, but honestly, he’s enjoying this too much. 

Getting an idea, he pulls his mouth off of Hermann and replaces it with his hand. Hermann always gets really embarrassed when Newt lets him come on his face, and he’s curious about if that’s changed in eleven years. “This feels so awesome,” he says. He begins jerking Hermann off quickly, barely a centimeter from his lips. He’s sure he’s gonna say some dumb shit—he loses his mouth to brain filter (which already works at minimum capacity) completely when he’s this turned on. “So, so awesome. I wanna do it again with both of you guys in my ass or something, but I want you to come all over me first, fuck yeah, come on, Hermann, do it—”

“Newton!” the Hermann above him chokes out, throwing a hand over his eyes, which gives Newt all the warning he needs to stick his tongue out and catch a small portion of his jizz. The rest makes a mess of his glasses. Kinda gross. Pretty hot, too.

He’s not surprised when he feels the Hermann behind him stiffen and come in him only a second later, cursing and gasping—he really does like to see Newt messy.

While they both collapse to the bed and attempt to catch their breath, Newt rubs his fingers through the mess one Hermann made of his face and uses it as lube to stroke himself off. He doesn’t take very long, either, considering this is definitely one of the hottest things to ever happen to him. Top five birthdays for sure.

“So,” he says, ten minutes later. He’s positioned himself in bed as the middle of the Hermann sandwich. Both Hermanns (arms draped around Newt) look at him, but Newt only looks back at Future Hermann. “What did you come here to tell us?”

“Oh,” Future Hermann says. He blushes. “Er. Right.”

[poison--ivory]

Uninviting Cataclysm (Alastor x Reader) Chapter 2

June 16, 1915 (Monday)

 Ten days have gone by since the radio man has offered me a job here at his studio. I still can't shake the chill of his touch. I heard rumors he could use voodoo because of his creole background, but I didn't want to judge too quickly.

____________________________________________

"You want me to work for you. But, why?"

"Of course! You look perfect for the job, darling.” His grin widen to surprising width. Pearly white teeth glistening from the light radiating off them.

"What can I possibly do that might help you?" Cocking your head to the left. Eyes drifting from his gazed. Not daring to meet his eyes.

Snapping his fingers your brain compelled you to look up at his eyes. Looking pleased he folded his hand on top of the other. "You'll do menial work like organizing files, coffee runs, rereading my manuscript before each show and working for me until I say otherwise."

Eyes still fixated on him you tried to pry them off, but like a mouse being hypnotized by a snake. You felt as though you were compelled to keep your eyes up or he'll swallow you whole.

"Will it pay well?" Your voice sounded faded and small. But, your surprised he heard you.

"Why my dear, of course I'll pay you generously." Rolling his eyes and they drifted off for bit before shooting back on you. You straighten your back and inhaled sharply. Throat getting dryer each second he looks at you. The air felt like it got thicker and heavier, you felt like you were drowning. "So, darling do we have a deal." His arm stretched out in front of his body and again your body moved by itself. Taking his hand with yours and gave it a good couple of shakes. A sharp jolt shot up your arm.

You could of sworn you saw a green light emitting from his hand trailing slowly to my hand. My body felt like it was on fire heating up with each passing second. Then, as soon as it stared it went away leaving a loitering coolness behind. It all ended with the waitress nearly slamming the plate down in front of me and gently placing Alastor's right in front him. He thanked her and she walked off giggling with a huge array of red on her cheeks.

Body shaking slightly you tried picking up your fork. His gaze was still on you waiting for you try yours first.

'What the fuck was that?"

_____________________________________________

 Ever since then I tried to keep my distance from him outside of work, but he insisted he should drive me home each night. Because of the killings going on and that a lady should be accompanied home by a fine gentleman like himself. Reasoning with him was out of the question. I told him no before and his face made me regret even thinking about turning down his offers. What made it even more terrifying he kept that sickening smile on the whole time. I still have the bruise from when he pinned me to the wall. I hide it from my family I haven't really been speaking to them for a couple of days now. They have their own problems and what use do I have to burden them with my own situation.

Thinking about it Mimzy's always looked happy to talk to Alastor without hesitation. From what I know she really idolizes him.

'I wonder if Mimzy's treated like this. If she was she doesn't really act scared.'

 The light that read 'air' went off and a sense of dread flew throughout your body. Before getting up he always fixed his hair and loosened his bow tie. Smiling he walked out the studio with a pep to his step. Making eye contact you managed a smile on your lips before he pulled you towards him and gave your body a small twirl.

"Can you please take me home, Al. I'm quiet tired." You weren't lying it was a long night shift and with the gruesome story telling of another murder. You just wanted the day to end so you could sleep in your lovely bed.

"Oh, did I not tell you dear." He tilted his head and that smiled stretched . "I'm taking you out for a night on the town." The excitement in his voice was kind of sickening.

"B-but I-" was interrupted by him dragging me along with him down the hall and waiting upon the arriving elevator. Looking up to speak with him again you noted the look on his features and decided not to question anymore. Stepping into the elevator you both made it downstairs and straight into the lobby. The old lady at the front waved us both a good night, she herself already getting ready to leave and retire for the night.

 Alastor's car was waiting outside like usual and he finally took his hold off of me to open the passenger door. Thanking him you sat yourself in and leaned more to the window when Al got on the driver side. Smirking he pulled off in the opposite direction of my neighborhood. Even though your already out you still feel like you should call home and tell them your gonna be out for I hope a short while.

Passing by fancy light up signs and all sorts of folk walking around from building to building. A couple of bands were setting up their instruments into backs of cars. Groups of friends making good memories of their youth by drinking it away with silly juice.

"Where are we going this late?" You know people party after this hour, but you never really expected him to be a party type. Well maybe his attitude changed after a couple of drinks or can he hold his liquor. I guess you were going to see another side of him this night.

"Our dear, Mimzy's is singing at a local bar tonight and she wanted me to invite you as well." Looking at me from the corner of his eyes, then trailing them back to the road in front. "She never really opens up to most of my dame friends. I guess she's taking a liking to you."

"She's sounds pretty protective." To be completely honest with yourself you've never been in lady drama before. So, you couldn't tell if she liked him as a brother or a man. The glares from now and again would tip you off, but her inviting you to her show sound friendlier than her usual self when she's around you. Though for all you know Al brought you up in conversation and she got the idea from him.

"She does cares a great deal for me, she's one of the few of my close friends." He gave a short chuckle, which sounded more of rumble that came from his chest.

"How long are we going to out for, because I don't wanna worry my family."  Messing with your small fingers, you kept you gaze lowered afraid of being put under that overwhelming fear again.

 Instead answering he laughed and gave the steering wheel a firmer grip. "All you do is ask questions, darling." An arm reached out and cupped my cheek with his gloved hand. "No need to worry that pretty little head. Time does fly by when your having fun."

 He gave my cheek a small tap and slowly withdrew his hands. Not before dragging it across my neck at a snails pace. Then, placed it back on the wheel.

_____________________________________________

"Here we are my dear." The place looked like any other bar. This doesn't look like the sort of place for someone like Mimzy to sing her songs.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Squinting you couldn't find the appeal of taking any business here.

"Don't judge a book by it appearance, my dear. It's what's on the inside that counts." He was right next to your ear, hot breath on the shell of your ear. Making you jerk to the side holding your right ear in protection. Before you could protest he entangled his arm with yours and pulled you towards the run down building.

 The place was nearly empty besides the drunken gents at the bar and the few in small booths. Alastor lead me to back where a single man stood pressed against the door. He made eye contact with Al and stuck his hand out for him to shake. Smirking he met his grip and they both started a weird and complex handshake. The man groaned and stepped to the side.

"Play nice, Al." He shot him side glare. "I Don't wanna clean another room."

"Oh, don't you worry my friend. I have a doll tonight, why would I cause trouble." With a narrowed eyed smile to his face and jester me inside. If I couldn't hear music before I can clearly hear it now. All sorts of instruments playing. Smiling I bobbed my head to a certain beat matching with anyone of the instruments. The grip that was on my arm was gone and replaced on my waist by the tall gent. He was smirking down at me, then looked back in front of himself leading us down, deeper until the music was blaring into my ear canals.

'So this what a real club looks like. So nice besides the drunk people.'

Alastor lead me deeper into the crowd passing people who seem to moved out the way for Al and he sat me down at the bar.

 Bopping my nose he turned the seat around to face the man serving the drinks at this bar. "This fine man here is, Husker. He serves refreshments at this fine establishment." Looking up at the man he looked like he never got a wick of sleep with rough, black stubble on his face. Combed back black hair and even though he looked around Al's age (20), he looks like he doesn't take the best care for himself and looks about twenty-nine going into the mid thirty area. "She's the one I've been talking about lately." His full attention's on the male now who only nodded and continued cleaning shot glasses.

"Shouldn't you be gettin' ready." His gruff voice sent delightful shivers down your spine.

"Oh, why yes! I nearly forgot!" Detaching his arm from my waist he turn towards the crowd.

Al's gaze reached out across the tables and he stopped on on particular person. "Husker my dear friend. Do you mind watching over this little doe for me." He fixed his bow tie and fluffed his hair. "I have something I need to do before show time."

 Before I knew it he disappeared into the mass of people and went to the lower platform. Looking back at Husker you only managed a small wave, and tried to make eye contact. Finding his eyes more easier to fall upon.

"So, you want anything to drink?" His gruff voice hardly reached your ears, but you still made some words.

"Anything without alcohol or water, please." Smiling you tried to make good first impressions. He reached behind the counter to fill you glass with seltzer water. Sliding the medium sized cup towards you. Nodding your head in thanks you took a small sip. Little bubbles splashed your upper lip and unladylike of you wiped it off with the back of your hand.

"So, how long have you known Alastor. I only know him for ten days." Taking another gulp of seltzer.

"Eh, a few years." He gave a guy his stiff drink before turning attention back onto me. "He's been talking about ya non stop and it's fucking annoying."

 I really don't see what's so interesting about me to talk to his friends about. "Oh, really. What about? I hope it's good things." Actually curious you leaned forward. From the way he treats you expect him to tell them that your doormat and easy to walk on.

"Fucking weirdo talks about courtin' ya and told him your just gonna scare the lass off." Your whole body froze. "Don't know if he actually doing it though. Is he?"

 Courting. You've never been courted before, maybe the occasional flirt from guy friends and wolf whistles from men walking down the street. But, letting someone become a candidate for marriage. To actual know that someone thought about you in that light made you feel special. No one wanted you in that way, to flirt or fuck yes, but you never gave into those whims. Most guys white or black didn't like your skin tone, but loved your body. A lot of women hated your body and skin tone they always mentioned it when talking behind your back.

"You don look black or white."

Your just the spectrum floating in between.

"So, you know how to play cards." Changing the subject entirely and pulling out his deck of cards.

"No, but my papa plays some poker with his friends. I always wanted to learn." He started shuffling the deck a smirk started to form across his face.

"I can see why he likes ya now." Sliding out cards like it was second nature and collected his bunch. "Ya gonna pick up your cards, so I can teach ya or what?"

 Quickly snatching up the cards you let Husk take the reigns. He taught you has much of his tricks he knows and the rules.

_____________________________________________

  Jolting out of thought Husker motioned towards the stage. Stacking the deck back into its rightful compartment. He put his pointer finger to his lips to tell me to keep quiet. Looking at the stage, Alastor stood front and center. People's attention solely on one man. Tapping his microphone he announced himself loud and proud, no mistakes.

 "Now let me introduce you to the one all of you love to hear. Who most of you are present to hear. Her voice could leave anyone entranced. Here we have Mimzy's the Miracle!"

 The audience clapping and shouting for Mimzy to come out. Deciding to join in on the fun you started clapping louder. Before, you knew it she stepped out on stage and some collared men whistled. Alastor stepped off stage, you couldn't really see from this angle where he was at.

(Using a song not of this period)

You had plenty money 1902

You let other women make a

Fool of you

Why don't you do right,

Like some other men do?

Get out of here and

Get me some money too

Your sitting here won drink

What it's all about

You ain't got no money

They will put you out

Why don't you do right,

Like some other men do?

Get out of here and

Get me some money too

If you had prepared

Twenty years ago

You would be a-wander'

From door to door

Why don't you do right,

Like some other men do?

Get out of here and

Get me some money too

Oooh oh ah

Why don't you do right,

Like some other men do?

Oooh ahhoh ah

 Claps ensued after even louder than the music from earlier. The grin on my face grew and my chest felt so, light and warm. I didn't even notice Alastor sitting next to me until he rested his arm around my waist pulling himself close to frame. Smiling up at him my heart skipped a beat just looking at his face.

 Thinking about the conversation from early with Husk my face heated up faster than a bullet cutting through air.

  While Mimzy was getting ready for another song. I looked up at Alastor who was already smiling done at me. My heart started pacing, no one has ever deemed you worthy for courting.

  Why are feeling this way now, you didn't like him a few hours ago and now you feel like throwing up rainbows.

 "What's on your mind, my darling (y/n)." The smirk on his face looks more appealing now. It's making your heart flutter. "Did you and Husker get along liked I hoped."

"Yes, we did, but he told me something that made me question your intentions with me." His smile faltered and he tensed up for just a few, short minutes. "Is it true you wanted to court me, Al."

 Staring directly at him, you witness his face go into freeze mode with a few blinks here and there.

 Bringing your hand up to touch him your wrist was caught within his hand. He squeezed your wrist with such constriction that you felt you whole hand go numb.

"My dear, what do you think this evening was for. Introducing you to my few friends is just the first steps of my courting ritual." His arm still around my waist he started dragging me out the club.

 Before, leaving you look behind to wave Husk off, surprised to get one back in return. Maybe you can be friends with these people after all.

Once you left out of earshot Husk groaned to himself and pulled on his face to relieve some stress.

"She should of stayed away from the bastard."

_____________________________________________

Stepping outside you realized how warm the club's inside was. The cool air making chills go up your spine. But, like this whole night Al pulled you over to his car.

 Opening the car door for you and, then situated himself in. Sitting in silence for a minute or two. He leaned over the into the passenger seat and gave the outside of your lips a kiss. A squeak of surprise exerted from your throat. Smirking to himself about the dumbfounded look on your face he went in to give your lips a kiss. Eyes still wide you tried to get into a more comfortable head tilt, before you finally found it.

 Smiling into the kiss you can feel his hand caressing your face. His lips feel dry and chapped, but you don't mind. This is probably the most intimate time you'll ever have with a man.

I just didn't know about the monster that was awaiting around the corner.

[gotreactions]

SKZ Reaction: Finger Kink (NSFW)

Where their S/O loves sucking on their fingers. Don't read if you're uncomfortable with this!

Chan:

You and Chan were in bed, him kissing your neck and rocking his hips into you as you let out little moans and slight whines. You were extra horny tonight, feeling Chan's hot, naked, sweaty body rub against yours. Loving how close your bodies are, his scent driving your crazy, all your senses overwhelmed but you wanted -no, you needed- more! That's when you took his right hand, dragging it away from your waist and pulling it up to your mouth. Licking between his fingers, sucking the tips lightly, before taking them into your mouth with a louder moan, your eyes closing. Catching Chan's attention, what he sees sends him into over drive as his speed quickens, hips hit harder, sinful words waterfalling from his mouth making you open your eyes. He would shove his fingers deeper, pushing them down you're throat as he grunts and groans, his orgasm close.

"Oh fuck Babygirl...Mm you like that? Like sucking on daddy's fingers? Taking them down your tight little throat while I fuck you just the way you like? Look so good like that."

Minho:

With his back against the headboard/wall, his cock buried deep inside your heat as his hands rested on your hips, Minho smirked so devilishly at you. Not at your body, or even face, but just at you. As if he was teasing your whole body, staring deep into your soul, and just enjoying the view. Enjoying and loving how your rode him, gaining pleasure with every bounce of your body on his. The way you were soaking him, your whines filling the room, noticing everything about you from the arch in your neck as you throw your head back to the way your nails dig into his skin and even taking note of your breathing patterns. This man is in paradise with you. Until you start to beg, for nothing imparticular, you should beg out of pleasure making him tsk and scold you before he shoves his fingers in your mouth, making you moan.

"Stop begging...yeah there you go suck on my fingers like a good whore.. Get them all wet and sloppy. Such a pretty slut...So easily distracted and pleased...It's kind of pathetic honestly..."

Changbin:

You were needy, horny, desperate. Changbin on the other hand? Not so much! He was tired, and oblivious. You tried hinting, sat in his lap and kissed all over him, even began grinding against his thigh some, but he just thought you wanted cuddles. He carried you to bed, snuggled against you, held you tight and closed his eyes. He's had such a busy week you didn't want to ask for anything but at the same time your body craved attention. You wiggled your butt against his crotch, let out a few small moans. He just laughed and teased you for not being able to sit still. Having enough, you took his fingers and shoved them in your mouth. Exagerated moans, sucking sloppily and semi loudly. You brought your own hand down and starting rubbing your clit while Changbin stared at you wide eyed, a bulge quickly forming in his sweats and pressing against you. He felt so shy, so embarrassed. Blushing slightly.

"O-Oh..that's what was wrong...Well, in that case.. Why don't I give you something else to suck while we explore what other kinks you might have..." Which leads to you 69ing and him fingering you through several orgasms.

Hyunjin:

You were on the bed, flat on your stomach with Hyunjin pounding into you harder than ever before. Just a few hours ago you two had gotten into a fight after you ran into your ex and Hyunjin had done nothing. You admitted to him you were mad - you had wanted him to kiss you and claim you as his in front of your ex. Angrily you said a real man would have taken charge. Which is why you are now covered in hickeys and shaking under him from oversinsitivity. Moaning and whining, you reach behind him and grab his wrists from off your hips, pulling him on top of you. Feeling his chest against your sore back, he wraps his left arm around your throat just tight enough to allow you to rest your head on his arm as he whispers deep voiced into your ear, daring you to say he isn't a real man now. Slowing down his pace but striking you with harder strokes as you cry from pleasure and beg for more, wanting to feel all of him. You take his free hand and pull it to your mouth so you can suck his fingers and taste him. Your eager tongue swirling around his long fingers, sucking on them and hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head on them. It was enough to satisfy your cravings.

"Wanna say I'm not a real man now? Tell me you don't enjoy my cock.. That you don't want it, I dare you.. Exactly what I thought... This is what a real mans dick feels like. Yeah thats right princess, suck on those fingers, take them down your throat and keep your mouth shut!"

Jisung:

You would tell him one night while sitting on the sofa, maybe while he was playing a video game. Normally you guys would play together but tonight you weren't in the mood, so instead you sat behind him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around him, your chin on his shoulder as his body laid against yours very relaxed. Your eyes were glued on his fingers and how they expertly moved around the controller. Your mind ended up wandering, thoughts and pictures of his perfectly magical fingers moving in and out of your tight heat, stretching you open so good before pressing them against your lips and making you taste your own juices as he chuckles lowly and just watches you. A moan ends up leaving your mouth before you kiss Jisungs neck and quietly whisper in his ear telling him how much you wish you could taste his fingers, how badly you wanted to feel them inside you. Han would pause his game so fast, pressing his body against yours and questioning what you had just said.

"Where did that come from?...I'm not complaining, as a matter of fact I would love to lay you down right now and make your wish reality.."

He would love being able to please you.

Felix:

This was definitely new. Normally you and Felix would take your time and explore each others bodies in order to learn together and about each other. But right now? It was a bit... Different. Rushed. Felix has to go on stage in 20 minutes to perform, usually he would wait until after a concert to have his fun but right now he has a little big problem down below which is making it harder for him to focus and dance. Which leads to him now trying to get rid of it. That wasn't so hard to do in this position, hiding in a closet with you pinned against a wall, your leg around his waist as he drives into you at a speeding pace, running every 'red light' that tried to warn him of his high. His orgasm was so close and damn did your moans sound amazing, but someone could walk past at any second and see this, hear you. He had no choice but to shove three fingers in your mouth as a way to silence you. The surprise attack made a muffled moan escape your mouth as you were run over by Ecstacy. Felix always had small looking hands, seemingly short fingers, but right here and now? His hands seem so big and perfect, the way his fingers spread inside your throat stretching it out little by little. How you could taste your bitter sweet juices. The feeling of having your mouth and pussy filled at the same time. It was too much, and Felixs words weren't helping.

"Gotta be quiet Angel, we can't have somebody else hearing your perfect moans now can we? Do you realise how jealous that would make me?" He chuckled the last before his hips speed up and a broken deep groan filled you up, in more than one way.

Seungmin:

You and Seungmin were laying on the sofa together, facing one another both of you on your sides. Your right leg around his hip, his left hand on your upper thigh squeezing into your skin with just the right amount of pressure. His hips carefully and slowly bumping up into yours, making your body bounce ever so slightly but just enough so he could feel your breasts rubbing against his chest. Your little sighs and pants of contentment turning him on even more as he held your back, pressing your body closer to him, holding you in place so you don't fall off. With one of your hands on his shoulder and the other arm wrapped around his neck, Seungmin had the perfect view of your face. He was in pure paradise seeing your eyes closed lightly as if you were drifting away peacefully, looking like you were floating on clouds. He saw your lips, barely open just enough to create the perfect little small hole. Unable to resist, he slid his hand up your thigh, waist, and straight to your face. He carressed your cheek gently, catching your attention so he could watch your eyes flutter open. He so teasingly slowly moved his thumb to your mouth and swiped across your bottom lip. As your mouth opened a little wider, his thumb automatically slid inside and pressed against your tongue. As your lips closed around him, his lips fell open into a light gasp. He didn't understand how someone good look so heavenly while sucking a thumb, but turns out your beautiful no matter what you're doing. He slid his thumb in and out, curious and enjoying the view as you sucked around it and bobbed your head a bit to his pace.

"Mn, you look perfect. I wish you could see yourself right now. So..so..soo perfect my beautiful Goddess... That's what you are." He'd smile and lean forward enough to kiss your forehead.

Jeongin:

In bed with your lover, you were rubbing him through his pants as he blushed and looked away. He would avoid eye contact and try to remain silent as he turned his face away from yours just to turn it right back, too drawn to your beauty to keep his eyes off of you. His hand kept flying up to cover his face just to fall back down a few seconds later, he repeated this motion several times as he felt so shy but so good at the same time. He knew he should probably be returing the favor by touching you in any way what so ever, but he just felt so good that his brain wasn't fully working. He wasn't sure where to touch you or what to do, hints his hand swinging up and down in front of his face over and over again. When you finally bounced forward on your knees and sucked Jeongins fingers into your mouth while staring him straight in his eyes with a seductive moan, it was too late. He was so far gone, it took about 3 seconds before a high pitched moan escaped his mouth. He didn't break eye contact with you, he just watched as he caught his breath and came down from his high. He isn't sure what just happened, but he knows it was enough to make him cum in his pants so obviously it's something he was now interested in. However, as your mouth slides off his fingers hanging onto them with only a small saliva trail stuck to his finger tips, and as your hand moves away from his junk, I.N. falls into you and hides his face in your neck while his arms weakly hold your waist. He felt tired and guilty.

"Sorry...sorry...I didn't mean to so soon... sorry." He felt bad about finishing before you got anything that he kept apologising until he fell asleep in your arms as you comforted and reassured him.

[keig-hoe-takami]

Chapter 1

‘Ichirou, wait for me!’ Mina yelled to her furry eared friend who seemed to have completely forgotten she existed.

‘huh- oh! Sorry Mina I’m just super brain dead at the moment,’ she muttered, grey eyes looking down at her black school shoes,

‘Thinking about the entrance exam?’ Mina questioned, the UA entrance exam was tomorrow and despite wishing with all her heart that the two of them would make it to the elite hero school, Ichirou knew how hard it could be. Still, a girl could dream.

‘How’d you know,’ she replied somewhat sarcastically as the girls headed out of the front doors,

‘Don’t worry about it ‘rou- we just have to do our best! Besides, your quirk is crazy awesome, any hero academy would be happy to have you.’

‘Says you- your quirk is so cool,’ the girl lifted her hands, making pew pew sounds to mimic the alien queen’s quirk as the girl beside her giggled.

Two strong hands suddenly began to ruffle the two poor girls hair, Ichirou’s ears folding in irritation,

‘Hey if it isn’t pinky and puppy!’ The black haired boys arms dropped to their shoulders as he squeezed himself in between the best friends.

‘Hey Kiri, you ready for tomorrow?’ Ichirou asked, fixing her charcoal grey ears

‘You know I am, you feeling those biceps?’ He exclaimed,

‘We sure are.’ Mina rolled her eyes at the boys show of confidence, not that the girls didn’t enjoy the slightly insane things Kirishima came out with during the displays of manliness he saved just for them.

‘Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow okay?’ Ichirou said, breaking from the group to catch her bus,

‘Bright and early.’ Mina replied, throwing up a peace sign,

‘Later puppy!’ called Kiri as she turned down the neighbouring street.

The walk to the bus was refreshing, finally able to think without hearing Mr Ito drone on about quadratics. As long as the practical test was close combat, she’d be fine. Her quirk didn’t do very well at long distance, despite her heightened senses making it easy for her to sense things coming, her claws were only useful during one on one fighting. Her increased strength and speed also lending to the fighting style. As she reached the bus her swaying tail wrapped itself around her leg politely, as it often did in crowded places.The bus ride was long, Ichirou lived pretty far out of the city and unlucky for her, her mum was often too busy to pick her up. But still, the alone time was appreciated, she thought back to Mina’s words, her friend had been right, mutant quirks were often accepted at a pretty high rate, just lower than those with power up quirks, so even if she didn’t get into UA, the chances of achieving her dream and becoming a hero were still high.

‘Holy shit, we’re actually here!’ The red head exclaimed as the three friends crossed the gates to UA hero academy. Ichirou was nervous, rightfully so, but she also knew that there was no point in worrying- she just had to battle through the nerves and do her best!

‘I’m getting anxious- what if we haven’t revised enough?’ Mina fretted, despite her sunshiny demeanour, the pink girl often worried about academic skills- relying on Ichirou to help her with homework every other week.

‘Don’t panic Mina- we’ve been working so hard all year- its going to be fine.’ Ichirou tried to reassure her, squeezing her hand and sending a confident smile her way.

‘Yeah exactly, and even if we don’t do great in the written test- there’s still the practical exam! The perfect place to show off your manliness!’ Kirishima chimed in,

‘I don’t have any manliness Kiri!!’ the stressed girl cried in exasperation,

‘Pinky come on, you’ve got more manliness than me- you’re awesome!’ the boy wrapped an arm around his friends shoulder, pulling Ichirou with her. The three fell into each other, breaking out into giggles before realising exactly where they were, the steps to the entrance. This was it. They were going to make it!

The written exam ended up being easier than expected for Ichirou, but the same couldn’t be said for Kiri and Mina- the two wannabe hero’s had struggled and were hoping to do better in the practical part of the exam. Ichirou was pulled from her thoughts by the enthusiastic yelling of Present Mic, pro hero and teacher at UA as he explained the battle ground that would contain the practical segment of the exam.

The exam seemed like it would be pretty easy for Ichirou, being short range fighting, and the girl began to think that she might just actually get into the Hero Academy. The unlucky thing for Ichirou, was the fact that she wouldn’t be with Kiri and Mina for the exam, apparently being with people you already knew was an unfair advantage, so the girl would have no one to lean on.

Ichirou looked around her group for the exam, everyone looked pretty strong and kind of unapproachable, which was understandable considering the stakes. She was pretty sure she looked scary too, surveying the crowd and trying to figure out her opponents weaknesses. Her eyes met those of a boy with ashy blond hair who had been stood confidently near the front of the pack, his muscles flexing as he crossed his arms and scowled at her. Ichirou felt her face heat up as she quickly looked away. Now was not the time.

‘And the exam begins!’ Present Mic’s voice sounded round the arena as the ten minute countdown began.

Letting in a deep breath, Ichirou felt the change come over her, enhancing her senses as she feels the people around her start to move forward. She set of at a run, faster than her average speed thanks to her elevated wolf form, her puffed up tail swaying behind her as she picked up the pace. If she was going to get into UA, she was going to have to tap into her wolf senses more than ever before.

Her vermillion eyes spotted a villain at the end of the deserted street she’d been running down, sometimes it was best to get away from the pack. Directing all her attention towards the approaching bot, Ichirou extended the dark claws at the ends of her fingertips, aiming carefully for the perfect weak spot She found it, claws grabbing at the metal body of the machine and pulling the surface away to reveal the wires that she quickly cut through, claiming her first three points. The sweating girl was almost to busy rejoicing to sense the 2 point robot sneaking up behind her. Almost. At the very last minute, she turned, stretching her leg out with all her might and breaking off the head of the robot. Understanding now that there was no time to enjoy her quick victory, the girl hurried off in the direction of her other contestants, taking out robots on the way and slowly increasing her score.

As she reached the Main Street of the urban battleground, a loud booming noice filled her sensitive ears (an irritating downside to her quirk) leaving them ringing. She looked around for the creator of the horrible sound, almost giving up until she saw the blond boy from earlier surrounded by bots. Another explosion sounded from the vicinity and by the looks of things, they were thanks to the boys quirk. Great. Still, he looked like he needed help so the wolffish girl ran over, grabbing at the head of one of the robots that was advancing on his back, kicking at its body and effectively splitting it in two. She turned to another bot that looked worryingly close to the overwhelmed boy.

‘Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!’ The boy shouted aggressively as he aimed another ear bleeding explosion toward the oncoming bots.

‘I’m helping you out!’ Ichirou was shocked at his tone, but still sent him a smile as she scratched at her bots wires.

‘You’re stealing my bots, you extra!’ the boy directed more of his attention towards the girl as the onslaught of bots became easier to deal with,

‘Seriously? You think you could have finished this without me?’ She took a deep breath as her final bot fell.

‘Of course I could have, did you see my fucking quirk?’ All his attention coming to face the irritated girl beside him,

‘Yeah I saw your fucking quirk, heard it too.’ Ichirou replied, his red eyes finally meeting her own, she looked him up and down. Fuck. He’d looked hot before they’d started but now, with his hands smoking and sweat soaking his vest, he looked- well, shit, he looked even hotter.

‘Whatever, runt.’ The blond boy replied, turning down the street and leaving her behind,

‘I’m not a dog!’ She shouted after him, a blush forming on her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her brain, to find someone that brash and irritating hot? With no time to think, she set off in the opposite direction of the aggressive boy.

The ten minutes seemed to last a lifetime as Ichirou racked up points, sticking with a larger group of wanna be hero’s to protect them and herself. All was going well and good until suddenly a loud crash was heard from around the corner and a building began to tumble into the road. The cause of the huge destruction rounded the corner. The robot towered over the students, an unexpected obstacle that they hadn’t been warned about by Present Mic.

‘What the hell is that thing!’ A girl with strange tentacle like objects coming from her ears said what everyone was thinking.

‘Just run guys!!’ A tall, bulky boy cried out, already turning on his heals. Ichirou would have turned with him, deciding that her quirk, or anyone’s for that matter, would be useless against the machine, but before she could, her sensitive ears picked up on a whimpering from underneath the rumble. And without even realising that she’d started running, she was sprinting toward the sound to see what she could do. Fucking hero complex. She neared the rubble that the cries were coming from, there was at least two voices both seeming to be male. The threat of the robot still loomed above her, but Ichirou could only hope that she would make it in time.

‘Ouch- you’re crushing my arm!’ the higher voice cried, they were close,

‘Hey! Are you guys okay?’ Ichirou kneaded down, trying to find the boys but it was too dark,

‘What do you think?’ the high voice from earlier questioned in exasperation,

‘Dude, chill.’ A calmer voice rang out, ‘Do you think you could help us out?’

‘I cant really see much but I’m going to try move some stuff first.’ The huge robot was searching the area, Ichirou knew she couldn’t bring attention to herself, but she also knew one wrong move would result in the two boys being even more crushed. This was going to be tricky.

‘I think I could give you a hand with that- hold on’ For just a few seconds, light filled the tunnel the boys seemed to be stuck in, thankfully it was enough for Ichirou to gain her bearings.

‘Cool, give me one second.’ The girl reached for a large piece of metal that would hopefully clear an exit for them to climb out.

‘Thanks a lot, couldn’t have made it out without you.’ the boy who had managed to light up said appreciatively,

‘Yeah…’ the other, smaller boy with balls for hair said slowly, drool practically running down his chin as he definitely wasn’t looking at Ichirou’s face.

‘It was no problem, are you alright now? I just want to go see if I ca-’

‘TIMES UP!’ Present Mics voice rang around the arena, cutting the girl off.

‘Huh, guess we better head to the entrance.’ The blond boy looked worried, the rubble incident had lost all three of them precious time.

‘Yeah, I’m Ichirou Sato, by the way.’ She replied smiling at the boy next to her,

‘I’m Denki, Denki Kaminari. Nice tail.’ Denki replied as the three made their way slowly towards the larger group.

‘I like your tail too,’ said the purple headed boy, though somewhat creepier than Denki had been.

‘Thank you, your quirks really cool Denki, but um- I haven’t seen yours yet.’ Ichirou gestured toward the strange boy, giving him a tight smile.

‘Yes, I just-‘ there was a pause as the boy pulled one of the purple balls from his head, ‘I just do this.’

‘Oh, that’s pretty neat.’ Ichirou said raising her eyebrows at the slightly strange quirk.

‘Yeah that’s real cool buddy.’ The two shared a look, knowing that with a quirk like that, it would be surprising if the poor guy managed to get into UA.

“Chirou!’ Mina cried, running towards her tired friend and throwing her arms around her, ‘How do you think you did?’ the question was much more serious, Mina pulled back to stare into Ichirou’s eyes,

‘I think I did pretty well, my group was really good though, how did you guys do?’ She replied, now noticing a somewhat bummed out Kirishima standing behind Mina and scuffing his feet,

‘I worked as hard as I could, but Kiri here,’ the pink girl turned to poke him in the chest, ‘seems to think he did bad.’

‘What, why Kiri?’ the two girls turned their attention to their beat up looking friend,

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, turning on his heal ‘come on lets head home.’

‘Oh hell no, tell us what’s wrong.’ Mina was adamant to understand why Kiri was so annoyed at himself. He got like this at times when he didn’t think he’d done his best, all closed off and anxious to change the subject. Ichirou had been friends with him long enough to know that he needed to talk, but didn’t want anyone thinking he wasn’t manly.

‘Kiri, you can talk to us, you know that.’ Ichirou said, linking their arms together as Mina did the same on the other side, ‘If you don’t want to its perfectly fine, but we are right here.’

‘I know where you are, puppy. I just, I don’t know, I just think there was some guys in my group doing better than me, I mean there was this guy literally bulldozing through stuff, all I can do is block!’ Kiri replied, sighing in exasperation smiling and squeezing the two girls arms tight as they headed out of the gates,

‘Don’t worry about what other people can do, Kiri, your quirk is so awesome-’ Ichirou reassured him,

‘Its got pro hero potential.’ Mina chimed in, reiterating the words that Mr Ito so very often used to describe Kirishima,

‘Yeah exactly, you’re gonna be the manliest hero there ever was.’ The other girl finished, smiling up at the blushing boy,

‘Thanks guys, it- it really means a lot.’ There was a lull as the three friends now wondered what it would be like if they all managed to reach the next step of their dreams

‘Do you guys just wanna crash at my place?’ Mina asked, looking other at the two hopefully,

‘Hell yeah!’ Ichirou replied, ‘But I don’t know how much fun I’ll be- I’m so tired.’

‘Me too, don’t worry, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.’ Mina reassured her,

‘It was so awesome, it felt like I was a real hero.’ Kiri chimed in,

‘Yeah same! I felt so cool!’ Mina agreed,

‘Everything was so insane- did you get a huge robot?’

‘Uh-huh it was massive, I thought it was just supposed to be zero points!’

Ichirou smiled as her two friends shared their stories but her brain was just too tired to chime in, god she hoped the three of them made it.

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

A Smile is Something to Be Cherished, Dear: an Arthur Morgan x Modern!Reader Fanfic (2/?)

Chapter Title: Lionheart Chapter Summary: Y/N is bored around camp and gets up to some shenanigans. Hosea takes them hunting with him and Arthur. Chaos ensues.

The rest of the world forgets what happened in Valentine pretty quick, so you decide it's for the best if you do, too. You find out from Tilly that the guy who attacked you is named George Foreman. Immediately, your mind works on nicknames. George Foreverman. Georgie the Forgie. George Foreplay. You can't really say why you do this. If you have to take a guess, though, it's so you can insult him the next time you see him. If you ever do, that is. Hopefully, you won't. But it's best to be prepared.

It's a nice Saturday at Horseshoe Overlook. Bright sunny skies overhead, and not a trace of excessive heat or cold—perfect weather, to say the least. But you're bored as all hell. You've already finished your chores for the day, and everybody's "far too busy" to talk. Arthur went out a little while ago, too, so you can't rely on him to cure your boredom. And you can only take so much of playing make-believe with Jack before you go crazy.

There isn't much to do around camp. Nobody looks like they'd be interesting, either. Eventually, you give up and plop down on the ground by a tree, one of the bigger ones. The clothes the gang gave you aren't exactly comfortable, and you pull at the neckline of your shirt. Or maybe you're just used to modern designs. Hard to say.

You tilt your head back to rest against the trunk of the tree. Sunlight drifts down through the canopy. It's a beautiful sight, you suppose, if you really think about it—no light pollution from thousands of LED's, no sound of cars on the highway to disturb you... oh yes. It's lovely. Odd and slightly terrifying, but lovely.

"You look lost in thought, Y/N."

Hosea's voice startles you out of your reverie, and you blink a few times as he sits next to you. Over the last few weeks, you've decided you like him. He's a kind old man... but you can't help the feeling that some of it's a facade, hiding a dangerous outlaw underneath. Still, he hasn't given you reason not to trust him. Maybe you're just paranoid.

After a moment, you realize you haven't given him an answer. "'Cause I am," you eventually say. No sense in lying.

Hosea smiles and leans back against the tree alongside you. "What're you thinking about?"

Your brain short-circuits, every rational answer fleeing it like there's been a natural disaster. Before you know it, you find yourself blurting: "The sweet embrace of death."

There's a second where Hosea clearly doesn't process what you just said. But then? Then his smile slowly fades. He gives you a look, one with concern clearly written on it, and you feel your face growing hot.

"Well alright then," he says after a moment, and with an awkward cough. "... I should talk to Dutch..."

You want to kick yourself. Or throw yourself off Horseshoe Overlook's cliff. Or both. Hosea stands and walks away, murmuring something under his breath you can't quite catch. You hope it's nothing bad. You hadn't meant to say what you did. It just happened. Back in your time, you always use morbid humor. Your friends love it. But, you realize, you're over a century in the past; of course things aren't going to translate the same way.

Sighing, you get up and wander toward the horses. There's a brush beside one, and you absently start grooming it. You still don't have a horse of your own. But you want one. You find yourself thinking back to that appaloosa you saw at the stables in Valentine, dreaming of wide open trails and happy times. Maybe, if Dutch lets you tag along on a job or two, you can get enough money to buy the horse yourself. Wishful thinking, but it doesn't hurt.

"Havin' fun?"

Barely stifling a shriek, you jump and accidentally let go of the brush. It goes flying, landing at Arthur's feet as he watches you with an amused smile on his face.

"You always this jumpy?" He asks, picking up the brush and setting it on nearby stump. "Or am I really that intimidatin'?"

Both, you think wildly. Still: that's probably not what he wants to hear. Instead, you swallow whatever nerves you have and manage: "I was just... I have a lot on my mind, okay?"

"Sure." Arthur raises his hands in surrender. He watches you for a moment, then sighs and motions for you to follow him. "C'mon."

He's moving before you decide to listen, and you have to jog to catch up. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little, still apparently amused by the whole thing. Your face burns again.

"Where're we going?" You ask. You hope it's not Valentine. Enough trouble there already.

Arthur turns toward Dutch's tent, where Hosea's trying to explain something, something that's clearly of great import to him. He looks up when he hears you and Arthur approaching, and smiles as if you never had your conversation. Good. Here's hoping he's already forgotten it.

"Arthur," he greets, then turns to you. "Y/N."

"Hosea." Arthur motions toward you with his head. "Think they can tag along?"

The words tag along for what die on your lips as Hosea's expression turns thoughtful. He considers you for a moment, then shrugs and says: "Why not? Gotta teach 'em how to shoot, anyway."

You blink and glance up at Arthur. "Um..." You trail off, then continue a little stronger: "Shoot?"

"Three people'll be better than just two," Arthur adds, rolling right over you. "An' camp's getting low on meat."

It clicks then that they're going to take you hunting, and you find yourself biting your lip uncertainly. You've never even held a gun before, let alone shot one. And as if that isn't enough, you're not too sure you can be quiet enough to hunt. You're loud enough to wake the dead on a good day. Imagine what you would do in a silent forest where the objective is to sneak up on something.

"Do I get a say in this?" You ask, narrowing your eyes suspiciously when Hosea shrugs and starts heading for his horse.

"Depends," he calls over his shoulder, "would you rather stay cooped up here?"

You sigh, almost defeated, save for one last strand of hope. "But I don't even have a horse."

"I'll talk to Charles," Arthur chimes in. "He'll probably let you borrow Taima."

He smiles at the glare you throw his way, then walks off with a content whistle. You grumble to yourself. Sure, boredom isn't easy, but neither is being forced to do something—and Arthur and Hosea seem just fine doing that.

"If I were you, darlin,'" Dutch says, sounding entirely too entertained, "I'd start getting ready. Hosea's hunting trips usually last a couple days."

You stare up at him, making your eyes as wide and scared as possible. "Can you talk him out of this? Please?"

It's no use. Dutch just grins, holds his hands up in a "can't help you" gesture, and goes back in his tent. You're left staring off into space.

Who knows? Maybe you'll think of some way to avoid the whole thing.

// // // // //

No such luck.

Within a few hours, Hosea's already packed his horse and Arthur tells you that Taima is yours for the next couple days. You throw one more frantic look at Dutch, who tips his hat at you. A scowl in his general direction has him laughing as you try desperately to get into the saddle by yourself. You're not used to being outdoors, let alone riding horses. Eventually, though, you give up and look to Arthur for help.

"We'll work on it," he says as he cups his hands to make a temporary step.

You manage to swing yourself upright, feeling the slightest bit of vertigo when you look at the ground. Everything seems so much different on horseback. Hosea glances over his shoulder. Clearly, he's making sure you're okay, and you give him a small smile. Yep. You're fine.

That is, until Taima takes a step forward. Barely stifling a shriek, you cling to the saddle. You don't know what else to grab, but you can tell that you're already off balance. Through your panic, you can hear Arthur laughing and Hosea trying to stifle chortles of his own. You'll give them hell for that later. For now, you're just worried about falling face-first on the ground.

"Relax, Y/N," Arthur advises. You look over at him to see he's already on his horse, casual and ready to go. Embarrassment curdles in your stomach.

"I'm gonna die," you groan. "Or maybe I'm already dead. You're talking to my ghost."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur reaches out and steadies you in the saddle. His hand is warm on your shoulder. You have to struggle to hide your blush, praying to whatever deity is out there that he doesn't see it. Luckily, he says nothing. Good. You don't need any more humiliation.

After a few minutes, you're somewhat used to horseback (somewhat being the key word), and Hosea sets a slow trot as the pace. You can tell he's just being nice; he clearly wants to go a lot faster. Still, you appreciate the sentiment. It's not every day somebody takes the time to make sure you're comfortable. All you can do is enjoy it while you can.

Nobody talks all that much until you're a decent ways from camp. Then, Hosea and Arthur start chatting about old times, things you weren't there to see. You're glad they don't drag you into their conversation. This is the farthest you've ever been from camp, and you're a little overwhelmed by all the sights. Things look so different in the past. Where—when—you're from, everything's much faster, much more compact and crammed. People don't stop to say hello, or even look up from their business. But the ones in the past? The ones on the trail? They actually wave.

It's all foreign to you. Everything feels... better? You can't really tell if you think that way yet, but you're slowly realizing you might like it here. In 1899.

Stars above, what does that say about you?

"What about you, Y/N?" Hosea's voice snaps you back to reality. "You've been quiet."

Thankfully, your brain doesn't freeze, and you're able to answer his question rationally. "I'm sorry, Hosea," you say, reluctantly taking your eyes away from the scenery. "I guess I'm a little out of it. I didn't hear the question."

Hosea gives you a knowing look, as if he understands everything you're going through. You can't imagine he does. "That's alright. I asked how you're doing with everything that's going on. You..." He trails off, then chuckles. "Well, you came to us at a strange time."

Briefly, you consider lying. Maybe you should tell him that you're fine, that everything's a-okay. But somehow, you just know he'll see through it. From what Arthur said when the gang was leaving the Grizzlies, Hosea's a conman. He'll sniff out a lie better than any machine back in your day.

"I think I'm a little... overwhelmed," you admit. "Feels like I'm flying through everything at warp-speed, and Kirk ain't slowin' down the Enterprise anytime soon."

Hosea blinks, and you kick yourself. He probably understood maybe half that sentence, if any of it. Face burning, you turn to Arthur, who also looks confused.

"In my time," you start slowly, "everything's a lot faster. Here? It's pretty slow, but I'm still moving at my speed." You sigh and absently stroke Taima's mane. "Guess it'll just take some more getting used to."

There's a moment where you think they didn't understand that, either, but then Hosea nods. "You must miss it."

"Yeah." You think of everything that was happening in your old life—things that weren't so good. "I do."

Thankfully, neither Hosea nor Arthur decides to continue the conversation, and the three of you make some ground toward O'Craig's Run. You still don't know how you're going to do with hunting. Hosea saying bear is on the agenda doesn't help, either.

Mauled via grizzly, you think. What a way to go.

// // // // //

"You sure about this, Hosea?" Arthur asks, eyeing the bait uncertainly. The three of you decided to lay out a trap for the bear, then ambush it when the time comes. "Ain't exactly a foolproof plan."

From where you're crouched behind a boulder, you absently draw in the mud with a stick. You've been waiting for the better part of thirty minutes. No bear.

"This'll work." Hosea sounds so certain, you almost believe him. He turns to you and motions toward the brush with his head. "Y/N, why don't you go check on it? Make sure it's set right. We only got one shot at this."

You open your mouth to say something, but Arthur beats you to it.

"Maybe I should go." He looks at you, then at Hosea. "They don't even have a gun."

Hosea rolls his eyes. "Trust me: we would've heard that lumbering beast if it was anywhere near here."

You shrug and stand, trying your best to be quiet in the shrubbery. Still, you're breaking sticks all over the place as you approach the bait, wincing with each step. Finally, you reach it and kneel down. You're not sure what to check for, but everything looks alright. Sighing, you start to stand. Maybe Hosea'll know more about it than you do.

A low rumble freezes you in your tracks.

Slowly, you raise your eyes—wide and terrified—to see an absolutely massive bear standing a few feet away. It definitely doesn't look happy. For some absurd reason, you find yourself thinking back to a movie you saw, about three guys who survive a plane crash. If you remember right, one of them got killed by a bear. You wonder if that's going to happen to you.

"Uh," you manage around a hammering heart. "Guys?" Somehow, you sound oddly calm. "Bear's here."

The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. The bear rises on to its hind legs, clawed paws ready for what's sure to be a killer swipe. You feel a hand fist in your collar and yank you back, just as a claw barrels toward your face. It misses you by inches.

Arthur fires several loud, quick gunshots, hitting the beast with such precision, you think for sure they'll kill it. The bear just flinches. As you stand, rooted to the ground, it gives one final look at the three of you, then barrels off into the forest.

"Y/N, you alright?" Hosea's hand is still holding your collar, and he sounds worried. "Did it hit you?"

And now Arthur turns to look at you, the same question in his eyes. You blink a few times. It's hard, you decide, coming back to reality after a brush with death. Maybe you'll have to work on that.

"I'm good." Your voice sounds far away to your own ears. "I think... I think I just need to... sit down for a bit—"

Your legs wobble, and the next thing you know, you're slumping forward toward the ground. Luckily, Arthur reacts and catches you before you face-plant.

"You're alright, Y/N," he says, low and sure. "You're alright."

It takes you a moment, but you eventually get a hold of yourself and stand on your own. "Ye-ah," you say, albeit shakily. "I think I can add hunting to the 'Things I Never Want to Do Again' list."

A/N: And here’s the next chapter! I’m trying my best to update this every three days or so, but it might happen more frequently or less frequently. We’ll have to see. 

AO3 LINK

Previous Chapter: High Hopes, Higher Expectations

Next Chapter: In Progress 

Inspired Playlist Track: Of Monsters and Men | “King and Lionheart”

[cosmicpeko]

“Christmas Night” | FuyuPeko Christmas Exchange

Word count: 1,787

OTP: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x Peko Pekoyama | Danganronpa 2

Story type: Fanfiction

Short summary: Following the end of the Hope Restoration Program, everyone in the Future Foundation headquarters was ready to spend another night in recovery and rehabilitation. Fuyuhiko, however, who managed to regain track of the time and date, was able to find out that night was not like any other. And he had just the perfect person in mind to tell first.

Important notes: This is my gift/fic for the FuyuPeko Christmas Exchange event hosted by @may-we-have-peace! The user I’ve been assigned was @flannelspacegay and since I wasn’t given any prompts, I tried my best with the ones I had in store ;_; Please remember English is not my first language so there might be some grammar mistakes or things that don’t make sense? Anyway enjoy this will be super short!

Read on AO3

ㅡ

"Won't you sleep a little?"

Between the greasy white walls of room 102 echoed the wind, howling cold from its half-closed, only window. That's how Peko knew it was winter ㅡ the freezing air sliced her cheeks. Since she woke up, she had been rebellious to any sort of request for some reason ㅡ including those of the guard nurses to leave the window closed, so that the toxic fog of the outside wouldn't enter the building's rooms and corridors. Reluctant to give up in spite of the many reminders, Peko's room was assigned an air filtration machine, which unstoppably produced some kind of metallic noise that would keep Peko awake.

Fuyuhiko, on the other side of the room, kept looking at her, leaning with all his weight on the door he had closed behind him. The change in temperature between room 102 and the rest of the building was enough to make Fuyuhiko shiver, but he decided on trying not to antagonize her by forcing the nurses requests on her newly rebellious self ㅡ rather, he carefully approached the little, uncomfortable mattress where Peko's bony, thin body was resting. He helped her be seated then, so that she would feel at ease looking at him on the same height. Her composure always made her look like a soldier, ready to receive an order any time.

Peko was unquestionably skinny ㅡ her athletic structure had been lost during months of unconscious fasting. Although everyone was constantly fed during the simulation, and that was also why Fuyuhiko hadn't lost much weight ㅡ those who were killed in Jabberwock Island entered a comatose state which made their body function irregularly. Depending on how much their body was into the coma, more physical damage was found, like PTSD*. That was also why Peko didn't speak.

As a result of the trauma experienced during her execution, her lungs, and her whole respiratory system was on the edge of collapse ㅡ as she could concretely feel the blades still pierce her body, she was having a hard time breathing. Oxygen depleted, starting again was an extremely difficult task for the swordswoman.

Fuyuhiko found more strength in helping her than helping himself.

Not one day would pass without him trying to guard and protect her, ignoring the rest of his classmates and sacrificing his own recovery. Being without her had been of excruciating pain ㅡ it took him so long to accept her death, until it was proven fake. Since then, a moment couldn't pass without him needing to make sure she was alive. So he wouldn't give up: he would stand before room 102 day and night, fighting whoever got in his way, waiting for visitation time ㅡ and everyone knew that time was Fuyuhiko's only. At night, surveillance was extended to the whole hall, so it was easier to dodge; and he knew he could be finally be with her without worrying or fighting.

The blonde took a sit next to her, facing her side with his entire body, emulating her composure.

"I found an old calendar in the guardhouse and spent the afternoon doing the math. I couldn't wait to tell you what's up today."

Peko, who was deeply insomniac and a little confused, rubbed her tired eyes with her hands and goggled a little, struggling to see without her glasses but still trying to focus on his face, giving him a sign of her attention.

Fuyuhiko smirked again, delighted.

"I think you could tell by my freezing ass-" the girl's sudden coughing caught him by surprise for a second, but while trying to make sure she was okay, he found out she cracked under a little laugh. It took a while before Peko got on her track again, struggling to breath, but visibly humored. He continued, "...but this is Christmas night. It's officially december 25th."

Only by mentioning Christmas, the blonde had Peko beaming. She raised both her eyebrows, then melted in a sweet, little smile. Christmas had always been an important tradition for the Kuzuryuu family. Both Fuyuhiko's mother and father, although very conservative and loyal to the culture of old Japan, adopted this western recurrence for their family. During Christmas night, they used to hide presents and sweets all over the house for their children to find. That Peko knew, because every year, she would be sent from her Master and his sister to find all the hiding spots, making it hard for the Kuzuryuu's to think about more clever solutions for the following year. Just by remembering, she could feel the house's warmth intensely on her skin ㅡ she could picture the oven in the kitchen, too high for her at the time to reach, in constant function, while Fuyuhiko's nanny was busy cooking all kinds of dishes for the day, both western and Japanese.

The boy could notice Peko's smile even though she tried to hide it by lowing her head slightly, letting her silvery hair slide on her shoulders ㅡ only that sight was enough to make him smile two-to-three times brighter.

"You remember, right?! 'Tis a special night, this one, Peko!"

That was the first time in years she had seen her like that ㅡ he thought nothing was going to ruin that moment for them. Nonetheless, they were conscious of the fact that those moments were not to come back anymore.

Brainwashed by despair, they were guilty of many crimes ㅡ including killing their family and masters, who they loved deeply, burning their house down, massacring the closest members of their clan and guiding the rest into their same madness. They couldn't remember any of it, and probably didn't know about it, but they could feel it. But even with that, they weren't able to feel sad or guilty ㅡ like if that ability was surgically removed from their brains. Evil lurked around them without ever touching them. They, who were once despair embodied, were blessed to be born again, could never be infected again.

"I hid something for you to be found, yesterday." now calmer, Fuyuhiko searched for the swordswoman's attention, who immediately raised her head again at his level. That alone was enough to make Peko blush lightly. Her tired, but still flaming red eyes regained strength immediately, as they started flashing quickly from a corner of the room to the other, analyzing the blonde's body and behind his back, with the same curiosity a child would have if they exchanged places ㅡ trying her best, she also moved her body to better observe her surroundings, resulting in a big laugh from Fuyuhiko's side.

However, he decided to anticipate her and unveil the secret, preventing her to make too much of an effort ㅡ he knew she would complete any task for him, to the point of putting her life at risk.

Getting up on his feet, and lowing his back, he managed to pull out from under the mattress what seemed to Peko like a piece of fabric. It took a while to realize that piece of fabric the other was holding was effectively stuffed and shaped as a little panda ㅡ her favourite animal. The black was heavily marked with some kind of ink that resembled that of a pen. The eyes were badly sewn buttons. Overall, it looked creepy. But she couldn't help but feeling overwhelmed ㅡ she freezed, as she was holding the little gift too close to her eyes, trying to capture every detail without her glasses.

Confused by her reaction, Fuyuhiko pouted. "I managed to shape a metallic spring from my bed as a sewing needle with the little knowledge I have of crafting, and literally sewn my sheets." he lowed his head, embarassed, "That's honestly trash, but like, I thought you could use some company when I'm not around."

Lost in his own words, he didn't realize until he heard it, that Peko was sobbing lightly, challenging her own lungs.

Since her awakening, every little emotion had a huge impact on her. From not being capable of feeling much - as she taught to, from a very young age - she was suddenly weak to any small change of mood. To Fuyuhiko, it was like returning to planet Earth and crushing on its surface. He rushed towards her again, sat on the bed, and cupped her face with his hands while brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "Shit- please don't cry," he panicked instantly, and more so when Peko slightly rubbed her cheeks onto his hands, cuddling slowly ㅡ that would be reassuring, if it wasn't Peko he had before him. Something clearly changed after the whole experience in Jabberwock Island.

He took a while to understand what the swordswoman was trying to say. She was happy ㅡ and that was her way of communicating her newly discovered feelings. "We're the only ones left," Fuyuhiko whispered, "who can carry on our family's legacy." His hands slided on her shoulders and arms, until he finally grabbed her hands again. "I don't wanna do it without you, Peko." Hope was good, he thought. He couldn't help but smile because as he watched her being vulnerable and tired, he could see his future ㅡ a bright future, where a thousand more of Christmas nights would happen, and they would spend them in a proper room, where pretty lights would replace those of the beeping machinery above her head, and the heat of an actual house would surround them instead of the cold wind Peko was so stubborn not to defend herself from ㅡ just to feel alive. A future where they would be togheter.

Peko was in love with that hope ㅡ and she was in love with Fuyuhiko. Love doesn't need words, and it goes far, it goes beyond the devotion and the loyalty of a tool. She opened her lips softly.

"Thank you..."

The boy was left astonished by that attempt of hers, but deep down, he knew that was the right time for her to do it.

He kept smirking, literally on the moon. Moving his body towards her, he gently guided her head against his own chest, then rested a cheek among her silver hair. Peko could feel his heartbeat through his bones ㅡ so fragile, yet so powerful. To her, it was all so natural, just meant to be. So she closed her eyes, soothed by that rhythm, and immediately fell asleep, squeezing the little gift she received that night in her thin arms.

Fuyuhiko found out a while later, but kept hugging her and rocking back and forth, like he was holding just the most delicate thing in the world.

"I can't wait to spend my life with you."

ㅡ

Everyone, meri christmis (~￣³￣)~

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 38: The Strength of Others

After school, Ren went looking for Sumire. Eventually she found her. “Sumire…”

“Oh. Senpai” Sumire said, surprised.

“Um, are you feeling alright?” Ren asked.

Sumire paused for a moment. “Well, I feel a little better, but I’m actually going to talk with Dr. Maruki this afternoon.”

“Oh. I see” Ren said, a bit disappointed.

Sumire smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re still my senpai. You’ll always be someone I can turn to.” Ren lit back up. “But…”

Ren smiled. “I get it. And really, it’s fine. I just knew you were having a hard time today, and I wanted to be sure you’re alright.”

Sumire giggled. “Thank you senpai.” She continued to walk to Dr. Maruki’s office.

Meanwhile, Ren got a text from Ann.

Ann: Hey, Shiho asked us to hang out, and she wants you to come over too.

Ann: Ryuji and I are already outside the school with her.

Ren: Alright. See you in a few.

Ren headed down to the entrance and met up with Ann, Ryuji, and Shiho. “Hey.”

“Hey” Ann said back.

“So, where are we goin’?” Ryuji asked.

“Well, it’s been a bit since we just hung out,” Shiho began, “so I just thought we could do whatever.”

“That sounds great!” Ann said.

“Totally!” Ryuji added.

“Oh. Um, do you want me here then?” Ren asked. They all looked at her. “It’s just… You’ve known each other for a while. I’d hate to intrude…”

Shiho grabbed Ren’s hand. “It’s OK. I asked you to come along.”

“Yeah,” Ann said. “We’d still be fractured if it weren’t for you.”

Ren smiled. “Thanks.”

“Oooo, we should head to the arcade,” Ann suggested. “It’s been a while since we went together.”

“Yeah,” Shiho said.

Ryuji paused for a moment. “What’s that look for?” Ann asked.

“Well…” Ryuji began. He sighed. “I have been recently.”

“Huh?” Shiho said.

“What for?” Ann asked.

“Well, it was when Ren asked us to look after Sumire,” Ryuji explained.

“Oh…” Ann said.

“Yoshizawa-chan?” Shiho asked.

Ren nodded. “She’s going through a lot right now.”

“Oh… Right…” Shiho said. She looked off.

“Shiho…” Ann said. “You can’t blame yourself for everything.”

“I know,” Shiho said. “It’s just… I was so caught up in fighting my own demons that I couldn’t see anyone else’s.”

“It was like that for me too,” Ann said. Shiho was surprised. “I was so preoccupied with what Kamoshida was doing to me that I didn’t give much of a thought to what he was doing to you. I thought I was helping, but I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

Shiho stood still for a moment. “Heh heh” she giggled. “We can't keep doing this. We’re apologizing so much for what that monster did to us. At some point we need to learn to let it go.”

Ann chuckled back. “You’re right.” The two of them continued laughing.

Once they stopped, Shiho turned to Ren. “So, how do you know Yoshizawa?”

Ren was caught off guard. “Well, we ran into each other on the train. She was standing up to give an old lady her seat, but some business jerk sat in it instead. I offered to help, but she said it was fine. Once we reached our stop, we got out and started talking.”

“I see,” Shiho said. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’ head out!” The four of them nodded and they went to the arcade.

Once they got there, Ann gave a sly look to Ryuji. “You didn’t by chance play THAT game with Sumire-chan, have you?”

Ryuji smirked. “Are you kidding? I would never play THAT game without my trusted partner, right.”

“Of course” Ann said. “So let’s…”

“GO!” they both shouted. They rushed to a dancing game machine. They paid and started a dance off.

Ren was slightly confused. “Don’t worry,” Shiho said. “They do this every time they come here.”

“I see…” Ren said.

“I usually watch, since it can be entertaining,” Shiho continued. “But I was thinking, maybe the two of us could try something instead.”

Ren nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Shiho looked at a light gun game called Gun About. “This looks fun.” They approached it and began playing two player. While they weren’t fully adept at the game, they could play it well enough.

However, when things got really challenging in the game, Ren noticed Shiho seemed to change. Shiho would get REALLY into it and start yelling at the game intently. When they eventually lost, Shiho got scared for a second. She looked around only to find Ren looking at her. She calmed down. “...Sorry.”

Ren was concerned, but felt like not pushing it at the moment. She simply smiled and said “It’s fine.”

From across the arcade, they could hear Ann and Ryuji still competing with their dancing game. “Oh yeah! Take THAT!” Ryuji shouted.

“Oh no you don’t!” Ann countered.

“Wanna go watch them finish?” Shiho asked. Ren nodded. The two of them walked over. Ryuji and Ann were actually fairly skilled.

Eventually though, Ryuji just barely managed to beat out Ann. “Oh YEAH! Who’s the king?!”

“Ugh, no fair” Ann pouted. “You came here without me!”

“I did so all the time back when I was in track, and you never got mad at me then” Ryuji argued.

“WHAT?!” Ann shouted.

“Oh um, you didn’t know?” Ryuji stammered. Ann glared at him. “I never played the game without you before… Honest.”

Ann still glared at him. However, she just looked away and said “I’ll believe you. For now.”

“It’s always like this,” Shiho said. Ann and Ryuji looked up to see their friends.

“How do you manage?” Ren asked.

“Well, they’re my friends,” Shiho answered. The two of them giggled.

“Hey! Quit it” Ann asked, annoyed.

“Yeah, don’t make it sound like we’re a bunch of weirdos” Ryuji added.

“Relax,” Shiho said. “We’re here to have fun, aren’t we?” That softened Ann and Ryuji a little bit. “C’mon, let’s keep going.” They spent some more time playing different games at the arcade. Ren was a little concerned about Shiho, but she didn’t seem to react to anything else like she did with Gun About.

Eventually, they left and went somewhere to eat. “Man, it’s been a while since I’ve felt like this,” Ryuji said.

“I know what you mean,” Ann said. “Although next time I’ll win for sure.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryuji said. “I’d like to see that.”

They continued to argue with each other about the dancing game. Ren looked on for a bit until Shiho asked “You’re rooting for them too, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Ren said, caught a little off guard. She looked at the squabbling pair again. “Yeah.” She turned back to Shiho. “How do you know they like each other?”

“Well, I’ve been their friend for a while now,” Shiho explained. “I can just sense these things.”

“Any tips I can pick up on?” Ren asked.

Shiho chuckled. “Well, let me ask you this: How long did it take for Ryuji to ask you out?”

“Almost immediately” Ren answered. “Well, technically, he was gearing up for it when I shot him down.”

“I see,” Shiho said. “When I first met Ryuji, it was kind of the same. One of our first interactions, he made a pass at me. I kindly rejected him, saying I wasn’t interested in anything like that.”

“I see,” Ren said.

“Although, I didn’t hate him for it, and we still remained friends,” Shiho said. “He hasn’t tried since. However, he has yet to ask Ann out even once.”

“You’re kidding,” Ren said, surprised.

Shiho shook her head. “That’s Ryuji’s tell. Whenever he’s serious about something, he’ll try his best not to mess it up. You should have seen him in his track days. He might be lacking in the brains department, but he was really serious about perfecting everything about his track performance.

It’s the same with him asking people out. He usually expects failure, so he doesn’t give much thought whenever he asks someone out. However, he REALLY wants it to work out with Ann, so he hasn’t asked.”

“I see,” Ren said. “So what’s Ann’s tell?”

“Well, honestly, it’s kind of the same,” Shiho said. “Ann’s used to all sorts of attention from guys, so she never pays it much mind. However, she does care about what Ryuji thinks.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that,” Ren said. Shiho looked at her. “Something happened recently where it ended with Ann and Ryuji having a heat to heart.”

“I see,” Shiho said. She giggled. “Did Ryuji say something stupid again?”

“Yeah,” Ren said.

Shiho smiled. “Poor Ryuji. Always so close, yet always no cigar.” The two of them laughed.

Ryuji and Ann stopped squabbling. “Hm?” Ryuji grunted.

“What are you two talking about?” Ann asked.

Shiho and Ren looked at each other, turned to them, and said “Nothing” before giggling some more. Ann and Ryuji were curious, but couldn’t think of anything to follow up on that.

After they finished eating, Ryuji and Ann headed home. Shiho was about to do the same when Ren grabbed hold of her. “Wait,” she said. Shiho looked at her. Ren let go. “Um, you don’t have to tell me, but what happened with the whole Gun About thing?”

Shiho looked distant for a second. “I suppose I should open up to you about myself a little more. It’s only fair, since I did it with Ryuji and Ann.” Shiho refocused herself. “I guess… I just got a little overwhelmed. And recently when I’ve felt overwhelmed, it was because of Kamoshida.”

“Oh” Ren said.

“It sucks,” Shiho said. “I vowed to bring back the volleyball team, but if I can’t get over Kamoshida, how can I bring everyone back?”

Ren was confused. “You haven’t started?”

Shiho shook her head. “I’ve been practicing on my own, but I don’t have the confidence. I want to bring the team together, but if I’m still afraid, I don’t know what will happen.”

Ren pondered this for a second. “Um, no offence, but I think you might have this backwards.”

“Huh?” Shiho said, surprised.

“It’s just, what you said got me thinking” Ren said. “Back at home, I was incredibly anti-social. But ever since I transferred here and met new people, I’ve gained a whole lot of confidence. I’ve been able to do things I hadn’t even thought possible back where I come from. So maybe you don’t need to get over Kamoshida to bring the team back; you need to bring the team back to get over Kamoshida.”

Shiho was stunned. “You’re right. Heh heh. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. One of the reasons I love volleyball is because it’s a team effort in the first place. Everyone has their part to play. You can’t function alone.” Shiho smiled. “I’ve been so blinded by the darkness in that man’s heart that I had forgotten that.” She turned to Ren. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Ren responded.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, do you know what your tell is?” Shiho asked.

“Huh?” Ren asked.

“I think I figured it out, but I want to be sure,” Shiho continued. “So, what do you do when you like someone?”

“Oh, well…” Ren said. “Usually, I just… let them drift away…”

“Huh” Shiho said, not expecting that answer.

“It’s just, whenever I’ve liked someone in the past, it always ended up not working out” Ren explained. “So I’ve gotten in the habit of not trying…”

Shiho smiled. “Looks like it’s time for me to return the favor.” Ren looked at her. “We’re all still growing, so while you have come a long way since coming to Tokyo, I’m sure you can gain enough confidence that when you find someone you like you can ask them out.”

Ren smiled. “I hope so too.”

“Trust me,” Shiho said. “Everyone has a part to play. I’m sure someone will come along to play the part of your lover.”

Ren giggled. “You really have what it takes to lead a team.” Shiho blushed. Ren blushed soon after. “Thank you.”

Shiho smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Hope-Shiho Suzui: Rank 3

Ren and Shiho split off to head back to their homes.

Once Ren entered LeBlanc, Sojiro turned to her. “Heh. You look chipper today.”

Ren smiled. “I finally had a little time to relax this after noon with some friends.”

“I see,” Sojiro said. “Maybe I should-” Before he could finish his thought, he got a phone call. “Hello?...Oh, yes...I see...Very well...See you soon.” He hung up. “I have to close early tonight.”

Ren nodded. “Very well.”

Just as Sojiro was about to leave, Ren heard him mutter under his breath “I hope you’ll be ready soon. I’d like you to meet her.” She found it confusing, but didn’t think she could ask Sojiro about just what that meant. At least, not yet.

Almost immediately after Sojiro left, Ren got a phone call. “Hello?”

“Ah. I’m glad you picked up.”

Ren was confused. “Lavenza?”

“That is correct,” she confirmed. “I thought we could make good on our bargain.”

Ren tried figuring out what she meant. “Oh, you mean me taking you about town?”

“Indeed” Lavenza said. “I’ll be waiting.” Lavenza hung up. Ren felt like she had nothing better to do, so she left LeBlanc and headed out.

Once Ren made it to the Velvet Room door, she saw Lavenza standing outside. “Hey” she said.

“Hello” Lavenza responded.

“So, do you just want me to show you around town, or…?” Ren asked.

“Actually, I have a specific request,” Lavenza said. “I have heard tell of a place where the atmosphere makes you feel like you’re in outer space. Where the food is more massive than the cosmos themselves.”

Ren thought about that for a moment. She then realized what Lavenza meant. “Oh, are you thinking of the Big Bang Burger?”

“I believe that is what I’ve heard people call it, yes” Lavenza answered. “You seem to know about it, so could you take me there?”

Ren smiled. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Ren started to walk, but felt a tug on her skirt. She looked back to find Lavenza holding on. “Um, if it’s alright with you, could we please hold hands?” Ren smiled and reached her hand out. Lavenza grabbed hold, and the two of them walked over to Big Bang Burger.

Upon entry, they heard some clapping. Lavenza looked over to see some of the wait staff congratulating an exhausted-looking patron. “Trickster, what is going on there?”

Ren looked over. “Oh, they just completed the Big Bang challenge.”

“What is this ‘Big Bang Challenge’?” Lavenza asked.

“Well, they give you this enormous burger, and if you can finish it, you get rewarded” Ren answered.

“I see,” Lavenza said. When they approached the counter, Lavenza placed one of her hands up there as best she could. “Hello. I wish to partake in the Big Bang Challenge.”

“Huh?” The server said, confused. She looked down at Lavenza. She smiled nervously. “I’m sorry, but we have an age limit. I’m afraid you can’t take the Big Bang Challenge. But I can get you a kid’s meal, if you would like.”

“I see,” Lavnza said, slightly disappointed. She looked at Ren. “Would it be possible for you to try the Big Bang Challenge?”

Ren looked down at Lavenza. Lavenza’s big doe eyes made it hard for her to say no. “Sure, I guess.”

“Then it is settled,” Lavenza said. She turned back to the server. “She will take the challenge, and I will graciously accept your offer of this ‘kid’s meal’.”

“Awe, aren’t you just adorable” the server said. “Right this way then.” Ren and Lavenza got seated.

Lavenza got her meal, and shortly after Ren was presented with the Big Bang Challenge. “Woah!” Lavenza said. She looked hesitant. Ren looked over. “You… You don’t have to eat all of that… if you don’t want to…”

Ren saw that Lavenza was feeling slightly guilty for putting her up to this. She simply smiled and said. “It’ll be alright.”

“3...2...1...GO!” the server said. Ren began eating.

Lavenza looked on in amazement. “Woah! Can she really do it?” she wondered. Ren continued. “She's only doing this because I asked her to.” Ren kept going. Lavenza got determined. “YOU CAN DO IT! GO GO GO!” Ren gained a second wind and started eating faster.

Thanks to Lavenza’s encouragement, Ren managed to finish the challenge. “Oh my. We have another champion” the server said. “Congratulations!”

“Heh. Thanks” Ren said, a little out of it. “Can I get some water?”

“Of course.” The server went to fulfill Ren’s request.

“Hey,” Lavenza said. Ren managed to look at her. “Thanks.” Ren nodded.

“Here you go” the server said, giving Ren her water. “And here’s your prize.”  She handed Ren her prize.

While Ren was resting up, Lavenza finished eating her food. Once she was finished, Lavenza looked at Ren. “Are you… able to move?” Ren nodded. “Very well. I am ready to leave.” Ren paid for the food, and the two walked out. Once outside, Lavenza turned to Ren and asked. “How are you feeling?”

Ren looked at her. “Well, I’ve been better, but I also feel some sense of accomplishment. So, overall, I think I’m alright.”

“I see…” Lavenza said.

“Is there any reason you wanted to take the Big Bang Challenge?” Ren asked.

“Well, when you told me what it was, I thought it would be a good way to test my meddle,” Lavenza explained. Ren was surprised, but intrigued. “Ever since this whole thing began, I’ve been thinking. While it had not come to pass, there was a being with the ability to split me in two and overpower my Master. Such strength is unimaginable. As my Master’s assistant, I should be able to protect him, but…”

Ren smiled. “I get ya.”

“I asked Master if I could go out and learn about the world in order to get stronger, but even then I had to ask you to escort me as well…” Lavenza lamented.

Ren patted Lavenza’s head. “Wanna know something?” Lavenza nodded. “There’s a strength in that as well. Admitting something like that isn’t easy. It can be painful. But if you’re determined, you can utilize something you think is a weakness and turn it into strength. Of course, having people on your side is helpful too.”

“I see,” Lavenza said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ren said.

Lavenza thought. “You know, I noticed that you began doing better at the challenge once I started cheering you on. Such is the strength of the Wild Card.” Ren was curious about where this was going. “Your bonds with people and Personas alike are your strength. Perhaps if I were to have been split, you could have made me whole again.”

Ren smiled. “I’d like to think so. Although, that isn’t just my strength.” Lavenza was curious. “I think everyone could tap into that kind of strength.”

Lavenza thought. “Indeed. The Fool, the card that represents you on this journey, is also a representation of humanity as well. Perhaps even I could learn from humanity’s strength. Of course, I will continue asking you to assist me.”

Ren smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Strength Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.

Strength-Lavenza: Rank 1

“Although, I guess I will have to wait a bit until I can take the Big Bang Challenge,” Lavenza said.

“Aw, it’ll be alright,” Ren said. “I mean, there are advantages to you being you now. I mean, you got that cool rocket ship toy, right?”

Lavenza took out the rocket ship toy and smiled. “I guess that’s true. This is indeed amusing.” She began playing with it.

Ren giggled. She reached out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” Lavenza nodded. She took Ren’s hand, and Ren guided her back to the Velvet Room. Afterwards, she returned to LeBlanc and fell asleep soon after, since she didn’t have the energy to do much else after the Big Bang Challenge.

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Eleven

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. Explicit language cause of course. Angst. Fluff.

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only. 

Word Count: 3, 516 words

A/N: GUYSSSSSSS (sry for being so obnoxious lmao). I’m so sad this fic is almost coming to an enddddddddd. (I’ve had a lot of coffee can you tell?) No, but seriously, I love it so much. 😥😥 Granted “Mr. Evans II” will be coming out soon after but stilllllll. Ugh. We should totally do something for the finale of it, tho!! Like a special little something that can live in my blog. Please send messages or asks with any ideas you might have!! They are all welcomed and no idea is too “stupid”.

Read Chapter Ten Here!!

***

Peace. Silence. Never-ending stillness. And yet- there was also this sense of excitement. Warmth. Comfort. 

That was what laying next to Mr. Evans in bed felt like. 

You were pressed up to eachother, both on your backs. Your sides barely brushing and a shock of electricity passing through your fingertips as they brush against each other in a temptingly fleeting touch of skin.

Your chest ached with an overwhelming need to hold his hand, but you were afraid that he wouldn’t want to or that he’d push you away. 

But his own hand twitches, leaving you to wonder if you're wrong in your anxieties. 

You center yourself with the feel of him instead. Of his body heat radiating onto your skin. Of his scent filling your nostrils from every side, dizzying you. 

The action itself was so simple, so mundane and maybe that was exactly what made it so incredible. The fact that it wasn’t riddled with hidden anxieties, fears. The fact that for this moment, you were just two people who wanted each other close and that despite not knowing exactly what came after this moment of complete tranquillity that, that was all this was in the now. 

And that the now was all that mattered. Not the future or the raging storm that was inevitable to come.

Your heartbeats were steady and alive and your nerve endings thrummed with life and you almost wondered how you would do without it; this feeling. Almost. You pushed the thought away as soon as it flashed in your brain, not wanting to disturb the peace. 

It’s funny how- even in the most peaceful moments, one can still feel so awake and in tune with another. 

You turn on your side to look at him. There were so many words to describe him and yet none of them were enough. None would do him justice

He was flat on his back, facing the ceiling. His other hand was folded over his stomach and his face was scrunched into a thoughtful frown. His gentle gaze was hardened, lost but guarded. 

You relished in his beauty like you’d done so many times before, but couldn’t help but feel this time it was entirely different. Intimate. For the first time you could see him clearly.

He was so beautiful, so consuming. Everything about him.

His passion for all literature, the way he smiles when he’s happy or sad or smug. The way he furrows his brows scratches his beard, purses his lips when he’s working or concentrating. The way he engrosses himself with others, the way he gives his time to make sure everyone is comfortable and happy in his class.

The way he looks at you, eyes glimmering with a tiny twinkle that you could never quite place. The light of him and how kind he was. 

As you watch him, you take in all the curves of his face. Some were soft dips and gentle, some were sharp and abrupt, all of them were perfect though. Because all of them made him. Him.

You suddenly felt something so strong, so overwhelming, so, so....powerful press against your chest. It filled your ribs, infested your very blood with its sweet fervor. Marked you with his scent, his gaze, his very essence. 

It feels like your chest is expanding so wide with happiness and warmth and-and...

And you loved it. This. What he made you feel. It was scary, being so attached to someone else. But you loved that it was him. You loved the prospect of being able to be called his. You loved...

Holy fuck. 

“Holy fuck.” The words tumble out of you in a rough whisper, your thoughts exploding out of your mouth without regard to anything else.

You were shocked as the realization dawned. Not at the realization itself but at the fact that it didn’t really shock you at all. 

Because you’d known. You’d known the moment you laid eyes on him. 

It was just now you could finally articulate this feeling. This feeling only he could make you feel. 

You-

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

Mr. Evans is leaning on his side in a split second, voice is coarse with concern and his beautiful face is peering down at you with furrowed brows.

You lick your lips slowly, mind racing, putting everything together a hundred miles per second. 

“Sweetheart?”

You look at him, but you aren’t seeing him. Not really- too busy trying to come to terms with what you’ve just discovered. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, smiling weakly. 

He raises his brows, reaching up to brush tendrils hair away from your face. His hand cups your cheek, and he forces you to look at him, regarding you closely. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Your heart flutters at the gesture and you smile comfortingly, hoping it’s more convincing this time.

“I am,” you reassure him. 

He watches you for a few seconds more before a small smile curls his lips. “Okay,” he relents but doesn’t lean away, only keeps watching you.

Less with a critical eye and a more admiring one. 

He taps your nose ad chuckles, his own scrunching up. “You have the cutest nose, I swear.” 

Your nose scrunches up instinctively at the compliment and you blush. “Really?”

He laughs, pecking it softly and leaning away to look you in the eye with tenderness. “Yes.” His thumb grazes your cheekbone and his smile softens into a more serious expression. “Can I ask you something?”

You smile sweetly up at him, leaning into his warm touch. “Sure.”

He exhales sharply, gaze pinning yours down. “Would you believe me if I told you you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on?”

Your breath hitches and you freeze, chest concaving. “What?” 

He smiles funnily. “Well?”

You purse your lips, snorting as if the notion was utterly ridonculous. “No. Why would I ever believe something like that? Being the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen would require me to actually be beautiful which I’m not so-” 

He immediately stops you, his face fierce with conviction. “Stop. Stop saying that about yourself. Stop doubting how incredible you are. I- God,” he rasps, eyes tortured with pain as they gaze deeply into yours.  He licks his lips frustratingly and you can’t help but feel like he’s upset with you. “I don’t understand how you could think that you’re anything less than breathtaking, sweetheart. I mean do you even realize- every time I look at you it’s like the first time all over again. You-” he struggles to fight against his emotions and express what he feels clearly. “You glow. I don’t know any other way to explain it other than you radiate the purest light. You are light. You’re an angel, sweetheart and I just- I just wished I could give you m-my eyes or something. I wish I could somehow implant my perspective into you s-so that you could see yourself the way I see you. Because if you did, you would realize that everything about you, even your flaws, they’re all perfect. I-”

He stutters in trying to explain to you, and his hand shakes with emotion. 

He inhales deeply, forehead resting against yours tenderly like he’s run out of energy all in one breath. 

“I’m so tired,” he whispers shakily against you. “I’m so tired of fighting this. Of fighting what my very being is telling me. Of what my heart wants more than anything else. I’m so tired of wanting you and not being able to have you.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, a lump already forming in your esophagus. 

“I-” the lump pushes, forcing the words to choke up.

He exhales deeply onto your skin and digs his fingers into your hair. “I just wish-” he breathes in. “I just wish we didn’t have to worry about everyone else looking in on what we have.” 

You recognize what he says. You recognize it because it’s exactly what you're feeling.

“I know,” you breathe. “I know.” 

He sags against you. “I don’t know what to do. I know what’s right but I don’t-” his lips tremble. “I- dammit. I didn’t expect to feel like this about you,” he rasps. 

You look him in the eye, desperate to get something out of him. “Feel like what?”

He chuckles humorlessly, brilliant blue eyes flickering with hurt. His answer is simple but riddled so many complex emotions you’ve yet to figure out. 

“Like you’re the very air I breathe.” 

Your lips inevitably quirk up into a smile, innocent and starstruck. He doesn’t smile back, his face creased with concern and very clearly a deep and dark internal turmoil.

But he doesn’t say anything. You don’t want him to either. Not yet, at least. This was a lot to admit for one night and you didn’t want to push him. 

You get an idea but feel a bit bashful to ask it out loud.

“Mr. Evans?” you practically choke on your words. 

“Yeah, angel?” 

You both smile simultaneously at the other, your heart warming with elation and bliss. 

“Hold me?” You bite your lip nervously.

He sighs out a small laugh, brushing his thumb over your blushing cheek. “Sure thing.”

You chuckle softly, facing away from him as you both naturally settle into a comfortable spooning position. 

His arms are warm and strong as they wrap around you and his chest is broad and firm beneath your back. His warmth envelops you like a safety blanket and you inhale deeply, eyes fluttering shut. His scent wafts into your airways- all musky and cinnamony and you still feel like drowning in it over and over again.

His nose digs into your hair as he inhales your scent as well, arms wrapping tighter around you.

You could feel tears welling up as you thought about how safe you felt right now. And how you’d never really felt it before. Not only that but how right this felt. How you two fit with eachother. Like puzzle pieces. 

His heartbeat was steady and strong against your spine and your own fell in sync with his.

“Thank you,” you breathe, fighting back your tears from shining through in your voice.

“For what?” His mumble vibrates through you and you can’t help but shiver at the deep timbre of his voice.

“For this. All of it. For coming to get me at that party and saving me from James and for letting me stay here.”

And for making me feel so incredible, you added mentally.

He squeezes you gently. “I could never let anyone hurt you if I had the power to stop it.”

You trail your fingers over his arm absentmindedly, softly raking your nails over his blonde hairs. “You’re really warm,” you hum, pressing up against him.

He chuckles and his abs flex against your skin. “So are you.”

“So, exactly how much do you work out?” You abruptly blurt.

He bursts out into full-blown laughter and you flip around to watch him.

This man would be the death of you, you swear. His smile is brilliant, his laughter nothing short of melodious and the small crinkles around his eyes endearing as hell.

He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and looks at you with a small smirk.

You can’t help it when you smirk right back, shrugging sheepishly as a few giggles escape your mouth. “I’m serious. It’s a serious question.”

He shakes his head at your antics. “A lot.”

You poke his muscular bicep, wiggling your brows. “I can tell.”

“Can you now?” He raises a smug brow, flexing dramatically.

You snort. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t get girls running up to you every five minutes going ‘oh my God!’” You make your voice exaggeratedly shrill, biting your lip dramatically. “You’re so muscular. Can I touch?’” You bat your lashes at him and put an unrealistically hopeful expression on your face, wiggling your fingers in his face. 

He guffaws, snatching your fingers and squeezing them gently. “I’m not going to lie, I do get a lot of female and male attention. I don’t like it though.” His fingers intertwine with yours.

You raise your brows, ignoring how your heart skips a beat at the simple act of holding hands. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head, eyes sincere. “No. It honestly makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I know I’m conventionally good-looking, but that’s not all there is to me, you know?” 

Your serious stare at him lasts only a few seconds before you break, bursting out into boisterous laughter. 

He gasps melodramatically. “Are you making fun of me, miss Y/l/n?”

You giggle. “No. I just- ‘conventionally good-looking’. Really?”

He shrugs, blushing just the tiniest bit. “What? Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, but I much prefer the word gorgeous. Or astronomically beautiful, or-”

“That’s two words,” he chimes.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean. You’re obviously very ‘conventionally good-looking’. But I couldn’t agree more that there is so much to unpack with you.” You boop his nose softly, gazing into his eyes cautiously. 

He shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t look away. His eyes are unreadable again. It’s like he has a wall he can put up or down at command and you hate it. 

“Like what?” he whispers. 

You clear your throat. “Like why you work so hard to hide your hurting.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but your eyes are as heavy as ever, scrutinizing him. Not in a harsh way though, merely keen. 

He swallows audibly. “How do you know that?”

The atmosphere is now tense. The resistance he’s giving off palpable.

“I can see it. In your eyes,” you murmur.

And for a moment, solely a split-second, his eyes flare up with that pain again and you feel like the wall is crumbling and you’ll finally be able to fully read him.

But the look is gone as soon as it arrives- a soft simper in its stead now.

“And you know what I see in yours? Exhaustion. C’mon,” he mumbles, squeezing your fingers in warning. “Let’s go to sleep.”

You deadpan, letting him know you’re aware of the warning.

“Do you still want me to hold you?” he whispers as he turns the lamp on your side off.

You sigh to signal not being happy at his very unsubtle deflection of the topic, but nod either way because of course you still wanted him to hold you. 

So he does, cradling your against his chest as you both instinctively curl up into each other. 

Your heartbeats settle into the inky darkness of the room and your bodies sink into the softness of the bed and each other, completely relaxed. The exhaustion of the day finally sink into your bones and your eyes lids grow heavy.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair. 

You lightly stroke his arm with your thumb. “Goodnight Mr. Evans.” 

You slowly begin to be lulled into a deep sleep by the pure comfort you feel, eyelids fluttering shut. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” you hum tiredly.

“Call me Chris,” he whispers. 

“Chris,” you repeat back in a croak, on the very brink of deep sleep. “Okay.”

The rest of what he says you don’t know if you hear correctly, but it’s not long before the darkness completely takes over and you slip into the deepest most comfortable sleep you’ve had in your whole life. 

*

When you wake up, it’s because of the sunlight flittering in through the curtains. You squint against it, groaning and turning over in bed. 

Your head is absolutely pounding and your mouth is drier than a desert. 

It doesn’t all come rushing back to you until your face has been shoved into a pillow that smells distinctly like men’s shampoo for a few minutes. 

Party. Margo leaving. James. Mr. Evans. Punching James. Carrying you. Kiss. Mr. Evans. Sleep. In his bed. Cuddling. Mr. Evans. 

You briskly sit up in bed but quickly thereafter have to hold your head as you get dizzy from the pain. “Shit!” 

You were in Mr. Evans’ bed. You slept in his bed. You slept with him. In his bed. Together. While he held you. You were almost assaulted by James’ punk ass. But he saved you after-

Your mouth goes drier than what is humanly possible and you cringe so hard, you’re surprised your face doesn’t get permanently frozen in that expression. 

That call you made to Mr. Evans... 

You smack your face on the pillow over and over again, hoping that that’ll magically erase the memory from your very neurons and take your absolute mortification along with it. You absolutely cannot believe that you called him “out-of-this-world” hot to his face. Not to mention-

Oh, God.

Alcohol was like magic. It was like you were a completely different person under its influence. You didn’t care and you didn’t care that you didn’t which was worse. You wanted freedom from who you were and you got it.

You finally understood the appeal of alcohol. Why your father was attracted to it. It didn’t just numb you, it morphed you. Into someone without fear.

Either way, you acted like an idiot.

After a while of entertaining a wide variety of self-deprecating thoughts on your existence and who decided it was a good idea, a thought strikes you. 

Where is Mr. Evans now? He wasn’t next to you this morning and-

“Morning, sweetheart.”

You jump, startled and lookup instantaneously. The thought (as well as all other thoughts) leave your mind as soon as your gaze flickers upward to the general direction from which his voice came.

As soon as you do, though, your mouth falls open and your stomach clenches.

Now you know for a fact that Chris Robert Evans will be the death of you someday. 

Today is that day, most likely. 

Because this absolute Adonis of a man has walked into his room, with all his wet after-shower glory glistening in the morning sun and only a towel hanging way too low on his hips to cover his modesty.

Holy shit.

Your breath hitches as you closely watch water droplets gradually roll off his damp hair onto his smooth neck, making a torturous trajectory down his firm chest and gently rolling off his hard abs. They continue past his well-defined v-line and then slowly disappear into his towel. 

Your eyes unintentionally linger on his crotch area, slightly widening when you realize that what you suspected about him was not wrong at all. 

If anything, it was better. 

...bigger, you know what I mean?

You’re frozen still, your whole body hot, your brain overridden with way too much too fast. Too much perfection hitting you in the face all at once, zapping your nerve endings alive and buzzing. 

Holy. Shit.

Your tongue pokes out from inbetween your lips and you lick them subconsciously, unable to fully comprehend what it was you were seeing. 

The morning light made him look impossibly hotter and your mouth feels drier by the second, as your eyes fully take him in from head to toes. His skin is smooth and glows with an impossible golden hue. His hair looked like spun gold as it curled around his wet forehead, his eyes seemed bluer than before.

You feel like you’ve been kicked in the chest, your thoughts racing with filthy images of how this very moment could go for you both. I’ll tell you this much; none of them ending with you still a virgin.

His mouth seems plumper than usual, too. More silky smooth and luscious and tempting as it moved. And holy crap if you didn’t want to jump his gorgeous bones this very instant.

You notice he’s saying something and slowly zone into what he’s saying.

“...do you want some?” 

You blink idiotically at him, “huh?”

He laughs, smirking knowingly. “I said; I’m making pancakes do you want some?”

You tilt your head as he spins around in search of clothing, trying to get a better view of his round ass. “Uh-huh.”

“You can also shower. There are towels in the closet, help yourself. I also may have some clothes that’ll fit you,” he continues, spinning around to face you again.

You nod absentmindedly, fascinated by the way his long fingers clasped around the edge of the towel, holding it up.

But what if he was to suddenly let it go? What would hide underneath it? God, you just wanted to know. So, so bad-

“And sweetheart?” His voice snaps you back to his eyes as he walks toward the door. 

“Yeah?” you murmur. 

He grins. “You have a little drool right...there.” He swipes his thumb over the corner of his lip and spins on his heels, walking out. 

His laughter bounces off the hallways walls as you frantically wipe at your mouth, blushing madly- only to find you weren’t actually drooling. 

You sigh, falling onto your back and rubbing at your face. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out incredulously, your heart racing in your ribcage.  

Holy fuck, indeed. 

Read Chapter Twelve Here!!

*

I went a little overboard with this CH. so I had to cut it off here, u guys. Sorry.

On the bright side though, Ch. 12 will be juicy as hell!

Also, I wanted to ask you help for ideas on what we could do on my blog for the finale of “Mr. E I” because it just means so much to me that so many of you enjoy it and maybe find soltice in it so if you didn’t read my A/N at the beginning please do so!

A Special Thanks to:

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

@sp2900

@multifandom-foreverx

@missbosstown

@supernaturalyloki

@jungkooksbowlingskills

@spettrocoli

@woodworthti666

@tshollandlove 

@weirdvishy

@buckysrcse

@doritoevansxwinterschildren 

@superwholockwannabe  

@emmiejames

@rissamonique97

@zofty15

@sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack​

@sydneynix8305 

@badkatthings  

@pinnedandneedled

@taliarosej00

@lowkey-love-loki 

@tomoyaevaans

@dontstopfreddienow

@littlecherrydoll

@notbexmader

@celestiial-angel

@primavera-nymph

@panic-naran

@chljmntgy

@phanmatch

@Neverforget-whereyoubelong

@moonlightimagination 

@cap-just-said-language

@covergirl122 

@buckysthighsstuff

@whereeverythingisbetter

@nizxle 

@sarcasticvodka

@humandasaster

@tomshelbystits

@peach-acid

@roonyxx 

@faithmichaluk

@qrndevans

@the-long-good-bi

And of course my forevers!

@jessikared97

@ladyofletters67

@lilypalmer1987

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[louiserandom]

Raffle prize! :3

echoes of the stars

for: the amazing, sweet and supportive @edthemastershark​💙

Rating: T

Pairing: MadaTobi

A/N: very belated prize >.> didn’t realize how busy I’d be, but I hope you still enjoy it, Ed :3 

P.S. about other prizes: @kitsunesongs​, I’m struggling to make your fic short and coherent but might just end up with a fluff-angsty wall of plot... we’ll see how it goes😃 and @benzen-c6h6​, THERE SHALL BE MERMAIDS😍

Meow :3 Read on AO3 or continue under the cut!

———   

“You’re far away,” Madara’s amused voice wrests Tobirama’s mind away from his musings.

Tobirama looks over to his partner, allowing himself a tentative smile.

“Just thinking,” he says.

“Not about me, it seems,” Madara says, fake pout and all, “unacceptable.”

Tobirama simply rolls his eyes. “Allow me to correct this gravest of missteps. Truly, a travesty.” 

Madara opens his mouth, probably to drop another quip, and Tobirama promptly shuts it with a kiss, a habit that’s engrained in him by now, despite the lingering novelty of their relationship. Hot lips brush against his, and an equally fiery chakra rushes to meet Tobirama’s ice-cold signature, both sensing the other’s mounting pleasure, the energy tantalizing as their chakras coalesce. Tobirama leans back against the rock behind him and tugs Madara into his lap, coaxing his lips open and earning a delectable moan that makes him feel all kinds of fuzzy and tingly.

Words he’d never thought he’d use to describe his once well-controlled feelings, but it seems Anija’s sappy wording is rubbing off on him now that he finds himself falling for his once enemy, later friend, later best friend and now—

They draw away for breath, then sink into another kiss, as slow and languid as the first, which does nothing to quell the desire Tobirama feels simmering in the base of his stomach. It takes all his self-restraint not to whine as Madara pulls away once more.

“I love,” Madara’s voice hitches, “l-love when you do that. But better stop unless you want our first time to be in public.”

“We’re hardly in public,” Tobirama says, running his hands along Madara’s sides, “but—I really wouldn’t like to do this on top of Anija’s head statue.”

“Ah, right,” Madara remembers what spot they’ve chosen for their night picnic. “Well, first, someone could see through the genjutsu. And yes, your brother can go to hell with this stupid fucking head. I forgot that it’s already finished. There’s no escaping it, is there?” he laments, probably wondering exactly how much Hashirama’s going to pout if he smacks the engraving off with his Susanoo.

“Don’t you have perfect memory?”

“Haven’t looked at it with the Sharingan yet,” Madara says, long-suffering, “so I can make my brain forget it.

Tobirama lets out a laugh. “Lucky you. I had to deal with eidetic memory most of my childhood and had no way of turning it off. Every one of Anija’s embarrassing antics, heaps upon heaps of his atrocious handwriting and every single one of his whiny rants embedded in my memory. It was a nightmare.”

“Ouch,” Madara sympathizes, “my condolences for your childhood psyche.” He tilts his head to the side. “What changed?”

“Memory becomes more abstract over time,” Tobirama explains. “It hasn’t been studied widely, but some children are able to remember scenes in great detail, regardless of clan or dōjutsu. It can be… unsettling.”

“Especially if it’s memories from a battlefield?” Madara asks, bit hesitant.

“Oh, definitely.” Tobirama looks to the side, hands still playing with the hem of Madara’s haori.

Madara raises his hand, in turn, to caress Tobirama’s cheek, turning him back to face him.

“Is that what you were thinking about?”

Tobirama shakes his head. “Never mind. Seriously. It’s unimportant.”

“It is to me,” Madara insists. “And it’s not that—I mean, you don’t have to share whatever it is with me, but just…” He sighs, dark eyes glinting with moonlight as they stare imploringly at Tobirama. “Talk to someone about it? Please?”

Tobirama chuckles, burying his head into Madara’s chest to hide the blush he can feel warming his cheeks, so unused he is to genuine care that doesn’t come either from Anija or Tōka. And there’s that fluttering feeling again, making his heart race and rendering his thoughts incoherent. It’s unfair, what this man does to him. Illegal, the power he holds over his heart after just a few months of a tentative relationship.

“It’s not that,” Tobirama says, clasping his lover’s hands in his, “I trust you enough to share my worries with you, Madara. But I mean it when I say it really is… It’s fine.”

Madara huffs. “That is not the voice of someone who is fine.”

“That is the voice of someone who is just slightly bothered. By mundane things. Like a sprain or a lost kunai.”

“Did you sprain yourself or lose a kunai?”

“No.”

“Then you’re bullshitting me,” Madara announces, pulling his hands away and crossing his arms. “And I demand to know what—or who—upset you.”

Tobirama eyes him, suspicious. “If it is… someone, would you scare them half to death like the Hyūga that dared proposition me that time?” he asks, voice leaking derision.

“So it is someone! I knew it!” Madara says and, completely ignoring the question, demands, “Now, who do I have to kill?”

“No one,” Tobirama says, chuckling, “murder is off-limits, Madara. No death threats. No inciting interclan hostility because you think I can’t take care of an asshole on my own.”

“I never thought that,” Madara argues, shifting so he’s snuggled up with almost no space between them, laying head onto Tobirama’s shoulder. “I just wanted to take care of him myself. Because, uh, I hate assholes with a burning passion.”

“Uh huh.”

“I was born to fight them.”

“Right.”

“Destined by fate.”

“Oh really?” Tobirama feigns contemplation. “Well, in that case, I hope you’re not inflicting too much self-harm.”

It takes all of a second for Madara to get it, after which he pulls away and proceeds to tackle Tobirama onto the blanket they’ve strewn over the ground and tickles him, wordless but determined, taking no pity as Tobirama is overwhelmed by fits of tearful laughter.

“Fuck—Madara,” Tobirama breathes through huffs of laughter, “please—haha—stop godsdammit!”

“I’m an asshole,” Madara says wryly, “why would I listen to you?”

He does, though, relenting after a few more seconds of torment, leaving Tobirama breathless beneath him and not even bothering to dodge Tobirama’s punch to his shoulder. And the next one.

And the next.

“Done?” Madara asks, smirking.

“Fuck you.” Tobirama punches his arm again for good measure. “Tickling is off-limits.”

“Excuse me? You would be abusing it just as much as I do if I were ticklish.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest; tickling is his and Anija’s favorite type of mutual torture after all.

“Well,” Madara says, “was the exquisite torture enough to squeeze the truth out of you?”

Tobirama sighs, staring fondly at the lingering pout, the adorable frown and slightly ruffled hair that suits his lover so well.

(His and no one else’s, if Tobirama has a say in it. This trust, this closeness is something he decides he’ll never willingly let go.)

“Will you kiss me again?” he asks after a few moments of silence.

Madara eyes him, suspicious. “Are you going to tell me then?”

“Promise.”

And then Madara’s lips meet his, and the worries dissipate, as per usual, giving way to pure sensation. Madara’s tongue twining with his, his hands tangling in Tobirama’s hair, just as Tobirama wraps his arms around him and drags him closer. Madara ends up straddling him, which does little to help curtail his desire. Tobirama is glad to find himself lost in it, relishing their points of connection, the feeling growing overwhelming as their chakras mesh again, making them both moan and cling fast to each other, wanting, desperate.

“Fuck,” Madara groans as they part, “oh, fuck.”

“Good idea,” Tobirama breathes, vision hazy. “Stay the night?”

“Wh-what? Like, like, uh,” Madara stutters. Tobirama suspects he’d be flailing if his hands weren’t supporting his weight. “As in, stay the night as usual or?”

“I mean spend the night,” Tobirama says, “with me. As in have sex with me, Madara.”

It’s always best to be blunt with Madara, in any case.

And it’s been harder, with each passing day, to sleep next to each other as they’ve grown used to doing. Nightmares were kept at bay and breakfast became a less lonely affair, what with their brothers moving in with their wives and spending much less time with them as of late. And, of course, there was the added burden of keeping it in their pants when one or both of them would wake up with an erection. Madara insists on waiting, though, because apparently there’s something special about Tobirama’s virginity.

It’s getting more and more annoying.

Madara has stopped spluttering, finally, and sits up, shifting uncomfortably (well, too comfortably) on top of him.

“Well, we’ll—we’ll see about that once you tell me what the fuck is bothering you, Tobirama,” Madara announces, a light flush on his cheeks, waving his arm in a clumsy show of determination and knocking down the bottle of sake they’d placed on a nearby rock. “Fuck. Shit. Whatever, it was almost empty anyway."

“You will see that I’m tired of waiting,” Tobirama says, procuring a brand-new bottle of Anija’s signature moonshine from his storage scroll and setting it aside for later. “And Madara, I…” he trails off, staring helplessly into Madara’s eyes. “I was just thinking about how fragile everything is. It pisses me off.”

Madara frowns but otherwise stays silent, knowing to give Tobirama time to gather his thoughts.

“What we’ve built,” Tobirama continues, “the peace treaties, the village, the peace between our clans, finally and…” He claps Madara’s hands in his. It’s a wonder how soothing the gesture is. “This. Us. But not just us, you know—everything. I feel like it’s too perfect, too good, something that I always dreamed about because Anija dreamed about it, but while he always believed in it, I never quite could.”

Once he was old enough to grasp the more complicated concepts of settlement-building, Tobirama would stay late nearly every night, ignoring battles the ensuing day, ignoring his debilitating fatigue. He worked on infrastructure and administrative plans, education and tax systems, ideological documents and drafts of treaties for a potential shinobi, all the while listening to a despondent voice in his head telling him it’s futile.

A perfectly imperfect dream.

Tobirama’s eyes latch onto familiar constellations once again, so as not to see Madara’s deepening frown. He’s such an idiot and he should stop talking but something compels him to go on.

“And now, we’re here, and thank the gods Izuna’s wound is fully healed and my recklessness didn’t lead to another war. And new clans are joining the village, and we’ve restructured the recruiting system, but I can’t help feeling I’m going to do something wrong and fuck everything up. Or that I’m going to overlook something, and the future generations will have to deal with the consequences, and all that we’ve worked so hard for is going to crumble,” Tobirama says in the rush of one breath, cutting himself off before he reveals more of his stupid concerns. He knows what his father would say. To ignore the voices of doubt, stand up and act, to stop being a coward. “I’m sorry. I sound stupid.”

“You don’t.” Strong arms pull Tobirama into a tight embrace, and he ends up burying his head in the crook of Madara’s neck, breathing in the warm, home-like scent of musk and cedar, the slight tinge ash that always clings to Madara’s skin and the faint honey-like fragrance of his hair. “That is perfectly understandable, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed for being afraid.”

Tobirama takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes and basking in the closeness.

“I don’t think I can. I’ve never been scared of the future before, when it looked like war and death. Now it’s… happiness and I’m terrified of losing it, Madara.”

“So am I,” Madara whispers, grazing his lips against his ear, “so is your brother. So is everyone who put their all into building this village. Of course there can—and will—be mistakes. Of course we’ll fuck up at some points but,” he intersperses his next words with feather-light kisses, “I swear, Tobirama. It’s going to be all right.”

A proper kiss this time, soft and lasting just enough for Tobirama to stop shivering from the suddenly overwhelming dread.

“A stumble won’t mean defeat.” Madara tightens his embrace momentarily, flaring his chakra just so the warmth soothes Tobirama’s nerves further. “None of us knows what the future holds. None of us is going to be perfect. But you—Tobirama, you’ve done so much, started actually thinking of how to make this a reality before Hashirama and I learned to sign our fucking names on treaties. You’re the one that notices most of our mistakes and corrects them more efficiently than we could ever hope.” He shushes Tobirama with his finger when he’s about to protest. “And we’re all thankful for that. We are all there for you, helping you along the way and doing this together,” Madara promises, placing soft kisses onto Tobirama’s hands. “Everyone is trying their best, and that’s all any of us can do, isn’t it?”

It’s a challenge to keep tears from welling up, so Tobirama takes a few deep breaths to brace himself before he attempts to answer. His voice is strangled, close to breaking, but he ignores the weakness and says, “I know. Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Please do,” Madara says, smile evident in his tone. “And remember that I’m always here to listen.”

“Thank you.”

They spend the next few minutes quietly embracing and breathing together, chakra playfully mingling between them as the wind dances around them, whistling its restless melody.

“I’ve noticed you, too, tend to look at the stars to calm yourself,” Madara asks softly.

“Mm. Yes.” Tobirama lifts his head, giving Madara a quick kiss, and moving so he’s nestled against Madara, back-to-chest, facing the starlit canvas of the night sky.

“I used to find familiar constellations as a child, then outline figures in the ones I didn’t and think up names for them,” Madara admits. “Those two are Big Bear and Little Bear.” He traces the shapes with his fingers. “Because of the tails, see?”

Tobirama frowns. “They look like bowls with ladles to me.”

“Shut the fuck up with your bowls and ladles,” Madara grumbles. “You and Izuna have no imagination. Those are bears.”

“Whatever you say, Madara.” Tobirama chuckles. “Then here’s mine: that one looks like the symbol for pi.”

“A symbol for pie? Why the fuck would a pie even need a symbol? Those are Twins!”

They bicker over what each constellation depicts until they’ve run out of visible stars in their portion of the sky—and drained half of the moonshine.

“Well,” Madara says by the end of it, “we’ve at least settled who’s the more creative one out of the two of us.”

“You mean to say, who has the more developed imagination and who’s still a five-year-old,” Tobirama teases, not bothering to avoid Madara’s flick to his forehead.

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

“You still like me.”

“And you like me.”

“I guess we’re stuck with each other then,” Madara laments. “Whatever shall we do?”

“Talk science?” Tobirama suggests, reaching for the moonshine and moving to sit cross-legged in front of Madara, who’s looking at him, one skeptical eyebrow raised. “There’s one mind-blowing fact we’ve just discovered about the stars, thanks to telescopes. Turns out they’re really, really, really far away and the light we see from them is actually from the past, because it takes so long to reach us. The worlds we see are millions, maybe billions of years old, and by now are probably dead and gone—but we’ll never actually live to see how they end.”

Madara blinks. “That’s depressing.”

“And… fascinating?” Tobirama tries.

“More depressing. But still cool, I admit.” Madara drains his drink. “Maybe there’s a world out there just like ours. War-torn and tired of war, building peace through trial and error.” His lopsided smile makes Tobirama’s heart skip a beat. “Makes you feel a bit less alone in the universe, doesn’t it?”

Tobirama returns the smile. “I don’t feel alone with you.”

It’s both sweet and hilarious to see the expression of utter shock on Madara’s face, and the blush that follows, and the spluttering before he settles on words.

“Oh, I, uh, yeah, me too! You’re, um, you’re okay.”

“And you’re remarkable, Madara.”

Tobirama is grinning like an idiot, probably, and Madara goes on muttering something about cocky self-satisfied bastards, before yanking Tobirama by the collar into yet another of their many kisses this night—and, hopefully, of many more to come.

[hotforharrison]

Unholy Divinity ch 2

Chapter 1 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 3

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader/Tom Holland

Summary: Choosing to spend your eternity in heaven or hell should be easy, right? Yeah, not so much.

Word Count: 1,941

Warnings: Language & Smut

A/N: I should have been following the RNG, but instead I’m writing more of this because I can’t stay away from it. Please send help.

Harrison eventually left when he had business to attend to in heaven, and you found yourself alone in the silence of purgatory for the second time.

You took the opportunity to explore extensively. The room that resembled a waiting area was the largest, and it had a locked door on either end of it.

There was nothing of note within it, other than everything being bolted down, which consisted of some furniture and assorted pieces of decor. It was probably a practical thing. You couldn’t imagine most people being pleased by the prospect of eternal torment. Only idiots like you who were heavily attracted to a certain king of hell.

The long hallway connected to the waiting area room had 5 identical bedrooms to the one you woke up in, each containing a bed and empty nightstand. You’d hoped to find at least a bible in one of the drawers to read. Not your usual choice of literature, but beggars can’t be choosers. It would have at least made sense, considering where you were. You came up empty handed, though.

One end of the long hallway led to the waiting area room, and the other end was also locked.

Purgatory had absolutely nothing to do in it, probably because visits were meant to be short. Go to the waiting area, have Tom or Harrison or whoever else collect you, go on your merry way to your eternity. Most people didn’t get or want to have two options.

Honestly, you should have chosen the obvious option and already be in heaven, but you couldn’t get Tom out of your head.

You returned to what you considered “your” bedroom, the one where you woke up, and kicked off your shoes before lying on the bed, arms folded underneath your head.

Nothing you’d ever do when you were bored was an option -- no phone, no books, no TV, no music, absolutely nothing, just the overwhelming silence. Your brain corrected itself quickly. You could always touch yourself, and that sounded tempting after spending time and sharing kisses with both Tom and Harrison.

It also might make you drowsy and let you pass time asleep, until Tom or Harrison visited again, if you could even sleep in purgatory. You hadn’t been hungry or had to go to the bathroom since you found yourself there. Maybe sleep was the same way.

You cast aside your other thoughts when you shucked your pants and panties, pushing them to the foot of the bed, and got under the duvet so you didn’t feel completely exposed.

You closed your eyes and tried to pick which boy to fantasize about. Your indecision stretched on for long minutes until you realized you didn’t have to choose. Maybe you’d just think about them both. It wasn’t something you’d really considered in the past, but it was much easier than making a decision when each of them appealed to you in very different ways.

Your hand moved between your legs, and you spread some of your ample wetness over your clit, rubbing small circles around the sensitive nub. You were relieved that still felt amazing, even in purgatory.

You imagined both of them kissing your body, Harrison focusing on your sensitive neck and chest, whispering sweet things in your ear occasionally, while Tom trailed down your stomach until he ended up with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out expertly.

“Oh god,” you moaned, chanting Tom’s and Harrison’s names as you neared your high.

When you toppled over the edge into your climax, you dug the fingers of your free hand into the sheets, writhing involuntarily, eyes shut tight.

Once you’d come down, you sighed contentedly and opened your eyes to see Tom leaning against the doorframe.

“Fantasizing about a little ménage à trois, darling? I’d be down for that, but Harrison is probably still too much of a goody to ever consider it,” Tom commented.

You felt your face burn with embarrassment and hid your head underneath the duvet.

The bed dipped near the foot where you assumed he sat down. “No need to be ashamed. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more gorgeous when you cum. I could spend the rest of my eternity just getting you off over and over again, and I’d never grow tired of it.”

You peeked out to look up at him, meeting his intense gaze, before sitting up against the wall, your bare lower half still covered. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’m curious now, though. What did you get up to with Harrison while I was taking care of things in hell?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased.

“I would,” he responded, licking his lips. “Whatever he did, I’ll show you that I can do it much, much better. Did he fuck you, or rather make love to you for the first time sweetly underneath the covers with the lights off so as not to offend his delicate sensibilities?”

You laughed. “He’s not that bad.”

“So, he did deflower you? Pity, I would have made it so much better for you,” Tom told you, sounding rather disappointed.

You bit your lip, carefully deciding your next words. “Now, I didn’t say that.”

He immediately perked up. “How far did you go with him?”

“You’re being awfully nosy,” you commented with no heat.

He chuckled. “How am I supposed to compete when I don’t know what I’m competing with?”

“I’m the prize?” you asked.

He nodded. “And there’s never been a better prize.”

You paused, considering. “Why do you covet me so much?”

“You’re gorgeous and pristine, a perfect candidate for heaven, down to losing your life saving an innocent. I want to sully you in every possible way you’ll let me for the rest of eternity,” he said.

The thought of that went straight between your thighs, and you couldn’t help but squirm a bit.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” he ventured. “You want me to do unspeakable things to you, things that wouldn’t even cross Harrison’s mind?”

You swallowed heavily, trying not to show him how much that affected you.

Tom’s fingers played with your calf through the duvet as he talked. “Yes, that’s it. Harrison wouldn’t give you what you need. You’d be hard pressed to find someone more vanilla, even in heaven. You’d get bored of him in a matter of days.”

“Excuse me?” Harrison said from the doorway, obviously irritated.

“You heard me.” Tom raised his eyebrows when he glanced over at Harrison.

Harrison glared back at him. “Just because I chose to stay in heaven doesn’t mean I’m ‘vanilla’ and ‘boring,’ Tom. There’s no rules in heaven against being adventurous in bed.”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, maybe you’d turn the lights on when you’re feeling like spicing things up.”

Harrison’s eyes moved to your pants and panties near where Tom was seated, and he looked at you. “Did he do anything to you that you didn’t want?”

“No, uh, that, I mean-” you started.

“That was all her. Do you want to know how I found her earlier?” Tom asked.

“He really doesn’t,” you insisted, heart thumping in your chest.

“Tom,” Harrison warned.

Tom ignored Harrison completely. “She was a beautiful mess, moaning and writhing in pleasure, but what was interesting was what she was crying out.”

“Please don’t,” you begged, face reddening again.

Tom chuckled and continued regardless. “She wasn’t just moaning Tom, or just moaning Harrison. No, she was moaning both of our names. Our innocent flower apparently isn’t so innocent in her mind.”

Harrison’s mouth dropped open slightly, and his gaze met yours, expression unreadable.

Tears of humiliation and shame pricked your eyes, until they started falling down your cheeks.

“You made her cry, you fucking asshole,” Harrison spat as he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, pulling you into his warm arms. His wings instinctively wrapped around you while he carefully wiped away your tears.

“I didn’t know angels could swear,” you said softly.

“There’s a lot of misconceptions,” Harrison told you quietly, then more loudly, “maybe you should go where you’re actually wanted, Tom.”

“Fuck off, Harrison,” Tom said, standing up and stomping away from the bedroom.

Harrison hugged you tight, kissing your forehead. “It’s alright now, love. Don’t pay him any mind. He most definitely didn’t become king of hell for his kindness and consideration.”

You swallowed, wetting your lips. “You’re not upset?”

He looked very confused. “Why would I be?”

“Because I…” you trailed off, unable to finish your sentence.

“Tom interrupted something private, something that was none of his damn business, and tried to use it to get under my skin.” Harrison sighed. “I would never be upset with you because you have fantasies. I have fantasies. That part of you doesn’t just go away when you become an angel.”

“Thank you.” You stroked his soft feathers gently, tracing them with your fingertips.

“Now that he’s gone, he didn’t do anything unwanted to you, did he?” he asked.

“No. He was a...well, not a gentleman, but not, well, you probably know what I mean?” you responded, hopeful that he did.

“Good,” he said with a sigh of relief. “Believe me when I say I know exactly what you mean. I didn’t think he actually would, but then again, he didn’t become the king of hell by being what you’d typically think of as a good person.”

You lay your head against Harrison. “Does he do this sort of thing a lot?”

He ran his fingers soothingly through your hair. “Not a lot, no. He’s been weirdly possessive over you. Usually, he would have lost interest by now if he hadn’t convinced you to join him already. Although he hates when he doesn’t get his way and will do almost anything to get under my skin.”

“Do you collect all the new angels from purgatory?” you asked.

“Not even close. There are quite a few of us who do that job. I don’t encounter Tom very often. This was the first time in years,” he answered.

“So I’m just lucky?” you guessed.

He shrugged. “Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”

“I have a question,” you told him. “If I do go to heaven with you, will I still get to see you again, or do you just drop me off, and it’s over?”

“Usually, I’d drop you off, and it’d be over, but I planned on seeing you again. I don’t think I could stay away,” he admitted. “Do you want to go with me now?”

“As much as Tom just pissed me off, I’m not ready to decide yet. There’s something...absolutely magnetic about him. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to get him out of my head,” you confessed.

“I get it. He’s always been like that. I don’t want to rush you into your decision. Unlike Tom, I actually care about what you want, and I want you to be happy, whether that be with me in heaven, or Tom in hell.”

You pressed what was supposed to be a chaste kiss of gratitude to his lips, letting it linger as long as he’d let you. He didn’t pull back, and you tentatively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. His tongue met yours, and you spent what could have easily been hours unhurriedly and gently making out, your fingers moving between his face, and his neck, and his soft wings.

It was everything that Tom wasn’t, and also happened to be exactly what you needed.

You already knew that nothing about this decision was going to be easy.

tag list: @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @relise-thefury @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh @eeyore101247

[estrellapolaris]

Life Lately : To 2018, hello from 2020

2018: “There are many ways to live a purposeful, happy and healthy life but it all starts with a conscious choice to do so”.

2020:

I just graduated from college last August - like, what the hell right? 3 years ago, I wrote a blogpost about how the “finish line” and the road to get there seemed bleak to me then. Even if it was my decision to be an irregular, I still felt disappointed because I thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. Yet here I am 3 years later, a degree holder who managed to get no grade below 3.0 with a 2 year-consecutive presidency under her belt - just a few of the many things I never imagined to achieve when I was writing that depressing blogpost 3 years ago.

It was indeed naive of me to think that a “finish line” exists. I thought graduating from college was like the end of a Suits episode when Mike and Harvey would close a deal. Although my batch didn’t get an actual ceremony because of the pandemic, I didn’t feel like strutting out of Pearson Hardman (God knows how many times they changed the firm’s name) with The Heavy’s “How You Like Me Now” playing in the background. Graduation felt like any other normal day but with the big question looming over my head - “What’s next?”. There was never a “finish line” to begin with because I’m running an oval, and there’s no race. I’ve climbed high enough the ladder to get past the smog but not the clouds.

The 19 years I spent in school felt like I was writing a script for a TV show with collaborators and with the adults in my life as directors. Since I’ve already graduated, I’m now the “adult” of my life. I’m figuring out what my story will be from here on out and how I’m going to direct it. I’m re-learning and unlearning some of my old beliefs. I’m scared as shit and I’m happy I can now comfortably say “shit” with fellow adults *wink*. I’m also happy knowing that I can make choices for myself. For that, I can start by picking this season of my life’s theme song... and no, it’s not Greenback Boogie.

2018: “Being off the grid may put me out of the grid, but it puts me on the map”.

2020:

Choosing to go through life at my own pace made time and experience available for me - two of the most significant resources necessary for character building which couldn’t always be found within the four walls of a classroom. This conscious decision gave me a direction and helped me build my name.

Right off the bat after graduation, I allowed myself to settle into a slow and quiet lifestyle after 5 years of living away from home. The slightly abrupt change wasn’t an easy adjustment as I found myself overwhelmed with the amount of free time I had so I was constantly raking my brain to think and do something. I read books, reconnected with old friends and did the things I’ve been wanting to do but couldn’t because of my busy schedule. Eventually, I resorted to doing what I was most familiar with - overly planning my career.

The question, “What’s next?”, continued to loom over me after graduation. I know the career destination I want and it’s something that hasn’t changed ever since the day I entered college. However, the route to get there has multiplied and altered in many ways through the years. I know that whatever route I take, it can still take me to the same destination. I guess I’m worried that once I do tread on a route, I might settle on a pitstop as my destination. I don’t want to lose my Little Prince sense of wonder but I know I need to print copies and make coffee to keep the light in the house running.

Lately, I’ve been keeping my goals realistic and short-term. I’m learning to enjoy the time I have left before licensure and job applications by taking care of myself and trying out new hobbies. I don’t know where I’ll end up a year from now and that’s okay. The best thing that happened to me, being off the grid, didn’t start out as the best thing and above all, it was unplanned. In the end, I turned out okay and still managed to stay on a path rather than be kept by it. For now, I’ll enjoy being 22.

2018: I’ve been the cause of disintegrated friendships and I’ve been the victim in some. I’m trying to work on seeing who’s toxic and who’s not. I’ll get there soon. But for now, I’m trying.

2020:

I’m not perfect at dealing with friendships and relationships, neither is everyone else - so we need to cut ourselves some slack for our shortcomings. No one is exempted from making mistakes within a friendship and relationship. No bond is perfect.

I’d like to say we’re all living pie charts of varying strengths, weaknesses, interests and intellect. In fact, there’s so much more that makes up a human being which couldn’t even be fathomed in a singular pie chart and the numbers will always be changing. The best friendship or relationship are those that are willing to weather the changing of these numbers for the goal of reaching one’s “model” pie chart. Any bond shared with someone is a promise and a choice.

In order for a business to thrive, one must identify its target market in order to enable effective product building and communication. In synchrony, we can also identify the population distribution of our friendships in order to enable effective building and communication. In my case, I’ve identified my friendships in units of: close friends, friends, situation-ships and acquaintances. Depending on circumstances and the nature of the bond, a person may shift from one level to another. All levels are valued well and compartmentalizing things this way enables me to identify the most effective medium for a particular bond, as well as better allocate myself to people who deserve it the most. It’s important to remember that we should be kind to everyone but it’s also foolish to offer so much of our energy for people where it doesn’t count, when we can be using that same energy for people truly deserving of it. If one thing works for someone, it doesn’t mean it works for everyone. As individuals, we can only do so much.

[ciarawritesmarvel]

unwanted letters - steve rogers x reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k (I said it’d be longer!)

Warnings: Now, this is kind of angsty but more in a hurt/comfort way if that makes sense, it’s all set around Infinity War, NO ENDGAME REFERENCES

A/N: Day Three of Hello Spring by @ibwhellospring! This one is a little different, containing some letters, some sort of angst, some IW realness and some bittersweetness. I hope you enjoy, I think I might quite like this one for once! Please do let me know what you think, my loves :)

Prompt: Goodbye Letters

masterlist is in my bio, tags will be in a reblog. please drop me an ask to be tagged in bucky, steve or all hello spring pieces! enjoy! <3

---

You sat on your bed. You were cold, you noticed vaguely, but it was hardly something to worry about. Your feet were planted firmly on the floor and every now and then a thought would come and go and your hands would fist themselves in the blankets on the bed before relaxing again like it had never happened. Your eyes were trained on the wall, your focus hazy, your senses dimmed.

This was it. This was it.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t jump at the intrusion. You slowly brought your focus back as best you could and turned your head to face Steve. He looked...beaten down. But not beaten. Not yet. As long as he wasn’t beaten, you weren’t either, and you cradled that thought to your chest as if it were something precious.

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi.”

A silence, and though you and Steve had many of those in your time together this one was uncomfortable. Any time with one’s thoughts now was a bad time. You needed to save him from his thoughts, and you from yours.

“Is everyone ready?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re ready,” he admitted, wandering up to the bed and sitting down on it next to you, “But they’re still here. That’s all I could ask, and even that’s too much.”

“Don’t put this on yourself. This one’s on all of us.”

He nodded. It was clear he knew you were right but whether that would help his brain out was a different question entirely. He brought his gaze up from the floor to you and you held it, not backing down.

“I had a thought,” he said suddenly and you worried about that. Thoughts were dangerous now, that you’d already established. Still, you kept your face calm for him. Always for him.

“Hm?”

“I just-“ he paused and took a moment and you reached over and grasped his hand in yours, an unspoken source of comfort. He instantly began tracing familiar patterns into the back of your hand, the lines he’d walked so many times, the lines carved into your skin. It was a comfort to you both and enough for him to continue, albeit with a lump in his throat, “I just don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And I don’t wanna talk about it. So I thought maybe, we could write letters? To each other. In case-“

He trailed off and you were glad. The words he was about to say were some that you were ready to hear. But his idea was sweet and thoughtful and a perfect way to express everything that could not be said in words today without tears and broken promises.

You could see the worry in his eyes, the self conscious spark that told him what he’d just said was a stupid idea, that he’d made a terrible suggestion. You squeezed his hand tighter.

“I’d love that, Steve,” you said, soft and loving, “I can’t say it either.”

He let out a shaky breath that you took as one of relief, relief that you were both in the same place right now. That you couldn’t say it. However much you both wanted to say everything, tell each other everything, you couldn’t. And that was okay.

“We have paper,” he said, standing from the bed and reaching into the cupboard, your hands dropping from each other’s and your own dropping back onto the bed with a grounding thud, “We should do it now.”

We don’t have much time.

The unspoken sentence that hung in the air as if it had been said nonetheless. You nodded in agreement, taking paper from him and one of the pens too.

When you were last in Wakanda, it had been a visit to see Bucky and you and Steve had stayed in this very same room. The three of you had talked until the early hours of the morning, walked through the busy streets, sat and ate in the peaceful fields.

One morning, Steve had woken up first, but far earlier than usual. It was the day you were due to say goodbye to Bucky and head back to a life of constant running and so he was keen to take this morning slowly, to savour it. He took in your form slowly too. Hair splayed out across the pillow, mouth hanging slightly open, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He smiled. Fell a little more in love.

He searched the room for something to do and found a cupboard full of random items, some unfamiliar board games, some coffee mugs, some files. But more intriguing to Steve was the wad of paper on the top shelf and the pot of pens and pencils standing beside it. Without much thinking, he had stolen a pencil and a few pieces of paper, settled himself in the corner armchair and began to draw you with a painstaking attention to detail. His eyes flickered between you and his page and the corners of his lips drifted upwards in a subconscious smile.

You’d woken around two hours later, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sunlight that streamed through the translucent curtains. Finding Steve sketching you had been a delightful surprise and you agreed to say in the same position until he’d finished. It had been a small moment, but one that had stuck with the both of you ever since.

It was for this reason that Steve had known exactly where the paper and pens were.

He stood up from the bed and walked almost past you, but as he was in front of you he stopped and leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head that had you closing your eyes, his hand pressed against your cheek. When you opened your eyes, he had gone, clearly deciding to write elsewhere which a part of you couldn’t help but be glad about.

You shuffled over to the desk by the window and placed down the paper, slumping into the chair with a muffled sigh. Beginning to think of possibilities of how to write the words scarred onto your heart, you stopped yourself. This wasn’t a time for thinking.

My Steve,

For the majority of my life, I firmly believed that I would end up alone, that I would never find anyone to spend my life with, to have, hold, love and cherish. It was only as soon as I accepted that it was okay to be on my own that I found you. I’m sorry I didn’t accept that sooner. Maybe we would’ve had more time. You’d tell me not to think like that, I know, but I have to say it. You have to know how much time I wish we’d had.

If you’re reading this and I’m not sat beside you then...pretend I am. I’m always beside you anyway. You’ll cry, I know, but don’t cry for too long. Lean on the others. Let them lean on you. I always think you heal the best when you’re focused on helping other people. You’re so damn selfless. It’s one of the only things I don’t like about you. You’re not careful enough with yourself.

I’m still beside you, so now imagine me punching you on the arm. Hard. A reminder not to beat yourself up if I’m gone. It won’t be your fault. I know you’ll do everything in your incredible power to make sure I get out of this and I’ll be doing the same for you so nothing will be your fault. Nothing. Never think any differently.

Steven Grant Rogers. I love you. I love you more than any other in this or any universe. You mean everything to me. You always have. Ever since you showed up on that helicarrier in your brown leather jacket and your checkered blue shirt and your fresh baby face. When you shook my hand with that tiny smile that told me we were going to get along. You meant everything to me when we stayed up all night talking about our pasts. You meant everything to me when you started bringing me my cuppa every morning without a word. You meant everything to me when I kissed you. When you kissed me back. When we finally, actually got together. When you told me you loved me. When you asked me to marry you. When we actually got married.

You mean everything to me now and forever.

But if I’m not there, then don’t let me mean everything to you forever. You must push on. Fight on. It’s one of the main things I so love about you. One of so many things.

In conclusion: I love you, I love you, I love you.

Be selfish,

Your Y/N

By the time you had finished, some of the ink had been smudged by the tears that had dropped onto the page but the writing was legible enough and without rethinking or rewording what had come from your very core, you folded up the paper and wrote Steve’s name on the front in your best cursive. You blinked back your remaining tears, breathing deeply through your nose to slow the overwhelming emotion down.

It wasn’t long, a mere hour, before you and Steve were stood side by side on the peaceful fields that were now minutes away from becoming a bloody battlefield. You reached into a concealed pocket in your suit and handed Steve your letter to which he retrieved his own and handed it to you. You wanted to say something but it seemed like he did too and still he didn’t have the words. You pushed yourself up using a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, his beard scratching ever so slightly. When you pulled away and saw his eyes closed you felt a wave of peace roll over you unexpectedly.

You could fight now.

And for Steve? You’d sure as hell win.

---

Dearest Y/N,

Sometimes I’m not the best with words, as you know, and I struggle to articulate how I feel. Not right now. The emotion, the feelings that I have repressed for so long, I can feel them again, bubbling ominously up to the surface. You bring it out in me. I’ve never known if it was a good or bad thing.

In the spirit of sharing feelings, here’s another: I’m scared. As I write this my hand is shaking with a vigour I’ve never known. I’m scared of dying, I’m scared of leaving you, I’m scared of never building the life we’ve talked about for so long and will never build anyway. More than any of these though, I am terrified of losing you. I can’t imagine moving on, recovering. But you have to now, if you’re reading this. Which sounds hypocritical. But you just do. I feel like you’ll be cry-laughing right now.

You have always grounded me. When I was completely lost in a new world, you grounded me. I know you still talk about my leather jacket from when we met, tell people how lost I looked in it, how old I looked. I still remember your pencil skirt and jacket, still remember completely underestimating you, another suit with no real experience. But then I became infatuated with you on the battlefield and fell in love with you in the quiet moments in between.

If I’m not there, then that’s okay. You’ll be fine. I’m an old man now, sweetheart, and it had to happen someday. As long as you are safe and warm and living and breathing then I have done my job. I will have done my duty. And I won’t have any regrets.

I came out of the ice a broken man who didn’t know he was broken. I met you and my world changed. Not instantly, but slowly, as your influence seeping into every aspect of my life and every part of me as a person. You have made me stronger, wiser, tougher, better. And because you’ve made me so strong and so wise, I am wise enough now to know that you will be just as strong without me as you are with me. I’ll be holding your hand and tracing my fingers along your veins for as long as you will let me, there or not.

I love you, baby. So much.

Be strong,

Steve

Your tears were unstoppable, trailing down your cheeks and leaving ugly streaks in their wake as you hiccuped and covered your mouth with your hand, wiping your nose and face and trying to stay as quiet as possible, your breathing stuttered and laboured. Steve never spoke like this. He was loving, yes, but never sentimental as such. He struggled to put it into words.

But this? This was beautiful. Hence the tears.

You were sat up in your double bed in Wakanda, alone. It was the middle of the night, maybe 3am, you weren’t sure anymore. The past two months of time had blended into minute after minute, second after second of pain, regret and an overwhelming sadness. They’d lost. What else was left?

With half the population of the universe gone, just like that, so easy and so simple, everyone was left in different states. Jaded. Devastated. Bitter. Angry. Lost.

You thought you were currently in the numb stage. Nothing seemed to matter, sleep evaded you and you could stay awake for hours and hours just staring at the ceiling and thinking about...nothing. Like there was nothing to think about anymore.

Apparently, reading this letter had broken whatever dam of emotion you had created, you thought, as you sniffled and blinked rapidly to unstick your sodden lashes.

You heard footsteps, soft but still there, outside your room coming towards it and your eyes widened in fear, desperately trying to rid yourself of any sign of your tears, of your sorrow. The door opened slowly after a few seconds and he tiptoed in, closing the door as quietly as he could. He stopped when he turned and saw you sat up, paper in hand, face puffy and eyes bloodshot.

“Y/N?” Steve said, and it was a question but one that he already knew the answer of. It was too much. Your sobs started anew, your face contorting in a new kind of pain and Steve was quick to run to your side, climbing into bed and tugging you into his arms as you wept. You’d held him more times than you could count over the past few months as he cried and cried and cried. He thought it was wrong that he was grateful to be able to return the favour.

He whispered soothing words into your ear and stroked your hair back from your face and held you fiercely, without question. It took minutes upon minutes for you to slowly calm down, for your breathing to even out as your head rested on his chest.

“You read the letter?” he said, and it came out hoarse to which you reared back from him to see that he had been crying too. You wiped his eyes with shaking hands.

“I was looking for your sleeping pills,” you said in a whisper, not trusting your voice to be any louder, “It was in your dressing table. I couldn’t...I just wanted to...”

Steve placed both his hands on either side of your face, holding you gently.

“It’s okay,” he said sincerely, eyes flicking between both your eyes, “It’s okay.”

“We got so lucky, Steve,” you say tentatively, hands coming up to cover his own that still held your face, “But I don’t feel lucky. We still lost.”

To anyone else, that may have been taken the wrong way, but Steve knew exactly what you were saying, as usual. Of course, you were beyond glad that the both of you had survived, were together, could go to bed at night and sleep in each others’ arms. But you couldn’t. Because neither of you could even sleep.

“I don’t either,” he admitted solemnly, “But I think...one day we might. Feel lucky.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning forward until your forehead was resting against his chest, “One day.”

He rested his chin on top of your head, arms wrapping around your shoulders, as yours clung around his waist.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about one day. Just now, holding each other’s broken pieces together was enough to worry about. It was a job you both took very seriously. It was a job you were determined to do right.

“I love you,” Steve said suddenly, full of meaning and weight and promises. Those three words were all the two of you really had left now.

“I love you too, Steve.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken Wings, pt.9 (AU)

09:  Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?

Summary: Back in her original body, she must find a way to break the curse.

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word Count: ~ 2000

Broken Wings (Angel AU - G.D.) Masterlist

Lost in space and time. That's how she felt as her mind drifted with clear instructions to focus on Y/N and the first time she had seen Grayson. It felt like someone is probing her brain, picking it apart for information she could hardly collect and present in exchange for her life. It tore through her, pushing her to relive each of her past lives within seconds – not having long enough to truly find a footing and realize what's happening, but long enough to feel the hurt of every single death she'd been put to with Grayson's lips atop hers.

''Focus on a heart-shaped ring I have made for you. It will lead you home.“

Grayson's words reminded her how to find her way, shaking her head furiously to get the overwhelming pain away from her thoughts. She had to find an anchor in something, Grayson being the obvious choice. And just like that, the darkness fades, light taking its place.

Blinding light forces her to close her eyes, holding out her arm to protect her vision. But when she opens her eyes, she's no longer blinded nor is she riddled by thousands of lifetimes – just this one.

Her hands are a little paler and smaller than usual, the heart-shaped ring on her right middle finger drawing her attention first as if it was a magnet – something she looked at every day, something very dear to her heart. 

But that's not her ring. Those are not her hands.

''What the?“ She breathes out, her hands resting on her long Y/H/C hair, much longer than she remembers it to be. And that's when she realized the truth – she's no longer Caroline.

''Y/N?“ His voice draws her attention without any effort, her eyes settling on the angelic man she had loved since the beginning of time. And he's shirtless. Very much shirtless.

''Y-yeah?“ She stutters, unable to peel her eyes from his incredible physique.

Every single inch of his skin is marked with perfection, each line accentuating an ab she’d like to drag the tip of her tongue over. His arms are huge, veins visible and curving around his muscles like snakes that give his arms the power to kill. His shoulder is distinctly pointy and sharp, his collarbone just calling for her to tap her fingertips along the curve. His neck is strong and inviting, awaiting love bites along the prominent vein on the left.

But nothing could compare to the flawlessness of his face. With a jawline that can cut you, a slight stubble lining it and framing his lips, cute nose to boop and brown eyes that turn hazel under the sunlight downing in his desire for her…well, Caroline finally understood the arrogant eyebrow raise and the cocky smirk he bestowed upon her and Y/N was surely a lucky lady if she got a piece of him, even for a moment before her death.

Looking like that, Grayson had every right to be confident. She loved the way he held himself upright and with dignity, light and untainted by unimaginable sorrow.

“You look a little lost there. Are you alright?” The kindness, softness in his voice had served like a tender kiss, caressing her soul.

“Yeah. I’m good. Great even.” She replied all too enthusiastically. She couldn’t believe this plan worked.

“You know I have to leave now. But I promise to return to you, my love.” Grayson stepped closer, his arms open as he wanted to embrace her.

It finally dawned on her – this is the exact moment she needs to convince him to bring her along.

“You have to take me with you.” Caroline blurted out, noticing just how different her voice is in this body, wondering if this is the kind of voice Grayson truly loves, not her raspy one.

“What? Love, I can’t. You know I can’t. This is…upstairs business. I’ve told you that.” Grayson’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as Y/N, his dear Y/N, gripped her hair like a madwoman.

“What do I tell you if you refuse?” Caroline asked, melting with a faint smile upon Grayson’s sweet lips.

“The truth. I’ll know something’s off anyways.” He stated, confusing her further.

“How? You said my soul is how you know it’s me. Wouldn’t that mean my soul being back in the original body wouldn’t change that?” She frowned, biting her lower lips softly.

“Every death marked your soul, changing your light. It started white – the essence so bright I could hardly look straight into your soul. It’s more colorful now. It shows you’ve lived many lives. So, tell me the truth.”

Caroline wondered if this Grayson could tell her essence isn’t as bright anymore. She wondered if that lessened her worth in her Grayson’s eyes. Had her colors changed his love for her over the years as well?

“If you don’t…I’ll die. Thousands upon thousands of times.” She bit her lower lip again, sensing him looking deeper into her eyes than any man had ever delved. He’s searching her eyes for the truth, a plausible reason behind the madness he believes had taken her – but all he sees is her essence, the colors dancing around it – colors he’d never seen before.

“I’m not Y/N. My name is Caroline and I’ve come from the future…You’ll be the cause for the angel’s fall on Earth and the reason for my demise for your lips are the door to death from the moment you go up there without me. It’s an endless cycle and we have to try and break it. Or at least stop it.” Caroline insisted, her panic easily reaching Grayson who believed every word she spoke but couldn’t resonate it inside his head. It was too much, even for him.

“Humans aren’t allowed in heaven, Y/N…Caroline.” He corrected himself, taking in a deep breath to clear his chaotic mind.

“So what then? Just gonna stand there and watch me burn? Because that’s what happened to Y/N. She burned to death when you laid your lips upon hers after the fall. She died each time, sometimes by burning, sometimes drowning, sometimes more subtle ways…but she dies each time. I.DIE.” She emphasized, placing her hand on his chest before she stopped. For a moment she saw an opportunity present itself, for her to taste the lips of doom she avoided since she met this beautiful man in her own time. She had an opportunity to feel what each of her predecessors have without it killing her. The curse still hadn’t taken its place.

Without a second thought, she placed a hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer until her lips touched upon his. Grayson’s breathing quickened as did hers. His head was angled slightly to the side as his lips pressed harder and harder to hers. She was surprised to find his lips parted, craving the touch of her lips upon his as well. Their breaths mingled. Her heart fluttered inside her chest. At first, it was a delicate butterfly of a kiss, like he’s afraid she’s but a dream he conjured in his mind. Like a stronger touch might break her. When she doesn’t move away but gives into his touch, Grayson smiles into the kiss before allowing his arms to encircle her.

He drew her to him so there was no distance left between them, their lips finding each other in a kiss that stopped their minds from working. This kiss was desperate, passionate, one meant to compensate for all the pain she suffered because he loved her. He dedicated his life to being with her from the moment of that first kiss, for he knew that if he lost her he would lose himself. Barely able to separate, Caroline is the first to step back, gasping for air. Grayson groans lowly at the loss of contact, his hands stopping her from moving too far. They’re both out of breath, their lips swollen and spread into two entirely different smiles. 

But when she blinks her eyes open, she finds she's no longer on Earth.

''Shh.“ Grayson warns her to remain quiet, showing her the line before and after them, every angel making their choice. Ethan stood behind them, eyes wide as he tapped Cameron's shoulder to look at his brother's actions.

However, the next time Caroline blinks, she founds herself alone. Looking down, she can see a countless amount of angels in their fall, each screaming in their mutual terror of what's to come – of losing the only home they've ever known.

''You were wrong to come here.“ She hears a voice, but she's all alone. ''Humans can't see me. Don't even bother, Y/N.“ The voice addresses her, only to change its mind. ''Or should I say Caroline?“

''Was I wrong? You cursed me to eternal damnation and ignorance and you question why I'd come here?“ She retorted, quite frankly pissed off. She wanted more time with this Grayson – the innocent, loving, happy Grayson who didn't carry the guilt of her numerous deaths on his shoulders. She wanted more than a kiss – she wanted a lifetime.

''It's not your punishment. It's his. That's why you forget your lives. I've spared you the pain.“

Caroline chuckles, shaking her head as her hand covers her mouth to hide just how much of an angry chuckle this is.

''Spared me? I'VE BEEN LOSING MY MIND THIS WHOLE TIME! I haven't been spared. I've been torn from the one soul I'm meant to be with. My other half. I'm tortured, a slave to a curse without a way to break it.“ She tries to collect herself, hoping not to get something worse in return. She's angry, burning up, but she can't let her emotions take over.

''And you think you're soulmates? What of Amara? Or Kendra? Or even Hailey? They've all chosen Ethan. How would you choose someone else if Grayson is your soulmate?“ She found herself challenged, learning there was more than one version of her that fell for the handsome demon. She wasn't surprised...A part of Caroline wanted Ethan just as bad as they did. But Grayson was her endgame.

''True love is imperfect. It's not always about who you feel connected with. Sometimes timing, people, surroundings get involved and people meant to be together don't get the luxury of loving each other. But if he wasn't the one, what did they die of then? Are you telling me neither of them succumbed to their feelings for Grayson in the end?“ Caroline smirked, feeling as if she's made progress. Crossing her arms she felt nearly victorious.

''If I break the curse, you'll die and never return. Grayson would still live an eternity on Earth, alone. It will drive him mad as time passes...the day he can't remember your face anymore is the day he'll be a lost soul. He'll choose Lucifer and the scale will tip to the bad side. It will bring about an Apocalypse. Sure you want that ending to your love story?“

Caroline closed her eyes feeling as if her head might explode. This information...the way everything would go...it was too much. She loved Grayson more than anything and she had nothing to lose, but was their happiness, a single lifetime worth millions of lives?

''What if you let him be with Y/N? When he falls, the curse doesn't exist. Make his fate tied to her soul and the last beat of her heart would be his as well.“ Caroline tried, getting a dry chuckle as her response.

''I'M TRYING?!“ She screamed in frustration, spinning in circles as she looked for some way out.

''You've banned all the angels after Grayson even though they never had a chance to make a choice. What if you let them come home? Let them all choose again and grant them access to heaven. When I'm dead, Grayson could return to grace.“ Caroline felt herself on edge, tears filling her eyes as she ran out of options for a way to make things better.

''I have a better idea.“ She heard the voice say just as a white light blasted straight at her.

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