#like my urge to give this man a sandwich and a forehead kiss was so strong

[strafepanzer]

continuation of this. cw threesome & light rimming

bakugo is on top of you, fingers deep in your wet heat, exploring roughly as you buck and whine beneath him. fuck, you're beautiful all sweaty and flushed, ethereal naked and panting beneath him.

shouto disappeared not long after the foreplay started, muttering something about the bathroom and carrying on without him.

"c'mon, bakugo," you whine, grabbing at his shoulders, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him close. "i need you to put it in me," your glassy eyes stare up into his. "please,"

he groans when you beg, mind briefly drifting to the fact that shouto sees you like this all the time. he bites his lip, then kisses you like a man starved. he doesn't stop fingering you, continues until you're shaking and squirting beneath him.

it's when you're completely boneless that he rubs himself over your slippery heat, nudges and pushes slowly into you, holding his breath until he's fully inside you.

"fuck..." he breathes, watching how you react, how you slowly arch into him, how your eyes shimmer with the promise of more.

"oh my god," you groan, reaching for him again, clawing at his back until his weight is pressing against you, your mouth at his ear. "so... thick, fuck,"

bakugo is so lost in you that he doesn't even register the bed dipping behind him.

you hold him there, legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, kissing skin, licking at his sweat.

then hands are at his waist, lips at his spine, tongue tracing his vertebrae.

he freezes. tenses up. is this--? does he want this?

"he's gentle, i promise," you rock up against him, nudge your forehead against his. "do you not want it?"

"d-" his voice cracks, his hands fisting the sheets by your head. "depends what it is."

shouto chuckles. "I'll only go as far as you let me," he soothes, those hands drifting slowly down katsuki's hips until they run over the globes of his ass.

"y-you gay or something?"

"he's not straight," you laugh. "but we both think you're really hot, and we' both like to enjoy you."

katsuki can't say he's completely straight either, but he is no way ready to be penetrated. "just..." he takes a deep breath, turns his head a little to meet shouto's eyes. "you can play with me, but don't go shoving your cock in. 'm not ready for that yet."

"i'll make you feel good, bakugo," shouto promises, leaning up and over bakugo, pressing a kiss to his hair; he then pushes bakugo against you with his body weight, meeting you over his shoulder in a slow, wet, clash of lips.

the wet sounds have bakugo twitching inside you, and you moan as he begins to give into the feeling, humping into you best he can while sandwiched between you and shouto.

shouto lifts up, giving bakugo room to pull out and push back in, and in moments, the hotel room is filled with moans. your heat pulls him in, and he feels like melting into you, enjoying how blissed out you look underneath him.

as he edges closer, he feels shouto's lips decend the length of his spine, kissing and sucking down his back until he reaches his ass.

"keep going," shouto urges, noticing how bakugo slows when shouto's hands spread him open.

"baby, he might not be ready," you interject, breathing evening out with bakugo's slowed movements.

"it's fine, i'm fine, you-- shouldn't be talking," he grits out, thrusting into you harshly, embarrassed that you came to his defence over half-and-half.

you grin, bottom lip sucking in between your teeth. "that all you got?"

moments later, bakugo's coming; his dick kissing your cervix, shouto's tongue in his ass.

[mtchee]

Boy's Like You - [Iwaizumi Hajime] GN

blurb:

a socially anxious new transfer fitting in with the rest. Trending accessories, makeup looks, the latest lingo, and everything else it takes to blend in with the masses. And everyone is just head over heels for the Seijoh boy's volleyball pretty boy setter! So, why wouldn't you be? Oh, right. Because his best friend's actually way hotter. And playing pretend with everyone else has been getting a little difficult recently...

cw: not edited, sfw, fluff, mild social anxiety, fear of social isolation, fear of not fitting in, classic kabedon, kissing, second-person-pov, pretty sure i wrote this two years ago, my writing has changed drastically from this but the idea was too cute so here :)

| masterlist | haikyuu collection |

[4.7k words]

Try, try, try, To follow the rules~ I break everyone of them with boys like you.

Summer rolls in sooner than anyone remembered—the sun beams brighter than before, flowers holding out under the heat, the brush taking advantage of the weather to grow in every odd nook and cranny it can reach.

"[name]!" Yumi, your strawberry haired friend, squeals as you meet outside the gymnasium alongside the ever growing crowd of giddy female students, "quick—QUICK! We gotta snag the seats at the front before anyone else takes them!"

Not giving her soft-spoken friend anytime to reply, she links your arms together and uses her free elbow to make a pathway through the crowd.

You yelp and use your bookbag to shield yourself from any stray flying limbs.

Somehow managing to get through, you find yourselves smack dab in the front bleachers of the gymnasium, meeting with another friend of yours.

"Took you long enough," Tika, the bronze toned girl greets briefly, pulling your bookbag towards her and sandwiching the you between the two of them.

"Sorry, but the crowd was wild," Yumi laughs before squealing, fixing her bouncy curls at the sight of the Aoba Johsai boys volleyball team leaving the locker rooms, "omigod OIKAWAAAA~!"

Her voice crescendos into a higher pitch, though it was almost drowned out by the squeals of the other girls surrounding them.

You wince before reluctantly dropping your bag and feigning enthusiasm, cheering for the infamous captain as well.

You jump as Tika embraces you from the side excitedly, "Isn't he just the coolest!?" You nod rapidly, fighting for breath at the girl's tight grip.

Your eardrums almost burst as the screams grow louder, the pretty boy setter having blown a kiss towards the bleachers.

You fight the urge to shrink back at the others' aggressiveness, eyes searching for the famed male before slowly drawing to a stop at the sight of another.

Iwaizumi Hajime. Aoba Johsai's male volleyball ace.

The pretty boy setter's best friend.

Unbeknownst to you, your face warms at the sight of him, tuning out the squeals of those surrounding you. Your heart jumps, muting a squeak as he uses his shirt to wipe away a bead of sweat on his forehead.

You swear you'd be the only one in the crowd pinning after him instead of the captain.

"..ame].. name]!.. [name]!" You're quite violently shaken out of your thoughts, "DID YOU SEE HIS SERVE!?" Yumi jumps up and down giddily, "he winked at us, he totally winked at us!"

You blink, "W-wait, what?"

"Hell yeah he did!" Tika fist pumps, "hello, are you blind? Oikawa totally just looked at us right now! Weren't you watching?" She gives you an incredulous look.

"Oh, yeah!" A wavy smile plasters itself on your lips, "he's... totally into us, right?"

"God I hope so." Yumi laughs at Tika's brashness, you following along half-heartedly as your eyes drift to the dark haired ace practicing on court.

"Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head—" Our dearest protagonist paces back and forth in front of the mirror in the room, nipping annoyingly at the nail on your thumb before dropping onto your bed, cradling your head dramatically, "why can't I get him out of my head?!"

This man was going to ruin it for you! You'v had a hard enough time at school as it is! How the hell were you suppose to deal with this?

You aren't suppose to like him--you weren't planning on liking anyone really. Being a transfer halfway through the year was hard as it was; everyone already had their set friend groups and most clubs were already full. So, what better way to fit in than to follow everyone else?

So that's exactly what you've done. 

You styled your hair when it was in fashion, you wore glittery (albeit sometimes off putting) jewelry when it became a trend, and you wore your cardigan a certain way when you saw others were doing it.

In this, you made quick friends with Yumi and Tika, who were honestly already the friendliest people you've ever met. 

Although Yumi adored pretty things, she never let anything touch her hair--and even though Tika had fun messing around with fashion, she never let a certain style define her.

Over a short amount of time, you learnt that you could be a bit more yourself with these two, and they loved you nonetheless.

But fearing they would have nothing in common (which would lead to them abandoning you, and laughing at you, and humiliating you--and totally not just you overthinking things), you forced herself to like the same guy everyone liked.

At first, there wasn't a hitch. But as time went on, it got more difficult. Because not only did you never like him in the first place, but you began to find yourself falling for his broad shouldered best friend—who, coincidentally, was also one of the first people you met when you had transferred.

Being in the same class, he had been tasked with giving you a tour and showing you the ropes. At first glance, you were terrified. Big school, big change, (big hot guy curtly leading you around everywhere...) it was a nightmare.

But then as you got to know him, you realized that it wasn't all too big and scary. Sure, he was--but he was also patient (at least with you) and reliable. He had an intimidating presence, which overtime, developed into a feeling of security for you. He was strong, but gentle, and practical too. In other words...

Boyfriend material.

And totally your type.

and it absolutely doesn't hurt that he's a total hottie too yes that's a bonus

"Oohh," You huff out, dragging your hands down your face, "what am I going to do...?"

Ring! Ring!

Your flurry of thoughts are broken by the sound of your phone, the screen lit up with the name of a certain pitchy-voiced friend, followed by a plethora of flower emojis along with a panda bear.

"MILK BREAD!" Picking up the phone, you reel back at the sound of Yumi's shrill shriek.

"What?"

"Milk. Bread. [name], his favourite food is MILK BREAD--"

"Milk bread? I thought it was that tofu dish-" You glance at the latest volleyball magazine sitting idly on your blankets, pages open and facing down.

You pick it up, cutting yourself off mid-sentence as you realize you found yourself looking at one of the pages containing information on Aoba Johsai's male team members, more specifically, Iwaizumi.

"A-Ah!" Your eyes widen, face hot despite being the only one to witness your embarassment as you quickly flick to the pages dedicated to Oikawa Tooru instead.

His section took up two full pages, the media obviously biased.

"Tofu..? Isn't that that other guy's—"

"AHAHAHA," You cut Yumi off with nervous laughter, "MILK BREAD! I-I see!"

"YES!" You let out a silent sigh of relief at your friend's easy distraction, "isn't he just the cutest? Oh! I know! (Y/N), we should totally make him some! I could give him some sugar treats too to boost his energy!"

You give a confused hum, "Make it?"

"Yeah!" Yumi giggles on the other end of the phone, "it can be a joint effort! You can bake, right? You could make the milk bread, and Tika and I could try work something out with the sweets." She lets out a gasp, "We could give it to him at his next game!"

You pause before breaking into a sweat. At his next game? You want to fit in, but you don't actually want to be noticed by him. And then there was a chance Iwaizumi would see and oh dear god—

"U-Uh, how about we give it to him sometime during training instead? That way we have more of a chance to... catch him alone! Yeah, there will probably a heap of others wanting to give stuff to him before his big game, so..."

Yumi seems to fumble with her phone momentarily, "Oh, you're SO right! Why didn't I think of that? Thank god we have you here. We should give it to him on Tuesday! He doesn't have practice then, but we could catch up with him after school instead!"

"Sure," You nod to yourself, "we can do that."

"YOSH!" Yumi celebrates, "let's all talk about this together tomorrow. I still need to call Tika about it."

"Isn't she at basketball practice?"

"Ah, right. Oh well, we'll just tell her tomorrow then. See you at school, cutie!"

You huff out a laugh, "See you at school..!"

Just as planned, you and the other two hurried out of class on Tuesday to wait near the school gates for the infamous volleyball captain, having worked hard over the weekend to make his special treats.

Not actually wanting to try get on the setter's radar of fangirls, you handed off the little bag of milk bread to Tika to hang onto with the excuse you weren't feeling too good.

Your plan was foiled when Yumi dragged you back, grumbling about your flighty nerves. "Damnit, Yumi..." You mutter under your breath, struggling to unhook your arm from her sudden goddamn gorilla strength.

"This is our only chance to really get noticed by him!" Yumi yanks you closer with a pretty pout, "plus, you worked hard on these..."

"Look! Here he comes now!" Tika points towards Oikawa's figure, accompanied by another, "eh? who's he with?"

"Oh, that's just Iwaizumi," Yumi brushes off, tightening her grip on you and her little gift bag in excitement, "Oikawa-kun~!"

"Wait, Iwaizumi?" You perk up at the name before breaking out into a sweat, straightening up in alarm as the duo approach.

'I can't let him see me giving this to Oikawa! He'll get the wrong idea! But, then again, if I want people to think I like Oikawa... would I even have a chance with him anyway? Does he even remember me?'

"Yaho~" Oikawa greets with a wink, "is there something you need?" He steps closer whereas Iwaizumi stops a few feet away, arms crossed boredly. You shy behind your two bolder friends who happily bask in his attention.

Your eyes glance towards the male's darker haired companion who waits impatiently, looking off in the distance in disinterest. Your mind drifts as you tunes out her friends' conversation, eyeing the volleyball ace fondly.

'It's been a while since I talked to him... ...maybe I should say hi?'

Your eyes slowly drawl down his figure, swallowing in growing fluster at the outward curve of his muscular thighs and the bend in his toned waist. You panic.

'Oh... oh my god I'm a creep--'

"Oh? And who's this behind you two?" Oikawa's curious peek towards you causes you to freeze. You take in a sharp breath as your friends move out of the way and pull you forwards.

"This is [name], they're a bit nervous talking to you." Yumi introduces, not noticing her friend's face warming in embarrassment, "[name]'s the one who made the milk bread!"

Your eyes widen as you sees Iwaizumi look over at the sound of your name. He tilts his head before stepping forwards.

'Oh no. Oh no oh no—'

"Did you now?" Oikawa gives a closed eyed grin, "well, I just have to try it since you've worked so hard on it!" He hums at your still silence, "my, you are a shy one, aren't you? That's alright. Rather adorable if I say so myself~"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Yumi squeals, grip tightening on your arm, "did you hear that, [name]?" Her voice is way too loud for someone virtually phased into her side.

Tika laughs her signature closed eyed laugh, crows feet crinkling at her eyes when she gazes fondly at her shier companion, "I couldn't agree more on that one. [name] really does their best, but they're too scared to get any attention for it."

"Tika...!" You warn quietly, heart racing as Iwaizumi nears. You could hear all the bloos rushing to your head.

"Oh?" The chestnut haired setter leans forwards teasingly, "so you do speak." He smiles at you charmingly, face leering close to yours. You lean back with a sharp breath, startled at the sudden proximity.

"I-I just... uh.."

"Oi, shittykawa." Your stomach drops at the sound of the familiar voice, "stop bothering them. You've wasted enough of their time already."

"Psh," The setter huffs playfully, "you're no fun, Iwa-chan." He yelps, barely dodging a hit from his friend.

"Ah, hello, Iwaizumi-san!"

"Hi, Iwaizumi-san."

"I-Iwaizumi-san!" You greet quickly, eyes averted from his figure.

You don't deserve to look at him after oogling him not so respectfully earlier.

"[name]-san," He nods towards you with a light smile, "how have you been recently? Is the classwork alright?"

"Yes! Everything is.. fine. T-Thank you for asking."

He hums, satisfied with your response before turning to Oikawa with a sudden scowl, "Come on, trashykawa. Otherwise I'm leaving you behind." The spiky haired student glances towards you one last time, a peculiar look flashing in his eyes before he turns and walks away.

"Don't leave me!" The setter pouts, "sorry, we'll catch up more next time, hm? See you later~" He sends the trio a wink and a smile before chasing after his friend who's already abandoned him past the gates, "and thanks for the milk bread, [name]-chan!"

Your nose twitches slightly.

You don't quite like how familiar he addresses you already.

From that day forward, You were deemed as their lucky charm to being noticed by Oikawa, much to your dismay. Every now and then, whenever they had the chance, Yumi and Tika would more often than not drag you out of class as soon as they could in hopes of catching Oikawa before he left for afterschool practice, and more often than not--succeeding.

This only caused more of a blunder for you though. Since you were in the same class as Iwaizumi, not only did simply being in the same room as him distract you, but whenever you were pulled out of class for the volleyball captain, he was often witness to it. Usually sporting a rather prominent frown.

It seemed like every time you were forced to meet with Oikawa, Iwaizumi was also there. You don't know whether to feel humiliated or relieved.

On one hand, this solidified your alibi in liking the pretty boy setter, but on the other, you were coming into contact with your real crush way too often. 

Recently, you'd managed to find a good few excuses to get out of looking for Oikawa, and no longer attended many of their practices to avoid the crowd of fans. But this lead to you sticking behind after class rather than leaving immediately—meaning you were left behind with Iwaizumi.

And a few other stray students, but they didn't matter.

Being left alone, he always approached you before he left for practice, usually just a quick check in on how you've settled.

But in recent times, your conversations lasted a little longer than the usual "how are things going?" and stretched over to your interests, likes and dislikes, and eventually, anything that came to mind.

"Hey, [name]," Iwaizumi stops by your desk with a soft smile.

"Iwaizumi, hello!" You look up at him with a sheepish grin, picking up your bookbag, "um, practice today?"

The male grunts in affirmation, "Yeah, we've got a game on Saturday," he swipes your bag from you (dodging your poor attempts to snag it back) and waits for you by the door before you could head down the hallway together, "will, uh... will I see you there?"

"Mm, yeah, probably," You shrug, "Yumi and Tika'll make sure I go. I've got to make some milk bread for Oikawa again." Iwaizumi's eyes drop to his feet with a frown, his tone flat.

"Oikawa, huh?"

You glance at him nervously from the corner of your eye, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, "M-Mmm. Uh, Yumi asked me to." You spy his frown softening in time with a tired sigh.

"She asked you to?"

"Yeah. Tika's making him some sort of iced tea too, I think."

"Hm." Iwaizumi thinks to himself for a bit, leaving an odd silence between you momentarily. He slows his pace, eventually coming to a stop in the empty school corridor. You stop a little ways ahead of him, noting the thoughtful look on his face.

"Iwaizumi?"

"Hajime."

"Bless you."

He rolls his eyes before repeating himself.

"Hajime," The thought filled glaze in his eyes disappears when he looks at you, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your expectant expression, "call me Hajime."

You blink, '...oh. That's what he said.'

'OH MY GOD--DID I JUST SAY BLESS YOU???'

"Go, go, go! Go, Seijoh!"

"Go, go, go! Go, Seijoh!"

The court reverberates the cheers from the bleachers, encouraging the team warming up below.

"OIKAWA-SENPAIIIIIIIIIII!" Yet somehow the fangirl screams are louder.

"Over here, Oikawa-san!"

"Oikawa~! I believe in you!"

"Oikawa-san, fighting!"

They only grow louder as the Captain blows them a kiss. He chuckles to himself as he sets off to the side of the court for a drink before continuing his stretch.

"Oi, trashykawa," Iwaizumi stands up from fixing his knee brace, "tell them to shut it, would you? It's giving the rest of us a headache-"

"Oikawa-san!" He's cut off by two voices calling for said male by the court entrance. Turning around, they see a familiar trio waving him over. Iwaizumi purses his lips at the sight of you there with a little gift bag in hand. No doubt it's for the setter.

"Ah, give me a minute, Iwa-chan," Oikawa grins at him, "I've got a few other fans to talk to first~." Iwaizumi watches him walk off with a frown, features darkening at how you shy away from his friend with in a fluster.

He takes in a deep breath before sighing, a solemn look of acceptance on his face as he glances at them one more time, seeing Yumi and Tika giggling happily before rushing away to the stands, waving goodbye. He furrows his brow as their quieter friend stays behind, Oikawa leaning in close with a teasing smile.

Unable to keep watching, he huffs in frustration and stands up from the bench, resuming his stretching on court.

"Iwa-chan~ Oh, Iwa-chaaaan!"

"What?" Oikawa pouts at his friend's dismissal.

"Don't be mean, Iwa-chan, come here!"

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at his insistence, "What do you wa—hey!" He reels back as Oikawa thrusts a small gift bag in his face.

"Lookie here! Don't you want it~?"

He scrunches his nose in distaste, "I don't want your stuff, shittykawa."

"It's a good thing it isn't mine then~," Oikawa drawls out, "I was given specific instructions to hand it to you." He grins as his words peak Iwaizumi's curiosity, "seems to me you've got yourself a shy little fan, Iwa-chan."

The ace stares at him for a bit, silently debating whether or not to believe him before grabbing the bag dangling in front of him. His face remains expressionless as he opens it until he reads the little note resting inside of it, along with a few of his favourite sweets—all homemade.

'Something to give you a little more energy, just in case! Good luck, you've got this!'

His heart thuds in his chest and he looks up, eyes catching onto the remaining figure half hidden behind the doorway. You give him a sheepish wave, having not reacted in time to hide, before quickly making your way to the stands. A small smile rests upon his lips at the sight of you, and Oikawa's grin widens.

After finding out about his dear friend Iwa-chan's crush on his supposed 'fangirl,' Oikawa took it upon himself to try getting you together.

At first, he tried befriending you, only to find you pushing him away. Then, he tried finding excuses to have the two of you see each other, but became rather confused as he found you more often than not trying to avoid Iwaizumi.

It was apparent to him that you weren't ignoring him by any means, but you would, however, scurry away from him on every other occasion. And to make it even more confusing, he spotted you amongst the crowd with his fangirls, along with your friends.

So what else could he do other than snoop around a bit?

After bugging his friend, he found out that you met since you were a transfer in his class, and that you had a bit of a fear of sticking out. So he dug a little deeper.

With ease he managed to approach Yumi and Tika, and oh so inconspicuously managed to bring up the topic of their friend. You.

"[name]'s nice," Tika had told him, "they're pretty on top of their studies; at least I think so. [name] helps me out a lot and works around my schedule to help me since I've got basketball practice."

"Oh, and [name]'s so cool!" Yumi added, "they're always on top of the latest trends! Like what they did with their hair that one time? [name] fits in so well. They say they like to try a heap of things, so they relate to a lot of stuff. [name] doesn't really like standing out too much though, you know? Gives them the jitters."

And so comes his next target, you.

Various times, he tried to corner you, and failed. By himself he kind of figured out that you wanted to follow your friends, and so by them liking him, you liked him too.

His final plan—resorting to emotional manipulation at its finest to get the results he wanted.

Jealousy.

Now, in no way would you outright tell anyone that you liked Iwaizumi, and he knew that. So the only other way was to somehow get you to admit it to Iwaizumi himself.

Oikawa knew his best friend didn't beat around the bush. He was reliable and direct, and head strong to a near fault if not for his emotional awareness. Knowing that he was a confrontational person, if he could just make him jealous enough to talk to you about it...

He carried out this little plan for the following two weeks. Through the help of your friends not that they knew he got a little closer to you each and every day, with Iwaizumi as his witness. Though, just to help his friend out a bit, Oikawa would say a few good things about him to you, just to keep you on your toes.

And soon enough...

His plan worked!

"Cutie-chan!"

"Oi, [name]!" Yumi and Tika barrel into your classroom a few moments after the bell, "hurry up! We gotta move if we wanna catch Oikawa before the rest get there!"

"Ah, sorry guys," You wave them over, "I'm on cleanup duty with Hajime today, so I'll be late anyway. Don't wait up for me, okay?"

"Aww man." Yumi pouts, though her excitement renders her unable to stay any longer "if you say so. We'll call you later!"

"Next time then, alright?!" Tika pumps her fist determinedly before waving goodbye, "don't strain yourself!"

"See you tomorrow!" You call out after them, shaking your head lightly at the sound them calling back over their shoulders. "Hajime-san, you can head to practice of you want. I can handle it... and I don't want you to keep your team waiting."

"No, it's fine," The male shakes his head, "I wanted to—I don't want you to be stuck afterschool for so long." He cuts himself off, grabbing the mop from the supply closet.

"Ah, alright... Thanks."

The two of you indulge in idle chatter for the next fifteen minutes or so, too caught up in your small conversations to notice that you've almost finished cleaning within a matter of time. In a spare moment of silence, Iwaizumi furrows his brows as he thinks to himself.

You begin packing up the remaining supplies, "Whew, hey, we did well."

"Mm? Oh, yeah," Iwaizumi nods, partially lost in his thoughts.

"I wonder if I can still catch up to Yumi and Tika..." You wonder aloud, picking up your bookbag hanging over the back of your chair, "Oikawa-san would be in the gym by now, right?"

"[name]," You jump as Iwaizumi closes the supply closet door a little too roughly. He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, "do...do you like Oikawa?"

You froze, stuck between lying to save your anxious ass and being a people pleaser and saying the truth.

His back is turned towards you, head leant down with one of his arms propped up against the door. His broad shoulders rose and fell with his deep breaths, his body tense. He looks... kinda hot scary.

"Oh, what? Why?" Your hand falls to your side, bag remaining slung over the back of the chair. You tilt your head at him, "are... you okay, Hajime?" You flinch as his head snaps up towards you. His eyes peering at you as he drops his arm, brows furrowed with his eyes expressing... not anger but--something else entirely.

"No," He heaves out a breath, unable to just shake it off this time around, "because I'm getting so many mixed signals, and I've tried to be patient, really, but damnit [name], it hurts you know?" He shakes his head and straightens himself up as he steps towards her, "just... I need you to just tell me, alright?"

Your mouth opens and closes, head dizzy but still no sound comes out. He likes you? Like, actually? 'Wait, no he didn't actually say that though. He's just being protective, right? what is happening right now--oH HE'S GETTING CLOSER WHATDOISAY-'

"W-Why this all of a sudden? What's Oikaw--" Backed against the desk, you stiffen with a squeak as he turns around steps forwards purposefully, panicking when he uses his arms to barricade you in.

'OH I SAID THE WRONG THING WHY WOULD I SAY THAT-'

"Out with it." At your fluster, his frown disappears and his eyes soften, something more gentle lacing his tone.

"[name]," You almost shiver at the sound of your name falling from his lips, "yes, or no? Don't—Don't say his name. Just tell me," his gaze trails up to meet yours again, his eyes strong enough to make your heart stop.

He falters slightly, "...do you—" 

'holy shit-'

Before you could even register it, your lips are on his--still leant back against the desk, much too flustered to touch him. And yet, your mouth is pressed against his deliciously, stomach fluttering and your heart doing back flips.

You only come to your senses when one of his hands moves to gently hold the side of your waist, the other reaching up with a featherlight touch to cup your warm cheek. You muffle a squeak against him, and he presses against you a little more in response. You can feel him fight back a smile at the noise and you can't help but fester in your own embarassment.

All too soon you pull away, whether it be from the lack of air or the overwhelming humiliation--you don't know, nor do you quite care.

You just kissed Iwaizumi Hajime.

And his dark brown eyes swirl with evident fondess as he watches you gently, expectantly.

You gasp quietly once everything registers in your mind, tongue twisting for a response once you remember what he had been asking moments before you gave into your close proximity.

"N-No..! No, I'd never..." You swallow your fluster, "I like... you."

Hajime's cheeks redden at the confession, and you envy his ability to keep his composure as he remains still, eyes waiting for you to keep going.

You have the sneaking suspicion he's trying to drag this out, but your too nervous to refute and instead keep rambling.

"I... Hajime, ah... transfering here was so hard, and Seijoh is so scary. E-Everyone already had their groups, and clubs were basically full--" His eyes dart to your lips again and you panic, "--A-AND YOU WERE ONE OF THE REASONS I FELT SAFE!"

The weight of your words brings him back to the present, and his brows furrow slightly as he takes in their meaning.

You keep going, "I've... I've been scared. Being the new kid is hard, so I didn't want to stand out more than I already did... And then when I started to like you I got scared, but I didn't want you to freak out and so I pretended to... be like everyone else..."

At his silence, you shrink into yourself. Hajime notices your discomfort and pulls you a little closer in reassurance. He thinks for a moment.

"It's not so bad," He quirks up a brow at your worried look, "standing out, every now and then. It's okay not to go with everyone else."

You avert your eyes sheepishly, "I see that it's stupid now but..." You cringe, closing off as you straighten up, "god, it's embarassing..."

"No, no," Iwaizumi lets out a small, breathless laugh, heart thumping in his chest, "I'm listening." He leans down slightly, following to meet your eyes again.

You feel a warm, tickling sensation across your collarbone at his attention. You say his name, wincing when your voice cracks and flushing when he just smiles at you patiently.

"Hajime," You start again, slowly, "you... make me feel like I'm dreaming. I... felt like I would trip, and freak, and fall--I was scared. So I just... followed everyone else, I guess."

He observes you intently, noting the way your eyes struggle to meet his, but how your hands clench and unclench in restraint, longing to touch--to hold.

He takes in a breath, "Are you still scared?"

"I don't know... maybe?" You shrugs honestly, "but, I do like you... a-a lot.."

He grins at you, "Thank god. I don't know if I would've been able to handle you pretending to be one of shittykawa's crazy fans any longer." The atmosphere lightens at his statement, and you can't help but snort at the fact.

"Sorry," You smile at him sheepishly, "well, at least now you know."

Iwaizumi hums, "Don't go looking at him anymore, yeah? Watch me instead." His patient smile curls into a smirk as you reel back with a squeak.

"I never did anyway—my eyes were always on you." You giggle as his cool composure cracks, the male looking away bashfully, "but, I am glad it's you."

He smiles, leaning his forehead against yours lovingly.

"Me too."

[mageofseven]

Repressed Love: A DiaLuci Love Story

Chapter 16

Tag list: @astroseuss @zarakem @brielle043 @missloserqueen

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

The parents headed to HoL to pick up their daughter. Lucifer was anxiously twisting the engagement on his finger along the way; the blue stone carried more meaning now after their conversation at home.

Lucifer has never worn this ring around his brothers till now. Usually, the man had it on a chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt when the men would visit.

However, since he and Diavolo are officially engaged now...it just felt dishonest to hide it.

How his brothers would react to this development--how Satan would react--was something he was very unsure of.

"My Light?" Dia raised his eyebrow at the other man.

That's when Lucifer had noticed he had froze outside the door to his and his brothers home.

"He won't take it well..." The demon continued to twist the ring on his finger.

The prince leaned in and kissed his forehead.

"We don't know that." He assured. "After all, your son has been surprising you a lot lately."

That was true...still, the dad had a really bad feeling about this.

Would this be too much for Satan? Would this be too much and cause his son to give up on their relationship? Lucifer has wanted to bond with his son for so long and he finally has the chance.

He didn't regret his relationship with Diavolo; he didn't regret agreeing to marry him.

However...he was afraid of the future. Of all the terrible things that could happen and losing his son is one of them.

"With you two at odds lately, I can't imagine him handling this well..."

The prince frowned and took his love's hand.

"You do know that I am sorry for the other day, right?" He spoke softly, squeezing Luce's hand. "It was immature of me to pressure him like I did."

Luce shook his head.

"It's not just you. My son...he's been so cold to you since our daughter was born. I don't understand why or how to help him through it."

"Love, all you can do is make sure he knows the line of communication is open with you and give him time."

Dia raised Luce's hand to his lips and kissed it, right over the ring.

"Regardless, we'll never have an answer if we don't step inside."

Lips pursed, the other man nodded before looking to the door in front of him.

Luce took a deep breath before opening the door and leading his fiancé inside.

A few of the men were in the living room. Satan had a book in his hands, Beel was finishing his sandwich with Belphie sleeping on his twin's lap, and Asmo was knelt next to Audriana on the floor and coloring with her.

That when the men noticed their daughter and Lucifer felt like the air just got punch from his lungs.

The redheaded girl looked up from her paper as her parents enter the room. Her golden eyes practically lit up as she jumped to her feet and ran to them.

"Daddy! Papa!" She cheered, hugging both of their legs.

The little girl was older than when they dropped her off the previous night. Yesterday, she was more or less at the state of a two year old. The girl before them now seemed closer to four.

Audriana's hair was longer and thicker, contained in two cute pigtails (likely Asmo's doing) and was even a bit taller.

Lucifer was having trouble breathing. He left for one night and it amounted to two years of growth for his daughter?

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Audri tugged on Lucifer's pants impatiently, snapping him out of his internal panic.

"Yes, princess?"

"Down! Closer!" She urged him, still tugging on his clothes.

Lucifer knelt down to his daughter's level and she moved closer to his ear, speaking in a loud, breathy attempt at a whisper.

"Fei-Fei's sleeping!" She told him, pointing to her uncle Belphie on the couch.

Diavolo laughed. Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth and his daughter's 'Fei-Fei', asleep? It was the secret of the century!

Luce found it within him to smile at his daughter.

"Yes, I can see that, princess."

He reached out and fixed her messy pigtails.

"When did you get that?"

Lucifer looked up and saw his son eyeing the ring on his finger.

"Good eye, Satan!" Diavolo smiled at the blonde. "We have some good news to--"

"Diavolo!" Lucifer scolded his fiancé as he jumped back to his feet.

"Oh. My. Devil!" Asmo rushed over to the two men excitedly. "It's an engagement ring! You're getting married, aren't you????"

"Exactly." The prince smiled the biggest he ever has. "Lucifer and I--"

"You're marrying him?!?!"

All eyes went on the blonde, who had dropped his book and was now staring at his father with a mixture of pain and anger that could only make others think of betrayal.

Before anyone could respond, the wrath demon ran out of the room and upstairs.

Audriana, startled by the screaming, started heavily sobbing from the noise and pressing on her ears, occasionally smacking her own head, as if she thought whatever pain the yelling caused in her body could be hit out of her.

Diavolo quickly scooped her up and locked her hands in his so she couldn't hit herself anymore and the girl shrieked and fought to break free.

Everyone crowded around the small child in order to comfort her. Even Belphie was awake and trying to figure out the hell was going on.

Lucifer was panicking internally, though most of his emotions didn't make it to his face.

Along with his brothers and fiancé, the dad stood by his daughter and tried to sooth her

But something in him was begging him to turn around and go after his son. His daughter was in great distress, but his instincts were telling him that he needed to be at his son's side.

Seeing his little girl struggle, but have four other family members giving her their undivided attention...while his son was upstairs alone. He was always alone.

With a heavy heart, Lucifer kissed his daughter's head and rushed out of the room, earning him a confused look from his fiancé.

Lucifer quickly ran to his son's room. At first, he tried to control his panic just enough to knock in hope of not upsetting his son further but then he heard it: a loud, drawn out groan of pain.

Luce threw open the door and found his son on the floor, gripping his head and being forced between his two forms. The blonde screamed in agony and at some points, the man's body became blurry.

Lucifer didn't understand anything he was seeing, but knew his son was in great pain. He dove onto the floor next to him and pulled his son into his arm.

The blonde cried and screamed, but eventually whatever the hell his body was doing subsided. His body was no longer blurry and settled on his demon form.

After a minute of heavy panting, the younger demon looked up at his father with tear-filled eyes.

The last time Lucifer saw such a sight was the day his son was born. The pride demon had woken up in a pool of his own blood with a gash in his side that was healing itself.

He turned and saw this tiny, helpless babe next to him, wrapped in a black boa scarf. In pain and confused, he instinctually brought the newborn into his arms and held him close. That's when the blonde babe opened his eyes and the new father stared into his son's tearful green orbs.

For a couple moments, the man couldn't tell when he was; was he hold the new born babe or the frightened and pained young man? His mind was all confused till Satan broke eye contact with his dad and laid his forehead to the pride demon's chest, trying to calm himself.

Lucifer rested his head on the blonde's and held him tighter.

"You're alright now." He whispered to his son. "I'm here. I'm here."

Satan gripped his dad's shirt and continued to cry into his chest quietly.

After a few minutes, he pulled away from the older man and wiped his remaining tears on his sleeve. He rose up from floor and sat on his bed, refusing to look at his father.

Lucifer slowly rose from the floor and watched his son carefully before joining him on the bed.

The older man had so many questions, but didn't know how to ask any of them.

"I'm fine." Satan suddenly spoke, voice shaky.

"Satan..." The man stared at his son with all of his worry and confusion in his dark orbs. "I don't know what that was, but 'fine' is not one of them."

He tried to meet his son's gaze, but the blonde kept turning away.

"What even was that?" Luce asked. "Has it happened before?"

Satan pursed his lips in an all too familiar way. Expressions like this showed well how he's truly his father's son.

"It's...it's been happening for the last couple months. Maybe three."

Lucifer could only stare in helpless shock at the blonde. He was living here when the attacks started and he never knew...he never helped his son.

The guilt choked the father. He wasn't there for him. He was never there for his son like he should have been.

"I should have been there for you..."

The blonde gave a bitter laugh.

"When have you ever?"

The pride demon's heart cracked. The truth was worse when it came from his son's lips.

"I'm sorry...I want to be there for you here on out though." He told him. "Will you let me help you?"

Satan closed his eyes before letting out a sigh. He layed his head against the other man's shoulder.

"I feel myself coming undone." He said in a low voice. "I don't know how to explain it any better and no book I get my hands on has been able to tell me what's going on with my body. Even diagnostic spells come up blank."

"I'll send for a doctor then."

No response.

A second later, he noticed that his son was fast asleep against him. Whatever happened took a lot out of the young man.

Lucifer watched his son sleep against him, just for a minute, before carefully lowering the young man down to the bed.

He pulled the covers over the blonde before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

The father wasn't going to let his son suffer alone again. Never again.

[missspringthyme]

January 12th, 2024

Travel day! My dad said goodbye to me before work and gave me a really long hug. My sister helped me carry my things to T's car (and then she got locked out lol, I told her where the spare key was but then she used it in the wrong lock and ended up having to call my dad).

T drove me to the smaller airport in my town, which is the airport my dad encourages me to fly in and out of if I can. I don't like to because this often means that I have to take a useless, 20-minute flight to get to the bigger airport in my state before taking my actual flight, which is exactly what happened today, but whatever. The US needs more trains.

T dropped me off, but I forgot to give him his forward kiss I always do when I say goodbye (before we started dating this time (we dated in high school and then reconnected as adults) we went hammocking and ended up talking until very early in the morning. I was exhausted, so he offered to let me spend the night (just friends right!) so I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel. When I got up to leave he looked so peaceful and it had been such a good night that I was overcome by the urge to kiss him on the forehead. I quickly stopped myself though, because that was an incredibly weird thing to do to your high school ex. So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided that the appropriate compromise was to kiss the tips of my fingers and press them to his forehead. He's insisted I do it when I say goodbye to him now ever since). I'll have to find a way to make up for it eventually.

My bag was 2 pounds overweight so I had to stuff some jeans in my backpack. There is nothing more humiliating than being crouched on the floor of an airport with an unzipped suitcase. All was well in the end, and I got to my gate with plenty of time to spare for my useless flight.

I've been listening to a podcast where this guy reads Percy Jackson for the first time, as my (not ever really) dormant obsession with Percy Jackson has been reinvigorated by the still-releasing TV show.

At the big airport, I grabbed lunch during my 45-minute layover (bagel sandwich and sparkling water) which I managed to finish eating seconds before my group began to board.

The flight was awful, awful, awful. Behind me were 3 unsupervised, unoccupied, very young children. Which, let me preface by saying that I am not one of those people that thinks that children should not be allowed on airplanes (???) and in general I do not operate under the belief that children should be expected to not behave like children to exist in public spaces. HOWEVER, at least one adult should be present on a 12 hour flight.

Additionally, next to me was sat a massive man who had no qualms about placing his legs far past the imaginary boundaries of our seats. He seemed to be in his early to late 30s, and I know with the way I was dressed I look younger than I am. This made it all the more concerning when he began blatantly hitting on me and asking me increasingly specific questions about where I lived. He asked me if Germany was my final destination, which I took as my chance to pretend I didn't speak much English and then let him get off the plane well ahead of me. Absolute nightmare.

I also could not get comfortable so I slept very poorly if at all. When I was a kid, we flew all the time (I'm pretty sure my first international flight was before I was 6 months old), and I loved it. Airports are still a bit of a happy place for me, but I've developed a bit of a fear of flying. Every time I step on a plane my thoughts are filled with death and the cold acceptance of my fate, although I've found not sitting in the window seat helps.

I sat in the window seat on this flight.

[petersthimble]

Sandman was so good man, I literally love Neil Gaiman: I gotta read his books fr fr

[darkmitsuya]

SCORCHING

pairing: getou/fem! reader

tags: ns//fw, smut, pwp, established relationship, titf*cking

summary: getou is a simple man. he sees your tits, he loses all rational thought. 

getou suguru thinks himself a simple man. he doesn’t pretend to be into the abstract, into wild and unpredictable things. unlike his best friend, getou is satisfied by the simple things in life. namely, your breasts on display on this hot summer’s day.

you’ve opted for a camisole in the scorching weather, idly sipping a glass of iced tea while you browse through your phone. you’ve always been well endowed; but now, all getou can think about is yanking your top down and fucking your tits until he splashed his cum on your throat. your camisole was tight, too, nipples peeking from the top, as it squished your boobs under the fabric.

he rises from his seat on the chair opposite you, settling next to you. his tongue licks the shell of your ear, hands already wandering up your camisole, gripping on to the flesh of your abdomen. 

“suguru,” you whine.

“baby,” there’s a smirk in his voice, his mouth pressed to your heated, sweaty skin, muffling his voice, “be a good girl and let me fuck your tits.”

you smile indulgently, carding a hand through his hair.

“been thinking about me, huh?” you tease.

“hard not to,” he bites your skin gently, “not when you’re sitting there with your tits out for me. and fuck, your nipples are just peeking out, baby. got me all hard. i want to fucking bury my face in your tits.” 

you throw your camisole off your body, your breasts springing free. they rest against you in all their glory, glistening from the sweat. getou wastes no time, burying his face in between the valley of your breasts, your tits pressing against his temples on either side. he groans in pleasure, feeling his cock twitch in his shorts, begging for relief. 

your hand grips his forearm, urging him to strip and fuck your tits. 

wasting no time, he kicks off his shorts and underwear, spitting on his hand and lubing up his cock. there was enough perspiration on both of your bodies that he knew there wouldn’t be any friction. you press your breasts together, forming two plush pillows that sandwich getou’s cock. 

your soft, warm skin feels like heaven. he pistons his cock in between your breasts; groans spill out between his lips amongst reverent whispers of your name. when you catch his cock pressing against your throat, you angle your lips and tongue down to lick and suck on the flushed head. getou head is thrown back, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“cum for me,” you plead, “suguru, i want your cum on my face.”

“gonna paint your pretty face, angel,” he promises, “get ready. you’re gonna-- ah, fuck!-- look so pretty covered in my cum.” 

a crescendo of your name in broken moans leaves getou’s lips, as his cum spurts all over your chest and face. his hips slowly come to a stop, as he slips his cock out from between your breasts. you let your breasts sag against you, tired from pushing them upright while getou fucked them. 

he kisses you sweetly, cleaning you up with a wet cloth, kissing your forehead in appreciation every so often. 

“i heard cum is good for the skin,” you giggle.

“what am i going to do with you?” he gives an exasperated sigh, “but, there’s plenty where that came from, angel. so long as you continue to sit with your tits out like that, fuck.” 

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis And Stu Macher x Reader- Our Favorite Girl (Slight gore warning)

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...(Trigger warning, stabby stab)

“Hey newbie!” 

You looked up from your textbook to find Stu Macher prancing up to you. With a polite smile, you greeted him.

“Hi Stuart.” you said. “How are you?”

“Hey! I said you didn’t have to be so ‘oooh hi Stuart I’m so prim and proper.’ “ he laughed out loud. “We’re friends aren’t we?” 

“I guess so.” you laughed nervously. “ Um...what’s up?”

“I’m havin’ a party and you’re coming!”

“Parties?” You frowned. “I-uh...” you wanted to reject the idea. You hated parties and your parents would probably blow a fuse if they knew what was going on around town. ‘Stuart, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, kitten?” he winked. “Afraid to be seen with little ol’ me?” there was a darkness behind his words that you couldn’t ignore. “Don’t like being out after dark?”

“I’m not the partying type is all.” you shrugged. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the most popular person around here.” you stared down at your shoes. “I just don’t wanna ruin your party. I’m the last person you wanna be seen with.”

“It’d make me real happy, kitten.” he stepped forward and slipped his fingertips under your chin and made you look up. “Please? Just for a few minutes.”

Call it weakness, but you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay.” you smiled lightly. “I’ll go”

“Great! Don’t worry, it’ll be super memorable.” he winked as he skipped off. 

Later on, you were walking to your locker only to bump into Adam. Typical bully. “Hey Y/N. Heard you were going to Macher’s party tonight...you gonna wear a dress for me?”

“No.” you answered curtly. “It’s amazing how you don’t seem to have anything better to do other than shove your nose into my business.” you hugged your books to your chest. “Can I go now?.”

“Hey...is there a problem?” you turned around to find Billy Loomis stalking up to you. You had seem him a handful of times but never actually talked to him before. “You...where do I know you from?”

“I sit behind you in English. We had a project together once.” you replied sheepishly. “Stuart forces me to sit between him and his girlfriend at lunch when they’re fighting. You talk to me from time to time...”

“Stuart...” he raised an eyebrow. “You mean Stu?”

“mhm! You probably don’t remember me because I never reply...” you nodded. 

“You goin’ to his party or somethin’?”

“He asked me to go.” you trailed off. “You’re going too, right?”

“ Why? Excited to meet me there?”“ he smirked, totally ignoring Adam at this point. 

“I mean...” you stared down at your books. “I was hoping someone I’d know would be there.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at you. You gave off a shy aura and for some reason he was into that. He and Stu had been planning a massacre, and they were gonna blame that damned Sydney Prescott. It was the perfect crime. 

“Hm...I’ll see you there.” he winked at you, then sent a death-bringing glare at Adam. “Problem, handsome?” he sneered as he passed the athlete.

... at the party

“Not even three hours in and I have to hide...” you cursed yourself out. “Damn asshole...!” 

Adam was informed that you had arrived and was looking for you, shit!

You ran into the kitchen, losing your breath. “Billy?” 

The suspect in question whipped around. Billy was holding what you assumed was the house phone and instantly hung it up. “Hey...”

“Am I glad to see you.” you sighed.

“Somethin wrong?” 

Billy was in the middle of executing his plan, but for some reason he couldn’t help but want to talk to you. 

“Adam is looking for me.” you sighed. “Could I...stay here with you? Please?”

Billy smiled, darting out his tongue to run across his bottom lip. You were absolutely adorable. “I have a better idea.” he smirked, walking up to you. “Why don’t we send him a little message?”

“You have a girlfriend.” you put a hand on Billy’s chest. “I c-can’t.”

“Not anymore...she dumped me for Randy.” he tusked. ”Figures right?”

“Well...that’s her fault...you’re pretty cool.” you bit your lip.

“So...” Billy tilted your head up towards you. “Let me-”...he gently kissed your lips. While it felt wrong, you melted into him. He held the side of your face in his hand. Sidney wasn’t your friend, not by a longshot, but you still respected her. The fact that Billy was so willing to kiss you, like this.

“For once...stop worrying about other people.” he mumbled against your lips. “Just live in the moment...shit I know what I want...you know what you want...so act on it damnit.”

“Are we still talking about getting Adam off me back or-”

“Shush...don’t think.”

“Kinda hard to when your girlfriend is in the other room”

“Shut up.” he shushed you, tightening his arms around you. You kissed him back with just as much urgency. How would the others react, seeing this...seeing you. Billy backed you up against the counter. Before it could get any farther, you both heard screaming, girlish screaming. 

“What the hell was that?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“Stay here.” Billy ran in the direction of the noise, leaving you to stand there in terror.

You could hear screams and cries for help, followed by what sounded like gleeful laughter. You were left frozen in place as a man with a mask on his face kicked open the kitchen door. 

You immediately braced yourself with a kitchen knife.

“Stay back!” you warned. “I will cut you!”

“Easy kitten, I’m not gonna kill ya.”

Call it ignorance. Call it instinct, but there was something familiar about the way this stranger spoke to you.

“What did you just say?” you dared ask this man. “Did you just call me kitten?”

“You’re naive, childish...and adorable...like a little kitty cat.” the way he laughed under the mask led you to believe he was laughing with his tongue stuck out.

There was only one person that you knew who spoke like that. You slowly lowered the knife and walked up to him cautiously. The figure didn’t move in the slightest. You were standing toe to toe with him. 

You cautiously raised the mask only revealing the bottom half of the strangers face...only they weren’t a stranger.

“Stu.” you concluded.

“....You said my name.” he flirted.

“Care to explain?”

“In a bit...got something to take care of.” he straightened his mask again before disappearing again.

It was only less than a minute before Stu came quite literally crawling back into the kitchen.

Stu doubled over, holding his stomach as you rushed over to his side. “Stu?” you put a hand on his forehead. “Stu, please don’t be dead!” you winced. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” That damn Sidney...she must have had something to do with this.

“Y/N...it hurts.” Stu moaned in pain. “Hold me?” 

You wasted no time in gathering him to the best of your abilities. He rested his head in your knee. You hummed thoughtfully, shushing him while you used his sweater to apply pressure to his stab wound.

“Y/N, are you sure you aren’t an angel?” He shamelessly flirted, smiling through his pain.

“No, I’m not.” you giggled. ”Save your energy.”

“I’d have more if you just gave me those lips of yours...” he winked. Just to shut him up, you kissed his forehead. 

“Not what I meant, but works for me.”

 As you chided the poor boy, Sydney ran into the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs while Billy also wounded stumbled behind. 

“Billy??” you gasped in horror. Seeing you must have caused him to loose his footing, because he slowed his movements. You laid Stu on his back and urged him keep his sweater over his wound. 

You scrambled to your feet, eyeing Sidney with a glare no one had ever seen you wear.

“Y/N! You’ve got to believe me! They’ve been the ones doing this.”

“I find that really hard to believe that when you were just standing over Stu with a bloody knife.” you seethed. “Your own boyfriend? Really?” you dared step closer.

“Y/N! They’re manipulating you!” she began crying. “You have to see it!” She was obviously hysterical.

“Then give me the knife.” you faked calm, cautiously stepping towards her. “Give me the knife...and we can-” you stopped yourself. You looked over at Billy, praying he wouldn’t be mad. “We’ll call the cops.” you you held your hand out.

“WHAT?” Billy seethed. You avoided his gaze. Hopefully he wouldn’t sense your fear. 

“Trust me...” you said, just barely above a whisper. You were mostly talking to Billy, but had to make it look like it was directed at her. “We can get out of this...”

Sidney (very stupidly) outstretched her hand, the one that was holding the knife. Once it was within your reach, you grabbed her wrist, and grabbed the blade with your free hand, throwing it to the side. You tackled to to the floor and held her down.

“Crazy bitch.” you mumbled. She began thrashing, and screaming bloody murder. You were eventually able to get the best of her. “Whoever is the least dead...COPS...NOW!” You struggled as Sidney screamed. “This bitch is out of her mind!.”

“I have a better idea.” A seemingly fine, and now very much not dead Stu rose to his feet, a sick smile plastered on his face. The knife had slid over to him and you hadn’t even realized. You were too focused on keeping Sidney on the floor.

Suddenly you were yanked back into Billy’s arms as a sharp object came down from above, plunging through Sidney’s chest. 

“Oh my god!” you buried your head into Billy’s shirt, trying to block out the terrible sounds you heard the terrible sounds of skin ripping. 

“Shhh it’s over babe.” He shushed you. “It’s okay.” he stroked your hair with his bloody hand. Stu laughed manically as he wiped the sweat off his face. 

“Some party huh.” Stu cackled. He wasted no time in sandwiching you between himself and Billy.

“You had us thinking you’d betray us, Kitten.” Stu dug his head into your shoulder.

“Y/N would never do that to us...she’s our good girl.”

“You guys are-”

“Absolutely.”

“And this party was-”

“Smart girl.”

“And now that you know our little secret, we’re never letting you go, kitten!” Stu laughed. 

“And if you tell anyone, we’ll have no choice but to take you down with us...but you won’t do that to us, will you?” Billy asked, nuzzling his head into your neck.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 1)

summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2875

warnings: smut... sort of (oral f receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism (kinda?), touch of angst, lots of pining and awkwardness, jealous bucky being jealous, alcohol use (reader gets drunk)

Nothing annoyed you like being surrounded by stylists and being primped and prodded for hours at a time.  It made you feel claustrophobic to be touched so much: makeup artists only inches from your face, tailors watching you change, hairstylists nearly spraying you in the eye or burning you on the forehead every few minutes.

Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to actually be in the whole get-up once they were done.

But, such was the nature of a red carpet event.  This one was going to be particularly bland because it wasn't even a premiere or awards event but a launch party for a perfume campaign.  How lame is that?  It's one of those things that really only exists so that there can be pictures of it to put in a magazine, because they're always running out of good pictures of celebrities to publish.

Finally all dolled up to the point that you didn't look even very much like yourself anymore, your assistant accompanied you downstairs and into your driveway where your car was waiting; and, more importantly, its driver and your driver, Bucky.

He was a gruff sort of guy; certainly a man of few words and many brooding glares.  Sometimes you thought he didn't like you— like maybe he resented your fame or something— but then he'd turn around and be so sweet all of a sudden and you didn't know what to think.  For one, he demanded to open the door for you every time you got out of the car.  Sometimes he even extended his hand for you to grab on to, which was especially useful for red carpet events when you were usually wearing skinny heels that were impossible to balance on.

Such was the case tonight as well, and you smiled up at him as he helped you out of the car and up towards the steps of the venue.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, and he barely smiled back.

"Have a good night, madam," he suggested, a formal stuffiness to the way he addressed you.

You nodded,  "You too!"  That made you pause, though, because you weren't sure what his night would entail at all.  "Say, what is it that you do when I'm at an event like this?"

He seemed confused by your question.  "Um, I sit in the car and wait until you're ready to leave."

Guilt seared in your chest and you frowned.  "That's it?  You don't, like, go out?  Catch a movie?"

"Nope.  That would prevent me from doing my other job, which is watching the points of entry to make sure there aren't any threats to security going in."

"Right…" you trailed off.  "You could always come in, you know, grab some free drinks and stuff."

"I thought you didn't want any of your team following you around at events."

"Yeah, don't follow me around, just mingle and kill some time!"

Bucky shook his head.  "If I'm not there as your driver or as your security, then I'm not there."

You shrugged.  "Suit yourself, but please feel free to, like, get some food or whatever you wanna do while I'm in there!  Don't just wait on me!"

He smiled, but it looked a little rehearsed. "Thank you, madam."

You realized he'd been holding your hand through the entire conversation, cause you'd asked him your question midway through getting out of the car.  Awkwardly, you finally dropped his hand and waved goodbye, escorting yourself up the last few steps and into the door.

God, he must think I'm such a freak.

//

God, she must think I'm such a freak.

Bucky munched on the sandwich he'd had delivered (yes, to the car, how else was he supposed to get it?) as he dutifully watched the entrance.  Against your advice, he had every intention of just sitting around and waiting for you, but he wasn't bored; he had a Mets game on the radio to keep him company.

"— top of the third, bases loaded, DeGrom is at the plate with one swing left aaaaaand… he strikes out!"

"Shit," Bucky grumbled to himself around a mouthful of pastrami.

Glancing up, he saw someone stumbling out of the party: squinting, he realized it was you.  He looked at the clock with a furrowed brow, noticing it was a little earlier than he'd thought you'd leave, but then he saw that there was someone with you… a guy.

Bucky set his sandwich down and turned the key in the ignition as he watched you pull your phone out of your clutch— ostensibly to text him to bring the car around, but he was already ahead of you, quickly exiting the parking lot and circling the building so he could pull up at the steps.  He was about to get out to open the door for you but this random guy did it instead, before tumbling in after you.

"That tickles!" you protested with a giggle as your new friend started to kiss your neck, his hands all over you before Bucky had even gotten the car moving.

You were too drunk and distracted to notice that the partition was still open.  Of course Bucky had considered closing it, in fact he wanted more than anything to close it so he wouldn't have to see this, but some sick part of his brain needed to see it.  How else could he know if something went wrong and he had to get back there and stop it?  How else would he keep you safe?

How else would he get to find out how you sound when you're being touched like this?

He couldn't see too well with it being the middle of the night and all, but every time he drove past a streetlamp or particularly bright neon sign, the colorful glow would shine in and cast light over your neck where your head had fallen back in pleasure; or your collarbones, exposed where your dress had been pulled down; or your chest, rising quickly with the speed of your panting breaths.

Ogling you in the rearview mirror made him feel like a total creep, but it satisfied a bit of the urge he'd been feeling ever since he started driving you.  He wasn't actually a driver, at least not usually; he was more or less your bodyguard at this point, but you were really adamant about having a small detail and so that was why he was working double-duty tonight… and why he'd been doing so for almost three months now.

"Baby," you gasped, and his eyes shot right back to your reflection; you were writhing against the seat, and he could just barely see the top of the guy's head where it was buried between your legs.  You took your bottom lip between your teeth, lips curling into a relaxed smile.  His cock was not only hard but throbbing at this point, as if that was going to do him any good.  He barely ever got to look at you, and he knew he would never, ever be able to touch you— beyond holding your hand as you stepped out of the car, at least.  Whenever he did that, he imagined for a moment that he wasn't your driver at all but your date, that he would get to keep your hand as he guided you down the red carpet with him.  Not that he wanted any of the attention that you got, of course, but at the same time he did like the idea of all those photographers snapping pictures of his arm around your waist, or you looking up at him with your hand on his chest.  They'd all run stories wondering what a beautiful, successful, massively talented woman like you was doing with a guy like him, but he wouldn't find the energy to care about crap like that if he had you all to himself.  

Another whimper from you pulled him out of his daydream, reminding him to focus on the road as best he could.  He knew you would hate him if you knew that he'd thought about you like that.  Or if you knew about all those times he'd checked in on you while you slept at night and lingered a bit too long.  Or if you knew that he had rewatched that one sex scene you'd done in your last movie about a thousand times.  It always broke his heart to see you underneath some other guy (his name was either Dermot Mulroney or Dylan McDermott or possibly Dermot McDermott?) and yet it turned him on like nothing else to watch you immersed in pleasure.  Similarly, now, he couldn't stand knowing it was someone else making you moan the way he was hearing, but it was the best he was ever gonna get.

"Oh god," you sighed, "fuck, yes, yes, oh my god yes—"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and it must have been the noise of the leather stretching that made you notice him; as if every dream and nightmare of his was coming true at once, your gaze met his in the reflection of the rearview.

He was so screwed, and he was totally going to get fired tomorrow, but he couldn't look away.  Your eyes were like dark magic the way they pulled him in, kept him locked on you as his face started to burn so hot it could cook an egg.  

Staring you down, he saw your mouth fall slack as your hands reached down to grab your date's hair and tighten into fists.  Shivers shot down his spine as he imagined the way it would feel if you pulled his hair like that.  

The longer you kept looking at him, the more a very dangerous thought danced in the back of his mind…

What if she wants me to watch?

Which, even more concerningly, started to slowly morph into another idea…

What if she wants me?

He was sure you were coming.  It wasn't obvious; you didn't say anything, didn't moan too loud, didn't scream or sob or call out any names (which made it easier to pretend it was for him) but he could tell.  Your swollen lips were parted silently as he watched your breath catch in your chest, and your hands clenched around fistfuls of hair.  What he would give for you to pull his hair like that, and come for him like that— except he wouldn't have stopped there, unlike your current companion who was already moving back up your body to kiss you hungrily.  

He'd always thought you had really pretty hands, and they looked pretty good sliding over the back of this guy's suit jacket, but he liked them best when they gently pushed him off.  "We're almost there," you mumbled as Bucky turned the car into the driveway, using his fob to open the gate.  

Once he'd come to a stop outside your door and turned off the engine, the three of you exited and stood up as you yawned and stretched.

"You'll take Jack here home, right?" you asked Bucky quickly.

"It's Jake…" the man corrected with hesitance.

"Right, Jake," you smiled, "you'll take him to his place, right?"

Bucky gave the guy a smile dripping with gloating contempt, loving the disappointed look he was wearing as he realized he wasn't going to be spending the night in your bed.  "It'd be my pleasure," he announced coldly.

"Great, thanks," you sighed.  Standing on your tiptoes to give the guy a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder, you thanked him for a great night and made your way into the house.

Jake looked around in confusion for a moment before getting back in the car along with Bucky, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

"What address am I going to?"

"Uh, 333 15th Street, in Brooklyn," the guy replied, pausing to let out a soft but incredulous laugh as the car began to move.  "Level with me, man: does she… do this kind of thing, a lot?  You know: bring guys over, make it seem like something's gonna… happen, but then just send ‘em back home and never call again?"

With a silent glare, Bucky rolled up the partition.

//

You heard the front door, even from your current location of the shower upstairs, and knew Bucky was home— okay, not exactly ‘home’ since he didn't leave here full-time, but home in the sense that he was in your home and in the place he would be staying tonight.  You just hoped he'd actually stopped the car before kicking Jake out; he never cared much for when you had guys over or really just interacted with guys at all, because of the "security risks" or whatever.

Next, you heard him coming up the stairs and passing by your door.  "Hey, Bucky, you out there?" you called to him.

"Yeah, what is it?" he answered through the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just—" you stopped when you heard the crinkling of paper.  "What is that?  Do you have food?"

"Um, yeah," he answered.

Your stomach growled; the event had only had tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the alcohol in your system enhanced your desire for a midnight snack.  "What kinda food?"

"It's a sandwich— well, what's left of one: I was eating it while I waited for you."

"Are you gonna finish it?" you asked curiously.

"No, I was thinking I'd put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You paused a bit before asking, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah, sure, you can get it in the morning—" he began.

"No, now!" you clarified.

There was a pause before he responded.  "Right now?  In the shower?"

"Yeah, just bring it in here!"

"I-I'll let you finish showering first—" he stammered.

"No, Bucky," you whined, "just come in here!  I'm hungry!"

Another pause before he finally opened the door, his blurry figure visible through the steam-covered frosted glass. 

"What's on it?" you asked as you washed the last of your shampoo out of your hair.

"It's pastrami on rye with jalapeños, fresh mozzarella, pesto and some sort of spicy aioli or something."

"Ooh, come to mama," you purred as you reached over the top of the door with opening-and-closing grabby hands, squeeing with glee when he placed the wax paper package in your grasp.

"Okay, enjoy your drunken shower sandwich," he congratulated grimly, about to turn and leave.

"No, wait, where'd you get this?" you asked as you leaned out of the stream of hot water to unwrap your bounty.

"Uh, you know the deli on 8th and Columbus?"

"You went all the way out there?"

"No, I had it delivered."

You snorted with laughter.  "Couldn't leave me alone for even a minute, huh?"

"Well, I fully intended on leaving you alone for this shower."

But you didn't really notice that comment because you'd just taken a bite and couldn't stop yourself from moaning loudly around it.  "Oh my god, Bucky, this is so good!"

He cleared his throat.  "Uh, glad you like it."

"You have good taste in sandwiches!"

"I think the word for 'taste in sandwiches' is just 'taste,’” he pointed out, his smirk audible in his voice.

"Can we go to this place tomorrow and you can order for me?"

"We can do whatever you want tomorrow," he relented.

"If you drive, I'll pay,” you offered.

"I always drive.  And you always pay,” he pointed out.

You frowned, not visible to him through the steamy glass.  "I do?"

"You pay my salary, so, yeah…"

You laughed, a little too hard. "You're so smart!"

"Sure,” he replied quickly.

“Okay, I’m almost done in here,” you informed him.

“With the sandwich or the shower?” 

You laughed with a little snort, which would’ve embarrassed sober you.  “Both!”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he replied, starting to go back out the door.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky,” you waved even though he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know that I will,” he admitted, “you’ll probably be hungover and lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Hmm, possibly,” you agreed as you pondered that.  “Then I guess just ‘goodnight,’ and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Goodnight,” he replied and stepped out of the bathroom— you could hear him go downstairs and shut the door to his room, and you glanced down at the last bite of your/his sandwich with a smile.

You must have gotten in bed at some point, cause that was the last thing you could really remember before you woke up a bit before noon, bright orange sunlight shining directly on your face where it rested on the pillow.  You groaned and turned over, feeling like your brain was too big for your skull.  You sat up when you saw a menagerie of unfamiliar items on your nightstand.  A bottle of pedialyte, a bottle of Fiji water, a few aspirin, an orange and a banana waited for you in a pile, with a little piece of paper sitting in front which you read.

Hope you’re feeling alright, these might help in the meantime.  -B

You smiled, twisting open the Fiji and taking a sip.  Bucky always took such good care of you, even in ways he didn’t need to.  What would you do without him?

[liquorisce]

honey, we can run forever

pairing: eren x mikasa

rating: E; 18+

summary: Eren is not a simple man, he doesn’t want simple things, and he doesn’t love, simply. Because as much as he wants Mikasa to be happy, the thought of her forgetting him twists inside him painfully, a knife in his already diminishing soul.

or

cabin eren likes that mikasa grew her hair longer. (so he can pull on it when he's fucking her from behind)

ao3

“Honey, we can run forever, if forever's what's in store

Oh, time doesn’t love you like I love you,

So take me home.”

Mikky Ekko

Unbelievable, he thinks.

He feels it as he sees her walking with the others, sandwiched between Armin and Jean, as they tease her over something trivial. He sees it when she first discovers the confection they call ice cream.

She’s unbelievable. Her strength, her presence… her beauty.

There’s a melancholy to it, to the way he looks at her today. Because even though he’s never seen her so relaxed, so carefree, so guileless and lost in her surroundings (maybe just once before in the ocean, and she’d looked beautiful even then).

It tugs at him when she calls him, the same way she’s always called him, ever since they were children and innocent and clueless, the way she comes up to him with the most self-conscious smile, offering him what she just discovered.

He can’t tell her it isn’t new to him, that none of this is. He can’t tell her that when he tastes the ice cream she offers him now, he’s had it before, or at least he remembers it, because now he can remember his future, and that’s something he doesn’t even know how to explain.

So he takes it from her anyway, relishing in the treat that she relished in, partaking in a small piece of joy, something he can share with her.

He wonders when was the last time he saw her in civilian clothes. Especially like this - Mikasa had always been partial to long, flowing, skirts. That’s just who she was, and if this life hadn’t done this to her, that’s who she would have been, carefree and indulgent… and free.

And at that moment he’s never felt a stronger urge than to see her like that. To witness the beauty of Mikasa in a different life, maybe a different life with him.

…

He'd asked her to forget him. No, he'd begged. He heard his own voice, raspy and choked up at that moment, overcome with Mikasa's tears, and the cruel nature of their reality.

In that moment, standing outside their little cabin, nestled in the woods, far far away from any kind of reality, in the beautiful golden glow of the sunset that bathed her delicate face, all he'd wanted was her happiness. A long life filled with love and joy for the love of his life even if it was a life without him.

But Eren is not a simple man, he doesn’t want simple things, and he doesn’t love, simply. Because as much as he wants Mikasa to be happy, the thought of her forgetting him twists inside him painfully, a knife in his already diminishing soul.

It’s a stain in his mind, spreading, and it darkens him to the point where he can’t even look at her anymore without thinking of her smiling, beautiful, hair long and free in the wind, a child hugging her knees. A man who holds her waist with pride.

It makes him sick. It’s a vision he wants to reach out and grab and crush, make it so small until it ceases to exist. Vaguely he realizes just how far gone he is, but he doesn’t want her smiles to belong to anyone else.

He doesn’t even notice the effect his darkening mood has on her, until she asks him, tentatively. “... Did I do something to upset you, Eren?”

He’s stumped really, doesn’t know how to respond because he doesn't know how to say that she could never upset him, not as long as she’s with him. Pulling her onto his lap, he tries to dredge up a smile. “... You know me, I’ve always been moody.”

She rests her forehead against his, and he can feel her cool breath as she speaks, a small hitch in her throat as she says “... maybe I can improve your mood?”

It still makes him breathless when she speaks to him this way - coy, teasing... flirtatious? And when he thinks of the possibility that she might speak to another man this way, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, his grip on her waist tightening.

She litters kisses along his jaw, fingers deftly undoing the ties on the front of his shirt, grazing the faint bit of chest hair that peeks out. It takes very little for her to turn him on and she knows it, a pleasing hum at the back of her throat as she feels him get aroused under her.

It’s an intensely addictive feeling, her lips, her fingers, and the more Eren feels himself give into it, the more the irrational anger bubbles over, his mouth betraying his displeasure when he thinks of her speaking this way to someone else. Would she touch him like this, caressing his chest, pressing her enticing body against his the same way?

Would she grind her hips against another man’s erection?

Would she sigh so temptingly into another man’s lips?

He can’t help the growl that spills out of his lips, and he nips her lips angrily, greedily. She recoils for a minute, grey eyes startled, her palm covering her lips. “... Eren, what was that,” -

He lifts her easily, strong muscled thighs wrapping around his hips as he carries her to the bed, pressing his lips gently to hers in apology. As he lays her out in front of him, skirt hitched up to her waist, his green eyes are stormy as he struggles with his words. “... You,” you’re beautiful, he thinks, “You don’t even realize,” -

He chokes, unable to continue, unable to explain the dark cloud brewing in his mind. He pulls the scarf off and discards it on the floor, fingers moving to the buttons on her sweater.

“... You’re all I have left Mikasa,” he wonders if that is enough for her to understand, but judging from the way she looks at him, a mixture of confused and aroused, it isn’t. “You’re all I have,” he murmurs again, before divesting her of her skirt and pressing a kiss to her inner calf. “Sometimes I can’t bear it.”

“... I don’t,” -

She doesn’t need to say it, he knows she doesn’t understand. How could she? She wasn’t like him, she loved him without complication, for the longest time, with the most straightforward dedication. But Eren’s always loved her in hiding, the way he does now, running away from the whole world into an illusion, where it’s just her and him and nobody else... to the only place where he could have her completely, only his.

“My time’s running out, Mikasa,” he says with vehemence. No longer depressed, but just angry. Angry that there was a timer on their relationship, a deadline for the time he had with the girl he loved for so long, he can’t even remember a time where he hadn’t loved her.

“... I have you now,” he whispers possessively, cupping his hand around her heat, hooking a finger into her panties to pull it down. “... But not much longer.” He takes a minute to appreciate the sight in front of him, Mikasa naked from the waist down, and he confesses, “... It drives me insane.”

If she weren’t completely, irrevocably in love with him, she might have thought he looked as insane as he felt, green eyes wild, hair messy from where she’s run her fingers through it. She doesn’t like to dwell on it either, they’d promised each other that they wouldn’t bring it up, they wouldn’t talk about their friends, or the war, or the fact that the clock was ticking on their love. “... Only you, Eren, that’s all I want to focus on,” she’d told him, breathlessly, when they’d first spoken of running away, and that’s how she wanted it to stay.

Because she can’t imagine a life without him, without the boy who’d been there for her ever since she thought she had nothing else. “We said we wouldn’t think about it,” she whispers, doing her best not to let her own thoughts stray there, there would be time for that aplenty when the only way she could keep him with her would be with tear-filled memories.

“Not think about it?” The anger betrays him, seeping into his impassioned voice, “... How can I?” His words are harsh, biting, deliberate with the scraping of his teeth against her nipple. “It’s all I think of nowadays, Mikasa.” Her hands thread into his hair when he uncovers her shirt to suck on her breast. “... That someday someone else might touch you this way.”

She inhales sharply when he squeezes her breast to the point of pain. “... Never.”

“You say that now,” he says, with melancholy, but someday you’ll do this with another man, is something he doesn’t add, when he slips a finger through her panties, testing how wet she’s become.

“... God, I’m so selfish, Mikasa,” he pants, relishing the sounds she makes, the way her beautiful grey eyes clouded with lust. “... But I want those moans only for myself.”

“Eren, I’ve only ever wanted you, you know that,” -

“I know,” he murmurs, selfishly. He doesn’t let her catch her breath, slipping another finger inside, letting her adjust to the pace that he sets, “... all this,” he lets her taste how wet she is, smearing her juices on her lips before he kisses her, “It’s only for me, isn’t it?”

He can feel her grow impatient, hips moving up to meet his, to grind against him, desperate for some friction. “You’re not lying are you, my love?” And he knows she isn’t because Mikasa is so honest with her body, her mouth, her words, as she whispers, “... I’m all yours, Eren.”

It pleases him so much to hear it, even though he’s always known it, through his jealousy, his possessiveness, there’s never been much doubt about just how much Mikasa is his. She reaches for him, for the drawstrings of his pants that should have come undone a long time ago.

It’s unbelievable just how good she can make him feel with her mouth alone (with her words, her smiles, her moans), soft and warm and wet and so, so eager to please. She works him up till he’s slick and throbbing, lips smacking around the length of him until he threads his fingers into her hair and pulls on it, grey eyes unfocused and watery from how deep she had him mere moments ago. “... You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth,” he confesses, and he doesn’t even know where he gets the courage to say it, because Mikasa looks so pretty all the time anyway.

“... Eren,” she whispers urgently, and he can see the way she’s pressing her thighs together, can see the urgency she wants to convey. “... I need you.”

“I know you do, my love,” he whispers, caressing the side of her face, “... Be a good girl for me and get on your hands and knees for me.” She blushes prettily but moves to accommodate him exactly how he tells her to, on her knees and her hands, turning to look at him in anticipation.

He swats her ass playfully, and she wiggles. “Raise your ass for me, Mikasa, don’t hide.”

She’s so obedient, so beautiful, and the darker side of him relishes it immensely. He loves the way she listens to him, how eager she is to please him, and there’s an irrational, selfish thought, that surely this side of her, submissive and pliant Mikasa, will only be his.

He spreads her with his fingers and blows gently, and she lets out a long whine. He nips at her outer lips possessively, lapping at the juices that betray her arousal. “... So needy,” he whispers, and in a breathless whimper, she supplies, “... only for you, Eren.”

He groans as he slips his length inside of her, inside her ready heat, so deep inside of her, he’s almost certain she’s taken hold of his soul. “... Mine,” he whispers, almost subconsciously, kissing the soft skin over her spine, licking gently over her vertebra.

She bucks back against him, eager for him to move, but his fingers splay around her throat possessively. “... So desperate for me, huh, Mikasa?” His fingers tighten ever so slightly as he drives into her, and she can feel her flutter around his length as he gets rough with her. He thrusts again and again, his hold loosening, not wanting to hurt her.

But what Eren doesn’t realize is that Mikasa needs this as much as he does, that he could do anything to her and she wouldn’t break. That when he chokes her and drives into her, everything else ceases to exist, except him and his all-consuming presence. “Do anything, Eren,” she begs, a hoarse whisper from the back of her throat, “... just don’t be gentle.”

Because their love had never been gentle, it had always been violent, cruel, asking too much of them, burdening them with pleasure but only with the promise of pain. And now with the things that played on both their minds, she’d rather he drove it out of her mind with the sheer intensity that only he could give her.

“I wasn’t planning to be,” he murmurs, yanking on her ponytail, watching her back arch beautifully as he fills her completely before thrusting into her again. He has a stray thought about how pretty she looks with her hair grown out again, sleek and soft and so perfect for him to hold onto as he drives into her from behind.

The angle is so good, so deep, that she whimpers, “... I can’t… I’m so close, Eren,” and that’s when he knows he has to see her. He pulls out of her quickly - she whines at the loss of fullness - and demands, “... Lie on your back, my love. I want to see you feel good.”

It embarrasses her how easily he vocalizes what he wants, but Eren’s always been good at that, and Mikasa’s happy to make him feel happy. So she complies. He parts her legs, bending them onto his shoulders and slips into her so easily, she groans.

He bites down on the soft swell of her calves to suppress a groan because he’s slid so deep into her wetness, he feels like he could almost drown. He fucks her thoroughly, building a pace that he can no longer say he’s in control of, his hips bucking into her erratically. Her orgasm is building, and he can sense it in the way that she quivers, how she looks away from him, biting her lip, and he doesn’t like it.

Grasping her chin with his fingers, he turns it towards him, thumb forcing her mouth open. “Don’t do that,” he breathes, “... I want to hear you say my name.” He bends over and licks gently on her earlobe, lavishing the way she likes, the way he knows she’s weak for. “... I want to hear you scream it, Mikasa.”

And she does.

…

He watches her sleep, after. He tucks her in and watches her breathing deepen, her hair framing her face beautifully on her pillow.

She’s even more beautiful after he’s fucked her, lips swollen from the way he’s kissed them, skin bruising delicately under the pale moonlight. She bruised so easily under his fingers, from where he enclosed them around her throat, and for the briefest moment, he feels bad about it - about causing her any kind of pain.

But the larger part of him, the part that screams for nothing but his own gratification, wonders if they will stay long, long after he’s gone, reminding anyone who dares to look, whom she truly belongs to.

- fin -

a/n: here's some soap for you to clean yourselves after this!! if you want some more cabin eremika that's sorta like this, check out my other oneshot "one of these days, ill know" :)

(btw, I'm always looking for feedback to improve, so please lemme knoww~)

[crit20art]

fuck it. jmart kid fic preview

Somewhere Else, 2027

The walk between work and home is always longer going than it is coming. Maybe it’s the fatigue. Maybe it’s some subtle undulation of space. There are things like that here, shimmering at the edges of Jon’s perception, dewdrop-spangled webs catching stray slips of this reality’s sunlight. They aren’t Hilltop tears, just threadbare stretches, places where this world rubs up against the next. Made it a prime candidate for the invasion of Fear, Jon supposes.

The thought sends a shudder through the tension of his upper back, and his jaw clenches, and-- fuck, he’s bitten the goddamn cigarette in half. “Blast it,” he hisses, and spits unceremoniously into the street. He gets a look from a passerby, and has to swallow back the urge to return a much eviler eye. 

He lights up as soon as he gets home. Leans out the window on his aching elbows, closes his eyes, and lets the smoke roll through him. The nicotine glitters around the crown of his skull, stimulating neural pathways that don’t get much exercise outside of this ritual. What did he used to do to feel alive?

Live, probably. 

He’s just tipping a second cig into his palm when knocking begins to resound through his flat. He stands straight and frowns at the dead-bolted door. While he (understandably, he thinks) has some unpleasant associations with knocking, this is not the ominous sort that he might have once feared; it’s light and fast and won’t give it a rest. Monsters have more restraint than that, he thinks. Probably some kid harassing him.

Grumbling like the old man he’s quickly becoming, he grabs his cane and snaps, “Alright, alright,” as he approaches the door. The knocking falters. He opens the door.

His own eyes blink back at him.

Jon drops his cane. It clatters to his faux-wood floor. He’s swaying, then; he goes proper dizzy, and only snaps back to full lucidity when his shoulder crumples into the door frame. He leans there, mouth agape, and blinks stupidly as the child on his doorstep stoops to pick up his cane. She holds it out to him. He stares at her.

She’s tall for her age. (Nine, he knows without Knowing.) Her warm brown cheeks are still soft with baby fat, and freckles crowd her nose. Wild hair wreaths her head and shoulders, controlled only by glittery barrettes tucked into the curly black jungle.

“Uh hi,” she says, and then she smiles. It’s a smile he knows better than his own, captured somehow on this child’s lips. Jon’s knees waver.

“Holy fuck,” he says.

Her smile falls, and she scrunches her nose at him. The gesture is so familiar that Jon thinks he might pass out.

“Uh--” Jon tries to stand upright, but he just staggers and sinks back against the door jamb. “You-- How-- you’re--”

“Are you gonna fall down?” she asks.

“A-almost certainly,” says Jon. She stretches her arm and shakes it a bit, bringing his attention to the cane she’s still offering him. Finally, he makes himself take it. “You’re. I, uh. Um.”

“I’m Aamal,” she says. 

Ah. There it is. Jon’s knees give.

He slumps to the floor, startling the child’s brown eyes saucer-large. Before she can react further, Jon gasps, “How- h-how are you here?”

“I followed the black ribbons,” she says. 

Flashes of magnetic tape tangle across Jon’s memory, as clear to him today as they were nine years ago, when the noose of them cinched tight around everything he loved. 

“They… ah. Right.” Jon lifts a shaking hand to his face, as if touching something real will steady him, and stares at his guest. His--

His daughter.

“Yes, um,” he whispers, shaking, “H-hello… Aamal.” Her name feels small and sacred on his tongue, fragile as a dissolving wafer. How unworthy he is, to say it. “You’re, uh. Y-you’re- you’re here.” His hand skitters up through his hair, displacing combed-back licks of grey over his forehead. “H-how- how- how did you find me?”

And Aamal says, very matter-of-factly, “I saw you in my dream.”

Jon inhales so sharply that he almost chokes. “Your--?”

“My dream,” Aamal confirms, and bounces on her heels. “I have it every night. I thought it was a bad dream at first, because it was so scary? Like, the world was angry and hungry and I knew it wanted to eat me up while the sky watched. But then I realised that wasn’t gonna happen, because my daddies were there with me, and they’d keep me safe.”

Jon covers his mouth again. Teardrops slip over his fingers.

“You are my daddy, right?” Aamal asks, her cheeriness shrinking to something timid, little hands fluttering together nervously. “That’s how it felt in the dreams.”

“Uh- y-yes? I-- yeah. Yeah.” Fingertips still trembling against his lips, it occurs distantly to Jon that it’s probably time for him to pull himself together and try to offer some kind of comfort to the child who, regardless of whatever uncertainties surround her, has definitely hopped dimensions to be here. Gritting his teeth, he gets his cane under him and forces himself to slide back up the doorframe, then takes a few moments to catch his breath.

“Yes,” he says, finally, when he knows the words will come out steadily. “I, uh. I-I’m your father. My name is, uh, it’s Jon. Jonathan Sims. Um. You can- just- you can call me that.”

“Okay, That.” Aamal grins very widely and looks at him with expectant eyes.

“Oh,” says Jon, after an embarrassingly long pause. “Ha. Yes, uh. Call me ‘That,’ right. Um.” He takes a deep breath, and it punches back out of him in a nervous, awkward chuckle that would make most adults uncomfortable. Aamal just beams, and seems proud to have got a laugh out of him. “Well- no sense having this discussion in the hall, is there? Uh, do- do come in.” He stands aside and gestures at the dim, sparse interior of his flat. He does not blame Aamal for the hesitation that precedes her entering. Reflexively, Jon leans out into the hall and squints one way, then the other. Satisfied, at least, that no one is lying in wait, he shuts and bolts the door. 

He turns, and finds for the first time since he signed for this flat that he is not alone in it. His daughter stands in the middle of his thrifted rug, her hands buried in the pockets of her dungarees and her freckles pinched together by her scrunched nose.

She’s here. She’s right here.

“It stinks in here,” she says.

Jon laughs. It’s hoarse and stale, bitten back the moment he realises how wrong it sounds. He clears his throat. “Yes, ah. Smoking’s a nasty habit.” He glances at the pack of cigarettes abandoned on his windowsill, and feels an odd twinge of guilt in his longing for a puff to steady himself. He looks back at Aamal, who has begun to make a circle of the room, touching his shelves, poking at the clutter that always builds up despite his best efforts.

“Um,” says Jon. Aamal doesn’t look at him. She’s shuffling through his books, the little divot between her brows settling deeper as she considers each second-hand paperback. 

Jon clears his throat. “Do you, uh, like to read?”

Aamal turns her frown on him, mouth a squiggle of confusion. “Did you cut out all the eyes?”

Ah. 

“I, uh. Well- uh.” He picks at the ragged grip of his cane. “That’s-- it- it hardly matters right now,” he manages, exhaling raggedly. Aamal opens her mouth, but he seizes what momentum he’s collected and asks, “Are you here alone? Where’s- do you still know Georgie and Melanie?”

Aamal forgets the books instantly, her face lighting up at the names. “You know Mummy and Mellie?”

“Mum- and--? Oh! Oh, they.” His throat feels like it might close up. “They raised you, then.”

“Yeah, they’re my mums.” Aamal wanders past Jon and drops onto his couch, gasping a squeak when the cushion sinks lower than she was apparently expecting. She wriggles for a moment as if trying to get comfortable. “Do you have any snacks?”

Whiplash-stricken, Jon flounders for a few moments before saying, “Maybe?”

Aamal’s brow drops like she doesn’t find that very promising, but she hops up from the couch and makes a beeline for his tiny kitchen. She’s sticking her head into his fridge before he plucks up enough lucidity to follow her.

“Do you like, ah--” What do kids like? What did he like as a kid? “Uh, how about a sandwich?”

“Sure,” says Aamal. She pulls her preferred makings, then rests her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands, and watches Jon assemble. A long-lost hope flutters at the edge of Jon’s memory, a future he’d once imagined: a little face looking up at him, a meal to be prepared, a solid presence at his side, stolen kisses that might make their daughter stick out her tongue and make gross-out noises in the way of children too young to know how rare and precious it is for their parents to love each other so easily.

“Does your hand hurt?” Aamal asks.

Jon comes back to himself. He blinks down at his hands; habitually, he’s only using the one, letting the other rest half-curled on the counter. “Ah. No, n-not today.”

Aamal stares for a moment, then draws a sharp breath and looks Jon in the eye. “Sorry!”

Jon lifts a brow. “What? Why?”

“It’s rude to ask about scars,” Aamal informs him, and something in her intonation sounds so like Georgie that it twists up Jon’s stomach in an odd amalgamation of fondness and loss. 

“Ah- well, as a general rule, maybe. But it’s alright.” He clears his throat, then stretches his burned hand with a small wince at its stiffness. Aamal watches his shaky fingers unfurl, and her eyes are intent, and maybe he’s imagining it, but… there’s a kindness there, he thinks. He tries not to think of other kind brown eyes, of other gazes falling so gently on his scars. “It hurts less than it used to,” he says softly. “I’ve had it since… lord, about a year before you were born, actually. Eleven months, almost to the day.”

At that, Aamal’s eyes grow wide. “Oh! Did you have me? Like, when I was born?”

“Oh! Uh, n-no, that wasn’t me.” Jon pulls his hand back, feeling very suddenly out of his depth. “Your, uh- did Geo-- did your mums tell you about that?” 

“Yeah. They told me that before they adopted me, my parents were two boys, but I wasn’t confused or anything. I know all about genders,” she says, with all the confidence of a tenured professor. Then she looks around, as if suddenly noticing an absence. “Wait, where’s my other daddy?” She turns back to Jon, and he’s struck by the worst urge to look away. “Will he be back soon?”

Jon meets her hopeful eyes, and for the first time in years, actually feels the wound yawning wide in his chest, deeper and bloodier than the scar through his heart has ever been. 

“No,” he says, very softly. Aamal’s face falls, her brows drawn in question. Jon can’t look at her. He stares at his good hand, knuckles yellowed by his grip on the edge of the counter. 

“He, uh.” He swallows. It goes down like rocks. “He’s not coming back.”

“Why?” Her voice is high, pinched with a note of anger. Unbidden, Jon chokes out a small, miserable laugh.

She sounds just like Martin.

“Because,” he says, raw, both hands shaking now, “I messed up very, very badly.”

thanks for reading this lil preview!! i’m almost finished with ch 1 and planning to publish on ao3 next week. it’s gonna alternate between the present and the past, told through Jon’s POV post-200, and Martin’s POV throughout season 4/5. 

[lemontwst]

welcome to the fandom!! Can I request a scenario where the leech twins have to leave for a couple of days to the ocean because their mating season has started and have to start looking for a mate, but reader gets jealous and tells them that they even if shes human she will do just fine. Im not sure if they do it in a nearby beach or whatever location of your choice, thanks in advance and good luck with your new blog!

ah yes! my favorite type of sandwich

content warnings: double penetration, threesome, breeding kink, monster boys.

"Here you go, koebi-chan~" The man in front of you chuckles maniacally, face flushed like he’s drunk as another serving of hot merman cum explodes in your stuffed pussy. “Here's what you've been waiting for, princess." The gentle voice of the man behind you has an unstable note to it as he pulls harshly at your turgid nipples, the pounding against your behind stops as semen fills your ass and then pours out and disperses in the ocean in a grotesque display of debauchery.

"You should have told us you wanted us to breed you from the start, silly~"

Salt water splashes all around you as the twins continue their unrelenting assault on your holes.

"Indeed, what a dishonest princess you are."

Strong arms keep your legs spread wide open, but your upper half remains above water because as much as the two moray eels like to torment you, they don’t actually want to drown you. You're still desperately gasping for oxygen however, exhausted from orgasming over and over again without pause. Your brain feels like it's about to melt out of your ears with every thrust of your lovers’ hips, their animalistic motions spurred by the primal urge to stuff you with eggs, Jade's cock claiming your ass while Floyd's pounds your tight cunt. Their alien, ribbed dicks feel amazing when they scrape against your pulsating walls, the friction sending electric jolts directly to your mushy brain and making you drool from sheer ecstasy. 

“So tight…” Floyd moans shamelessly into your left ear, his long, warm tongue drawing a slow circle around your ear shell. "So warm…" Jade sighs against your right ear, tongue sensually going up and down as his moist breaths fan against your skin. Their hot, needy moans echo inside your head and your holes clench painfully around their hard cocks in response.

Floyd lets out a quiet ‘fuck’ at your cute reaction and before you can even process the fact that you’re being thoroughly impregnated, the twins start thrusting in and out of you at different paces like you're their personal cock sleeve. Not enough. The three of you share one single, carnal thought. This isn't nearly enough. Your hands tangle in Floyd's hair and you pull him in for a kiss. It's lewd and sloppy, saliva drips down your chin and Floyd eagerly laps it up. 

Not to be undone by his twin, Jade begins to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck and the curve of your shoulder. His tongue runs languidly along the red teeth marks Floyd left behind, then he moves to the other side of your neck and bites down harder than his twin did, chuckling against your flesh when he hears you cry out against Floyd's mouth. You reach another toe-curling climax a few moments later, your body arching back into Jade’s hard chest and your head buzzing with pleasure. The second you come undone, Jade mercilessly grabs your chin and pulls you away from Floyd’s kiss, muffling your satisfied moans with his own, greedy mouth as he comes in your tight ass. Floyd immediately follows, sinking his jagged teeth into your shoulder, your pussy greedily milking his ribbed dick as it kisses your womb.

But no matter how much they cum, the twins remain hard and ready to go, the urge to fertilize your eggs overpowering every other need as they keep you squeezed between their huge bodies. As expected, mating season is rough. The two of them exchange a knowing look, their eyelights blinking ominously as they recoil from the pleasure of fucking you this hard.

“Wanna switch places, Jade?”

“Yes please, Floyd.”

Your limp body is turned around in the blink of an eye. Jade thrusts into you in a swift motion, his dick plunging through his twin’s cum to reach your cervix, and you don't have the time to catch your breath before Floyd shoves his own member up your abused asshole. Startled and dazed, you look up at Jade though teary lashes. He smiles and gives your forehead a little kiss, clawed hands giving your hips a playful squeeze. This is going to be a long day...

[thepatricktreestump]

whatever you say - peter parker imagine

A/N: I don’t normally write nsfw spidey things but my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing so please do forgive me… not any actual smut, just lots of flirting and implications of sexual favors

               It was strange, but for some reason, you found complete comfort in the simplicity that was Peter Parker. He lived in a small apartment with his Aunt May in Forest Hills, went to Midtown High, and at first glance, seemed like your typical teenage boy. May worked as an ER nurse and Peter kept up on his studies, proving to be a straight A student who succeeded not only in school, but in extracurriculars and academic teams as well. He liked science and math, he was really good at building robots, and he thoroughly enjoyed memorizing equations. When he wasn’t acing his tests, he spent his free time building LEGOs and watching Star Wars in his apartment or walking through town and debating between eating pizza or sub sandwiches. He had a messy bedroom cluttered with dirty laundry, an assortment of different computer parts, and countless science textbooks and academic journals. Three months ago, when you first started dating Peter Parker, this is the boy you thought you knew.

               Your life, however, felt like the complete opposite. Being the daughter of Tony Stark, your day to day was far from simple. You lived in Stark Tower with Tony, cooped up on a floor with everything you could ever want or need, a master bedroom with a flat screen television, personal jacuzzi, walk in closet, arcade- you name it, Tony had it. School proved to be a breeze, and you had your MIT valedictorian of a father to thank for that, leaving you plenty of time for your own sort of extracurriculars. Rather than hang out at school and build lousy robots with Peter Parker, you’d much rather go to the lab and work on some high tech AI coding, super suit dynamics, or machine prototypes with your dad and the other avengers. He often urged you not to get too involved for your own safety, but you found yourself growing close with Bruce and Sam, bonding over your shared love for innovation. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take after your father.

               However, months passed, and the more time you spent with Peter Parker, the more you caught onto the fact that his life might not have been as normal as you initially thought it was. He kept disappearing randomly, ghosting you on planned dates, or not showing up at school. At first you thought he was just nervous, or maybe he didn’t really like you, but upon further investigation, it was evident. His life was just as crazy as yours. Although you thought it was weird that he never bothered telling you he was Spider-Man, and even weirder he didn’t inform you that he previously knew your dad, you almost liked the fact that you could share your secret world of superhero knowledge with him. You found yourselves relating to each other by joking about Steve’s old fashioned manners or Natasha’s resting bitch face. Although, other times also through confiding secret fears or discussing worst possible outcomes.

               Tonight was one of the latter, you and Peter talking on the phone despite the time reading two in the morning, him trying to ease your anxiety. “It’s just been a couple days and Tony’s still not back yet…” you sighed, shrouded by your blankets, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the dark room. “He’s with Sam and he’s probably going to be just fine, but I’m still scared. And I know, I know. I’m not supposed have knowledge about those affiliated with the mission or his location, but sometimes I just can’t help but worry.”

               “It must be hard,” Peter hummed in sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. May feels the same way about me.”

               You paused for a moment. “I know it’s a horrible thing to think, and I’m probably just psyching myself out but-” your voice caught, shaking your head, closing your eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what if one day he just doesn’t come back.”

               “Hey,” Peter hushed. “Try not to think about that, okay? He’s Iron Man, y/n, he’s fought alien monsters and literal gods, he should be just fine. Mr. Stark never goes down without a fight, he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

               “I just can’t sleep not knowing,” you confessed, feeling sorry for dragging Peter into your own personal troubles. “I don’t know, I’m sorry… I’m probably keeping you up, and you have a calc test tomorrow-”

               “No, no, don’t apologize, you’re okay,” your sweet boyfriend insisted. He paused, listening to your heavy breathing. “Do you want me to come over?”

               “W-what?” you asked, confused.

               “I know it’s late but if it would make you feel better, I can come over,” Peter offered. “I’ll just come to your window and you can let me in that way. I can keep you company, you can talk to me, or we can watch a movie to get your mind off things, I don’t know. Only if you want to.”

               “You’d do that for me?” you wondered, growing soft at his words.

               “I just don’t want you to be sad,” he explained. “And I know it’s hard with your dad being gone and all, and sure Pepper’s there, but I know you’ve never really been that close with her, and I just- I don’t know. I feel like you’re lonely, and I want to help.”

               “Yeah, thank you,” you gave a soft smile. “I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t fight you on it.”

               “Just be sure to disarm FRIDAY before I come,” he reminded. “I don’t need your dad putting bars on your windows the next time I try to visit you like this.”

               “Oh right!” you suddenly came to the realization. “Smart. I’ll go do that now.”

               “Cool, I’ll see you in a few. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased.

“Hey, be safe! No texting and swinging!” you reminded playfully as you hung up and instantly got to work, shedding your sheets and grabbing your laptop, sliding back into bed and working out some coding.

               Just as Tony had previously set up a baby monitor protocol on Peter’s suit, he had likewise set up parental controls through FRIDAY on all of your tower floor. You learned this when you tried to sneak out to a party Tony specifically forbid you from going to, and when you finally reached the elevator doors, FRIDAY locked you inside and you had to wait for Tony to come and get you. Since then, you’d been smart enough to disarm the system anytime you left your room after curfew or got into any other business Tony would obviously disapprove of. Spider-Man sneaking through your window at two in the morning to give you comfort cuddles? Probably something your father would disapprove of.

               Peter tapped twice and waved, you rolling your eyes and laughing, motioning for him to come in before he slid up the glass of your window and crawled through, brushing off his suit and tugging off his mask, smiling once he clearly saw you sitting in bed, wearing one of his hoodies, grinning back at him.

“Hey Spidey,” you beamed, watching as he walked over towards your bed, kissing you softly. He tasted sweet, like candy, and you melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of his head and staying there for a moment before pulling away. He gave the best kisses.

               “Heard someone needed some cheering up,” he whispered, tossing his mask on your night stand as you made grabby hands begging him to crawl into bed with you. He chuckled, giving in and situating himself underneath your covers awkwardly. You laughed alongside him, tugging him closer, pulling the sheets up over both of you, initially wincing at how cold his suit was when you went to wrap your arms around him.

               “You’re freezing, Peter,” you hissed and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

               “It was windy outside, alright?” he sighed. “Come warm me up.”

               “Well come closer, doofus,” you chuckled. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, arm draped over his chest, fingers playing with locks of his hair. Your voice grew to a soft whisper. “Thanks for coming, baby.”

               “Anything for you, love,” he insisted, his hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. The room grew quiet, his hands trailing up and down your back, your fingers brushing through his messy brown locks, both of you simply enjoying each other’s company. At some point you both fell asleep, soft snores dissipating throughout the room, holding each other.

                In the morning, Peter begrudgingly convinced himself he had to get up and get ready for school, kissing you on the forehead and reassuring he’d see you at lunch later that day. You groaned yourself, realizing you should probably get up and resume FRIDAY’s commands before Pepper or Happy got suspicious as to why she wasn’t giving them any updates on your morning status. You took a shower and threw on some clothes, getting ready for the school day, smiling once you saw Peter waiting for you by your locker, a Starbucks cup in his hand.

               “What’s this?” you couldn’t help but laugh in surprise.

               “Well I know you were sad last night and again, I just wanted to cheer you up,” he shrugged, and you found it adorable that you had been dating for going on four months now and he still got flustered being around you. “I know you like the pink one with the strawberries and the coconuts, but they were out, so I got you a peach lemonade instead, I hope that’s okay-”

               “It’s wonderful, Peter,” you insisted, taking a sip and smiling fondly at your boyfriend. “Thank you. For everything. Really.”

               “Damn Peter, you’re buying y/n Starbucks now?” Ned approached both of you. “You never buy me Starbucks.”

               “I’m not dating you, Ned,” Peter narrowed his eyes, laughing.

               “You don’t have to kiss me to buy me a cold brew,” Ned sighed.

               “Anyways,” you rolled your eyes at the two boys quarreling. “You ready for that calculus exam?”

               “I studied all night,” Ned smiled. “I’ve got this one down. How about you, Parker? I bet you were up late last night studying too, huh?”

               “Up late last night,” you agreed. “I don’t know about studying though.”

               Ned’s eyes went wide and both you and Peter laughed, the bell ringing and all of you walking to your classes. As they day went by, you started to find your mind lingering back to your dad. As much of an asshole as he was sometimes, and as overbearing and overprotective as he could get, you really did love him and care about him. Others would probably call you lame, but you really did see Tony as one of your best friends. He helped you build amazing inventions, supported you in all your academic endeavors, and did his best to look out for you. Whenever he was gone on missions for longer than a week, you always started to get worried as far as whether or not he would come back.

               Peter could sense your anxiety, trying to lighten your mood with jokes or place a hand on your shoulder as a sign of affection. Afterschool he approached you, clutching onto the straps of his backpack, seeming nervous. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough day. I was thinking we could take your mind off of things and you could spend the night at my place tonight?” he offered.

               “Really?” your eyes lit up, thinking how you would love more than anything to get out and do something tonight. Nothing was worse than staying at home and wallowing in your feelings.

“Yeah,” he gave a soft smile, thinking about how adorable you looked when you got excited. “Aunt May is working night shift so maybe, if it’s cool with you, we can grab a pizza, play some video games, and then watch a movie?”

               “Of course,” he insisted. “And we can stop somewhere on the way home to grab some snacks too.”

               “I’ll give Pepper a call and ask if I can stay over tonight, I’ll probably just say I’m with Gwen or something,” you grinned. “She’ll say yes, she usually lets me have free rein whenever Tony’s out of town.”

               “Awesome,” Peter beamed.

               Sure enough, you found the two of you hours later on the floor of his bedroom, eyes fixated on a television screen, playing Mario Kart and chowing down on some pepperoni pizza and cherry slushies. It was practically a ritual for you to hang out with Peter on weekends. As long as he didn’t have an academic decathlon the next morning, Aunt May let you stay as late as you wanted on Fridays. Saturdays you spent fooling around in the lab working on suit modifications, recalibrating certain machinery, or working on new projects. Sundays were official lazy days, both of you usually sleeping in and meeting up midday to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, usually wrapping up with finishing your weekend homework over facetime. However, on the weekends in which Tony or May were out of the house, the two of you liked to have sleepovers. Usually at Peter’s for the sake of having to navigate FRIDAY’s complicated algorithms.

               It wasn’t like anything particularly steamy happened between the two of you. You had been only dating for a handful of months now, and you were both in high school. Sure, you and Peter liked to cuddle a lot, and hold hands, and play with each other’s hair, but that was simply just affection. And of course, you loved kissing each other, especially when nobody else was around to make fun of you or scold you. Sometimes you found yourself getting into make out sessions, pressed up against each other and finding it hard to catch your breath, hearts racing and desperately clinging onto each other.

Occasionally it would heat up a little bit more than that, some grinding and groping and moaning, and a handful of times Peter’s taken his shirt off, but that was about it. You hadn’t even really reached second base with him yet. And you weren���t complaining, you were glad you were taking things slow. But at this point, you were ready. It just felt like it was time. But you knew this was Peter’s first serious relationship, and you didn’t want to put any pressure on him or rush him into things, so you were complacent with playing Mario Kart and eating pizza in the meantime.

               “I am sooo going to kick your ass,” you warned Peter, pressing down hard on your Wii remote and hitting him with a red shell as your character zoomed past him on the race track, and he simply just laughed.

               “Yeah? Wait till I break out Rainbow Road,” he insisted.

               “Are you actually Satan or do you just hate me?” you narrowed your eyes. “There is no way I’m playing that shit, I think I’d rather forfeit.”

               “It’s all about strategy and focus,” he argued, knocking Luigi out from second place, tailing right behind you, eyes glued to the screen.

               “Strategy? You sound like Ned,” you snorted, drifting a curve and heading towards a shortcut. “That racetrack is nothing but a holographic highway of death.”

               “If we had it your way, we would be playing Moo Moo Meadows on an endless loop,” Peter teased and you gasped playfully.

               “What? It has fun music and I like looking at the cows,” you whined and he laughed, passing you at the last minute and scoring first place, making your jaw drop. “What the hell? How?”

               “What can I say? You’re dating a winner, baby,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head and taking another bite of your pizza.

               “I’m dating a jackass,” you joked. “You can’t let me win just once? Come on, be nice.”

               “I used to do that, and you made fun of me for it,” he pointed out. “Remember the first week we started dating?”

               “You literally used to go in reverse until I caught up with you,” you replied flatly. “It was ridiculous, Peter. It’s not like you made it subtle that I happened to suck at the game or anything.”

               “I just didn’t want you to feel bad,” he reassured, and you chuckled, taking a sip of your slurpee and sighing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

               “So another round or are we going to move onto Smash Bros?” you raised an eyebrow.

               “Up to you,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his pizza as well.

               “How about we play another round of Mario Kart,” you suggested. “But whoever wins gets a prize.”

               “Like what?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the mischievous grin on your face, doubtful.

               “I don’t know, a hoodie or something,” you perused innocently and he let out a breathy laugh.

               “You’ve already stolen all of mine, so I’m not sure I’d have another one to give you quite honestly,” he admitted and you smiled, mind wandering elsewhere.

               “What about…” you pouted your lips, trying to think up something good. “What about if I win, I get to do anything I want to you? And if you win, you get to do anything you want to me. All within reasonable boundaries of course.”

               “Woah,” Peter’s eyes widened. “Is this the part when you tell me you actually work for Hydra and you gut me like a fish or something?”

               “Pshh no that’s ridiculous,” you shook your head.

               “What do you mean ‘do whatever you want to me?’ Huh?” he inquired, mischievously raising an eyebrow. “This seems oddly torture-like.”

               “It’s not going to be torturing,” you stared at him, unamused. “I could never hurt you.”

               “Then what could you possibly want to do to me?” he sighed, looking at you, entertained with your shenanigans, taking a sip of his cherry slushie.

               “I dunno,” you shrugged, stirring your straw in your cup a couple times before casually telling him your suggestion. “Suck your dick I guess.”

               He instantly spat out his slurpee, eyes widening, shocked. “E-excuse me, what?”

               “I said if I win, I’d probably suck your dick I guess,” you shrugged again and he blinked at you, entire face flushed red, stuttering and stunned all at the same time. Your lips curled up in a small smile, thinking of how much you loved to see him like this, a literal blushing virgin. He was adorable, really.

               “Well gosh, I uh…” he looked down at the red icee he had spat all over his t-shirt and then up at you, still at a loss for words. “You don’t really have to beat me at Mario Kart to get my permission to do that, you know.”

               “Yeah, but this way makes it a lot more fun, yes?” you smirked and he swallowed awkwardly, absolutely frazzled.

               “S-sure, I guess you’re right there,” he nodded slowly, still staring blankly at the slushie stains. “How do you know I’m not going to just let you win?”

               “Because…” you drew out, looking at him, still smirking. “If you win, then you get to do whatever you want to me.”

               He paused, turning towards you, breath hitching. “Anything?”

               “Well again, no torture or killing or whatever but-” you clarified and he laughed, rolling his eyes.

               “Yeah, of course, but uh…” he got lost staring at you again and you couldn’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking of. “Shit, I’m in.”

               “Really?” you bit down on your lower lip, almost too excited for this bet.

               “Definitely,” he nodded, feeling a bit more confident. “Just give me a second.” He slipped off his t-shirt and you watched intently, noting how built and lean he was. There were certain perks to dating Spider-Man, and it was moments when your boyfriend was sitting in front of you shirtless like this that you were ever most grateful for them.

               “Well shit, Parker,” you laughed to yourself and he stared at you, confused.

               “What? My shirt had slushie all over it,” he insisted and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes.

               “Uh huh…”

               “No for real!”

               “Totally not trying to tease me or anything over here.”

               “Oh whatever! Just start the game.”

               “Give me a second,” you insisted, reaching down and deciding to take it one step further, slipping off your own sweatshirt and revealing your bra underneath, looking at him, anticipating his reaction. Seeing him like this, you wanted to take a picture and capture it forever. He looked breathless, staring at you, his eyes dark and fixated, his lips parted, mesmerized. You couldn’t help but smile. “See something you like, Spidey?”

               “Yeah,” his eyes flickered up to yours, still blushing. “You.”

               Grinning, you leaned over to kiss him, then pulled away, picking up your Wii remote and selecting your favorite racetrack. “Good luck,” you winked.

“Good luck yourself,” he laughed. “Seeing as the only time you ever beat me in Mario Kart is when my controller dies, I think you’re the one who’s going to need it.”

“Fine, to hell with luck,” you rolled your eyes as the countdown started. “Maximum effort.”

               Both of you pressed down hard, zooming through the track, eyes fixated on the screen, cursing and screaming and hooting and hollering as you gained power ups and got knocked off the road by each other. By far, the most intense game of Mario Kart you’ve ever played in your life. Each round you seemed to egg each other on more and more, and although you clearly knew how this was going to end, you couldn’t help but at least try your very best. First place trophy spinning on the screen, Peter’s tongue ran over his lower lip, glancing over at you as nervousness flowered in your chest. What did he have in mind?

               “I don’t think either of us saw that coming,” he stated sarcastically and you looked at him incredulously.

               “Alright then Peter Parker,” you hummed lightheartedly, shutting off the television and setting your controller down, sighing as you leaned back and rest your weight upon your backwards palms. “What do you have planned for me?”

               “Well…” he looked at you shyly, almost hesitant, and you began to grow even more curious. “I know you said ‘anything I wanted’ or whatever, but I want to make this enjoyable for you too, and that sure you’re okay with everything I’m doing.”

               “By all means, don’t stop for me,” you insisted, small smile tugging on the edge of your lips. “If you say or do anything I don’t like, I’ll speak up. Don’t worry.” He hummed softly in acknowledgment, nodding as he looked towards the floor, still nervous, then cleared his throat.

               “I think seeing as your intentions were to seduce me, I guess I have no choice but to go along with the theme,” he rolled his eyes playfully, slowly gaining confidence and crawling closer to you, making your heart beat twice as fast. He kissed you on the lips, soft and sweet and slow, and then pulled away, lowering his face so that his mouth was barely brushing up against your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper. The entire mood of the room shifted, into something more serious. “So, I think you should lay on the bed for me.”

               “Whatever you say,” you smiled sweetly, trying to hide your nervousness and doing as told, getting up and making your way to his bed, laying down on your back, watching as he stood at the end, looking you up and down, licking his lips. You could tell something inside of him changed. He didn’t seem so timid anymore, afraid to suggest something or speak up. His shoulders rolled back, his feet planted solid in the ground, his entire stance exuding confidence. It was different, dominant and alluring, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it. He was entrancing like this, dark eyes gazing over your body, shirtless, hands dipping down into the waistband of his jeans, brows furrowed, pondering what to do with you.

               “Hands up. Against the bedframe,” he ordered, and you looked at him, trying to analyze what he had in mind as you tentatively did as instructed, positioning your arms above you, against the wooden frame. In what seemed like an instant, he suddenly flicked his wrists outward, webs springing from his fingers and you gasped as the sticky substance pinned your hands above you, a mess of webs fixating them to the wooden plank. You eyes widened and then narrowed.

               “Didn’t know Spidey was into bondage,” you bit down on your lower lip, aroused by his dominance and playfulness all the same.

               “Didn’t know you could be so naughty,” he quipped back and you blushed, trying to look away, shy.

               “Nuh uh, none of that,” he argued with a chuckle, crawling on top of you and raising your face to look at him with one of his hands, making your eyes meet. “If I do recall correctly, you were offering to suck me off a moment earlier. Seemed pretty eager too.”

               “Still am if that’s what you fancy, Peter,” you suggested, eyes twinkling with a glint of naughtiness, but he just shook his head, smiling.

               “I think I have other plans for you tonight,” he insisted, kissing you again this time, but rougher, his tongue sliding in between your lips and up against your own, then retreating to have his teeth catch your lower lip, dragging it between them before he pulled away, devilish smirk on his face.

               “Mind filling me in on the agenda?” you asked with a breathy voice, fluttering your eyelids and parting your lips, bucking your hips up to meet his.

               “It involves your pants off, and my head between your legs, and you moaning my name,” his eyes flickered up to meet yours. “And then me fucking you into this bed until those moans turn into screams.”

               “Holy fuck,” you whispered, eyes glazed over, staring at him, practically speechless.

               “Sound good to you, sweetheart?” he hummed, fingers tracing over your stomach, playing with the hem of your waistband.

               “Shit…” you laughed to yourself quietly, eyes still fixated on him, feeling unbelievably flustered. “I think I ought to up the ante on Mario Kart wins a whole lot more from now on.”

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (10)

In Which Marinette Says the Thing

I was the most excited about this chapter and had most of it written already. :)

Also, I bumped up the rating a bit because there’s extremely mild nudity in this chapter. 

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

She looked fierce. Nails done, a cute, white skirt (that she hadn’t spilled her breakfast on!) and a red and white polka dot blouse. She was cute, she was hot, and she was ready to nab her man! 

Said man walked into class wearing...

Oh boy. 

A leather jacket, with no shirt underneath, a kilt, and knee high combat boots. There was not a single person that didn’t stare at him. 

“Sup nerds?” 

Nino entered with him, slightly chuckling, like he had heard a very funny inside joke. 

Marinette gawked at him. “Adrien...” 

“Aww! Pooh Bear! Look at how cute you are!” 

Marinette’s initial horror in his appearance turned into excitement. He called her cute! 

“Adrien, do we have to have this dress code talk again?” Miss Bustier sighed. 

It turned out he did have a shirt on under the jacket. A black button-up. He untucked the flaps, and buttoned them, unevenly, to cover his sweet sweet bod. “Better?” 

Miss Bustier shook her head, but urged him to sit down. 

“Soooo,” Alya asked, with a wiggling eyebrow. “Are you wearing that kilt...properly?” 

He grabbed the hem, squeezing his knees together to shuffle shyly. “You wanna see?” 

Marinette burst into color. “Adrien!” 

He laughed, “oh, I’m just kidding. I’m wearing boxers under this.” 

“Alright everyone, get in your seats, it’s time to start!” 

—

Marinette tried to do her very best to stay calm. But the very idea that a confession to Adrien would be happening today kept her distracted. 

She stared at him, watching as he scrawled notes...in Chinese? He really was an overachiever! 

The day passed in a crawl, Marinette fretting every minute. 

Then the lunch bell rang, and students began to pack up for break. 

“Adrien?” She blurted, her hands shaking. 

He turned and looked at her, grinning, and lowering his sunglasses to flash her half-lidded eyes. “You rang?” 

“Um...can we talk together? Er, go somewhere together to talk? I have something I want to tell you.” 

His grin turned into a full tooth smile. “Of course! Where to?” 

“Um...mom’s got stuff for sandwiches, if you want to come over.” 

“Sounds wonderful!” He packed up his bag, and then held out his hand for her. 

He wanted to hold her hand! Ah! 

Nervously smiling, she put her hand in his, and let him lead her from the room. 

At the risk of having a horribly awkward lunch, she took the lead, and led him upstairs to the slowly emptying third floor. 

“What’s up here?” 

“I...can’t wait anymore. If this makes things weird, you could probably catch up with Nino or the guys...” 

He very gently touched her cheek. “I told you I wanted to have lunch with you, and I will. So say whatever you have to say.” He took his sunglasses off and put them on his head. 

Marinette took a huge breath. “Now, I just need to know...who is the real you? Are you...is this who you are, and you were suppressing the rebellious, chaotic side? Or are you putting on a show?” 

He blinked at her, eyes wide. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“I mean...I support whoever you are. I want you to feel free to be you, and celebrate what makes you special, but...” she tucked some hair behind her ear, a nervous motion. “I just miss the boy I fell in love with.” 

“Marinette...” 

“I love you no matter what, though! I promise! I just...your kindness, your shy sweetness and honesty really captivated me. That day when you gave me your umbrella, and you went out of your way to apologize for the misunderstanding. You didn’t have to. I was the one that jumped to conclusions, but you wanted to make friends and get on the right foot with me. Your laughter, your smile...I was a goner.” She hugged the strap of her purse. “So this new version of you has been jarring, but...if I’ve been reading your signs right...?” 

He pulled her into a hug. “Oh Marinette. Sweet, kind, thoughtful Marinette. You’ve figured me out. This is all an act. Except my attitude towards you. I feel the same.” 

“You...love me?” 

“Yes. More than I can express.” 

She raised her head, tilting her chin and slowly closing her eyes. 

The gag kiss during truth or dare was one thing, but Adrien would kill Plagg if he kissed Marinette in earnest like this. 

Instead, he pressed a finger to her lips and smiled at her confused look. “Not yet. The timing isn’t right. If I could give you the world, I would. In fact, anything else, I’ll give it to you. You have my heart, and that will be yours as long as you want it. But I don’t think you want a relationship right now.” 

“I’m confused...” Marinette said, her lips trembling. 

“I want to protect you from my father and Lila. If I make you my girlfriend, they will try to hurt you to get to me. I’d hate to ask you to wait for me, since you’ve finally gotten the courage up to confess...but would you wait?” 

Marinette reached up to hold his face, letting her thumb pass reverently over his cheek. How had she gotten so lucky to fall for a man so thoughtful? So loving? 

“Adrien, I’d wait a hundred years to be with you. It’ll be our secret for now.” 

He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted more from the conversation-“ 

“Just knowing my feelings are returned are enough. Thank you.” 

He took her hand again. “You still want to feed me sandwiches? Do I still deserve it?” 

“Of course you do...My Prince.” 

Plagg almost retched, but he schooled his face into an adoring grin before he faced her again. “That’s adorable!” 

“You like it?” 

“I love it!” It was just cheesy enough for Adrien. 

“Then that’ll be your nickname...in secret. No one else will know.” 

“I think you’ll come to find that our little secret will be so much more fun between us.” 

—

After lunch, Plagg and Marinette returned to school. They stopped holding hands as they approached the building, but they stood close and bumped each other coyly. 

The behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Alya or Lila. But Alya was the only one to confront them. 

“You two seem close,” she asked, twinkle in her eye. 

“Oh, we just had a very funny lunch together.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yep. Some great inside jokes. You had to be there.” Plagg sent a wink at Marinette and she seemed to swoon on the spot. 

Plagg let her go back to her seat, ignoring the whispering from the girls behind him. 

They thought he couldn’t hear them. He could. 

Nino bumped his elbow. “Everything cool dude?” 

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you later.” 

—

Later came after school, of course. The second Plagg and Nino were away from school property, Plagg blurted out, “I’m a genius. I got Marinette to confess her undying love for Adrien. Boo-yah!” 

“What?!” Nino shrieked. “Dude! She’s been trying to get that out for months! How on earth—no, wait. I know the answer.” 

“Confidence.” 

“And obvious flirting.” Nino scoffed. “Adrien always threw out the line, ‘you’re such a good friend’ in front of her. It was like wearing a big sign that said, ‘I will reject you!’” 

“I’m right here, you know,” Adrien said, poking his head out of Plagg’s jacket. “And to my defense, I was trying to be faithful to—“

Plagg covered his mouth before he could accidentally reveal Marinette as Ladybug. “No excuses, lover boy!” 

Thankfully, Adrien seemed to realize the mistake he almost made and nodded. “Fine, fine. I appreciate that you didn’t kiss her...again. So now what? Have we fulfilled that part of the contract yet?” 

“Not quite.” He held up the ring. A paw print with three pads faintly shone on the surface. “Once a condition is met, you’ll hear the ring give its telltale beep and a pad will disappear. Once the paw print completely vanishes...well, you’ll be back in your own body anyway.” 

“So...what do I need to do? She already confessed to me.” 

This was a conversation better had without Nino involved. Of course he was a bro, and would be helpful for things. But Ladybug’s identity should still remain a secret. 

“Nino...” Plagg began, with a drawl. “How much do you know about the birds and the bees?” 

Nino sputtered. “HA! BYE!” And he made an about face and hurried towards home. 

“Wait Nino!” Called Adrien. 

“We’ll meet up with you later!” Plagg sang after. 

Adrien looked to his body. “Please tell me you don’t have to...get up to some nasty stuff with my lady. Sure, it’s my body, but you’re like a bazillion years old and I was rather hoping to wait until marriage—“ 

“Calm down, Romeo. No, there’s not any hanky panky involved. I just needed to get Nino to leave without saying, ‘hey leave’. If he’s going to be suspicious, I need him on a whole other wavelength.” 

“Okay, so if there’s no horizontal tango happening, then what are we doing?” 

Plagg slipped the ring off his finger. “You need to spend time with her. Tell her or don’t. Just spend time with her outside of school and akumas and get to know her better. For an alibi, tell her that you haven’t been feeling well and you need to be in proximity of the Miracle Box. Then have her send her earrings to me so things stay even.” 

“Will she go for that?” 

“Probably. You know her better than I do.” 

“What about the ring? Don’t you need to wear it because we’re switched?”

“Nah. It should be alright for a little while. It should stay with my body though.” 

“Okay...I guess...I’ll go see Marinette.” 

“Have fun!” Plagg wiggled his fingers in a farewell and started walking to where Nino had disappeared. 

Nervous as all get out, Adrien fled to the bakery, trying to figure out what he was going to tell Marinette. 

When was it appropriate to come clean? How long should he wait? Should he blab at all? 

Soon, he was hovering above her trap door, and peering inside. Marinette sat at her desk, music playing as she worked on homework. Her head bobbed to some tunes. 

“Okay, she thinks you’re Plagg. So she’ll welcome you in and listen to what you tell her. And if she finds out you’re Adrien, then she loves Adrien and everything will be fine. Right? Right!” He psyched himself up. 

Using his poorly practiced phasing powers, he entered her room and came to float by her desk. “Hiya pigtails!” He chirped, in the typical Plagg style. 

She jerked, before turning to him. Her eyes landed on the ring and widened with surprise. “Why do you have that?! Is Chat okay?! What’s wrong?!” She stood, and nearly knocked over her chair. 

Even Tikki looked surprised. 

“Everything is fine!” He rushed to rectify. Then he remembered Plagg’s crafted lie. “Mostly. I haven’t been feeling very good, so I think I need to be closer to the Miracle Box for a little bit. I brought the ring for you, if you would send Tikki to Chat for a little while. That way he’s covered in case there’s an Akuma attack.” 

Luckily, she bought his dirty fib and started to remove her earrings. “Oh, well if you aren’t feeling well, that means Chat won’t be in top form. We can’t have that! Of course we can trade!” She took the earrings off and handed them to Tikki, before putting on the ring. 

Adrien felt a tingle down his spine as the black metal turned rose gold on her dainty finger. 

“Is he at home?” Asked Tikki. 

“No, come with me, I’ll tell you.” And he escorted her up to the balcony. 

“Did Plagg put you up to this?” She asked, once outside. “This seems like one of his hair brained schemes.” 

“I mean...he came up with the excuse...but I thought Marinette’s confession today would fulfill one of the conditions of the contract, but it didn’t. Plagg said I should just spend time with her.” 

Thankfully, Tikki was the nice one. She patted his paws. “I’m sure you miss her too. I won’t say anything. But I will be having a word with Plagg about this whole thing. He should know that body swaps don’t always work!” 

“Don’t tell me that! I’m struggling as it is!” 

“Sorry!” She giggled. “Why don’t you go on in. Be prepared though. She’s been all sighs since ‘Adrien’ returned her feelings today.” 

If he could blush, he would have. “Oh boy...” 

“Where am I going?”

“Oh, Plagg is staying with Nino now. He left home. And uhhh...Nino knows. About me, not Marinette.” 

She scoffed. “That rascal.” 

“Thanks for understanding, Tikki.” 

“I’m understanding with you, because you’re the victim of a manipulative, chaotic creature of destruction and havoc.” 

“He can be a bit of a turd.” 

“What am I doing? You could be spending time with the love of your life! Now, go on!” Tikki pushed him towards the door before flitting off to Nino’s. 

Suddenly faced with seeing Marinette again, and continuing to lie to her face, he sheepishly returned to her room. 

She had ducked out for the moment, and he found himself alone. 

Alone, but surrounded by dozens of pictures of himself. 

Knowing about her crush put these photos in a different context, for sure. 

“Just a fan” she said. She was a big fat liar too! 

“Adorable, isn’t he?” Her voice grabbed him while he was off guard. 

“Uhhh...I guess? For a human?” 

She giggled, and set down the plate of cheese danishes onto her desk. “That’s Adrien. He’s kind of my boyfriend. It’s not official yet, but he loves me.” She smiled widely. “He told me just today.” 

“‘Kind of’ your boyfriend? You’re okay with that?” 

“He can’t date right now because of his father. But he asked me to wait for him. I’d wait a thousand years for him.” 

His heart hammered in his chest. “What about three years? What if he can’t date until he’s 18?” 

“That’s fine.” She said nonchalantly. “We can still hang out. We can focus on school and drama doesn’t have to come between us...” 

“And if someone else available comes along?”

Marinette couldn’t know the real reason he was asking that question. She just fondly patted his head. “Sorry Plagg. I know you care a lot about Chat, but Adrien...Adrien means the world to me. I love Chat too, but in a different way. And he’s not available, not to me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Chat will always just be my partner. Can only be my partner. We couldn’t date if I wanted too. It would be too difficult.” She sat back at her desk and sighed. “It would hurt too much.” 

Adrien was struck speechless. How was he even supposed to respond to that? Was that an admission that she actually did have some feelings for Chat Noir? 

It didn’t matter. Not now. “I didn’t mean to put you on the offensive. I was just...curious, is all. I’m happy you’ve found someone who loves you.” 

She smiled at him then, scooping him out of the air and scratching his cheek with her finger. “Thanks Plagg. I hope I didn’t come off as snooty. I know you care about Chat. But he can fight his own battles.” 

Her words made him feel like garbage. She had no idea, of course. Because up until the body swap, Adrien’s battles were not being fought. They were purposefully not being fought, because he was too chicken shit to upset anyone. 

“Yeah...he’s brave alright...” he muttered. 

Marinette settled down at her desk and continued on her homework. 

What was a boy to do? He sat on the desk, and helped himself to the cheese danishes. 

They were almost worth the trip over here by themselves. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Marinette asked, eyebrow quirked. 

At that, Adrien realized with thinly veiled horror that he had been moaning. 

Eek. 

“These are the most delicious things I’ve ever had!” Or maybe it was because Plagg had only fed him Camembert until now. Sure, Plagg’s taste buds were attuned to the foul stuff, but after a while, the same foods over and over get old. 

Marinette just smiled at him fondly and continued with her work. 

Would it be odd to look at her? Would she notice? He certainly found it hard to look away. He couldn’t stare at her during school. Not as Plagg, and not as Adrien from now on. 

She tapped her pencil against her perfectly kissable lips, scrunching her nose and narrowing her eyes as she studied the page. It was adorable, but more so, it was the same face she made as Ladybug, when she was trying to solve her Lucky Charm. 

Was it hindsight? Or if he saw Marinette making that face, would he have realized it? 

Would he have cared enough to look at her?

Of course he would! He argued with himself. Marinette was always special, and her being Ladybug only elevated her in his mind. It was a match that made sense. Of course she was Ladybug. No one else could be so…wonderful. 

But faced with her, and not knowing what to say or how to begin to explain the truth, he had to ask himself the tell tale question:

Did he like Marinette now because she was Ladybug? Or did he always like her, and was only in denial?

He begged it was the second. It had to be. 

Her qualities were the same. There was nothing about Marinette that made him recoil or actively deny her identity. 

Scratch that, Marinette was ridiculously clumsy. 

But besides that, they were the same. 

“Thinking about something tough over there?” Marinette asked. 

“Huh? Oh. Uh...yeah. You know how it is.” Like that made any sense. 

“Right. Like I could understand the problems of a Kwami.” She teased. “If you need to talk, I’m all ears.” 

Soon. Soon he’d explain everything. But right now, he was just too nervous and scared of her wrath. “Thanks Marinette. I appreciate it. But I don’t want to distract you from your homework.” 

She shrugged a little, not wanting to pry, before going back to work. 

Adrien and Marinette shared the cheese danishes, and occasionally talked as she worked. When she got severely stuck, he would throw her a few hints. 

Then she stretched, finished. “Oh thank goodness! I’m so tired, and I could use a lazy evening.” 

“Marinette! Dinner time!” 

“Well, after dinner, I’d like a lazy evening.” She scratched Adrien’s head. “Let’s just hope there’s no Akuma attack.” 

“Fingers crossed!” 

“You’ll be fine up here alone?” 

“Of course. Have fun with your parents.” 

“Oh,” she wilted. “Should I tell them about Adrien?” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m just scared that my nosy parents will ask a hundred questions. And we’re not even official.” 

“Maybe by mentioning it now, when it becomes official, it won’t be much of a shock.”

“And maybe we can avoid another disaster like when my dad got akumatized. You’re right.” She couldn’t help but sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you how it goes!” And she went downstairs. 

Adrien sat on her desk, scanning the walls and taking in all of his pictures. She really loved him, didn’t she? 

And how long had that gone on, and he never noticed? 

Was it okay to snoop? Of course morally and ethically, no, it wasn’t. But he was technically her sort of boyfriend. It couldn’t hurt. 

Right?

So he snooped. Just a precursory glance through her belongings. It was all very innocent. 

Until he found the pink half-circle book. Her diary. 

Maybe it was the influence of Plagg’s magic in him. Or this whole experience was turning him into a rascal. 

But he opened the book and started to read. 

The entries were pretty innocent too. Day to day things, balancing life as a superhero and a student. She mentioned him a few times. Using phrases like, ‘golden hair’, ‘handsome face’, ‘emerald eyes’, and ‘abundant kindness’. She wrote about the times they interacted. From him catching her when she tripped, to the glances they shared. Just the smallest interactions between them, she cherished. 

It almost made his heart hurt with how moved he was. 

And then there was an entry whose content made him feel a different sort of pain. She recounted a day he had not experienced. Her encounter with his akuma, Chat Blanc. 

He read the pages, soaking up every heart breaking moment. All the cruel things he had said to her that he would have never known. Why hadn’t she said anything? Was it too painful? Or did…

Did she think he didn’t need to know?

The diary slammed shut as he was finishing the entry, and a very angry and embarrassed Marinette stood over him, glaring. “Little snoop.” 

“Yeah yeah, cats and curiosity and all that. So sue me.” 

She took the book away and put it in a box with a lid. “Remind me never to leave you alone in my room ever again.” 

“Aw, you’re no fun.” 

She walked away, heading to her dresser. “Are you like this with Chat, too?”

“Oh, I’m much worse. You have no idea.” 

She laughed at him, and took her pajamas out of her drawers. 

Then without warning, she took off her pants. 

And Adrien’s mouth went dry. He watched as she slipped on her pajama pants, and then took off her shirt, and even her bra, before putting on a loose t-shirt. 

He was not going to get that image out of his head for a long, long time. 

She turned to him and started talking like nothing had happened. “So what do you want to do? I’m all done with homework, and so as long as there’s no Akuma attack, I can do whatever I want. What do you and Chat usually do?” 

Adrien didn’t know how to tell her he didn’t really have free time. Plagg just looked up cheese blogs on his phone, or watched a movie while Adrien worked on homework. 

“You pick. I’ll just watch if you want to play video games or design.” 

“I’m actually kind of tired. I might just watch videos in bed.” 

“Sounds fun! Can I join?”

“Sure! Whatever you want, Plagg.” Marinette climbed her ladder up to her loft and settled against her pillows. She pulled a fuzzy blanket around her legs and sighed in content. “Just what the doctor ordered!”

Adrien hesitated a moment, trying to decide where to sit. Her shoulder? Her stomach?

But Marinette took the choice away and patted her chest, just above her heart.

Eagerly, he settled, curling his tail around his body, and absorbing her body heat. She scratched between his ears and made him purr almost instantly. 

This was heaven. When he got his body back, he’d lay his head here. Hopefully, she’d scratch his scalp just the same. 

The videos played on her phone, just memes. Every time she chuckled, her chest would rumble with the noise, and fill him with joy. 

He could hear her heart beating. The heart she had opened for him just today. A heart that he lived in. 

And then her phone started flashing with a red light. And akuma alert!

“Uh oh!” Marinette clicked on the alert, checking out the details. “It’s a sentimonster! Come on Plagg, we can’t leave Misterbug out to dry!”

As she scaled the ladder to her balcony, he panicked. How was this going to work? Was she going to notice once they transformed? Would he be able to hear her thoughts like he could when Plagg transformed?

Would he look through her eyes?

She raised the hand with the ring on it. “Alright! Plagg, Claws out!” 

Nothing happened. 

“Um...Plagg, Claws out?” 

“Oh.” Adrien gasped, “oh no.” 

“Oh no what? Are you broken? Do I need to fix you?” 

“No! I mean—sort of, but you already did your part! I’m just...” 

“Plagg, what’s going on?” 

He sighed, screwing up his lips and unintentionally showing his fangs. “Um...I’m not...I’m not actually Plagg.” 

She stared at him, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. “Then...who are you?” 

“Promise you won’t be mad?” 

“No guarantees!” 

“Well, okay.” He gulped. “I’m...Adrien?” 

She blinked. “Adrien? Like...no. No no no not like Adrien Agreste, my new supposed boyfriend?!” 

“That’s me! Hi P-Pooh Bear?” 

“What?!” She shrieked. “How?! When?! What—“ she snatched him out of the air with firm hands. “HAVE YOU BEEN ADRIEN THIS WHOLE TIME?” 

“I mean, I’ve been Adrien my whole life,” he awkwardly chuckled. 

“No, no don’t joke with me right now.” She sniffed. “How long have you been like this?” 

“Um...about two weeks now. Since that day he came to school in a crop top.” 

Marinette shut her eyes tight, a few tears slipping past her cheeks. “That long...” 

“Marinette?” 

“So it was all a lie? Plagg’s just—messing with us? With me? You don’t really—“ she squeezed her eyes shut and started crying in earnest. 

“No! No Marinette! Of course I love you! I’ve always loved you, you know that! The second I learned you were Ladybug, everything made sense! I was so happy and I told Plagg he had to win you over. Please Marinette, this was never supposed to be malicious.” He nuzzled against her fingers, offering up a purr. “I promise.” 

With her free hand, she wiped her face. “Alright, well suppose I believe you. What happened? Why are you like this?” 

“I made a deal with the devil. Plagg, specifically. He said he was tired of me complaining all the time. So he said he could solve all my problems if I just agreed to it. Then I woke up in his body.” 

“What problems?” 

“Well...my unrequited love for you, for one.” 

She blushed. 

“My relationship with my father for two, and the third is Lila’s harassment.” 

“Oh, I get it now.” Marinette sighed. “That’s why he was doing all those things...” 

“You mean dressing like a moron and messing with Lila?”

“Yes. And flirting with me.” 

“To be honest,” he scratched the back of his head. “I would have flirted with you earlier if I had known you were Ladybug. I liked you before, I was just trying to pretend I didn’t, because I wanted to be loyal to...well, you.” 

She held him softly in her hands. “We’ve made a mess of things, haven’t we?” 

“It was for our own good. Secret identities and all that.” 

“You almost sound like you just repeat that to yourself, but you don’t believe it.” 

“I had to repeat it to myself,” he urged. “Every day. Because I so desperately wanted to be with you, to spend time with you out of the suit. I was so lonely and I thought, if there was one person I could trust with my identity, it had to be you. But I wanted to honor your wishes. I just hoped to wear you down, eventually.”

She passed her thumb over his cheek and whiskers. “I had been thinking about it, ever since I became the guardian. I wanted to keep you safe, but if something happened to Plagg and you couldn’t transform, no one would know. I’m not upset with you, Kitty. Though I wish this reveal had happened a little more...mutually.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “What are we doing?! We have a sentimonster!” 

“Aw let him fight on his own! He deserves some sort of punishment for this and I have yet to come up with a good one.” 

She chuckled. “Alright, fine. We’ll give him a few minutes and see how things are going.” 

“You’re taking this better than I expected.” 

“I’m in shock.” She chuckled, a little hysterical. “It took me so much courage to confess…and it wasn’t even to your face. That would happen to me.”

He floated out of her hand and nuzzled her face. “All that matters is that I know. We can’t be together quite yet, but the second I get my body back, I plan to make you mine.” 

“Really?”

“Absolutely, Bugbear.” 

She kissed between his ears. “Okay, My Prince. I look forward to it.” 

The ring on her finger beeped, and a paw pad faded out. 

“What was that?”

Adrien sighed with relief. “The condition has been met.”

“Condition?”

Just then, a swath of Ladybugs rushed over the city, righting whatever the Sentimonster had ruined. 

“Well, looks like he didn’t need our help after all.”

Marinette laughed slightly. “They have been doing this a long time. It probably only took them this long to get it because of travel time.” 

Adrien nodded. “So, just to clarify, you aren’t mad at me?”

“Of course not! It sounds like Plagg tricked you. Though I am mad at you for reading my diary…and watching me change!” 

“In my defense, I was not warned you were going to change.” 

“Still you could have turned around!” She blushed. 

“Sorry, Bugaboo, I guess I was just a little star struck.” 

She bopped him on the nose. “Now don’t try to flatter me to get out of being caught.” 

A yoyo wrapped around the chimney above their heads, and Misterbug made his appearance. His very jarring, ancient appearance. He wore black leggings with a red loincloth around his waist. His shirt was cropped and had billowing sleeves. The mask was just a cloth that tied around his lower face. 

“Well well well, I figured if you weren’t on the battle field, you were busy having a lover’s quarrel.” He smirked, the smile only creasing his eyes. 

Marinette looked to Plagg. “Dearest Sunshine, do you mind terribly if I abuse your body?”

“Be my guest.”

Marinette wound up a punch and socked Plagg right in the shoulder. 

“Ow! Hey, that actually hurt.” 

“I hope you, you monster! How could you hurt my poor, sweet, innocent Adrien!?” She cuddled him close to her cheek.

Plagg scoffed. “Puh-lease. There is nothing innocent about that boy. Spots off.” 

The pink light faded, and Adrien’s body remained. It was almost hard to look at him, even though she knew it wasn’t really Adrien. 

“Oh, now she gets all shy~!” Plagg taunted. “I should have retransformed when I landed. Maybe she wouldn’t have punched me!”

“You deserved it.” Tikki said, flatly. 

“Yeah, whatever. So? How’d it go?” 

Marinette held out the ring. “It beeped?”

“Excellent!” He took it off her finger. “Two to go!” He slipped the ring on and took off the earrings. “Now I just have to focus on Gabriel and Lila. I think Gabe’s getting ready to crack. Lila though, I might have to push a little harder.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Marinette added. “It makes me feel better that I might not have to put up with her for much longer. So I can take a little damage.” 

Adrien frowned. “Can’t I stay with Marinette a while longer?”

Plagg huffed. “I mean you could…but then you couldn’t see the absolute chaos that I planned.”

Adrien winced. “Ugh, fine. I’ll go with you.” He turned to Marinette, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Bye Bugaboo. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay Kitty. I love you!” 

Adrien’s heart nearly burst with love. “I love you too!” 

“Gross.” Plagg gagged. “Alright, time to go! Adrien, Claws Out!” 

—

Chat Plagg Noir returned to the Lahiffe residence, and swung in through Nino’s window. 

Nino for his part, was nearly dancing in panic. 

“You good, my man?”

Nino shook his head frantically. “There’s a policeman here for you! I tried to stall as long as I could, and said you were asleep and a heavy sleeper! But I think he’s about to burst down my door!”

“A policeman? What for?”

“I don’t know! He just said he had to talk to you!” 

“Claws in.” Plagg walked over to the door, and exited, pensively watching the uniformed man in the living room. 

“Did you have a nice nap?” The man asked, arms crossed. 

“I did, until I was shaken awake. Is there a problem officer?”

“Adrien Agreste, you are under arrest.”

[snelbz]

The Ranch {11}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Cassian awoke the next morning and snuck out of Nesta’s bed, careful not to wake her as he pulled on his jeans. He didn’t get far though, because as he took a step toward the door, his shirt tossed lazily over his shoulder, there was a sleepy, “Sneaking out without a goodbye?”

Cassian chuckled softly as he looked over his shoulder. “I wanted to let you sleep. Sun’s not up yet. I gotta get to workin’.”

The top sheet was the only cover left on the bed by the time they were through the night before. And it was currently draped low over Nesta’s back. She dropped her messy head back onto her pillow and mumbled what sounded like a goodbye.

He made his way back to the bed, pausing to brush her hair off her face, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“I’m not getting up until it’s a reasonable hour,” she murmured.

He chuckled softly and he said, “Sounds good. I lo-.” The words nearly tumbled from his mouth, without even meaning to. He covered it by stuttering. “I’ll, uh, go into town later and pick up the materials we ordered for the stables.”

Nesta only nodded, already half back to sleep,  not even noticing his near miss.

He watched her for another split second before hauling ass out of the little house and across the way into his own little cabin. Beau was instantly alert, staring at him with daggers in his little puppy eyes.

“Sorry, Beau,” he said, giving the pup a good rub. “I’ll come get you first next time.”

Beau quickly forgave him, jumping up to rest his paws on Cassian’s thighs.

“Let me change and let’s go check on the cattle, huh?” 

Beau hopped down and followed Cassian into the bedroom as he changed, slipped on his boots, and took Beau out into the pastures.

It was over five hours later when he noticed the front door of the main house was open, as were all the windows. It was a beautiful day and he wasn’t surprised to see that Nesta had decided to let some fresh air into the house. He made his way up to the house, going around back to rinse the mud and horse shit from his boots. The storms had made the back pasture a swampy mess and he and Beau had spent most of their morning moving half the herd into the pasture closest to the house.

He opened the back door and froze, taking in the delicious smell. Nesta was at the stove, a large pan atop one of the burners. He rested his hands on her hips and pressed a kiss to her neck. “What’s for lunch?”

She leaned into him and flipped the sandwich in the pan over. “Croque monsieur.”

“I don’t know what the hell you just said, but I love the way you said it.” He kissed down her neck until he reached her bare shoulder.

She laughed and said, “It’s basically a fancy French grilled cheese, with ham.” She turned to kiss him and wrinkled her nose. She giggled and said, “You stink.”

He raised his brows before making a show of sniffing himself. “I smell fantastic.”

“You smell awful,” she countered.

“It’s called musk,” Cassian said. “The scent of a man.”

“It’s called shit,” Nesta laughed. “The smell of cow. And horses. Mixed with sweat.”

Cassian grinned. “Well, I’d shower but that would be a waste.” His work day was far from over.

“I suppose I’ll let it slide,” she said, sighing. “At least while I feed you.”

“I’m honored,” Cassian said, laughing as he sat down at the table while Beau laid by Nesta’s feet. “You painting?”

“Yes, I was hoping to get the living room, the dining room, and the downstairs bathroom done, but I’ve been working all morning on the living room and I’ve only finished half. So.”

“Want some help?” He asked, watching as she deposited the sandwich on a plate, then pulled two more out of the oven where they’d been warming.

She shook her head as she put the other two on the plate and set it in front of him. “No, thank you. You seem to have your hands full out there as it is.” She nodded her head in the direction of the back of the property and opened the fridge. She poured sweet tea into a glass and set it down in front of him.

He looked at the food in front of him. “You made me three sandwiches and you made sweet tea?”

 “Is three too many?” She bit her lip as he took a drink of the tea.

He set his glass down. “God damn it, that’s good. Marry me.”

Nesta blinked, stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh, uncomfortably. “Okay, it’s good, but it’s not that good.”

“Agree to disagree,” Cassian said, mouth full of food.

She rolled her eyes. “Brute. Mind your manners.”

Cassian just grinned as he took another bite. “Seriously, thank you. It’s delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, sitting across from him with a sandwich of her own. “Now stop talking with your mouth full.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, still talking with his mouth full. 

She smiled and ate her own sandwich. Nesta filled Cassian in on the plans she had for the upstairs rooms. He listened quietly, eating his sandwiches and nodding in approval or made suggestions occasionally, but always swallowing his food before speaking.

After they were done eating, Cassian volunteered to do the dishes, while Nesta made her way back into the living room and continued painting. He heard her phone ring from the other room and heard a one-sided conversation between Nesta and one of her sisters.

The conversation began very normally, with Nesta answering with a simple, “Hey.”

He immediately heard an elevated voice from the other end of the phone. It sounded as if she was yelling and he quickly dried his hands off on the dish towel hanging from the cupboard before rushing into the living room.

He found Nesta leaning against the stairwell, with the phone against his ear, slowly rubbing her temples. He walked closer and could hear Feyre through the phone.

Nesta finally found a break in the conversation to say, “I was going to call you tonight, but-.”

Feyre began to speak again, and Nesta tried to speak a few times before he heard his name. Her eyes flicked up to him, just as his eyebrow rose. She hung up a moment later and Cassian asked, “Everything good?”

Nesta sighed and said, “I hope you didn’t have plans tonight, because we’re expected to be at Rita’s at seven.”

Cassian blinked. “And Feyre demanded that through yelling?”

“Apparently she had a conversation with Elain...who told her we slept together then went out on a date,” Nesta explained, looking pointedly at Cassian.

He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, uh, my bad.”

Nesta snorted. “Well, can you come tonight?”

“Depends,” he crooned. “Does this count as a second date?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, we’re all going out.”

“Then I’m busy,” he said.

She laughed, quietly. “Fine. It’s a date.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at six-forty-five.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Okay,” she smiled and turned to climb back up the ladder by the front door.

Cassian couldn’t resist the urge to smack her ass as he walked out.

Nesta was staring at her closet with a scowl on her face. Before moving back to the states, she’d sold most of her belongings. That included the bulk of her wardrobe. Now she was left with what would fit in two suitcases and a duffle bag, and after a month in town, she was starting to have to repeat clothes. She sighed and pulled out two potential outfits she hadn't worn.

One was a light pink dress with soft lace that framed her breasts. It was tight and short and honestly something Nesta never would have picked out for herself, had it not been given to her. The other was a black lace bodysuit, paired with jeans, but she wasn’t sure whether or not it was Velaris appropriate.

Who was she kidding, it was borderline obscene, but she looked damn good in it and she knew it.

She sent a short text to Cassian.

Don’t think, just answer. Black or pink.

The little dots appeared that showed he was typing back. Then they stopped. Then he sent Black.

Good answer, she thought, pulling it out of her closet and tossing it onto her bed. She curled her hair and did her makeup once she’d gotten out of the shower. It was weird to think she was more nervous for tonight than she was the night before, on their first date. This time, it wasn’t just the two of them. Now, they were going out with her sisters, with his friends. Tonight seemed more...official.

And it freaked her the fuck out.

She had just finished zipping her boot up when she heard a knock at her door. She checked her phone, noticing that six-forty-five had snuck up on her. She grabbed her clutch off the bed and hurried to the door, swinging it open to find Cassian, holding a dozen long stemmed roses.

Nesta stilled.

He held them out toward her, smiling upon seeing her surprised look. “For you.” Then he saw her and a curse fell from his lips. “You look...fuck. How much trouble will we be in if we just don’t show up to the bar?”

“A lot,” she chuckled, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

She brought them inside and into the kitchen where she found a tall glass and filled it with water before setting the bouquet inside.

When she turned around, Cassian was right behind her, blatantly staring at her ass.

“May I help you?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, which only made her breasts pop out more.

He slowly met her gaze as he said, “Yes, please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she was taking his hand and dragging him out the front door.

Twenty minutes later, they were walking into a packed Rita’s. Nesta’s eyebrows raised. This was much different than the last time they’d been here. This was more reminiscent of the clubs she’d avoided in the big cities.

“College night,” Cassian said, voice raised so she could hear him. “VU students get a free shot with every premium beer ordered until eight-thirty.”

“That sounds horrible.” She cringed, but was thankful that was only a little over an hour away.

Cassian shrugged. “She never has to worry about her well alcohol sitting. It’s smart, actually. Come on.”

They made their way through the crowd, bumping into bodies as they moved to the music.

“Your sisters are over at the corner table,” he said, putting his lips to her ear. “Why don’t you go deal with them and I’ll get us a drink.”

She nodded and as she turned to leave, he tugged on her hand. When she looked back at him, he gently cupped her cheek and pressed him lips to hers. Then he pulled back, winked and a smacked her ass.

She rolled her eyes and made her way over to the table.

As she scooted into the booth, Feyre and Elain paused the animated conversation they were having, both having taken advantage of Feyre’s VU ID card from the year before.

Nesta’s phone vibrated and she pulled it from her clutch, holding a finger up before one of them exploded.

I’m going to enjoy taking that off tonight.

It vibrated again.

Very, very, very slowly.

And once more.

With my teeth.

She texted back, watching him across the room as his phone was in his hand. He was leaning on the bar, casually talking to Azriel, but she saw the change on his face when he read her response.

My turn to surprise you with no panties.

She watched as he blinked and took a long, slow breath. Then he was typing away and a second later she received, Tease.

She snorted and shoved her phone into her pocket before meeting the interrogating gazed of her sisters.

Nesta waited, but when neither of them spoke, she asked, “What?”

Elain and Feyre both started talking at once.

“What the fuck?” Feyre asked, “Cassian? And you didn’t tell me?”

Just as Elain said, “He called me the other day and I got way too much info from him that I should’ve got from you.”

They stopped, and Nesta stared, and then Feyre said, “Bitch.”

“Are you two done?” Nesta asked, leaning back in the booth.

Elain nodded as Feyre grinned. “Details. Hurry. I give them less than two minutes before they’re coming this way.”

Nesta pursed her lips and gave them the condensed events, starting with their conversation in the morning, spending more time than was necessary on Emerie and limited detail on the sex itself.

Feyre groaned and said, “On the couch? Really?”

Elain looked at her, sipping her beer. “Says the one who let Rhys fuck her on the kitchen table.”

Feyre almost spit out her drink.

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh as Cassian plopped onto the booth next to her, sliding a cocktail in front of her.

Elain and Feyre’s eyes slid his direction.

He paused, bottle of beer halfway to his mouth.

“Why didn’t anyone make this big of a deal when you and I had sex for the first time?” Rhysand mumbled, practically falling on top of Feyre.

“Because you made it publicly known, starting the second after it happened,” Azriel added, pulling a chair up to the end of the table. “And it got really annoying, really fast.”

Feyre laughed, patting Rhysand on the knee, and Nesta said, “Can we please change the subject?”

The six of them all fell into conversations, flowing from one to another naturally, laughing and drinking and just enjoying spending time with each other.

“Baby,” Feyre slurred, laying her head on Rhys’ shoulder. “I wan’ dance.”

“Oooh!” Elain was already trying to pull Azriel out of the booth.

“Y’all go ahead,” Rhys said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Come on, Nesta,” Elain demanded, as Azriel stayed put.

Nesta hesitated, then gazed longing at her drink. “But I haven’t-“

She was pulled out of the booth, unable to stop her laughter from sputtering out of her mouth as she fell into the middle of the dance floor with her sisters.

It had been a long time since she allowed herself to let loose, to dance. When she was younger, it had never really been her thing, but as she grew older, especially being with her sisters, it was freeing. 

The live band playing on the little stage was playing so loudly that she could feel the music thrumming throughout her body. She looked back at Cassian every once in a while. 

He was watching her, intently, with a hungry gaze. She turned, holding onto Feyre’s hand. They laughed and Feyre spun her. Her long empty drink was raised in the air and when someone took it from her, wrapping their arms around her, she settled back into the warmth of his arms.

She moved to the music, the feeling of his arms around her intoxicating, fueling the warmth of the alcohol in her veins.

Azriel was pulling Elain towards the booth, while Rhysand dramatically dipped Feyre. Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she felt the calloused hands grip her hips and grind her into himself.

Her hair was dragged back from her neck and lips nibbled on her pulse point, smooth skin dragging along her own.

She ran her hand up the back of Cassian’s head, grabbing for his long hair that she’d known he left down for her.

Only to feel close cropped hair slide across her fingers.

She stilled, only for a second, before spinning around to meet Tomas’s humored gaze.

His hands reached for her waist, once more, as Nesta asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on,” he said, above the music as she swatted his hands away. “Don’t act like you didn’t feel it when we ran into each other the other day, Nes. Dance with me. It’s just a dance.”

“I don’t want to,” she hissed, and went to move around him, but he stepped into her path.

“One dance,” he crooned, his hand grabbing hers.

But a hand had reached up to grab Tomas on the shoulder from behind him. Nesta’s eyes connected with Cassian's hardened hazel eyes, which were watching the back of Tomas’ head.

“I’m pretty sure the lady said no.” The words were almost impossible to distinguish from the music, the growl nearly as deep as the bass

“Fuck off, Nazari.” He shrugged, pulling Nesta’s body into his. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

She pushed him off. “No, thank you,” she said, trying to distance herself from him, stumbling into a table.

Cassian caught her, steadying her. He got in Tomas’ face. “Don’t fucking touch her. You lost your chance.””

A light sparked in Tomas’s eyes: recognition. “Ah, she's warming your bed now, is she?”

Cassian's jaw locked but Nesta’s eyes had narrowed. “Fuck off, Tom.”

But Tomas was looking at Cassian. “Out of all the people in the world, she found the trashiest bastard in town.”

“Leave,” Cassian ordered. His voice was low, quiet, but his shoulders were tensed.

The little smile remained on Tomas’s lips as he looked to Nesta. “When you get bored of him, my number is still the same.”

He walked away, but even as Tomas reached the door, Cassian didn’t move.

Nesta turned. “You know Tomas.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, didn’t look away from his retreating form. He only nodded.

Nesta felt her walls rebuilding. She felt the cold chill shoot up her spine. “How.”

Cassian’s eye trailed him as he left, then he glanced down at her, the disdain clear. “He’s the reason my roping career ended.” The music continued playing around them and he said, “I hate him. I don’t want you around him.”

Nesta blinked once. She could barely think. Could barely put two words together, much less tell him that she had no interest in speaking to or seeing Tomas Mandray ever again.

Instead, the single word that left her mouth was, “What?”

“I don’t want you around him,” Cassian repeated.

Nesta nearly wanted to laugh, but there was no hint of laughter in her voice as she asked, “And who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

Cassian stilled, but his lips were tight.

“Fuck you,” she spat, the anger inside of her growing until her hands began shaking at her sides. “I’m not your girlfriend. You can’t tell me what to do.”

She pushed through the crowd, reaching their table and retrieving her bag and phone, unwisely tossing back the rest of her drink. She turned and found him nearly to the table as well, but was darting down the back hall, towards that glowing red sign that would mean her escape from bodies that made her feel too hot, too close, too tight.

She burst out the door and turned, leaning her back against the brick wall across from the door, eyes closed as she swallowed as much air as she could. The alley was empty mercifully as she caught her breath, as she reminded herself that no one was forcing her to stay inside.

“What the fuck are we then.”

She hadn’t even heard him come out, wondered if he’d come out when she did. If he did, he’d let her have a moment until she didn’t look like she was going to fall apart.

“Leave me alone, Cassian,” she said, face in her hands.

“No, I want you to give me an answer,” he hissed.

She didn’t bother looking at him. “Take me home,” she whispered, exhausted.

“Well which is it?” He asked, his voice rising. “Leave you alone or take you home?”

Tears sprung in the corners of her eyes, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t take her hands away from her face.

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me-.”

“Just stop!” She yelled, her hands falling away as she turned to face him.

He froze, jaw locking.

The door opened and Elain and Azriel came out into the alley. She frantically caught Nesta’s hand and asked, “Are you okay?”

She held Cassian’s stare and blinked, looking at her sister and nodding. The silent tears that began to stream down her face rooted Cassian to where he was standing.

“Come on,” Elain said, voice soft. “Let’s go.” She began to pull Nesta away and Cassian reached out, brushing his fingers against hers.

She looked at him, and that softness he’d woken up to this morning, the light he’d gotten used to…

It was gone. And in its place was the raging storm she’d been when he’d met her.

He didn’t understand.

Wanted to, but didn’t. 

Nesta walked away with Elain and Azriel, the latter looking over his shoulder apologetically.

He stayed put for a moment, mind whirling, as he watched her walk out of the alley and disappear around the corner before tumbling back to his own truck.

He felt confused.

Pissed. Frustrated. Upset. Hurt. But mostly confused.

“Cass!”

He turned and caught Rhysand’s eyes from the door. He and Feyre hurried to his truck. She demanded, “What the fuck happened?” Cassian didn't even have time to reply before she forged on. “I looked over and found the three of you in each other’s faces. And then that fucker left and she stormed away from you?”

“He was being an ass. Then I told her I didn’t want her around Tomas and she lost her shit,” Cassian mumbled. “I don’t know. I’m going home.”

Feyre reached out and grabbed his arm as he was about to pull himself into his truck. He stopped, and when he met her eyes, he was surprised to find her eyes soft.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” she whispered, even though from the look on Rhysand’s face, he knew enough about why. “She and Tomas… He… Just don’t be too hard on her.”

He didn’t bother to mention that he wasn’t sure if she’d even speak to him.

When he got home, he found her on his porch. She still wore that damn skin tight lace, showing every delicious curve he wanted to run his tongue along.

Every curve he had run his tongue along.

He got out of the truck and made his way up the stairs, his boots thudding with each step.

She sat on the top step, a lit cigarette between her fingers.

He leaned on the railing, crossing his arms, and said, “Didn’t know you smoked.”

She put it to her lips and took a drag, the end glowing in the darkness. She blew out a stream of smoke and shrugged. “I don’t. Just a nervous habit.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He hesitated, but closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk.”

She nodded, taking another pull and stood, dropping the cigarette into a beer can that had been left on the small patio table he had. It went out with a sizzle.

“If I’ve…” he began, then stopped. He blew out a long breath before starting over. “If I’ve jumped to conclusions about what we are, I’m sorry.”

Nesta didn’t say anything, didn’t move for a moment. She stared at a spot on the deck for a moment before saying, “Nothing about tonight was about you.”

Cassian wanted to press her, but didn’t. He didn’t need to, though, because she continued.

“I didn’t realize you knew Tomas, it threw me off,” she said. “We used to date. For a long time. He was an ass. Made me feel….small. And then he cheated on me. That was almost ten years ago, and I haven’t been in a real, healthy relationship with anyone since. I don’t even know if I’ve ever had a healthy time relationship.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, contemplating just how much he should say. But this woman… this gods damned breath of fresh air that had blown into town, into his life and actually made him enjoy what he did again…

The woman that he’d fallen in love with… she deserved to know everything.

“I know.” She looked up from the deck and waited for him to continue. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment before he went on. “You may not have remembered me from school, but Cauldron, I remembered you. I had the biggest crush on you, but when I found out you were dating Tomas Mandray, the only other header in our state that gave me a run for my money? The one thorn in my fucking side who only won because daddy bought him the fastest horse he could find?” He shook his head. “I knew that we never had a chance, regardless of the fact that you didn’t even know I existed. I could have introduced myself, I could have put myself on your radar, but what good would that have done? You were still with him.” Nesta stared at him unable to say anything. “And then I saw you in Guthrie.” He looked at her, looked into her eyes, letting her see the sincerity in them. “And I saw him make you cry. I knew it was none of my business, so I didn’t say anything. Rhys told me if I did anything to fuck up our chances at a title, he’d personally cut my balls off. We roped the first night, took the average. Roped the second, came up short by point zero four seconds. Still won the average so far, but Tomas was right behind me. Then on the third, I caught him running his mouth and bragging about how he was able to keep that side piece from you for months.”

Nesta felt like she was going to be sick. She’d never been sure, but she’d always assumed he’d been cheating on her for longer than she knew.

“So I beat the shit out of him, had my membership in the USTRC revoked and was told that I’d never rope professionally again. And I haven’t. I was turned away from every rodeo I tried to enter. So I gave up.”

Nesta stared at him, completely speechless. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind but they all sounded ridiculous. All she managed was a breathless, “You…” but nothing followed.

He looked up at her then, at her wide, misty eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, then she said, “You really did beat the shit out of him.”

Nesta remembered hearing about it the next day, feeling grateful at whoever gave Tomas what he deserved.

But never in a million years would she have thought it had been Cassian.

“You didn’t deserve to be disrespected like that, whether you knew or not.” His voice was quiet, still, cold.

She breathed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He let his hands drop to his side and a frustrated chuckle left him. “What was I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, I assaulted your ex and had my dream ripped from me when it was within spitting distance?”

She didn’t say anything, knowing he was right. How would he have even brought it up, especially seeing her reaction to Tomas in the hardware store.

Her lips tightened but she said nothing. She should apologize, should try to tell him something comforting or reassuring, although that had never been a strength of hers.

Instead, she met him at the top of the stairs and laid her fingers against his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. And when he did, with eyes still half lit with anger, but dwelling with softness for her, she kissed him, softly, slowly.

He melted into the touch of her lips against his, his arms wrapping around her slender waist. 

She pulled back, and he was shaking his head. “I’m sorry I got pissed tonight,” he breathed, brows furrowed. “I acted like an ass.”

“You did,” she agreed, and the chuckle that left him slid across her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You were just trying to protect me, and I know that. You’ve apparently been doing that way longer than I’ve known.” She smiled softly and his lips turned up slightly in response, that anger diminishing with every second. “But… I can fight my own battles, Cassian. I’m a big girl and I promise I can handle myself on my own. Okay?”

He closed his eyes, sighed and nodded. “Okay. But only if you agree to let me step in if need be. I promise,” he began, his eyes sincere. “I won’t ever overstep my boundaries if I can help it, but if I feel like something is wrong, I’ll have to handle it.”

“You’ll have to?” She whispered, amusement lacing her tone.

He nodded, slowly, eyes bright as he cupped her face. “I care about you, Nesta.”

Words escaped her as she stared up at him, as his thumbs brushed across her cheeks. 

She knew he wasn’t lying, knew he wasn’t saying it just to say it. She could see the truth of his words in his eyes, could feel it in his touch.

The thought terrified her.

But it ignited her, too, set her soul on fire, woke her up.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, pleaded, needed to taste him to know this moment, these confessions, were real.

So he did. His hand curled into her hair, the other going to her lower back, holding her against him, and his lips devoured hers in a searing kiss. It took her breath away and made her feel alive. There was so much he couldn’t say that he poured into that kiss and Nesta could feel it, could feel herself falling.

This man, this impossibly frustrating, amazing, complicated man, he had thrown her world off its axis. Had made her second guess a lot of things about her life she’d never allowed herself to.

And he cared for her, for some ridiculous reason that she was trying so hard to understand but didn’t. They were polar opposites, two people worlds apart. She didn’t care, though, didn’t care that they didn’t make sense. 

Cassian lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist in silent acceptance. He carried her inside of the little cabin, where Beau looked up from his spot on the couch before snuggling back into the cushions. 

Neither of them said a word, their lips refusing to be parted, as they entered his bedroom.

Her back gently hit the mattress as he laid her down, his body covering hers. Her hands were in his hair, framing his face, pulling at his shirt, grabbing his ass through his jeans. He was all she could feel, all she could, taste, smell, see, hear. He completely overwhelmed her senses, but gods, she loved the disorienting haze his kisses dragged her into.

She bit his bottom lip, just like she had on the football field, and he growled quietly. Pulling back, his hazel eyes found hers and they were intense and she found herself wanting to push him, to see how far she could go before he lost control.

So she leaned up, brushing her lips along his jawline. His stubble was rough, scratching against her skin in an intoxicating way, and she trailed her kisses down his throat until she found that spot where his neck met his shoulder.

The hand bracing his weight that was next to her head balled into a fist, the sheets and blankets bunching up in it. The hand on her hip tightened.

Her gentle fingers slid beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. Those teasing kisses along the base of his throat continued, sucking softly, brushing her tongue against his skin.

His eyes closed, his lips parted.

Nesta wanted to capture that moment, paint him in that light for all eternity, hardly holding on, dwelling in her touch as she worshipped him, patiently.

Her hands slid up his back, just beneath his shoulder blades as her lips trailed down between the collar of his shirt.

A shuddering breath left him and he leaned back, pulling the shirt over his head and went to lie back atop of Nesta. Instead, she pressed a palm to his chest and took a moment to look at him.

He was a fucking Adonis in human form. Her hand trailed down between his pecs, across his abdomen, over the dusting of hair beneath his belly button, and finger followed the deep groove of muscle at his hip down into the jeans that were becoming impossibly tighter with every touch.

She looked up at him through her lashes, and dragged that finger along the waistband of his jeans, finding the button and playing with it before she popped it loose.

He watched, lips pressed together. Nesta swore he held his breath as she pulled down his zipper and pushed his jeans down past his hips. Cassian’s body finally shook with a deep breath as he pushed himself off the bed and onto the floor. Nesta rolled onto her side and silently watched as he kicked off his boots and pushed his jeans onto the wooden floorboards, but when he took a step back toward the bed she shook her head, eyes bright as they admired him.

She scooted herself to the side of the mattress before pulling herself up into sitting position, her long legs draped over the sides. She reached down to unzip one of her boots and toss it to the side, then the other, and she stood in front of him before trailing her fingers down his body, once more. 

He was beautiful.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” His voice was rough. His fingers found her chin and when he grazed his thumb across her lips, she pressed the softest of kisses to it. When she heard his breath hitch, she pulled it into her mouth and sucked lightly, letting her tongue swirl around it. She looked up at Cassian, into his eyes, and she swore she was going to combust from the look he was giving her.

He removed his thumb, and though there was a ferocity in his eyes, he gently took her face in both of his hands and kissed her softly.

He pulled back and whispered, “Nesta, I-. Fuck…” His words trailed off as he kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. He pulled away abruptly, leaving Nesta breathless. He spoke in a rush, almost as if he knew that if he didn’t speak now, he wouldn’t speak at all. “Fuck, Nesta, I think I love you. And I know that’s insane, but you’re all that I think about. You’re the only thing I want, and I just-.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I had to tell you. I’m falling for you, harder and harder every day.”

Feeling breathless, her forehead fell against his chest. She closed her eyes, terrified of the next words to come out of her mouth. “I feel the same.” And she looked up at him, then, through her long lashes. “I love you, too.”

Four words, barely audible, even in the silence of the cabin. But the look in his eyes at those words was something so vulnerable and raw, with a hint of something almost like surprise, that Nesta could hardly breathe. 

She wanted to tell him not to hurt her, not to break her heart, not to make her regret those words. But as he took that little step closer to her, closing what was left of the distance between them, she knew he wouldn’t.

He didn’t need to tell her, because he would show her.

A hand reached around and found the small zipper at the back of her neck, and he slowly pulled it down. His finger skimmed along her skin as he dragged it along her spine and a chill ran through Nesta. He undid the button of her jeans and Nesta held her breath, unsure of why she felt so nervous. Cassian began to work her jeans down, but when they wouldn’t budge past her hips, he cleared his throat. “I imagined this being much more smooth, but, uhm, I can’t get your pants off.”

Nesta laughed, quietly, as she shimmied herself out of her tight jeans. He watched as she pulled herself out of her lace bodysuit, until she was bare before him. 

“Told you, no panties,” she whispered, and his answering grin had her toes curling.

“And I told you I wanted to take that off with my teeth…”

She smoothly replied, “Next time.” Cassian smirked.

With no warning, he picked her up and tossed her onto his bed, following suit and crawling up her body, pausing to taunt, tease and taste. He stopped at her breasts, unable to resist any longer as he took a peaked nipple between his lips, his fingers finding the other and rolling into slowly.

Nesta began to writhe, gripping his hair and tugging on the loose strands. The whimpers and moans falling from her lips were too much and he fisted his cock, stroking in time with the roll of his fingers. 

Her legs were wrapping up around his waist, and she pulled his body into hers. She had to be closer to him, the distance seemed too great, too far, after the words they’d spoken.

“Cassian.” She whispered his name, breathed it into the night. He looked up at her, his lips falling away from her nipple, and saw the desperate beckoning look in her eyes. He climbed up her body, covering hers with his. He moved the stray hairs from her face before taking her wrists gently into his hands and moving her arms above her head, his fingers slowly intertwining into hers.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his hardened cock pressed up between her folds. 

Her eyes remained locked with his as her fingers tightened in his own. “Make love to me, Cass,” she breathed.

His lips parted and a slow, shaky breath left his mouth, warming her own.

He slowly, torturously slowly, pushed into her, pausing when he was fully seated inside. The overwhelming fullness had Nesta breathing heavily, her chest heaving, and Cassian leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her lips. “Are you okay?” The question was no louder than a whisper, but Nesta nodded, eyes still closed.

She’d been with a few men since Tomas all those years ago. None more than a few times, as Nesta’s schedule was too busy for more than anything but a passing fling, but she’d never been dissatisfied with the sex she’d had, never been disappointed by the size of her partner.

She was ruined now, she realized as Cassian slowly pulled out and snapped his hips back into hers, for any other cock, because none could compare to the one currently inside of her. Or the man to whom it belonged.

He continued the slow, agonizing pace until Nesta began to squirm. He leaned down and kissed her, palming her breast, and asked, “What is it, sweetheart?” He never halted his thrusts, kept driving Nesta wild with each flex of his hips.

She was whimpering and groaning and writhing, and breathed, “Touch me, please.”

He picked up his pace, just barely, as his hand fell from her breast and slowly dragged down her side. Cassian pushed himself up on his knees, then, and pulled her ass onto his lap as that steady pace inside of her continued. His thumb found her clit and he circled it, slowly, as he thrust his cock in and out, his other hand gripping her ass as a guide.

Nesta threw her head back, her body flooding with that familiar warmth, and she didn’t try to quiet the moan that he pulled from her. One hand was fisted in the sheets by her head and the other replaced his, tweaking her nipple.

“God damn, baby,” he breathed, gazing down at her. Fuck, she was so beautiful, so perfect. Her full hips that he couldn’t get enough of grabbing onto. Those parted lips that drove him wild. But gods, those breasts.

Nesta reached out and ran a hand down his chest. He caught her fingers and sucked one into his mouth as she has before, biting down lightly. Her other hand had stilled on her stomach and she watched him with lust addled eyes. He gripped the other in his hand and pinned them above her head again, lifting his hips and roughly thrusting into her again and again.

She cried out, unable to form a sentence or even his name.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, fighting his growing orgasm. He wanted to bend her over his dresser, wanted to watch himself fuck her in the mirror, but she was so tight and he was so close.

A string of curses flooded his mind as his head fell back, his eyes closed, but only for a second. Nesta’s cries grew louder and he watched as her body tensed, her pussy clenching around him, squeezing his cock. He leaned back to get the perfect view as he grabbed her ass and pulled her into him as his pace quickened.

“I’m...close,” he grunted, voice straining. She was still riding out her orgasm, unable to speak, but acknowledging him with a nod. He kept pounding into her, watching the way her breasts bounced with her every thrust until his head fell back again and he grunted out, “I’m about to come.”

He expected her to scoot back so he could come on her stomach or her tits. He wouldn’t have even been surprised if she took him into her mouth to finish him off.

He didn’t expect her to tighten her legs around him and hold him in place. He didn’t expect the frantic nod she gave him when their eyes connected, question written clear across his face. He didn’t expect the quietly whimpered, “Please,” as he thrust into her one final time before his release barreled through him, vision going white as he came harder than he ever had before.

Cassian groaned as he came, filling her up, quick, hard thrusts continuing long after her pussy had milked him for his last drop.

He fell down against her, his cock still inside of her as his sweaty, hard body covered hers. She wrapped his arms around his neck as they tried to catch their breaths. Neither of them said a word in the silence as they clung to one another..

Cassian was about to get up when Nesta breathed, “No, just…stay here, please.”

He nodded, pressing his lips to her neck. He rolled them, so she was lying on top of him, rather than the other way around, and he dragged a lazy finger up and down her back.

“Shit,” he said, letting loose a deep breath. “That was the-.”

“Best orgasm you’ve ever had?” She finished.

He nodded, head sinking deeper into his pillow as he wrapped his arms around her tighter. “You took the words out of my mouth.”

One of his hands dipped lower, cupping her ass. They laid there in a careful silence, enjoying feeling each other’s body against the other, when Cass finally said, “Don’t you need to go…clean up?” He let his hand slip lower until he could feel their mixed essences dripping out of her.

He was still inside of her and she could have sworn that she felt him harden, just the slightest.

She shook her head, nestling into his chest. “In a minute. I can’t get pregnant.”

The hand on her back stilled. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

Nesta’s body tensed as his hand froze. She slowly leaned up to meet his gaze. “Can’t.”

She waited for Cassian to say something, anything, but he didn’t. Yet the hand on her back began to move up and down her skin once more.

She laid back on his chest and closed her eyes. “I was told years ago I won’t be able to have children.”

Her voice was quiet, and for once, she found herself afraid to say it. She hadn’t ever really wanted kids, hadn’t really ever thought about settling down and starting a family.

But when she said the words to Cassian, a little bit of a heavy feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

Having a family hadn’t been in the cards for her before. If she was too busy to have a boyfriend, how was she supposed to figure out how to juggle a child and her restaurants? So when she found out at twenty-two that she would never be a mother, she didn’t even dwell on it, hadn’t given herself time to be sad about it, or think about what that really meant.

But for Cassian, the words were a blow. He’d grown up alone, in every sense of the word. Before his mother died, she was always working nights. She would be asleep when he left for school, and would have to be at work by five. He saw very little of her. Barely knew the woman who he’d laid in the ground before his thirteenth birthday.

He’d always dreamed of having a huge family, at least three kids, maybe even four. He’d even let himself imagine what their kids might look like, with his tanned complexion, and her striking eyes. But in a moment, that dream was gone.

“Please say something,” she whispered.

Cassian nodded, although she wasn’t looking at him. “Sorry. Just surprised.” He kept his voice quiet. “It’s okay.”

What else was he supposed to say? He loved her, still, and voicing his disappointment would just upset her, and what would erase all the progress that had just been made.

He turned her head to face him. She kept her eyes closed. “Look at me,” he whispered. She opened her eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek and landed on his chest. “I love you. Okay? It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Why are you crying?”

She shrugged lightly and said, “I didn’t even think I wanted children. When I found out, I was in culinary school and I didn’t have time for kids, nor did I have a good relationship with my family, so I thought it was a blessing in disguise and…” She sniffled and closed her eyes again, as another tear fell. “Now, things are different and I feel...broken.”

Cassian let out a breath as he pulled her in closer, holding her tightly against him. “It’s okay,” he repeated.

She wiped at her eyes against his chest before burying her face into his skin. 

They laid like that for hours, clinging to one another, Cassian telling her that he loved her over and over again, as if he couldn’t say it enough, as if he was afraid that she didn’t believe her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him.

It’s that she didn’t think she deserved it.

[liloelsagranger]

Night shift - Chapter 2 (Rocketshipping)

Chapter 2:

The whip already raised for use, Jessiebelle reared up in front of James, who was cowering on the floor all intimidated. “Where have you been? Do you realize how worried I was?” She swung the whip and gave James a blow. James cried out in pain, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew that this little excursion into freedom would have consequences. Today Jessiebelle carried out the punishment with her favourite tool and throttled her fiancé without batting an eye.

“You have to be chastised, otherwise you might get ideas and leave me, and we both don’t want that, right James?”

The young man was trembling with pain. He grabbed his arm with the gaping wound. Sometimes he wanted to die, sometimes he wanted to leave this world, thoughts that had plagued him since he was a child. But the urge to be free and to be able to live his own life had prevented him from doing anything stupid until then and thinking of the waitress Jessie gave him new hope. Another lash!

“Please, Jessiebelle, stop!” he pleaded. “I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll never sneak away again, but please, have mercy!” Tears streamed down his face. Jessiebelle knelt beside her fiancé and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

“This is the only way you will learn to be obedient and please your future wife. Sometimes you have to take harsher measures to open someone’s eyes to how much love is involved here. I love you, James,” she breathed into his ear. James cried bitter tears. If this is love, what does abysmal hatred feel like?

She left him crouching on the floor, alone in his pain and thick tears of despair. James was breathing heavily, he could barely move, but he had a mission and nothing and no one, certainly not Jessiebelle’s abuse would stop him. With the last of his strength, he tried to get to his feet, left the torture cellar and sank into his pillow, tired and exhausted. Tomorrow night he would see her again, Jessie. He imagined her smile, her sapphire blue eyes, and slipped into a fitful sleep.

The day dragged on endlessly. James counted the hours until he could sneak out through the service exit. When evening came, he waited for the right moment to dismiss the property. The servants covered him, they were on his side and could no longer watch this tragedy of a relationship.

“I hope the wound heals quickly, James. This tincture is a recipe from my grandmother, it is supposed to work wonders. Look how Jessiebelle is ruining you. You are a shadow of your former self.” Maria became quite emotional at the sight of those deep cuts. She had cared for James since he was a little boy every time his parents were traveling the world again. Seeing him like this, abused, beaten and mistreated, broke her heart. James put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, Maria. There’s someone worth living for,” he put on a weak smile. “And I really need to see her,” he pressed on the tourniquet and disappeared into the night.

As James walked along the Strip, he noticed the many carnies and performers. Some were painting portraits of the tourists; others were juggling ten balls at once. Others sang and played music and thrilled the guests with little show acts. It wasn’t long before James spotted Ash, who was holding the crowd spellbound with his Pikachu. He had many tricks up his sleeve and his little Pokémon was exceptionally well trained. They were a welded team and impressed the audience with a fantastic interlude consisting of various electric attacks that Pikachu was capable of. The crowd went wild, applauded and cheered. The coins were already jingling, the bills flowing. James wanted to do more than one good deed today and secretly put a hundred-Pokédollar bill in Ash’s hat. With it, he and his friends could enjoy a delicious dinner at the Diner. Ash could hardly believe his eyes when he fished the large bill out of his hat. His mouth was open, never had he received so much tip before. His gaze wandered through the audience and stuck to James.

“Hey! Aren’t you the guy who was at the Diner last night?” he asked him. James nodded his head. “Wow! What happened to your face? Where did you get that black eye?” Ash wondered. Should James tell him a tall tale or come clean with the truth? He didn’t know this boy at all and honestly, he didn’t want to hang his private life on the big bell.

“Work accident,” James replied. Ash nodded his understanding and stowed the big money in his pocket. He had no idea that his sponsor was standing right in front of him.

“Are you coming by today? Fridays are fish day, you’ll miss out on the tastiest salmon and sea food if you don’t show up later.”

That’s when it slipped out of James’ mouth. “Is Jessie having a night shift tonight?” It was so foolish, he felt pretty stupid. What kind of impression did this make on young Ash? The boy grinned maliciously.

“Jessie is at the Diner every single night, trying to keep herself and that place afloat, it takes hard work, but she’s up to any problem. So yeah, she’ll be there. Why?”

James blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh nothing, she just served me very well.” James shrugged it off, but one question still burned on his mind. “This man, who works with her at the Diner. Is that her boyfriend?” Ash laughed out loud.

“You mean Eddy? He’s ace. All he wants are close and deep friendships, but nothing more. A hug is still in, but not a step further. You don’t have to worry about him but let me give you some good advice. Give Jessie some space and don’t press her. Life wasn’t always easy for her.” Ash packed up his paraphernalia and disappeared down a dark side street.

Late in the evening, James hardly dared to show up at the Diner. He was visibly nervous and couldn’t quite explain to himself why. Of course, he was happy to see Jessie again and to enjoy her first-class service, to feel her warm smile on his skin. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to see him maltreated like that. But when he entered the restaurant, the atmosphere was really tense. He discovered the large bouquet of flowers that he had secretly sent her, but Jessie seemed to be anything but pleased about it. He approached the waitress and overheard snippets of conversation that made him shudder. Turning to Eddy, she showed her best friend the small note James had enclosed. “He’s trying to suck up again, that lousy guy! Signs it with a friggin J. Like I wouldn’t guess it’s that assface of Jack’s who’s supposedly trying to make up with me. Throw this bouquet in the trash can right now, Eddy! Get it out of my sight!” she commanded. This action had gone completely wrong. But how could James have known that Jessie’s ex-boyfriend’s name started with a J, too? He put a hand on her shoulder and Jessie immediately winced. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I didn’t see anyone enter de Diner. I’ll come right over and take your order.” She heaved a deep sigh, gave way to her anger, and kicked the trash can with all her might.

James had probably hit the wrong nerve. Now he felt all the more pathetic. He wanted to please Jessie with the bouquet and show his gratitude for the nice service, but this action was a shot in the foot.

The waitress was beside herself when she reached James’ table. Her hair was mussed, she rummaged in her apron for her tiny notebook to write down the incoming orders and could not concentrate on her guests. Something had to have happened, and James was trying to figure out how to help Jessie. It was his turn to ask her about her day. “Miserable, James. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong! But I don’t want to burden you with my stuff, I’m sure you have other things to worry about, judging by your eye…” James’ hand shot up. “I’ll get you cooling pads”, Jessie was overly attentive and James liked that feeling of being cared for by someone. There was no emotion in his relationship with Jessiebelle, except for pain and hatred. There could never be any question of love. It was an arranged engagement, and his parents didn’t care how much James suffered from Jessiebelle’s mannerisms. James wanted to offer Jessie all his attention in return, he wanted to listen to her, ask her how her day had been and talk for hours about trivial things that made him forget for a short time the strains of a botched relation.

“Here’s your coke and a turkey sandwich. Enjoy!” she forced herself to smile, but the day’s toil was gnawing away at her. James had to take the initiative. “Please, sit down for a minute. There aren’t many guests, you can certainly take a short break”, he offered her the seat next to him. She looked around, nodded wearily, and let herself sink into the chair. “What a day,” Jessie grabbed the menu card and fanned herself. He turned to her, eyeing her beautiful face, and straining to take in her every word. “Maybe you’ve already noticed, but the Strip is no place for rich snobs. Drunks and homeless people hang out here. Most of the guys who come to my Diner can’t even pay, so they charge me. Unfortunately, at the end of the month there is barely enough for the rent…and food must also be purchased. We work to the limit, staying open late to make a few Pokédollars, but it just doesn’t pay. Cassidy paid us a visit today. You remember? That broad from the newspaper? She threatened to kick us out, said she was going take the Diner away from us piece by piece. I just don’t know what to do, we barley make ends meet and we have far too few guests. What should I do? Oh, why am I talking to you, you have enough problems,” she buried her face in her hands and sighed. James stroked her cheek. He could have bought the Diner at the push of a button, but he didn’t want to be liked for his money, he wanted to be liked for who he was, the real him.

“Don’t hang your head, I could help you out after all. I don’t want a salary, a roof over my head and a warm sandwich in the evening is perfectly fine”, he smiled encouragingly at her. ‘And I can be closer to you,’ he didn’t say it out loud. She raised her head and looked at him questioningly. “What do you want in this shabby place? I’m sure you have better places to stay and besides, I really can’t pay you anything, we’re almost broke…”

James felt embarrassed. If only Jessie knew how much he wanted to escape the shackles of this terrible relationship. He wanted to be free, no matter what the cost. He wanted to have air to breathe, he wanted to laugh and have a zest for life, and that’s what he hoped to find at the Diner. With people who could show compassion, who responded to the needs of others, without batting an eye, were willing to offer a helping hand to even the most down-and-out creatures on the Strip. “You know, I have some idea about advertising and marketing. With just a piece of cardboard and my loud blabbermouth, I can double your customer base. Trust me,” he held out his hand to her and she took it. What tender, soft skin. So fragile. What have these hands had to endure? Cleaning, washing, cooking, tidying up. Such delicate hands must be protected, and James already knew how. He wished this handshake would never stop. For the first time he felt the perky waitress and it was overwhelming. A slight tug in his heart area told him where this journey would lead, and he hoped Jessie would be the destination. He had never felt so attracted to a woman before. She was different, she was a fighter that not even the worst news could wear out. For a brief moment, they looked at each other, smiling. No words were needed to describe the attraction between these two. They lost themselves in their gazes, even if it was only for a split second. Something blossomed between them, a tiny flame of hope, of forgetting and of new beginnings.

“I’m about to get out my violin and serve them a plate of spaghetti with meatballs,” Eddy murmured to one of their guests. “Yes, yes, our Jessie has sworn off love, but she seems to make a big and fat exception with James…” “Let there be fish for everyone! Let’s celebrate, my friends!” Ash rumbled into the Diner, followed by his two best mates, Misty and Brock. They immediately destroyed the intimate moment between Jessie and her new co-worker James. They both jumped up and tried to hide their blushes. Jessie cleared her throat. “Get to work, James! We don’t want to keep our guests waiting!”

[salty-fang]

Twisted fate: Sugar edition

Chapter 2-

Marinette thought she was getting better. She really did. After all, she had adjusted to Gotham’s dark atmosphere and had only cried about losing Adrien twice. Per day. For a month. She was puzzled as to how she had ended up snarfing down Rocky road ice cream whilst bookmarking photos of Adrien. Upon noticing his toothy grin, captivating eyes and playful demeanour, a wan smile fixed itself on her face.

“No. Bad Marinette!” She remembered how quick he dropped her for Gabriel’s wishes and felt the cold, clammy hands of betrayal lace themselves around her throat.

‘Tight. Too. Tight.’ Her chest constricted as she let out a choked gasp. Her hands reached to shut her desktop down. Memories, terrible memories, flashed in her eyes. She had recognised those olive-green eyes. Those eyes clouded by greed, thirst and hunger. Hunger to trample the hopes of any opposition. Hunger to humiliate her. Hunger to seize every last important thing from her.

In a flurry, photos of her and Adrien came raining down. The mirth and adoration in her eyes evaporated, replaced by pain and bloodlust. Her bluebell eyes radiated a frigid coolness as her eyes fell upon the picture of Adrien and her third anniversary. Traitor. Her doe eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. Anger rolled off of her with each picture she ripped. She had read the attacks, the taunts and jabs at her for being a ‘whore, gold-digger’ and ‘attention seeker’. She had seen Adrien’s unresponsiveness to the situation, leaving her for the hounds to devour. Coward. She’d seen pictures of Adrien and that witch frolicking as she was left to pick up the broken pieces of her heart.

An unquenchable flame raged in her heart. With every memory, the flame burned brighter until the ache for love became unbearable. She hadn’t asked to be broken. She hadn’t asked to not be good enough. She hadn’t asked to lose control of her heart like she did but it still happened.

‘We could never be satisfied,’ she thought. The dull thrum of her heart rang in her ears as silence hung in the air. She knew she was anything special but, damn it, she thought she could be enough.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding onto her sanity. A war waged in her mind as she searched blindly for anything, anything to ground her. She shouldn’t cry. He wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking her. She wouldn’t -. A sound that could only be described as pure grief ripped through her throat, slashing the air. She rocked herself hoping, wishing and praying for his return to her.

She fondly whispered “He’ll come back. He always has, the idiot.” A glint of resignation shone in her eyes before she slept, her back against the wall by the door.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Damian loved Gina. He really did. He loved her composure in the face of danger and her frankly reckless attitude. But if one more person breathed her name, he would throttle them. So, when Todd teased Alfred for his fresh attire for Gina, he silently thanked the heavens for the opportunity to release some energy. He pounced, lunging for Todd’s throat wrapping his hands loosely. Nah, who was he kidding, his hands coiled tightly around his neck.

“Demon spawn, the hell?” Jason managed to choke out. Damian relished the pink hue that had crept up Jason’s face.

“Tim-no. Richard- ack, not you either,” Bruce started, voice hesitant. “Uh Duke?” he tried fumbling about for glasses and his coffee. “Ja-"

“Don’t even think about it old man, it’s Damian, you dolt,” Jason winced as he felt the nails dig into his neck.

"Ah yes, Damian, let go of him this instant. It is Damian, right? Right?" He heard the thud of someone's body hitting the floor.

Damian knew he hadn’t lost his touch. Assassin’s blood would forever run in his blood. His family were moronic buffoons, that he knew. But, if they thought he was turning ‘soft’ then they weren’t doing much to challenge the status quo and prove him wrong. They were simpletons through and through. And though he would never admit it, he loved them for it. As Jason warned him to watch his back, he couldn’t deny the thrill, the rush of adrenaline that ran through his body. Man, he loved this family.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Marinette felt weird. She knew something was wrong. The lingering feeling had teased her subconscious for a while, now. And if the urge to constantly pee, excessive vomiting and constant fatigue was anything to go on... she was pretty certain she had an inkling as to what was happening.

All it took was that test and she had her suspicions confirmed. The two lines that appeared filled her with dread and excitement. Choosing to focus on the latter for now, she squealed, shaking and shimmying the best that she could with her heavy feet. She was PREGNANT.

Crap, she was pregnant. They hadn’t talked about children. They hadn’t talked about raising a child. Their apartment wouldn’t have enough space for all of them. They didn’t have a name. They knew nothing about childbirth. They simply weren’t ready. Worst case scenarios ran through her head. What if she wasn’t a good mom? What if Adrien left her? What if he hated their baby? Or worse, what if she hated her baby?

'Wait... they used p-p-protection. So how?’ The notion cut off her train of thoughts, turning her into a blushing mess. She could feel the heat sear through her cheeks and she could see the contrast of her freckles against her flushed face.

‘Oh no. She couldn’t tell Adrien; she couldn’t burden him like that. Not when he already had so much on his plate. She wouldn’t tell him but maybe she could hint at it. Yes, that would be the ideal course of action.’

Adrien really was the most oblivious human alive. Marinette had forgotten about that factor. Two months later and Adrien still hadn’t gotten a clue. She refused to believe he was that blissfully ignorant. She stroked her developing stomach, contemplating whether she would just tell him or surprise him with a kid. She was opting for the second option as Adrien had looked more stressed than ever, running errands for Gabriel more frequently. God, she hated that man. He constantly critiqued her for ‘not being good enough for his son. After all, she was a Baker’s daughter.’

Marinette could still remember the times when Gabriel had tried to persuade her to leave Adrien without an explanation. He’d threaten her, try to win her over with money; anything to let his son be rid of her. Marinette knew the pain of being left in the lurch. She knew the pain of wondering if it was her fault. She knew the pain of wondering where it went wrong. She wouldn’t do it to him. Not like that.

And then, he’d broken up with her. She had regretted nothing. She’d left him whole. Maybe a little damaged but not scarred. And that was most important to her. She’d regret nothing. It was the least she could do to salvage what was left of her chipped heart.

Marinette had awoken to tender kisses placed on her forehead. Her Nonna looked like a mess. She looked frazzled yet she focused her energy into calming a frantic Marinette.

“Netta, my fairy, I’m,” Marinette whimpered. She could hear the shakiness in her Gigi’s voice. She was a bad luck charm. She always caused pain for everyone. Slowly, she peered up at Gina expecting disappointment to be etched on her face. Yet her face shone with love and her eyes were filled with pity, no, guilt. “I’m so sorry. I broke our pact. I’m no better than them.”

She curled in on herself, head bowed, breaths shallow.

“I’ve hurt you Marinette, I’m a failure.” A short sharp ‘enough’ cut her off. Leaving no room for deliberation, Marinette said

“Nonna, please, if anyone’s a failure, it’s me. I mean who would want a single, unemployed pregnant woman?” Gina sat with wild eyes, jaw slack as she processed what Marinette had just said.

“Hold up, you’re PREGNANT?”

“Have been for the last three months but you know.” She shrugged. She’d processed this already but Gina hadn’t. Gina had switched from pained to bubbly in the span of a few seconds. She screamed before peppering Marinette with questions. Marinette had answered most of her questions and told her killing Agreste- which one she had been referring to was a mystery- was off the table. She’d crush him and make him beg for mercy in her own time. She told her how ‘Adrien hadn’t known’ and by the time they’d finished, it was past midnight. Gina pulled her into a bone-crushing hug before tucking her into bed.

Marinette woke up with a sore back, throbbing headache and bloodshot eyes. She noticed Gina had crashed on the floor beside her sofa. The events of what had occurred last night replayed in her mind. She really fell asleep with his picture beside her for comfort. She’d called his girlfriend a witch. How was she supposed to look him in the eyes after that? She couldn’t even look herself in the eyes. She really wasn’t looking forward to their ‘date’ today. She rose, albeit reluctantly, and stretched. With a steady hand, she applied her mascara onto her lashes. Clad in a baby blue sundress and floppy hat, she set out in a bid to meet Adrien.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Marinette had arrived late but she had not expected this. Adrien and her had been enjoying their date and she had loved her triangle sandwiches. So, when Lila sashayed over, hips swinging , her mood soured and she groaned. Loudly. Apparently, that fuelled Lila's desire as she launched into an awkward kiss, teeth clashing against Adrien’s. Adrien remained motionless as she kissed him once. Twice. He felt her bite down hard on his bottom lip. He felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He felt her tongue slip into his mouth, demanding satisfaction.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ he wondered. ‘I should be enjoying this. So, why does it feel so wrong?’

He responded on instinct, battling her tongue with his own, with an intensity he had saved for Marinette. When they pulled apart, saliva intertwined and breaths heavy, he noticed the hungry look in Lila's eyes. She seemed to forget Marinette’s presence as she moved to straddle his hips. An over exaggerated cough had Lila leaping from his lap, yelping before her eyes settled on the culprit. Marinette. Lila chose to sit beside Adrien, wrapping an arm around his tense shoulders.

“Still disgustingly fake as ever Lie-la,” she drawled. “No personality but I see you have paid for implants.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but I’d be lying. And I don’t lie,” she blinked innocently. “Now scram before things get a little steamy for your virgin eyes.” Her obnoxious voice grated on her nerves. She bit back a comeback as the urge to puke bubbled in her throat. She couldn’t stop herself as she vomited. Heavily. On Lila. At least Adrien had the sense to bound away before he got hit.

Lila was pissed. Marinette had wrecked her outfit with her sick. She couldn’t twist the situation maliciously as anyone with eyes could see Marinette was pregnant. So, in blind rage, she punched Marinette in the face.

“You deserve more, bitch.” Lila spat at Marinette. Lila had intended to punch her in the stomach when she felt a hand wrap around her fist. Marinette had growled at her and she actually felt scared. For the first time in her life, she backed down. She stalked away towards ‘her Adriboo’, who was having a hard time stifling his laughter. She pouted as she realised that her pride bruised.

“That will teach you to mess with me Lila.” Marinette levelled a glare at her before she bolted.

'Run.

Run! Don’t look back!

Just run!'

She didn’t stop until she was safely on her balcony and so, she missed Adrien intervening, Lila screaming and the stranger slinking in the shadows. She just felt so dizzy. Her insides swirled and she slumped against the balcony ledge. The hand she clamped over her mouth made the sensation worse. She threw up and from the sounds of it, she had hit someone.

‘I have to stop puking on people,’ she thought as she heard the cry of indignation from below. ‘Poor sap.’ Slowly, she retreated back into the hotel room to get some rest before she met the people who made her grandma so happy.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Damian was having a horrible day. First, Grayson had chosen him as the latest victim of his matchmaking attempts. Sitting in a cat themed coffee shop, he had listened to an attention seeking gold digger ramble on about herself for an hour and a half. Did she not get tired of her own voice? He knew he had, for certain. He was ready to curse Grayson’s awful choice in people again when something piqued his interest. A harlot was engaged in battle with an angel. And from the look of discomfort on the harpy’s face, the blue-eyed beauty was winning.

He knew he shouldn’t have followed her when she left but he felt a strong pull towards her. He knew she felt sick but he hadn’t expected her to puke on him. Granted, he was hiding and the balcony was pretty low... but still. He screeched in disgust as his suit and hair were covered in what looked like bird shit. It smelt like it too. So yeah, pretty horrible day. At the very least, he could look forward to Gina coming to the mansion later today. She’d cheer him up. He just knew it.

Damian was annoyed. Gina was late. Very late. And he’d been waiting for hours for her to arrive. When was she going to get here? A soft rap on the door sent him flying out of his seat as he scrambled to unlock the door. He’d expected Gina but on their doorstep was that angel from earlier.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Go check out the salt version @loveswifi

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