#its not buried by blankets and its not between my bed and the wall

[lover-of-skellies]

Where the hell is my lens cleaner wipe thing

I'm the only one awake. I put the wipe on my bed, left to use the bathroom, came back, and it was gone. I looked everywhere that makes sense, and I CANNOT find it ANYWHERE

Whatever fucking demon is playing with me right now is about to get punched in the throat, I stg >:(

[forays-into-fiction]

The Box

You had been noticing some of your things going missing. At first it had been easy to dismiss, a hair tie here, an almost empty bottle of lotion there. But more recently it had been items harder to ignore, photos of treasured memories, items of clothing, so on and so forth. But you had no idea where they could be disappearing to, why would anyone even want that stuff, it’s not like it was valuable or anything.

 Minors DNI

Contains: Perv!Eddie/Perv!Reader, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining/Lusting, Masturbation, Sex Without a Condom, Dirty Talk, Slight Degradation, Mentions Creepy Behaviour That Goes Excused Very Quickly

Eddie escorts you to the front door of his trailer, holding the door open for you before following through. “Hey, I’m just gonna grab a shower real quick. You can make yourself comfortable in my room, you know the drill.”

You nod following him through to his bedroom, dropping your bag to the floor and sitting cross-legged on his bed while he pulls things out of his wardrobe.

“Only be a minute, you can pick out a video if you want. They’re just there.” He nods over to his desk and you follow his line of sight.

“Cool, will do.” You reply as he moves towards the bathroom.

Eddie strips off his clothes hurriedly, he’s been half-hard since the moment you stepped into his van, the way your little skirt rode up exposing more of your thighs to him distractingly. He’d been glancing over repeatedly the whole ride, practically white-knuckling the steering wheel. He doesn’t think you noticed… hopes you didn’t notice.

Stepping into the harsh spray of the shower and pulling the curtain closed behind him he wastes no time in gripping his cock, stroking it to full attention. He thinks about those soft, supple thighs as his hand glides over his length with a muted groan. He realises there’s not much distance between the two of you, only the thin wall separating you, you just in the next room over… in his bed.

He bites the inside of his cheek stifling his moans. This is so wrong, this is so wrong he thinks to himself, but if it’s so wrong why does it feel sooo good another little voice counters. His head falls forward resting against the wet tile in front of him, the strong metallic taste of iron fills his mouth.

He’s close, so close he can feel it fast approaching. He imagines you in those little black, lacy panties he’d found. He imagines flipping up the hem of your skirt and pulling them to the side and cumming all over them, your thighs, the way it would drip over your folds. Imagines you spending the rest of the day like that covered in his cum and it tips him over the edge, splattering the wall in thick, hot, ropey strands. It washes away quickly and he rushes to finish cleaning off.

There’s a handful of tapes sitting on his desk, as you approach you can see Alien, Body Double, 9 ½ Weeks and Sixteen Candles. You know which one he would expect you to pick, he would’ve rented it just for your benefit too. Instead of going for the obvious you opt for Alien, not recognising the other two. Secretly you love horror movies, but you tend to overplay your reactions, giving you an excuse to squeeze yourself into him, burying your face into his shoulder, pressing your tits against his chest as your nipples pebble against him. The jump scares do get you sometimes, but never bad enough to warrant the reaction you give. He’s never complained before, but when you do pick out a scary movie, he always gives a concerned, ‘Are you sure? You know how scared you get with these movies.’ To which you can’t help but reply with some variation of, ‘Yeah, but its ok, I’ve got my big strong Dungeon Master to protect me and I know how much you love them, so…’

 Video in hand you move back to the bed, listening to the sound of the water running, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the blanket beneath you. You grow bored rather quickly, tossing the video aside you pull your backpack up into your lap looking for something to occupy yourself. You don’t find much, you grab a notebook and pen doodling on it for a bit when you’re satisfied with the little drawing you’ve done you tear the page out and stick it to the wall behind his bed next to the banner that hangs there.

After returning your notebook to your bag, you pull out your chapstick freshening your lips, but as you go to put the cap back on it slips from your grip tumbling beneath the bed. You sigh sliding to your knees, reaching an arm under his bed blindly. Your hand bumps into a wooden box, you can’t help yourself, curiosity overwhelms you. Pulling it out staring down at it, you recognise it as the project Eddie had worked on in shop class, noting the little love heart you’d carved into the side.

 You pop the lid off and gasp at the sight before you, it’s a veritable treasure trove of your belongings. Things you thought you’d never see again, photos, hair ties, a pair of black, lacy panties, a mostly empty bottle of your lotion, a travel sized version of your perfume. You look closer, some of these photos are ones you’ve never even seen, taken without your awareness. 

The sound of the shower cutting off breaks you out of your stupor and you’re scrambling to shove the lid back on, flinging the box back under the bed. Leaping back onto the bed trying to look innocent, chest heaving with ragged breaths you try to calm yourself as Eddie begins opening the door. He walks in pants slung low on his hips, as he towels off his long curls you leer at his bare chest eyes traveling down to the sparse trail of hair that peeks out over the top of his waistband. He tosses the towel onto the bed and shakes his head like a dog before moving to his wardrobe picking out a shirt and pulling it over his head. 

He drops onto the bed slinging an arm around you, “So what d’ya want to watch tonight?”

He notices as you stiffen against him, flushing bright red, “Hey, what’s the matter? You, ok?” He asks softly.

You leap out of his embrace, backing away from the bed, stuttering, “Uhhh… I gotta… I gotta go.”

You bolt out of the room hightailing it through the front door.

He sits there for a moment, frozen in shock before chasing after you.

“Hey, where are you going?” He calls after you. “What’s wrong?”

“I just gotta go Eds.” You shout back over your shoulder.

“But I drove you here.” He shouts back.

“That’s ok, I’ll walk. I could use the exercise. Bye.”

He doesn’t know what to do, he wants to go after you, wants to insist on at least letting him drive you home. Trying to think what could have happened that set you off like that… it couldn’t be… no, there was no way. You hadn’t heard him surely, he’d done his best to keep quiet, bit the inside of his cheek ‘til he drew blood for Christ’s sakes… unless something slipped out without him realising, a moan, some other offensive sound, your name. No, no that couldn’t be it… but what else could it be. He spends the rest of the night agonising over what could have happened to send you running like that.

 You on the other hand spent the rest of your night with your fingers buried between your thighs, writhing around on your bed, biting on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. Your mind conjuring thoughts of Eddie getting himself off to you, your panties wrapped around his hard cock, your photos spread out over his bed, him cumming in thick, hot spurts over his stained mattress… is that how he would do it… or maybe he’d stuff your panties in his mouth like a makeshift gag, muffling his cries as he fists his cock desperately, finishing all over one of your photos, you’d definitely seen some residue on a few of them.

You spend the next few days avoiding him like the plague, you don’t know how you’re ever going to look him in the eye again or how to behave around him now. Not a day goes by that you don’t think about the contents of ‘the box’, every waking moment, every fitful dream… you can’t escape it. Soon even dirtier thoughts fill your mind, thoughts of adding to his collection. Posing for some naughty photos, leaving him your dirty underwear, a fresh bottle of lotion, on and on the thoughts race through your mind. You wonder how he’d react if suddenly one day there was something new there, something he didn’t put there.

 And then one night you do take those photos you’d been thinking about. Picking out a set of lingerie that you think he’d like, you get yourself all worked up snapping photos along the way. Pulling your panties to the side swirling your fingers around in your slick before plunging them in. Playing to the camera as best as you can. You orgasm three times that night, leaving your panties a soaking mess, you bundle them up with the polaroids you’d taken and shove them in the drawer beside your bed.      

 This is the longest the two have you gone without speaking since you met, he’d been trying to reach out to you this whole time. Calling your house, dropping by unannounced, trying to catch you at school, all to no avail. You’d managed to avoid him, but not without difficulty. He’d even sent one of his little Hellfire Club members with a message, begging you to just talk to him, but you refuse.

However, Eddie manages to corner you in the halls after school one day, dragging you into an empty classroom.

He stands in the doorway blocking your exit, you avoid looking at him, “Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why won’t you look at me? Why are you avoiding me?” He hisses angrily grasping your chin tightly forcing your face towards him.

You keep your eyes downcast as he continues, his tone softening slightly, “Seriously, y/n what’s wrong?”

You shake your head in his grip, refusing to answer.

“Please. Please tell me what’s wrong… I-I can’t…I can’t lose you.” He implores, words catching in his throat.

It tugs at your heartstrings and you finally look up at him, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his tone desperate, “Was it something I did?”

You hesitate, yes and no, it was also something you did, but you can’t even begin to explain it to him.

“Please, you’re my best friend. Please, don’t do this.” He begs.

You feel yourself tearing up too, you can’t bear to think that you’re hurting him, “Eddie, please just let it go. If you let it go maybe we can go back to normal.”

“That’s all I want… to go back to how it was before. But I gotta know was it something I did, something that we could have avoided?”

“No.” It’s a half-truth, but it’ll do.

“Are you sure?” He presses.

“I’m sure. We can move on pretend nothing ever happened…”

“If that’s what you want. Would you… would you like to come over tonight, maybe watch that movie we were supposed to…?”

 “Tonight?” You ask in a strained voice.

“I mean it doesn’t have to be tonight… whenever… whenever you’re free is fine.”

“No, uh tonight is fine I just…um, maybe I could swing past my house first?”

“Yeah, sure we can do that-”

“No, no I mean just me, I’ll uh drive over myself.”

“Yeah, that’s cool too… I gotta pick up some videos again anyway.” he breaks into an uneasy grin.

“Could I… could I get a hug… it’s just, it’s been so long and-” He ventures uncertainly.

You cut him off wrapping your arms around him, “I missed you, missed this.” He mumbles into your hair, pulling you closer.

“Missed you too Eds.” You admit.

You pull up to his trailer, parking by his van, you flip down the visor staring at your reflection. You try to psych yourself up, you can do this you’ve done this a million times it’s just a movie night with Eddie. But you can’t help but think to that little bundle you’d slipped into your bag, almost as an afterthought, it’s practically burning a hole in the front pocket. You shake your head as if to clear it, now or never you think before springing to action grabbing the bag and throwing open your door.

 You knock on his front door, you haven’t knocked on his door in almost as long as you can remember. Usually you’d just barge right in, but nothing felt normal anymore. Eddie calls out to you, “Just a minute…” before appearing in the doorway shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Oh, uh come in.” He jumps aside ushering you in with a sweep of his hand.

You’re thankful he didn’t question the knocking and you also don’t acknowledge his odd behaviour.

“So, uh I brought some snacks.” You hold up the bag, freezing momentarily when you remember your panties shoved deep in the front pocket, among other things. You clear your throat, “So, um anyway… your bedroom, like always?”

He nods, leading the way as you trail along behind him. You settle into your usual spot dropping your bag to the floor gently.

You don’t know what possessed you to bring them but you had. Tucked away in your bag by your feet, that little bundle of ‘gifts’, you can’t stop thinking about it as you pull out a stash of candy. You can barely focus on what he’s saying, he clicks his fingers in front of your face snapping you back to reality, “Hey, I said, do you want popcorn?”

“Oh, uh yeah sure, that’d be great. Thanks Eds.” You smile up at him nervously.

“Ok, be right back. You can set up the movie if you want. Did you still wanna watch Alien? I know that’s what you picked out last… um, last time, it was still on the bed when you… when you left.” He asks tensely. You nod in response and he exits the room.

 The screen crackles to life and you pop the video into the little TV/VCR combo unit you had gifted him, to much protest on his behalf, for his eighteenth birthday.

Pausing the film and turning back to the bed you bite your lip, you have a chance now… you could slip it into the box now, while he’s distracted. You can feel your face heating up as you contemplate it, glancing over to the slightly ajar door before thinking fuck it.

 Kneeling down by your backpack you pull out that little bundle and fish around under his bed for ‘the box’. Flipping off the lid you arrange your items neatly, unfolding them you place your underwear in first, followed by the polaroids on top and finally a new bottle of your lotion, little bow tied around it… was that too much? Maybe, oh well. You slide the box back under his bed.

Eddie renters his bedroom quietly, he didn’t mean to sneak up on you, just wanted to ask if you wanted extra butter on your popcorn. But when he sees you kneeling on the floor, ass up, hand reaching under his bed he can’t tear his eyes away, barely able to hold back a groan, until… under his bed, oh shit. He scrambles to action, sliding to his knees in front of you wide-eyed and panic-stricken he grabs your arm firmly, the one still under his bed trapped on top of the box.

 “What are you doing?” He hisses at you a mix of desperation, panic and anger seeping into his voice.

You sit there frozen staring into his eyes as they bore holes into your own, “Umm… I-I dropped my chapstick?” You answer uncertainly.

“Ok, where is it?” He demands.

You’re speechless, unable to respond, you know you don’t have a chapstick in your hand.

“Go on show me.” He insists.

“I… uhhh…” You stutter.

He drags your arm out from under the bed, your hand knocks the box, flinging it out to rest between the two of you.

Both of you stare down at it, his head snaps back up to look at you but you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

“Did you open this? Did you see this?”

You don’t trust your eyes not to betray you, you can’t look up, “No, uh-”

“Don’t lie to me. Did. You. See. This.” He hisses again.

You remain silent.

“You did, didn’t you… if not now, then… oh my god is that… is that why you took off that day?”

 He grips your chin harshly, forcing you to look at him, “Is that why you went running for the fucking hills? And what, you came back here to get rid of it or something?”

“No…” You mumble, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“No? Then what are you doing?”

“I… uh… just… just open it, Eds.”

He gives you a puzzled look before tossing the lid off, leaving its contents laid bare between you.

He picks up the lotion, wrapped in its little bow, turning it over in his hand.

He splutters, “Wh-what’s this?”

“Just… just keep looking.” You turn your head away in shame.

He looks back to the box, mouth dropping open in awe. He picks up the photos next, flipping through them gasping as they get gradually more and more explicit. He notices the panties next, dropping the photos beside the box to hold them up observing them. “Are these… are these the same ones from the photos?” He groans.

You nod still avoiding his gaze.

“Goddamn… what… why…” He’s unable to finish his thought.

 “Well, I um… you’re right I did find it that day, but it’s not what you think.” You rush to explain, finally looking up at him. “I uh, I saw this and I… I dunno I thought… I thought it was kinda hot.” You cringe a little. “And then suddenly you were back here, half-naked practically dripping wet, then you were all pressed up against me and I just… I didn’t know how to process it I guess.” You shrug.

He smirks at you, “You thought it was ‘hot’? Who knew you were such a little perv?”

You give him a slap, and whine, “Oh, shut up, it’s not like you’re not a perv too.”

“Oh, sweetheart you have no idea.” He hums, “But, then why did you run away, why did you avoid me for so long?”

“I just… I couldn’t face you after, especially after what I did…” You trail off.

 “What do you mean? What did you doooo?” He asks intrigued, drawing out the last syllable.

“I uh, I fingered myself when I got home and I… I thought about you. About how you might use the stuff in your box.” You bite your lip.

He groans in response, “God damn, that is the hottest shit I’ve ever heard. Is that… is that when you took the photos?”

“No um that was a few days later. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, the box, everything and the idea kinda just popped into my head to maybe give you something in return.”

“Awww, so generous of you.” He teases, standing and offering you his hand. You grasp it and he pulls you to your feet, guiding you to sit on the bed before plopping himself down beside you.

“So… what do we do now?” You ask awkwardly eyes downcast, twisting your hands in your lap.

“Well, we could just watch the movie, or…” He trails off.

“Or…?” You look up at him hopefully, into his eyes, now clouded with lust.

“If I’m honest I popped a semi as soon as I saw your cute butt wiggling around in the air and it’s only just been getting worse since.” He admits with a groan. You hazard a glance down at his crotch to see the tent that’s formed there and let out an involuntary whine.

 “You wanna… fool around a little?” You offer glancing back up at him.

“I want anything you’ll give me.” He sighs.

“O-ok… I gotta warn you though I don’t really have much experience with this stuff.”

“Me too, it’s fine.” He assures you, “We can figure it out together.” He smiles softly.

 His hand comes up to cup your face and he leans in hesitating before his lips meet your own. “Can I…?” He breathes out.

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours. He’s quick to deepen the kiss, groaning into your mouth. You part your lips letting his tongue explore your own.

When you break apart, both panting he murmurs against your lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too.” You sigh. “Ever since-”

He cuts you off, “Don’t. Don’t, I don’t wanna know how long I could have had you… how long I could have had this. Just too stupid to figure it out.”

You slap his chest, “Don’t say that, you are not stupid!”

“But-”

“No! I won’t hear it. Now you better get back to kissing me Munson.”

He pauses uncertainly, you fist your hand into the front of his shirt pulling him back in capturing his lips between your own forcefully.

“Mmpf… yeah… mhhhh… yeah ok.” He moans into your mouth between kisses.

Your hand wanders down his chest to palm at the prominent bulge in his pants. He bites on your lower lip drawing back, draging his teeth along it before releasing.

“You, uh… you wanna get naked for me?” He asks tugging on your shirt.

“Yeah…” you hum in agreement pouting up at him, “do you wanna take off your clothes too?”

“God yes. But you first, I wanna watch.”

“O-ok…” you lower your hands shakily to the hem of your shirt raising it over your head slowly before dropping it on the bed beside you. He gapes at your chest, hands coming up to hover over the swell of your breast.

You sense his hesitation and grab his hands pressing his palms into your sensitive flesh. He groans and gives an experimental squeeze drawing a soft whine from between your lips. He stares on appreciatively as you snake your hands behind your back to release the clasp of your bra, brushing his hands away to pull it free and tossing it away.

His hands are quick to return to their original position now circling your nipples with his thumbs. “This is… goddamn, this is better than any wet dream I’ve ever had.” He murmurs.

You giggle teasing, “And we’ve barely done anything yet.”

“God, I know. Can I… can I get you to lie back?”

“What happened to ‘getting naked’?”

“Yeah, changed my mind, want you to keep your skirt on… if that’s ok?” He rushes to add. “It’s kind of… part of a fantasy I want to try.”

“Yeah, sure.” You reply moving to lean back against his pillows.

“Thank you.” He mumbles moving to straddle you, towering over you.

It’s your turn to tug on the bottom of his shirt now, “Can you get rid of this though, I wanna see you too…” You bat your eyelashes at him. He eagerly hooks a hand into the bottom of his shirt pulling it over his head tossing it aside grinning at you. You run your hands over his chest your eyes following along with their movements. Your fingertips come to rest at his handcuff belt-buckle and you look up into his eyes as you undo his belt. Unzipping his jeans, you tug them down to his knees before rolling down his boxers to join them, his thick, hard cock springs forth, the tip flushed and dripping. Your eyes widen at the sight, “You got a pretty cock Eds…” you breathe out in admiration.

It twitches in response, “God, sweetheart you’re too good to me.” He moans.

The way you squeeze your thighs together beneath him doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he smirks at you devilishly, “Someone’s getting a little antsy, aren’t they? What do you want sweetheart? Tell me.”

“Touch me, please…” You whine.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He brushes his hands along your neck, down your shoulder, “Here?” He teases.

“No. Down… down there.” You pout, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

He reaches down trailing his fingertips in circles over your knee, running his hand up under your skirt to your thigh and squeezing firmly, so close to where you need him, “You mean here?”

“No, Eds! I mean… I mean my pussy.” You sob with a pathetic broken little moan.

“Oh, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” He moves torturously slow, flipping your skirt up and tugging your panties to the side exposing your sopping wet cunt to the cool air of his room.

He runs two of his fingers through your slick folds, groaning appreciatively, “All this from just a little groping, god you’re such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

“Oh god, yes. Just for you Eds.” You gasp as he begins to circle your clit.

“Yeah, tell me again how you touched yourself thinkin’ ‘bout little ‘ol me. Tell me, what was I doing in your fantasy?”

You can barely think straight, only just managing to stutter out, “Thought… mhmmm… thought ‘bout you u-using my… hmmm… my panties to jerk off… thought ‘b-bout y-you cumming all over my photos.”

He plunges his fingers into your entrance as he continues, “You wanna know about my fantasy?”

“Yes, please Eds.” He wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion stretching you out in a way that has you panting.

“Well, in my fantasy I’ve got you like this, skirt flipped up, panties pulled to the side as I jerk off above you. When I cum it goes everywhere, all over you right here…” he pushes his fingers even further into you, you begin clenching down on his digits, “then I pull your panties back in place, make you walk around all day, feeling my cum dripping out of you, spreading all over you. You want that?”

“God yes! Eds please I’m cumming.” You wail as your walls pulse around him.

“Fuck, that was hot.” He groans while slipping his fingers out from between your thighs leaving you trembling beneath him.

 He stares down almost trancelike, at his slick digits, slippery with your cum before pushing them into his mouth sucking on them as his eyes drift shut moaning obscenely.

“Fuck me Eds.” You whine desperately.

His eyes snap open and his hand drops from his mouth, “Uh yeah, god yes… let me just find a condom.” He leans over to his bedside table but you grab his arm.

“‘S fine don’t need one I’m on birth control an’ I wanna feel it when you cum, wanna feel it inside…”

“Fuck, you keep talking like that I’m gonna blow my load in like two seconds…”

“‘S ok if you do, I mean I already came jus’ wanna make you feel good now.”

He growls pushing his jeans and his boxers down to his ankles kicking them off at the edge of the bed. He grips the waistband of your panties moving to pull them off but you stop him, “No leave them, you can fuck me with them on like in your fantasy, you know just pull them to the side.”

“Goddamn, you are like the best wet dream ever, come to life…”

You hook a hand behind his neck cutting him off and pulling him into a searing kiss.

You pull your lips away from his reluctantly, “You gonna fuck me now or what?”

He lets out a rumbling groan, “Yes princess, anything you wish.”

Gripping his shaft at the base with one hand as the other pulls the fabric covering your entrance to the side, he rubs the head along your folds teasingly before slowly easing himself in. He pants out, “Let me know… if- if it’s too much, ok?”

“Mhmm.” You mumble gritting your teeth at the slight burn as your walls stretch around him, while not your first you are unaccustomed to anything of his size.

He bottoms out resting there for a moment allowing both of you to adjust to the sensation before testing the waters with a shallow thrust. His hips shift into a steady roll and you bite your lip whining at the sensation, flexing your walls around him.

 “Oh god, you feel sooo good… I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, fucking you raw…” He gasps.

“Oh, Eds I’m not just letting you do it, I want you to.” You reply breathily.

His hips slam into yours as he lets out a broken moan, “God yes, my dirty little girl wants me to cum inside her.”

“Yes, ‘m yours Eds. Wan’ you to fill me up.” You pant.

“Oh god ‘m not gonna last much longer do ya think you can cum again?” He asks desperately.

“Yeah, maybe… lemme try something.” You drop your hand between your joined bodies, swirling your fingers around your clit and bumping against the base of his shaft.

Your eyes roll back, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as you clamp down around him. He bucks up into you one final time, hips stilling and unloading deep within your wet heat with a cry of your name he collapses on top of you. The two of you lay there, bodies quaking with aftershocks and panting into each other.

He slips out of you moments later readjusting your panties patting them in place as your combined fluids leak out, staining the gusset.

He presses a kiss to your thigh before breathing out “You were so good for me sweetheart.”

“Yeah? Do you think we could do that again sometime?” You look down at him hopefully.

He rakes over the length of your body coming up to face you “Oh, sweetheart you’re not going to be able to keep me off of you now.” He chuckles darkly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You giggle at his response, “Good… So, you still wanna watch the movie?”

“I guess, if you want.” He shrugs.

You nod moving to grab your top, pulling it back over your head forgoing your bra. He moves to grab his own clothes pulling on just his boxers and shirt.

“You still want that popcorn?” He asks moving to the doorway.

“Yes, please.” You grin at him.

He returns bowl of popcorn in hand, he starts up the film and snuggles up to you.

You munch away at the popcorn in his lap, he spends the whole movie anticipating your reactions, but they never come. He’s confused normally you’d be a jumpy mess long ago, you don’t even flinch when it comes to the chest-burster scene. He pauses the film looking at you eyes narrowed, quirking a brow, “Hey, what gives?”

“What’re you talking about Eds?” You mumble back through a mouthful of popcorn.

“You are not reacting to any of this like at all, what gives? Normally you’d be a mess right now, halfway in my lap-”

“Oh, uh yeah about that… I was never actually scared in any of the movies we watched.” You admit with a sly grin.

“What? Then why-” He splutters.

“Cause I wanted to touch you, wanted an excuse to be close to you… so, I… faked it a little.”

“Oh, you little… here I was thinking you had no idea the torture you were putting me through, but you knew, you did it on purpose?!” He gasps affronted.

“Well, I didn’t know it was affecting you too. I just wanted to be closer to you.” You pout.

“We’ll, I guess that worked out for you huh?” He teases.

You smirk back at him, self-satisfied, “It did, didn’t it?”

As you shift from side to side happily in your seat on the bed there’s an audible squelching from between your messy, sticky folds.

Eddie gasps, “Shit, I fucking heard that. Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

You giggle, grabbing his hand to push his fingers against the drenched fabric between your legs and he inhales sharply.

“Are you trying to start something again… already?!”

“Maybe…” you reply cheekily grinning up at him.

He groans head hanging down towards his chest before snapping back up and pouncing on you, “Come here then.” He growls.

[nox140497]

A Midnight Crisis

Prompt: No

Request: No

Summery: Colby has a panic attack late one night.

Prompt Number: None

Pairings: Colby Brock x Female Reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

_______________________________

Colby shut his laptop with more force than intended and rubbed his tired eyes. It was past 2am, and he was no closer to finishing the script for his next video.

Glancing around the dimly lit editing room, stacks of notes and camera equipment stared back at him, each item representing hours of work ahead. The never-ending to-do list seemed to stretch into infinity as pressure and perfectionism gnawed away at his sanity.

A tapping at the door pulled Colby from his spiraling thoughts. "Sweetheart, come to bed," said his girlfriend Y/N softly. "You've been at it for hours."

Colby nodded wearily and followed her downstairs. As they curled up under the blankets, Y/N gently stroked his damp hair. "What's keeping you up?" she asked softly.

Colby took a shaky breath. "I just feel so behind. If I don't post at least twice a week, the algorithm will bury me. And the comments..." His voice cracked. "People are always criticising - the lighting, my jokes, who I film with, everything. I try so hard, but it's never enough."

Y/N pulled him closer. "You work like three men already. No one achieves perfection, at least of all in a few hours each time."

Colby knew she was right, but the churning anxiety refused to subside. What if his viewers lost interest? Sponsors pulled funding? It had happened to bigger creators - he wasn't immune.

"I'll never sleep at this rate," he sighed. Reluctantly climbing out of bed, Colby headed back to his prison of screens and cables. Y/N followed, concern etched on her face.

Back in the office, Colby began rewriting his script frantically, deleting and retyping sentences over and over as familiar panic started clawing its way up his throat. What if he picked the wrong topic? Messed up the comedic timing? He typed so fast his hands began to cramp.

A stabbing pain in his chest made Colby gasp for air. Black spots danced before his eyes as the walls closed in, trapping him under the crushing expectation to perform.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around him from behind. "Colby, you need to breathe," urged Y/N calmly. She took his trembling hand and placed it on her chest. "In and out, slowly. I've got you."

Colby fought to match her even breaths as crushing anxiety morphed into racking sobs. "I'm losing control," he cried into Y/N's shoulder. "What if I can't do this anymore?"

"Shh, it's okay," soothed Y/N gently. "Come, let's get some air."

Walking unsteadily through the silent house, Colby slowly began to regain control of his breathing in the cool night. Y/N never let go of his hand, grounding him through the lingering panic.

On the back porch, they sat close together, watching the stars. An uneasy silence stretched between them as Colby gathered the courage to speak.

"I'm scared this will break me," he admitted shakily. "I pour everything into videos only to be constantly worried if it's decent enough. It's not making me happy anymore - it's destroying me." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N gently wiped it away and took his face in her hands. "You are so much more than the metrics or comments say. I see how talented and kind you are every day. This channel was supposed to be fun, so please don't let it ruin your health or us."

Her earnest eyes conveyed nothing but compassion. All the resentful feelings Colby harbored towards himself began to melt away under Y/N's unconditional love and support.

As the first light of dawn broke over the trees, Colby finally felt some of the crushing weight lift. Exhausted but calmer, he leaned into Y/N's shoulder, grateful beyond words that she saw his true worth, not defined by meaningless views or numbers on a screen. This was only the beginning of getting his life back on track, but with her by his side, Colby believed things could get better.

A week had passed since Colby's panic attack, and he was beginning to feel more like himself again. Taking time completely away from YouTube at Y/N's suggestion had brought unexpected relief.

Without daily stresses to focus on, Colby rediscovered long-lost interests like photography and gardening. He spent afternoons going for hikes with Y/N, marvelling at nature's beauty through fresh eyes. Their home filled with snapshot memories from each outing, captured joyfully on film.

With structure and rest, Colby's anxiety gradually released its grip. For the first time in months he slept well, free from dreams about botched collabs or unkind comments. Y/N watched him awaken each day looking more energised, reminding her gently of the importance to maintain this lifestyle.

One sunny afternoon found Colby immersed in tending roses along the fence border. As he trimmed away wilted blooms, flashes of memories surfaced - cramming scripts at 3am, editing well into dawn, forgetting to eat or take breaks. Exhausted, sore hands moved on auto-pilot to create a never-ending stream of content.

His downward spiral had been gradual yet forceful, spurred on by perfectionism and fear of slipping in the algorithm. But Y/N's care dragged Colby kicking and screaming from that dark routine, revealing how lonely the path of overwork had become. A cold shudder passed over him at the realisation of how close he came to burning out completely.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Colby's gaze fell upon Y/N watching tenderly from the porch. Her bright smile warmed his soul, reminding him that life held more meaningful things than views or trends. Carrying the gardening tools inside, Colby collapsed on the couch beside her with a happy sigh.

"Feeling better?" she asked, handing him a cool drink. Colby nodded gratefully. "I'm amazed at the difference a week makes. Things seem clearer now."

He stretched comfortably, thoughts drifting back over stressful nights locked away working endlessly to please abstract metrics, while neglecting real connection. That loneliness had almost swallowed him whole.

"Thank you for pulling me back from the edge," Colby told Y/N earnestly, taking her hands. "I lost sight of what really matters, but you've given me a new perspective."

Y/N leaned in for a lingering kiss. "I'm just glad to have you here, happy and healthy. Promise me you won't let it get that bad again?" Smiling, Colby promised to always communicate how he felt from now on, never bottle things up until breaking point.

That evening, the couple discussed potential strategies for Colby to maintain wellbeing going forward. Setting stricter schedules with enforced breaks, delegating tasks, limiting social media use - simple changes aimed at sustainably managing pressure and burnout prevention.

Colby knew regaining control would take diligent effort. But with Y/N by his side, nothing felt impossible anymore. Her patience and reassurance instilled a calm confidence in his ability to return renewed, without sacrificing mental wellness. The following week, Colby finally felt ready to resume video making.

Armed with new perspective and healthier habits, Colby crafted a short update video explaining his break to concerned viewers. Speaking candidly about mental health awareness and balance, he saw more supportive comments roll in than ever before. The positive reinforcement served to cement Colby's resolution to prioritise fulfillment through diverse passions instead of basing self-worth on one metric's fluctuations alone.

Weeks turned to months of sustainable creativity. True to his word, Colby kept communication lines open with Y/N, never hesitating to discuss feelings or setbacks. With her encouragement he joined local photography groups and took on freelance opportunities to spread creative wings beyond YouTube alone.

Most importantly, Colby learned to be kind to himself through both triumphs and failures. Looking back on a time when anxiety nearly took control of his life, he was profoundly grateful for Y/N's unconditional love and support. It was this care that gave him strength to overcome adversity and regain balance, emerging healthier and happier than ever before.

[cal-flakes]

iI have an idea if you'd like to write this. So I was thinking maybe the reader and Rafe are fuck buddies and they get into a fight, and then they have hate sex and then maybe in the morning, the reader wants to leave but Rafe wants more time with her

╰┈➤ hateful sex with rafe

warnings: very nsfw, degradation, choking, swearing, fluff at the end.

summary: could friends with benefits be something more?

the click of her heels was drowned out by the obnoxious, drunk looks scattered around the house. her chest heaved as she stomped through the house, making her way to the main balcony.

shoving the door open, y/n stepped over to the couch outside, plonking down on it in a huff.

“hey y/n! long time no see!” a voice called. with a reserved smile, she turned to face it. “hey top, yeah it’s been a while” she laughed awkwardly. the last thing she wanted was to be sat there with topper thornton, but what she really wanted wasn’t up for grabs.

“so where’ve you been? are you still with rafe?” he asked, sincerity in his words. y/n threw her head back in a laugh, resting her hand on his leg. “you are so funny topper! i was never with rafe..”

his eyebrows raised, leaning into her touch. “oh? i thought you guys were together, my bad” he whispered in her ear, smirking. “no, he couldn’t give me what i wanted..” she grinned, moving closer.

“what’s that?” a growl snapped from beside her, looking up, her eyes widened in feigned shock.

“oh nothing, me and top were just talking..” she spoke in a sly tone. topper froze slightly as he felt rafe’s eyes narrow in on him. “come on y/n” rafe spat, yanking her out of the chair. the grip on her arm leaving a red ring in its absence.

y/n stumbled in her heels as rafe pulled her through the house, watching as his jaw clenched in frustration.

she hasn’t had the chance to say bye to topper before she was shoved through a doorway. “what the fuck rafe!” she shouted, taking in her whereabouts.

slamming the door behind him, he stalked towards her, pinning her against the wall by her throat.

“the fuck are you doing out there huh?” he yelled back, hot breath blanketing her face. a sly smirk appeared on her lips.

“wouldn’t you like to know..” she mocked him. rafe seethed as he held her, nose to nose. “i don’t know why you care anyways, what happened to your whore?” she teased, loving the affect her words were having on him.

“oh-oh that’s what this is about? you weren’t getting the attention you wanted?” he stuttered furiously, his forearm flexing as he tightened the grip on her neck.

her silence only enraged him further, keeping his hold on her as he pushed her over to the bed, face down.

“you’re so desperate for attention you go to my bestfriend, huh? you little slut” he sneered, undoing his belt behind her.

butterflies erupted in her stomach, his hurtful word were music to her ears, only increasing the wetness spreading between her legs.

rafe pulled her dress up, bunching it around her waist, revealing her bare. a hard smack to her backside had her gasping, longing for more as she clenched around nothing.

a hand reached around to circle her clit as another tangled itself in her hair, pulling her back up against him. “fuck..” she whimpered.

“shut the fuck up, you’re lucky if i even let you cum” he whispered, reaching further to push a finger through her folds. his hot breath sent tingles down her spine.

her walls clenched around his ring clad fingers as he pumped them, moaning loudly at his fast pace.

“what the fuck did i tell you?” rafe removed his fingers suddenly, earning a needy whine.

pushing her back down, he kicked her legs apart, opening her up for him.

“is this what you want? you want my cock you needy bitch?” he teased, brushed the tip against her.

nodding furiously, she whined into the sheets, desperately looking for something to hold onto.

noticing this, he made quick work of pinning her hands behind her back before burying himself inside of her. y/n had no time to adjust to his size, her mouth agape as her ruined her from behind.

“next time, you come and get me. i don’t care who i’m with or where i am. you’re mine y/n, and you better fucking remember that” he growled, timing his thrusts with each syllable.

the coil in her stomach turned tighter and tighter as he let his anger roll through her. “rafe! rafe i-im gonna-” he cut her off, rubbing his thumb against her clit, pulling her closer to the edge.

“i’m with you baby, cum for me..” he spoke breathlessly, putting all of his effort into the last few thrusts.

her nails scratched against the sheet, pulling a few threads out as release washed over her. the muscles in her legs strained as rafe’s fingers dug into her fingers, filling her completely.

he collapsed on top of her, running his fingers along her spine softly, causing her to flinch at the ticklish spots.

his arm around her waist tightened when she struggled against him, attempting to shimmy out from underneath him.

“rafe, what are you doing?” she questioned, brows furrowed.

“stay” he slurred into the pillow, tiredness setting in. “what?”

“i said stay y/n, i want you to stay” he spoke up, turning slightly to look at her.

“you want me to stay?” she smiled, a content glint in her eyes.

“you’re mine y/n, of course i want you to stay..” he grumbled, almost as if she was supposed to know this.

rafe never wanted her to stay, in fact he was always the first to leave. over time she picked up on this, although it hurt her, she suppressed the warm feelings for the sake of what they had already.

rafe asking her to stay had her heart pacing, threatening to unlock the box she kept her feelings in.

“but you never want me to stay?” she continued her interrogation, attempting to avoid false promises.

“i want you to stay here with me from now on, you’re mine and m’gonna make sure everyone knows it..”

[pedge-page]

LOVEDDDD PLUSHY X PK!! WE NEED PREGNANT READERx PLUSHYx PK 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

ITS HERE!

Notes: Set in the Plushies!verse where reader is pregnant (NOT Joel dealing with Preggo Wife couple). for extra content/background, you can read Plushies!Joel and Reader discovering their PK, and Plushies!Joel and Reader pregnancy Bonus chapter

Warnings: PISS KINK, Plushies humping, PISS on PLUSHIES, Joel cumming in boxers, "dry" humping (no actual sex but it sure as hell isnt dry here either), Daddy ish kink like once (I didn't count man this isnt proof read)

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Ever since getting pregnant with Big Bad Mr Joel Miller’s big fat fucking kid (that you may have “begged” him to put in you—on accident), your back has not experienced pain like this since said baby-daddy body slammed you into a brick wall in a dingy alley when you hooked up outside a bar. He proceeded to tend to your back all night with kisses and soft rubs and lotions, and ended up learning of Joel very peculiar double sided dynamic.

You slide your keys on the counter only for them to fall down to the ground. With a moon sized belly, you weren’t even gonna bother bending to pick it up. That’s the floors problem (and future you that needs to get around)’s problem. Not yours. 

You waddle towards the bedroom. Grateful for your plushie obsession being the one thing you were prepared for: a wall of fluff and comfort conforming to your body 24/7. You rotate with little tippy steps until you’re facing the wall, then collapsing backwards on the bed slowly, only to be met with a squirmy hard lump that grips your belly securely from nearly tossing you off the side:

“YEOOW!” 

He lurches in pain as your elbow dug into his side and ass smashed his poor dick under the crushing weight of you.

“JOEL! GET OFF MY BED!” You scream, kicking and flailing uselessly in his grasp. He’s still buried under the mountain of plush with your big body plastered atop him, but he won’t let go either.

“It’s OUR bed, babydoll,” he groans. you turn your head to the side to see his hooked nose just barely peeking above your BunBun’s fluffy cotton tail. He shakes his noggin side to side to get fresh air across his face and to make eye contact with you, your head resting against his shoulder.

“I was just takin’ a nap, no need to get snippy,” he grumbles. He kisses your cheek and rubs along your belly.

“My plushies,” you mumble with a pout, folding your arms over your chests.

The awkward position only makes it more difficult to get comfortable. Joel’s crazy strength alone is one thing, but the gravity of having an additional 25 pounds on your mid section is somehow giving him the upper hand in holding you against him. You wanted to fall on soft, cottony clouds and colorful friends that you had collected over the years, not a hard man with his hard belt digging into your spine and his even harder cock poking your ass hogging them for his personal nap blanket.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“I need to get up.”

“Why?”

“I need to—“

“I CAN DO IT! LETS DO IT TOGETHER!” He rolls you to the side like a rotating hot dog and immediately fists a plushie, shoving it between your spread legs. “S’okay little Momma, do ya thing.” He’s hanging over you, his pupils wide and mouth curved into an excited smirk, practically drooling at the space between your legs. While one knuckle presses the plush (of which you can’t even see over your belly) at your crotch, the other is rubbing circles into the squishy part of your pelvis.

You shake your head. “I don’t need to fucking masturbate, I need to pee!”

Joel tilts his head in confusion. “I thought that’s what we were doin’?”

“IM NOT PEEING ON THE—“ you drag the plush squeezed in his hand from out below you so you can get a good look at who’s about to be sacrificed—“ON PINKY THE POLAR BEAR!!!”

He snatches the stuffed animal back and glides it between your thighs again, this time with his knee pressed tight so it’s sandwiched just out of your reach. “Pinky aint about to be a good name f’him—how bout yellow-y, or piss-y or pee-y—OH how about PINKY—! Oh no wait a minute…”

“Jooooeeell!!!!”

He starts rubbing harder against your mound, licking his lips as you begin to flounder helplessly. “Give it ta me, princess, Daddy Bear’s gonna take care of everything, you just do what ya do best, so beautiful f’me, Fuck me, that’s my good girl, yeah, yeah do it angel.”

But you shake your head. Your hips sway side to side, but between him and the mountain of stuffed animals surrounding you and the lump of a swell at your belly, there’s no where to run. “No! I’m not doing that—ugughhh—shit again!”

Joel pouts his lips, not letting up his assault. “Please! You liked it so much last time, remember?!”

“That—was an accident!!!” You lie. No you didn’t want to piss on a stuffed animal again, for fear it will reawaken something inside you that should have never surfaced in the first place: that you might enjoy it. “I don’t want to ruin Pinky!”

“I’ll toss her in the wash!” He nods quickly ,as if it’s a good deal. As if you were even getting a say in the matter.

“NO!!!”

But Joel ignores you. He leans back, and you can just barely see off to the side the massive boner he’s got pressing painfully in his jeans. He quickly unzips himself, his boxers still on but his cock having more room to breathe, spilling out in front to make a large grey tent. He hooks his thighs under your calves, hoisting himself close to you so that both of your core’s are only one squished polar bear stuffie apart.

“That’s it baby—fuck yeah,” he groans heartily. With one arm leaned behind him to hold himself up, he grinds against the animal, in tern grinding against your clit and suffocating your pussy. His other hand is splayed over your bladder, his palm thrumming down deep with each roll of his hips. 

You’re trapped. Your tummy is full, your badder is even fuller, and Joel’s so lost in a piss/plushie drunk state that there’s no getting to him now until he gets what he wants. 

Toes curling in, shaking from the pain of your walls breaking, all you can think is ‘I’m sorry Pinky’ as you let out a yelp that had lodged itself in your throat. your hands slap over your eyes as you cunt squeezes out the pregnancy-piss-poor storage of urine that had built up so quickly inside, releasing it onto the plush’s innards. 

Joel grunts one last time and goes silent to confirm it’s happening. “Oh fuck—Oh Fuck yeah baby holy shit!” He pulls you in even closer so that his balls are sunk right under your ass. There’s a faint hissing of your piss blessing his ears as it drenching the bear, who’s getting yellower and heavier as you continue to go. Joel moans, eyes rolling when he rolls himself tighter against you, and the warm liquid begins to seep onto his underwear. “OOOHhhh ugughh yeahhhhh,” he whines, and soon he’s cumming inside his boxers with your warm piss costing his shaft, sticking the fabric to him like a wet hug.

“That’s my Momma bear, pissin’ all over her lil toys, showin’ em who’s boss.” He hazily wedges his thumb under the hood of your clit and begins rubbing, pushing his hips closer so your slit is completely surrounded by the squelching warm wet cotton of your own pee-soaked Pinky.

His encouragement flies right to your lower belly. You bite your lip as you begin to shake, back arching best it can in the current position with a silent scream as pleasure washes over your entire body. It’s wrong, so wrong how freeing and good he makes it all feel, like he’s conditioning you to feel pissing your stuffed animals is a rewarded behavior.

Fuck this guy.

You both sigh out into the air, panting hard. Joel doesn’t bother to move or clean anything. He’s too busy basking in the wet, debauched mess between both of your spread legs. Your underwear, the once innocent and dry Pinky, his jeans and boxers now darkened, heavy, and sticking to skin with the cooling remnants of your glorious piss. 

“You—“ you rasp, pointing to him with a lazy finger but unable to lift yourself from your orgasmic mind. “YOu’re cleaning—everything.”

Joel just lets out a half laugh, half choke, nodding. “I know.” He bends forward and kisses the top of your swollen stomach, the part that didn’t get soaked from the water sports. Girthy hands rub along your thighs soothingly as he makes out with your pregnant tummy. 

You fist a bunch of dry plushies and droop them over your head, hoping to smother yourself in a Plushie heavenly sleep and deal with the aftermath of your new kink tomorrow.

- - - -

Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce

[persephone11110]

Red Wave

Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: periods, blood—period accidents, past abusive relationship—asshole ex byf, relationship fluff, soft jake seresin,cuddling, hurt/comfort,curse words

Summary: Your period would come the night you spend the night at your boyfriend Jake’s house.

AN: random fic, the result of me enduring period pain. this fic was created a month ago— my coming back fic Enjoy❤️

—

It wasn’t uncommon for you to ignore the pain that settled at the bottom of your stomach. Unfortunately you’ve gotten accustomed to the pain—the way it rattles through your stomach, reminding you it still there. Had you banged in sick today you wouldn’t been at work today much less Jake’s apartment.

Not because you don’t want the share the same space as him but because what if he’s digusted by you?

What if Jake decides he doesn’t want you sleeping in the same bed as him and makes you pick between the cold floor or your car?— Patrick made you do that every single month.

—

Not many people think a big muscular man with asshole tendencies like Jake would enjoy spooning in bed. Only person who got the courtesy to enjoy was you— the only other person who had the right to see Jake Seresin and not the brash Hangman.

You.

His face is pushed against your back, his warm hands roaming around your cold stomach. Jake can’t and will never get used to this. The emotional feeling of having someone love him even when he still thinks he’s unworthy of love, the physical feeling of her touch.

At first his eyes are too busy roaming your sleeping body. The way your feet curl up because your too stubborn to admit the fact that you indeed are cold blooded. “Ice Queen”.

Jake’s pulling the blanket up when something wets touches his hand. He can’t just roll over and ignore it, he lets go of you and reaches for his phone.

The bright light shines onto the silk sheet it revealing a dark red stain.

Oh.

This isn’t rocket science, Jake Seresin has been with plenty of women—and he’s spent the last two years with you.

“Doll wake up”. Jake whispers, gently rubbing his fingers onto your back-attempting to wake you up. Jake smiles when he sees your eyebrows perk up— in dissatisfaction.“C’mon Y/n, all I need is a couple of minutes”. He fingers gently graze ovee your face— moving pieces of hair outta of your eyes.

Jake watches as your eyes finally open.You caught the time of the clock 0200— Why Is Jake up so early?, Is there an emergency?

“Jake?”, your voice is filled with worry-“Whats wrong?”.

“Nothing serious honey”Jake’s quick to reassure you.

If its nothing serious then why did he—

Thats when you feel it— and you easily identify the wetness that currently in between your legs.

Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Jake” you sniffed—you jumped out of bed—grabbing the already bloody sheet and wrapping it around you. Out of the corner of your blurry eyes, you notice how badly you bled all over the sheets.

“I-I’m sorry Patrick I-I didn’t mean to at all, you have to believe me”, your lips quivered with fear. you remember what happened last time, and the time before that.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Y/n!” Patrick angered stance reminded you of an angry animated character. Fumes running out of his ears and nose—face beat red.

All you can remember is him gripping your wrist. Next thing you knew your were on the ground holding your left cheek.

“You never fucking learn Y/n“Patricks right… you never really did learn.

You can’t count how many times you’ve stood against the shower wall staring at your own blood swirling into the drain.

“Y/n?” your vision is still to blurry to see who’s infront of you. Someones hands are gently tugging at you,“C’mere darling”.

His slips in behind you ignoring the high pressured water. He could care less about his damp clothes, Jake only cared about you.

“I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry” you kept muttering over and over again as you buried your face into Jake’s chest. “Please dont”.

Jake hates how small your voice sounds—he hates how much fear is rolling off of you.

“its okay…its okay” Jake kept whispering into your ear. “Sweetheart I’m not going to hurt you, you know that right?”, he slowly adds—Jakes unsure of how to begin.

How many times did Patrick say that to you?—how many times did he really mean it?

Jakes not Patrick.

“Yeah”, you whispered into his chest. A brief silence is followed before you break it again.“I’ll clean it up you know”.

“Doll”, hes paused his kissing,“If blood scared me I would’ve never joined any sport teams, much less became an aviator”. He presses a kiss into your shoulder—, his voice is so firm and confident.

“Thank you Jake” tears drip down your face.

“Y/n theres no reason for you to be thanking me for the bare minimum”. Water splashes as he moves around to get to your face.“Doll you need them its no different from when I buy you black coffee or how I make you eggs bloody with ketchup”

Tears started to well in your eyes“Awe, Jake thats so sweet”, your hormones are all over the place—“I love being in love with the sweetest man on earth”.

You don’t have to open your eyes to see how red your boyfriend face is–you chuckled lightly at his appearance.

“Whats so funny Doll?” He’s smiling into your head.

“Nothing, i love you”. You insisted cheekily as giggles leave your mouth. “So much”.

[kaeyx]

3+13+ Dazai plss🙏

3. “There’s so many things i wanna do to you

“13. “You know, how about a little fun before we go to bed?” + Dazai

Warnings: smut, gn!afab!reader, fingering

Notes: nothing much, just short and sweet

It's warm here, under the blankets, your head resting against Dazai's chest. You whine quietly as his hands slide up the back of your legs and finally slip under your shorts, squeezing your ass. He does this quite a lot, cuddling you every night and touching you without hurry, memorising your skin with slow kisses. Sometimes you fall asleep like this, a pleasant heat in your gut. Sometimes you grind yourself against his thigh until he fucks you to completion, drowsy bodies entangled until you're both worn out.

"Can't decide what I want to do to you," Dazai murmurs, stroking your sides and kissing the top of your head. "You look perfect."

A happy sigh spills from your lips and you turn your head just enough to kiss his chest, running a hand through his hair.

"Dazai," you plead quietly and for once he complies, holding you by the waist with one hand as the other nudges its way down, past your waistband.

Two fingers plunge easily into your slick cunt and your body eagerly sucks them in, goosebumps rising across your arms. You groan softly, biting your lip to keep quiet as Dazai's fingers curl and his thumb finds your clit, spreading your wetness over it.

"You're so warm, darling... don't hold back, I want to hear you."

You're rocking your hips against his hand instinctively now, chasing your pleasure as you moan shamelessly against his neck. He's holding you tight, muttering praise as his hand finds just the right pace to make you buck your hips and gasp, pleading in a shaky voice for more, more, more.

With his encouragement you let a quiet moan slip out, grabbing onto the front of his shirt and shifting your legs so he can press deeper into you. It's a comfortable stretch, filling you as he continues to rub little circles into the puffy, twitching bud.

"Keep going, please," you whisper, burying your face in his neck and whining against the warm skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere you can reach to feel him shiver. The fingers inside you speed up a little, making obscene sounds as your velvety walls squeeze around them.

His name falls from your lips as the orgasm tears through you, your body curling up as you try to rock your hips, trap his hand between your thighs so he has to stay buried in you to the palm.

"That's it baby, that's it... say it, say my name..." Dazai moans himself, nuzzling against you as he holds you while you tense and then go limp, panting softly. "I could watch you do that all night."

[jamespottersdaisy]

We could slow dance to rock music, kiss while we do it.

Sirius Black x fem!reader.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

warnings - drinking, mentions and allusions to sex, no explicit description but still it's pretty obvious that i'm talking about sex so i don't want minors around, fwb?

6.2k

author's note - i like this, but also don't. english is not my first language so beware <3

Your eyebrows were creased, straining the muscles around your temples. You would feel the slowly-forming headache if you weren’t too deep in thought, glaring at the parchment before you.

Stars, lines, moon, and a blank space. A blank space which you should fill. 

It wasn’t supposed to be that hard, not if you already had an O.W.L degree, yet somehow your nerves were tense, and you could feel your angry breath against your lips. You were aware of your heartbeat and your shirt's fabric on your skin.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to sleep. It would be nice to lie on the soft bed, and bury yourself under the heavy blanket. Slowly relaxing to the warmth, closing your eyes and dreaming…

No. You had a star chart to finish. 

Thus, you groaned and started abusing your poorly-overworked brain once more.

You drew and erased and drew again. You took a break to rest your fingers, messaged your temple, and you drew once more. You even measured the distance between two stars before drawing yet again. 

You were almost finished when a chortle echoed from the stairs. 

It sounded closer and closer with every second, yet it wasn’t accompanied by anything. Whoever the person that was wandering around at…

You checked the clock.

Three in the morning. 

Whoever was wandering around at three in the morning, he was alone. What was he laughing at then?

You didn’t need to wonder more as your head snapped at the stairs instinctively when you felt his shadow. 

“Black?” 

Sirius was staggering down the stairs with a big grin on his face. He frowned a bit when he found your frame crunched up behind a table.

“Why are you up?” he asked, and you could barely comprehend the words. 

“Studying,” you said, “Why are you up?”

He shrugged and tripped over, supporting himself from the walls. Another chuckle left his lips. 

You tried not to laugh at his state.

“Are you drunk?”

He offered you a belittling look, which you were sure emerged because of the intoxication.

“No. Do I seem drunk?”

His long raven hair was loose, tousled around his face. His eyes were glassy, and a hazy grin was embracing his lips. You tried not to stare at his jawline.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I am not drunk, so,” Sirius threw himself at the sofa and winced when his head hit its arm. “Perhaps a bit tipsy.”

“How did you even manage to sneak alcohol in?”

You were sure they didn’t leave alcohol lying around in the castle, and nor did they serve it during dinner. Your question seemed to only amuse him more.

“Ask no questions, hear no lies,” he drawled, turning his head at you. “What are you studying?”

His outstretched hand pointed to the parchment before you, and you shrugged. 

“Star chart.”

“Did you find me?” 

You smiled and arched a brow at him. Little did he know he was the only thing you could think about when you were looking at the star named ‘Sirius’.

“You’re the brightest, how could I not?”

He hummed and stared at the ceiling. You turned back at the paper before you and tried to focus. 

Sirius’s presence didn’t render focusing any easy. You were hyper-aware of anything he did and everything you did. You could feel him cast spells with his wand, fetching a chess piece or flying a bar of chocolate around. You could feel your leg bouncing up and down and the urge to stare at him nagging you.

It wasn’t your fault that Sirius Black was beautiful. 

Jet black hair cascaded to his shoulders, tired grey eyes cutting into your soul like a knife. His sharp bone structure only complimented more to his mischievous grin. The way he carried himself around in the hallways would ensnare your breath, and the wry smile his lips crafted would glisten your stomach.

Sometimes you would find yourself observing the way he carried out idlest tasks, and you would feel drawn to the way his long fingers played with a pen or the way he slicked his hair back from his face. Occasionally, he would catch you staring, and his lips would curl into a sly grin.

You might not fancy him or bear feelings for him, but you definitely found him attractive.

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

You flinched at his dulcet tone, averting your head at his slouched stature. His eyes were still on the ceiling.

“In a few minutes, why?”

“I’m bored,” he finally glanced at you. “I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour.”

“It’s been roughly twenty-five minutes since you’ve come down,” you said, swallowing the words for ‘Why are you waiting for me?’

“Same thing,” he shrugged and called you again. “Be quick, come on.”

You didn’t remember what you scribbled down on the paper, but you were sure they were all wrong. You merely got it over with to walk up and sit next to him. 

Sirius sat up, offering you space on the sofa. You placed yourself a bit away from him and stared at his face. He stared back at you. You didn’t blink away. Neither did he.

Finally, you got bored.

“You said you were waiting for me–”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You made a confused sound at him. What was with intoxicated Sirius? Sober Sirius wouldn’t ask this to you.

“You were waiting for me to ask this?”

“No, I just forgot what I was gonna say,” he nodded several times, eyelids getting heavy. “So, I thought I wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

“You’re a bit tipsy, and you've already started forgetting what you were gonna say?”

“Why are you asking the facts as questions? It’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.”

You were looking more bemused than before now. Sirius must’ve seen it that he started laughing. You didn’t comprehend what was going on in his head. 

“You don’t even notice doing it, do you?”

“Sirius, you sure you alright? You haven’t smacked your head on a wall or something?”

He looked around thoughtfully.

“Remus did smack his book to my head an hour ago.”

“You should go to bed,” you got up, offering him your hand. “You’re talking gibberish.”

“I’m good,” he shook his head, grinning up at you while sinking deeper into the sofa. “We have just started talking.”

“Well, I want to sleep,” you grabbed his hand and dragged him. “Get your arse up.”

He was heavier than he looked; you were having a hard time dragging him up on his feet. You were having a hard time getting yourself up on your feet, too, when he pulled you into his lap by your intertwined hands. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed, feeling Sirius’s fingers on your back. You were awfully conscious of his touch and your placement on his lap. 

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Sirius,” you grit your teeth, trying to raise yourself. He clicked his tongue when you squirmed, giving you a disapproving look. 

“Don’t move too much,” he said, and you felt his grip on your back tightening. 

You wanted to get up but didn’t want to feel another…friction. 

“What question?” you asked to sway the topic and the attention to something else. Something else that wouldn’t heat up your core or wouldn’t sweat your palms. You didn’t even remember the question.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you blurted out and pushed yourself up. Sirius bit down his lip when you did, and you chose to ignore the rasping sound from his throat. You were sure you were sweating.

“Good night, Black.”

You turned your heels and almost sprinted to the stairs for the girl's dorm, but a resonant tone grasped your attention.

“Wait, you’re not gonna help me?”

You groaned and halted your steps, ready to strangle him. He had a feigned smile on his lips when you turned away, and for a moment, you were eager to leave him there to his own devices. 

“You didn’t accept my help when I offered it in the first place.”

“Offer again, come on,” he dragged out the words, signalling that he was indeed too inebriated to handle himself. 

Thus, you sighed and strode back, hauling him from his arm. He shifted his weight to you, and you were sure he did it on purpose. 

“I’m not carrying you, Sirius, just helping you out,” you reminded him, but to no avail. He simply glanced at you with hollow eyes and back at the stairs of the boy's dorm.

The smell of his cologne enticed you, but you managed to bury the butterflies back into their graves. You attempted to drown the screeches in your mind’s walls that echoed, nudging you to heed the proximity between your bodies. His warm breath hitting your cheek didn’t lend a hand to your endeavours of putting a leash on your racing thoughts.  

You headed to the stairs, ambling because of Sirius’s weight. Once you approached them, you groaned, earning a chuckle from the boy. 

“Help me out here, I can’t carry you all by myself,” the moment the words left your lips, you felt him pull a part of his heft and lift a step. 

You were grateful, but it lasted a second. You felt burned on top of your body as you two climbed the stairs– well, mostly, you climbed both of you. 

With every step, you felt your muscles tense up, and your breath deepened. When you diverted your eyes to Sirius, the same warm breath caressed your lips. He was watching you this whole time, listening to the voices you were making. 

His Adam's apple moved up and down when your eyes fell to his lips, and your breath hitched when his hand on your shoulder touched your hair. 

You had to remind yourself that he was drunk. No matter how much his touch ignited your skin or how much his darkened eyes burned deep in your core with desire, he was drunk. He wouldn’t even remember what was happening at that very moment.

What was happening, again?

Oh, nothing. Sirius had simply leaned in and left only an inch between your lips. You simply exhaled deeply into his lips, giving away how much he was affecting you.

Only a bit more, and your lips would touch, your body would flame up, and your heart would burst with lust.

He was drunk. 

You inhaled and stepped back. You didn’t look back at him, not until you arrived at your destination. You were expecting that you would have to carry him inside the room, too, but Sirius pushed himself off you and stood on his legs. 

“Cheers, love,” he said playfully, his eyes still lost in somewhere between sobriety and drunkenness. You watched him step back, put his hand to the door handle, and open it with a scowl.

“You could walk?! Why did you make me carry you?!”

He simply grinned before closing the door.

You were agitated for the next two days. Mainly because lessons were hopping on your nerves and because Sirius hadn’t acknowledged that night. The possibility that he had forgotten things was taunting you.

You wouldn’t mind it if you two weren’t almost about to kiss. Neither had you paid attention to him much before nor had he to you. It wouldn’t be much of a fuss for your mind if it were before. But it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t simply before, and you were starting to notice too many little things about him.

He would huff at the strand of hair before his eyes when cutting an ingredient. He would poke out the tip of this tongue between his lips when he was too focused on something. He had a mole right under his right eye, but it was too tiny to take notice.

All these new details would fumble your concentration.

Thus, when you two were partnered up in Potion’s class, you were frowning most of the time. The other part of the time, you were confused about what to do next for the damned potion. 

“Did you add the sloth brain?” you asked Sirius, much to your dismay. 

“No, stir twice clockwise first,” he readied the sloth brain, waiting for you to stir the pot.

You obliged, aware of Sirius’s hovering frame next to you. God, he smelled divine. It made you mad. 

He added the last ingredient before taking the spoon from you. Chills ran down your back when he brushed his fingers to yours, and you swore at yourself for acting and feeling like a thirteen-year-old. You despised the way your heart took pace when he sneaked closer to you, and your body refused to step away from him. Thus, you pushed him with your hip.

"Move away.”

“Don’t be bitter, I’m helping you out.”

“I am perfectly capable of making the potion.”

You weren’t. Your mind was so lost that Sirius had to intervene four times during the lesson.

“Capable, my arse,” he hits you with his upper arm, showing you slightly back to regain his previous place. “Did you make this many mistakes on your star chart, too?”

That was when your body froze for a second. 

He hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You tried not to divulge any out-of-ordinary emotions. 

“My star chart was perfect until you came down and interrupted.”

Sirius shrugged, and you noticed that he also curled his lips downward. You glanced at his hands clutching the ladle and involuntarily gazed at the way he stirred the pot.

“It’s not my fault that I’m distractingly beautiful.”

He was distractingly beautiful. At least for you, he was beautiful enough to delve into your mind and ruffle all your thoughts.

“You were simply distractingly annoying,” 

Sirius smirked at you, his eyes narrowing vaguely. 

“You didn’t seem annoyed when you were on my lap.”

You felt the heat attract your skin, sweat threatening to emerge if you kept visualising how his hands felt on your back. You weren’t going to let him discern this, however.

“Need I remind you who pulled me there in the first place?”

“Nah, I did,” he took your hand and placed it on the ladle. “Do I need to teach you how to stir, or can you do that yourself?”

“You got tired already?” you mocked him, stirring the potion. As every normal person would, you expected him to deny or mock you back.

“Indeed,” he said instead.  

In the next moments, he would lean on the desk and watch you stir, and you would try your best not to ask him the question that was eating you alive. 

He would stare at your eyes blink while you watched every ingredient dissolve into the liquid just to avoid Sirius’s impact on you. He would observe every muscle twitching on your face while you were wincing at the screaming voices from the next desk. He would admire your smile while Professor Slughorn said, ‘Good job, kid’ to you.

If only you stopped fighting shy of his presence and heeded, you would notice that his eyes never left you for even a moment.

In the next few weeks, you would engage with Sirius more than any time of the year you had been in this school. 

He would come and sit next to you, bothering you while you were reading something. When you shooed him away, he would simply promise to stay quiet and listen to you read. 

‘I will be as silent as the grave.’

At some point, you would stutter, and he would ignore it. 

He would tease you at every opportunity and grin when you would get mad at him.

‘Stop eating my bloody muffins, Black!’

He would repeat the same thing only to adore the scowl on your face and the wrinkle between your brows, but you would be too irritated to notice it.

He would keep you company at your night studies but mask it as ‘not being able to sleep’. 

‘Remus snores too loud.’

You would be too tense to perceive his covetous gaze. 

You wouldn’t understand his sudden interest in you, but you secretly cherished this new friendship.

You would feel tingles when he drew stars on your arm during the lessons. You wouldn’t be able to hide your smile when he would ask you to polish his nails black. Your heart would flutter when he sat beside you and listened to you read. 

However, there was also something else lingering between the two bodies. A tension that would tense you, fluster your mind, and frazzle your skin with a yearning for his touch.

You would feel it when his breath hit your cheek, his finger brushed your hand, his thigh stroked yours. You would feel it when he whispered at night, hummed at your jeering words, and grinned at your tinted face.

You would feel it when he found you at midnight on Astronomy Tower, too.

You didn’t know how, but he would magically appear and cross your way; your encounters had tripled recently. Especially when you were alone.

At least once a week, you two would stumble upon each other in the Tower and the plain ‘hey’s would turn into deep late-night talks. Sometimes you would tell him how you had the worst day in your life, and he would briefly mention his family. 

You were slowly becoming friends. 

Yet, a feeling had been clawing your skin every moment he was close, exhorting you to touch his arm, his hand, his leg. A small gesture to the eye, but your heart would clench with a yen for more each time.

The exact feeling was now nagging you as Sirius was talking about his dream tattoo.

“A constellation?”

“How else would people know what star it is?”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. A simple star wouldn’t indicate the name, and he was determined to have Sirius tattooed. It was rather a silly conversation for one in the morning at Astronomy Tower, but recently you had grown to enjoy his voice.

“Where do you want it?” you asked, and he smirked.

You watched Sirius get up from the wall you’ve been leaning on and pull his shirt up. You expected him to point somewhere around his navel, but instead, he clasped the shirt between his teeth and placed his hand on his black pants.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit panicked, but your eyes betrayed you by peeking at his abdomen.

“Not taking my pants off, calm down,” he grinned and pulled the right part of his pants slightly down. You could swear you felt your breath get heavier when his right hip came to view. Everything from the sharp outline of his bone to the thin hair on his skin was boiling something in you, threatening to spill any moment.

“You could've just said to my hip,” you averted your eyes at his face with force. 

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t see that look on your face,” he said, pushing his clothes back to their rightful places. You feigned a frown when he sat back next to you, your arms touching. 

“What look?”

“The one you make whenever I’m too close to you.”

You could feel the embarrassment climbing into your core and the need to lick your lips itching your nerves. 

“I don’t make any looks,” you managed to voice, trying to cover your chagrin with insouciance. 

Sirius scoffed and leaned in, almost daring you to prove him wrong. And you tried. You tried so hard not to hold your breath, not to pinch your thigh, and not to gulp the apprehension away.

He grabbed your chin when you failed. 

You kept your eyes on his grey ones, albeit his hot breath begged you to shut them. You wondered if Sirius could hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Sure you don’t,” he whispered, and you hated him for it.

Anticipation was hurting you, burning your heart with desire. You were irked that he wasn't doing anything. Teasing you, pushing you to the edge of the cliff, but never letting you see the view. You despised that you were at his mercy. 

He pulled away when you leaned in, chuckled at your eagerness. You were about to stop this madness and leave the Tower if it weren't for his hand on your waist that pulled your body close to his.

He was playing with you, testing your limits and self-control, which you clearly lacked. Or else you wouldn't arch your back at his touch and part your lips.

His hands roamed every inch of your body, but lips never touched yours. He let you place your hand on his collar but not on his face to crash your lips to his. You let his hands caress the bare skin of your arms, needing them closer to your heart, but he didn't give you what you wanted.

Your patience was hanging from a thread, ready to snap in a second. You could feel the frustration building up, slave to one mockery to burst into flames. Irritation and anticipation blended together, their colours turning your stomach upside down.

One more smirk from him, and you would snap.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

So you snapped.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

You weren't soft, he wasn't gentle, and the kiss wasn't tender.

It was hungry, zealous, and rapacious.

His lips fought with yours, intoxicating your every sense. Your nails marked his neck, earning rattled breaths that urged you for more. His hands claimed your skin, igniting every inch with lust.

You tugged on his hair when he bit down on your lip, and he pressed his fingers harder on your skin when you slipped your tongue inside.

Your breath mingled with his, and your lips parted only briefly when he pulled you to his lap.

The next second, he was pulling you in, hands on either side of your face. You pushed his hair away from his face, moaning to his lips.

His hands found their way under your clothes, making you arch at the cold of his fingers. Your lips were swollen and red at his point, as well as his. 

Yet, he didn't stop. Not until you were both unable to breathe anymore.

When he did stop, your lips missed his lips. You let your lungs take the air they needed while your eyes stared deep into his darkened ones.

Both of you were gasping for air, chests moving up and down in sync.

What would happen next stretched to dozens of moments, hundreds of thoughts and thousands of doubts.

You could stop right here and there. You could pause and talk about it or even not talk about it ever again. You could stay in the dark, refusing to learn what it would be like to feel him, to hear him, to taste him. Or…

All you had to do was to make the first move.

You chose the latter.

Great changes were made to your life since that night.

For example, you had learned how to sneak into the boy's room. You were now passing the Requirements Room more often, and your lips would be somehow swollen every time you were late to class.

It was exciting, the feeling that you could anytime feel a hand on your arm pulling you close, but it was also incredibly messy. You were skipping classes, meals, and even small chats with your friends.

You didn't regret it, though.

His quiet moans against your skin, your nail marks on his back, and the hot breaths lingering between the two bodies were all you needed to recall to abide.

It didn't have a name. 

You two were clinging to each other as hard as you could, your lips were begging for more even though there was nothing more to take, and the loving words were being spoken in the heat of a moment. But it didn't have a name.

You never bothered to think about it.

“I’m not sure they will fall for that,” you mumbled drowsily as Sirius was playing with your hair. A little bit more, and you would doze off on his bare chest.

“They will, they’re astonishingly stupid,” he said, and you frowned at how he didn’t trouble himself to keep his voice down. It was the middle of the night, and you were sure the other three boys were asleep–or trying to fall asleep– as you two talked.

“They’re smart enough to guess why you’re inviting them to a Gryffindor party,”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and you felt your head move. “But we’re inviting all the Slytherins, and they’re proud enough to show up.”

“You still won’t tell me what’s the prank?”

He laughed, and you winced at the loud tone. 

“You just have fun, leave that part to us–” 

“Some of us are trying to sleep, Pads!” James exclaimed, and you stifled a chuckle. Sirius had mentioned that he woke up early every morning.

“It’s only midnight,” he called back, and you squeezed your lips together when another calm but firm voice was heard.

“Sirius, be quiet.”

“Be quiet yourself, Remus!”

But as time passed, you found yourself questioning things, trying to put on a label desperately so you could comprehend. So you could understand why he kissed your lips and called you his friend to others, why he put distance between you in public but got frustrated when he couldn’t feel your skin on his in private, and why he didn’t even touch you in mornings but marked you at nights.

You often found yourself gazing at the way his hair stuck to his temple or the way his fingers stroked the bruises on your hips.

“You’re staring,” he said between rapid breaths as he threw himself beside you. You laughed, drawing a deep breath in. 

You didn’t know how to ask this with the least damage, but you also knew if you let this…situation go on, it would only harm you.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Did I add glue to Pete’s shampoo? Yeah, I did.”

You rolled your eyes at him before giving him a disapproving look. Sirius merely grinned and nodded. 

“Kidding. Ask away.”

Here goes nothing

“I want to know,” you dig your nails into your palm. “what…this is.”

You were sure you didn’t choose the right words, but how else were supposed to ask it without sounding cheesy? When you peeked at Sirius, he looked frowning, eyes blinking fast enough to let you know his mind was blank. 

“What is what?”

“This,” you repeated, this time with more determination. You swung your pointer finger between the distance. “Us. What we are doing.”

“I–” he stopped, staring at you. You felt like his gaze was accusing you of relying on him for all the answers. “You can end it if that’s what you want.”

Your face fell in annoyance. How was that any relevant to what you asked?

“That’s not what I said.”

“I don’t understand what you said then.”

You sat up and started putting your clothes on, your brows furrowed. Sirius watched you propped up on his elbows. You tried not to peek at his hair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I am not going anywhere until you answer my question,” you tugged your shirt and faced him. “I asked what are we?”

You cringed internally for voicing the words and cursed Sirius for making you. But it had to be done; you weren’t going to be one of those people who would fall in love with the ideas in their heads. You had to know what you meant for him.

Sirius was biting his lips, picking the skin off. You arched a brow at him, still waiting.

“Friends?”

“Friends don’t moan each other’s names.”

Sirius groaned, sitting up. His eyes never left yours, his lips parting and closing in a search for the right words. Oh, how you wanted to dive into his mind and see the mess.

“I don’t know. What do you expect me to say? I’m in this as much as you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. You two never talked about this, but you should’ve. Because right now, your unspoken words were getting in the way. 

You looked at his conflicted face, loving the gleam of emotion you didn’t understand but hating the cross ambience you were too familiar with in his eyes. You were a stranger to your feelings for him; you didn’t know what you wanted, not yet, at least. But whatever it was, being away from him wasn’t the one.

Minutes had passed, and you were still silent. It hindered him and hampered the space between you. Somehow, the arm’s distance felt like miles for you. 

Sirius cleared his throat. 

“Do you– are you asking this because you want to see others, but you feel like you owe me something?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, words building up on the tip of your tongue. So many thoughts and words were waiting to be said, and you felt like you didn’t have enough time for them.

“No–”

“Because you can.”

“What?”

“See others. You can do that if you wish.”

You were staring at him with a glower. He was fine with you seeing someone else. Did this mean he felt nothing of importance for you? Did this mean you should also be fine with him seeing someone else? Well, you weren’t.

“I don’t want to see others,” you said, albeit you were sure something ruder would come out of your mouth. “So this is purely physical? Just sex?”

He stood still for a moment, denying you any answer. You knew he was thinking. You could see it from his eyebrows, hands, and eyes that moved around. You just didn’t know what he was thinking.

You also knew it was way too late for you when you felt a sting in your heart as he spoke.

“Yes. Just sex.”

Nothing changed, and yet you felt like everything had changed.

It was still the same tender touches, soft words, and zealous kisses. It was still the same tingle in your stomach when he would call you pretty while you whimpered with pleasure. It was still the same fire on your skin when his lips would caress every inch. It was still the same peace when he would hold you close afterwards.

However, the sleepless nights, warm tears and red eyes were new. The agony in your soul when he would simply nod at you in the mornings was new. The storm in your heart when he would leave you alone in empty rooms was new. The war in your mind when he fell asleep on your lap was new.

You hated every moment of it.

You started to see him with other girls more, too. Maybe you simply had started to pay attention, but it bothered you. It boiled your blood, tensed your muscles and twisted your tongue.

You wanted to show him it was more for you, but you didn’t know how. Of course, you could simply go up to him and confess your feelings. But where’s the fun in that? You were determined to get a confession from him.

That’s why you repeated everything he did that wounded you. 

He simply said ‘hey’ at you in the common room? You didn’t acknowledge him.

He said one of you should leave first so that you don’t attract attention? You were already out of the room.

He was about to swallow a girl whole? You didn’t do that yet. It felt beneath you to betray your feelings like that.

But you did watch him with a drink in your hand, music blasting in your ears and blazing eyes. His hand rested on the girl's back, a smug grin flashing as he lowered his head at her to hear her. You could feel every drop of poison travelling in your veins when he touched her, thorns of jealousy bleeding you. 

What a party.

At some point, you even contemplated returning to your room but decided to not let him ruin your night. Thus, you found your friends, and to your luck, they had enough energy to let you loose.

They made you sway your hips to the rhythm, jump in your place, and scream the lyrics from the top of your lungs. You were even drunk enough to feel dizzy, or maybe that was just too much jumping around.

You closed your eyes for a moment to take a break, laughing at yourself. You knew you shouldn't do it, but your hands poured another drink, ready to gulp it down.

“What are you doing alone?” a familiar voice called your attention. The raven black-hair was enough to let you know who it was.

You hated his attire. Black leather jacket on his bare chest with the same coloured pants. You hated his rings. Wrapping around his fingers too elegantly, forcing you to peek. You hated the black nails that you painted and the eyeliner you drew.

“Drinking.”

Sirius nodded and maybe even hummed, but the rock music was too loud to hear. You felt him take your hand and slowly pull you.

“Come dance with me,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. You hated the butterflies too.

“I don’t want to jump around, my head hurts.”

“Then we’ll slow dance. Come now.”

"To rock music?"

"Sure," he rested your hands on his shoulders, embracing you with his and pushing your bodies together.

"This is ridiculous," you breathed to his lips. Music and your movements didn't align. It made you feel out of place.

"How is your night so far?" he ignored you, and you heard the sarcasm in his question. Would it be bad if you punched him in the eye? But again, you loved his grey eyes. 

"Wonderful."

"Mine is too."

You rolled your eyes. He brought his hands to your hips. You could feel the odd looks from the people around. Who danced like this to rock music?

"Yeah, I saw."

He smirked, and you stepped on his foot.

"Saw what?"

"The wonderful in your night," you snarled, and his eyes caught yours escaping to the direction of the girl Sirius was with moments ago. 

"Are you jealous?" he asked as he swirled you around.

Maybe you should punch him after all. Hopefully, it would wipe off the smug on his face.

"No.”

“She was needed for the prank. To lure Rosier in.”

“Don’t remember asking.”

“I know. Didn’t want you to think of something else.”

‘Why?’ You wanted to ask but blurted something else out instead.

“We don’t owe each other anything, do we? You can do what you like, and I can do what I like.”

He frowned a bit. 

“I thought you didn’t want to see others.”

“Time will tell.”

“I don’t want you to see others.”

“You were the one–”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” you asked this time. Your heart was beating with the excitement of being so close to what you wanted to hear.  “It’s just sex like you said.”

“I made a mistake,” he said and turned the whole conversation into a joke again. “I didn’t know it was possible, either.”

“I will leave if you can’t stay serious for five minutes.”

“Fine, sorry,” he chuckled, but it was forced. His hands were sweaty, and his movements a bit sloppy. He was being extra careful not to step on you. He was aware this was the moment he was supposed to open his heart.

But he didn’t. He didn’t, and you waited.

You waited as he drew a sharp breath in, and you waited as he licked his lips. You waited for the words that never came. 

He was pushing you to the edge of a cliff, not letting you see the view. You could give up, let go of whatever this was. You could abandon your feelings and forbid your skin to his touch, and he wouldn’t have the power over your heart anymore.

All you had to do was to make the first move.

“I want this to be more, Sirius,” you said. 

His breath stopped for a moment. His hands tightened around your hips. You felt your steps come to a halt, too. Not that you were complaining; it was a weird dance. 

“I want you to be more.”

He rested his forehead against yours, a crook of a smile appearing on his lips. 

“We’re on the same page then,” he whispered, and you heard it despite the screams and music around you.

You didn’t know why he had such a hard time admitting his feelings or voicing them properly. But you were used to it. He wouldn’t tell you he cared about you, instead, he would dance to rock music with you.

You smiled and started to move ineptly at the head-aching music. He kissed your lips when you did, and you happily returned it. His lips were soft this time, and his kiss tender. Your smile didn’t fade when he pulled away. 

“How is your night so far?”

“Wonderful,” you giggled, “Yours?”

"You're the wonderful in my night," he whispered before kissing you again.

i'm a bit insecure about this one, but i'm also extremely tired

thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

and if you care to, buy me a coffee<33

[marvelnatswhore]

🌧️ with wandanat pleaseeee?

Rainy days ~ drabble asks

wanda x nat x reader~ rainy day things

no warnings x

a/n: hopefully you don't mind that this is wandanat x reader i just realised you meant WandaxNat :') also sorry I forgot this was in my drafts

⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧⧗✧

Your Sunday morning started out cold.

Rain rippled down your windows in varying streaks, the sound of it pouring down echoed throughout your home as if it was reminding you of its presence.

With the rain came the cold, and a chill settled over you. Even buried under your piles of blankets it still seemed to find you.

You shut your eyes listening to it for awhile, something about it was almost comforting and you tucked yourself further under the covers, between the two warm bodies that wrapped around you.

"Cold, detka?" Wanda whispered through a yawn, feeling you nuzzle closer into her neck.

"Very." You hummed, squinting at the clock on your wall that read 10:26am.

You were glad you didn't have work today. Mostly glad you wouldn't have to brave the storm currently descending upon your garden, but also grateful for the lazy mornings like this. staying wrapped in the warmth of your girlfriends with nothing to think about except the moment you're in.

You stayed like that for most of the morning, laying together, whispering about nothing and everything, almost falling back asleep as Natasha mindlessly braided a strand of your hair.

As much as you would happily spend your day in bed with them, you eventually left the comfort of your bed, slipping into your fluffy clothes and socks to join your girlfriends.

Wanda sat huddled in the corner of your couch with a book in her hands, and what you were sure was Natasha's jumper wrapped around her. Natasha hummed something familiar, rummaging through the kitchen cupboards in search of marshmallows to add to three mugs of hot coco resting on the bench.

You made your way over to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder.

"Yes, moya lyubov?" Natasha asked,

"Nothing." You whispered, watching her add a few marshmallows into each mug.

"Want some?" She said, holding up a warm mug to you. You released her from your arms, happily taking the mug and breathing in the sweet scent. "Thanks, natty." You quickly kissed her cheek, taking a sip of the beverage and holding it near your face to appreciate the warmth it gave off.

You soon joined Wanda on the couch, and she offered you a portion of her blanket as you snuggled yourself in between her arms. Natasha sat beside you, leaning across your lap to pass Wanda her mug.

"So what are we watching, baby?" Nat said, smoothing your stray hair back.

"How about a movie?" Wanda said taking a sip of her drink.

"Anything." You said, holding back a yawn.

"Don't think Netflix has that one out yet." Natasha said, making Wanda laugh.

"Oo a disney?" You said, and your eyes lit up.

Natasha agreed, scrolling through disney-plus until she reached your decided film and the music began as Zootopia started playing. You lay back against the warm bodies beside you, feeling somewhat envious you couldn't stay in the moment forever.

[devil-doms]

When MC dies

X

AN: whoops, i kinda went back and forth between them finding out in the moment and how they act in the long run. my bad

Lucifer:

He buries himself in work, even taking part in Diavolos papers. He acts like he’s fine, humans are supposed to die. This was normal. He wants to convince himself that he was fine. He stares at the paperwork, waiting for words to appear onto his paper, but nothing was happening. Why wasn't anything showing up? A tear rolled down his cheek, he couldn’t convince himself any longer. His pride was broken. He tries to get himself together before mentally preparing himself to tell his brothers.

Mammon:

He pretends it didn’t happen. You are still very much alive and well. He will still call your number to listen to your voicemail message. That’s how he knows you’re okay, your voice is there. How could you talk if you were dead? He sits there as he processes what he’s doing, he breaks out in loud sobs. He couldn't be there for his human, he couldn't see them, and now its too late. No amount of grimm could make him feel better, there was no price tag on you. As his first, you could never be replaced.

Levi:

He tries to comfort himself. He orders your favorite snacks, watches the animes you watched together, he curls up with his body pillow and thinks of it as you. He hugs it and talks to it as if you’re still there and listening to him. He hasn’t left him room is weeks, his brothers don’t bother to force him to leave because they want to do the same thing. He wants to go to you to talk about it, he knew he could always go to you. Every time he thinks that, he reaches for his phone to message you, then he remembers that he is on his own this time.

Satan:

Rage. He completely loses his composure and destroys everything around him. He throws his books around, knocks everything off his desk, punches the wall, his anger was clouding his vision. He goes to rip one of his pillows from his bed when he catches a glimpse of a cat plushie you had gotten for him. He could feel you looking at him through the plush. His eyes swell with tears and he drops to the floor.

Asmo:

His heart drops. The one person he loved more than himself…was dead…? He pulls a Levi and hides himself in his room. He completely lets himself go, he doesn’t do makeup, wash his face, do his hair. His nail polish was chipped and his skin was breaking out. He stares at your photos together and zooms in on your face. He begins crying seeing your beautiful, smiling face.

Beel:

“No, not again…” He thinks to himself. He knows humans can’t live forever but he thought maybe you could. That you were different. He goes to the kitchen and does the only thing he knows what to do, eat. It doesn’t help, it’s not working. He just feels empty. He goes to your room to feel surrounded by you when he sees Belphie in your bed. He comforts his younger brother once again, he knew this feeling all too well.

Belphie:

He wears one of your hoodies and curls up into your bed. He pulls your blankets up over his head, surrounding himself with your scent. He sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps, waiting for the day you wake him up. Waiting for you to tell him he’s running late. Waiting for you to yell at him for missing your date. Waiting for you to comfort him. He knows deep down it’ll never happen again, and he’ll be forever waiting.

[andkisses]

♡ always, promise | sunoo ♡

you decide, snuggled up as the weather turns colder, that sunoo deserves all your love

♡ sunoo x gn!reader | wc. 1.4k ♡ genres/tropes: domestic, fluff, two dorks in love who say it ♡ mentions of/warnings: sunoo calls reader a pet name ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for mingyu from svt ♡ masterlist ♡

Rain showers the roof in soft pats, sliding down the walls and running over the windowsill before continuing it’s journey downward.  Outside, the trees and grass and flowers have become an electric shade of green, with the leaves glowing in the fresh water.  Wind blows the light raindrops around in swirling circles, creating a delicate mist that moves and breathes at a moment's notice.

Just inside, separating cool from warm, is the fireplace, flames licking and crawling around the logs. They crackle and spit when the wind rushes or when raindrops slip down the chimney. A warm glow casts around the living room, where the heat keeps the winter chills at bay.  Soon, the weatherman figures on the television, the rain will change into sleet and then into snow.  By tomorrow morning, he determines, there should be a good foot of fluffy white snow blanketing the ground. Double check your plans, he warns, because some things will have to change.

But you don't have plans.  You hardly even hear let alone register what the weatherman is droning on about over your heartbeat.  And you swear you can hear his, too.

Every single blanket the two of you owned, including the fluffy comforter off the bed and the soft throws from the couch and every extra one from the linen closet, were tossed onto the floor between the couch and the fireplace. The coffee table has long been pushed aside and forgotten along with the cooling mugs of cocoa and coffee resting on top.  Every single pillow has made its way down with the blankets, too.

And then there’s the two of you, snuggled up in borrowed hoodies and long pants and warm fuzzy socks.  You're in one of his hoodies—you "borrowed" and never returned (partially because it's warm and partially because smells like him) but he never asked for it back (partially because he knows you love it and partially because he loves how it looks on you).  You're both buried beneath the blankets and pillows, but still close enough to feel the fireplace's heat to feel delightfully toasty.

Close enough to feel each other's warmth.

Your hands find their way to cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, eyes closed with a soft and peaceful smile on his face.  A frown shapes your lips.  “You're still cold,” you say, pinching his still-red cheeks.  “You shouldn’t have come over in the rain.”

He laughs, giggles turning his cheeks warm beneath your touch. “What are you? My mom?” He reaches out to boop your nose. “I distinctly remember you saying you were lonely and asking me to come over.”

You make a face, scrunch your nose–because he’s right. You were lonely and you did ask him. And you had been paying attention to the weatherman earlier, imagining the snow and ice and what it would be like to build pillow forts with Sunoo and keeping each other company. He’s already closed his eyes again, melting into the touch of your hands. God, you’re so in love with him.

But you don’t let him know that. That would be embarrassing. Instead, you counter, “You could get sick.”

One eye slowly peers open mischievously, the matching eyebrow quirking up. “Me? Sick?” He laughs again, shuffling closer to you.  His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in, and you end up with your own arms around his neck.  He plants a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, and even though you can’t see it, you can feel his smile against your skin.  You must have me mistaken for someone else.  I'd never get sick.”

You stay there like that for a while, a smile secure on your lips, you nestled in his arms and safely tucked under his chin.  He curls into you, almost like a kid who’s spent too long from home.  A drowsy state falls over the room, and you see everything through warm, hazy vision.  Outside, the rain had turned to sleet, just as the weatherman predicted.  It pinks at the windows. From behind the clouds, the sun begins to sink below the horizon, taking the little light with it. The streetlights turn on.  The flames of the fireplace continue to flicker, casting everything in a moving orange glow.

“If we fall asleep now, we’ll ruin our sleeping schedule,” you murmur, already feeling the warm hands of sleep coaxing you away from the land of the awake.  “We’ll wake up at like four in the morning.”

Sunoo pulls you a tad closer, hands spread out, one splayed against your ribs and the other running soothing patterns over your back.  “Or,” he begins, eyes glittery in front of you with firelight, “we fall into a deep slumber and don’t awaken for thousands of years, but when we do, we'll be rulers of a magical land.”

You blink, eyes tired. You can’t help the smile on your lips. “Would you be the king?”

“Yeah, but I'd let you do whatever you want.”

A lazy laugh escapes your lips, and you move your arms from his neck to wrap them around his torso, to hold him close, face tucked into his chest. He's precious, you realize suddenly, and you feel as if he needs protecting.  You think back to when you first met, and he was a cute, bubbly, adorable hot mess trying to start a conversation with you.  His confidence clashed with his nerves about you. His cheeks had flushed red hot and he could hardly look you in the eye, but when he did, all you saw was genuine sincerity and child-like curiosity.  When he finally asked, "would you be my friend?" you couldn’t fathom how someone could possibly say no.  The next memory, the one where immediately after you said yes he jumped and giggled like you told him Santa was actually real and on his way right then.

“You're smiling, I can sense it,” Sunoo coos, drawing more circles onto your back with his fingertips.  “What’cha smiling at, honey bee?”

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed by how such a simple, faraway memory could make you feel so giddy and lightheaded.  It pairs with your feeling from earlier–how madly you love him–and you know your face is red. “It’s nothing.”

Sunoo pulls away slightly, a small smirk across his lips, mischief in his eyes.  “Nothing, hm?” he echoes.  He quirks his eyebrow up again.  “If nothing does this to you, I'd love to be nothing.  I’d be able to make you smile all the time.”

You can’t get your hands to cover your cheeks fast enough, so you bury your face in his hoodie, listening to the charm of his giggles as he laughs at your antics.  You pull him even closer, and you feel him do the same, enveloped in his warmth.  

Then, he whispers, soft and tender. “I love you,” he says, and you’re convinced your heart is about to burst. “You don’t have to say it back yet; I know it’s big, and—”

“I love you, too.” The joy in his eyes, growth of his smile, how his touch holds you that much more. It makes it all worth the nerves you felt building those worse, convincing yourself to say them before you took Sunoo up on his offer of not saying it back. You really lucked out with a boy named Kim Sunoo.

“Always?” he asks, a tone of seriousness. You know there’d been people before you; you know they weren’t always as kind or as protective with his heart. If they were, you wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t be in your arms pleading with you. “Promise?”

Kim Sunoo, you decide, deserves a soft, good love. Before you kiss him, you see snowflakes falling outside. You imagine the two of you, bundled up, running around and playing. You can see snowflakes landing on Sunoo’s lashes, imagine him laughing as he pulls you in for a kiss, hands on your waist. You can imagine helping give him everything he deserves.

“Promise,” you reply. You kiss him then, soft and delicate, ignoring your crazed heartbeat. When you pull back, you move your hands from his cheeks to the back of his head, carding through his locks before moving him to be tucked beneath your chin. Sunoo curls against you, a happy hum against your throat as you continue to stroke through his hair. “Always.”

[chapel-of-rizztual]

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time!❜

for Mountain/Swiss? 🥹

“nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time!”

Mountain just pouts harder at him. His bottom lip properly jutting out.

Swiss screws his eyes closed, slapping a hand over his eyes for extra protection, avoiding looking at where Mountain has currently taken over his small bunk on the tour bus. He’d only left for three minutes to pee and when he’d gotten back he’d found Mountain curled up on his nest of blankets.

Swiss braves peaking between his finger only to find Mountain still pouting at him.

“No! Absolutely not.”

Mountain whines.

“Mountain, baby, these bunks are hardly big enough to fit you alone, Never mind the both of us.”

Mountain tilts his head at him, whining once again.

“Please?” He pouts even more.

Swiss feels himself deflate. He’d always had a hard time saying no to Mountain, especially when the puppy dog eyes came into play.

“Okay, fine. move up, right against the wall.”

Mountain let’s out a happy thrill and rolls over so his back is facing Swiss and moves all the up so his nose is practically pressed up against the wall. He feels Swiss climb in behind, one arm coming to wrap around Mountains waist, the other under his head, burying his hand in his hair. His tail wags on its own accord, so hard it makes his whole body wiggle as it hits Swiss’ leg.

Swiss rubs and scratches at Mountains belly, making the earth ghoul purr loudly and he relaxes fully into Swiss’ embrace.

“This what you wanted, puppy? Just wanted some extra love?” Swiss runs his fingers through Mountains hair, scratches at his scalp.

Mountain chirps at him, pushing his head back into Swiss’ touch.

“Yeah? You got lonely on your own? Had to sneak into my bed, hmm?”

Mountain hums in acknowledgment, his leg kicking slightly as Swiss scratches over the good spot on his belly.

“How about we both go back to sleep, there’s still a few hours before we have to be awake, and in the morning you’ll get as much love as you want.” He pets at Mountains hair. “Maybe even Cumulus will give you sone belly rubs.”

Mountain thrills at the mention of Cumulus, he’s always had a soft spot for her.

“Yeah? I thought you’d like that.”

Mountains tail stills and wraps itself around Swiss’ leg as he sinks further into his arms, his eyes fluttering shut. It doesn’t take long before they’re both asleep, purring in between snores.

[davi-doo]

Durgetash - RP snippet #1

Pairing: M/M, The Dark Urge (default Dragonborn) x Enver Gortash

Rating: Mature

Summary: At one point in their relationship, the Bhaalspawn's father given urge was revealed to Gortash.

Author's note: This writing came from a rp I shared with my friend. Consequently, it has no continuous narrative, as we took turn to write each character in our style. Durge's parts were written by me, and Gortash's by @mcfallen-god.

The Dark Urge:

As warm blood soaked his hand, and the body on his lap grows cold by the second, Durge watches as the human quakes, choking on his last breath. The Bhaalspawn hears himself whispers his father name, sowing the fear for the Lord of Murder in his victim's fading consciousness. Binding his soul to Bhaal's realm.

The kill must bring instant gratification to his dark urge, as it hums in his father's content silence. But sometimes is wrong. He heard the clang as his holy blade hit the cold ground, as he must have dropped it. And through his blurry vision, he recognized the face of the one in his arms.

Enver Gortash. His souless dark eyes was still staring at him in utter horror.

***

The dragonborn wakes up in cold sweat. His blood red eyes dash across the room in a familiar panic, as he tries to take in as much of his surrounds as quickly as possible.

This is not...his father's temple, with its high celling, ever echoing scream of the tortured souls. It's a regular bedroom, with creamy wall and embroidered curtains. The pale blue light from the large window tells him they still have a few hours before sunrise.

The ordinary only managed to calm his anxiety for so long. Turning aside and throwing away the cover, the Bhaalspawn discovered his bedmate buried beneath the heavy blanket. Enver Gortash. His warm skin radiates heat, snoring softly in his blissful slumber. Holding down an emotional choke, Durge shoots up from the bed and rushes to find his belongings. He must leave and seek penance. Lest their union, no, their grand design ends in the Banite's blood.

Enver Gortash:

He is delightful whenever he is lucky enough to fill his bed with the presence of his one and only.

To feel his sleep watched over like this, it allows the grand Lord of Baldur's Gate to abandon himself to the deepest and most restful slumber.

However, Enver Gortash remains a man with a light sleep, and the little changes of weight on the bed, of warmth under the blankets or from the slightest, unnatural sound in his surroundings, he would wake up.

Thus, as Durge sits up and starts to move around the room, may he be as silent as Death itself, Gortash just feels it. Growling, twitching, he moves to the side where the dragonborn was laying when they fell asleep. As he has the confirmation he is now alone between the expensive sheets, he sits up and looks with fully awake eyes at the pale silhouette.

The white scales glowing mystically under the gaze of the moon. If he was less concerned by the reason making the other man move so fast, so quietly, and so in the middle of the night… Gortash would have just admired him for a bit longer.

"What are you doing? Didn't we pass the 'leave before you wake up' stage?" He asks, teasy, his voice husky with sleep and his hair kind of messed up.

As he feels how serious the situation was - he never saw this expression on the Bhaalspawn's features - Goratsh stands up with a frown.

"Durge.. what is it? What happened?"

The Dark Urge:

The dragonborn only stops on his track for a second when he heard his lover's voice. Still determined to ignore him, Durge quickly went back to throwing on his coat. But as the same voice called his name, his sense of urgency rapidly turns into anger.

How could this ever cunning Banite allow himself to be so careless? How could he allow things between them escalated into this tangled mess? How could Durge let his touch be the rewards for defying his father's principles?

"Enver! Do you want to die?! Without accomplishing anything?!" The dragonborn lashed out "If you don't, we must end whatever this is. Right now!"

The Bhaalspawn visibly trembles with effort and labored breath after saying his bit. But despite his forceful words, he can't find the heart to hold the other's eyes. So he crooked his head and turned away, hoping Gortash will take offend with his notoriously terrible temper.

Enver Gortash:

Something is definitely off and this all looks bad.

With a firm, but still calm and careful move, the human stands and steps until he can put a hand and grabs on the other's arm.

"Hey. What happened." He asks again, less a question than a command now. "Is that … Your god?"

Gortash is far from being stupid. He knows their respective gods may appear in their dreams or whisper their commands through the night. He is also far from being naive enough and thinks that: one, Bhaal is unaware of his 'son's' situation, and two, the god is most certainly disapproving it.

No, what Gortash doesn't understand is that sudden anger, that needs to flee. Durge is not the type to flee. There is nothing that would make him run away…

A mission? He would have just said so.

Why acting like he wants to have Gortash mad?

The human mind goes full speed from one thought to another, trying to figure out.

If Bhaal had ordered to kill Gortash… Durge would have said it. He would not have run like this…

It is something bigger, scarier.

"…. Talk to me." Gortash frowns, with seriousness.

The Dark Urge:

Durge closes his eyes and grits his teeth. The voice in his head is intimidatingly silent. He can only imagine his father's watching eyes, waiting for him to define his faith.

So the Banite wants to talk. Durge let out an annoyed snicker. With the facade of pragmatism, he knows how the kind of them are always hunger for new knowledge. They will steal, bribe and kill for a piece of useful information; they must exploit all the resources to establish their control. All to gain power over their subject. Even Durge knows their alliance and partnership is no exception for The Black Hand's doctrines.

Brushing of those fingers off his arm, the dragonborn turns back and face those seeking eyes at last. Should he choose to gain the Banite knowledge of his innate condition, he must be ready to slay him to the change of the wind. But perhaps, that will be the end of his agony.

"I am my father's flesh. His bloody hand carved me from his carcass. My body is his to act on. I can't die unless it's his will." the dragonborn speaks with hushed voice but no less solemnly, looking down at the smaller human with a clear intention to intimidate.

"What do you think drives us killer's blade? Hatred? Anger? Pleasure? " He steps closer with each stabbing words, "No, it's will from the Murder Lord himself. We praise it, honor it. But we have no say over it...Not without facing His wrath anyways."

Somewhere in his grim expression, or the tension across his towering frame, Gortash can sense a faint stroke of remorse. But it passes as quickly as a breath, and the Bhaalspawn speaks again before he can protest:

"If my father wants you dead." The dragonborn put his claw over the human's beating heart, "There's no stopping me from killing you. Not my reason, nor your binding oath."

Enver Gortash:

He doesn't resist and lets go of the arm, stepping a step backward to let the dragonborn turn and look at him.

He lets him speak with the greatest and most serious interest.

Though, his expression soon shows how he starts to understand what it is all about.

His frown goes deeper and something in his body just goes steadier.

"…" He feels he has no turn to speak as Durge stressed his lineage, but it feels itchy to the human.

However, he frowns deeper, giving to his eyes - already dark in the dim light - the impression of a deep, gleaming black color.

He won't step back. He won't back off in front of Bhaal - because yes, he considers the one talking is more the god than the spawn. Though, his mind still gets ready to jump and grabs the dagger he keeps by his bedside table. Just in case.

Though, the proximity with that body he knows already way too well feels too familiar and that hand on bis chest, supposedly a thread, it feels more like a plea, an apology, and a confession.

Gortash looks with a tilted head into those eyes and beyond, then he sighs. Holding the dragonborn's hand over his chest, he speaks as much to the Bhaalspawn as to the god himself.

"I can figure out your god might feel threatened by an ally as I am, but standing under the command of another patron. However.." He stares straight through Durge now. "Your god might know I am way more useful alive than dead. As I know no one is able to do as I am. You need my influence and my power, for your goal, aren't you?" It sounds like Gortash is speaking to Bhaal, in case the god does listen.

"If a little filth and pleasure frighten Him so much.." He slides his fingers between Durge's. "He might have little faith in his own spawn and choices."

He kisses the palm.

"If he insists on having me dead, he will bring prejudice to himself first, I am just saying."

The Dark Urge:

Durges stares at his lover in disbelief. He can sense no hesitation, no fear for one's own survival. And the worst of all, no disappointment nor distrust.

And when those lips tickle his palm, he feels like there's a boulder crushing on his heart. This damned affliction that ever compels him to scratch open his chest - it only grows stronger by the days. For the longer he allows himself to gaze upon this mortal. And the more often the mortal smiles back.

"You're a cat, dancing on a too narrow fence. One day you will fall, and won't land on your feet. My blade will dive in your gut in the end, and you will curse all the days you have laid too close to death."

The dragonborn whispers, and Gortash can feel, and see his muscles relax. The hand that rejected him now seeks his face, gently caressing the scar on his chin in anticipation of a kiss.

Enver Gortash:

Gortash slides his own palm up to Durge's chest with that smile he ever only gave the dragonborn.

"I was made to dance on narrow fence, darling." He chuckles cheekily, indulging in the touch on his face.

"And even if in the end it's your blade that dives into my guts, I'll never curse the days that brought me so close to this Dark Urge." His hand move up, mirroring the Bhaalspawn's one, cupping the scaly jaw. After another moment looking into those glowing red eyes, he pulls and moves on to kiss the dragonborn. His gesture is gentle, soft, his palm caressing down Durge’s chin; yet those fingers are still holding on that jaw; demanding, possessive.

"You and I," he growls to the thin lips. "We are made to do great things." Ambition and arousal are sparkling in his eyes. Power always puts this look on his face, and they both know how Durge is the only one Gortash allows to stand beside him, rather than crushed beneath his feet.

"Now, what would you think, using that Dark Urge for something as good as killing, but far less definitive?" He whispers.

His both hands trace circles on the scaly chest, sliding up to lock the dragonborn in an embrace; he leans closer, to whisper into the other’s ear. “I could even let you be on top of me for once…” He nuzzles on the softest part of Durge’s skin; under his jaw, kissing it, biting it.

(To be continued)

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

I’m obsessed with A Little Danger! Please please please write another part :)

A little danger - Series Masterlist

A/N - A quick memo as this part has a warning for violence as will a few other parts in the future.

Pairing: Sky of Eraklyon x mind!fairy

———— PART 8 ————

Waking up next to Sky with the sunlight casting its rays over the two felt like a dream. Inhaling deeply, her lips curve into a content smile, her eyes moving to her left hand laying over his chest. His heartbeat is slower than usual, relaxed for a change. Taking a quick glance at his face, she finds the worry lines have faded, the one between his eyebrows the only one visible – just barely.

How much stress is he under when his eyes are open for her to remember him more for his worry lines and quickened heart rate over the absolute peaceful, almost boyish features she’s gazing at now?

Did she contribute it?

Surely, she’s part of the problem, but no longer. She’s going to do all she can to make sure his worry lines are replaced by smile lines. For that to happen, she cannot base their relationship on a lie. From now on, when she accidentally uses her abilities on him, he will know. Lying about it will only further her fears and his uncertainty.

Noticing his heart rate pick up, she can’t help but smile. Pulling herself up on her elbow, her hair brushes his chest as her head blocks the sun from his face.

“Who turned off the sun?” He mumbles jokingly, his lips twitching as he tries to keep himself from smiling.

Running her fingertips across the right side of his face, Y/N grins. “Open your eyes and find out.”

“Mmmmm, I don’t think my eyes can function without a proper kiss.”

Snorting lightly, she bites her lower lip. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Well then”, she smirks as her nose brushes his. “Wouldn’t want your eyes to remain closed forever”, her lips press against his as his hand buries itself in her hair. With his free hand resting on her hip, Sky uses his weight to flip them over.

With Sky on top, Y/N smiles as his weight presses her into the mattress. She could get used to this human sized weighted blanket.

“Maybe if you pull her shirt off, the show would be more interesting.”

Sky breaks the kiss, his back stiffening under Y/N’s fingertips. “Sorry”, he whispers before looking at Riven who winks at him in response.

“What? You’re the one doing the dirty with your roommate in the room! Can’t blame me for enjoying the view!”

“I think Riven would like to learn a lesson or two on messing with a mind fairy”, Y/N raises her brows and Sky is quick to get off her.

Sitting on his knees, Sky gives her a pointed look. “I don’t think he’s the one you wanna lose control over.”

Scoffing, Riven stands up, putting his shirt on. “I mean, she could try, but we both know she can hardly make any threats. I haven't seen a fairy so incapable of being a fully functional being before meeting Y/N.”

Eyes turning purple, Y/N’s hand open wide, palm turned to Riven and in an instant he flies into the wall above his bed.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!”

Raising her hand she brings him closer to the ceiling.

“STOP HER!”

Sky glances at Y/N, searching for a clue that she’s just playing around but she’s not blinking, her lips are pressed in a thin line and her hand begins to close at the same time Riven grabs at his throat, gurgling.

Placing his hand over hers, Sky’s eyes widen as he realizes her focus isn’t quite so easy to break. “Y/N!” He calls for her, but she doesn’t budge.

Riven’s trashing around, helplessly hanging from the wall, choking.

Grabbing her face in his hands, Sky forces her eyes to shift to his terrified grimace. “Please stop.” His voice is calm, pleading. “You don’t want to hurt him. Not really. Please.”

The purple disperses in her eyes, blinking. Her hand opens, relaxing her previously rigid stance, releasing Riven from the chokehold she held him in. He falls, bouncing off the bed and onto the ground with a gasping groan, still holding his throat.

“Fucking psycho”, he grumbles as he picks himself up, sitting with his back against the bed. “I was teasing! Didn’t really warrant a murder attempt!”

Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Learn who you can tease. Sometimes words are a trigger and you never know who you’ll piss off.”

Sky stands, heading to Riven with an open hand. Riven slaps it away. “I can get up on my own.”

Pushing himself up to stand, Riven glances at Y/N before looking at Sky, pointing his index finger at his chest. “You keep her away from me.”

“I can make you forget this”, Y/N raises her brows innocently. “If that would make you feel better? But I worry the lesson would be lost to you then and I’d hate a repeat of this situation.”

“What the fuck, Y/N”, Sky exclaims, his mouth open in shock. He’s never quite expected her to turn so ruthless with a flip of an invisible switch.

Shaking his head slowly, Riven heads to the door with arms up in mock surrender. “You’re out of control.”

“So they say”, Y/N remarks. “I think I’m in just enough control to deal with assholes like you.”

Once Riven slams the door behind him, she lets out a heavy sigh. Hiding her face in her hands, she closes her eyes. She’s never quite had a good relationship with Riven since she got to Alfea. Their interactions always consisted of his attempts to trigger her destructive powers and he caused more than a few of her outbursts. For Riven, it was pure entertainment. For Y/N, those were times she lost trust in herself as quickly as the rest of the students decided she’s pure evil that cannot be controlled.

Riven is the reason why her name is synonymous to a horror show for most students and she still can’t forgive him for it. Maybe she’ll never be able to forgive or forget in his case.

She could feel the bed dip on Sky’s side, painfully aware of his disappointed gaze resting on her. How could she explain to him that Riven is a lit match lingering next to her short fuse? He’ll see it as an excuse, but didn’t she promise to be honest it him regardless of consequences now?

“I know you want an explanation, I just don’t think you’ll like it.”

“You lost control”, Sky begins but she shakes her head.

Looking him straight in the eye, she swallows thickly. “I’ve never been more in control.”

His eyes narrow, dropping to the bed sheets instead of her. “I don’t understand why you’d do that.”

“He bullied me”, she shrugs meekly. “He’s done it every chance he had simply to enjoy the chaos that happens when I lose control. I guess I just wanted him to feel what that chaos did to me.”

“You almost killed him”, Sky raises his voice ever so slightly.

“I didn’t”, she remarks. “I was in control.”

“And what if you lost control?” Sky’s eyes find her once more. “Huh? If you lost control for a split second?”

Pursing her lips, she turns her back on Sky as she gets up. “I didn’t.”

“But what if you did?!”

“BUT I DIDN’T!” She shouts and Sky’s jaw clenches. “I know it was risky, I’m more than aware! I know you don’t understand where I’m coming from, but I saw the smug look on his face as he began taunting me and that was nothing! You’ve never heard or seen what he did before to make me act this way and you’re defending him on a basis of a weak what if?”

Sky speaks through gritted teeth. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.”

“No”, she smiles meekly. “You don’t want me to do something that will make you regret me later.”

“That’s not true”, Sky insists. “Nothing could make me regret this”, he places his hands on her shoulders, spinning her to properly face him. Cupping her cheek, Sky’s worry lines soften. “If you hurt him today, you’d hate yourself for it. Even if it's just Riven.”

“I don’t think I would.” Sensing his worry spike despite his face remaining calm hurt her. “Does it worry you I wouldn’t?” Sighing, she gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She promised herself to be honest. She promised and she cannot go back on that promise anymore. “I can sense it. I don’t want to and I sure as hell don’t enjoy sensing your emotions right now, but I can feel you’re worried and if I had to guess, you’re wondering just how powerful is the darkness you saw today.”

“I am”, Sky admits. “Because that version of you, purposefully malicious? It’s new to me.”

“Told you I’m not an angel, Sky”, she pulls away and this time he doesn’t stop her. “I have darkness in me. A lot of it. Sometimes it will win and if you can’t handle that”, she pauses, aware that she’s about to offer him an exit once again, but she has to. He’s too pure compared to her. “Maybe the moments we shared so far were meant to be just that…moments.”

“Bullshit”, Sky all but growls. “You will not use this as an excuse to push me away.”

“I am not pushing you away!” Y/N’s voice breaks and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’ve done all I can to hold onto you and the person you want me to be, but I’m more than the girl you grew up with!”

“I’m well aware”, Sky runs a hand through his hair. No matter what he says, he can’t promise her he’s okay with what he saw her do. He loves her, but she scares the living shit out of him at times and he can’t explain it, but his heart tells him to stay. Being away from her doesn’t work, for either of them. He tried for a while, he really did and it made him miserable and her powers only got worse over time.

“I should go”, Y/N sniffles. “I have to get ready for the stupid banquet.”

“I’m your date”, Sky reminds her.

“Are you?” She raises her brows, “you can still walk away.”

“Stop offering me a way out, it really pisses me off.”

Rolling her eyes, she purses her lips. “Your’re masochist.”

“No”, Sky smiles. “Just really in love with one.”

“You’re in love with me?” She asks sheepishly, slowly coming closer to Sky.

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

Smirking, she nods. “You seem very displeased with the fact.”

“Sometimes”, he admits. “Just a normal part of love, I guess.”

“Yeah?” She wraps her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes. “Well, I guess I’m in love with you too”, she tells him lightheartedly.

“You guess?” He raises his brows in amusement. “Only guess?”

“Yup!”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I’ll take that.”

Pecking his lips, she grins. “And I’ll take you as my date too.”

“You will”, Sky kisses her back. “What will you wear?”

“That’s a surprise”, she quips.

“But we’re supposed to coordinate. How am I to know what to wear?”

“I’m not Stella or Bloom. You can wear whatever you like.”

Eyes wide, Sky gulps. “Are you sure?”

“Your head will not roll if you show up in a different color scheme than me.”

“Promise?”

“Umm”, she takes a step back. “You’re a bit traumatized by them, aren’t you?”

“A bit”,

Y/N shakes her head. “Wear whatever you want, Sky. You’ll be handsome in anything.”

“What if I come naked?�� He wiggles his brows.

A light blush adorns her cheeks as she picks up her bag, “Even better as far as I’m concerned!” Putting her clothes inside, she gives him a quick once over. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”

Sky chortles, his eyes glimmering as she winks at him. “You’re a flirt.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes”, she licks her lips before elaborating. “In a non-murderous way.”

“Ah, of course”, he frowns at the bag, “I wish you’d stay.”

“We’ll see each other soon enough”, she reminds him. “I’ll take a bath, get ready and be waiting for you to pick me up around five.”

“That’s almost seven hours from now”, Sky deadpans.

“Only seven?! I gotta run”, she exclaims before rushing to the door only to have Sky running after her.

Planting his hand firmly against the door, Sky ensures she’d have to stop and look back at him. The moment she does, his lips are on hers, plucking away any sanity she clings to.

“I have to go”, she whispers against his lips.

“So you keep saying, but you’re not moving.”

“You’re blocking the way”, she argues.

“We both know you could have moved me out of it if you wanted to”, he counters with a self-assured grin. “So what’s stopping you?”

Furrowing her brows, she inhales sharply. “Kissing you feels better than I expected.”

“Yeah?”

“Ugh, stop teasing me!” Pushing against his chest, she opens the door as he shrieks of laughter. Shaking her head, she takes a few steps away from the door before turning on her heel. With a quick touch of her lips upon his, the laughter dies.

Forcing herself to part with Sky, she exhales loudly before running away from a shell-shocked Sky for in a blink of an eye Y/N was gone, but her kiss lingered for the rest of the day and he was certain she used her magic to make it so.

Part 9

[kumeko]

A/N: For @gcsfanzine ! I love the antics these three get into, with Selina forced into the responsible role because she’s the only one of the three with some conscience.

…

…

…

…

Ivy was sick. Selina took a moment to contemplate the thought, to fully savour the situation she found herself in. Poison Ivy, Pamela Isley, one-woman army and stone-cold bitch, was sick. Sick enough to need help, to ask for help.

And the well-known misanthrope needed Selina’s help.

It was hard enough to think about, let alone believe. Yet, Selina couldn’t doubt the evidence in front of her. Sprawled across Harley’s plush, king-sized mattress, an extremely grumpy Ivy glared at the ceiling. Her fingers tapped the blankets ceaselessly, her jaw clenched so hard Selina could have broken walnuts against it. She looked like a cantankerous alley cat. She also looked entirely out of place buried amongst Harley’s infinite plushies.

How Harley had managed to force Ivy into her bedroom, Selina had no idea. The whole place looked like the residence of a punk princess, a strange hybrid of cute frills and black leather. Neither of the two vibes fit Ivy and put together they just looked even more garish.

“Ahh.” Ivy breathed out harshly before forcing herself up into a seated position. Her red hair clung to her sticky skin, giving her an oddly deflated appearance. There was a reddish tint to her green skin. All in all, she looked like a sick person. A very cranky sick person. “I’m leaving.”

Selina snorted inelegantly. There was the Ivy she knew and tolerated. From across the room, she gestured at the foot of the bed and raised a brow. “How? You broke your leg. And you have a fever.”

Ivy fisted her hand and hit the mattress. A shark plushie fell off the bed. “The fucking hyenas broke it.” Her hair had a life of its own and rose, giving her a lion-like mane. Maybe it sensed its mistress’s rage. “I’ll kill them.”

“You’d be doing me a favour.” Selina wrinkled her nose as she thought of those mangy mutts. The number of times she’d almost lost a cat to them—she should have kicked them out months ago.

“Hey!” Harley growled as she entered the room holding a tray laden with food. She was dressed as a sexy nurse, though that didn’t make her glare any less intimidating as she stomped her foot. “Stop being mean to my babies!”

Selina rubbed her forehead. By now, she should be used to Harley’s level of chaos and nonsense, but somehow the woman continued to surprise her. At least the soup looked decent. “Did you really need the outfit?”

Holding the tray in one hand, Harley arched her back and jutted her hip as she mimicked a pin up poster. “Of course! It’s part of the care package!” She blew a kiss to Ivy. “Don’t you just love it?”

Not caring a wit about the fanservice, Ivy’s expression grew colder than the tundra. “Pick one of them to die or they all will.”

“Neither!” Harley carefully set the soup down on her side table before turning to Ivy. She bent forward and poked her sick friend on the cheek. “I’ll take good care of you in exchange.”

“You’d have to do that anyways!” Ivy swatted her hand away, her scowl only increasing in intensity. “This happened because of you.”

“She has a point, you know.” Selina crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, more than content to just watch the show instead of participating. “We had a deal. Your hyenas are supposed to stay in the basement.”

“They do!” Harley pouted, puffing her cheeks as she glanced up at Selina. “I was only taking them out for a walkie.”

If Harley intended for that to be reassuring, it was the exact opposite. Selina groaned and closed her eyes. There were enough eyes on their shared residence without the hyenas as is. “Oh, so I should expect more missing pet flyers? These things are a nuisance.”

“They’re not things, they’re family.” Between the pig-tails and the pout, Harley was akin to a sulking toddler. Sometimes Selina couldn’t believe that she had a degree and keen intuition. “They just get hungry sometimes but they know better than to mess with you. Or your cats.”

“Oh, and is that why they tackled me?” Ivy asked, her smile as sharp as a razor blade at the slight. “Food? They think I’m weak?”

“They just bumped into you! It’s not their fault you were holding poison. And it didn’t just splash on you, it hit them!” Harley huffed, crossing her arms. She turned up her nose. “Maybe you should be more careful.”

Ivy’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Are you blaming me?”

Selina could practically feel the vines crawling through the pipes and concrete. She groaned. “Don’t break the place, I just finished paying for it.”

“My plants are hungry.” Ivy pushed her hair out of her face, steeling herself as she tried to get up. “Maybe I should give them a snack.”

Harley grabbed her shoulders and firmly pushed her down. “You’re still sick and stop saying that!”

At this rate, Selina was going to get a headache. Or become homeless. It was time to step in. Slowly, she approached the struggling pair. “Harley.” She rested her hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Just enough that the threat was there. “Next time, the hyenas are gone.”

Harley glanced at her, then looked away. “Fineeee.”

“Great.” Selina turned to Ivy and tried not to smirk. Maybe she should take a picture later, for blackmail. “It’s too late to go back to your room, just live with it.”

Ivy’s frown deepened, as though she heard Selina’s thoughts. “I—” she protested.

Harley cut her off. “If you want to leave, I have to feed you.”

“Huh?” Flabbergasted, Ivy stared at her.

Harley picked up a spoon. She smiled deviously. “Should I pretend this is a train? Or maybe a bee coming to pollinate?”

“…fuck you.” Ivy snatched the spoon.

“Great, we have a deal! I’ll go get a cooling pack.” Harley sprang to her feet. Blowing another kiss, she spun on her heel and skipped out of the room. “Just you wait, I have great patient care.”

“Fifty bucks says she kills you,” Selina said the second Harley disappeared.

“It’s not a bet if we’re both on the same side.” Ivy tucked her hair behind her ear and took a careful sip of the soup. “Huh, not bad.”

“So she really can cook.” Selina shook her head. Was it something Harley had picked up after she’d changed, or was it something a lonely psychiatrist had learned after pulling long shifts? “It’s not poisoned?”

“Probably not.” Ivy took another spoonful. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, as though absorbing information on it. Maybe she could; Selina never fully understood her meta abilities with plants and their poisons. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe I should bet she’ll actually heal you.” Selina reached forward, pressing a hand to Ivy’s neck. “Your fever doesn’t seem that high and if you can talk and eat like that, I guess that other poison didn’t actually hurt you that much.”

Ivy stiffened under her touch and Selina recoiled. They stared at each other for a long moment before Selina looked away. “Force of habit,” she muttered in lieu of an apology.

“Habit?” Ivy lightly touched her neck.

“That…it’s an old memory.” Selina clenched her hand. A very old memory. It had been years since she’d let herself think of her childhood on the streets, even longer since she let herself think of Maggie and Holly and how they used to be.

Ivy studied her before changing the topic. It was oddly tactful of her. “The poison was just a paralysis.”

“But you can move?”

“Barely.” Ivy flopped back on the bed, her hair spreading around her. “I doubt I could actually make it back to my room.”

“And here you were trying to act so strong.” Selina snickered. Maybe she should have let Ivy try, if only to see her flop off the bed and stumble down the hall. “I’ll get you a Tylenol.”

Ivy scowled. “I don’t need any medicine. It’s not like they work on me anyways.”

“That’s why you don’t turn your blood into a pharmacy cocktail,” Selina muttered, rolling her eyes. “Then I’ll just grab one for myself. If I have to keep dealing with your weird foreplay, I’ll need it.”

As she left, she dodged the plush piranha Ivy hurled. “You really are doing better,” Selina teased before disappearing down the hall.

In the distance, she could hear several small thuds as Harley got her care supplies. Clearly, she was going after more than just a cooling pack, and Selina was both scared and curious to find out what it was. Either way, she’d have to especially make sure she didn’t get sick after this. With Ivy’s vindictive personality, Selina would suffer two-fold in Harley’s hands.

A soft nudge shook her out of her stupor. Selina peeked down to find Alexander, a calico tom, brushing against her as she walked. She chuckled, reaching down to give him a good head rub before entering her bedroom.

Perhaps it was because she had worn a costume for years now, whether it was for good or evil, but Selina had a well-stocked medicine cabinet that could rival a drug store. Amidst ordinary painkillers and bandages, there were black market drugs to cover any niche injury. Selina’s finger brushed against each bottle as she checked for more over-the-counter solution.

The first one on the second row froze her.

With shaky fingers, she pulled it out and stared at it. A baby’s cough medicine. Grape flavoured. Only a third of it used. The bottle was brown.

Selina should have tossed it long ago. She should toss it now.

She wasn’t quite ready to let go of that dream, of her daughter returning home.

Pressing her forehead against the cabinet, Selina sighed. Ivy wasn’t the only one vulnerable tonight, it seemed. This wasn’t the time or place for these thoughts. They certainly weren’t the right people to have these thoughts around. Even now, Harley and Ivy still tried to pry into her relationship with Gotham’s protectors, hoping to extract the valuable secret identities she carefully guarded.

Who knew what they’d do if they found out about her daughter or her sister or any of the people Selina had stepped on to get to where she was now?

“This is stupid,” Selina muttered to herself as she returned to Harley’s room. She’d just make sure Ivy was alive, that Harley wasn’t up to no good, and then she’d retire for the day. It had been a trying couple of hours. She’d earned a rest.

“Are you seriously staying all night?” Ivy snarled.

A rest she was definitely not going to get. Selina braced herself as she entered Harley’s room. As expected, Ivy was still lying on the bed, though now with a neon blue ice-pack on her forehead. Her hands kept reaching it, trying to tear it off, but Harley kept swatting them back down.

Harley sniffed. “I have to, you’re too stubborn to heal up otherwise.”

The surprise was Harley. As usual. Perched on the bed right next to Ivy, she wrapped an arm around Ivy’s shoulders to hold her in place. The bowl of soup next to her was half-finished, so Selina didn’t have to worry if Ivy would starve tonight. On Ivy’s knees, a laptop perched precariously.

Noticing her return, Harley waved. “You’re back!”

“I thought I should keep the house in one piece,” Selina drawled, glancing at Ivy. “Ivy too, I guess.”

“Like you’d last ten minutes with just her,” Ivy scoffed, not buying the bluff.

“We’re watching a movie,” Harley interrupted, grinning. “Wanna join?”

“I…” Selina pursed her lips, her excuse on the tip of her tongue.

“Please?” Harley begged, batting her eyes. “With a cherry on top.”

“If you leave me alone with her, I’ll kill you.” Ivy crossed her arms as she leaned back, accepting her fate. “Sit on the bed but don’t get too comfortable. The second it’s done, you’re both out.”

“Comfortable?” Selina laughed, slipping into the empty space. “Like a cactus like you would let me.”

She didn’t need the reminder. She already knew better. The moment Selina got comfortable with them, the moment she spilled her secrets, these quiet moments would come to an end.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

[metaphorical-goblin]

Narumitsu + Coffee

He set the cup down, styrofoam and squeaky, all too hard on the already-stained coffee table. Edgeworth twitched again, tightening his fingers around the case file until his knuckles whitened.

His hair, frayed and frazzled. Eyes sunken, and yet, in the same beat, wild and panicked.

His tongue darted out to wet his cracked lips as Phoenix’s gaze caught his own, and Miles wriggled out of the stare just as quickly, casting his eyes aside to the ring on the table, carefully carved by a sweating glass weeks prior.

“You should get some sleep,” the defense attorney finally announced. It almost hurt to break the silence, this tenderly crafted thing they had been skating around all evening.

And yet. A sling, an arrow, sending the wall crashing down. A tension of Oobleck, that ruddy cornstarch-water blend they made back in third grade that was a living contradiction in itself.

Too much tension, a quick and decisive attack, and the concoction would thicken up, absorb the blow like rubber. But gentle pressure, soft, blanketing pressure…

“You can take my bed,” he added, already lifting his recently-abandoned coffee cup to his lips and taking a swig of the lukewarm liquid. “I’ll probably just… sleep on the couch tonight.”

Miles’ eyes shifted again. “I… can’t. Not yet. We haven’t even figured out who the real criminal is, yet.”

His sword hit the metaphorical wall, and Phoenix slumped down into the couch once again, case file in one hand and coffee cup in the other. His headache made its presence known once again with the motion. He bit down the urge to hiss through the pain. Miles crossed and uncrossed his legs thrice over in the silence before finally settling, bringing his own file closer with an angry squint.

“You ever think about getting glasses?”

“You’re changing the subject,” the prosecutor retorted.

“And you’re still reviewing files.”

He buried his nose into his own papers, if only to avoid Miles’ stern gaze, already feeling it bore into his side as he took another drag from his cup.

“I really wish you wouldn’t drink coffee this late.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s only… what, 10:30? I’ve got a lot to review, you know that. I don’t have—“

“It’s two.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“Two. Well, two-thirteen. Technically.”

Bleary-eyed, the man tore his focus away from his file and directed it to the clock that was shaped like a sunrise on his wall.

Miles was right.

Probably.

Phoenix couldn’t see clearly enough to confirm, anyway.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“We have court in… eight hours.”

The prosecutor nodded.

Phoenix drained another cup (how many was that? He had lost count) and slapped his knees. “So at least three more hours of work before i really have to go to bed.”

Miles twitched, again. Slid his file to the table. “Wright—“

“But you should probably go ahead and go. Beauty rest, and all that.”

A breath passed between them as the clock ticked, ticked, ticked away.

“It’s… late,” Miles finally murmured. Something about the evening required a reverence of this variety, he believed.

Phoenix swallowed and refused to meet those eyes that threatened to fold him in half and tuck him away in his breast pocket, close to his beating heart that would surely lull him to sleep within a moment.

“I have a lot of work to do, Miles,” he whispered.

His hand hesitated, hovering just on the outskirts of cloth and skin and bone (and perhaps something deeper, something they could have shared in another universe). Miles quickly withdrew, almost afraid of burning himself.

Another beat. Another shot through Phoenix’s aching skull. Another refill on his coffee should be in order.

And just one more review of this evidence.

It had to be good evidence.

It had to be good evidence.

And then, fire and ice all at once, kissing against his wrist like manacles of silk, was Miles’ hand, real this time.

“Phoenix, you…”

He didn’t have the words, naturally. They were hard to find in this sanctuary of almost-silence.

But perhaps that gripped harder than words would have, his fingers lightly curled around his pulse point and his eyes that refused to break him down, still staring intently at the file clutched tight in his hand.

That awed silence.

Phoenix let it envelope him as he fell back against the couch, Miles’ grip never faltering. His thumb moved in tight circles against his skin, rubbing over freckles and old scars.

He hummed, a deep and punched sound, gesturing to his lap, the pillow he had just placed there.

The most tempting siren Phoenix had ever heard of. His head sunk down into that pillow like a stone thrown into the ocean, and Miles’ fingers curled up into the ripple of waves of his hair, spiked and drooping and dulled.

He kept circling, tracing those feather-light touches all across his scalp, humming a short note every other tick of that never-stopping analog.

Phoenix hadn’t reviewed all the evidence yet. He didn’t know where it all came from. He didn’t know if it was reputable.

(But he had. Thrice over, already. And had it approved by detectives and prosecutors alike.)

(And yet.)

Caffeine and terror clenched his heart, and his fists clenched in time as he dry-swallowed a sob.

Miles didn’t need to know.

If the prosecutor felt him jolt, he at least had the decency not to say anything. Instead, he leaned down, grazing his temple with a kiss, and brought up his other hand to thumb over a dampened cheek, massage an earlobe between thumb and forefinger.

Phoenix steadied his breathing in time with Miles’ careful touches, his broken half-song dragging him deeper and deeper into a hypnotic slumber.

Murmurs of love and pride met his ear (and perhaps they left Phoenix’s lips, as well. He couldn’t be certain, at the moment), and the defense attorney’s eyes slid shut.

(Definitely looking for more prompts like this. I’d like to practice writing more imagery and a little less reliance on dialogue, and these shorter pieces are a great start for that!)