#just plays with his belts instead and worries his lip . he's in so deep dude

[quirkle2]

I just learned that some ferrets do a thing called dead sleeping where they don't respond to stimuli because they're so deeply asleep. You can pick them up and pinch their feet and they just don't do anything.

Not going to lie, first thought I had was Warriors dead sleeping and Legend just panicking until he realized that Warriors was still breathing.

I READ ABOUT THAT and the First thought that popped into my head was "ohmy god that'd be terrifying to experience . [thinks abt ferret wars]"

legend would gently poke at him, tryin to tell him to stop sleeping on his hat, and wars would not move or stir no matter how much he riled him,, his heart would kinda skyrocket—yaknow that rush of anxiety u get when ur pet is sleeping Eerily Still—and he'd poke and prod at him more,, nothing. outwardly he's only vaguely concerned at first (inwardly he's having a heart attack) but then i think it shows through to the others pretty clearly when he picks wars up and finds him completely still

even though he's breathing and seemingly peaceful legend is still worried out of his mind ?? it's odd that he's just simply Not Waking Up. that isn't Normal, typically. it worries him that smth is wrong or maybe he's sick

legend is visibly freaked out and he doesn't stray too far from wars for his entire nap . actually lays him down in extra blankets and puts his hat back w wars where it was before,,,,,,,,, wants him to be comfy :)

[waitimcomingtoo]

Trial Failure

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader enemies to lovers!

Read the series or on its own

Masterlist

You were sitting in your car a few months later, sending Peter a text telling him to be safe on patrol. Before you could get out of you car, you heard a knock at your window. You jumped and looked up to see Spiderman standing outside your car with his hands on his hips.

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.” Peter said as he rested his hands on an invisible belt.

“What did I do, officer?” You played along.

“It says here that you don’t have a permit for being that pretty.” Peter replied.

“Aw.” You chuckled a little. “You’re such a loser.”

“Shut up.” He laughed. “It’s dark already. Let me walk you home.”

“In the suit?” You asked as you got out of the car. “I feel so fancy.”

“Only the best for my lady.” He said as he took your hand. “It’s so creepy in here. I wish your parking lot wasn’t so far from the actual building.”

“Me either.” You shrugged. “But at least I have a parking lot. May still has to park on the street. She and I complain about it a lot when you’re not around.”

“Well I would also have my license if I wasn’t so busy, you know, saving New York or whatever.” Peter shrugged.

“Shut up.” You laughed as you leaned into him. You slipped your hand into his gloved one and fell into a comfortable silence.

When you passed by the bodega near your apartment, you caught the attention of a man sleeping outside.

“Hey.” He chuckled and pointed at Peter. “You’re that spider guy.”

“You can call me Spiderman.” Peter said kindly.

“Okay Spiderman. And who’s this?” His attention shifted to you. “Spider-Man has a girlfriend?”

“No.” Peter said quickly and dropped your hand. “We just met. I’m just doing my duty and walking her home.”

The man didn’t take his eyes off of you, which made you step closer to Peter.

“Yeah?” The man asked. “And where’s that?”

“Nowhere.” You answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“All right.” The man narrowed his eyes at you. “I hope I’ll be seeing you again, beautiful.”

“You won’t.” Peter said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Have a nice night, sir.”

Peter put his hand on your back and quickly lead you away. He stayed silent until you got to your apartment building, the tension between you palpable.

“I shouldn’t come in.” Peter said. “Not while I’m in the suit. People shouldn’t see Spiderman going into your apartment.”

“No ones around.” You chuckled to break the tension. “I think it’s fine.”

“I can’t.” Peter shook his head. “Your neighbor could see me or the cameras could pick me up or-“

“Hey.” You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to come up. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter sighed sadly, hating to have to leave you without a kiss goodnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Peter had swung away, you blew him a kiss when you knew no one could see. You went inside and didn’t give the night another thought. Elsewhere, Peter was torn up over what had happened. The way the man had been looking at you was shaking him up. He let it go for the time being, but it stayed with him in the back of his mind.

~

The next night, you were making the ten minute walk from your apartment to Peter’s. You put your keys between your fingers and kept your head straight as you walked. When you passed the bodega near your apartment, the man from the night before noticed you.

“Hey, aren’t you Spider-Man’s girlfriend?” He asked with a wicked grin. You ignored him and kept walking, picking up your pace as he followed.

“You are, aren’t you?” He continued when you didn’t respond.

“No.” You said flatly.

“Yes you are.” He cooed. “You’re pretty.”

You ignored him and sharply turned a corner, but he followed.

“Hey!” He called after you. “Don’t I get a thank you?”

“No.” You called back. “You don’t.”

“You know.” He seized your arm suddenly, making you stop. “I don’t like Spiderman that much. He webbed up my buddy and got him sent to jail.”

“Aw. Poor you.” You said as you pulled yourself out of his grip.

“No, pretty girl.” He shook his head. “Poor you.”

You watched his hand disappear into his pocket and soon heard the click of switch blade.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you backed away from him.

“He took my buddy from me. I wanna take something from him.” The man growled as he held the knife up to your throat. Your back hit the wall as you craned your neck away from his blade. You could feel the sharp blade against your throat and felt a cold panic run down your spine.

“Wait, please.” You gulped as your hand went into your pocket. “Don’t hurt me. I have a baby sister at home. She needs me.”

“Aw.” He said sarcastically. “Do you?”

“I do.” You nodded and pulled something out of your pocket. “She needs me to take care of her. I’ll show you.”

Instead of pulling out a picture, you pulled out your pepper spray and sprayed it in his eyes. He backed away screaming and you took this opportunity to punch him in the throat. He doubled over in pain, so you swiftly kicked him in the stomach and took off. You didn’t stop running until you reached Peter’s apartment, never once looking back. Once you were in his room, Peter caught sight of your messy hair and the tiny red line on your neck and immediately panicked.

“Woah, are you okay?” He cupped your face so you’d look at him. “What happened to you?”

“I’m fine.” You huffed and dropped your bag. “It was that stupid guy from last night.”

“What guy?” Peter asked as he fumbled through his desk for a bandaid.

“The one we passed by the bodega. I saw him again.” You explained as Peter’s shaking hand out a bandaid in your neck.

“What happened?” Peter asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I had my pepper spray on me.” You told him.

“Did he try to hurt you?”

“I mean, I guess.” You shrugged. “I think he just liked that I was your girlfriend. Apparently he’s not much of a Spiderman fan.”

Peter withdrew his hands from you when he heard this as if he was scared to hurt you further.

“He attacked you because of me?” He asked quietly.

“No. He tried to attack me because of you. Pepper spray, remember?” You cracked a smile, but Peter didn’t return it.

“Peter, I handled it. It’s fine.” You put your hands on his face when you noticed how scared he looked.

“He…he shouldn’t have done that.” Peter stammered. “You didn’t do anything. He had no reason to go after you.”

He pulled away from you again and ran his fingers through his hair. He was deeply distraught over this, even though you were okay. You reached out for Peter again but he swatted your hand away.

“Peter, it’s okay.” You said quietly. “I’m okay. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing compared to what could have happened.” He corrected you.

“Look, I was really scared back there. I understand if you’re scared too, but I’m on your side here.” You said softly. “You can’t pull away from me right now. I need you. I need my boyfriend to tell me it’s okay.”

Peter’s face softened when you showed a rare sign of vulnerability. He slowly opened his arms to you and you stepped into them. Peter wrapped his arms around your body and rubbed your back and you took a deep inhale.

“I love you.” He said before kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I got you, princess.”

“I love you too.” You mumbled against his chest.

Peter looked up at the ceiling to keep tears from falling down his face as he held you. He let out a deep sigh as he rubbed your back, silently thinking about the effect this would have on his future.

Especially his future with you.

~

“Some guy attacked Y/n because he saw her with Spider-man the night before.” Peter said as he set his lunch down. Ned stopped eating and let his jaw drop.

“Are you serious?” He said with a full mouth.

“Yeah. I put one of his friends in jail so he went after her. She had nothing to do with it but he still targeted her. Because of me, Ned. It’s my fault he went after her.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face.

“Dude, it’s not your fault.” Ned said. “You didn’t know he was gonna do that.”

“But now I do.” Peter stated. “And it’s only gonna get worse from here. I mean, you’ve seen the guys that have gone after Mr. Stark and Pepper. What if some guy tries to hurt Y/n to get to me? Someone a lot worse then some hobo with a switchblade.”

“You don’t know that will happen.”

“But I know that it could if I continue to date her.” Peter sighed again. Ned furrowed his eyebrows when he heard this, jumping to the conclusions of what that could mean.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything else I can do.” Peter said quietly. “I think I have to break up with her.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ned leaned forward to ask.

“How else am I supposed to keep her safe?” Peter’s bottom lip began to tremble. “As long as she’s my girlfriend, she has a target on her back. I can’t knowingly put her in danger like that.”

“But, Peter. You love her. And she loves you. You can’t just end it.” Ned countered.

“I have to end it because I love her.” Peter explained. “I have to love her enough to put her safety over my happiness.”

“She’s gonna hate you.” Ned shook his head. “You know her.”

“Maybe not. Maybe she’ll understand.” Peter said hopefully.

“I don’t know, man.” Ned sighed. “I think you found something really good here. I don’t think you should mess it up.”

“But if she got hurt because of me...” Peter trailed off. “I’d never forgive myself. I can’t risk it.”

“I’ll support you either way.” Ned said. “But only if you stay with her.”

“That’s not really supporting me either way.”

“Yeah. Because I think your way is really dumb.” Ned deadpanned.

“It’s not dumb. She could’ve been killed.” Peter protested.

“Do you honestly think she’ll let you break up with her over this?” Ned asked. “Shes gonna tell you that you’re ridiculous and she can protect herself.”

“Then I won’t tell her my reasoning.” Peter decided. “I love her but she’s stubborn as hell. Especially with me. If that reason isn’t good enough for her then she won’t get a reason at all.”

“Peter, that’s even worse.” Ned whined. “There’s no coming back from that. You know how much she values communication. That will crush her.”

“I’d rather her have a broken heart then be killed.” Peter said simply. “She’ll hate me for a while, sure, but at least she’ll be safe.”

“I don’t know about this.” Ned frowned. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Before Peter could answer, you sat down at the lunch table with a smile. Peter gave Ned a look that told him to cease all conversation of the breakup, which made Ned look away.

“Hey guys.” You smiled. “What’s going on over here? You both look so sad. Did you break up or something?”

Peter and Ned froze at your joke, giving each other a knowing look. You looked between the two of them and noticed the icy tension.

“Woah.” You laughed awkwardly. “I was kidding. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine.” Peter lied as he kept his eyes on Ned. Ned stayed silent, knowing he couldn’t lie to you.

“Okay.” You said skeptically. “Are we still gonna hang out after school, Petey?”

“Yeah.” Peter gave you a tight smile. “We can talk after school.”

Ned let out a sad laugh before looking at Peter. He silently picked up his backpack and left the table, not wanting to be a part of Peter breaking your heart.

“What was that all about?” You asked once Ned left.

“I don’t know.” Peter said without looking at you. The guilt was already eating away at him and he hadn’t even broken up with you yet. You changed the subject and started to talk about something else, but Peter barely heard. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing he was acting like everything was fine when he had every intention of breaking up with you. When the bell rang, Peter snapped out of it and looked at you longingly. You gave him a small smile, having no idea what was coming. It broke Peter’s heart to know this was the last time you’d be happy while looking at him. Peter leaned in to kiss you, letting it linger much longer than usual. He figured it would be your last kiss, and he wanted to make it last. When he pulled away, you had confusion in your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked. “That felt like a goodbye kiss.”

“I’m okay.” Peter nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

Peter avoided you the best he could for the rest of the day. Once the last bell rang, he bolted out of school with stopping at his locker. He had felt sick all day because of his decision. He was so wrapped up in his guilt, he didn’t even hear you knock at his door.

“Hey, Petey.” You smiled as you shut his bedroom door behind you. “I looked for you at the lockers but you weren’t there. Did you run home or something?”

Peter jumped when he heard your voice and whipped around, all the color draining from his face.

“Um. Yeah.” He stammered. “I did.”

You were quick to notice his off behavior and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you approached him. Peter took a single step back from you, so you didn’t move any closer.

“Um…I have to talk to you about something.” Peter said quietly as he stared at your feet.

“Okay.” You folded your arms. “Is everything okay?”

“I think…” Peter gulped and shut his eyes. “I think we should break up.”

“What?” You chuckled as you raised your eyebrow.

“I don’t think a relationship is right for me right now.” Peter lied, finally looking up at you. “I think I need to be on my own.”

“That’s not funny, Peter.” Your smile fell as glared at him.

“I’m being serious.” He said weakly. “I don’t want us to be together anymore.”

“Why?” You asked as your eyes glassed over. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I was into it, and now I’m not. So I want to break up.”

“That’s all I get? “I don’t know?” We spend six months in love but all the sudden, you don’t know?” You asked as a tear fell from your eyes. Peter had to look away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to continue if he saw you cry.

“Look, I just changed my mind okay? It’s nothing personal.” He said as he looked at the ceiling.

“Really? Because it feels a little personal.”

“We can still be friends.” He offered. “We said we’d give this a try, and we did. It just didn’t work out.”

“So the trip to the graveyard, you telling me your secret, bringing me to meet your team, all the kisses in your bedroom and the sex in mine, was all of that it not working out for you?” You asked him.

“No.” He swore. “That’s not...this isn’t about that.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” You raised your voice. “Did you just use me for sex? Is that all this was? Some twisted way to get into my pants?”

“No.” Peter shook his head rapidly. “I loved you, I just-“

“Loved?” You cut him off and laughed sadly. Peter watched as you wiped the tears from your face with a broken heart.

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “I wish I had something better to tell you. But my mind is made up. We can’t be together.”

“What did I do?” You whispered through your tears.

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything.” Peter promised as he took a step towards you, needing to hold you. This time, you were the one who backed away.

“Then why don’t you want me?” Your voice trembled as you struggled to look at him. Peter let out a ragged breath, shaking his head to try and convey that he didn’t mean anything he was saying.

“I…I don’t know.” He croaked. “I just don’t.”

“How do you not know?” You yelled tearfully.

“I just don’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t know my feelings would change.”

“But how could they change so fast? All those things you said to me, “That’s the only pain I’ll ever put you in”. ,you mimicked his voice, “Was all that just bullshit?”

“No.” He stated. “I meant it when I said that.”

“And I believed you. God, how could I be so stupid?” You cried.

“You’re not stupid.” Peter began to cry as well. “You’re just not what I want.”

“Not what you want?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you repeated his words.

“I just don’t want to be in a relationship right now. Can you please try to understand that?” He begged, trying to salvage any sort of relationship with you that he could.

“No. Fuck you. I hate you.” You whimpered.

“You don’t mean that.” Peter said as he stepped closer to you.

“Yes I do. I never should’ve given you a chance. I fucking hate you, Peter Parker.” You cried as you hit his chest. “I wish we never met.”

“Please, don’t leave.” Peter pleaded as you grabbed your bag. “We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want anything to do with you.” You sniffled as you went for the door. At this point, Peter was deeply regretting his decision. He knew he should have told you how he was feeling instead of acting irrationally.

“Wait. I think I made a mistake.” His hands began to tremble as a panic ran down his spine.

“No, I did.” You told him. “The mistake was believing you when you told me you loved me.”

“I do love you.” Peter said weakly.

“Then why are you breaking me?” You yelled at him. You and Peter fell into a defeating silence, both standing there with tears falling. You looked down at your feet and wiped your face, sucking in a sharp breath before speaking.

“You said you’d never break my heart.” You said quietly. You slowly looked up at Peter and sized him up and down with your eyes. In that moment, he was no longer the boy you grew to love. He had reverted back to being your enemy, and so you had just one word for him.

“Liar.”

With that, you turned around and left his apartment. Your word suck into Peter like venom and he felt physically ill. He stumbled back and fell down on his bed, his full emotions finally being felt. Peter put his hand over his mouth and cried so hard that he began to dry heave. He was realizing much too late that Ned had been right. With the way Peter was feeling, he knew he had not made the right decision. He just chased his first love away in a mess of tears and shards of a broken heart.

~

You ignored the calls and texts from Peter for the following week. He didn’t want to bombard you, so he sent his usual good morning and goodnight texts with a little “please talk to me” at the end. After three days of tearing up whenever his name popped up on your screen, you blocked his number.

May let you in one night when he was on patrol so you could collect your things. You grabbed the shirts and underwear you kept in his drawer from all the times you “accidentally” slept over. You took your chapstick on his bed table, hairbrush on his dresser, and the toothbrush you kept in his bathroom. You held the box of your things against your hip and looked around his room. He had your project, the one that initially brought the two of you together, framed on his wall. You looked down at the ground, feeling like you might break if you looked at it, and left his room.

“Did you get everything?” May asked when you came back into the kitchen.

“I think so.” You said quietly, not trusting your voice not to break.

“I don’t understand him sometimes.” She frowned. “He loved you so much. I can’t understand why he’d do this.”

“Yeah.” You smiled tightly. “I can’t either.”

“Come here.” May opened her arms to you and you stepped into them. She blew cold air on your neck as you cried against her shoulder.

“He’s the smartest guy I know.” She said as she rubbed your back. “But he’s also incredibly stupid.”

“I know.” You laughed through your tears.

“He’ll come around.” She cupped your face and wiped your tears with her thumbs. “I can tell that he already regrets it. Give him a few days and he’ll be begging at your feet for forgiveness.”

“Maybe.” You smiled sadly. “Thanks for letting me in. I should go before he comes back.”

“Wait. Before you go.” May said as she took a bottle of body spray out of your box. She took your hand and lead you to Peter’s room, where she sprayed the body spray into the air.

“There.” She smiled. “That’ll torture him when he gets back. He’ll think he’s being haunted by you.”

“May.” You laughed at her ingenious. “That’s so mean.”

“He was meaner.” She shrugged. “I’ll see you soon, Y/n.”

You said goodbye to May and went to your next stop. This one being the Avengers tower. Tony put your face in the facial recognition system, so you had no trouble getting in. You got most of your things from Peter’s room, but took a page out of May’s book and left something on purpose. After collecting the rest of your things, you went into the kitchen. You slammed the box on the table and let out a loud sigh. An equally distraught sigh coming from behind the box made you jump out of your skin. You moved the box to the side and lo and behold, Bucky was sitting at the table scribbling in a small black notebook.

“Oh, sorry.” You blinked a few times to gather yourself. “I was just collecting my things. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

“I’m not usually here.” He said without looking up. “But I’m making amends and Stark is on my list.”

“Amends?” You asked curiously as you fixed your hair. Bucky put the notebook down and looked up at you, his piercing gaze sending a chill down your spine.

“I’ve done some bad things.” He said simply. You gulped and looked him up and down, which he noticed. You weren’t really thinking straight when you walked over to him and ran your fingers through his messy hair.

“Wanna do some more?” You said slowly. Bucky moved away from your hand and gave you a strange look.

“What?” He asked you.

“I like doing bad things too.” You shrugged as you played with his jacket. “And I like having bad things done to me. If you’d like, I could show you.”

“Aren’t you dating the spider kid?”

“Nope.” You popped the p. “Not anymore. I’m free to do whoever, sorry, whatever I want.”

“How old are you?” Bucky narrowed his eyes at you.

“Old enough.” You cracked a smile and traced your fingernail down his face.

“So am I.” He said as he caught your hand. “Old enough to be a fossil. You don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Says who?” You pouted as you put your knee between his legs. You were leaning over him now, giving him no choice but to look at you.

“Says me. Goodnight.” Bucky got out of his chair and brushed past you.

“Wait.” You said, and he stopped.

“What?”

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, drumming your fingers on his back.

“I’m 18, I’m hot, and I’m really fucking horny.” You told him. “Why don’t you stay a while?”

“I was 18 almost 90 years ago.” He replied. “You’re a child. It would be really wrong.”

“But it would feel really, really good.” You whispered. Bucky stared at you for a long time as he contemplated it.

“You don’t want to do this.” He said finally.

“Yes I do.” You insisted. “I always have. Why don’t you show me what this arm does?”

“You don’t want me.” He repeated. “You want me to take your pain away. And you want to do it in a way that would hurt Peter the most. Am I right?”

You slowly took your arms away from him as you realized he just read you to filth.

“How did you know that?” You wondered.

“I go to therapy.” He shrugged. “A lot of therapy.”

You fully withdrew yourself from him now, feeling slightly embarrassed for coming on to him. Bucky could see that you had taken your guard down and relaxed as well.

“Thanks.” You said sheepishly as you adverted your eyes.

“For what?” He wondered.

“For being a good guy and not taking advantage of a sad girl.” You gave him a sad smile. Bucky cracked an awkward smile back at you, like it was something he wasn’t used to doing.

“I’m not normally described as a good guy.” He told you.

“You’re making amends right?” You gestured to the notebook. “Every one you make is another step towards being a better guy. It may not feel like it yet, but you’ll get there.”

“I guess you’re right.” He nodded a little, like he was too shy to fully agree with you. You smiled kindly at him, feeling like he could use a little tenderness.

“Have a goodnight, James.” You said as you picked up your box of belongings.

“Night.” He nodded at you before you left the room.

You took your things back to your apartment and went straight to sleep. Bucky had managed to relieve some of your pain, even if it was just a little. Ever since the breakup, you’ve been cursing the very existence of men. If someone as kind and innocent as Peter could break your heart, you weren’t sure there was any man out there you could trust. But after your brief conversation with Bucky, your hope was restored.

Meanwhile, Peter was making an opposite discovery. After patrol, he went back to his room and immediately spelled your scent. His eyes glassed over as you looked around, noticing all your missing items. He suddenly got a message from FRIDAY that someone had been in his room at the tower. He swung to the tower as fast as he could, but he got held up stopping some bad guys. By the time he finally made it there, you were gone.

“Damn it.” Peter smacked his dresser as he looked around his empty room. “FRIDAY, did Y/n come in here?”

“Yes.” FRIDAY answered. Peter looked in his drawers and bathroom and just as he expected, all of your things were gone. He sat down on his bed and defeat and rubbed his face.

“If she took all her things back, she’s done with me.” Peter mumbled as a tear rolled down his eye.

“Maybe not.” FRIDAY replied.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re sitting on something.” FRIDAY said, making Peter move. Underneath himself, he found the t shirt of yours that he had been sleeping with. There was no way you wouldn’t have recognized it, and it had been left out in the open. Peter held the shirt to his nose and took a whiff, inhaling your scent once again. A glimmer of hope sparked inside him with the discovery of the shirt. If you left it on purpose, maybe there was still a chance for the two of you.

“FRIDAY, where did Y/n go once she left my room?” Peter wondered. Maybe he could still catch up to you.

“The kitchen.” FRIDAY answered.

“In the kitchen?” Peter asked. “Why would she be in there?”

“You can see for yourself.” FRIDAY said as he projected the security footage onto Peter’s wall. Peter looked up to see you and Bucky in the kitchen, having a conversation. He couldn’t hear the audio, but he could see you playing with his hair and flirting with him. Peter dropped the shirt as a white hot jealousy ran through him.

“Turn it off, FRIDAY.” Peter swallowed angrily. “I’ve seen enough.”

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[lihikainanea]

LEIIII, CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT BILL AND TIGER GOING THE THE MET GALA BILL FuCkINg HeR iN ThE ReStRoOm????????????????

FIRST OF ALL, I have this like, weird interest in fashion over the past two years or so. I've never particularly been into it, but now my instagram is mainly fashion inspo and like, who is this person???? I've never considered myself fashionable, much less interested in fashion and now I swear to god I spend Sunday afternoons ~judging people~ and looking up latest fashion trends and how to wear things and I am just LOVING IT. And since nobody asked, I'm going to go ahead and list you my top fucking fashion ABSOLUTELY DO FUCKING NOT pet peeves:

1) Matching pantsuits. Hello, no. I know the designers that are trying to bring this back, and it's a hard no for me dawg. I am in my almost mid thirties and I ain't trying to look like a fucking old maid, thanks. These will never be fashionable. Just stop.

2) Derby shoes. These literally don't go with anything. I'm not sorry. If you're that committed to huge, clunky, ugly fucking shoes, get clogs. I ain't saying you have to wear heels, not at all. But find yourself some nice oxfords, a nice loafer, hell even some mules--and they will be infinitely nicer than fucking derby shoes.

3) Layering. No, kids. Baum und Pferdgarten, I love you. I do. I have a few of your dresses. But ya'll motherfuckers need to stop with this pajama-esque, mixed and clashing pattern, oversized bullshit looks that you call fashion. There is a way to wear slouchy, and babes, THAT AIN'T IT. YOU LITERALLY LOOK LIKE A FUCKING WARHOL PAINTING THREW UP ON YOU. Mixing patterns is cool, we like that, but Jesus Christ it has to have some consistency.

alright, now onto the actual ask.

All of this to say, I kept a keen eye on the Met Gala this year and I was...perplexed. At best. Horrified, at worst.

So like, tiger right? There's little else in the world that tiger hates as much as Bill's outwardly Hollywood side. The parties. The schmoozing. And I mean, she knows it's part of his life so that's fine, but in fairness--Bill also abhors this side. He loathes it. And he's been to the Met gala once, which notoriously never allows a +1 unless that +1 is famous, but low and behold--by some stroke of luck--Bill's invitation this year allows for it.

"No." tiger says immediately.

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!" he exclaims.

"I know what that is," she points to the invitation in his hand, "And no."

It's a hard no. It takes Bill weeks--because like, tiger ain't Hollywood. She doesn't want to do the dress. She doesn't want the mingling with fucking celebrity guests. She doesn't want the paparazzi. She wants none of it. But like, eventually--after so much begging--eventually Bill gets her to agree. His stylist will get a dress for her. Hair and make up is taken care of. Bill promises her that she can just slip in the back, sit at the table, and have cocktails to her heart's galore while he walks the red carpet. She doesn't have to be photographed--and truth be told, tiger's a nobody so people aren't really interested in photographing her anyway. That's fine by her.

The dress worries her, because tiger isn't exactly celebrity material but the stylist is so kind in taking measurements. Bill handles everything--the flights, the make up reservations, the hair appointments. On the day of, he checks them into the Bowery Hotel and then tiger doesn't have to worry about a thing. He shoves a fluffy robe at her, and then there's just a flurry of activity--massages first. Breakfast after. A stint in the steam room--which they absolutely have sex in. Facials. Manicures--for both. A light lunch. And then the bell rings and in come a flurry of a team ready to glamorize them--Bill's favourite groomer, his stylist, tiger's make up artist, her hair stylist. The primping process is the longest tiger has ever been through--but there's wine, there's snacks, her Big Dude is right beside her looking handsome as all hell. And when tiger puts on a dress that is worth more than she makes in a year, when her hair is all done up and her make up is perfect--she begrudgingly admits to him that yes, Beeeeeel, she does feel pretty.

"You look stunning kid," he praises, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. To her slight embarrassment (but secret joy), he hands his phone off to his assistant and asks for a few pictures.

And like, here's the thing right? The Met Gala has a strict policy: no spouses or couples seated together. Seriously, it's a thing. Look it up. And while tiger is mildly freaking out about that, she calms down considerably when she does see a name tag at her table that she recognizes.

Alex. Skarsgård.

Tiger smiles, Bill grimaces.

And that's what starts it, right? Bill is at a table far away but not too far, and right where he can keep her in his line of sights. He knows she wasn't looking forward to this so he wants to keep an eye on her, but then like....why the fuck does she look like she's having so much fun? Alex is cracking the whole table up, being his usual charismatic self. Tiger is laughing, guffawing actually, beyond control--her hand on his, clutching his forearm. Bill barely even makes conversation with his own table, he's staring so intently at the two of them and tiger looking like she's having the best night of her life.

Bill's blood is boiling. It boils even more when he sees tiger make a face at her main plate--her nose wrinkling, her lip curled in disgust--and without missing a beat Alex's fork swoops over, plucks all the green onions from her food, and tiger smiles gratefully at him. Bill slams his napkin down on the table.

"Excuse me," he mutters in response to the curious glances. And then he stalks over, heads right to her table, and he's so silent that she jumps a mile when she hears his voice in her ear from behind her.

"A word, kid?" he says.

"But the food just--"

"Now." he says insistently. He holds a hand out to her, helps her push her chair back and stand. But then he's basically dragging her to a restroom, and poor tiger isn't quite used to heels this high.

"Hang on bud," she pleads, "I'm not that coordinated."

But he doesn't hang on. Instead he reaches back, loops a strong arm around her waist and basically carries her on his side to the bathroom. Tiger's feet don't hit the floor for a good 200 feet. And once inside the bathroom, he locks the door and glares at her.

"If that dress wasn't couture, I'd have you on your fucking knees kid," he threatens. Tiger's eyes get wide.

"What did I do?" she asks innocently. Bill just glares.

"Having a good time, are you? Having the best night ever?" he accuses.

Tiger is starting to get a feeling what this is about, and oh man--she's about to rile her Big Dude up. Dressed to the nines, in a public place, surrounded by riches, and Bill is about to get a bit possessive over her? Tiger is a sucker for it every time.

"Yes," she plays into it, "Alex is being amazing. He's so--"

She doesn't get to finish the sentence, because Bill growls and lunges for her, pinning her back against the cool tile.

"You are mine," he snarls. Tiger just tilts her chin up, bites onto his bottom lip.

"Prove it." she challenges.

The roar Bill lets out is fucking feral. Tiger doesn't even have time to react before her dress is pulled up, he yanks his belt undone, and he's slamming into her. She moans, and he grabs her face in his hand.

"Don't come," he snarls, "Don't you dare come."

And like the good girl she is for him--she doesn't. She grits her teeth, tries to stave it off even as he slams deep into her, growls as his release fills her up, bites her neck hard enough to leave a mark. She whimpers, her knees wobbly, and tries to reach for a tissue.

"No," he grabs her hand.

"But it's messy," she pleads. But another glare is enough to silence her, and he swiftly pulls her panties up, smoothes her dress back down.

"You're going to sit there, full of my come for the rest of the night," he tells her, "And I want you to think of that, I want you to feel it, every time you look at him."

"Bill--" she whimpers. He silences her with a rough kiss.

"Go on," he said, "Back to your seat."

On shaky legs, she turns and tries to walk out as nonchalant as possible. He waits a few minutes before exiting, going to find his seat and sitting back down. He keeps an eye on her for the rest of the evening, but he doesn't even have to--every time he looks over at her, she's already staring at him--her eyes wide, needy, her knees pressed tightly together.

[skiller0dani]

More | Ethan Nestor

M A S T E R L I S T YouTube Masterlist

smut requested requests info Part 1

lately ethan is the only thing that brings a smile to my face. thank god he exists. thank god he was born. 

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Ethan said with a shrug, adamantly avoiding Mark’s doubtful gaze. That’s the agreement you and Ethan made, you could fool around all you wanted but you were just friends. Lately, the lines felt more blurred than they had in the past, but you were still just friends. 

“Uh-huh.” Was all Mark said, but Ethan pretended not to hear him. 

Ethan didn’t know what kind of answer Mark wanted to hear, all he could tell him was the truth. No matter how painful the truth is, and painfully you and Ethan are just friends. From the first kiss, the first touch Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. Instead of outright admitting how he feels about you, he continues to go along with friends with benefits. 

He loves being able to fuck you, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more than that. “What?” Ethan can’t stop the word as it pushes free from the confines of his mouth. Mark smirks. 

“Nothing.” 

“It’s definitely not nothing.” 

“Don’t you think it’s time you asked Y/N on a date?” Mark blurted, his hands fixing the lens as he set up the camera in front of his desk. Without meaning to, Mark presses record and fully intends to stop recording immediately when a horribly wicked thought crosses his mind. You are one of their video editors. 

“W-Why would you think that?” Ethan felt a blush crawling up his neck, he and Mark didn’t have conversations like this. 

“I know how you feel about her, you’re being a pussy.” There’s a smile on Mark’s face that lets Ethan know he’s only joking. Sort of. A nervous chuckle escapes Ethan’s lips before he can stop it, and he’s pulling at the collar of his black and white splattered t-shirt. Which coincidentally, you gave him for his birthday this year. 

“She said just friends.” Ethan sighs, knowing there’s no point lying to Mark. 

It was your idea to be ‘just friends’, you had suggested it first. That’s what keeps stopping Ethan from trying to be more, why would he when you said to his face you wanted to be just friends? 

“She said that just in case you didn’t feel the same way dude.” Mark rolled his eyes, never did he think he’d be coaching Ethan on how to communicate with a girl. Ethan shook his head, itching the back of his neck as he turned back to Mark’s desktop. Mark hoped he didn’t notice the camera recording. He didn’t. 

Deep down Mark knows that Ethan isn’t going to do anything no matter what he says to him. “Do you have feelings for her?” He asks, watching Ethan desperately avoid making eye contact with him. 

“Yeah.” 

“Then it’s worth a shot.” Mark shrugs, turning to grab for the mouse. His eyes looking into the lens as he reaches up to ‘hit record’ on the camera. Mark wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for Amy informing him on your enormous crush on Ethan. 

It was late when Ethan finally made it back to his apartment, and to his surprise he still found you curled on his couch where he left you that morning. You had a book nestled in your lap and Spencer curled at your feet, it made a warm feeling blossom in Ethan’s chest. “Hey.” 

He smiled upon hearing your voice. “Hey, I’m surprised you’re still here.” 

You blushed. 

“You have good books that you never read!” You explain with a pink blush dusted across your cheeks. Ethan kicked off his shoes with a smile, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He wants you to be here waiting for him to get home all the time. He wants you to be waiting for him like this, not some other guy. He wants more. 

“Mind if I stay tonight?” Your question is hesitant, but instead of answering Ethan worms his way under your book and lays his head in your lap. “Have I ever?” 

He thinks about what Mark said earlier, and Ethan wishes he had the guts to outright tell you how he feels. He wished he could, but he’s not nearly brave enough for that. He knows the way he feels about you is more than a crush, it’s more real, more raw than that. He remembers all the times you’ve been there when he desperately needed you, all the times you’ve laughed at a dumb meme at 2 in the morning. Those gentle moments in the pale moonlight, those moments after sex but before sleep. When he rolls over and looks at you, and you smile shyly at him, your hands intertwined. Ethan knows your body like the back of his hand, he wants to know your heart like that. 

When Ethan first started this with you, he and Mika had just broken up. He needed someone, needed to feel someone against him. You were there when he needed you, and then the lust turned into something more. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did and now it was consuming his every waking thought. 

You continue reading your book, your fingers aimlessly combing through Ethan’s hair. “Gonna put me to sleep.” 

You look down at Ethan to see his eyes have fluttered shut, and he’s fully nuzzled into your lap. Your heart feels like it grows 10 sizes, but you’re just friends. Friends do stuff like this...right? Before you think twice, you’re leaning over and pressing your lips to Ethan’s Spiderman style. When you pull back, Ethan’s eyes are open and focused on you. Ethan sits up when you shift under him, and his eyes widen in surprise when you sink to your knees in front of the couch where he’s sitting. 

“What are you doing?” He swallows thickly, feeling his cock already hardening in his jeans. You smile shyly, you’ve never initiated anything sexual before. It was always Ethan making the first move. “W-Well I wanted to do something nice for you. You worked all day today.” 

Ethan leaned back against the couch as your hands fumbled with his belt, before finally unbuckling it. Your hands unbutton his jeans before your hand delves into his boxers, your fingers wrapping around the hard shaft. Ethan spreads his knees apart further to allow you more room, a soft hiss escaping his mouth when you finally free him from the confines of his jeans. 

“Y/N you don’t have to-” The protest dies in his throat when you take him into your mouth, your tongue snaking under his shaft along the vein that runs all the way down to the base. His head falls back against the couch as you continue to slowly work him down your throat. Eventually one of Ethan’s hands winds into your hair, but he doesn’t tug your head. It’s more that he needs something to hold onto. Soon your nose nestled against Ethan’s pelvis, and you hear him groan softly when you swiftly pull off him. You smiled up at him, and when Ethan looked down at you his pupils engulfed most of his eyes. 

You stood and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I have to go edit the video from today. Be back in an hour or two.” 

“I thought you said you were going to do something nice!” You hear him groan loudly as you leave the room and you can’t help but laugh. 

You sit at the computer, the video pulled up in the editing software. You hear something frying in the living room so you can only assume Ethan is making dinner. Your heart races in your chest, this doesn’t feel like just friends anymore. Ethan lets you stay the night, in fact you’re over here basically every night of the week. He holds your hand, cooks for you, randomly gives you kisses. You don’t want to be friends anymore, you need to be more than that. You try to shake the thoughts from your head when you hit play. 

The conversation you hear stops you dead in your tracks. 

“Do you have feelings for her?” 

“Yeah.” 

You almost feel guilty listening to their private conversation, but when Mark looks into the lens you know it was intentional. You see the blush on Ethan’s face, you see the small smile pulling at his lips when he admits his feelings for you. Ethan has been your best friend ever since he moved to LA, and even when he was with Mika your heart raced whenever he entered the room. You felt tears pushing at the backs of your eyes, he actually feels the same way! 

Your heart races at a million miles an hour as you stand on shaky legs. All this time you thought he didn’t want more, you thought that he was content being just friends. Your heart races and happiness blooms wildly in your chest. A smile stretches across your face before you can stop it. You push out of Ethan’s office and nearly stumble as you stand numbly in the kitchen. You stand quietly and watch him for a moment, humming to himself as he continues to cook dinner. Your chest warms, you want this with him. You want it all the time, you want to be able to kiss him in public and brag because yeah he’s yours. You want sex to mean something between you two, you want it to be more than just getting off. 

“Ethan?” Your voice is shaky, as you watch him stir some pasta in a pot. 

“Hm?” 

You have so many things you want to say, but when Ethan turns to look at you it all completely unravels. His eyebrows furrow together once he sees the tears in your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face. Your mind goes blank as you look into his eyes, the tender concern laced in them as he watches you cautiously. You know what you want to say, and you know that saying it could change everything between you two forever but that’s what you want. You want things to change forever. You can’t live in limbo like this with him anymore, you need more. A tear drifts down your cheek, and Ethan has a confused and worried look on his face. 

“I love you.” The words come out softer than you thought, and for a second it felt as though time stood still. You see something flash in his eyes, and you smile wider before taking a few steps towards him. “I love you Ethan.” You whisper as you reach him, your arms winding around his shoulders. You feel immense relief as the words free themselves from your mind, finally being out in the open between you. Ethan blinks in confusion before swiftly pressing his lips against yours. The desperation that is normally laced in every kiss isn’t there this time. This time, the kiss is soft, and slow, and tender. It makes you feel weak in the knees. 

His hand reaches to turn off the stove as his other one cups your cheek to deepen the kiss. Ethan’s eyes are closed tightly, as are yours and you know your cheeks are wet with tears. “I love you Y/N.” His voice wavers and you press your lips to his once more, and soon Ethan’s hands are pulling your thighs up to lift you off the ground. He walks you through his apartment before you feel his soft sheets against your back, and he finally pulls away from you. Ethan brushes his nose against yours as he smiles down at you. Your hands slide under his shirt, pulling it off his body as you go. You lean up to press kisses to his collarbones, drawing out soft sighs from him as you go. 

Ethan’s hands reach for your leggings, slowly pushing them down as your lips find a tender spot of his neck. You bite down, and you hear Ethan groan as his hands pull your panties down next. His hand drifts up your body, past where you need him and up your stomach. You lay back against the pillows when his hands pull his shirt you took over your head. This isn’t just sex anymore, you’re in love with him. His bulge rocks into your bare core through his jeans and you whimper before reaching down to quickly pull his jeans down his legs. Luckily he never put his belt back on. Ethan’s forehead rests against yours as his boxers join his jeans on the ground and your hand is deftly stroking him. 

Ethan rests on his elbows, and for the first time you can really feel his body against yours as you continue to pump him slowly with your hand. “Jesus stop, keep teasing me like that and I’ll fucking cum.” Ethan groans, eliciting a giggle from you. Ethan reaches down and runs his fingers through your folds, a loving tenderness in his eyes as he positions his head at your entrance. You press your lips against his, and your lips move together slowly as Ethan slides into you with one swift thrust. You gasp against his lips, your nails digging into his bare shoulders. Your toes curl as Ethan slowly pulls out before rocking back into you tenderly. 

He sets a soft and gentle pace, his thrusts going deep and slow. You moan softly as you rock against him, your lips never leaving his. Ethan keeps his slow and loving pace, causing your entire pelvis to heat up. The way he looks at you when he finally parts from you, that look in his eyes nearly brings tears to your eyes. It makes you feel like he really does love you. “Fuck Ethan-” You cry out softly, holding him tighter to you when his pace picks up a little. His hand drifts in between your bodies and presses against your clit, and as soon as it does you’re cumming around him. Ethan offers a few more weak thrusts before he’s cumming inside you. 

When he pulls out of you he rolls over to lay next to you, a boyish smile on his face. You press your lips to his once more, winding your arms around his waist. 

“I love you.” You can’t help but say it again, you just want to say it over and over again. Ethan presses a kiss to your forehead with an easy smile on his face. “I know, I love you too.” 

“What made you tell me?” Ethan brushed a hand through your hair as you laid your head on his chest. You smiled shyly. 

“Mark left your little conversation at the beginning of the video he sent me today.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Ethan blushed. 

“Jerk.” You couldn’t help but laugh, and finally it felt like everything in your life finally fell into place. 

[barnes-dameron]

Destruction of Government Property

*not my gif

Francisco “Catfish” Morales x reader

Summary: After Frankie leaves for his tour, you get an interesting call from the government about something you and Frankie did before he left...

Word count: 2k

Warnings: one steamy scene, but no smut. 

A/N: I don’t usually write for characters outside of the MCU or SW, but here we go. Saw this screenshot from a tumblr post, and had to write it with Frankie. 

***

You dreaded the ride to the airport, especially since the person you were riding with won’t be with you on the drive back. At least the heavy gray clouds outside seemed to match your mood. It felt like yesterday that Frankie came back. Of course you both knew it wouldn’t be for long, but now that the day has come, you felt a crack form in your heart. 

You glanced over at your husband at the wheel, a solemn look gracing his handsome face. Even when he’s pouting, he still manages to be cute. You knew that he hated leaving you, but he did promise that this one will be the last one. Apparently, him and the team decided on it since Tom wanted to be with his family more, as did Frankie, and the others agreed that they rather retire than have other soldiers be assigned to their team. 

You reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it in order to soothe him just a bit. 

“Ten months,” Frankie said, breaking the silence and briefly looking at you before returning his gaze to the road.

“Ten months,” you repeated. “Ten months, and then I’ll have you all to myself.” 

“You already do,” Frankie laughed, fingering the wedding ring that you were wearing. 

“You know what I mean,” you retorted. “Just... no more long trips, no more cold beds, no more worrying if you’ll make it back-” 

“Hey,” Frankie interjected. “You know I will always come back to you.” 

You nodded, knowing that Frankie was right. He was a resilient man despite his seemingly quiet demeanor, something that you were attracted to when you met him years ago. He was determined, but he was also smart. He never knowingly did anything stupid, and thought things out before carrying out the action. He came back from tours before, and you were sure that he would return from this one too. 

Air was struggling to come to your lungs as Frankie parked the car at the airport parking lot. You’ve done this before, but it didn’t make things easier. You looked over and see that Frankie was having trouble to comprehend the entire situation as well. You wouldn’t see each other for ten whole months. He would be in entire different continent, an ocean away from you, risking his life. And you would be here, continuing your civilian life, not knowing what is happening to your husband. 

“One more time,” you pleaded. “One more time before you go.” 

Frankie looked at you, a smirking stretching across his face before reaching his hand down, and pushing the driver’s seat all the way back. You laughed at his enthusiasm before unbuckling your seat belt and climbing over the console to straddle his lap. 

“Okay, we’re going to have to do this quick,” Frankie said, settling his hands on your hips. “I can’t miss my flight otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Do you think we can break our record?” you asked, arching your eyebrow and flashing him a smile while biting your lip. 

Frankie reached down, beginning to undo his belt and zipper of his uniform. 

“Hermosa, no me dudes,” he growled before bringing a hand to the back of your neck and dragging your lips to meet his. 

You didn’t wait for him to ask for permission, but instead opening your mouth to tangle your tongue with his. No matter how many times you two kiss or make love, you tried to memorize every aspect of it for the lonely nights when he’s away. You gripped his collar as Frankie ground his cock against your core, working you up. 

You broke away from his mouth, placing kisses on his newly shaved cheeks and jaw, missing the scruff that used to be there. Frankie’s hands drifted to your ass, squeezing the flesh as you continued to make your journey down to his neck. You kissed and sucked the spot on his neck that you knew drove him crazy. His low groan rumbling in his chest and his tightened grip on your ass only encouraged you. You bit and sucked on his skin, tasting the tingle of salt and inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne. 

“Quit teasing,” Frankie panted, smacking your ass playfully. “Tick tock, remember.” 

You broke away, ignoring the red spot that bloomed on his neck. You smiled to yourself before pulling up the dress that you wore specifically for this purpose, and pulling aside your panties. 

“Okay, let’s do this.”

***

The plane ride was unbearable to Frankie. Well, everything about this trip was unbearable to him, except your little escapade in the car at the airport parking lot. It was beginning to be a little tradition for you both, but that time would be the last one under those circumstances. Francisco hated to say goodbye to you, even if he was going to see you again. He hated to see the tears in your eyes, and hated even more that he wouldn’t get to be with you for close to a year. 

The ride was long, the seat were uncomfortable, and the food sucked. It didn’t help that Benny snored when he slept, Pope would listen to his music so loud that Frankie could hear it, even if Santiago was wearing headphones, and Frankie had the middle seat. He couldn’t even get a lot of sleep because someone behind him was shaking their leg causing his seat to jostle around. For the first time in his military career, Frankie was excited to be at the base. At least here he could catch some sleep. He just needed to get through this debrief meeting. 

“Alright men,” the General said, drawing Frankie out of his thoughts to pay attention. “You have now what you need to carry out the mission tomorrow. Dismissed.” 

Frankie was the first to stand up and begin to make his way out. 

“Morales,” the General’s voice stopping him in his track as Frankie let out a sigh. 

So close. Frankie turned around, straightening his spine and folding his arms behind him. 

“Yes, sir,” Frankie responded, trying to remain cordial while his blood boiled when sleep was calling his name. 

“What’s that on your neck, soldier?” the General asked. 

Heat bloomed in Frankie’s chest, reaching up his neck, and spreading to his cheeks. He reached his hand to his neck, his fingers settling on the mark that you left. It was tender under his touch, and even if he himself didn’t see it, he knew that it was purple. He thought back to the car, your mouth on his flesh. He thought for sure that the mark would be concealed under his collar, but he was wrong. Frankie licked his lips as he struggled to meet his General’s gaze. Catfish could see Pope and Benny behind the General, giving him a devious smile as they tried to conceal their laughter. Frankie cursed underneath his breath. 

“It’s nothing, sir,” Frankie replied.

“Don’t lie to me, son,” the General demanded, his voice gruffer than what it was before. “What is that on your neck?” 

Frankie took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the embarrassment. Nobody else left the meeting, instead standing around to watch this interaction. 

“A hickey, sir,” Frankie responded, much to the delight of his friends. 

Benny failed, and let out a huff of laughter, causing Will to elbow him in the ribs. The General’s attitude, however, was unwavering. 

“And who gave it to you?” the General asked. 

Frankie bit his lip, looking down at the ground before looking back at the General. 

“My wife,” Frankie said. 

The General eyed him and then the hickey on his neck. The room was so quiet that a fallen pin could be heard. Everyone waited to see what the General will do, but were all surprised that he left without saying a word. Once out, Santiago and Benny let out their laughter, bending forward with their hands on their knees as their raucous laughs filled the air. Frankie was still in the same position, stuck in bewilderment from the oddity of what just happened. Pope clapped a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, before pulling Frankie’s collar down to further display the bruise on his neck. 

“Wow,” Pope exclaimed, examining your handiwork. “Your wife did a bang up job, Fish.” 

Benny laughed even louder as Redfly scolded him. 

“I’m never gonna live this down, aren’t I?” Frankie asked, biting his lip while casting his gaze downwards, not wanting to look at his friends. 

“Never,” Benny confirmed. 

***

The house was dark when you got home from work, much to your disappointment. You longed for the times when Frankie was home before you; the lights on, music playing, and his relaxed figure moving about in domesticity. But instead it was dark, quiet, and empty. 

You turned on the hallway light of your little house, illuminating the picture that hung near the front door. It was photo of you and Frankie from your honeymoon, his smiling face still greeting you despite the distance. You smiled to yourself, reaching up to drift your fingers over the image. It’s been nearly a day, and you already miss him. 

You were drawn away from your thoughts when a buzzing sound in your purse broke the silence. You reached in, fingering around to find your phone and fish it out. You arched an eyebrow as the words “NO CALLER ID” displayed on the screen. But nonetheless, you picked up. 

“Hello?” you asked, your brows creasing towards the center. 

“Is this Y/N Morales?” the man asked, his voice sounding deep through the spotty reception. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, uncertainty evident in your voice. 

“Mrs. Morales, are you aware that you have committed a misdemeanor?” the man implored. 

Your stomach sank to the floor when it reached your ears. Your heartbeat began to quicken, as panic arose. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, gripping your phone tighter. “I’ve never committed any kind of crime in my life. What misdemeanor?”

“Destruction of government property,” the man answered. 

“Destruction of government property?” you repeated. “I’ve never destroyed, or even defaced any government property. Well, one time I wrote on a dollar bill but that’s only because I didn’t have any paper and it was an emergency. Is that what this is about?”

“No ma’am,” the man replied. “I’m talking about the mark you left on Lieutenant Colonel Francisco Morales.”

“Mark?” you asked. “What mark?”

The man was silent for a moment, and you could barely hear the gulp he made over the phone. 

“The hickey, ma’am,” the man said, his voice a bit shaky. “The hickey on Lieutenant Colonel Morales’s neck.”

You instantly remembered the day he left. You did bite his neck, but you didn’t intend to give him a hickey. You forgot about how easily he bruises there. You let out a breath, rubbing your forehead with your other hand. 

“Are you serious?” you asked, annoyance creeping in. “I’m facing a misdemeanor charge for giving my husband a hickey? It’s not like I did graffiti on a government building or defaced a statue. And since when is a person considered government property?”

You could tell that the man was flustered due to your line of questioning, and you were annoyed that you could potentially get fined because of something stupid like this.   

“Ma’am,” the man sputtered out, his voice trying to come off calm but still was shaky. “We’ll let you off with a warning, as long as it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You know what,” you said, done with the military and government at this point. “Fine. Fine, whatever.” 

You didn’t bother to say goodbye, just hanging up the phone. It was the military who was putting your husband’s life at risk, and it was the military who threatened you with misdemeanor charges. Yeah, as long as Frankie was in the military, you won’t give him any more hickeys. But this was his last tour. 

You threw your phone on the couch as you made your way to the living room to unwind. You couldn’t wait until Frankie got home. He will be out of the military, and you plan to keep him in your shared bedroom. Yep, when your husband gets back, you’re going to mark him up so good that it’ll be weeks before they disappear completely. 

Taglist: @absurdthirst​ @tangledlove27​

[kasienda]

Right Behind You - Ch 3: Akuma

Chapter 1: Scandal

Chapter 2: Friends

Chapter 3: Akuma

Chat Noir vaulted from one building to the next with the ease that came with almost a decade of practice. Even the explosions that tilted the ground with alarming frequency did nothing to throw off the hero’s balance or progression.

He landed in a crouch overlooking the akuma. The akuma was cemented into the ground with neon blue cannons on both arms, but able to pivot in every direction. Smaller turrets dotted the area in half a dozen concentric circles around the main villain.

It shot off a projectile that split off into six different pieces, each one flying towards a different building. Chat cringed as the missiles found their targets bringing down each building in what looked like controlled demolitions. Seismic waves crashed through the area seconds later.

Definitely not good. 

At least it was stationary. But it had enough firepower that getting close would be near impossible.

Maybe he should have dove in immediately, but he didn’t see any evidence of civilians, and he really wanted some backup because explosions sucked. Even if Miraculous Ladybug healed everything after the fact, fighting with broken ribs was not fun. Not remotely. And with the explosives coming at the end of heavy projectiles with homing capabilities, they would have to approach this one cautiously, and probably defensively. 

He groaned. He hated laying siege. It was going to take hours.

Carapace landed on the roof beside him. “How ya doing, Kit-Kat?” 

Chat Noir smiled in greeting, but his eyes remained laser focused on the akuma. “Honestly? I’ve had better days. You?”

“Same. I got almost no sleep last night. And the alert woke me from the absolute best nap I’ve had in weeks. Now, I’ve got a killer headache instead.”

The rooftop under them shook as a nearby building crashed to the ground in a heap of rubble.

“That is one nasty akuma,” Carapace said.

Chat Noir nodded in agreement as he opened up the extra-dimensional pocket in his baton and pulled out two little white pills. He held them out to his turtle-themed teammate. “I keep some extra strength Tylenol in my baton.”

Carapace’s face lit up as he took the offered medication. “Dude! I could kiss you!”

Chat smirked. “You’ll have to buy me dinner first.”

Carapace barked out a laugh. “I’m sure I could whip up a can of tuna for you, Kit-Kat.”

Chat shook his head playfully. “You’ll have to work harder to win my affections. I’ll have you know this cat has a very refined palette.”

Carapace laughed.

Chat Noir smiled. Maybe an hours-long siege wouldn’t be so bad. Definitely better than staying home alone in his oversized studio obsessing over every missed red flag from his “date” the day prior.

Maybe he should have gone on a date with Carapace instead. 

Keep reading on Ao3

“Shouldn’t we be fighting the akuma instead of standing around flirting?” 

Chat Noir and Carapace both turned around to see Rena Rouge standing behind them with her eyebrows raised in judgement. 

Chat just grinned, sweeping her into a sideways hug. “Rena! It’s been so long!”

“Missed you, too kitty. What’ve we got?” she asked, peering down over the edge of the roof.

“A demolition man?” Carapace observed, as another six buildings crumbled to the ground.

“Isn’t that a movie?” Chat asked. An old movie. Had Nino tried to get him to watch it? Nino loved any and all action flicks - new and old.

“Yup!” Rena confirmed. “My ex subjected me to it. Terrible movie.”

“Lies!” Carapace objected, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to her, Kit-Kat. Definitely worth your time.”

“I will never get those hours of my life back,” Rena said, drolly.

Chat Noir burst out laughing at the appalled expression on Carapace’s face.

“Guys! Let’s focus!” Ladybug’s voice interjected from behind them.

Chat started for a second, and then whirled towards her with a charming smile. “It’s good to see you, m’lady!”

She didn’t smile. “Not tonight, Chaton. Can we just get this over with?”

“Everything alright, boss lady?” Carapace asked, his lips curled downward into a slight frown.

She didn’t spare him a glance either. Instead, she watched the destruction below them without emotion. “I was having a good time with my friends for the first time in forever after an absolutely terrible week. And akumas…”

“Suck,” Carapace filled in.

“Exactly,” Ladybug agreed. “So, let’s get this over with and maybe the day can be salvaged. Chat, you go down the middle, Carapace go left of the building, and I’ll take the right. Rena, we need a ton of decoys. The goal is for all three of us to get there simultaneously and strike at once.”

Chat frowned, glancing away from the akuma and towards his partner. “Are you sure, m’lady? Wouldn’t it be better to huddle up, let Carapace cover us to get close?”

Carapace and Rena Rouge said nothing, both turned to Ladybug waiting for her response, but Ladybug’s face was still flat and impossible even for Chat Noir to read.

“If we split up,” he continued. “We’ll be more likely to get picked off. And the decoys will help, but they can’t replace an almost impenetrable shield against those missiles.”

“Playing this one defensively will take hours,” she said. “Let’s try the offensive strike first, and if it doesn’t work we can pivot quickly and we’ll be in a closer position to set up a shield.”

Adrien did not like it. She was asking him to gamble with their lives, with her life, to save time. Even Carapace and Rena exchanged a frown.

“Please,” Ladybug begged, taking a step forward, her blue eyes darting from one of them to the next, her face finally showing some emotion, and he did not like what he saw. “I really need to avoid an endless siege,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly glassy, threatening tears.

Her distress hit him like a punch to the gut. She clearly wasn’t okay, and hadn’t been for awhile. How had he failed to notice that she was far from okay? Because her tears now had nothing to do with the current akuma. This went deeper and he hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. How long had she been struggling while he ran in circles trying to keep his father happy in between grad school commitments?

He couldn’t remember the last time he had met up with her for a joint patrol or just took her out on a friend date, which had once been a regular thing between them.

He would have to make it up to her, and he could start with making this akuma go away as quickly as possible.

He nodded, and offered her a small smile. “Okay, m’lady. I know that if anyone can pull off a crazy plan, it’s you.”

She offered a watery smile in return and he felt his chest loosen for the first time since the akuma alert had sounded. The day wasn’t wasted if he could help her have a better one. 

“Thank you, Chaton,” she said. “I…” 

Her words were cut off as the building adjacent to them crashed to the ground in a crumbling free fall.

“Whatever we’re going to do, we should probably do it now,” Rena said. 

Ladybug’s soft vulnerable tears disappeared as she turned back to the akuma. Her usual game face - serious and sharp - took its place. And Chat couldn’t help the fond smile that bloomed across his face. Even when she was coming apart at the edges, she had so much strength. So much resilience.

“Rena, I want as many decoys as you can pull off,” Ladybug ordered. Rena nodded. “We’ll charge with a two second delay once the illusion is in place. Carapace, on the left, Chat in the middle, and I’ll take the right. Ready?”

“Aye aye, boss lady,” Carapace acknowledged with a salute.

The familiar sound of the flute rang through the air, and suddenly an army of countless Ladybugs, Carapaces, and Chat Noirs surrounded them protectively on all sides, just far enough apart that he didn’t really have to worry about touching them.

Chat launched himself off the rooftop towards the akuma. 

Missiles flew at the decoys, but the illusions dove sideways and away from the projectiles, most of them avoiding the collisions. The missiles were too fast though, and dozens of decoys clipped out of existence.

Chat Noir maintained his forward charge trying not to think about how unprotected he was. How unprotected his lady and Carapace were. 

The akuma was right in front of him - just a single vault away, when he stumbled - tripped over an errant piece of debris like a raw beginner who didn’t have nine years of experience under his belt. He took out half a dozen decoys himself as they ran straight through him.

He launched himself up from the cracked sidewalk immediately, but the damage was done. Carapace was stalled, fending off an unlucky aerial assault. Ladybug took the lead and reached the akuma first. But the villain fended her off easily with a backhand that sent her flying. Then fired off five missiles all tracking straight for Chat Noir who had just given away his position. 

He dodged around the first one easily enough. The second one, too. But the third cost him his balance, and he barely managed to swerve around the fourth. He ended up helpless on his knees, at the mercy of the fifth.

Every muscle locked, anticipating the blow, when Carapace slammed into him from the side, stealing his breath away. And they both ended sprawled across the unforgiving concrete. Before he could recover, the projectile hit the ground where he had been kneeling seconds prior.

The pavement launched upward, slamming him completely back to the ground. The sound was too loud to be heard, but he definitely felt it rip painfully through his body despite his protective transformation.

His ears - ringing with the aftershock - couldn’t hear anything else. But the protective green glow of Carapace’s shelter bloomed into existence around them, deflecting the worst of the next concussive wave over their heads. The ground remained unsteady beneath them though. 

Chat Noir allowed himself one deep breath before he kipped up to his feet and hauled Carapace to his, as his eyes rapidly took in the field on the other side of the green shield that was already cracking from a relentless assault.

“Please tell me this day is almost over,” Carapace growled out.

Most of the decoys had been decimated at this point - only a dozen or so remained, but Rena Rouge couldn’t create more without losing the current ones, which would reveal Ladybug’s position immediately.

Chat laughed. “I wish.”

He knew which one was actually Ladybug, though. It was in her single-minded focus. Every version of her was quick and graceful, able to pivot on the spot, and perform impossible dodges, but Ladybug always landed closer to her target than she started, determined as she was to end this battle. 

She truly was in rare form tonight. Her plan would likely have worked amazingly if he hadn’t screwed it up.

The akuma managed to take out another handful of decoys with his latest barrage of missiles. And then the akuma got lucky, and shot towards the real deal.

“Carapace-” 

She dove forward under the projectile, and then flipped back to her feet right in front of the akuma. 

“-drop the shield.” Chat Noir ordered, already running toward the barrier, not waiting for it to fall.

She snatched a keychain or a dog tag from the akuma’s neck, grinning in victory. She crushed it into pieces with her strengthened hands, but her grin dissolved when no butterfly emerged.

The green shield fell away. Chat put on a burst of speed.

The akuma swung his cannon arm and slammed it into Ladybug’s side. She was thrown sideways, and landed in a terrifyingly still puddle of red and black. 

The akuma pointed his rocket launcher towards her.

Chat Noir threw himself forward just as the akuma shot off the missile.

He took the blast square in the back. His suit no doubt offered some protection but this akuma had the power to bring down solid steel super frames. 

Chat Noir’s skeletal structure didn’t stand a chance.

Pressure exploded across his spine. The blinding pain came an instant later. It felt like he was being burned alive both inside and out.

He didn’t break his fall, his arms dangling lifeless at his sides. He landed face first, his chin striking the crumbling pavement sending a second wave of agony through his form.

He couldn’t breathe, let alone scream.

Was this what dying felt like? 

It had never hurt this bad before.

…

Carapace was still processing what Chat said when he took off like a bullet. Straight for the shield. Carapace frantically dissolved the barrier before his teammate could crash into it. Carapace shot after him, only a few paces behind, but he already knew it wasn’t enough.

His heart jumped up to his throat and time slowed to nothing as he watched Chat Noir take the hit meant for Ladybug, and crash to the ground, both his magical suit and skin torn to shreds, exposing raw bleeding tissue on his back and legs. 

Carapace threw himself into a roll to put himself between the akuma and his fallen companion, and landed sprawled against the black cat’s unmoving form, screaming for his shelter once again.

The shield went up not a second too soon, immediately taking hit after hit. The sound of cracking glass echoed overhead reminding him that the shield would only hold for so long against the maelstrom.

He glanced back, hoping he had managed to envelop Ladybug in the protective barrier as well. No such luck. She was just on the other side of the glowing green bubble. At least it was between her and the akuma. They made eye contact, and she jerked her head towards Chat. 

She wanted him to take care of her partner - not dive back into the battle. 

He nodded acknowledgement. 

A second later, she launched herself off the ground and took cover in the growing piles of rubble. 

His attention turned to Chat Noir who wasn’t moving. 

“Talk to me, Kit Kat!” Carapace shook his shoulder, but there was nothing, not so much as a groan. 

Up close, Chat looked even worse - like he had been chewed up and swallowed by a dinosaur, only to be spit back out. Carapace could only imagine how much pain he was in. Carapace had been knocked around more than his fair share in this line of work, but he’d never taken a hit that vaporized the suit away! 

He carefully rolled Chat to his side and then to his back, trying not to touch his injuries, which was almost impossible as they covered more than a third of his body. He was completely limp. Carapace leaned his cheek to Chat’s mouth, feeling for any signs of breathing. 

There wasn’t any. 

Carapace sucked in his own breath, his throat threatening to squeeze shut, and dread twisted his gut like a coiled snake. 

Carapace had seen Chat Noir put under mind control, transformed into various inanimate objects, erased or vaporized from existence. But he had never before had to confront a lifeless body. 

But surely the ladybugs could bring him back, right?

Another volley of missiles struck the outside of his barrier, the ground underneath them tilting sideways. The shield was holding. 

The sound of static buzzing filled the air and Chat’s transformation dropped.

Carapace was completely unprepared. They were adults. They hadn’t timed out in ages. And he jerked his gaze away, but unfortunately, Carapace could recognize his own best friend from just his clothes and shoes.

Especially when he had his face pressed to that shirt not thirty minutes prior.

His gaze whipped back up to the painfully familiar face, now marred with gashes and a rapidly forming bruise on his chiseled chin. 

“Opaque!” Carapace yelled. The translucent barrier turned a dark and solid green, though the cracks and fissures remained. He wouldn’t be able to see the battle, but that was better than losing Chat’s identity to all of Paris. 

Adrien’s identity.

The same Adrien who befriended him in collège when he had fallen into almost total isolation after his older brother had disappeared, the Adrien who had coaxed him through his first gig, the Adrien who had nursed him through his break up with Alya, who had held his hand through his bisexual awakening, the Adrien who had never failed to be there for him.

The Adrien who was his very best friend who was currently not breathing.

Nino cradled his best friend’s head in his lap as hot burning tears fell onto Adrien’s cheeks. 

“Carapace,” Chat’s kwami said. “He’s not okay.” 

“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Carapace asked, his eyes never leaving Adrien’s pale and lifeless form. “As soon as Ladybug fixes everything?”

“Probably not,” Plagg said. 

The two words struck him like a freight-train. His gut dropped out from underneath him as his heart rose up to his throat. His eyes burned, and the whole world went out of focus. He fell forward, his head pressed against Adrien’s as his sudden grief came out in wracking howls that sounded inhuman even to his own ears. 

He rocked back and forth, still holding Adrien close - if Nino held him close enough and hard enough, maybe he wouldn’t leave him. 

Nino knew that’s not how this worked. His throat cemented closed, and yet his devastated cries broke past the emotional blockade anyway.

“Carapace! Listen to me!” Plagg flew right into his face. “There’s a chance to save him! I need you to keep his heart going until Ladybug does her thing!” 

“W-what?” Nino stammered, staring at the kwami in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Turtle boy!” Plagg barked. “I need you to focus! Hands on his chest! Now! I will not lose this kitten!”

“You mean, like CPR?”

“Yes! Now!” 

Nino scrambled to comply, laying Adrien’s prone head gently on the ground, trying to ignore the stains of red on his own arms. He placed his hands on his friend’s chest. With elbows locked, Nino started pressing down hard over and over again.

“Faster!” Plagg directed. “Don’t stop!” 

Nino tried to focus on his own hands, and not on the hot tears slipping down over his mask, or the blood seeping on the cement to his knees, or the angry deep cuts that slashed across Adrien’s face, or Adrien’s closed eyes that might never open again. 

Nino tried to stamp down on his rising panic, tried to hold back the torrent of grief and tears, but he was failing. His whole form was crumpling in on itself as the wracking sobs kept coming in unrelenting waves despite his best efforts to hold them at bay.

“Don’t stop!” Plagg shouted again, diving towards Adrien’s jean pockets. 

Nino swallowed his fear and his devastation, forced it down until his gut swam sickenly. He fought off his desire to fold into a ball and howl to the universe about how this couldn’t happen. 

Instead, he forced himself to keep pressing down and up, and then down and up again on Adrien’s chest. It was a drum beat that he had to maintain, he couldn’t stop no matter how much his arms and shoulders burned in complaint. 

Because if he stopped, the world might end. 

If it hadn’t already. 

Plagg reappeared with Adrien’s phone in hand. A minute later he placed the device against Adrien’s bruised chin. A youtube tutorial on CPR was playing. Nino adjusted his rhythm to match the rapid counting in the video. It became mindless at that point, which unfortunately meant he had more ability to think.

It didn’t seem like it was working. Adrien wasn’t responding at all, and he was losing more blood with every thrust of Nino’s arms if the dark pool of red black at his knees was any indicator.

Nino lost his pace for a second overwhelmed with fear. What if it didn’t work? 

“Don’t stop!” Plagg shouted.

“He’s bleeding out!” Nino screamed back, syncing up with the video once again. “Aren’t I just making things worse?”

“Probably. I doubt anything is getting to his brain. But you’re not trying to revive him,” the kwami said, dismissively.

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re just trying to keep his soul here until Ladybug defeats the akuma.” 

“His s-soul?” Nino stuttered over the word, his desperate sobs now coming in torrents. 

His fucking soul? What was Nino supposed to do with that? It was too big and too much, and Nino didn’t know how to wrap his head around any of it. 

“P-please, Dri,” Nino begged, his voice cracking on the nickname. “P-please, don’t leave me.”

Nino’s arms kept the rhythm, never losing the pace. Even transformed, his shoulders and triceps were burning in protest, but Nino ignored it. Wayzz would provide all the endurance he needed.

The sound of shattering glass exploded overhead, spiderweb cracks spreading all across the dome.

“Fuck.”

The shield couldn’t take another hit. 

“Lose the transformation,” Plagg ordered.

Nino’s eyes whipped toward the cat kwami. “What?! Plagg! I don’t know how long I can do this without enhanced strength.”

“I will destroy anything that gets through until Wayzz has another shield up. You can’t do CPR and replenish our defenses over and over, simultaneously.”

“But… doesn’t a kwami using his power by himself make bad things happen?” ” Carapace objected out of habit, not because he particularly cared at the moment. Nino had never had the opportunity to see Wayzz without the limits of the miraculous. 

“Something bad has already happened! This is called damage control! We don’t have time to argue!”

Another splintering crack overhead seemed to punctuate Plagg’s point.

“Wayzz, shell off,” Carapace whispered. 

Immediately, his arms and back burned more intensely with the loss of the miraculous’s support, and Nino grunted with effort.

But he wouldn’t stop - not now, not ever. This was Adrien and he didn’t care if his arms fell off. He wasn’t going to give up on him.

“Cataclysm!” Plagg shouted, flying rapidly out of Nino’s line of sight. He didn’t worry about how much of the city block Plagg might take with him in destroying the incoming missiles, trusting the kwami would direct the damage AWAY from them. He didn’t worry about anyone being able to see his or Adrien’s identity. There was so much smoke that it wasn’t possible. And Nino didn’t worry about the fact that they were exposed or vulnerable. 

Adrien was already dead. If they got hit, then at least they’d go together.

Black ash rained down around them like some kind of ominous snow.

“Opaque Shelter!” Wayzz called half a second after. 

With the shield in place, Plagg whipped back down to Adrien’s shoulder watching intently. 

“Come on, Pigtails,” Plagg grumbled. “We’re running out of time.” 

Nino’s right arm spasmed in that moment, and he wasn’t sure if it was fatigue or the rising panic caused by Plagg’s words. 

“No! We can’t be out of time!” Nino screamed as if Plagg could control when Adrien’s soul was gone. Nino wiped his snot on his own shoulder, and turned his glare on Adrien’s face. “Do you hear me, Dri?!” Nino screamed, unable to wipe the tears dripping from his eyes over his nose to fall on his own now bare hands. “You can’t give up on me! You can’t!”

This wouldn’t be Adrien’s last day on Earth.

It couldn’t be. 

Because Nino didn’t know how to face the world without his best friend.

…

Adrien’s entire existence was pain. Everything was on fire - from the top of his head, through his body, to the tips of his fingers. All of it was pulsing in an agonizing rhythm. He thought the internal inferno centered on his chest, but his back felt like he had landed in a pool filled with glass shards. He couldn’t feel his legs at all, which considering how everything else was fairing, might have been a blessing. 

But it was his chest that cried out as it was struck again and again without care for his fractured ribs. 

Stop, he tried to say, begged from every inch of his mind. But the words would not form on his lips. Please, just let it end.

But the hammers to his chest kept coming, relentless and never ending. He urged his arms to action - to move, but every last bit of strength had been sapped away.

He prayed that it had been worth it - that Ladybug was alive and well - able to defeat the akuma without him. 

But his condition suggested otherwise. If Ladybug was okay, he would be too. 

Someone was crying hysterically just above him, well on their way to screaming. Their voice was broken and raspy.

It wasn’t Ladybug - the tone was too deep - but it struck a chord in him. He wanted to soothe it just the same.

I’ve survived worse, he wanted to tell the voice, though he had serious doubts if that was true. But being erased from the time continuum had to be worse, right?

“Dri?”

That was Nino. Adrien could only moan in response. 

“Shit! Plagg, I think he’s awake.” 

Why was Nino talking to Plagg? Plagg knew better.

“Don’t you dare stop!” his kwami ordered.

No. Please stop. It only came out as a whimper. 

Something hot and wet fell onto his cheek. “I’m so sorry, du-” Nino’s voice cracked before he finished the word. 

Nino was crying.

Adrien had made Nino cry. He hated that.

Adrien opened his eyes only to be assaulted with hard edges and burning lights that were far too bright. None of it made sense. He slammed them shut again, but it didn’t help. His head still wanted to split into halves.

“Dude! Take it easy!”

A warmth settled on his shoulder. Soothing vibrations pulsed through his neck. Like a cat’s purr. 

Plagg? 

“I know it hurts, kitten.” 

Adrien would have laughed had he been able. Hurt did not begin to describe the agony he was in. 

“But you will survive.”

The painful beat on his chest - so hard, so deep - like a stampede of gazelles were trampling over him - continued. It never stopped. 

Adrien wasn’t sure he wanted to survive.

The sobs from the boy above him - deep cries of pure despair - made him reconsider. Adrien would survive anything - go through any torture - to soothe Nino’s pain.

Mercifully, everything faded.

When Adrien woke up again it was to a miraculously pain-free world. He sighed, his whole body easing in relaxation. The memory of his torture was already fading fast. 

He opened his eyes again, but he still couldn’t bring the world into focus. There was a flash of green light of a miraculous transformation, but it was too bright. And Adrien let his eyes fall closed again. 

He pressed his hands down for balance, expecting to find debris and jagged fragments on the sidewalk below him. But the cold ground was smooth and undamaged. His hands were bare - he wasn’t transformed. He should have been transformed, shouldn’t he? They had been fighting an akuma.

The ladybugs had healed everything. But then, why did his head still feel like thick fog? 

“Dude! Can you hear me?” 

He wetted his lips. “Nino?” Adrien asked, recognizing the voice.

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah, it’s me, dude. Can you sit up?”

Adrien attempted to do so, and was surprised at how hesitant his muscles were to respond to his wishes. He managed to prop himself up with Nino was bracing him on both sides. Adrien leaned into the support. What was wrong with his body?

“Why?” The word came out slowly, as if Adrien’s mouth was just remembering how to form the sounds. “Why... is the world spinning?” 

Adrien wasn’t often one to complain, but usually, the ladybugs did a way better job.

“You sure he’s okay now?” Nino was asking. But who was he talking to? “Should I take him to a hospital?”

“He’s fine. The ladybugs healed him. The hospital wouldn’t know what to do with him now.”

Was that Plagg? Why was Plagg talking to Nino? Plagg should know better. Adrien clutched the sides of his head, in both hands. Why did nothing make sense?

But the nasally voice continued. “He wasn’t completely gone yet, so they could heal him. He’s physically fine now. Good job, turtle boy.”

“What about mentally?” Nino asked. 

Adrien squeezed his eyes closed. They weren’t helping him anyway, only making him dizzy. 

“You worry too much. He just needs twelve hours of sleep. He’ll be as perfect as a freshly opened wheel of camembert.”

Adrien snorted out a laugh. And it was surprisingly painless. He found himself smiling sleepily, and leaning into Nino’s chest, which felt a lot… more solid than normal.

“We don’t normally need twelve hours of sleep after a Miraculous Ladybug.” Nino’s voice was hard with frustration. “What’s different?”

“The difference is he died!” Plagg snapped back.

Adrien wanted to ask about that. What was the big deal? He had died countless times before, and it had never mattered before.

But the conversation faded away.

He woke again when he was laid down gently into his own bed. A heavy hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly. There was a beeping sound. A phone. And the hand disappeared. 

Adrien whimpered at it’s loss. 

“Yeah?” a familiar voice answered. It was still Nino. “LB, calm down. He’s okay. I took him home before anyone could see who he was. Plagg says he’ll be coherent again in twelve hours. I’ll tell him you want to see him for patrol tomorrow?”

And now Nino was talking to Ladybug like they knew each other well. It was like his worlds had smashed together like a meteor crashing onto the Earth’s surface and Adrien had somehow managed to sleep through the world ending collision. 

Was any of this real? Was he dreaming? 

He tried to sit up, but Nino’s sudden hand on his chest kept him down. Plagg curled up on his shoulder and started purring. Adrien stopped resisting and stayed down. 

“Yes, he was healed,” Nino said. “I don’t know. Plagg said it was normal for him to be out of it for a while even with the ladybugs because of… how badly he was hurt.” 

There was another pause, as the person on the other side of the conversation - presumably Ladybug - responded. 

“I promise he’s okay. Yeah… of course. I’ll be right there.” And the comforting weight on his chest vanished. 

“Plagg?” Nino called. “Can you let him know that he has a patrol with Ladybug tomorrow at the normal time? I gotta run.”

Adrien’s chest tightened at that announcement. 

“You’ll call me if anything changes?” Nino continued.

“Sure, kid,” Plagg said, still curled up on Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien tried to sit up again, but his body wasn’t listening to his brain. “N-Ni…no?” he forced the name past his lips. Why was it so hard to speak? 

The smooth gloved hand was on his chest again, easing his anxiety. “Just rest, mec.”

But the hand disappeared again too fast and too soon. 

“D-don’t… g-go,” Adrien managed to string together. 

The comforting presence came back, and this time Adrien pinned Nino’s arm to his chest with both his hands, determined to keep him there this time. “Okay,” Nino reassured, and slid into the bed lying prone alongside him. Adrien’s body finally melted in relief. 

“I’ll stay until you go to sleep,” Nino said.

For a beautiful moment all the tension in his body seeped away, and he just let himself drift. But a few seconds later, he processed Nino’s words and his eyes shot open.

Because Adrien didn’t want to sleep. Something was clearly wrong. He looked frantically around at the walls, ceiling, and furniture. Adrien recognized none of it. There were too many lights and colors and none of it made any sense, and it felt like the walls were closing in on him. What the hell was wrong with him? 

“N-Nino?” Adrien called, his eyes burned and his throat was closing off. “W-what…?” but he couldn’t get the rest of the words out. And it was hard not to panic. His breathing quickened, and his heart took off like there was a race to be won. 

He sucked in air frantically, because he wasn’t getting any. His chest spasmed painfully, and his arms were shaking, and his fingers tingling. The tremors spread to his extremities, the numbness only a second behind. He tried to stop the convulsing, he tried to hold it still, but he couldn’t do it. The pinpricks spread to his head, and his vision spun worse than it already was. 

“Dude!” Nino jumped in, clutching Adrien’s head in either hand. His hands were gloved and hard.��

Was it really Nino? It didn’t feel like Nino, and Adrien didn’t trust his eyes that were incapable of making sense of anything at the moment. 

“You need to stay calm. Breathe with me,” Nino said, their foreheads pressed together, but Nino was wearing some kind of hood - it was hard… like Chat Noir’s armor.

“Dri!” 

The exclamation cut through all of Adrien’s panicked thoughts. That was definitely Nino. Whatever he physically felt like, no one else called Adrien that. Nino had come up with the diminutive nickname a few years ago, shortly after he had broken up with Alya. He didn’t use it often - it was usually dude, mec, man, guy, but in the quiet moments, Nino would call him Dri. And Adrien loved it, especially when Nino was the one saying it.

“Can you do that, Dri? Breathe in slowly.” 

And Adrien trusted Nino more than anyone, except maybe Ladybug, and even then, he thought it might be a tie.

And so he listened. He breathed in deeply and slowly on a count of four before letting it back out again for another slow count of four from his best friend. 

His panic gradually receded. And he just lay there keeping his eyes closed, his hand clinging onto Nino’s - when had he even grabbed Nino’s hand - as if his life depended on it. 

Nino was still wearing the thick solid gloves. 

Nino didn’t wear gloves. Not ever. 

“What happened?” Adrien asked slowly, pleased that the words strung together fully and clearly. 

Nino’s grip tightened. “I promise I’ll explain it to you later, Kit-Kat. Plagg says you need rest.”

Had Nino just called him Kit-Kat?

“Plagg always…” Was he seriously talking about Plagg with Nino? This had to be a dream. “Plagg always votes-” Adrien’s sentence was punctuated by a yawn, “-for laziness.”

“I think Plagg may be onto something this time,” Nino said.

Adrien wanted to argue. He hated it when people didn’t explain things. When people kept secrets. And he knew he was the biggest hypocrite on that front, but he would have told Nino everything years ago if it had been his choice.

But his head was growing heavy, and his thoughts were still smothered in a muggy fog, so he didn’t protest.

“I love you, Dri,” Nino whispered. “You have no idea how much. Please. Please, don’t ever do that to me again.”

I love you, too.

…

Chapter 4: Fallout

[cesabutterflywrites]

Prince in the Storm: Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have. Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities. As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny. Ao3

Word Count:  6129

Chapter Warnings: none

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Roman woke up with his head at the foot of his bed, hugging his pillow, and his notebook open on the floor. He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember dreaming. He definitely didn’t remember why he had drool stuck to his cheek. He rolled over to shut off his alarm on his nightstand. That's when it dawned on him. 

He didn't remember dreaming. 

He shot upwards. His heart was pounding. Was this a sign? Were he and Virgil on the right path? He hadn't believed that mumbo jumbo about Soulmate Magic and dreams when Joan told him in the beginning of the school year. When Roman talked about his weird nightmare that Virgil had started to play a small role in. Was that only 6 weeks ago? 

But why would they stop when he finally felt comfortable around Virgil? What did it all mean? He really needed to ask Joan for those articles again. Maybe they weren’t mystical mumbo jumbo after all. He should have been paying more attention to them when he was obsessing over the nightmares in the beginning of the school year. After all, internet articles weren’t always unreliable sources, right? 

Roman sat at his vanity mirror. His reflection had changed from what he’d been seeing for the past two weeks. He looked brighter. It was like the depressive haze since their first kiss was thinning. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. His eyes looked crinkled from the wide smile on his face as he gazed into his reflection’s eyes. 

Humming a tune from Tangled, Roman combed through his hair. Linda didn't seem up to her usual antics. That rebellious strand of hair was actually laying down with the rest of his hairdo. 

He looked...good. Not quite like his old self. This confidence was  more...genuine. Happiness looked good on him. Is this what other people saw in him when he walked through the halls? A young man who just radiated the energy of sunny attraction? Or was this a new sight in general? Was he seeing himself clearly, or for the first time? 

His hair was caught in a beam of early morning sunlight, bringing out the strands of gold and red that only appeared in the purest of lighting. He resisted the urge to blink as he inspected his eyes. Had the golden brown always been so rich? Was the sun just in a good spot in the sky shining through his window, or was he finally seeing himself the way he’s wanted to since he was a child? 

Closing his eyes, Roman took in a deep inhale through his nose. He tried to  remember that stormy night when Patton spoke with an anxious Virgil. Smell the rose? 

He opened his eyes on the exhale. The morning so far tasted sweet to him. A beginning. A fresh start. 

With bold proclamation, he recited his affirmations to his reflection. He sang 

them to the tune he’d been using since he first came up with them in the eighth grade.

“ I am pretty

I am a star

I am an artist

I am perfect

I am a prince ”

When he had first written those affirmations down, Joan teased him because he used ‘Prince’ instead of ‘King’, like his last name. Roman explained it to them as best as he could. Princes were at the beginning of their journeys. Princes got to perform, they got to explore. He told Joan all those years ago that he’d change it to King when he was older and had enough life experiences under his belt. Or when he was ready to settle down with his true love.

Roman sighed as he remembered that day while getting dressed. He wondered if Joan actually did understand, or if they had just nodded to get him to shut up. 

No, that wasn’t true. Joan was the only person who understood him. Even though by now Joan had probably forgotten about the affirmations. They didn't know he still did them five years later. It wasn’t something that really had a place in everyday conversation. 

Half an hour later, Roman was pulling up to the student parking lot earlier than usual. That’s what happens when one gets decent sleep , he supposed. There were a few students milling about. The air was getting crisper. The summer humidity had changed to a fall humidity (the difference only noticeable to a long time resident of Parkwill, of course). Roman was glad he had decided to leave his jacket at home. Any rain that came wouldn’t be too bad. It would probably be more misty than anything. 

He made his way to his first class on the second floor, English with an old man named Mr. Richardson. He needed to ask for an extension on his essay. He had been ignoring most of his homework in his depression since Virgil kissed him. He wondered how he’d be feeling after their date. Would he be in such a joyous high that he’d continue to ignore his studies? It was a worry for him. His deal with his parents was good grades as a trade for continuing theater. Briefly he considered even telling his mom that he had a date tonight. 

Roman paused in the doorway of the classroom as the realization hit him. He was going on a date. A date! He was going to be taking Virgil on a date. That Virgil initiated! Virgil, distant Virgil, handsome Virgil, with a mouth that tasted like the heat of a summer bonfire and lips that felt like plug outlets. 

Roman felt tears prick at his vision. Happy ones. Virgil had asked him on a date. Did this mean they were ready to move forward? No more nightmares?

No, he wouldn’t get his hopes up yet. He needed to go slowly. He had always planned from the beginning that his soulmate would be the one to reveal himself, or Roman would after he was done with his travels. When he was ready to settle down. Also, just because Virgil wanted to go on a date, it didn't mean they were ready to jump into the thick of it. Roman needed to be patient. 

Patience is a virtue, but I’m not a freaking nun or anything, Roman thought  as he walked down the hallway.

Roman walked into the room with a strange feeling of electricity dancing over his arms. He looked at the desk his English teacher usually sat in during the morning. Instead of Mr. Richardson, though, there was his favorite teacher and a man he had only seen twice before, but had never been introduced to. 

“Oh, Roman, you’re a bit early, aren’t you?” Mr. D asked. What was that look on his face? He was...smiling. He only did that when he was looking forward to something special. 

“Uh, yeah, I got decent sleep.” Roman was eyeing the two men. He couldn’t help but feel off-kilter as the sparks continued shooting up his arms. 

“Good, good.” The drama teacher patted Roman’s shoulder absently. “By the way, no rehearsal tonight. We all need a night to relax and regroup, right?” 

Roman nodded. He knew that the teacher was implying something, but he didn’t know what it was exactly until he spoke up. 

“Wow, Princey, you always look this good?” a gruff voice called from the back of the classroom. 

That explained the weird feeling in his arms. “Oh, hi, Virgil!” He ran his hand on the back of his head, which most likely would wake Linda from her slumber. “Sorry I didn’t see you there...in the shadows.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes as he walked forward. “Whatever, I’ll see you later.” 

Then he did something Roman didn’t expect. Virgil embraced him, not even minding the awkwardness of the backpacks they both wore, and then kissed his cheek. 

“See you at lunch, Roman.” Virgil winked at him before he left. 

Roman was frozen from the weird pain/not pain feeling in his abdomen. He jumped at the sound of Mr. D chuckling. 

“That’s the action I want to see from you when we get back to rehearsals. Pull on that feeling okay?” The theater teacher pat Roman on the shoulder again as he walked out. 

Roman stared at the superintendent, who was grinning like he had just won a goldfish- or a freaking puppy-at the fairgrounds. What was that all about? Virgil must be scheming something, and the superintendent looks like he’s expecting something from me. 

Roman did what he did best, he played it off cool before he died of stage fright. 

“How rude of him not to introduce me to you, I’m Roman. Roman King.” Roman stuck his hand out politely. He hid his relief that the buzzing had stopped vibrating on his skin. 

“Yes, of course, my nephew hasn’t always had the best manners.” The man shook Roman’s hand. “But that’s why you like him, isn’t it?” 

Roman let out one of his ‘Noble Noises’, a name that Joan gave to the sounds he couldn’t help but let out when he was at a loss for words. 

“Wh- I- ha-”

“Relax, Roman.” Thomas chuckled. “Mr. Richardson is going to be out for the week. Due to the lack of-” he clenched his jaw- “stability in this school, Principal Duke hasn’t set up any substitute teachers to be on our call list. I could have had other teachers work on their off periods to cover the class, but I have free time.” 

“Isn’t being a substitute a bit below your paygrade?” Roman asked without thinking. 

“I was a sub before I was anything else.” Thomas held his arm out to direct Roman to take his seat. 

 A group of students wandered in as the bell rang. Mr. Sanders smiled warmly at Roman. A bit too nice, as if he knew a big secret. 

Jeesh, was Roman getting too paranoid for his own good? Or was he getting his hopes up? 

Roman made his way to his desk, excited to see how the Superintendent of the entire district would teach. He knew that Mr. Sanders was taking the fall semester to exclusively monitor how Kingston High was improving, but he didn’t know that he’d be this involved. His reputation for caring about education seemed to hold more truth to it than Roman thought. Hopefully it meant that he'd leave the drama department alone. 

The second bell rang. Mr. Sanders walked up in front of the whiteboard to write down his name. Not that he needed to, he did just introduce himself to the entire school just a short time ago. 

Roman pulled out his English notebook. He was sure that Mr. Sanders would make them continue their assignments. Mr. Richardson had them working on learning about the various types of essay formats. The unit was difficult, especially since he wanted them to do three different essays in different formats as a way to show how well they understood. 

Mr. Sanders’ demeanor had changed now that he was in front of the classroom. Roman recognized that shift. It was the type of body stance that actors took right before getting into character. The tension in his stance to fend off the stage fright. 

“Hello class,” Mr.  Sanders greeted. He sounded like a car salesman rather than a substitute teacher. “Mr. Richardson will be out for a week. I will be your teacher while he is gone.” 

He turned on his heel to the whiteboard. He wrote out a phrase on the whiteboard: 

“Soulmate Magic: Myth or Fact?”

Roman felt himself about to choke on his own spit. He hated the Universe sometimes. He had just been wondering about that this morning. 

“Who here believes in Soulmate Magic?” Mr. Sanders asked the class while he drew out a chart of some sort on the whiteboard. 

Roman felt his arm lift up without his permission. He hurriedly looked around the rest of the classroom. There were a few students also looking around with their hands in the air too. One guy in the back of the class was chuckling to himself. 

“Mr. Flannigan, what’s so funny?” Mr. Sanders asked as he turned around. 

The boy shrugged, causing his bulky headphones to shift on his leather jacket. “This is English class in high school ,” he emphasized with a sneer. “You can’t expect us to believe that fairytale bullshit.” 

Roman and the others had put their arms down by then. If he had been asked this before meeting Virgil, he would have been on the fence. However, since the first day of school there were just too many coincidences and feelings and experiences he had noticed. After all, he did start believing the Dream Theory enough to go with Virgil to his house when they had barely known each other...and also kiss him that next morning. 

Mr. Sanders didn’t even acknowledge the cuss word from the bold student. He looked amused. “I take it the rest of you feel this way too?” 

The class all seemed to  shift uncomfortably. Gabrielle, the girl who sat behind Roman, spoke up first. “It’s not that I think it’s bull, it just feels like something we say to kids.” 

“Oh? Then do you know why Markings exist?” The Superintendent looked like he was holding information no one else had. Roman had a heavy feeling in his stomach at that look. His smirk was an older version of Virgil’s. 

Gabrielle frowned. “No one does. They’ve been around forever. They’re just...something that’s natural.” 

“Would you be willing to argue that point as passionately as Mr. Flannigan in the back?” Mr. Sanders asked. 

Gabrielle blushed and looked down at her desk as a few kids snickered. “Well, maybe, I don’t know.” 

Mr. Sanders went back to the whiteboard and labeled the columns he had drawn out. On the left he had written “Myth”. On the other side he had written “Fact”. Underneath “Fact” he started writing the names of some of the students who had their hands raised earlier. Roman felt sweat start to form on his forehead as his name was written in the “Fact” section. 

As he wrote, Mr. Sanders spoke. “Your teacher was doing a unit on the different types of essays in academia. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the traditional thesis statement. For the first half next week you’ll be spending class time working in groups on finding research online supporting your side of the argument. We’ll spend one day in the school library looking for books as sources too. Then the second half of the week you’ll each write your own essay about why you think Soulmate Magic is or isn’t real.” 

Roman sighed. Could he use personal experience as his only source? 

Mr. Sanders had finished writing their names on the board. He uncapped a pink marker. He looked behind him at the class and asked. “Who here has met their soulmate yet?” 

Roman gulped. He didn’t want to jump the gun. There was still a chance he was being set up for disappointment despite the other ‘signs’. Maybe this project would help him find the truth-or as close as he can get-about what the hell was going on with Virgil without actually talking about it. Obviously he'd need better sources than Buzzfeed's 'Six Signs You've Found Your Soulmate' article he had seen floating around. 

Mr. Sanders put a pink asterisk next to the names of the students who had found their soulmates. There were a few on each side of the chart. Roman felt a lump in his throat. There were more people who found their soulmates while young than he had thought. That didn't help with the whole "not getting his hopes up about his career" thing. 

They spent the rest of the class being assigned to their study groups. They were sorted into groups of four. Roman was assigned to work with Marissa Falcon, Andrew Harrison, and Mercy Fenton. They had changed their seating to make sure they were all sitting together. They had moved their desks to face each other close to the door. 

Marissa was definitely excited about this project. Her tight red curls bounced around her face even when she was still. She was one of the students with a pink asterisk next to her name on the board. The only one in their group, actually. Meaning that she had already found her soulmate. 

“So, putting aside the weirdness of the superintendent of the entire school district being here, can we just talk about how cool it is to learn about this?! Much better than what the old man was doing.” Her voice reminded Roman of bubblegum and the color pink. She was excitable, bright, and definitely had the glow of someone who considered herself an expert. 

Roman was just glad he wouldn’t have to take the lead on the project. Maybe working with someone his age who had already found their soulmate would help him out with his personal life as well as give him an edge on his essay. The other two in the group barely participated in the rest of the conversation. He got the feeling that Marissa and he were the ones who were going to take the assignment seriously. 

It was too soon that the bell rang for his next class. Disappointed, Roman packed his backpack. He waved goodbye to the substitute. Mr. Sanders gave him a smile in return as he pulled aside Gary Flannigan. Probably to talk to him about the cussing earlier in class.

Roman went to his next class. Thinking to himself, I hope this is a sign I’m on the right path with Virgil .

-------

“Jeez, Talyn, don’t tug my hair so hard!” Virgil griped. He was trying not to flinch as Talyn precariously combed the dye through his hair. 

“Well, do you want me to be thorough or no?” They responded tersely. They were trying - unsuccessfully - to hide their smile at Virgil’s pain and suffering.

“Remind me to never let you dye my hair in a bad mood, Talyn” Joan snarked as they read a book at Virgil’s desk. The Chrome Borne was the title that Virgil caught. 

It was weird, Virgil admitted to himself, to have his maybe-boyfriend’s best friend hanging out with him without Roman being there. Not bad, just weird. It made Virgil a little annoyed that he couldn’t have one on one time with Talyn as much anymore. Still, Joan was fun to have around. They were able to keep Talyn from smacking Virgil upside the head quite a few times. 

“Don’t make me flick some of this on your stupid face,” Talyn muttered so only Virgil could hear. 

“Why are you being so rough with my precious head? I don’t need a concussion on my first real date, Tal.” Virgil winced as Talyn purposefully tugged on his bangs. 

“You can’t get a concussion from hair pulling, smartass.” Talyn responded sweetly. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll give me more time to prepare to do this. I know I’m magic but I’m no miracle worker.” 

“Not my fault I’ve been busy!” he whined. “You don’t want me to fail classes do you?”

Talyn huffed as they clipped up the section they had finished. Their movements were more gentle now. “No. You need all the help you can get.” 

“What does hair dye have to do with failing classes?” Joan asked. They set down their book and spun in the desk chair to face Virgil. 

“Virgie has finally decided to take school seriously. So he’s gotta learn how to do homework for the first time.” Talyn was starting to trail off as they poured their focus where it should have been - making sure Virgil’s hair dye wasn’t fucked up. 

He rolled his eyes. “What they mean to say is that Mr. Charles has been helping me after school twice a week to get my homework done. I’m in a stupid deal for the first half of the semester to actually try to be a good student.” 

Joan’s eyebrows raised. “Never took you for a hard worker, no offense.” 

“None taken, neither did I.” Virgil grinned. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

Joan made a show of rolling their eyes and groaning. “How dare you burden me with trying to find answers to the universe?” They put their wrist against their forehead and leaned over the side of the spinning chair. “It’s so hard being an oracle. Haven’t you heard of google?” 

Virgil and Talyn snickered. “I see where Princey gets his theatrics,” he remarked. 

Joan immediately shot up, leaning their elbows on their knees and looking at Virgil with mighty curiosity. “Why do you call him Princey? His name is King.” 

Virgil shrugged impulsively, causing Talyn to flick him for moving. “I dunno. It slipped out one day and kinda stuck.” There was more to it than that, but there was no way he was going to give that information to Roman’s right hand. 

“It’s just kinda funny to me,” Joan’s eyes looked lost in thought, “That you’d choose a nickname for him based off of his affirmations.” 

“Roman does affirmations?” Virgil asked, surprised. “Isn’t that for people who don’t like themselves or something?” 

Joan frowned at Virgil, and in a reprimanding tone said, “Not necessarily. Sometimes people do it to control how they view themselves. Sometimes it’s to remind them of their goals.” Joan sounded sad when they added softly, “Besides...Roman doesn’t exactly have a very high view of himself. He probably doesn't even know that I remember he made affirmations all those years ago."

Virgil snorted. “The guy’s got an ego the size of the Chrysler Building.” 

Talyn paused their work and shared a look with Joan. Joan shifted in the seat, looking down. Their voice a near whisper, “Not really. He’s just a good actor, ya know?” 

Oh. 

“I get it now,” Virgil looked down as Talyn pushed his head forward. “He did seem really...hollow...after something-” 

“I know what happened, Virge, you don’t need to go into it.” Joan didn’t sound like they had fake disinterest. They truly weren’t digging for information and wanted to respect Virgil’s privacy.  

Remembering that fuck-up was hard for Virgil. It was still so fresh in his mind. “No, it’s okay, I want you to know my side.” 

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement. He told Joan about Roman meeting him on the bus, their walk home, the panic attack, the family dinner, Roman spending the night, the morning, the kiss, him running away, and the talk with Uncle Thomas. 

Joan helped fill in some blanks for him, too. He heard about how Roman had been so distraught when he visited their house right after. Joan mentioned something about a song, which led into the trio getting sidetracked into Joan’s history of creating with Roman. It was nice hearing stories about Theater Camp. Hearing about Roman’s softer side was way better than hearing constant praise from people who barely knew him. 

“So, what was your original question?” Talyn nudged while they put the shower cap on Virgil’s head. 

Virgil thought for a moment. What was the question he had? 

“Oh! Right! Hey Joan,” Virgil reached for his phone in the pocket from his jeans. “Could you tell me if Roman would like this surprise idea that I have?” 

Joan took the phone that they were handed. Their face slowly grew more mischievous and they were laughing a creepy, sinister laugh by the time they were done with it. “Yes, yes he will love this.” 

“Really?” Virgil asked as he stood up to stretch his legs. “I hope he’ll understand what I’m trying to say.” 

Joan bit their lip in thought. Talyn sat on their lap in the small rolling chair, which creaked under the weight of them. Virgil just sat on his bed while waiting for their response. 

“I think,” Joan started in a more serious tone, “that it’s a sweet idea. He’s always said that he didn’t want to know his soulmate before he was ready with an established career.

“But I don’t know, he’s changed a lot in the past two months. He may not be willing to commit to it no matter what you say. He’s been down pretty bad, Virge.” Joan started rubbing their finger up and down Talyn’s forearm while swaying back and forth. “I say, go for it. You’ve got most of it all planned out. I will say that if you go through with this, maybe prepare yourself for him to not be understanding of what you’re asking for. Because it is a lot.” 

Virgil nodded slowly. “I’ll see how the date goes tonight. I don’t really wanna jump the gun, you know?” 

Talyn got up to sit next to Virgil and rub his shoulder. “Your date is going to go fine. You already know he’s in love with you. You’ve just gotta clear the air on some things. This is a time for honesty.” 

“And really, this surprise you’ve planned out, Virgil?” Joan giggled. “I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure this happens.” 

“Yeah, watching you two dance around each other is better than any soap opera.” Talyn agreed. 

The trio talked for a bit more before the timer on Talyn’s phone went off for Virgil to rinse out his hair. He rushed to the shower so he could be ready on time for his date.

Virgil was in the shower rinsing his hair when it hit him. Roman would be going on a date with him. It wouldn’t be just a normal date, though, but a chance for Virgil to be vulnerable about everything. He needed to come clean about his side of what happened. Especially hearing about how Roman was so empty after that first kiss. 

The water was cold, which normally didn’t bother Virgil, but he found himself shivering at the thought of hurting Roman again. Was he ready to try? What if he was just doing this to make himself feel better? What if, when he explained himself, Roman thought he was toxic? What if Roman just couldn’t be with someone who won’t reveal their Marking? What if he fucked up again ? What if he can't open up after all? 

Once the water was running clear in the tub, Virgil stepped out to dry his hair off with his “Trash Towel”. It’s the towel he used when his hair was freshly dyed. He didn’t want to ruin a bunch of different ones with leaky hair. This was a white towel with stains of all the different hair colors he had done over time. He probably should have replaced it long ago, but that meant ruining another towel again.

The sound of the hair dryer wasn’t enough to drown out his thoughts. His fingers felt numb as he worked on his hair. Once that was done he returned to his room to get dressed. Talyn and Joan were downstairs. It sounded like his dad was home and talking to them. That was good. He needed some time to gather himself for what he was about to do. 

He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he didn’t want to look like he didn’t care either. He wondered if Roman would be dressed up all fancy for their first date. No doubt the boy was at his house fretting over what he’d wear. That image of Roman freaking out over what he’d be wearing comforted Virgil a bit. 

Virgil was glad that Mr. D had agreed to cancel the club meeting for that night. He was a weird teacher. He kept his distance but it was obvious he cared deeply about his students, especially Roman. The few times Virgil talked to the mysterious teacher, he always held a fond sparkle in his eye when Roman came up in conversation. It was really cool of him to give special treatment, and as Virgil changed he figured that Roman must be really special to his teacher. Which was good, considering that he needed Mr. D’s help with his surprise later on if his date went well.

After Virgil was mostly satisfied with his appearance, he went downstairs to see that it wasn’t just his dad who was home. 

Logan was sitting on his couch, with his arm over Patton’s shoulders. Patton leaned into Logan like he was relaxing after a long day. They were talking to Joan and Talyn. The four of them were laughing at something his dad must have said. Virgil felt his chest start to warm. It was such a natural sight, except for the empty loveseat in the corner. It was easy to see himself laughing along with them, with Roman’s head on his lap as they talked. 

Hope swelled within him. Could it be that he could make this work? Maybe he wasn’t going to fuck up after all. 

He walked into the room. His dad saw him and stood up to meet him. “You look so handsome, kiddo!" he squealed. The pride was so evident on his face. “My baby’s first date! So exciting.” 

Virgil pretended to frown. “C’moooon dad. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.” He tried to not laugh. 

Talyn stood up, playing along by stomping their feet. “Young man, I worked way too hard to make your hair perfect. The least you could do is let your dad take pictures of my masterpiece.” 

Virgil lost his composure by then. Talyn calling him ‘young man’ was just the cherry on top. “Sure, go ahead!” he called out through his hysterical laughter.

Logan spoke up, nervously grinning. “I have my camera in my car. It would produce a better quality for pictures than our phones.” 

“Need some help?” Joan asked excitedly. They didn’t wait for an answer as they made their way to the door. Logan just chuckled to himself as he left after the excited teenager. 

“Talyn, don’t tell me your soulmate is a photography nerd! You hate taking pictures of yourself.” Virgil teased. 

“Shut up,” Talyn grumbled, though their grin was noticeable. “Joan’s only got a passing interest in it. They haven’t asked me to be their muse or anything.” 

Patton chuckled. “Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Artists are very serious about their work.” 

“Dad, have you been modeling on the side?” Virgil asked. He wasn't teasing, but genuinely curious. That hadn't talked bunch about Logan or the galaxy tattoo since that fight. 

Logan had walked back in by then and made his way to Patton. “Your father has a very symmetrical face, and when he smiles I want to keep it with me forever.” He kissed Patton’s suddenly red cheek. 

Virgil noticed the way his dad stiffened as he waited for Virgil to react. It was weird to see another man lovingly touch his dad. He faked a reassuring smile to the pair. He didn’t want to think about the prickling in the back of his head. He needed to get used to Logan being around in a more casual manner. He'd have to get used to the fact that Logan was here to stay. 

He made sure to put all of his focus into watching Talyn and Joan from there on out. He tried not to blink when the camera flashed in his eyes. He fought within himself to keep that earlier hopeful feeling from flying away from him. He wouldn’t let his pessimism win. 

This night was about coming clean. It was about asking for forgiveness, giving context, and taking his next step to be a better man. It was about searching for compromise in good faith. It was for finding faith in the opportunity for fresh starts. After tonight, he’d be able to see a brighter future for himself. 

It was when they were still taking pictures that there was a knock at the front door. Talyn let out a squeal that seemed out of character. Virgil raised his eyebrow at them, which welcomed another click, flash! from the camera. He walked away from the staircase to open the door. 

His forearms felt like he was being pricked by static shocks all over when he saw Roman standing there, the beginning sunset behind him looking like something out of a movie. Virgil was speechless. He couldn’t think of anything flirty or sarcastic to say. Had it only been at lunch period that day he last saw Roman? He looked like royalty. 

Roman had his hair combed back. It was a bit longer since he hadn’t gotten it cut, so his hair had some flow to it. He had worn a long sleeve button up with black slacks. The shirt was a deep red color, bringing out the hazel eyes and white teeth. He was wearing a small bit of brown eyeliner and mascara, nothing obvious, but enough to bring out the features of his face. The rosey blush that Virgil loved so much was starting to form the longer he stared. 

“Um, I didn’t know where we were going, so I figured I’d make myself look nice.” Roman looked Virgil up and down. “I’m glad to know we had the same idea.” 

Virgil looked down at what he was wearing. He had chosen his only pair of slacks -a gray pair that his grandmother got him for his birthday - and a deep wine-purple button up. He had chosen a dark gray necktie with black stitching to look like spiderwebs. Just to keep a little bit of his dark personality obvious so he wouldn’t feel completely out of his depth. 

“Oh, right, yeah.” He responded lamely. His voice cracked and he felt like he wanted to shrivel up in embarrassment. 

“I got you this. I hope it’s not too cliché or tacky for you.” Roman handed Virgil a single black rose. It was plastic, and the stem was dark purple with glitter. It was definitely something cheesy, but Virgil smiled anyway.

“Thank you, Roman, I love it.” Virgil heard his dad clear his throat loudly. He rolled his eyes. Feeling more normal now that his bubble with Roman had burst, he swept his arm behind him. “Come in. We’re just taking pictures as if it’s fucking prom or something.” 

Roman laughed at that. “I’ll never say no to a photo op!” 

Joan and Talyn gave hugs to Roman when he was in the room. “Looking as royal as ever, your highness.” Joan remarked. 

"Wait, isn't Highness for a prince?" Virgil asked. "I always call him Majesty."

Roman chuckled. "Majesty and Highness can be either, depending on the situation. Majesty is more formal, and Highness is a sort of catch-all." 

Virgil didn't have a good response to that. He didn't know anything about royalty and all that fancy shit. He was itching to go, but automatically he pulled Roman by his waist. "Let's get our pictures done quickly, I'm starving."

Roman and Virgil took a few pictures at the bottom of the staircase. Roman didn’t seem bothered by the blinding flashes. Virgil kept his arm tight against his date’s waist. After he felt he was thoroughly blinded, he ended the photo session. “Alright, if I want to be able to see Roman’s sexy face I need the flashes to stop.” 

Roman whined behind him as he made his way to his jacket by the door. “But I wanna make sure all of my sides have been captured…” 

Virgil just ignored him. In a rush to leave, he gave hugs to everyone except Logan, and walked out the door while Roman gushed his thanks to Logan for taking pictures. 

The pair settled into their seats in Roman’s car. The silence was nice as Virgil adjusted to it after the noise of the living room. He looked at Roman nervously. He seemed relaxed. His handsomeness seemed never-ending. “Alright, Captain Cranky, you ready to go get some fancy food?” he quipped, too giddy for Virgil's own good. 

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed. “Only the best for you, your Majesty .” 

Roman chuckled. They pulled out of the driveway as Virgil plugged in the aux cord to his phone as if he had done it every day. 

By the time they arrived at Marina's, Virgil had educated Roman with every song on the Welcome to the Black Parade album. They got out of the car laughing as Roman gave the keys to the valet. 

With a warm blanket of joy between the two, they entered the restaurant to start the first part of their date. Virgil tried not to think about the nerves bundling up in his abdomen, or even consider the coincidence that his Marking was warmer than usual. 

-

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Fluff and worldbuilding? Fluff and worldbuilding.Thank you for reading and supporting this story. I didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth everywhere, but for about a year now a family member of mine was getting sicker and sicker until he passed a few weeks ago. It's been a hard time, but he's at peace now & I feel like I can refocus my life.So, we're looking at an update every other month here. I don't want to promise more or less than that. I can say that I think about this fic ALL THE TIME and I want to just publish my rough drafts of the chapters and speed through it, but I know these boys love to take their time, so I will too.I hope you have been doing well, readers, and let me know what you thought of this chapter! And maybe comment your guesses on how you think the date will go ;)also, I have a discord server join for updates, bonuses, and talk with other readers!

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@404-morality-not-found​, @k1ngtok1​, @lovelivingmydreams​

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist for my stories

[tinymiko]

Coffee and cream

Henry Cavill/ thick woman

Rough sex, swearing, road rage, one night stand lots of swearing seriously I have a filthy mouth

So this is the first time sharing here and the first fic like this I've ever written be gentle. Also it's 4:50am and I'm doing this on my phone so formatting sucks.

Coffee and cream

Henry waited in line at the Starbucks half tempted to take off the ball cap and hoody in order to rush the service. Taking a look at the crowd he quickly changed his mind, his mother always said patience was a virtue. Besides getting his coffee 2 minutes earlier wouldn’t make up for the crowd of fans who would inevitably detain him for at least thirty minutes. He loved his fans was grateful for them but sometimes he wished he could grab a cup of coffee without getting mauled.  

 

He scooted towards the rear wall hunching in on himself watching the people come through the doors enjoying watching people without them watching him. A rush of hot air blew in as the door opened again. A small woman walked in head down auburn curls swinging down to her back blocking his view of her face. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to see her face but he felt compelled to move forward eyes tracking her as she waited in line. She was striking  pale skin dark eyes, long lashes. She had small lips that seemed to be perpetually smiling. Henry moved closer. Close enough that he got a whiff of her perfume,, she smelled like coconuts and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. No heavy floral perfume or overly sweet vanilla for the little lady. Coconuts was strangely appropriate, exotic sweet like her smile.

 

He shook his head and backed up wondering just what it was about this woman that had struck him so. She was pretty no doubt but not the most beautiful he’d seen, hell not even the most beautiful in the Starbucks. She had drawn attention though, more than a few eyes followed her. It wasn’t just that she was tiny barely reaching his chest she was undoubtedly a woman, thick and full. There were no gentle slopes or subtle curves on her. No the little doll was like a mountain road, round and dangerous curves. The sharp dip of her waist almost cartoonish in comparison to the ample hips and the swell of creamy breast. She was built like a brick shit house.

 

 

Henry was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice he had moved so close to her until she bumped into him. Her little hands steadying herself on his abs and he felt his gut clench in desire at the heat of her brief touch.

 

“ I’m so sorry sir, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

 

“No I apologize, I hadn’t realized I was so close to you. I was a bit impatient for my coffee I guess.”  Henry took a deep breath when her brown eyes widened in recognition

 

 

“No worries it’s as much my fault as yours patience is a virtue I never possessed, especially not when coffee is involved. Besides it’s a hazard of being small sometimes people don’t see me down here.”

 

She smiled and then walked towards the pickup line grabbing a comically large Frappuccino. She walked back over to him handing him a grande caramel latte with Henry scrawled on the cup.

 

“I think this is you.” She told him an amused smirk on her face before she turned and walked away.

 

He stood for a moment just watching her go before chasing her out the door his long legs catching up to her quickly.

 

“ You know who I am?”

 

“ of course you’re huge dude plus a ball cap does not a disguise make.” The smirk was back on her face and Henry got the feeling she was laughing at him

 

“why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“ Because no one deserves to get attacked by fans before their first cup of coffee and you were practically crawling into your sweater trying to hide. Which is hard to do when you’re that big so kudos on that.”

 

 

Henry looked at her with disbelief before letting out a loud guffaw.

 

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

 

 

“Already got one cutie besides I gotta go to work but enjoy your coffee. Also I loved you in the Witcher the wig really does it for you or does it for me however you want to take it.”

 

 

She climbed in a black SUV with a grunt that had him smilin, why did the smallest people drive the biggest cars.

 

“wait can I buy you dinner tonight. I'm in town for a few days training with Gracie.”

 

“The ju jitsu guy?” she asked.

 

“ yeah how’d you know?”

 

“I’m Puerto Rican we’re raised on boxing and MMA well that and dominoes. Anyways I really do have to go my boss is a hard ass and I’m already  late.”

 

“wait, just can you call in. I don’t know anyone here and I’d really like to thank you for not outing me.”

 

Isabella took a deep breath. She was really trying not to freak out. Henry fucking Cavill was talking to her! Asking her to dinner her plain little Isabella Sanchez. Of course she had immediately recognized him, who wouldn’t.  She had also recognized how hard he’d tried to blend into the walls and she felt sorry for him. How hard must it be for him to do anything without being mobbed. She was still trying to decide if it was worth hearing her boss's mouth when a group of girls came out of Starbucks. Unfortunately at that same moment Henry had taken off his cap to run his hands through his hair. The girls immediately squealed and rushed towards him. Not taking the time to think Isabella unlock the doors to her Suburban and yelled for him to get in. The car shook with the force of his body jumping in the passenger side and Isabella pulled the car in reverse tires squealing while she made an illegal turn onto the highway.

 

 

“ Wow thanks! I’ve never been actually been in a car chase.”

 

 

“that was hardly a car chase.” She said smiling

 

 

“Could have fooled me.” Henry muttered loudly.

 

“I could drive you back to the fangirls.”

 

 

“ no you’re a fantastic driver I didn’t fear for my life at all.”

 

Isabella snorted. So she had a lead foot she got him out of there before he could be molested by overly caffeinated fan girls.

 

 

“ I’m Isabella by the way.”

 

She held one hand towards him while quickly changing lanes and swerving around a slow driver.

 

“maybe you should keep both hands on the wheel.” He suggested with a dry chuckle. He was also not so discreetly putting on his seat belt. Isabella rolled her eyes. With his shoulders she wasn’t sure anything short of a head on collision would even jostle him.

 

20 minutes later they were pulling into his hotel and Henry had never been more glad to see a hotel in his life. The fact that the GPS has estimated their driving time at 40 minutes instead of the 20 minutes of near flying it took may have accounted for that. Isabella was sweet and funny and scary and the craziest driver he had ever had the displeasure of riding besides. He wasn’t sure how they had survived or how she hadn’t gotten arrested. She violated more laws than he had known existed cursing in English and Spanish at anyone that didn’t drive fast enough. So anyone driving the speed limit or below. He was a bit terrified of her, turned on to and he wasn’t sure what that said about him.

 

“ come up to the room well order room service besides I think I need some Dramamine”

 

 

“You can’t complain if you didn’t die that’s the rules .”

 

“I’m not sure I could complain if I did die.”

 

She snorted at his muttered words maybe she should have taken it easy on him but honestly she loved to drive loved the speed being higher than everyone else for once it was exhilarating.  She followed him to his room half worried half horny and wondered if she should be more concerned. She didn’t usually follow strange men to their hotel rooms. He had looked so panicked when those girls spotted him she couldn’t just abandon him.  She usually had good instincts about people and hers were saying he was a good person. of course her mind was telling her instincts she was thinking with her lady bits and well her lady bits weren’t thinking at all.

They ordered sandwiches and talked while they ate. Henry found himself telling her about his childhood about his love life or recent lack of and everything in between. Isabella was surprisingly easy to talk to. She wasn’t afraid to call him on his shit or to eat with gusto and he was glad. Hollywood and their   and gluten free salads were getting old. He missed comfort foods and comfortable people.  He laughed loudly as she told him about her uncle and father nearly getting into a fist fight over a game of dominoes how her aunt had forbidden the game since the “incident “ as everyone now called. Isabella called It hilarious and was still lamenting the lack of video footage of the two men dueling with canes while cursing up a storm. ( this actually happened)

 

It was nice really nice actually. He hadn’t felt so normal in years so when she stopped talking to take a drink he kissed her. Pulling her lush little body to him until she was straddling his lap. Her hips rocking against his hardness causing him to hiss.

 

He should stop he hadn’t meant to go this far but she felt so goddamn perfect in his arms. Squirming in his lap the heat of her cunt burning him through the jeans he was wearing. Fuck it he thought for once throwing caution to the wind. He wanted this wanted her. Isabella with her kind eyes and loud laughter her crazy road rage and gusto for life. It beckoned him a sirens call that he was lost to. He had spent years playing the game enjoying the fruits of fame. Had models and actresses all long limbed lithe all the same. Henry realized as he grabbed a handful of hips that it was like eating rice every day. It would keep you alive but was hardly living. Isabella this vibrant stranger was like a feast after years of famine.

 

 

 

 His hands traveled her back down to cup the fullness of her ass.  He pulled his mouth from hers to run his lips against her throat nipping at her jaw. She tasted like heaven sweet and salty and just fucking divine. Her fingers clawed at his back as ground herself harder against him he could feel her wet heat through the thin panties she wore. Her skirt uselessly rolled around her waist.

 

“Fuck Henry please”

 

 

Her pleas went straight to his cock and he ripped her blouse from her body tearing it in two leaving scraps hanging from her arms. Her nipples dusky rose and pebbled in his hand. He couldn’t help but suck one into his mouth before letting it go with a loud pop. She clenched her thighs and bucked her hips riding his Jean clad cock ferociously.

 

“You like little doll” he pulled the other nipple into his mouth sucking harder and she made little mewling noises. Dhe was going to be the death of him. He had known the second he had gotten into the car with her. He just hadn’t known she would ride him to death mewing like a kitten while fucking like the devil.

 

“more please harder"

 

 

Never one to deny a beautiful woman Henry pulled her still writhing body off him and tossed her bodily on the bed. She landed on the hard but he didn’t stop just ripped the rest of her clothes from her body. Before shoving his own off. Henry paused to look at her his gaze burning her body. The tattoo of a fiery heart on her hip the scar from an old belly piercing. Her glistening pussy just begging to be tasted. So he did he dived into the bed his weight  making her bounce a bit. Spreading her legs he passed his tongue over her slit. She squirmed trying to  close her legs but he held her thighs open scooting until she was trapped by his shoulders. Pinned beneath the massive girth of his muscular body. Every pass of his tongue sent a jolt between her legs. He plunged his tongue  in and out of her sopping hole fucking her with his tongue. Isabella screamed it was too much his weight his smell his touch everything was too much and she thought she might die of pleasure. He thrust two fingers into her cunt twisting and turning them while his tongue lapped at her clit. Her stomach clenched and her back arched obscenely  her breast jutting in the air and she convulsed the strength of her orgasm taking over her body. She shook with after shocks and Henry crawled up her body his face shiny with her slick.

 

 

Isabella felt her body tighten in response seconds before she was sure she was going to pass out but looking at his face covered in her juices his tongue darting out to catch errant drops. She was wet all over again. Pulling his face to hers she licked at the seam of his lips tasting herself. Her fingers ran through his curls and she tugged on them impatiently. In  answer he plunged into his bulbous head stretching her to capacity. He stopped halfway her little cunt so tight that he was afraid he’d hurt her if he fully sheathed himself. Henry could feel the sweat dripping down his head a vein in his neck bulged with the effort to keep still. He wouldn’t hurt her not after she’d been so kind no matter how much he wanted to let go. To fuck her into the mattress.

 

“ Fuck your so goddammit tight. I can’t fuck, we’re going to have to go slow little doll or I might hurt you. ”

 

Isabella took a deep breath slammed her hips forward fully sheathing him. She was full so full she could swear he was going to tear her in two but she needed it, need his big cock to fuck her into the wall.

 

“don’t you hold back don’t you fucking hold back.”

 

 

Fuck was all he could think when the tiny woman slammed her body down on him. He pushed into her his big hands holding her hips in a bruising grip as he pulled out to the tip than  slammed her body down his erection over and over. He had lost it. He knew he was holding her too tightly slamming her little body to strongly. The small part of his mind that still was coherent cursed his weakness even as he continued lifting her up before yanking  her down his cock till finally he felt his balls tighten. He wanted to make it good for her though the absolutely filthy sounds of him gliding in and out of her soaked cunt made him think it already was good for her. He managed to capture one luscious tit in his mouth biting hard to keep it as she thrashed screaming a second release and he roared incoherently feeling his seed fill her up he couldn’t help the smug smirk before finally collapsing on the bed. He had enough presence of mind to make sure she landed on top of him so he wouldn’t crush her then fell asleep.

[sylvanfreckles]

Don’t Look (FebuWhump 23)

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Sam and Dean are ambushed and captured by a powerful demon with an ancient lineage. Help is on the way...if they can survive.

(CW for some body horror/sores. Basically, skip if something like rashes and sores would upset you. It’s not terribly graphic, but I know this can be a real phobia for some people).

* * *

“This is obviously a trap, Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes and sandwiched his phone between his head and shoulder, flapping his fingers at Sam in the universal “won't stop talking” gesture. Sam didn't look impressed.

“Look, man, it's just a bunch of demons,” Dean replied. He checked the clip in his gun, tucked a couple spares into his belt, and reached for an angel blade. “Don't see what has you so worked up.”

“Will you please just wait for me?” Cas's voice was strained, and Dean could practically see the impatience in every line of the angel's face. “I'm less than two hours away.”

“Are you talking while driving?” Dean smirked at Sam, though Sam just shook his head and started double-checking his own gear. “Always the little rebel, ain't ya?”

He waited while Cas spluttered in outrage. “We'll be done before you even get here,” he said, talking right over whatever point Cas was about to make. “And, hey, they've got a drive-in movie theater in this town. We can make a field trip, I think they're playing one of the new Star Wars movies.”

Cas was still talking when Dean hung up the call. He shoved the phone into his pocket with a chuckle, then caught Sam staring at him. “What?”

Sam shook his head again and shoved the trunk of the car closed. “Would it kill you to wait for him anyway?”

“And miss all the fun?” Dean slapped his brother on the arm. “Dude. It's demons. Practically kindergarten stuff for us.” Anyway all the big players were downstairs—or dead—so it wasn't like they had anything to worry about.

His brother was still bitch-facing about it when Dean shoved him down the path toward the abandoned hotel. “All right, I'll buy him a root beer float or something, and he'll get over it by the time that little rolling droid he loves so much shows up on screen.”

“BB-8?”

“Dude, I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just knowing you know that.”

Sam turned around and spread his arms out, walking backward down the path. “At least I don't know all the Starfleet captains by first name.”

“Hey, Star Trek is an important part of our cultural history,” Dean retorted, shoving his brother in the chest to keep him moving. “Star Wars is for nerds.”

* * *

The old hotel was empty, apart from the faint dusty of sulfur on some of the decrepit furniture. There were some tracks in the dust, which was a little weird for a bunch of demons, Dean had to admit, but the tracks were recent enough to prove there was demonic activity here.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Dean pulled it out and made a face at it, swiping over the icon to ignore the call.

“Dude, he's probably worried,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, he does that,” Dean shot back. He turned his phone off and shoved it back into his pocket. “He does that too damn much. We can handle one little nest of demons.”

Predictably...at least for Cas and Sam...and Dean, too, though he was loathed to admit it...they could not handle the “little” nest of demons.

The tracks lead them down to the old pool house, but before they'd even crossed the yard they'd been swarmed. The brothers had fought valiantly, back-to-back, and taken out a handful of the attacking demons but there were just too many. They were overwhelmed, hauled into the pool house, and tied to a couple of rusty old poolside chairs.

Dean jerked against his bonds—he could probably work himself free, given enough time. One side of his face had swollen up and his lip was busted up. Sam wasn't much better off, between the gash on his forehead bleeding enough to cover most of his face and the obvious dislocation to his left shoulder.

Well. Now he was gonna have to apologize to Cas for going in without him AND for getting himself and his brother captured. And injured. It would have to be a root beer float and popcorn and downloading the rest of the Star Wars movies for the weekend.

The demons were lined up along the sides of the pool now. They'd put Sam and Dean on the side nearest the shallow end, looking down the length of murky, stagnant water. Dean exchanged a look with his brother—what now? They'd been captured and beat up and tied up for, what, the world's worst diving contest?

The water rippled. Dean stared down at it in shock when a woman's head appeared at the deep end of the pool. But she wasn't swimming, she was...walking? And each step brought her further and further out of the water, the algae and slime cascading off of her body without leaving a trace behind. She was tall, with long, wavy blonde hair that fell almost to her hips. Her body was wrapped in a flowing green dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her...er, other features.

And she was walking on the water now. Because of course. Dean rolled his eyes so hard he almost sprained something. While there was something otherwordly about this whole thing, it was so obviously some demon princess bitch pretending to be a minor goddess or something.

She reached the shallow end of the pool and just stood there, looking at them. Dean glanced down at her bare feet, which were resting on the rippling water as easily as though she was standing on solid ground. “Nice trick,” he commented, smirking up at her. “Special power or just full of hot air?”

The demon in the green dress tilted her head to study him—nice try, bitch, that's Cas's thing—and blinked, her eyes clicking to beetle-black. “I am Vephar. Lord of the waters.”

“I'm Dean,” Dean replied, ignoring Sam's hissed warning. “Lord of the highway.”

Vephar studied for a moment, then raised one arm to point at his face. Pain erupted from his forehead to his chin and his brother called his name in a panicked voice. Vephar turned to face Sam next. “Who are you?”

Gritting his teeth, Dean rolled his head back enough to make eye contact with his brother. Sammy was shooting him a panicked look, obviously concerned by whatever the bitch had done. God, it still hurt. Most of the time when these bastards attacked telepathically it was like a cut from a razor, or a punch that somehow bypassed your muscle to hit you right in the organs. This was just...this was wrong. It ached and burned and felt wet somehow.

“I'm Sam,” his brother finally said, when Vephar took a step toward him. “Just Sam.”

“And why are you here, 'Just Sam'?”

Sam shot a look at Dean, who tried to shake his head subtly. “We were just looking around,” Sam finally stammered out. “The-the hotel. It's abandoned, we thought we could find something to sell in it. You know, the market for copper wire is pretty high right now.”

Vephar tilted her head to the other side. “No,” she intoned after a few seconds. “You're lying.” She raised her hand again and Sam jerked back with a cry of pain. Now Dean could see why his brother had looked so horrified. Instead of cutting or bruising, Vephar had raised an angry-looking line of oozing sores on his brother's face. It reminded him of nothing so much as Nick's face when Lucifer was burning through him...or Cas when he'd taken the souls from Purgatory.

“I was once a grand duke of hell,” Vephar explained, walking back down the length of the pool. “I commanded my legions and churned the mighty waters. I rode the seas in glorious battle, until I was betrayed and bound in this place.”

Dean grunted, tugging at the bonds on his wrists as the urge to dig his fingers into his face became nearly unbearable. “Sucks to be you.”

Vephar turned back to face him and raised one delicate eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Then she raised her hand and Dean threw his head back with a scream as another line of pain lanced up the other side of his face.

“What's binding you here?” Sam asked. “Maybe we can break it? Set you free?”

She tilted her head again, her black gaze boring into Sam's. “You're lying again.”

“Sammy, no!” Dean surged against the ropes uselessly as sores burst into existence around his brother's neck. “You bitch!”

“Temper,” Vephar replied calmly, and then the horrible, burning, wet pain was streaking down his chest under his shirt. Every shift in position made the fabric of his clothing rub against the sores, until it felt like he'd covered himself in sandpaper instead of a t-shirt.

“I don't get much to play with here,” the demon bitch said. She had that damn hand up in the air again, her index finger extended, and she waved it back and forth between the brothers as though trying to choose which one to torture. “I hope you last longer than the last ones.”

Dean was steeling himself to shout—distract the bitch, insult her, make her focus all her anger on him to give Sammy a chance to escape—when the door to the pool house exploded inward.

“Cas!” Sam's voice was thick with warning as the demons that had been lining the sides of the pool turned to swarm the angel. Dean grit his teeth and refocused his efforts on freeing himself. Cas was good—damn good—but there were well over a dozen demons, and heaven wasn't exactly running on full power these days.

He saw Cas go down. Dean threw himself backward with a jerk, finally crashing the chair into the stained tile of the pool deck. Something in the chair had cracked and his ropes were a little looser, and he fought to break himself free.

“Close your eyes!”

Dean swore and tucked his head toward his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. Even then the burst of grace was almost enough to blind him. Damn, Cas hadn't done that in a long time. He hoped his friend still had the juice to recover from an attack like that.

Blinking back the sparks in his vision, Dean rolled onto his side and tried to push himself to his feet. He could see the smoking, empty meatsuits of the demons scattered in a half-circle around Cas, but Cas wasn't looking so good. He had sunk to one knee, and several bloody tears in his trench coat showed where the demons had gotten a few hits in before he'd smited them. Smote them. Whatever.

“Angel!”

Dean threw himself forward and tried to grab Vephar around the ankles as she stalked out of the water toward Cas. The smiting hadn't been enough to end her, though she seemed to be staggering a little and there was black sludge trickling out of her nose.

Cas struggled to his feet, but he was empty-handed—Dean could see a glint of silver just a few feet away, but Cas couldn't reach it before Vephar had a hand around his throat, backing him into the wall.

“I'm going to enjoy this,” the demon bitch sneered. “Angels are so much more...resilient...than humans. Don't you agree, 'lord of the highway'?”

Dean let out a cry as more pain tore through the side of his face. It felt like the sores were swelling, and his stomach nearly revolted when he felt liquid oozing down his neck.

“Hey! Bitch!”

Vephar whirled around, just in time to catch Sam's knife in her throat. Damn, but the kid had good aim. They'd been trying to copy Ruby's blade for years now, and while Sam had never come up with something to match it in power, the runes he'd started carving into the knife he tucked into his boot still did some damage.

The demon released Cas to tug uselessly at the knife in her throat. She glowered at Sam and started to raised her hand, but Cas tackled her from behind.

He'd gotten his angel blade back, during her moment of distraction, and drove it deep into her back, giving it a vicious twist as she screamed out her dying breath.

Dean collapsed in relief. It felt like the sores were still on his face, but the pain had faded significantly. It no longer felt like his skin was going to erupt and peel away from his bone—more like he had a bad case of road rash.

He rolled himself over to check on Sammy. The kid had only worked his right arm free and thrown his knife from there. He sagged in his ropes, panting for breath, but gave Dean a thumb's up when he realized his brother was looking.

Before he could roll back to check on Cas, a firm hand gripped him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Dean found himself staring up at the angel's bruised, angry face. “Next time I tell you it's a trap,” Cas ground out, even as his fingers brushed feather-light over Dean's forehead to heal his wounds, “do me a favor and wait for me.”

Okay. Root beer float, popcorn, the rest of the Star Wars movies, AND another couple pairs of those novelty socks Cas liked so much. The angel had definitely earned it today.

* * *

You guessed it, Vephar is from the Key of Solomon. They’re described as being able to make the seas rough or calm, guiding ships to their destination, and killing by putrefying wounds and sores (fun!). They take the form of a mermaid, so I gave them a female meatsuit and the power to walk on water.

(For those of you who don’t know, the Key of Solomon is my favorite resource for extra-powerful demons. Vephar is the third I’ve used so far, so there’s just 69 to go!)

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part two Word count: ±2250 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part two summary: After successfully wrapping up a werewolf case in Waco, Texas, the boys are on their way again. However, an unexpected phone call might just result in a change of course. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Waco, Texas      November 30th, 2005 - Present Day

     “Get your motor runnin’. Head out on the highway! Lookin’ for adventure, and whatever comes our way.”

     It’s early morning in sunny Texas as the black Chevrolet Impala shoots down Interstate 35, just outside the city of Waco. The temperatures are still cool at this hour, but the orange sun that’s rising in the East will change that within hours. It is exceptionally warm for this time of the year, even for this far south. 

     Dean has his window rolled down and joins Steppenwolf’s lead singer John Kay on the vocals. The hunt was pretty straight forward; after a day of traveling and three more to track the creature, the hunters were able to make the kill. He feels ten times better than he did five days ago, the night he got pulled out of the water without a pulse. But the rest, time and a high dose of antibiotics did him good. Deep breaths aren’t much trouble anymore and the cough is as good as gone. Even the sprint to tackle the werewolf didn’t set his lungs on fire. He’s off pain medication, slept horizontally for the first time in days, and is behind the wheel of his Baby; Dean feels good as new. His way of celebrating is by belting out every word of the legendary rock classic Born To Be Wild.

     “Yeah, Darlin’, go and make it happen. Take the world in a love embrace. Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space.”

     His brother, who is huddled in the corner of the door and the front seat, opens his eyes slightly and glares at his sibling through the drowsiness. He’s not sure what’s more surprising, Dean’s unbelievably good mood or the fact that he’s able to hit the notes.

     “Like a true nature’s child, we were born, born to be wild. We can climb so high, I never wanna die!” Dean sings as he drums on the wheel.  

     “Dude, I’m trying to sleep,” Sam complains. “Turn that shit down, will you?”      Dean looks aside, as if his brother just said something vile. Did he just call Steppenwolf shit? The oldest of the two shakes his head; I tried so hard to raise him right. 

     Instead of honoring Sam’s request, Dean lets go of the steering wheel and plays the solo on his air guitar. Startled, the passenger reaches to take control in order to keep the car steady, after which he eyes his brother. As he does, Dean turns the volume button clockwise and sings along again.      “Born to be wi-i-ild!” he cries out.      “Seriously?” The youngest of the two shoots a look of annoyance at the driver.      “Ah, c’mon, Sammy. Why can’t a guy have a little fun?” Dean replies.      “It’s Sam,” his brother reminds him. “And for one, because I barely slept last night, and secondly, because it’s seven thirty in the morning.”      “So? You’re usually the one who’s all chirpy at the crack of dawn. This way we have the whole day ahead, y’know. Make some use of it,” Dean quips.

     Sam lifts one eyebrow and observes the driver for a few seconds. Is this truly coming from his brother, who is anything but a morning person? Bullshit, he thinks to himself.      “That’s the best you could come up with?” he confronts.      Right at that moment, AC/DC’s Stiff Upper Lip starts playing on the radio channel and Dean can’t help but to shout out when he recognizes the introduction.      “Man, I love this song!”      Sam shakes his head. All that his brother is doing is avoiding the topic of conversation. “And Erin didn’t mind you leaving before the alarm?” 

     Dean looks aside, thinking of the gorgeous brunette he picked up at a bar last night during their celebratory drink. “Not sure, she was still asleep when I left,” he admits.      The younger Winchester scoffs. “That’s just mean.”      “It ain’t my style to hang around too long, you know that,” Dean reminds his brother, defending his actions.      “Why the hell are you in such a hurry? We don’t have a lead on Dad, we don’t have a lead on any case at all. Yet you dragged me out of the motel room at 6 AM to hit the road,” Sam questions.

     His brother shrugs and fails to answer the question. Instead, he mouths the lyrics of the song while cheerily banging his head to the beat.      “Dean!” Sam shouts, trying to get his brother to focus.      “What?!” Dean bounces back, getting somewhat annoyed with his brother’s persistence. “I just wanna get to Hillsboro to pick up that lock so I can finally fix the trunk, that’s all.”

     The passenger rolls his eyes at the lame excuse. “That’s not the reason, Dean. And you know it.”      Dean lays his hand on top of the wheel and shakes his head. “You’re seeing things that ain’t there, know that?”      “Funny, though, apparently you know that I’m talking about Zoë, without me even mentioning her,” the youngest returns with an attitude. “And do you honestly think I didn’t notice that you’re driving north?”      “We’re in Texas, Sam. I can’t exactly go South without crossing any fucking borders,” Dean argues. “Not to mention that ‘north’ is a lot of square miles in this country. How the hell would we possibly be able to find her?”      “I don’t know, man…” Sam stares up the road ahead, but then looks aside. “But you did think of it then.”

     Dean sighs, realizing his slip of the tongue. Okay, so maybe he did, but he isn’t going to admit that. “You are the one who keeps calling her every day. You’re full on stalking her, no wonder she doesn’t pick up.”      “I hope to God that’s the reason,” Sam responds, worried.      “She’s probably just neck deep in a case,” the driver brings to mind. “Zoë’s a good hunter, she knows her shit. Why would you think she’s in trouble?”      “I don’t know, just the way she took off. Like she wasn’t expecting to see us again,” Sam recalls.      “You mean that she was nice?” the oldest rephrases. “Look, if she’s in trouble or not, we’d be searching for a needle in a very big haystack. For now -” He turns on his blinker and exits the highway, “- I’m gonna patch up my Baby.”

     Ten minutes later, they pull over on 526 West Elm Street in Hillsboro. It’s a quiet lane on the outer side of the city, on which a little auto shop called Ronny’s Garage and Wrecker Services is situated. It’s not a big place, just a shed, from which the Stars and Stripes flag flutter playfully. A big Chevrolet truck is parked in front of the lawn, and several wreckages fill the large yard behind the house. On the other side of the sober home next to the shed, there’s a small gas station. 

     Dean cuts the engine and gets out of the car. A largely built man with big sideburns and a slight limp in his walk shows up from under the garage door and moves into the sun. Whipping his hands clean with a dirty cloth, he smiles at the sight of the ‘67 Impala. The oldest of the two Winchester brothers walks up the driveway.      “Ronny Davis!” Dean grins as he approaches him. “Man, it’s good to see ya.”      “Long time, no see, Winchester,” the big man says, embracing the hunter.

     Dean pats him on the back and restores the space between them. It has been a while. Last time he saw the brawny guy was at a shady diner in Tampa, where he and John helped Ron out on a Djinn case. It must have been four years ago, at least. Sam just left for college around that time.      “How’s your old man?” he wonders.      “He’s alright,” Dean says, keeping up appearances. “Workin’ another case.”

     It’s not a lie. Well, technically it’s not. He will leave out the part where his father is missing, though. Not telling the truth to the old friend is not something he’s comfortable with, but he will do anything to make sure his father’s work isn’t jeopardized. Sam was eager to reach out to other hunters in order to find him and although Dean wants to track him down just as well, he prefers to keep this in the family, letting sleeping dogs lie. Who knows who, or what, might be listening in. They will find Dad, when he wants to be found. 

     The two men enter the garage, where a 62’ Lincoln Continental lays on the operating table with a bared engine bay. While Dean nods at the car with appreciating eyes, Ronny turns around to  observe the youngest Winchester for a moment, who gets out of the car.      “I see Sam is back in action.”      “Yeah, dragged his ass back into the game,” Dean replies with a trace of regret in his voice.      “He’s an excellent hunter. We can use a few good men like him,” Ronny says. “Especially now that one of the very best was sent on early retirement.”      Dean chuckles at his comment and glances down. “How are you, by the way?”      Ron pulls up the pant leg of his overhaul, revealing the bionic prosthetic.      “It doesn’t even hurt a bit,” he jokes. “Ruguru took it right off, knee and all.”      “I’m sorry, man,” Dean sighs, his sympathetic eyes meeting Ronny’s.      “It’s quite alright, actually,” he assures, smiling at the ground. “I mean, I still have holy water on my nightstand and a sixgun by the door, but instead of killing monsters I fix cars now. Life could be worse.”

     Dean can’t help but to agree on that. A small prick of jealousy pierces his heart, because deep down, he wouldn’t mind living the ordinary life. Sure, he has embraced hunting, or at least acts like he has. He finds fulfillment in the job, saving people who are in need and ridding the world of evil, but it comes with great sacrifice. Who knows, maybe when they finally find the son of a bitch that killed his mother, he can lay down his weapons. Some day.

     The former hunter has walked to his workbench on which a dissected transmission box lays bare. “So, what brings you here?”      “Passing through, just wrapped up a case in Waco,” Dean tells him. “Some scumbag tried to break into the trunk, though. The lock is busted, couldn’t fix it. And since you have six and a half a Chevy in your backyard, I figured you’d be the guy who could help me out.”      “I actually dismantled a 69’ Caprice last week, same lock as the ‘67.” He moves a few boxes around, snuffling through the thousands of parts. In this organized chaos Ron is able to find what he’s looking for and pulls the lock plus keys from a drawer.      “Let’s get to work,” Dean suggests, contented.

     As the mechanics take a look at the Impala, Sam wanders off. Not going anywhere in particular, the youngest Winchester strolls down the crooked sidewalk, taking in his surroundings. None of the lawns in the neighborhood are taken care of, no one made the effort to water the grass. The houses seem neglected, paint is coming off the wooden frames and weeds growing through the tiles. 

     With a sigh he takes out his phone. Scrolling through the list of last outgoing calls, Zoë shows on the display over and over again. Dean’s right; he is stalking her. Despite that thought, he presses the green button and puts his new Blackberry against his ear, since the last one perished in the lake in Paragould.

     “This is the voicemail of Zoë Sullivan. You can leave a message after the--”

     Annoyed, Sam hangs up and walks on. As he enters the small shop by the gas station, a bell rings. A middle aged woman behind the counter looks up and greets him politely. He gives her a nod and takes a few candy bars from the selves, since there is no healthy alternative in stock to choose from. So much for breakfast, but at least this will save them from starvation.      “That will be $ 3,60, sir,” the lady informs while she puts the bars in a plastic bag.      He passes her a five dollar bill and takes the bag and his change. As she wishes him a nice day, he leaves. The sun almost blinds him, still hanging low, but shining brightly already. Sam narrows his eyes and starts to make his way back to the garage, when his phone rings. A bit startled, he hastily takes out his phone, hoping it’s Zoë, but the caller ID isn’t identified on the display. While wondering who it could be, he answers.      “This is Sam.”      “Sam Winchester?”

     A bit stunned, the young hunter looks back at his display to make sure the woman on the other end of the line isn’t Zoë. The voice coming through is different, softer, with a slightly dissimilar accent. Sam digs deep down his memory, but he doesn’t recognize the person on the phone.      “Who is this?” he asks, still cautious.      “I have some information for you.”      Whoever she is, she got his attention. Sam tries to not sound too curious as he responds. “What kind of information?”       A short silence follows before the girl answers, but when she does, her words bring his heart and mind to a full stop.

      “I know where your father is.”

There you have it, the first chapter of the new episode “Black Dog”. I hope I got your attention! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part three here

[lyssismagical]

When the sky is losing light, I swear my head fills up with memories

Febuwhump Days 25-28 - Presumed Dead, Freeze to Death, Glass, Post-Tragedy

Read on AO3

{TW: Minor Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence}

*

His breaths puff out of him, visible in the frigid air.

Kidnapped again.

He’d only been kidnapped a handful of times before, but being both Tony’s Intern and Spider-Man had some pretty obvious downsides. It always ended fine, a grand rescue mission ending with Tony coddling Peter in Medical.

It never took longer than mere hours for him to be found, always covered in trackable devices or taken by people who underestimate Tony’s genius.

But this was different already, Peter could tell.

The man speaking to him from the other side of the glass-walled enclosure Peter’s in, isn’t interested in using Peter for ransom like most others are. He doesn’t even seem interested in hurting Peter, doesn’t step inside the enclosure at all.

And worse, Peter recognized the man pacing. He was one of the police officers constantly chasing after Spider-Man, believing he was failing the city, all of the bullshit that the Daily Bugle puts out. He’d tried to arrest Peter a few times before and had even started shooting at Peter as he swung through Queens.

No matter how much good Peter did, police officers like him would always believe he was a menace.

“Did you know,” the man starts, dress shoes clicking against the ground as he paces. “that over thirty percent of the criminals you web up end up free to roam the streets within days of arrest? Did you know that we still have to present the criminals to the judge and jury nearly evidence-less, and they’re proclaimed innocent until proven guilty? Did you know that the majority of the criminals set free after you play pretend police with them, end up doing more crime and hurting more people?”

Peter does know that. He watches the news as often as he can, he’s got access to files and information through Tony and FRIDAY even if he’s not technically supposed to see it.

He knows it and he hates it. He keeps tabs on all the criminals and he gives them the benefit of the doubt, hoping the close run-in with the cops will get them to turn good, but it rarely works out that way.

Peter keeps his mouth shut, testing the chains that hold him to one of the four glass walls, metal freezing cold on his wrists, but they’re too strong.

“There’s an obvious solution here, spider,” the man says condescendingly. He taps at one of the two guns that sit against his hips. “Bullet right in the forehead. Get the job done for real.”

Frowning, the young hero shakes his head. “That’s not right-”

“If you don’t, you’re letting these criminals walk free.” The man, shakes his head, leaning up against the glass. The name tag on his shirt reads David Walker.

“That doesn’t mean I can start killing people just because they did something wrong.”

David scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Let’s start with a man you webbed up three months ago, alright? His name was Scott Paterson. Scott’s a drug dealer, he’s got a few counts of assault under his belt, even had a charge of arson. You caught him three months ago in a drug deal gone wrong. Scott was webbed up and we collected him. He was out on the streets again within two days.”

Peter doesn’t remember Scott. He believes David, but it’s hard to remember specific names or crimes that he stops on the daily.

“Two weeks ago, we found Scott in his apartment,” David continues. “He had been in the process of moving out of state to avoid being caught because he’d killed two guys who were witnesses to Scott’s crimes.”

Guilt rushes through Peter, settling amongst all the other buckets of guilt he’s stored deep within his conscience. He knows this kind of thing happens, he does, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

David leans against the glass, hands splayed out. “Those two deaths are on your hands, Spider. Two women are now widows, three children are fatherless, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t want-”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Spider,” David tsks. “If you had killed Scott instead of leaving him for us to deal with, those families wouldn’t have lost those men, and Scott would’ve gotten what he had coming. Isn’t that the better outcome? Just think of how many deaths are on your hands if over thirty percent of the criminals you webbed up are still commiting crimes.”

Peter flinches, not wanting to think about blood on his hands, reminding him of Ben and all the citizens he couldn’t save no matter how hard he tried.

But David won’t stop now. “Wouldn’t it be better if the precious hero stopped failing? Wouldn’t it be better for you to rid the streets of all criminals, not just the ones that us cops can put behind bars for a couple of years? Wouldn’t it be better if you protected your civilians and your city, Spider-Man?”

“I can’t just kill every person who’s done something wrong! I can’t just start pulling the trigger every time somebody steps out of line! Wouldn’t that make me just as bad as them?”

“You’re already a menace, Spider-Man, do you really want to be a failure too? If you don’t kill them, they’ll just hurt more people and then it’s on you.”

Tears are welling in Peter’s eyes against his will because this isn’t right. Tony’s always said that Peter’s morals rival those of Captain America. That Peter was always good, simply put. And Peter believed it. He was a hero, after all.

David’s face softens a fraction, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Alright, let’s make this easier for you, okay?”

He turns down the hallway, they seem to be in some cliché abandoned warehouse, only the glass blocking Peter away from David, but Peter doesn’t have to try to know the glass isn’t normal glass, and the handcuffs holding him down aren’t regular handcuffs.

Peter takes the second of solitude to check himself over. He’s wearing the t-shirt and jeans he had on when he was walking to school, he guesses only a few hours earlier. His phone, watch, and backpack all missing. Even his shoes were gone. He doesn’t feel hurt at all, other than the headache from being knocked out.

David’s a police officer. There’s no way of knowing how many others are working with him, if he could’ve wiped any security tapes, if he could’ve taken them somewhere non-disclosed where even Tony couldn’t find them.

The cuffs must be vibranium, refusing to break no matter how hard Peter tugs at them. It’s January too. The abandoned warehouse isn’t about to have heating, so the frigid air makes sense. Peter shivers just thinking about the cold seeping into him.

“Alright, Spider.” David’s voice returns. He emerges back into Peter’s view, but this time, he’s dragging a body along with him.

David shoves the door to the glass enclosure open and tosses the body to the floor by Peter’s feet.

“Meet Scott Paterson, Spider-Man,” David says, a grin stretching across his face.

Scott’s face is enough to trigger the memory of him. There was shouting behind a bar when Peter was on his way home, so Peter went and webbed both Scott and another guy up. He left them with the drugs as evidence along with the knife Scott had pulled out.

His face is a little beaten up, blood dripping from his split lip onto the ground but his eyes are wild with confusion and fear, hands shaking in the plain handcuffs holding his wrists behind his back.

“We’re going to play a little game, alright?” David pulls one of the guns out of his pocket along with a roll of duct tape.

Peter’s shivering steadily and his head is pounding, vibranium holding his wrists in front of him, so there’s not much he can do as David tapes the gun to Peter’s hand, covering his hands and fingers in the silvery tape, index finger on the trigger.

“You’ve got one bullet in there,” David explains, taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

He pulls Scott to his knees, draws the second gun and holds the barrel to Scott’s temple.

“Wait a second-” Scott gasps, biceps straining as he tries to get away, out of the handcuffs, out of the grip on his collar.

“Now, here’s the game, Spider.” The click of the safety. “Put your bullet in his forehead.”

Peter tugs at his restraints harder, shaking his head as tears rush into his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t just kill him!”

“The blood is already on your hands, Spider. If you don’t kill him, I will, and it’ll be your fault. Or you kill him.”

Scott’s wild eyes lock onto Peter’s. “Please, man, I’m not- I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I got caught up with this awful dude who was threatening my daughter, and I did what he told me to do to keep her safe. You gotta- Please, man, I can’t die. Don’t- Don’t let me die.”

Peter’s heart clenches, hands shaking as he lifts the gun, a tear already tracing its way down his frozen cheeks. He turns the gun towards David.

“Do it, coward,” David says, lifting his eyebrows. “You’re just a coward, Spider. If you kill me, my death will be on you, but you’d save Scott. If you don’t, I’ll kill Scott and it’ll be your fault. Either way, somebody dies and the blame is put on you.”

Shaking his head again, Peter can’t convince himself to speak around the lump in his throat, worried that if he opened his mouth, a sob would escape.

David shoves the gun harder against Scott’s temple, glaring at Peter. “Your choice, kid. Me or him.”

“Please, man, you’ve gotta believe me,” Scott pleads, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks. “I know I did bad things, but I’m not a bad guy. My daughter’s dance recital is tomorrow and I- I promised I’d go for her. Please.”

Peter’s hands are trembling as he points the gun up at David, chains pulling taut. “You don’t have to do this. You could put down the gun and we could all walk out of here.”

But there’s no sympathy in David’s face, no care, just the same nonchalance. “You’ve got three seconds or I’m killing Scott.”

Three.

There’s no way out. There’s no way to change the outcomes of this. Somebody’s going to die. Either Peter kills somebody, or Peter lets somebody kill someone. Either way, it’s on Peter. Either way, Peter will leave here a murderer. No better than David or Scott. No better than the people he puts in prison every day. No better than the man who killed Ben that night all those years ago, the one that Peter spent months obsessively tracking. No better than the worst of the worst.

Two.

Either way, Peter’s a killer.

One.

* Peter startles awake when he feels hands on his shoulders, shaking him hard. He gasps, cold and sweating and crying, not shivering because he’s long since stopped shivering in this stupid fucking glass prison, but trembling from the anxiety that still thrums through his veins, the adrenaline crashing.

“Oh fuck, kid, I thought- You weren’t moving and I- I thought-”

“Tony?” His voice breaks on a sob, tears frozen against his cheeks, and the gun is still taped to his hand, still warm against his palm. “Get it off, get it- get it off, please, I can’t-”

Tony’s quick to grab a knife handed to him from somewhere behind Peter, probably Natasha, and cutting the weapon away from Peter’s palm.

There’s blood and glass everywhere. Peter peeks over Tony’s shoulder, barely able to contain the hoarse sob that escapes him when he sees the unconscious figures.

“Are they-”

“One of them was,” Tony responds shortly. “The other one passed out from shock, he’ll be fine.”

But that’s not better.

Peter pulled the trigger.

He was the one that put a bullet in another man’s head.

He was the one who took the life from a human being.

Peter hides his face against Tony’s shoulder, stomach twisting at the flashes of blood and shattering glass and feeling the recoiling gun.

His head gets stuck in a loop of percentages, of statistics. Thirty percent of criminals. He wonders how many police are like David, how many of them would push Peter to murder. He wonders what the statistics are for people he’s saved versus those the police have saved. If Peter’s really making a difference of not. He wonders, in another universe where he never became Spider-Man, if Queens would be better off.

It doesn’t matter though, alternate universes and statistics, because Peter killed a man. Because there’s a dead body only feet away from him and the gun is only inches away from his fingertips, glass shards littering the floor and digging into his knees and shins.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the car and back to Bruce, okay?” Tony says, voice soft and low. His hands are much too careful against Peter’s shoulders and thumbs running over his cheekbones and fingertips brushing back his hair.

Peter doesn’t answer, doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to, throat clogged up with grief and crushing guilt.

He doesn’t deserve any of it. He doesn’t deserve Tony and his soft words and softer touches, doesn’t deserve the luxury of seeing a doctor and getting patched up, doesn’t deserve safety and warmth. He deserves to be behind bars for this. He killed a man.

Tony leads him up to his feet, careful to position himself between Peter and David’s body, it doesn’t matter because the image is already scarred into Peter’s memory.

The world is too bright, sun bouncing off the snow and into Peter’s eyes before Tony slips a pair of sunglasses on him. The world goes dim and dark, and Peter lets Tony lead him forward and maneuver his pliant limbs into the car.

He hears Happy say something to him, but he sounds distant. Underwater.

Tony’s fingertips are on his face, pushing his curls back and smoothing his thumbs over Peter’s temples. “Sleep, kid. It’ll be okay.”

Peter doesn’t believe it’ll be okay, doesn’t know how Tony could, but he rests his head against the window anyways and spends the drive trying his best not to think about the glass against his head and in his skin.

Peter doesn’t answer many of Bruce’s questions, but thankfully, the doctor is kind and limits his questions to yes or no answers where he can.

Tony sits at his side while Bruce takes the glass out of him and stitches up the deeper wounds, putting butterfly bandages over the rest.

And then Peter’s led back up to the penthouse where May arrives, bundling him up in a tight hug before getting a sandwich in front of him.

He eats even though his food tastes like nothing and it’s hard to swallow around the lump in his throat that doesn’t seem to leave. He can’t get the image of Scott’s crying face and David’s body dropping to the floor, gun going off and hitting one of the glass walls, effectively shattering it.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony murmurs sitting down across from Peter and pushing a cup of water towards him.

Peter doesn’t know if Tony did it intentionally, but the cup is a colorful plastic one, not glass.

“Thanks,” Peter says, coughing to cover up the effort it takes to stop himself from bursting into tears again.

“I know this is a bad time and I shouldn’t be asking you anything this soon, but the man’s at the hospital with Nat and Steve, and they’re wondering what they should do with him,” Tony says. “He says it’s your decision whether or not you want him in prison.”

Scott’s giving Peter the decision. Another decision. Maybe that means Peter did a good job the first time Scott’s life was put in his hands.

Either way, he doesn’t want to make the decision. He doesn’t know if he’s psychologically capable of making another big decision like this one.

“Send him home,” Peter says, voice robotic and not quite his own. “Wasn’t his fault.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow. He’s always been overly-curious. Someone incapable of holding in the questions he wants answers to, so it’s not surprising when he says, “It wasn’t his fault that there’s a dead police officer on our hands now?”

It’s not his fault. He probably assumed the gun on the ground meant that Scott shot David, not Peter who shot him. He probably saw the gun taped to Peter’s hand and automatically assumed it couldn’t have been him.

“No,” Peter says shortly, taking a sip of the water and trying his best not to draw attention to his violently trembling hands. Water sloshes over the edge of his cup onto the table. “Scott’s not a bad guy.”

He doesn’t say that he doesn’t think David was the bad guy either. He doesn’t say that he thinks Peter’s the bad guy.

“Okay, I’ll let them know,” Tony says, looking at Peter like he’s going to ask another hundred questions to get to the bottom of this.

“I’m going to my room.” Peter stands up abruptly, arm jerking like it expects to be held down by the chains from earlier. He almost forgets to put down his cup and when he does, he forgets to reign in his strength and the cup breaks, spilling water over the table.

Instead of dealing with any of his obviously unusual actions, he just nods at the mess he’s made like he did it on purpose and walks to his bedroom.

He doesn’t want to deal with any of it. His skin is crawling and his lungs feel like they’ve collapsed. And he knows what that feels like.

He wishes he could talk to Ben.

Ben would know what to do, what to say. He always did. May’s good and Peter loves her, he does, but she always used to let Ben deal with the emotional side of things. After Mary and Richard died, Ben would be the one to comfort him after nightmares and he was the one who would drag out old photo albums and hold Peter while he cried. May was the one to put the funeral together and she did his laundry and cooked them food and offered any support she could.

But Ben’s not there anymore. He isn’t there to be the elaborate story-teller he used to be, making up voices and gesticulating wildly until he got Peter to fall into a giggle fit. He isn’t there to tuck Peter into a warm blanket, make Ben’s Special Hot Chocolate, and do jigsaw puzzles with him in the middle of the night. Ben’s not there.

“Yorke Construction, how can I help you?”

Peter jerks, fingers clutching the phone against his ear. He hadn’t realized he’d called.

“Um, sorry- I shouldn’t have-”

The lady’s voice softens. “Are you okay?”

It’s not the same person who used to pick up the phones at Ben’s work when he did work there.

“I shouldn’t have called, I just-”

“Are you okay?” she repeats gently. “Are you trying to reach someone?”

Peter resolve crumples and he tries to hide the obvious tears in his voice. “My uncle used to work there, he doesn’t anymore. I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

“No worries at all.”

Peter hangs up before he can say anything else, and he lets his phone fall to his bed, curling up in his blankets as he cries.

* Ben used to want to be a police officer, Peter remembers. He got accepted into the academy, but he never ended up going. He didn’t have the money and he hated how much Mary and May worried about him, even if he hadn’t become a police officer yet. Instead, he went into construction.

He always talked about one day building May a house in the countryside. He liked building things, was super smart. Peter thinks that’s where he got his desire to build.

He wonders if things would be different if Ben were a police officer like David was. Ben would’ve been hundreds of times better than David.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony murmurs, walking in. He winces, probably noticing the tearstains or maybe the blood he’s drawn from biting his lip. “How’re you holding up?”

He sits at the end of Peter’s bed, gently rubbing his shins where his wounds have all healed from the broken glass. Peter turns his eyes to the ceiling.

“It wasn’t Scott,” Peter says.

“I know.” Tony’s voice doesn’t hold any anger, any hurt, any betrayal. He’s been the one saying Peter’s the most morally sound person he’s ever met, he should be angry that Peter’s killed a man.

“It was me.”

Tony nods. “I know.”

Ben would’ve been angry. He was always better. The best. Peter imagines himself holding the gun at Ben, not a bystander like he was that night. He thinks of murder and blood and glass shattering. Of Ben’s body dropping the same way David’s did.

“I’m- I’m a murderer, Tony.”

“Scott said that you saved his life,” Tony offers. He shifts back on the bed to rest his back against the wall, propping Peter’s feet up in his lap.

Peter swallows thickly. “He wouldn’t have been there in the first place if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t webbed him up three months ago, he wouldn’t have ended up on the police’s radar at all.”

“You wanna tell me what happened in there?”

From his tone, Tony’s not expecting a story. But Peter wants Tony to yell at him, to hate him for what he’s done. Peter thinks Tony will understand if he hears the statistics, if he hears how Peter failed again and again, how dozens of people are dead because of him, and how David’s blood is on his hands.

In his strange state of mind, confused and focused on all the wrong things, Peter forgets to leave out the details like he normally does. How he always does. He leaves in the gory details by accident because he can’t think straight, and he’s pretty sure some of the details he tells are of Ben’s death and not David’s, but he isn’t sure.

“You didn’t have a choice, Peter,” Tony says, voice somehow still staying soft and low, thumb still rubbing his ankle, expression still full of care. “He didn’t give you a choice.”

“I held a gun and I shot somebody, Mister Stark. How is that not my fault?”

Tony sighs, long and tired like he isn’t sure how much he wants to fight this fight. “Listen, kid, I know you have a guilt complex the size of America, so I don’t know how I can ever convince you that this wasn’t your fault, but nobody’s mad at you regardless.”

“I’m a killer!” Peter exclaims angrily, sitting up in bed and glaring at Tony through his tears. “How the fuck can you argue that I did anything right today?”

“Because I know you, kid, and I know you didn’t have a choice. And let’s say you did, okay? Let’s say, you had a choice and you chose to kill him. You know what? I still love you. Nothing could make me not love you, kid. Nothing could make me hate you.”

Peter presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “But I’m a killer.”

“I’ve had people die because of me,” Tony says. “Lots of people that I tried to save and couldn’t. Lots of people that died because I made mistakes on the job. And I know you don’t believe I would’ve, but I nearly killed that fucker last year that hurt you. If it weren’t for Rhodey that night, I would’ve killed him.”

“You were protecting me.” Peter doesn’t know how to wrap his head around any of it. “That makes it different. You’re not a killer, Mister Stark.”

Tony shrugs, sending him a sad smile. “You were protecting Scott and yourself. Plus, you weren’t given a choice, bud. You had that gun taped to your hand. That’s not a choice.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. I still- I still killed him. I still shot the gun. I still watched-” Peter cuts himself off, brain stuck in a loop of David dropping to the floor and Ben’s hands coming up to cover the wound as he sunk to the ground and glass shattering.

“Maybe not,” Tony shrugs again. “Even if we were in that hypothetical that you killed somebody in cold blood. And I’ll repeat, hypothetical. I think you’ve saved enough people to make up for it. What the NYPD and the legal system do with the criminals, what the criminals do if they get back on the streets, that doesn’t fall on your shoulders.”

Peter sniffles, too tired to keep arguing it. His guilt has settled enough to think a little bit straighter, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to make it go entirely away.

“Plus,” Tony continues, patting his kid’s ankle. “You should know, Scott spent this morning at his daughter’s dance recital. Her name’s Anne, I learned, and she’s very happy her favourite superhero saved her dad.”

Later, Anne and Scott will send letters with their thanks for allowing them to stay together. For choosing both Scott’s survival and for not sending him to prison.

For now, Peter pulls his feet away from Tony to instead curl up against his side, tucking his face against his father-figure’s shoulder, hiding away his tears.

“You know,” Tony says eventually, arms tight around Peter. “When we found you, you were so cold, so pale… There was so much blood.”

“Hm?” Peter responds, too tired to try for a real conversation.

Tony sniffs. “I thought you were dead for a second. We got there and there was only one heat signature and it was Scott, and the blood made me think you were dead too. I thought- I thought I had lost you.”

Peter hums in response, nuzzling closer to Tony.

“If David wasn’t already dead, I would’ve killed him.”

It’s a strange thing to bring comfort to Peter, but he trusts Tony, he believes Tony. And he lets Tony burden some of the guilt that’s stored in him. He lets go of some of it, believing that Tony will always catch him when he falls.

* Peter visits Ben’s grave that evening.

He figures it’s only fair. He’s got a lot of guilt to work through, but he knows Tony’s going to be there every step of the way, and May’s going to continue being there for him too.

He doesn’t say anything, scared that his words would never be enough to mean anything, to amount to what he thinks and feels. He doesn’t know how to articulate any of his thoughts into anything real.

Instead, he lays the blueprints down on the dirt. He dug through storage until he found them. For the house Ben was going to build May one day. It’s a silent promise, that if he can do anything for Ben, he can do this.

He’ll try to keep the streets safe, he’ll try to be a superhero, he’ll try to be the person Ben always wanted him to be.

But he will build the house for May. He will let Tony take care of him the way Ben would’ve wanted him to. He will learn to forgive himself how he knows Ben has.

{I’ll be starting a taglist officially the next fic I post, so if you wanna be added let me know}

[regsteapott]

A Chapter From my book ‘Marked’ Tom Riddle on Wattpad and AO3 — Smut

Word Count: 3513

Tom continued trying to figure out the horcruxes. He had successfully made five now. Two to go...

His mind rushed with thoughts of Violet. Seeing her with someone else made him mad. Enraged even. But he couldn't show that he even slightly gave a fuck. Not when she was off snogging some other dude who barely even knew her.

Although he loved all the attention he was getting due to being single again. He found himself a new girl to fuck every night. But it never made him forget her, no matter how hard he tried. Every girl he hooked up with just reminded him how bad he wanted her back.

He never stayed the night though and never let them in his room unless he didnt feel like going anywhere else and he was desperate for sex.

It normally occurred when his mind wouldn't stop thinking of her. He hated himself everyday, but he learned to turn it off. The missing her, and the happiness he felt when he would spend every waking moment with her. And the loving her.

He did everything for her. He weakened himself for her. Now that she was gone he could finally focus on the task at hand, although he was only doing the whole horcrux thing for her. So he could spend eternity with her.

He fucked every girl that found an attraction to him, made him feel dominant. He loved it. It took his mind off of everything falling around him.

He learned to shut the emotions off. He didnt care who he had to hurt in order to just stop fucking feeling, even if it meant he hurt Violet in the process he didnt care.

He felt good watching her crumble as he fingered Amelia in front of her. Seeing the jealousy cloud her eyes and judgment. He loved to watch her hate him. Cause if she loved him, he would be even more vulnerable than she already made him.

But if anyone were to touch her the way he does. He would never hesitate to rip their heart out or snap their neck right in front of her without feeling a thing.

He knew what was best for her, and that was him. But she hated him, and he loved it.

He walked to the cabinet where Abraxas hid the alcohol. Pouring him self a glass of bourbon. Downing it with one gulp.

He walks into the common room and sees two Slytherin girls eyeing him down as he walks toward them. One was a spicy looking red head with pale freckled skin, who was dressed in a skirt that was way to short.

The other was a dirty blonde who was wearing almost an identical skirt, both were exposing far more skin than necessary.

They whispered each other, giggling and looking at Tom still approaching them.

"Hi Tom.." They said in unison, smiling up at the brown haired boy who towered over the two vulnerable girls.

"Hello ladies - care to come to my dorm?" He asks seductively, eyeing the two girls up and down.

"Both of us?" The blonde responds.

"Unless you would like me to take you one at a time?" He quires, smirking at the blonde Slytherin.

They end up both following him willingly to his dorm.

Violet Black

I had to find Tom. I had to tell him how much I missed him, how I forgave him for everything, how much I loved him, and wanted him. I wanted all of him, I didnt care anymore if he lied.

The pain was too much without him, I tried distracting myself with Leo. I thought maybe I could fall in love with him instead. But whenever I was with Leo the only person I ever thought of was Tom.

I love him. I will always love him. I was willing to do whatever it took for him to take me back.

I knew I was blinded by love but he was all I ever thought about.

I stood from my bed in an instant. "Violet? Where are you going?" Cassie asks softly as Abraxas lay snoring on her chest. She furrowed her brows as she watched me walk toward the dormitory door.

"To find Tom-" I say. And with that I leave the dormitory making my way down into the common room and up to the boys dormitories.

I knock gently on the door that led to Abraxas' and Tom's dorm.

"Tom -" I plead from outside of the door before turning the knob and walking in.

"Tom I - I thought we could maybe tal-"

I look up to find him getting his dick sucked by some random red headed girl while he was tongue deep in another girls throat, running his hands up her breasts.

He pulls away from the blonde who was kissing him, looking over toward me. "Ah, come to join?" He mocks, quirking an eyebrow.

"You fucking disgust me." I say as I begin to head out of the dorm.

He pushes the two girls off him, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. "Get out." He demands to the two girls. They groan and begin to gather their clothing and head out.

Before I could leave he grips my wrist tightly.

"What the fuck is fucking wrong with you!" I yell as I hit his bare chest repeatedly.

"Shit, Violet what the fuck." He says in between violent hits. He grips onto my tiny wrists stopping me from hitting him any further.

"I fucking came here to tell you I forgave you for everything and  - and to tell you I missed you and I loved you. God, how fucking stupid am I!" I yell, trying to pry my wrists out of his grip. "You- you are a fucking pig. I never should've believed you would change." I say out of pure rage.

"Violet who fucking left who here?!" He yells, tightening his grip on my wrists even more.

Our bodies were incredibly close, his chest barely touched mine as our rage radiated off of one another.

"I was right to fucking leave." I spit, staring into his rage filled eyes with mine. "And god you fucking reek of sex. Fuck." I continue maliciously finally ripping my wrist out of his grasp and backing away.

I try to head toward the door again but found it locked by itself. "Colloportus." Tom murmurs, wand in hand.

"Let me the fuck out now!" I say as I reach for my wand in my back pocket to use the unlocking spell, but it had gone. I frantically search along the ground for it but it was nowhere.

"Looking for this, my love?" He joans, smirking at me and spinning my hazel wood wand in between his digits. I stalk toward him, sizing myself to my full height yet still significantly shorter than him.

"Give. it. back. now." I growl looking up at him as his smirk is still intact.

"Try to take it. Come on baby. " He jokes, lifting his hand high in the air with my wand in it.

I try to jump to grip my wand from his hand but he pulls it even higher. "Aw, come on Black I know you can jump higher than that." He jokes.

I glare at him, we were incredibly close again. I felt his hot breathe fanning against my face. "Tom I am not playing with you right now!" I yell, frustrated.

He smirks and finally hands me my wand back, "I thought you loved to play." He says seductively, eyeing me up and down. "Oh fuck off." I say, glaring at him and gripping my wand.

He inches closer to me as I begin to back up until I hit a wall behind me. He towers over me, placing his hand on the side of my face, cupping my cheek and running his thumb along it. I dropped my wand out of surprise.

"Don't touch me with those nasty ass hands. I don't know what you did to those girls." I spit, but still let his hand rest on my face.

"Don't worry, nothing I haven't done to you a million times." He joans, curling his lips into a small smile as he looked down at me.

"Fuck you." I growl, attempting to push him away from me but he doesn't budge. "I hate you!" I yell, starting to feel the anger boil inside me again. "Fuck. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much it hurts." I continue, clenching my fists until my nails made indents into the palms of my hands.

"I fucking hate you To-"

Before I could finish his lips crashed into mine, in hot, passionate, rage filled kisses. My breathe had escaped my lungs as I abide and crumbled beneath him. He grips my hair gently pulling my head back as he trailed rough kisses down my jawline and down to my neck and covering the old marks that Leo had made. Nipping and running his tongue across the nape of my neck. I take a sharp breathe in as he nips at the sensitive parts of  my neck.

He pulls away and dives back into my lips.

His hands run all over my body, as I run my fingers through his dark brown hair  I pull him closer to me as we make out aggressively. His hands slide down to my thighs gripping them and lifting me up against his torso.

I felt the cold wall disappear as he carried me to his bed. He pulled away for a second so we both could catch out breathes, he began unbuckling his belt. The clattering of the metal made goosebumps form along my entire body as I stared aimlessly at him fiddle with his pants.

"I still hate you." I say as I begin to rip my clothes off. "And I still love you." He says. He takes his wand out of his back pocket before he pulls his pants down as he began leaning over my now naked body.

I felt my cheeks heat as I turned a bright scarlet color at his words.

I felt vulnerable underneath him. "Muffliato" He whispers. I look up at him confused. He smirks as he takes his belt into his hands.

"Lift your arms." He demands. "What?" I ask, still confused. "Just fucking do it Violet." He repeats aggressively.

I obey, pulling my arms above my head. He begins tying my wrists to the bed post with his belt. I gasp as he tightens it around my wrists. "Tom - what - what are you doing-" I ask as I squirm a little.

He ignores me as he finishes tying my wrists up. I shift underneath him, spreading my legs as his hard length rubs against the inside of my thigh.

He leans down, wrapping his hands around my neck and squeezing gently. I feel the coldness of his rings against my throat and his breathe against my neck as he inspects me, noticing all the hickeys Leo had left.

"You make me want to do terrible things to you Violet. Fuck. Do you see what you do to me?" He hissed in my ear. I felt him gently buck his hips into me. I pull against my restraints and my breathing becomes hitched.

I close my eyes, waiting for him to just fuck me.  He runs his spare hand down my stomach causing me to arch against his touch, his hand around my neck still very firmly in tact.

He rubs circles around my clit with his middle and ring fingers as he stares down at me, squirming with pleasure. I buck my hips into his fingers as he slips them in and roughly speeds his pace of pumping in and out.

"You're such a whore." He spits as he tightens his grip around my neck. "I-" I spew out incoherent words.

"You're already so fucking wet. Fuck Violet."

"You're teasing me what do you expect."

He pulls his fingers out and shifts his boxers down so his dick rubs up and down my throbbing clit. "I want you to scream my fucking name Violet." He says as he slams into me.

A loud gasp escapes my blood rushed lips as he pumps violently in and out of me. I squirm, trying to pull away from my restraints to slow him down. "Sl- Slow - Slow down Tom - I -" I moan, I felt I was already close to unraveling.

"What? You can't take it? huh?" He breathes out in between strokes. "You're such a slut. Surely you can take me." He continues maliciously.

I bite my lower lip as the pain in my hips and lower stomach increases. "No - I - I don't want t- to cum y- yet." I say between moans. My walls began to tighten around his cock.

I felt all of him, every last inch pumping in and out of me with such force I thought I might scream.

"Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Ugh! so tight." He groans as he increasingly fastens his pace. 

“Scream my fucking name Violet! I want to hear you beg."

My eyes began to water at the pressure between my legs. "Tom! F- uck! F- Fuck me! Please. Please Tom." I moan out, bucking my hips into him.

"You're fucking mine." He growls, trailing kissing down breasts and finally releasing his grip from my throat and rubbing my breasts in his free hand.

His other hand entangles my hair, pulling my hand back as I arch against his toned stomach.

"Oh - Oh god - f - fuck!" I yell as I drown out the sound of the bed slamming against the wall. His lips curl into an evil smirk as he eyes me down beneath him. 

"Who do you belong to?" He breathes out maliciously. He continues to pump into me. I let out exasperated moans but don't answer.

I was distracted by the amount of pain I would feel later, not only in my hips but my shoulders too.

"I asked you a fucking question." He presses. I wrap my legs around his torso pulling him closer to my body. "Y- you Tom." I gently whisper in between moans.

He smirks down at me, tears gently falling from the corners of my eyes at the pressure. "What was that?" He asks, with venom laced in his tongue.

"You - I - I belong to you Tom. Fuck!"

He leans down placing a kiss on my lips. "Good Girl." He groans out.

"I- I'm com - coming." I moan as I felt my walls tighten significantly around his dick and began bucking my hips harder against him.

He groans as he cums inside me. Throwing his head back in pleasure as he completely finishes. His juices overfill in me, as well as my own. "F - Fuck I missed you." He groans as he pulls out and flops beside me, his chest heaving as he tries to catches his breathe and steady his heartbeat.

I close my legs feeling the juices run down my thighs, smiling at him with a slight sense of comfort and unease at being tied up still. 

"I missed you so much more - now - can you please untie me." I plead. 

He pulls his pants back on and runs his fingers through his hair before leaning over me and beginning to untie his belt from my wrists as he gently kissed my lips repeatedly. The belt created indents and red marks on my wrists. I rub them to ease the pain.

“Thank you." I say as I try to sit up and gather my clothing. But once I stand up out of the bed my knees immediately buckle and I fall onto the wooden floor. I rub my forehead out of embarrassment. "Shit." I mutter.

I look up to see Tom staring down at me from the bed, laughing his head off. "You're a fucking idiot." He joans, gripping his stomach as he topples over from laughing so hard.

"Fuck off." I say, rolling my eyes. He stood from the bed and lifted me up onto the bed again. "Really? I can stand and sit on the bed." I say, annoyed.

"Are you sure about that?" He jokes. I roll my eyes at him.

He begins gathering my clothing and handing them to me. "T - thanks." I mutter, pulling on my shirt and panties and leaning back against the soft mattress. 

He comes and lays next to me. Pulling me against his warm chest and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. 

I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I trace figures onto his bare stomach with my fingers. "Tom -" I murmur quietly against his warm chest.

“Hmm?" He hums. 

" What does this mean?" I ask, looking up into his emerald orbs as they stared down into mine. 

"What do you want it to mean...?" He queries, smiling at me. I rub his chest with my hand, "I - I want you. I forgive you, I -I just want to be with you again." I stutter.

He strokes my hair, running his thumb along my cheek bone. He studied me before answering. "I love you Violet. I know you didnt think I did, that - that I was just pawning you. But I love you - you make me feel. I have never felt anything like this until I met you." He says sweetly.

I studied his masculine features before answering. I noticed how his green eyes sparkled like Aventurine as he looked down at me. His sharp jawline and his messy curled brown hair that fell gently over his eyebrow bone. How his soft, moisturized, blood rushed lips made me melt when he kissed me. He was simply beautiful.

"I slept with Leo." I blurt guiltily out of nowhere. His eyes darken and he tenses up. I felt his hand grip tighter onto my shoulder until he shoved me off.

"Tom -" I plead, but he gets up from the bed and began pacing around the room, running his fingers through his chocolate locks. 

"Get out." He demands, refusing to listen to what I had to say. I heard the anger through his tone. I look at him with clouded eyes, "You're joking right?" I say as I stay put on his bed. 

"Get the fuck out!" He yells,  his words completely filled with a deranged tone. I stay put.

"No." 

He stalks up to me, standing between my legs as they dangled from his bed. He roughly grips my chin and lifts it to look at him. "Violet - get the fuck out now." He demands again as he violently releases my face and paces the room again.

"No." I say with an attitude. "I am not leaving." I continue, crossing my arms around my chest.

"God you're such a whore!" He yells, still pacing the room. He refused to look at me.

I stand up and walk towards him, "I'm sorry did I not just catch you getting your dick sucked by some random ass girl and you feeling another girl up. You're such a hypocrite." I say, anger once again boiling inside of me.

He stops pacing and looks at me finally. He stands staring quietly at me. Clearly unable to produce words to defend himself anymore. His fists were still clenched as he stood in front of me.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, barely moving his lips as the words spilled out of his mouth.

I walk closer to him, looking up into his eyes. "Sorry, I didnt catch that." I say mockingly, even though I had heard him. I just wanted to hear him say it again.

He clenches his jaw, "I'm sorry." He says a bit louder. 

I lean in, cupping my ear. "What was that. You might need to speak up a little Tom -" I mock again.

"I said I am fucking sorry - God Violet!" He yells. 

I click my tongue and smirk at him, "Well - well, Tom Riddle... saying sorry for his action? Wow." I joan.

"Can we just forgive each other?" He asks, looking down at his feet. I smile at him, "I mean I guess -" I say jokingly. 

He looks back up at me and inching closer to me. He wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me closer to him. "I love you." He whispers before he dives down to kiss my lips. 

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. "I love you too." I say between kisses. I felt him smile against my lips. 

[fancifulwhump]

i’m a simple bitch who likes seeing jaskier get kidnapped and geralt having to rescue him lmao

AN:   as you ask, so shall you recieve.   protective geralt going from beast-mode to soft??  that’s my jam, dude

In Geralt’s complete defense, the risks of leaving Jaskier unattended — of which past experience had proven were many — really paled in comparison to a Devourer attack.

Rather, an attack by multiple Devourers, at the same bloody time, with the tenacity of a pack of wild wolves. The flesh-craving beasts showed little interest in a Witcher’s mutated blood. They wanted human flesh, and human alone. A reign of terror stretching on for weeks before Geralt happened upon the poor mining village in the mountains made that clear enough. People could no longer venture from their homes without risk of being torn to bits by a sulking monster. Geralt’s arrival was a blessing to them. Jaskier’s presence — for, having hit a creative dry spell, he'd been following Geralt for the last few weeks, to “fan the flames of inspiration” — was just convenient. 

Geralt never liked using the bard as bait. This had nothing to do with any moral qualms; any time Jaskier involved himself in a kill, things got complicated. He simple had a talent for getting in the way. Trouble was drawn to him like a magnet; rather than avoid it, the idiot almost seemed to invite it. Geralt tried to keep Jaskier out of the way during jobs because bailing him out of danger was more trouble than any amount of coin was worth.

That, and he’d rather not see his companion be mauled or swallowed whole by a monster. 

Sometimes, however, Jaskier’s presence during a job could actually be useful. Like it or not, Geralt had to put him to work.

“This isn’t my first time playing irresistibly seductive meat-sack, you know,” huffed the meat-sack in question, carefully fastening his lute to a pack strung along Roach’s side. When Jaskier looked up at Geralt, his eyes glittered. Whatever thrill he got from being in mortal peril, it was probably worrying. “Practically used to it by now. Could make it a profession. Thank the gods I’m here, too, or what else would you have done? Picked up a nice, juicy steak from the market, and dressed it up like a toddler?”

Geralt snorted, unsheathing a dagger from his belt. It was a small, silver-bladed thing — better for throwing than stabbing, though it could be useful at close range. The hilt was almost too small for his hands. In Jaskier’s, it fit perfectly.

“Only if you need it,” he said. Jaskier gripped the blade, eyes wide with fascination, before nodding and tucking it into his own belt. “Quick slashes. If you have to stab, stab deep.”

Of course, Jaskier couldn’t fight, and he certainly didn’t stand a chance against a monster… but at least he wouldn’t be completely helpless.

So, Jaskier was sent on ahead, and did what he did best — played the oblivious fool. Only when he’d blustered along the mountainside for about ten minutes, leading Roach along as the Witcher silently trailed them both, did their plan show signs of success. In the distance, a few rocks shifted. Pebbles rolled down the mountainside. The faint trill of birdsong went quiet.

Jaskier had been humming to himself, but his voice cut off abruptly. His head raised; he glanced around. That was all he had time to do before a blur suddenly shot out of the cave, launching itself at him.

And another, and another — more than Geralt expected.

In a few swift bounds, he was in the middle of the fray, cutting Devourers down in midair. This was just enough time for the bait to make his escape. With the battle begun, Jaskier leapt on top of Roach and sped off — “somewhere safe”, Geralt had told him.

So maybe Geralt was the fool, for assuming the hapless bard could look after himself. At any rate, he trusted Roach to keep Jaskier out of trouble; the horse always had more sense than he did, anyhow. 

An hour, maybe, or less — that’s how long it took for Geralt, covered in Devourer blood and a few new scratches, to follow the trail his horse and companion left, only to come up empty handed. Not being able to hear Jaskier’s annoying caterwaul was the first sign of trouble. Coming across a lute in the bushes, smashed and abandoned, was the second.

Picking up the remnants of the familiar instrument, Geralt’s hands tightened around the wood; he sighed through his nose, barely able to restrain his own frustration.

Served him right for letting Jaskier near his bloody horse... and letting them both out of his sight.

Witcher senses were better honed for tracking than even the most astute hunter. It also helped that the bandits didn’t bother to cover their tracks well. The left a trail of broken twigs, snapped branches, and footprints behind them. However much of a head start the group — Geralt counted five sets of footprints, maybe six — had on him, it didn’t take long to track them down.

Even so, it took long enough. Too long.

He could smell the blood before the noises reached his ears. Perhaps the senses hit at the same time, and he just didn’t register; as soon as that metallic tang hit his nose, all-too-familiar, Geralt saw red. Blood meant nothing on its own, but this blood held a familiar scent — he’d recognize it anywhere. It was as familiar to him as that annoying voice, or that smirk any time Jaskier said something he thought was particularly funny. Blood could belong to anyone, but Jaskier’s blood was his, and Geralt could smell a lot of it.

Blood, and noise, and shouting — not Jaskier’s voice, but a stranger’s rough tone, spitting venom in a language Geralt faintly recognizes. A horse’s frustrated wail. Sharpening blades. And underneath it all… a strangled whimper.

Geralt found the bandits’ campsite.

As for whatever happened at the campsite… well, he couldn’t be held responsible.

By the time the last of the thieves took off running into the forest, stumbling over himself in horror, the bandits’ camp was utterly quiet. Before his body hit the tree, the big one had been making an awful lot of noise. So was the quick one, when he hissed at Geralt and tried to draw his sword; thankfully, Geralt was quicker. Now, in the silence, with nothing but his heavy breathing as he came back to awareness, Geralt could see everything.

Roach was unharmed, tied to a tree. She stomped her feet as Geralt came closer, as if applauding his quick work… but Geralt’s attention turned in a second, from her to the other side of the clearing. Silence reigned there as well, and it was unnerving. 

Jaskier was never silent. Jaskier didn’t know how to be silent. 

The figure slumped against the base of the tree, chest bound with rope and head bowed, did not make a sound.

The stench of blood grew overwhelming the closer Geralt got. He had to force himself not to focus on it. Instead, he honed in on Jaskier’s heart, beating a steady rhythm in his chest. Not faltering, not stuttering — he was alive, then. Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped Geralt, loud in the silent woods.

Then he saw the blood staining a head of dark hair, trailing down Jaskier’s jaw.

“Shit.” Immediately, he dropped to one knee, hand finding his companion’s shoulder. The battered captive’s face scrunched you in pain when Geralt gripped it. “Jaskier. Hey! Jaskier.” Unwilling to hurt him any further, Geralt shook his companion lightly. “Wake up.”

It was just enough — or maybe the pain from Geralt’s touch pulled him back into wakefulness. Jaskier stirred, head sluggishly rolling on his shoulders. For a moment, he struggled to lift it, as though his skull were filled with lead rather than gray matter. When he finally managed, he blinked sluggishly up at Geralt, pupils blown wide. Concussion, then, Geralt thought, and had to bite back another curse.

“Ah hah — the mighty Witcher!” Jaskier’s head fell back like a doll’s; still, he offered Geralt a wide grin. His teeth were stained with blood, from the busted corner of his lip. “Knew you’d come for me. It was only a matter of time. Caught about half that fight, I think. Just half. Til you threw that one lad down the hill.”

Was it any surprise that even half-senseless, Jaskier still didn’t know how to shut up? Geralt just took it as a good sign that he was talking. While the bard blathered on, he busied himself checking Jaskier over for further injuries. His shoulder was probably dislocated; he’d have some colorful bruises in the morning; there were a few deep scratches along his face and bare forearms, like he’d been dragged through brush…

“Mmm. Geralt. Hey.” Jaskier’s movement was sudden — like a marionette unable to control his own limbs, his arm raised, landing heavily on Geralt’s shoulder. When Geralt looked up, Jaskier’s head was lolling to the side. He seemed to be putting in a valiant effort to stay awake. Half opened eyes remained trained on Geralt, warm with an emotion Geralt could not name, but left him feeling immensely guilty. He should have gotten here sooner. He shouldn’t have let Jaskier out of his sight in the first place.

“Look,” said Jaskier — and, very deliberately, nodded towards the thug still crumpled at the base of a nearby tree. The tree’s trunk had a dent in it. Geralt wished he’d thrown him harder. “In the pockets,” insisted Jaskier, giving Geralt a weak push of encouragement.

Bemused, Geralt made his way over; hoisting the thug’s body up by the back of his jacket, he shook him out for any spare bits. A shower of gold pieces greeted him, along with a pair of rings… and a silver-bladed dagger, stained with blood. Geralt lifted the familiar blade, frowning at it. When his gaze turned to Jaskier again, a grin, bleary but proud, greeted him.

“Jus’ like you said,” Jaskier slurred, then let out a dry crackle of laughter. “I stabbed ‘im deep. And they did not appreciate that, let me tell you —“

“Damn it, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, hand tightening around the blade.

Yet another mistake to tally for the day. Giving Jaskier a weapon was supposed to keep him out of trouble, not damn him deeper.

Without bothering to clean it off, Geralt rounded on Jaskier, blade clutched in his hands. Jaskier’s unfocused gaze tracked his approach with obvious effort. However hard he was trying to stay awake, he was fighting a losing battle. Even so, not a flicker of fear crossed Jaskier’s face at the sight of a hulking Witcher, advancing with a blade in hand.

Geralt cut Jaskier’s bonds in a few quick strokes. As soon as he was no longer bound to the tree, Jaskier slumped forward. It took Geralt’s quickest reflexes to lurch sideways, catching him before he could hit the ground. A dead weight in his arms, Jaskier let out a small moan.

“What is it?” Geralt demanded. As he shifted the injured man into an easier position, Jaskier inhaled sharply, face twisting up in pain. Another groan sounded through clenched teeth, but a second later Jaskier forced a strained smile.

“Kicked me in the chest — more than once.”

Geralt didn’t need to test the statement any further. As gently as he was capable of being, he eased Jaskier back against the tree. Broken ribs would be more of a headache than all of Jaskier’s other injuries combined, but hopefully he didn’t shatter so easily. Human bodies were so fragile; Geralt saw it every day, of course, in the remains of men torn apart by monsters. Seeing it firsthand was different. Seeing Jaskier, of all people, wounded and in pain… something in Geralt’s chest was drawn tight, like a clenched fist, and the more his companion swallowed back sounds of pain, the tighter it got.

“Better get you up, then,” he muttered. Jaskier nodded, face still screwed up. A long moment passed before his hand tightened on Geralt’s shoulder, and it took yet another moment before he managed to hoist himself upright.

Finding his feet was another challenge. Geralt did his best to offer support without brutalizing Jaskier’s injuries further. No sooner did he pull himself up, however, than Jaskier began to teeter. When his gaze slipped out of focus, Geralt’s arm twined around him. He caught him just as Jaskier’s knees began to buckle.

A yell shattered the illusion of quiet around them, ripping through Jaskier’s body like a physical attack. As fresh pain rippled through his chest, he shoved away from Geralt, who released him without protest. For a moment, it seemed certain that Jaskier would topple. His breathing heavy, each gasp an effort that nearly knocked him sideways, he finally managed to find his feet. Wide eyed, he gazed at Geralt, twisting a protective arm around his chest.

“I’m — I’m okay.” Jaskier put a hand up. “I’m fine. But next time — next time I fall, Geralt, don’t bother catching me.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow. In response, Jaskier shook his head. “I can manage on my own.”

And to his credit, he did. He managed to get on Roach, at least, and the horse carried him back the rest of the way. Jaskier didn’t lose consciousness once, no matter how his head lolled or his senses drifted. Geralt didn’t mind the slurred ramblings, weaving their way through utter nonsense. Only when Jaskier went silent did he worry. Each time, he looked up to find his friend fading, blue eyes half-shut, head falling against his shoulder. Geralt gave a bruising pinch to the flesh of his arm, and Jaskier awoke again.

The nearest inn was a night’s ride from their campsite, and it was getting dark already. By the time they made it back, there seemed little sense going any further, especially with Jaskier in his state. He fell into his bed as soon as Geralt had it laid out on the ground, and did not have the energy to raise his head, even when Geralt offered him a sip of much-needed water.

“‘M fine,” Jaskier muttered. His muted tone suggested he was anything but; Geralt wouldn’t argue, though, if rest was really what Jaskier needed. 

“We need to set your shoulder,” he remarked, keeping his voice low for Jaskier’s benefit. “And clean the blood from your head. That wound ought to be bandaged.”

Jaskier nodded along slowly, as thought everything Geralt was saying made perfect sense. His eyes were closed, expression unchanging, so however much he really understood was anyone’s guess. Frowning, Geralt took the liberty of wetting a cloth himself. Hesitating for just long enough to wonder which decisions in his life brought him to this point — to caring so deeply for someone so easily breakable, so human — he set the cloth against Jaskier’s bloodied face. As the grime was sponged away, Jaskier could not help but sigh in relief.

“That’s the stuff,” he muttered. “All I need. Just… rest, Geralt? Can we? Is that okay?”

Geralt considered him for a moment. “Yes, Jaskier. We can rest awhile.”

This was all he needed to hear. Jaskier smiled, setting his head back down on his pack once more; as his eyes drifted shut, Geralt fought off an instinctive flash of worry. Hand tightening around the damp cloth, he brought it back to Jaskier’s face, and continued cleaning the remnants of that bloody encounter.

Next time they faced down monsters, he might think twice about letting Jaskier out of his sight… but no matter what trouble he fell into, Geralt would always be there to pull him out.

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

83 and 84 for the smut prompts. Any ship

83. “How quickly can you come.”

84. “There’s people here.”

NSFW

Read on AO3

“Good to know I’m not the only reason behind your frown lines.” 

Richie leaned against the doorframe of Eddie’s office, watching him scowl at his computer. His husband looked up, ready to lash out at whoever was interrupting him but his expression softened when he saw Richie. 

“Hey Rich. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I had that meeting with the dudes from Netflix and I thought I’d stop by and pay my adorable husband a visit.” He said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “I even brought you lunch.” He held up a paper bag with Eddie’s favorite restaurant logo. 

A soft smile curled along Eddie’s lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Richie shrugged, walking towards the desk and leaning over it to give Eddie a kiss. “You told me you’d have a busy day and usually when that happens, you forget to eat.“

Eddie’s stomach grumbled in that moment. “Fuck, you’re right.”

Richie gave him the bag and Eddie pulled out his (gluten-free) pasta tossed with roasted vegetables and (dairy-free, soy-free) parmesan, giving Richie a grateful smile before digging in. Richie perched up on his desk, telling Eddie all about his meeting while he ate. 

Once the food was gone, Eddie went back to glaring at his computer while angrily typing an email, shoulders hunched and tight in a way that seemed uncomfortable and unhealthy. 

Richie jumped down from the desk, moving to stand behind Eddie’s chair. 

“What are you doing?”

“You need to relax, Eds.” Richie said, brushing his fingers over Eddie’s shoulders. “My back hurts just from looking at you.”

“Your back hurts because you’re old.” Eddie snorted, eyes glued to the computer. 

“Spaghetti gets off a good one!” He laughed. “But I’m serious, you need a short break.”

“Rich, I can’t.”

“But Eds, how can I find my poor husband so terribly stressed and leave him like that?”

Eddie hummed distractedly until Richie started rubbing his shoulders, kneading the stiff muscles, causing him to groan in pleasure. 

“Oh.” Eddie’s hands fell to his lap as he relaxed back against his chair. “Okay, maybe I can take a minute.”

Richie chuckled, applying more pressure while Eddie let out soft sighs. Making a bold decision, his hands moved on to Eddie’s chest, trailing down his front, careful not to mess up his shirt and tie.

Eddie didn’t make a big effort to push Richie’s hands away until they started playing with his belt. When they did he yelped, whirling around in his chair to push a sharp finger against his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just helping you relax, baby.” Richie said, leaning on the armrests and slowly peppering the skin of Eddie’s neck with little, urgent kisses.

“Richie, we can’t.” Eddie said, but he tilted his head back, granting Richie more access. “Seriously. There’s people here⎯ I have a meeting in twenty minutes!” 

Richie bit down on Eddie’s earlobe, whispering against his ear. “Then I better hurry up.” He flashed him a cocky grin before dropping to his knees in front of him.

Eddie cursed under his breath when Richie palmed him over his slacks, feeling how his dick was already half hard. “Shit Eds, I haven’t even done anything.” Richie gasped, watching Eddie thrust his hips against his hand. 

“Shut up.” Eddie muttered, starting to blush. 

He reached down to undo his belt but Richie clicked his tongue, slapping the hand away and doing it himself. "I got this baby, just sit back and relax.”

Richie stroke him over his briefs, seeing a wet spot start to form where he was steadily leaking precome. He couldn’t resist leaning forward and giving it a few kitten licks, causing Eddie to whine and grip the armrests. 

“Rich, we don’t have a lot of time.” Eddie muttered, voice strained and needy. “Stop teasing me.”

Richie would love to keep teasing him, he could do it for hours, but the last thing he wanted was for them to get caught before he could make Eddie come. 

“You’re right.” Richie said, hand slipping inside Eddie’s briefs and pulling his cock out. “Fuck, you’re so hard already.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip trying to keep from crying out as Richie’s hand moved slowly over him. “Richie, please.”

He smirked. “Okay, okay. Let’s see how quickly can you come.” And with that, he took Eddie in his mouth, earning a choked moan from him.  

Richie had to reach down to adjust himself in his jeans. He was hard just from watching Eddie, and having his dick in his mouth only made him harder. He sucked him off in earnest, doing everything Eddie liked to bring him to the edge.

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Eddie groaned as Richie teased at the slit with his tongue, before taking him as deep as he could. Eddie weaved his hand through his hair. “I’m close, Richie.”

Richie pulled back, a string of saliva connecting him to Eddie’s dick, Eddie reached down to run his thumb over his wet lips with a hungry look.

“I got you, Eds.” He said, playfully biting Eddie’s thumb before his mouth returned to his dick. Eddie was biting his lip, trying very hard to stay quiet as Richie picked up the pace until his chest was heaving and his eyes were screwed shut and he was desperate to come. Richie could tell he only needed one last push so he slid his hand down to cup and play with Eddie’s balls.

“Fuck Richie, oh fuck.” Eddie moaned, fingers tightening in Richie’s hair as his orgasm hit. His mouth stayed on him until he’d swallowed everything and Eddie had relaxed back against his chair. 

Richie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back on his heels to stare at his husband. His head was thrown back, an arm slung over his eyes and a dark flush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. He looked sinful, sitting there with his dick out, spent and glistening with spit⎯ Richie was sure that if he reached into his own jeans in that moment, he would come after one single stroke. 

“Stop staring at me, you perv.” Eddie said, opening one eye to peer down at Richie. He had a lazy, satisfied grin on his face and his eyes were shining with affection. 

“Who are you calling perv? You’re the one who let me suck you off in your office.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, glancing down at himself like he only realized that now. “Can you get me some tissues from the first cabinet?" 

Richie nodded, crawling towards the desk and retrieving the tissues. Eddie cleaned himself off and tucked himself back in his pants.

When Richie stood up he hissed, feeling the fabric of his jeans drag against his erection. 

Eddie’s eyes darted to Richie’s crotch. "Do you want help with that?”

Richie really wanted to take Eddie up on the offer but it was probably not a good idea to push their luck, especially since he knew that he would be way too loud if Eddie did as much as touch his cock.

“Don’t worry babe, you can return the favor when you get home.” He said with a wink. “Besides, I’d probably blow my load the moment you touch my dick and I doubt you’d appreciate a come stain on your suit." 

Eddie snorted, he looked a lot more relaxed than before and it made a pleased smile appear on Richie’s face. 

"I’ll make it up to you.” Eddie said, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist. “Thank you for bringing me lunch. And⎯ for the other thing.”

“Anytime, Eds."  

Richie wanted to lean down and kiss him, but he knew that Eddie would scrunch up his nose and whine about Richie not brushing his teeth first, so instead he pressed his lips to his forehead. Eddie hummed happily, his hands squeezing Richie’s sides. 

In that moment the door opened and Tara, Eddie’s secretary, popped her head in. 

"Mr. Kaspbrak, they’re waiting for you.” She said before she noticed that Eddie wasn’t alone. She gave them an apologetic smile. “Oh. I thought your husband left already, I’m sorry." 

Eddie gave Tara a strained smile. "He was just leaving.” He said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded and slipped outside, closing the door.

“Before you say anything⎯”

“You didn’t lock the fucking door?!” Eddie whispered yelled, slapping Richie’s chest with a horrified expression. 

“Ow! I’m sorry, I thought I did.” Richie said, holding his hands up in defense. 

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I love you." 

"I am.” Richie nodded, grinning. “Very lucky." 

A soft smile curled along Eddie’s lips, he tried to hide it from Richie by pushing him towards the door. "Go, now. I have a meeting. I’ll see you at home.”

Richie ducked his head down to press a kiss on his cheek but before he could, Eddie was tilting his head so their lips slotted together instead, taking Richie by surprise. Especially when Eddie’s hand snuck between them to squeeze Richie’s dick through his jeans. 

Richie’s eyes widened and he moaned against Eddie’s mouth, dick growing hard again. “What the fuck, Eddie?" 

"That’s for almost getting us caught.” Eddie said, pulling back and flashing Richie a playful smirk. “Enjoy the walk home, Rich." 

"You little devil.”

Eddie simply shoved him out of his office, waving playfully at him as he closed the door. 

Still facing the door, Richie took a moment to adjust himself, swallowing a groan at the touch. Then he turned around, giving Tara a shaky smile on his way to the elevator.

And if Tara noticed that he was walking a bit funny, she was kind enough not to mention it.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh​​​​ @yes-dillman-yes​​ @richietoaster​​ ​ @beepbeeprichiellc​​ ​ @its-stranger-than-you-think​​ ​ @lemonaayyee​​ ​ @losers-gotta-stick-together​​ ​ @tinyarmedtrex​​ ​ @richiefuckfacetozier​​ ​ @sam-i-am2468​​ ​ @richardtoz​​ ​ @s-s-georgie​​ ​ @reddie-for-anything​​ ​ @eddiefuckinkaspbrak​​ ​ @constantreaderfool​​ ​ @stanleuyris​​ ​ @jesuschristsupruvestar​​ ​ @mirandonsky​​ ​ @reddie4diaster​​ @alargedepresso​​ ​ @purplepoisonedgem​​ ​ @pan-ini​​ ​ @reddie-to-cry​​​ @reddieforlove​​ ​ @trashmouthnick​​ ​ @multi-fandom-wby​​ ​ @wheezyeds​​ ​ @nancynwheeler​​ ​ @reddieslashgeneralhorror​​​​ @madi-personal​​ ​ @reddie-tozibrak​​​​ @lover-mouth​​ ​ @atownofeggs​​ ​ @that-weird-girls-blog​​ ​ @appojoos​​ ​ @castielwinovak​​ ​ @a-gay-treee​​​ @twoidiotsinl0ve​​ ​ @fcngirltrxsh​ @spirited-marvel​​ @typewrxter​ ​(if you want to be added, let me know!)

[crazywritingbug]

Scars - Leonardo

2016 Leonardo x Fem!Reader

So this is an series idea I am playing with so this oneshot is my test run if you will! Let me know what you think in extreme detail. (Especially you @missbeautyandherbeast, you’re my favorite TMNT writer)

Also while I picture this as 2016 TMNT, feel free to use whichever version you prefer! As with all my works, this is SFW even if is angsty.

Leonardo had failed. He knew it the moment he saw the blood dripping down her face and off her chin to splatter to the ground thirty stories below. Three cuts, slicing their way from the edge of Y/N’s pale face inwards toward her raspberry red lips, just barely missing her left eye. 

“Make a move and I drop the girl.” The Shredder didn’t really need to say so. Not with how he held her over the edge of the building, her feet dangling. Leo couldn’t breathe. His failure to protect the one girl he loved had caused this. He’d caused this.

“We can take him,” Raphael muttered from his spot beside Leo. He was tense, ready to attack, probably tired of holding back as Leo had commanded. But he wasn’t ready to risk her life further. Not that Raph knew why. None of them knew about Y/N. She’d been Leo’s secret, his solace, and his light for the past year. He wasn’t going to go into this with some kind of plan. If only he could think clearly enough to come up with one. To come up with some way to break this standoff and save her. Then his gaze met hers and his racing heart skipped a beat at the fear that stirred there.

“Leo…” She spoke, her voice faint from the Shredder’s grip on her throat. “I trust you.”

His racing thoughts stilled. She trusted him. After the way that her ex had treated her, her trust didn’t come easy. But Y/N trusted him. Even if he was the reason she was here, she trusted him to save her. That was all he needed to hear and all he needed to know. He wouldn’t fail her this time.

“You get him.” Leo adjusted his grip on his katanas, slid them into their sheaths. “I’ll get her.” He bolted into action, towards the Shredder. At that moment, every detail came into focus and time slowed.

The Shredder’s release of her neck.

Her H/C locks flying up as she fell down and the air rushing around him as he leaped after her, reaching for her.

The building rushing by.

Fingertips brushing.

The fear in her eyes. 

The ground growing closer.

Then he had her and the world sped up again. 

Pulling her close against him, Leo yanked the grappling gun from his belt and fired it at the building. His shoulder and arm screamed in protest as their descent stopped, swinging towards the building instead. This was going to hurt. Twisting, Leo took the impact on his shell. Glass and metal gave way, letting them tumble painfully into the empty office building. Thank NYPD for evacuating the building. Leo lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and feeling Y/N shake against him. Too close. That had been far too close. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Leo eased himself up into a sitting position, cradling her close as her sobs echoed in the empty building. Somehow, it sunk in all over again just how badly his failure had hurt her, how much danger he’d put her in. But she was here and alive. 

“You’re okay.” He lied sweetly and --hopefully-- soothingly. “It’s okay...you’re safe now. I’m right here…” He pressed a kiss to her forehead as her sobs subsided, even if the tears still flowed. Tears he’d caused. Leo tried to wipe them away, only for Y/N to flinch away when he accidentally brushed the cuts. Crap. He just couldn’t fix this, could he?

“Leo…” She whispered it looking up at him as tears glistened on her lashes. “Your brothers...You need to help them…” His brothers, they were going up against the Shredder. The Shredder, he was going to tear him apart. 

“Think you could get out of here on your own?” He muttered, nothing in him wanting to let her go. She nodded even as he nuzzled her neck, blinking back tears of his own. Could he let her leave so soon? Would she be safe? Even with their allies? “Casey and April are down with the NYPD outside, get to them.” He didn’t have to command it as he did with his brothers. He never did with her. 

“Alright…” She was still trembling as she stood, pulling him up with her. He didn’t know what to say as he looked down at her. Everybody was small compared to him, but Y/N had never looked this tiny or so fragile.

“Be careful Leo,” She whispered, standing on her tiptoes as he kissed her gently, afraid she would break beneath his touch. 

“I will.” He promised, trying to smile for her as he pulled away. “Now hurry.” He hated watching her go, but he had a city to save and quite possibly, an explanation to give his brothers. 

***

Some part of Leo had hoped his brothers had forgotten about how he froze up at the sight of Y/N, maybe forgotten about her completely. Or at least long enough for him to formulate an explanation. Raph didn’t give him that.

“Alright fearless,” Raph snapped as soon as they finished briefing the police chief. “What happened up there? Why’d ya go all misty-eyed over that chick?” 

“Yeah dude!”Mikey chimed in before Leo could answer. “You totally froze like a popsicle.”

“Great comparison Mikey.” Y/N smiled at the turtle in orange as she joined the group.

Leo let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her. She was okay. Her face and neck were clean of blood, even if he could see some dried in her hair that was now pulled back in a messy bun. 

Mikey’s jaw dropped slightly. “You know my name?”

Y/N ignored him as she laid a hand on Leo’s forearm. “Are you alright?” Her voice was soft with worry, her smile vanishing. 

“I’m fine.” He assured her, tucking a hand under her chin and tilting her face to see the wounds better. They weren’t deep looking, but chances were that they would scar. He hated the idea of that. Not because of her appearance, she’d always be beautiful and nothing could change that, but because she’d be forced to wear the consequences of his failure and his inability to protect her.

“Those should be bandaged.” He muttered as her hand moved from his forearm to his wrist, her touch gentle and gaze loving. He didn’t deserve to be looked at like that. Not after today.

“The medic tried,” She said, “The bandages wouldn’t stay, and besides, it’s stopped bleeding.” That didn’t mean they wouldn’t end up infected but Leo held his tongue. He was no doctor.

“Ya planning on introducing us, fearless?” Raph snapped, drawing their attention. Holding back a sharp response, Leo dropped his hand from her face, taking her hand instead. She pressed close, almost shyly. Then again, Raph was glaring while Mikey and Donnie stared. 

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It felt good to say that allowed, to let the precious secret out. She offered a smile and a small wave to his brother’s shocked expressions.

“How’d you catch a cutie like her?” Mikey gaped.

“Mikey…” Leo meant for it to be a warning, but Y/N hadn’t even blushed.

“We’re both just really lucky.” She smiled, squeezing his hand gently, reassuring him. He’d known she was loyal, but seeing that proved made his heart do a small dance. 

“Miss Y/N!” An officer called out. “Your father is here!”

“Thank you!” Y/N answered before looking back at Leo. “I’ll see you later, just make sure to get some rest before I do.” 

“As you wish.” He chuckled at how the reference made her flush. She loved that book, and loved that he had read it for her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring how Raph pretended to gag. He couldn’t help but worry as she walked away. She’d been taken once, what if it happened again? What if he couldn’t save her again? What if he failed all over again on a whole other level? 

“Leo, can you please explain this statistical improbability?” Donnie asked and Leo turned back to his brothers and quite possibly an argument.

***

How could the sight of her cause him so much pain when she was his peace? It was stupid, considering how much he loved her, but he couldn’t stand the sight of the angry red stripes on her face. Even as they began to heal, all that he saw there was a reminder of his failure. Of how he nearly got her killed. It made his heart twist violently in his chest, it made every gentle touch painful and every sweet kiss bitter. He didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t deserve a failure like him.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Leo, are you okay?” Y/N asked as he landed on the fire escape. She always knew when he was struggling with something, she knew when the walls went up inside of him. He needed those walls right then. Yet, even with them, he couldn’t hold her gaze. 

“I…” He had a speech planned out, but it had vanished from his memory. “I’m breaking up with you.” There he’d said it. Plain and simple, like a shattered heart. He watched with a crumbling will as her jaw dropped and pain flooded her eyes. 

“What?” She whispered it at first, but her voice rose slightly as she spoke. “Leo, why? Did… Did I do something wrong?” No never. She could never do something wrong that he couldn’t forgive. He was the one who’d done something wrong. It made it all the harder. Would it be easier...would it be easier if he could get Y/N to hate him? Get her to hate him as much as he hated himself for this?

“No,” He shook his head. “I just can’t do this anymore.” The walls were trembling, crumbling. He had to do this quickly. 

“Do what?” She asked, her voice cracking. He didn’t answer, he was too busy patching up his defenses. “Do what?” Her voice was firm now. “Leonardo! What can’t you do anymore?” He couldn’t tell her the truth. That he was ashamed, that he could barely look at her because all he saw was his failure. 

“Leonardo.” 

“I can’t keep pretending I love you.” There. The lie that would make this easier. Make her hate him. But when he met her gaze, he didn’t see hate there. Just a broken and crushed heart. He noted Y/N hands curling into fists, blinking back tears as anger flooded her eyes. 

“Get lost, Leonardo.” She hissed it. “I never want to see you again.” There, she hated him.

It didn’t make it hurt less.

***

“Leonardo,” Splinter’s voice cut through his gloomy thoughts. “How is Y/N? She has not visited in a while.” That was no help at all. It had been nearly two months since Leo had crushed her. Since he’d spoken to her. And he still couldn’t seem to catch his breath. 

“I don’t know,” Leo muttered, running a cloth over the blade of his katana. How could one sentence cause all of his brothers to freeze? 

“How the hell do you not know how yer own girlfriend is doing?” Raph turned from the punching bag he’d been pummeling. 

“Ex-girlfriend.” Leo corrected, looking back down to his weapons. “We- I broke up with her about two months ago.” 

“That explains your change in appetite,” Donnie muttered even as Mikey gasped.

“Dude, how do you dump a girl like her?” He questioned. Yeah, how could Leo? How could he break her like that?

“Leonardo, you worked well with each other.” Splinter spoke kindly, “She both motivated you to hold yourself to a higher standard and taught you to forgive yourself for your shortcomings. What is it that caused this?” Leo did, because of the one thing he couldn’t forgive himself for. 

“She deserves better.” He grumbled, sliding his katana into its sheath. “I failed to protect her and she paid the price. I don’t deserve her.” 

“Wait this is about the Shedder incident isn’t it?” Mikey asked and Leo nodded. 

“Yer right about one thing,” Raph growled, stalking over to him. “Ya don’t deserve her because yer pride can’t handle being reminded of yer failure every time ya look at her.” The truth sounded so terrible as it hung in the air. It was painful too, but since when was Raph so observant?

“Wait, Raph is right?” Donnie asked and Leo nodded.

“You must fix this.” Splinter instructed. “Y/N has loved you, a tender and precious thing. For you to cast that and her aside will have broken her.” Did she love him? They’d never actually said that they loved each other, not with words, but Leo had never doubted it. Not when he saw it in her stunning eyes, felt it in her touch, and heard it in her gentle tones. But there was no chance that she loved him now.

“Simply put,” Raph rolled his eyes. “Yer an idiot.”

“Way to make me feel better Raph.” Leo grumbled.

“Do you still love her, man?” Mikey asked gently. His youngest brother was always so good at talking things through. 

Leo nodded. “Of course I do. I never stopped and I don’t think I ever will. I wish I told her that. I want to tell her that. But I screwed everything up.”

“Give me yer phone.” Raph held out his hand until Leo handed it over. What harm could it do? She probably wouldn’t answer. All it took was half a minute of ringing for him to be surprised.

“Hello? Leo?” Her voice was as beautiful as ever. A stunning arrow to his heart as they all listened. 

“Hey Y/N, it’s Raph.” 

“Oh hey, Raph.” Was that disappointment in her voice? “What’s up?”

“We need ya to talk to Leo. He’s-” She cut Raph off.

“I can’t.” Her tone was sharp enough to startle him. The last time he’d heard her speak like that was when she was scolding her dog for attempting to chew on his knee pad. 

“I can’t.” She repeated, her voice softer with hurt. “I just don’t think I could handle seeing him right now. I...I still love him, Raph. But it still hurts. After what he said, just seeing his name pop up on my screen when he called hurts.” Leo sank farther into his seat, shame pulling him down even as hope made his heart race. She still loved him? Could he still have a chance? He’d failed to make her hate him, but that was a failure he would gladly live with. 

“You…” Y/N spoke into the momentary silence. “You don’t know what he said do you?”

“No.” Raph shook his head as he answered. “Just that he’s been moping around her for the past two months.” 

“I can’t forget them Raph…” Her voice shook. “Can’t forget that he said ‘I can’t keep pretending I love you.’” Raph cursed but all Leo could hear was the single sob that came from the speaker. He really had broken her.

“I’m gonna beat him to a pulp…” The hothead muttered. “But Y/N, I know for a fact he didn’t mean it. And judging by all his pouting, he regrets it.”

“Don’t mess with me like this.” She was begging. Was she fighting hope like he was?

“I ain’t messing with ya,” Raph assured her. “Just meet with him once, and give the jerk a chance to explain.” Leo never hated silence like he did at that moment.

“Fine. Tomorrow night.” She agreed. “He’ll know where to meet me.” The rooftop of her apartment building and the garden that was there. It was their space, where they’d meet in the dark of the night during the summer and until the cold sent them hiding in her apartment.

“I’ll tell him.” Raph said. “And Y/N thanks. This probably isn’t easy for ya.”

“Not at all.” He could almost see her shaking her head. “Bye Raph.” Leo had just enough time between her hanging up and Raph lunging for him to let out a sigh of relief. He might just have a chance to fix this.

***

When was the last time he was this nervous? This anxious as he waited in their place? There were so many memories here. He could see them everywhere and each and every one had her. Y/N sitting beneath the palm tree in the corner, book in her lap as she scribbled notes. The time they hid behind the rose trellis from the old lady who’d wandered up there looking for a cat. That first kiss. That was a special memory. He’d gotten caught up in a fight on his way there, had been late and arrived to see her pacing with worry. She been so relieved he was alright she’d kissed him full on the lips. He could still see her shy expression as she pulled away, as if suddenly aware of what she’d done. Until he kissed her. 

“Leo?” He spun around at the sound of her voice. She really was there now.

“Y/N.” He could only breathe her name. She was just as stunning as he remembered, her hair falling freely, her gaze searching his face, and the lips he craved. The figure that she hated but he loved, and the necklace he’d given her as a Christmas present. Then she tilted her head and the moonlight fell over her scars. They stood out harshly, beautifully against her skin. How could something so brutal, only make her more stunning and cause so much shame to flood through him?

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say, as he dropped his gaze down to his hands. “I messed up and I lied and said something I never should have and never meant because I didn’t want to admit why I walked away.” There is was. Plain and painful, but truthful.

“So why did you walk away?” He could feel her step closer. “Why did you walk away after I’ve trusted you and…” She hesitated, “loved you? Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me why?”

“I was…I am ashamed…” The words wouldn’t stop and only came faster as she came closer. “I failed, I failed to protect you and you paid the price. I was prideful and ashamed and-” She was close now, he could see her blue sneakers, her hand reaching out and taking his.

“My scars.” She whispered it. “Every time you looked at me, you felt like you failed all over again. Like we’re back on that roof with the Shredder. Don’t you?” He nodded, even as the fear rushed in anew. What would she do? What would she do knowing that he could barely look at her? That she really didn’t deserve him with his pride, selfishness, and failures?

“Leo, I love my scars.” Her words caused his head to jerk up in his surprise. He searched her expression, looking for some confirmation. The soft smile was that.

“Why?” He questioned, “How?”

“I love my scars because they reminded me that regardless of what trouble I get into, you’re always there.” She spoke almost passionately as if she had to convince him. “They remind me that everything will be okay because I am not alone. Because you’re my hero.” Sweet Y/N. So precious, too good for him. He may have been her hero, but she was his angel. 

“I am so sorry…” He pulled her into a hug, whispered the words into her hair, breathing in the sweet strawberry smell that hung around her. “I thought if I could get you to hate me, things would be easier. I never meant what I said.”

“I know.” She pulled back slightly, playing with the ends of his mask. He loved it when she did that. “And Leo, I love you too much to ever hate you.”

“I love you too.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Will you have me back?”

“Of course. So long as you trust me as I trust you--completely.” Their lips brushed even as she spoke. 

“I wouldn’t have any other way.”

Until that night, Leo never knew just how trusting a kiss could be.

[mesmeret]

KPW 2.0 Day 2: Cat Daddy Hux and Juggalo Kylo

Day 2: Opposites Attract! "Boring" Cat Daddy Hux has a crush on his Juggalo neighbor Kylo. Kylo also has a crush on him. Cussing and lemons

Hux’s heart flipped hearing the loud engine of his crush coming up the block. He had no shame being picked up by his neighbor in front of his office building. Strangers and coworkers turn towards the blasting “Funyuns and Condoms”. The brakes screech and the passenger door unlocks. Hux bites his lip so his grin masks as a smirk while he gets into the decade old white Ford F-150 with peeling black and red flame decals.

He buckles in before looking over at Kylo, “Hey.”

“How’s the overlords?” Kylo is glaring at traffic with a pale white base with black lightning bolts painted all over his face. Hux’s stomach flips at how a few go down Kylo’s neck and get muddled with his neck tattoos. Kylo’s lips are bright red with black lip liner.

Hux knows to talk over Kylo’s cussing and singing along with his CDs, “Fucking awful. Brooks stole my work again. The cronies didn’t bat an eye seeing my watermarks. Thanks for that idea, by the way. Fuck, I am quitting next week. Not giving them any opportunity to fire me.”

“Fuck yeah!” Kylo honked his horn and grinned as the cars around them honked back. “They don’t deserve you!”

Hux felt his face heat up. This was one of the reasons he fell hard for Kylo. The man made him feel valuable.

“So what’s next for m-Mister Hot Shot?” Kylo stuttered as they pulled onto the highway.

“I don’t know. Maybe take a week off before looking for jobs?” Hux shrugged.

“Yeah? Cool,” Kylo gets into the fast lane and looks over at Hux. His voice low, “Gonna let your hair down and go wild?”

Hux managed not to gasp, instead he made a choked off nervous laugh, “Me? I was thinking of checking out the summer art exhibits before they go away.”

Kylo pounds his steering wheel, “Dude! You’re killing me! You can do that any time!”

“No, the exhibits are leaving at the end of July,” Hux feigns sulking to get more of a rise out of Kylo.

“M-Sorry, you fucker!” Kylo caught himself from saying Hux’s second least favorite curse word. “I’m worried about you. Those soul suckers have got you whipped. You should, like, I dunno… spend time with me and the guys that week!”

Hux’s toes would curl in his italian loafers if the narrow shoes would let them. He sighed, “Fine. I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right!” Kylo puffed up his chest and belted out the lyrics for the next song on the Bang! Pow! Boom! Album. Hux at least remembered the album name. Kylo also surprised him last week remembering the company names of Hux’s favorite porcelain cat figurines. He stared out at the passing traffic. Maybe he could do something to get Kylo to call him Cat Daddy again? Millie hated the ribbons but if he could bribe her…

A few minutes of traffic later, they pull off the highway and quickly get into their neighborhood. Kylo looks over at him a couple of times before speaking, “Hey, would you like to rehearse your resignation?”

Hux sat up in his seat, “Huh? Yeah, that would help. When did you have in mind?”

Kylo stuttered, “I-uh, got some things to do but I can swing by in, uh, an hour?”

Hux nodded, “Sure. I’ll get Millie settled in with her din-din.”

“Cool!” Kylo yelled and went silent with wide eyes. Hux frowned a little but got distracted with Kylo’s arm bracing the back of his seat as Kylo pulled the truck into reverse to parallel park. Hux knew the tattoos were crude and chunky. But their canvas gave them far more allure. Hux didn’t have time to give into the temptation of nuzzling Kylo’s biceps because the man was an impressive parker.

They parted ways and Kylo stomped up to his apartment in his oversized jeans and baggy t-shirt. The clothes made him look absurdly giant. Hux loved it. Once he got into his apartment, he went straight to the kitchen to prepare Millicent’s meal as she mrrp’d her way around his feet. He hummed along with her as he mashed up some wet food with her kibble. He set the bowl down and gave Millicent her privacy as he headed into his bedroom. He took off  his dress shirt and slacks. He stared at his closet drawing a blank. What would Kylo like him in? Kylo hardly comments on his clothes. Hux sighed grabbing a white t-shirt and gray lounge pants. Why was he so boring? He flushed at the thought of getting Kylo to give him a makeover. He’d look absolutely ridiculous but Kylo would have his hands all over him.

Hux went into the living room and tidied up the little messes from the past few days. Millicent watched him from her cat tree with her tail swaying to and fro. He came over to kiss the top of her head. She scrunched her eyes and shook her head. He snorted, “I know, so embarrassing. But you’re so cute!”

She squinted at him as he scritched behind her ear. Long orange hairs started to shed. He looked at his watch and decided he could start brushing her coat before Kylo came over. He scooped up Millicent and she gave a chirp seeing him grab the brush kit. He was blessed having a cat who enjoyed grooming. He got most of her back done when there was a knock on the door. Millicent darted to the cat tree as Hux dumped the cat hair in the kitchen trash. He answered the door and was startled to see an unsettling version of Kylo.

Kylo looked normal. He was without his makeup in a black polo and khakis. His hair was tied in a bun. Hux felt sad seeing Kylo’s septum piercing flipped up and hidden. Kylo’s skin was splotchy and textured due to his Kryolan paint stick routine. Hux felt oddly reassured that Kylo wasn’t too perfect. Hux has seen him shirtless with his face painted up and spent many a night stroking to the visuals.

“I-um, thought we could role play?” Kylo shrugged.

Hux blushed realizing he had just stood there staring, “Oh! Wow, you really didn’t need to change. I liked the lightning today. A lot.”

Kylo muttered under his breath, “Fucking dumbass.”

Hux froze, “Excuse me?”

Kylo looked more shocked than Hux felt, “Me! I meant me! I’m the fucking dumbass!”

Hux shook his head, “No you aren’t, come on in.”

Kylo frowned but followed Hux to the couch. Hux’s heart fluttered as Kylo sat next to him, “What’s going on, Kylo?”

Kylo looked at him with a shy glance before looking ahead, “I thought you’d like me more like this? I thought if we roleplayed you quitting your job, we’d-” Kylo takes a deep sigh, “I thought we’d then like makeout or something ‘cuz the past couple of months have been crazy, y’know?”

Hux gulped and tentatively placed his hand over Kylo’s white knuckled fist, “I think you’re hot. But as you usually dress and stuff. This is very different but I see my Kylo. Though...”

Kylo goes cross eyed as Hux flips his septum piercing and bursts into deep laughter, “What the fuck! You’re freaky, Hux!”

Hux blushed, “I guess? Do you like it?”

Kylo’s voice cracked before going bone deep, “Uh, yeah. It’s really fucking hot… babe.”

Hux whined as his body went numb with arousal, “Could we… do something else than role play quitting my job?”

Kylo moaned, “Like what?”

Hux got up to straddle Kylo’s lap. Kylo’s eyes widened and his hands hovered before gripping Hux’s hips. Hux whispers while tugging on Kylo’s polo shirt, “Wanna see your chest again.”

Kylo gave a little nod and pulled off the polo. Hux moaned at the sight of the loosened bun, defined muscles, and garish tattoos. His fingers traced thick lines that trembled. Kylo whined and bucked up. Hux gasped as he slid further into Kylo’s lap and had to brace himself against Kylo’s chest. Kylo grunted, “Permission to kiss?”

Hux gave a nod before kissing Kylo. He sighed at how nice Kylo’s lip and tongue piercings felt. He gave a tentative roll of his hips and Kylo seized with a yelp. Hux hummed in delight feeling the pulse of Kylo’s dick against his. Kylo pulled away from the kiss with a dazed look, “Fuck, I didn’t bring condoms.”

Hux bit his lip, “I’m good with not rushing things. I really do like you. And, ah, would like to fuck when you’re all done up.”

Hux now knows that when Kylo’s eyes widen slightly, his cheeks go bright red. This revelation makes Hux kiss Kylo deeply. Kylo gives a confused sound but goes with the kiss. Hux pulls away when he finally needs air. After catching his breath, he whispers, “I can’t believe you like me.”

Kylo scoffs, “I can’t believe you like me. You of all people.”

Hux whines, “Hush, of course I like you. You’re like my best friend and crush.”

Kylo whimpers squeezing Hux’s ass, “I’m your what?”

“My crush-Ah!” Hux arches his back as Kylo rips his lounge pants. Hux shivers as fingers press through the tear to bare skin. “Nngh! Fuck, tear them more.”

Kylo does so looking up at Hux with a growl. Hux grunts as his cock drops down from the torn confines onto Kylo’s palm. It’s an awkward hand job but feels great. Hux’s mind whites out as Kylo leans up to suck on his neck. The other hand reaches over to press two fingers against Hux’s ass. Hux screeches as the fingers rub frantically with the fist around his cock. He goes limp as his cock twitches.

Kylo mouths his neck lightly before flipping them over. Hux whines as Kylo pulls away to take off his cum stained khakis. Kylo also didn’t bother with underwear and strokes himself while looking down at Hux. Hux studies Kylo’s cock and is a little bummed there’s no piercings visible. Kylo straddles him and moans as his cock head bumps against Hux’s small paunch. Hux blushes deeply once he realizes Kylo is writing his name on Hux’s belly. Hux whispers, “I’d get it tattooed there. Or a tramp stamp.”

Kylo’s eyes bulge and his breathing goes haggard, “Fuck, really?”

Hux bit his lip nodding. Kylo grunted as he came all over Hux’s belly. Hux kissed him softly, “Seriously. Maybe you could help me with the aftercare?”

Kylo snorted and shook his head, “Nah, that’s like ten year anniversary shit.”

“Oh, I guess you’ll just have to cum your name on me until then,” Hux feigned disappointment. “Maybe get me a collar or belt?”

Kylo chuckled, “Fucking freak.”  

Hux smirked, “You have no idea.”