#really how many times I had to hold back my ugly snorts of laughter and incredulity

[crystal-lillies]

alice takes a peek down the rabbit hole; or, what happens when I accidentally find a grifter-type news article on a subject I love

the ugly snort I made when I stumbled across a headline proclaiming that U.S. Comic Books are failing because of "wokeness" but Manga is thriving instead...

no joke, I felt like H.Bomberguy setting up a bit before a 4-hour long video essay as I found this article on my "new tab screen."

and I had to read it because my first thought, of course, was, "My dude," (the author is a man) "where the fuck have you been? Manga has ALWAYS been much more left and progressive than most mainstream U.S. comic books! You shot yourself in the foot right there!"

But, of course, I wanted to see if that point got addressed, and what else this article had to say, despite knowing that it was not meant for my eyes. The first mistake was that it claimed that manga was imported "non-woke" material within the first two paragraphs, while then much later acknowledging that what "might be called wokeness" exists in manga, particularly in LGBT relationships, even citing the outcry when the Sailor Moon dub censored the ships baked into the text of the story.

Yet...the issue is that U.S. comic books that have been behind in the representation department on many intersectional departments are now working to introduce more of these elements, such as Riri Williams taking over for Tony Stark as Ironheart when Iron Man is no longer around, or that Luke Fox exists in the Batfamily...with all of the other Batfamily around...or that Carol Danvers isn't as much of a fucking sexy fantasy doll than she was made out to be before.

Put a pin in that.

Another point brought up is how at "one time," comic book shops catered to a specific, niche group of people (a mostly male-dominated, juvenile-seeming group) and certain fandoms' toxic behavior soured the image in the public's eye...but NOW the stigma has LONG been GONE! ...I'd need a citation for that, my dude. (there wasn't one)

despite how many people go to Comic Cons around the world, being a comic book geek is still an oft-ridiculed and niche thing (as is the same for manga and anime, but it's a lot easier to find manga in my local Target than most superhero comics). and while some kind comic book shops do go out of their way cater to everyone, as someone who is Not Male and Not Always "Stereotypically Geek"-Presenting, I've had my fair share of judgement for my presence in those spaces.

Now coming back to the pin...making U.S. comic books and superhero stories more aligned with a wider, more diverse, "woke" audience, just like the massively successful imported (supposedly "non-woke") manga have been doing for many years...that's the real problem as to why comic sales are seemingly doing badly, according to you, sir? Not anything to do with the fact that translated manga is at a better price point for the value page-count and quality-wise, which you cited, or the fact it is more widely available to general intersectional audiences, which you ALSO cited?

The cognitive dissonance gymnastics is really something to behold. Sometimes, you really have to see it for yourself, and wonder how these writers are missing the point they're unintentionally making.

But, of course, I'm far from the intended audience that already agrees with the blind defensive ragebait.

and I do feel like H.Bomberguy now after having brought my head out of the rabbit hole.

if I wasn't so averse and terrified of putting more of myself out on the internet...I could see how easy it would be to go insane and make a 4-hour long video essay.

[mt-musings]

To Inherit the Night - 14

“Sit still, Magpie, or I’m going to send you up Topside with half a face of makeup.”

“You’re poking my eye,” she retorted, squirming away from his eyeliner brush. He grabbed her jaw to hold her still.

“Suck it up. Beauty is pain.”

“That’s bullshit. I’d be the prettiest person in Fodlan if that was true.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You are pretty.”

“Pretty fucking ugly.”

“Do you want me to finish you makeup or do you want to have a pity fest? It’s one or the other,” he asked, brow raised. She slunk down in her chair, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“Makeup. Please.”

“Ahh, so you do have manners.”

“No thanks to you.”

He laughed at that, eyes glimmering with mischief. It was no secret that she’d inherited his foul mouth and rapid-fire retorts. She had enough sense most of the time to keep it in Topside, but everyone in Abyss knew to be wary of her tongue.

“I still don’t know why you’re putting in so much effort. It’s lame, as far as balls go.”

“But I’ve never been to one. And everyone else is going to be dressed up and there’s going to be dancing and champagne and—I don’t know. They always sound fun in stories.”

He tried to hide his grin, shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re adorable.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. Are you going to dance with your Prince Charming tonight?”

“Fuck off.”

“Planning on meeting someone in the Goddess Tower?”

“Planning on cutting holes in your socks.”

Yuri snorted, pinning a stray piece of hair back. He took a step back to admire his work. Her hair streamed down her back in perfect waves, half pulled back into braids that encircled her head like a crown. The white didn’t look so stark with the lilac ends woven through, bringing out color in her face. He hadn’t done much in the way of makeup. She didn’t need it, despite what she thought. He’d merely disguised the scars on her cheek as much as he could and emphasized her eyes with a little eye liner and mascara and the smallest amount of shimmer. 

“Do I look stupid?”

“Do you think I would make you look stupid?”

“If you thought it was funny.”

“You don’t look stupid. I, as usual, am a genius. Go on, check in the mirror.”

He watched her expression as she took a deep breath, steadying herself before turning to look at the small mirror on his vanity. He watched as she gasped, turning to stare at how faint her scar had become, almost invisible but for the slight divot of the old wound, at how large and thick-lashed her eyes were. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes welling with tears.

“Don’t go crying off all my hard work.”

“You—I—Yuri!” She stammered incoherently, nearly tumbling from her chair in her haste to throw her arms around him in a hug. He returned it easily, not bothering to hold back his laughter.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Magpie. It’s just a little makeup, I’ve been offering to teach you  for forever.”

“You made me pretty,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Made—Cella, do you really hate your scars that much?”

She didn’t answer, just hugged him harder. He sighed, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head. He’d have picked her up her own cosmetics long ago if he’d known seeing herself unscarred would bring her to happy tears. She’d always seemed so indifferent to fashion, to her appearance, he’d simply thought she wasn’t bothered by it. She’d always been more concerned with snooping about, with reading as many books as she could get her hands on, with tinkering and causing problems for a laugh. 

She glanced up at him, eyes still shining, grin cemented to her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You’re tolerable.”

She scrunched up her nose at that, smile widening. She stepped back and did a little twirl in her altered skirt, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. 

It wasn’t often that Yuri felt like he was truly a good big brother. He ran a gang after all, a gang he’d allowed Cecily to become and integral part of. Sometimes he forgot she was barely sixteen, that she was supposed to still be more of a kid than not. But watching her beam at herself as she did a happy little bounce of a dance made him feel like the best brother in the world. 

Blood or not, she’d always be his kid sister, and he’d always do anything it took to do right by her. 

~~~

Yuri had been right—the ball was terribly dull. 

He’d never been one for such occasions to begin with, but with so little to gain by mingling with his fellow students—it was practically intolerable. 

Or it would have been, if Cecily hadn’t been having so much fun.

She’d spent the whole evening dancing, with hardly a break since they’d arrived. He hadn’t the faintest idea where she’d learned—maybe she’d asked Dorothea for lessons. She always went to her for help with classwork. 

He’d never seen her smile so much, or laugh. She practically glowed, brimming with joy. It was like watching who she might have been, had she never been kidnapped and tortured, who she would have been had she never gotten mixed up in petty noble disputes. 

“Kid’s having a good night.”

Yuri glanced over to find Balthus drop into a seat next to him, propping his boots on the table.

“Looks like it.”

“She’s about the only one. Constance and Hapi already left. What say we follow and continue the night with some proper drinks down at the Wilting Rose?”

“I dunno. Maybe in a bit.”

Balthus followed Yuri’s eye line to where Cecily was dancing with Claude, laughing at something he was whispering in her ear. Balthus laughed, shaking his head.

“You hanging around to scare off any over-eager suitors?”

“Why would I do that? She can take care of herself.”

“I’m not buying that, pal. Worried someone’s going to whisk her off to the Goddess Tower?”

“Terrified,” he retorted, the word dripping with sarcasm. 

“Alright then, why stay? You hate these things.”

Yuri just shrugged. “I like seeing her happy.”

“She does look young when she smiles like that. She looks so serious all the time I forget she’s practically a baby.”

“You’re just old.”

“You’re not wrong, especially in this crowd,” he laughed. “Two more songs and you’re coming for a drink with me. You gotta let Little Birdie fly on her own someday.”

“Balthus—“

“Come on! What’s the worst that can happen? It’s a church ball. So she makes out with some kid in the back gardens, it’s a right of passage.”

“This is not a conversation I want to be having.”

“Then you should just agree.”

“I’m not—“

“Hey!” Cecily said, beaming. She came to a halt right in front of the pair of them, beaming, cheeks flushed from dancing. 

“Oh, great timing. We’re heading out,” Balthus said, grinning as he glanced sidelong at Yuri. Cecily’s face fell, though she quickly replaced it with a well-practiced smile that never quite met her eyes. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll just go say bye to Thea.”

“No, no, no—Yuri and I are leaving. You stay and have fun. Besides, you can’t leave your first ball early, it’s bad luck.”

Her eyes flicked to Yuri, never quite believing Balthus at his word when he used that tone. He sighed, giving her a crooked smile.

“Go have fun. I have to get this geezer back home.”

“Hey!”

“Let me know when you get back, okay? I’ll be up.”

“Okay!” She said and grinned, giving both of them a quick hug before darting back towards Dorothea and a handful of the other Black Eagles lingering on the edge of the dance floor.

“See? No harm no foul. She’ll be fine! Come on.”

Yuri grudgingly followed Balthus from the hall, glancing back to find Cecily back on the dance floor being twirled around by Hubert, who’s usual grim demeanor was replaced with something softer, something almost like a smile. He turned on his heel, ready to abandon Balthus in favor of ensuring it was their last dance of the night together, but Balthus grabbed him by the collar and practically dragged him out. 

“Leave her alone, she’s a good kid, she deserves some fun.”

“You look…very nice tonight,” Hubert said, the words careful and measured. He was wrong, of course—his assessment was severely lacking. She looked particularly beautiful—she’d done something to cover her scars, sure, but it was more in the way that her eyes glimmered with excitement, the soft way her hair had been braided back from her face. 

She beamed back at him. 

“Yuri did it for me. You look really nice too.”

He ignored the faint heat that rose in his cheeks at her words, her smile. Had he seen her smile, really smile, before? Never this much, he was sure.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be so fond of balls.”

“It’s my first one. I’d read about them, of course, but they’re much more fun in person!”

“If you like dancing.”

“Well, that’s the best part! Don’t you think?” 

Never in his right mind had Hubert ever enjoyed balls, or fancy parties, least of all dancing—especially the stuffy Court kind. But as he swayed with Cecily in his arms he didn’t think it could be all that bad, not if it made her smile like that. 

“I—Yes. I daresay it is.”

She rewarded him with her biggest smile yet. “I wish we had more than just the one here at the monastery. I’d like to do it again.”

“There will always be more balls. Goddess knows the Season is bursting with them.”

“The Season?”

“The social Season, when all the balls and parties are set. There’s scarcely a weekend without one.”

“Oh, how lovely,” she replied, though he could see her smile slip, just a bit. It was an idiot thing to say—of course she didn’t know what the Season was, or how commonplace, really, balls such as this were. He’d wondered why she’d scarcely stopped dancing for ten minutes the whole night, why she’d said yes to everyone who had asked her, even those she didn’t particularly get on with, why she hadn’t followed her fellow Housemates back to their quarters. 

For her there would be no more balls, no more nights of dancing and laughter, of idle banter and string quartets. 

“If you ever find yourself in Enbarr during the summer I would ask you consider accompanying me to one. I could use an accomplished dance partner.”

She giggled, not in the cruel sort of way he’d grown used to girls laughing at him, but in the way that bubbled up with harmless mischief. “I’m afraid you might have to look elsewhere then. Dorothea only started teaching me two weeks ago.”

“I never would have guessed. You’re a wonderful dancer.”

“Perhaps I merely got all my toe-stepping out of the way earlier in the night.”

“Oh?” He asked, amusement creeping into his voice as he raised an eyebrow. She giggled again, the sound as sweet and bright as bells.

“I might have stepped on Lorenz’s toes. On purpose. Because he said I could be mistaken for having a noble air about me when I was dancing, and I couldn’t have that.”

Hubert surprised himself by letting out a genuine bark of laughter. She fought her own smile, though her eyes shone with it. 

She opened her mouth to say something else but the song ended and she shut it again, the mirth once more slipping from her face in favor of a practiced smile, shoulders drooping ever so slightly as she took a step back into a shallow, unbalanced curtsey. 

“Thank you very much for the dance, Hubert.”

He tumbled out the words before he had a chance to reconsider. “Would it be presumptuous of me to ask for another?”

Her eyes went wide for a moment before she gave him the sweetest, almost shy smile. She answered with mock seriousness, the glimmer of mischief returned. 

“Oh, most certainly, but I daresay I could forgive it.”

He smiled back without thinking. “Then I am ever so lucky,” he said, offering her his hand once more. She took it with the same hint of shyness she’d shown at his request, though it was without hesitation—they easily fell back into rhythm, Hubert depending on over a decade of practice while Cecily followed his lead as if it were as easy as breathing. He wondered, idly, when she’d found the time to practice so diligently with Dorothea—he still wasn’t quite sure how she found time to sleep between her late nights studying and her work with Yuri. 

He wished then, that his offer to take her to another ball, to have an excuse to spend an entire night at her side, with her in his arms, hadn’t been a functionally empty one. He’d meant it when he’d said it, meant every word—but the world would be a very different place in a few months, and Enbarr wouldn’t be hosting any balls any time soon. He quite doubted there would be many throughout Fodlan in the next few years, at least until Lady Edelgard was able to unite the continent under a new, Crestless society. 

Until then there wasn’t time enough to spare for such frivolity, for such pointless, selfish desires. He could simply allow himself these few moments, moments he—

“Are you alright, Hubert?”

“Of course. I apologize, I simply got lost in thought.”

She searched his face for a moment, her own unreadable. “It can be a treacherous endeavor.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Indeed.”

“Hubert?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what.”

“Being kind to me. Even when I know it’s been burdensome.”

He shook his head. “It’s never burdensome. I promise.”

She smiled at him as the song ended, letting the silence ring out a second before stepping out of his hold. 

“Thank you for the dances. I hope the rest of the night treats you well.”

“Are you retiring for the night?” He asked, hating the edge of disappointment that laced his words. 

She huffed a laugh, ducking her face to hide her blush. “Well, three dances and people would talk.”

“I didn’t know that you cared about what people thought.”

“I don’t,” she said, something sad creeping onto her face. “But you have to. Goodnight, Hubert.”

“Cecily—“ he called after her but she didn’t turn, disappearing from the ballroom without a second glance.  

~~~

Hubert surveyed the ring, the sick feeling in his chest rising. It was objectively perfect—a delicate platinum band with a large, marquis-cut center stone of shimmering alexandrite, flanked by a spray of smaller ebony stones on either side. The center stone alone had cost an exorbitant amount, but it resembled the peculiarity of her eyes so well that he hadn’t blinked. 

He thought of how under different circumstances he’d be nearly giddy at the thought of giving it to her. How he would have sat and prepared an entire speech, taken her to the rose garden, away from prying eyes, declared to her his ardor and devotion. 

He wondered if she might have liked it, had it not been a shackle. He’d never seen her wear any jewelry other than the silver cuff on her ear engraved with a band of foxglove. 

He sighed as he set the ring back in the box. He’d have to give it to her tonight—he wouldn’t be allowed to see her before the ceremony tomorrow, some sort of idiot custom he was supposed to adhere to. 

He stood stiffly before he could lose has nerve and strode to Cecily’s apartments, nodding at the guard at the door before stepping inside. She was sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, chin propped up on them as she stared blankly at the flickering shadows on the hearth. She didn’t look up or greet him, though her grip tightened as if it were enough to protect her. 

“I thought you should have this before tomorrow,” he said, though he didn’t move to hand her the box. It was another moment before she turned her head to look up at him and it was then that he could see her red-rimmed eyes. 

She’d been crying. 

His heart twisted painfully in his chest at the realization, but he shoved it down. She might have been crying, but her cheeks weren’t as hollow, her bones no longer as sharp under her skin. She was still too thin, but not in the utterly unhealthy way she’d been when she arrived. She was at least better taken care of in the palace, no longer starved and bruised. 

He hesitated a moment before sitting next to her on the floor, ignoring the childish indignity of it. He watched her brows furrow in confusion, all the more so when he pulled out the little leather box.

He handed it to her without preamble or explanation, choosing to watch the flames, rather than her face. She didn’t say anything for a long time, long enough that he thought she might not say anything at all.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s for you. I should have given it to you at the start of our engagement, but I admit that I hadn’t yet gotten it.”

She stared at it for a long moment, absently tracing the stone. Then she handed it back to him.

“I do not need a ring, Hubert, nor am I suited for one such as this.”

“It’s a gift, and it was made specifically to suit your features. You will be the Marquess Vestra tomorrow, and will need things befitting such.”

She didn’t say anything, but he watched as she wrung her hands, as she traced the scars that dotted her knuckles, that cut across the backs of her palms. Scars from fighting, from training and surviving. He thought of his own hands, less scarred, though discolored from years of black magic overuse. She’d never seen him without his gloves, no one had, save Edelgard, but she would, tomorrow. She’d have to, to slip his own black band onto his finger. 

Surely, if the faint silver scars on her own disgusted her, his hands would prove a horror. 

He pulled the ring from the box and reached for her hand, pausing just shy of taking it. 

“May I?” he asked, half expecting her to get up and lock herself in the bedroom, as she was prone to do the moment she became utterly sick of him. Instead she stared at his hand for a long moment before placing her own trembling one lightly in his. He was struck by how small it looked in comparison, how something so unassuming could cause such destruction, should she desire it. He slipped the ring on her finger, glad, at least, that he’d gotten the sizing right. He hated the involuntary rush of warmth at seeing it there, knew it had perhaps more to do with the connotation of such a piece than with his satisfaction with the design. 

She didn’t pull her hand from his right away as he’d expected, her face unreadable as she stared at it. He wondered if she’d momentarily forgotten her hand was still in his, though he’d be hard pressed to remind her, not when he could revel in the warmth of her touch for just a little longer. He was surprised by the urge to press his lips to her knuckles, the sweet gesture so absolutely out of character for him. 

She pulled her hand back gently, wrapping her arms back around her knees. He couldn’t help but glance at where it glinted in the firelight. 

“There is to be dancing tomorrow. I remember—I remember how you enjoyed it, at the Academy. I did—I did promise you another dance, in Enbarr.”

He didn’t know why he said it, why he brought up what had been such a happy memory. Maybe he just wanted to fill the silence. Maybe—maybe he wanted her to know that he still held her in the same regard, even now. Maybe he wanted her to know that he still remembered, that it hadn’t been an empty promise. 

He watched in horror as her face crumpled and she let out a choked sob. She buried her face in her lap, her breath coming too fast, her shoulders shaking with ragged tears. He sat frozen, unsure of what to do. He wasn’t the most comforting person at the best of times but he was worried now that he’d only make it worse. 

He had a strange, foreign compulsion to pull her into his arms and hold her, but he didn’t, instead forcing himself to stand. He poured her a glass of water and set it carefully next to her before taking one of the blankets off the couch and wrapping it around her shoulders. He didn’t want to leave her side, not while she was crying, but seeing as he was the cause he backed up towards the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“I—I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry, Cecily.”

She didn’t respond. He wasn’t even sure she’d heard him, through her tears. He lingered another moment before forcing himself to go, walking quickly to his own chambers to wallow in his own misery. 

~~~

Cecily sat on the roof of the ballroom, watching the light from the windows dance across the gardens. She’d cloaked herself in shadow so no one would be able to see her.

She knew she should just go back to Abyss. Yuri said that he’d be waiting up for her, something she’d most definitely want to avoid, especially coming back red-eyed with all the makeup he’d so carefully applied wiped off on her sleeve. 

It was her own fault, for being stupid. She’d forgotten that she was just a little Abyssian rat, just another orphaned urchin who’d gotten good enough at stealing and eavesdropping to keep herself in coin. 

Hubert would be a Marquis. He was the closest confidant of the next Emperor of Adrestia. He’d probably attended enough balls that the thought alone of this one had bored him stupid, meanwhile she’d made a fool of herself telling him she’d read about them in story books. 

She shouldn’t have come. She’d never belong to that world, never fit in the way Yuri so effortlessly could. 

It had been fun though, to pretend, just for a few hours. To laugh and talk and dance—by the Goddess she loved dancing. It left her giddy and breathless and she couldn’t think of anything that had made her so happy.

Unless it had been dancing with Hubert.

That had felt so utterly different, like she’d been floating, like it was just the two of them instead of a crowded hall full of their peers. And he’d smiled, and the softness of the expression suited him perhaps more than that devious smile that she favored, a smile that always meant something was about to get interesting. 

But he was the son of a Marquis and she—

She had never even met her father. He’d been some sort of scholar, back in Sreng, or whatever passed for a scholar there. He’d been learned enough try to kill her the moment he’d seen her eyes. 

If she was lucky she’d return the favor. 

Because that’s what she was—a murderous little monster with a penchant for spying and ruining other people’s plans. 

She swiped at a tear running down her face, hating herself for being so stupid, for forgetting her place. She was nothing more than a plaything to these noble brats, would never be anything more than a plaything when it came down to it. After all, she wasn’t pretty, like Dorothea, or scholarly, like Linhardt, or a fierce and tenacious fighter, like Petra. She wasn’t inventive like Constance, or strong like Balthus, or brave, like Hapi, or even half as wily and charming as Yuri. 

She was still just a silly little girl, a silly girl who still believed there was truth in story books. 

She leaned back on the roof, looking up at the stars. Yuri had always told her that heartstrings were what they tired the noose with, that they were made him so very good at what he did. He could make anyone fall for him, pour riches into his hands in the hopes that it would win them his heart. But it was a game—he’d always told her it was a game as long as you weren’t stupid enough to let anyone close enough to take yours. 

And she’d been particularly stupid—of all the people at the Academy she’d let herself fall for not only a noble, but for Hubert, who loved nothing and no one but her Majesty, Lady Edelgard. Who was perhaps even more rigid in his adherence to his noble duty than Ferdinand, but had the good sense to mostly shut up about it. 

He was kind to her and she was useful. 

Because she was useful. And that’s all they’d ever be. All she’d ever be.

Useful.

She didn’t bother wiping the fresh wave of tears, she knew they’d only just be replaced. 

She knew Yuri loved her, beyond her use, had loved her before he’d known, when it was only a burden to him. But beyond that—she’d been enveloped into the Ashen Wolves because of Yuri, rather than anything she had to offer. Balthus looked out for her because Yuri’s asked, Hapi would share a meal with her if they were both around, and Constance—Cecily knew Constance had a good heart buried beneath all that pompousness and inbreeding, but she still hadn’t gotten over the time she’d tried to bully her into being a test subject for one of her experiments and she’d had one of the worst panic attacks of her life.

And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Hubert had smiled at her, how it had felt to have his hand on her waist, to hear him laugh, really laugh. The way he’d look at her when they studied together in the library with the same softened brow, how he’d help her even though it served no benefit to him. 

Or maybe it did and she was just dense. 

She scrubbed at her face until it felt like she’d wiped off the last of the makeup—she’d been stupid to ask Yuri to do it for her. She wouldn’t have, if she’d known just how much nicer some people would have been just because they couldn’t see her scars. 

If she’d known she’d have gotten a tiny taste of what her life might have been like if she’d been pretty. 

Surely, she’d have been insufferable, not a door unopened to her. 

It would have been nice.

Next

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[collisiondiscourse]

say amen (bkdk drabble)

(a little drabble based off of one of my favorite posts that ive ever made)

Katsuki’s not a religious man.

Yeah, okay, he believes in deities and goes to temples, the blond will admit that much. The existence of a higher power isn’t really that far from the realms of possibility when he regularly interacts with people who have the head of a bird or engines for legs. He celebrates the holidays, and on days where he’s feeling especially magnanimous, Katsuki even buys temple charms and sends out a quick prayer to whoever might be listening.

But he isn’t religious.

He doesn’t like feeling like he’s indebted to someone. That somehow, somewhere, there is someone Katsuki should be grateful to for giving him all his successes. He worked hard to get where he is now all by himself, thank you very much. The idea that everything is somehow predetermined or controlled by someone he can’t even see is one that makes the blond break out into hives.

A man with any dignity such as Katsuki’s is too proud to kneel to any god.

But then again… Izuku Midoriya is no such god.

He’s very much human, Katsuki would believe despite the seemingly endless strength his short and stocky figure possesses. He’s freckles and sunburns and scars and toothy smiles and everything that used to make the blond’s blood boil. Deku can’t dress himself nicely to save his life and sings All Might show tunes in the shower when he thinks no one can hear. Katsuki’s seen the boy throw up on his dumb red shoes and laugh so hard he scared himself with his own snorts.

He’s seen Deku at his worst. Crying and crumbling, body all bloodied and torn up after giving it his all. He’s seen him angry--borderline murderous even--with rage consuming him and leaving him gasping for breath as he saddles closer and closer to the line betwean life and death. He’s seen Deku broken and hollow, unable to eat for days and smelling like a decomposing corpse because the demons in his eyes had all but haunted him from even getting up to shower.

The point being, Katsuki knows that Izuku Midoriya is flawed.

He should, at least. Having seen these cracks and imperfections over and over should’ve cemented the idea that Deku was far from perfect. He sees sides of Deku that even their best friends, let alone the public have never seen. Bakugou knows that Izuku Midoriya is not a God--and is in fact very far from one.

But fuck if he doesn’t worship him like he is.

When Izuku confessed to him in their second year, Katsuki thinks that he learned what it feels like to die.

As dramatic as it sounds, it’s true. Watching those green eyes peel away from their locked gaze on his red ones to stare nervously at the ground causes Katsuki’s heart to jump. His palms were sweaty and blood roared in his ears, deafening him from all sounds except Deku’s voice. He’d initially thought that this was it. This was Deku preparing to tell him that he couldn’t stand being his friend anymore, that no matter how much Katsuki tried to atone for himself, Deku finally realized that Katsuki would never be worthy of his love.

It built up and up until Katsuki couldn’t breathe, willpower alone keeping him from gasping for breath as he awaited Deku’s rejection. The sun set in a brilliant cast of oranges and purples, but neither boy on the rooftop could stand to appreciate it when the sights in front of them were far more important.

“Kacchan,” he blurts at last. A sliver of his pink tongue peeks out to lick at his chapped lips. Katsuki’s chest constricts with want. “I like you.”

And it’s at those three words that Katsuki truly believes in an afterlife.

His heart clenches and stops for a different reason--a different feeling entirely. The world tilts on its axis and his breaths come up short, yet Katsuki’s never been happier to have been wrong. Parts of him shrivel up. Shudder in anxiety. Embers of raw anger and determination (leftover from years of scars and charred notebooks) tell him that he’s not worthy of Deku. That Katsuki is yet to even deserve to take the hand that has been waiting for him for his whole life.

Admittedly though, Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish, selfish man.

He stares at that freckled and blushing face like it’s a reflection of the universe itself. Green eyes that mistakenly take Katsuki’s silence as rejection grow watery, and yet as Katsuki stares into the molten pool of emerald and moss, he thinks he may see his entire life in those pretty eyes.

“...Kacchan? It’s okay if you don’t, uh, like me back. I u-understand if you feel uncomfortable or no longer want me be your friend even if it kinda s--”

“W-well really, it’s more of love. I... love you. Like, a lot. Have for a while I mean and I tried really hard to hide it but I’m sure it was obvious from the beginning and well, Uraraka said I was really bad at lying so I wasn’t really sure...” he mumbles. Stutters, because he’s human and very much not a god.

Katsuki Bakugou kisses Izuku Midoriya for the first time.

He kisses Izuku Midoriya because he wants all of him. He wants the sorrow and broken bones. The awkward laughter and nervous tics. Katsuki wants those green eyes to never stop looking at him and that mouth to never stop muttering the most inane nothings. He wants the beautiful and the ugly, the victories and the losses. He wants and he wants and he wants and he wants, and now that all of it is within his reach dear god is he never letting go.

The blond pours his soul into the kiss. Mouth harsh and unyielding, ever determined to prove to anyone watching that he’d throw away his life for this boy in a heartbeat. The desperation in their kiss practically daring anyone to try and pull them apart. Katsuki wants the kiss to say everything that he, in his weak and human state, cannot even begin to phrase. That somehow a single kiss could show the other that Katsuki loves him so much it breaks him inside. It’s so good that it’s painful. It’s painful and excruciating but fucking hell if Katsuki pulls away for one moment he thinks he might actually truly die.

They’re training to be pro-heroes, so of course their pain tolerance is higher than most. They’ve been taught to fight in any environment no matter what—could probably fight five people underwater for an hour without breaking a sweat. All of those hours of training somehow still mean nothing to Katsuki in the brilliance of the storm that is Izuku Midoriya.

Because as they kiss and breathe in each other’s air, Katsuki forces himself to pull away with a gasp.

Izuku thinks he’s hurt the blond accidentally, somehow. That he’d been too rough or pushed Bakugou into it or even just took his breath away from him in the literal sense. What the green-haired hero didn’t expect was the sheer devotion in ruby eyes.

(It would’ve scared him, if it didn’t make his knees shaky and heart rate speed up in exhilaration.)

Meanwhile, Katsuki’s drowning.

He’s drowning so deep in emotions that he’d never let himself feel until now. Drowning in his insecurities and greatest desires. Drowning in emotion and vigour. Drowning in the feeling of kissing Izuku fucking Midoriya. Part of him screams in agony, protesting this weakness as it fucks with his mind and squeezes at his heart.

The rest of him lets it happen.

Bakugou pulls away, gasping for breath. It’s too much and not enough, because he loves this boy so goddamn much that it actually hurts. He’s crying, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. So undone by a single kiss that tears streak down his face while white spots appear in vision of ruby eyes. A man so weak--so overcome with emotion that he can’t help but sob at the torrent of devotion that overtakes him. His heart throbs painfully and he struggles to take gulps of air, because Katsuki doesn’t truly love many people but there’s something about Izuku Midoriya that destroys him so thoroughly.

Ever understanding, ever patient, and ever too good for his damned, hell-bound soul, Izuku holds him close. He lets Katsuki weep into his jacket and runs scarred fingers through pale blond strands as the other boy tries to stifle his sobs. He hushes him with a light kiss to his temple and listens patiently as Katsuki whimpers every variant of ‘I love you’ under the sun.

Izuku Midoriya is no such god, but Katsuki Bakugou worships him like one nonetheless.

[secondhand-trash]

Gap

A/N:  this is based on my personal experiences😌

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuuta x reader

Word count: 1195

Zenin Maki was visibly delighted when she flipped her card over to show everyone the bright red “K” printed on its corner, while everyone else in the dorm room shifted back.

You gulped down when she opened her eyes and allow her gaze to scan over each person in the little circle you had formed.

Starting from her left, every (and the very few) students of Tokyo Jujutsu Tech had gathered around under Inumaki and Panda’s request for some old fashion bonding activities. You had a feeling they had planned for this to happen the moment Inumaki pulled out a deck of poker from behind his back, pointing excitedly at the king he had picked out specifically.

“Hm...” Maki rolled her neck, tapping the card against her palm as she closed her eyes. She had a lot of... petty grudges she would like to get back at people for. To say that she was not at her best luck today would be an understatement, she was almost starting to wonder if the rest of her friends had just decided to collectively cheat against her with how many times she had been blindly picked to do whatever the king of that round commanded. 

After a lot of running circles, pocky game, and very cheesy skits that made her want to puke, she had been waiting for this moment to get her revenge.

Her smirk only grew wider and wider as she stopped at each person and you instinctively hid your card under your palm when she looked at you.

“What? It’s not like I’ll know what number you got,” she snorted, her ponytail swinging behind her as she tilted her head to her side with a sly smile.

Maki threw her card down on the floor. “3,” she gave it a tap with her index finger, her hand freezing in place as she thought of another number on top of her head, “kabedons number 5 for 30 seconds.”

She gave an ugly laugh when you frustratedly covered your face and groaned, “Maki san...”

“I really have no clue, alright?” she was still laughing and gloated, “who is 3?”

The laughter only grew when a white-sleeved arm raised up weakly, with some whistling threw in from his friends. Okkotsu’s lips were pursed into a sheepish smile, his hand pushing away his bangs that had grown out while he was away before hiding his flush behind the back of his hand.

“Get up, get up, make it quick,” Maki slapped his hand against the floor repeatedly as you begrudgingly climbed up, “(y/n) stand over there against the wall. Come on, Yuuta, bring out your courage, hurry up!”

The boy let out a whimper as Panda gave his shoulder a firm push, “Go sweep them off their feet.”

“Good luck, Okkotsu senpai!”

“Shake, shake!”

“God,” Okkotsu rubbed his neck nervously as he stood in front of you. His eyes were darting around as his face got redder and redder, an awkward smile hanging on both of your faces to hide the clear embarrassment you feeling, “I’ve never done anything like this before...”

You toyed with the hem of your sleeve as you shifted your weight between your feet, “It’s fine, me neither-”

“Are you two done yet?” Maki shouted, her body leaning out of the circle to look at you two in entertainment.

He blinked as he looked down at you, rolling his sleeves up tentatively, “Can I...?”

“Oh,” you blurted out, “yeah. Yeah, of course-”

!!

Your heart jumped together with the loud bang. The beating in your chest drowning out the noises from your speculators and there was no thought in your head other than that Okkotsu Yuuta was so freaking close to you right now. His forearm had slammed down above your head, trapping you between the wall and his chest. Your face was burning up as your eyes saw nothing but white, not knowing where to station your gaze except staring down at your feet.

Shivers ran down your arm when you felt a light brush of his knuckle under your jaw.

“Look at me,” he muttered, and your mind screamed in confusion at how this was not what you remembered him to sound like. 

It was not until you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth and lifted your head in a defeated snap that you noticed the stark contrast of your height. With his arm above your head, he was towering over you. His hair framing his face as he stared right at you. Turquoise eyes were dimmed and dark with his back blocking the light, seemingly endless in depth as he locked you in his gaze. You had to remind yourself to breathe, that you were starting to feel light-headed with his presence all around you. His shoulders were wider than you thought, and the baggy shirt he had on could not hide the firmness of his waist. 

If you did not have the guts to look up, then now you were scared to look away. The bags under his eyes added a sickly beauty to his pale skin, the slight chap of his lips only more prominent with the corners pressing down under the clench of his jaw. Your back stood straighter when you saw the bobbing of his throat from the corner of your eyes and a nerve-wracking self-consciousness rising in your chest.

Oh dear, you did not expect to be this affected.

But he was so fucking hot from this angle.

“30 seconds up!”

You were still holding your breath in when Okkotsu backed away with a heavy exhale, the familiar smile returning to his face as he pressed his palm to where his heart was.

“Wow, that was...” he chuckled, pressing the back of his hand to his neck to feel the heat on his skin as he stumbled back to his seat, “I feel so shy now....”

“You released the wolf in you,” Panda nodded approvingly as he swung a paw onto the boy’s shoulder. Okkotsu tried to whine and squirm away from the inevitable teasing but was held down by Inumaki at his other side who was grinning ear to ear under his collar.

“Senpai, are you ok?” Itadori asked when he saw that you had slowly slid down from the wall and was now crouching there with your face hidden behind your hands.

The genuine question only made your classmates holler even more, and you lifted your hand weakly at him to tell him to give you a second.

You were flaming up feverishly, the heat transferring from your face to the skin of your palm. You could hear the laughing, but you honestly could not find the energy in your brain to care about them when the adrenaline rush from what just happened earlier refused to go away.

You bury your face deeper into your palm, and let out a silent scream.

“Ahhhhh....”

”I think you broke them, Okkotsu senpai,” Fushiguro said after sparing a glance your way.

”Really? Then what should I do?”

Maki sniggered, and leaned over to collect everyone’s card before shuffling them up again, “I love this game so much.”

[whythinktoomuch]

(pt. i)  (pt. ii) 

She keeps to the darkness, keeps quiet, and keeps her distance, just the way she’s been trained to. She watches Lena, and she does it quite well. The difficult part is settling on the one thing that she should be learning from these endeavors.

Lena does a great many things throughout her day—often up before the sun, and only homeward bound long after it’s set. But after three long days of research, there’s one feature in particular that seems to warrant the most attention: a dark fleck, nestled in the pale expanse of her vulnerable throat.

When she tries to encapsulate the entirety of that observation into words at her disposal, however, all she can manage is, “Lena, not ugly.”

Lex doesn’t reply for a long while, which isn’t typical of him. But his tone isn’t unkind when he finally asks, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” She frowns, because why couldn’t that be it?

But Lex sighs, and that soft sound uproots her peace at its very core. “I wanted you to bring me a fact,” he says. “Not develop an opinion.”

“Different how?” she demands.

“Well, I need evidence.” Lex takes her hand, turning it over to reveal her palm, forever marked and marred from her most recent encounter with Kryptonite. “I need you to show me something. Something real. Otherwise, it doesn’t count. Do you understand?”

And yes, that much is definitely understandable. Even to her.

//

With much repurposed effort, she watches and waits while Lena does her work. Then she watches Lena take her leave, then waits some more.

It’s only when the top floor of the building is emptied of all people that she flies over, slipping into Lena’s office through the balcony door that’s never locked. From there, it doesn’t take long to secure what she’s looking for.

The next time Lex pays her a visit, she drops an armful of her spoils right at his feet.

“Lena likes coffee,” she announces boldly.

Lex is clearly taken aback at first, blinking and still. But then he grabs one of the many empty coffee cups now littered across the floor, and a slow smile dawns on his face. “All right then. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She grins so wide that it strains the corners of her lips.

--

“Lena is cold,” she says the next time they meet, presenting a delicate black glove for his amusement and perusal.

“Yes, well, most people are when it snows,” Lex says.

“Not me.”

“Well, you’re not exactly most people now, are you?” Lex’s pride in her is absolutely infectious, so she grins. “Of course not. You’re… exquisite.”

“Good thing?” she asks. It’s usually the first question that wells up inside of her upon hearing new words.

“A very good thing,” Lex says with a playful wink.

Over the last two weeks, Lex’s visits have dropped from often to somewhat often enough, his precious attention now divided between her and another project of his. It’s been a near impossible change for her to weather, but moments like this make it a little easier.

That is, until Lex slips the glove on.  

She watches him flex his fingers one by one, forcing the taut leather to crackle loudly in her ears, and retreats somewhere deep inside herself. She fights determinedly against the frown threatening to twist her features into something uglier.

The glove isn’t hers. It isn’t Lex’s either, but his hand fits so perfectly that it could very well be his if he wanted.

“Not actually all that warm,” Lex comments, snorting when he peeks inside the glove. “And yet, pricier than your average first class ticket to Paris… Tsk, a little superficial, if you ask me.”

She nods as appropriate, but most of her concern is still with the glove and how Lex stuffs it into his back pocket like it doesn’t mean a thing.

//

“Yes, her hair is indeed very long,” Lex says, accepting the offering of Lena’s hairbrush, complete with stray strands of dark hair still caught in its teeth as ample proof for this careful observation. “This, Bizarrogirl, is absolutely perfect.”

And it is. Because this isn’t just a handful of coffee cups tossed in the trash or a lone glove left behind in the snow during a hasty commute. No, this is something she actually had to break into Lena’s apartment for, in the middle of a workday, undetected even in broad daylight.

But even all that and more couldn’t outweigh the very simple fact that Lex has the means to kill her now.

Evidently, a big part of his new project has been synthesizing a strain of Kryptonite that would only be lethal to her, and he must have succeeded because today, he’s armed with blue-tipped syringes that can pierce her skin.

It’s for research purposes. It’s the only way that Lex can collect blood samples so as to better study her molecular makeup, which will only help her in the long run. Lex, of course, would never hurt her.

Except it does hurt. Each needle sinks into her arm in an acute twinge, and she can feel the aftereffects of the breach crawling inside her head. It’s worse than the green light. It makes her stomach dry out like a rock, and tugs cool drops of sweat onto the surface of her skin.

But Lex must notice this sudden unrest living inside her because he lets her keep the hairbrush.

“Mine?” she asks, cradling the brush in her hands. It’s been relieved of all traces of Lena, but that doesn’t matter. She’s seen Lena use it enough times that it’s still rightly precious.

“No, it’s still Lena’s,” Lex corrects her with a gentle smile. “But you can keep it,” which is the best possible answer he could have given her.

//

She’s watching Lena unwind at home from her favorite spot in the sky, drawing from her x-ray vision and super-hearing with an ease that is now very practiced.

Everything is pleasantly routine until Kara knocks on Lena’s door, which is still very routine until they start raising their voices at each other. They exchange some words that she doesn’t quite understand with many implications that perhaps she will never understand. Then Supergirl is leaving through the balcony, flying off into the night in a blur of boastful blues and reds, while Lena is left behind to yell at herself and cry in unpredictable bursts.

Eventually, Lena settles in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of something that makes the air taste bitter. She’s halfway through her third glass when she slumps forward, her head dropped into her folded arms, breath gradually slowing and deepening.

She watches Lena sleep, waiting until the waiting is unbearable. There are all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she touches down onto the balcony, sidling into the apartment like a fleeting shadow, and finds herself in Lena’s presence for the very first time.  

The bitter taste is stronger in her nose now, but so is everything else to be perceived about Lena. Everything from her soft snores to the slight warmth her body gives off once within reach.

And she risks that everything for a single touch, brushing her fingertips right where Lena’s long hair starts to end. It’s light, yet stirs something pure, frenzied, and fluttering in her chest. Then Lena sniffles and mumbles into her own arm, “… Kara?” and the moment spills into reality.

Teeth bared, she plucks the glass from Lena’s fragile grip with just enough care that it doesn’t shatter and leaves the same way Supergirl had barely an hour before.

//

She sets the glass before Lex with a firm clack! that calls his attention away from his tablet.

“Oh hello…” Lex sits up with a small chuckle. “And what’s this? Are we celebrating?”

“Lena is sad.”

Lex is out of his chair, his stare wild as he promptly demands, “What happened? What did you see?”

“Kara came. They talked… Supergirl left.” She squeezes her right fist, digging her nails into her palm the way she’s supposed to when things overwhelm her. “And… Lena is sad.”

Lex bursts into laughter. He doesn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night.

//

She doesn’t want to learn things about Lena anymore.

Things are so different now. Lena is quieter, often alone. She spends most of her time at work and not nearly enough time maintaining habits that are meant to keep her alive.

But Lex still insists that she keep watch, so she does, and she still does it so well. She works at it even harder, in fact, now that his visits have become even fewer and farther in between as of late. Lex’s other project is supposedly not as important as she is, but it siphons off his time like it must be.

Lena’s new routine is polished, heavily sanitized, and well-established until the night she breaks it in favor of tasting the nighttime air. She steps onto her balcony in clothes made for sleep and with a glass filled with something more sweet than bitter. Her eyes narrow up at the darkened sky. She stares, as if expectant.

“Hello…? Is somebody out there?” Lena rests her elbows precariously against the railing,  sighing between intermittent sips of her drink. Then, in a softened voice, “… Who are you?” And all of a sudden, Lena’s become tangible and more than just another person waiting for Supergirl to save her.  

Bizarrogirl glides from shadow to shadow, trailing the darkness all the way down to the far corner of the balcony, where she settles in, secluded and silent. Lena doesn’t turn around, but her heartbeat is readily transparent enough for the both of them that it doesn’t matter. “Hello, Lena,” she says.

Lena sighs into her glass. “So, are you the one stealing my things then?”

“Yes.”

“You know… I really thought I was just going crazy. That I was just conjuring up senseless conspiracies because god forbid I ever misplace something like a normal person.” Lena pauses to take a small sip of her drink and chuckle. “But then, you went ahead and took my favorite glass right out of my hand, so…”

She smiles, even though she knows no one can see it. “You are smart.”

“Allegedly,” Lena says, shrugging. She looks over her shoulder, blinks blearily right into the darkness. “You’re really not going to show yourself, huh?”

“No. Never.” She holds her breath, but the follow-up question never comes.

Instead, Lena just turns back around with a small nod. “Believe me, I’d be doing the same thing if I could,” she says quietly, and leaves it at that.

“Not… scared?” she finally has to ask.

“Should I be?”

She shakes her head after some hesitation. “No.”

“Well, there we go then,” Lena says, rubbing at her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Listen… I’m just… so tired right now, and frankly, I just don’t have it in me to address whatever it is you’re trying to do. But to be honest—” she tosses back the last of her drink in a single swallow—“I have enough things. So… consider this a freebie.”

“… Freebie?”

Lena pushes off the railing, exhaling half-hearted laughter. “Yes, freebie. I’m leaving this for you right here, okay? No need to resort to petty theft or breaking and entering.” She sets the empty wineglass right outside her door, but pauses before stepping through. “… So, what’s your name anyway?”

The most obvious answer—so carefully practiced, her clumsy mouth sounding out the word over and over again for her own sake—feels wrong in the moment. A lie, somehow, in the face of Lena’s undeserved generosity.

“You do have a name, don’t you?” Lena glances over, head tilted curiously, and their eyes almost meet despite all the darkness cast between them.

“No,” she manages to say, her fingernails biting fiercely into her own palm.

Lena gives a hum, one so thoughtful and reminiscent of her brother. “Well… that’s something you’ll have to steal from someone else, I’m afraid.”

She watches Lena slide the door shut behind her, but waits until all the lights disappear before reaching for the glass.

//

It takes two more days for Lex to pay her another visit, and he walks into her room to find her turning the wineglass over and over in her hands. He frowns when she doesn’t immediately offer it up to him.

“So, did you learn anything?” Lex asks, and she just nods. “… And…?”

She rolls her right hand into a fist so tight that her entire hand feels like a bruise. “Not. Scared.”

“Lena’s… not scared.” Lex studies the wineglass carefully before directing his sharp gaze back at her face. “I see.”

He doesn’t ask for further clarification, or any other question, or anything at all, for that matter. He just leaves, and she feels nothing about it.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Ruathym, part Three

Rating: NSFW Length: 2272 Pairing: Male Drider x GN Reader

The finale for the romance for @kim-monsterlings!

xxx

Much to your surprise, Ruathym gives you space. There are fewer summons and the spies make themselves ever scarcer, until you could swear there were long stretches of time in which you were truly alone. Even more surprising, you found yourself becoming restless and ill-tempered in these moments, losing your patience with even Tinki. (Of course, you make it up to the little, well-meaning creature; spiders, you learn, are surprisingly good at puppy-dog eyes.)

“You’ve been snapping at the staff left and right,” Ruathym says with no small amount of amusement some days later, braiding your hair down your scalp. It’s gotten longer, you realise, and you contemplate cutting it before your captor speaks. “Have I displeased you in some way?”

Yes, you wish to say, but you’re sure that the King has done nothing wrong. Not truly. “No,” you say instead, though it sounds unconvincing to your own ears.

“Hm,” hums Ruathym, tugging gently at your hair in admonishment. “With the way you’ve been acting, one might get the impression that you dislike being far from my side.” You twitch and he laughs, triumphant. “Is that it, my little bug? Have you come to crave the pull of my silk?”

“I wish you wouldn’t mock me,” you grouse, sighing heavily. “It reminds me why I prefer my own company.”

Ruathym chuckles, fingertips skating along the skin of your back before he picks you up and cradles you against him in his four arms. “I thought humans needed time to mourn their losses,” he says, searching your face with something sharper in his eyes than his usual derision. “I’m no reader of minds, my sweet. You must tell me if you have want of me.”

You scoff. You can’t help it. When has being vulnerable ever served you well? You almost bite his fingers when he turns your face to look into your eyes, sighing once again in your defeat. “And if I do?” you challenge, lifting your proud chin. “What of it?”

“Then you shall become my consort,” says Ruathym, with a simple frankness that flabbergasts you.

“Your—what?” you gasp, distantly aware that your lips are flapping like a fish on the docks.

“Do try not to make me repeat myself,” Ruathym replies in exasperation, pinching your chin. “My consort. My lover. Whatever you humans call those of our stations in courtship.”

“But I’m human!” you splutter, struggling to sit up straighter in his arms.

“I’m aware,” drawls Ruathym, helping you get your bearings—at least physically. “Did you think I was sleeping with you because you disgusted me?”

“I…” You don’t have the words. You don’t know what you thought, but it definitely wasn’t this. “You think I’m attractive?”

“What did I just say about making me repeat myself?”

You huff, scowling up into his handsome, angular face. “You wouldn’t be. I want answers, not riddles.”

Ruathym snorts indelicately, one of his few habits that doesn’t come with some modicum of damnable grace. “Yes, I find you attractive. No one else has the audacity to speak to me the way that you do. I find it thrilling.”

“You mean you like it when I’m cruel.” You frown. “That’s not what I’m after. I don’t want to be cruel to my lover. If you want to court me, you do it right.”

Ruathym carefully sets you down on the bed, curling his legs up under himself and draping his humanoid torso across plump, velvety pillows. “Teach me what humans do ‘right’, then,” he commands, gesturing for you to speak.

You flounder for a moment; this was not how you expected your evening to go. “We… We court,” you say dumbly, gesticulating helplessly. “We exchange gifts of trinkets and flowers, we write one another letters, we—well, usually there’s pining involved, I suppose.”

“How dull,” sighs the King, watching you beneath his thick, silvery lashes. “Driders kill for their lovers.”

The weight of his words isn’t lost on you. You think of your brother and his knights—of the entirety of the kingdom laid to waste at your feet. You feel lightheaded, blood creeping up your neck and up into your face. You have to resist the urge to hide from the slow, smug smirk of satisfaction that melts onto the Drider King’s face. Damn the man. Had he been courting you in his own way this entire time? Damn him!

“What about the Queen?” you ask, hedging around the obvious revelation and latching onto one of your more prominent doubts.

Ruathym blinks hard, clearly startled. “What about her?”

“You’re married,” you say, “and she hates me. Won’t she want me dead once she realises her lover’s attention has strayed?”

The King laughs, hard and loud, throwing his head back with his mirth and revealing his fangs. “She’s never loved me a day in her life,” he manages to gurgle after several seconds of laughter, “and the feeling is mutual. We married for politics and to spawn strong children. That’s all. If she so much as schemes to harm a hair on your head, I will kill her or die trying.”

“Ruathym!”

“What? Does it shock you? I protect what is mine, little bug, and you are what I wish to possess in your entirety.”

You bristle at this, though you curse your stupid heart for fluttering in your chest like a tizzied moth. “I’m not a thing, Ruathym. You can’t possess me. Either you love me, or our arrangement remains the same.”

Ruathym shrugs an elegant shoulder, expression shifting into something bordering on thoughtful. “What is love to a human may not be love to a drider, little one. I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Is that not love? I would kill you before I allowed you to court another. Is that not love? I would lay down my life to protect you. Is that not love, this powerful, ugly thing?”

You don’t know what to say to this. You want to object, but your heart is pounding too loudly, your thoughts are too muddled. Never has someone felt so strongly about you, and while your feelings are conflicted, you can’t deny that there’s something intoxicating about the King and his firm command of you in and out of the bedchambers.

Courtship with Ruathym is… interesting. He sends you poisonous flowers at first for their beauty, unaware that their very touch could kill you. When you correct him, he expresses his disdain for human frailty, but then he sends for roses and takes the care to have their thorns removed so as to avoid any chance of injury. It’s excessive and obnoxious, but it’s endearing in its own way, even if you’ve never been particularly fond of roses. Still, each bouquet is a different colour paired with different complimentary flowers, and you begin to look forward to your weekly deliveries with something like anticipation.

Then there are the letters.

As expected, Ruathym’s lettering is swooping and elegant, more reminiscent of ornamental calligraphy than what one would use for writing to a lover. Still, each letter holds within it a terribly sweet awkwardness that lets you know that he’s never written a letter out of love in the whole of his life. He’s strangely formal at first, addressing you by all of your names in the greetings of his first few letters, but it isn’t long before he’s dropping them all in favour of addressing you as he does in person. It makes your heart flutter oddly in your chest to see ‘little bug’ written in such beautiful, glittering script, shimmering silver on charcoal grey parchment.

Soon, they become less letters and more little notes delivered on scraps here and there. Tiny doodles of advisors dying terrible deaths done in the throes of boredom, or tidbits of trivia from the kingdom at large. Did you know we had 5,363 cattle in the region of the L’Surba Caverns? Neither did I know nor care, one says, and you snort into your tea at the thought of the King sitting proudly while some poor sod with an abacus counted out their livestock from the sum of several reports. While you missed the weight of your crown, you did not exactly miss all of the bureaucracy attached to it.

He takes you on little outings, here and there. At first it’s a simple stroll through the gardens, sharing meals and speaking about your days. Then, as you both grow bolder, outings to meet—or, in his case, intimidate—the people. Finally, with glamours and enchantments, you take to the countryside for days at a time, disguised as a couple or adventurers on a quest. It’s during these outings that you get to know him best, away from the bustle of the castle, where his impetuous charm and rakish smiles lure you to him like a moth to flame, and you crash and burn in his heated embrace.

One evening many months later, you are summoned to a part of the palace that you rarely frequent, for it is usually crawling with servants and vassals of every kind. Now, however, the halls are quiet and still, and the servant who leads you to the chamber where Ruathym awaits disappears like a whisper in the dark. There, in the centre of the room, is a set of robes unlike any you’ve ever seen, woven in shimmering silk dyed the colour of rubies. You approach as if in a dream, running your fingers along embroidery in the shape of tiny silver spiderlings along the shoulders and hems—you nearly jump out of your skin when the King drapes himself across your back.

“What is this?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder at his soft, searching face.

“Your wedding attire,” he says, and he seems unperturbed when you draw away, stunned.

“My what? Your wife!”

“Is dead,” Ruathym simply replies, shaking his head at your unasked question. “We had a clutch of eggs. She went the natural way. The children feed on her yet.”

You grimace at this, though you can’t deny the relief you feel at her passing. “You’re a father now?”

“I am. You will also be their parent, when we wed.”

“‘When’? You’re assuming I’ll accept!”

“Would you deny me?” he asks sharply, eyes narrowing into gleaming slits.

Your stomach flips. “Well,” you say, flustered and at a loss. “This is all so sudden, Ruathym!”

“Is it really?” he asks, reeling you in against him again. “We’ve posed as newlyweds before. Why is it so different now?”

“Because it’s real now! We wouldn’t be pretending!”

“Who says that I was pretending before?” he demands, trapping you between his body and the robe on the mannequin. “It was practise.”

You feel your face burning, and you’re sure you might blend into the robe at your back if given just a little more provocation. “You despicable little—“

“Yes, yes, call me names,” he says, waving away your insults. “Later. Give me your answer now.”

“You know my answer,” you grumble, pushing ineffectively at his chest.

“I know it,” he confirms, smugness in every syllable. “I wish to hear it.”

You kiss him instead, drawing him into a passionate embrace and climbing up into his arms when he lifts you off your feet. You hadn’t seen the bed in the corner of the room, but that’s where he takes you a moment later, tossing your “irritating human clothing” over the edge of it and onto the floor. You expect him to bend you over the pillows. You expect him to claw at your skin, to bite at your shoulders, to whisper filth into your ears.

He kisses you instead.

He kisses you like neither of you have ever borne a crown—as if he could find the answers in the hazing of your eyes when he steals your breath with his tongue, hands in your hair and burning along your spine. He teases you open with his fingers until you’re reduced to begging for release, and then he presses into you with soft, shuddering breaths spilling from his lips, eyes on your face as you toss your head back into the sheets and writhe.

He sighs your name like a psalm when you come around him, and then he pushes into you again and again, his cool fingers threading between yours and holding you firmly against the bed as you shake apart beneath him. You feel something in your chest unbreak when he bites you without fang, staying present for every moment that his lips brush against yours and your name falls into the pool of heat between you.

This time, when he comes, he shatters like a shower of glass and sparks, cresting against you like a wave and pushing you over the edge all over again, throat trapped desperately—willingly—between his teeth. When your eyes focus again, you find him looking down at you with a tenderness you’d never thought him capable of, and it makes you want to hide. “What?” you whisper up at him, trying and failing to tug a bit of the sheets over your body.

“I love you, little bug,” Ruathym whispers back, tracing your lips with his thumb. “I have done and will do so until this heart in my chest stops beating.”

“That’s so dark,” you say, “for a declaration of love.”

“It is my declaration, and I am not a man of light. Would you deny me?”

“No,” you breathe, shyly reaching up to touch his face. “I love you, too.”

Ruathym smiles, and despite his words, it lights up the room. “I know.”

You snort. “Bastard.”

“I know that, too.”

[osamiiya]

Pairing; Iwaizumi x Reader

Warnings: Some suggestive humor, nothing explicitly said, making out

Summary: You and Iwaizumi are too stubborn to admit to Oikawa that you did really like each other and had a great time on the date he set up, so you keep up the appearance that you hate each other.

Iwaizumi has hated you since the second grade when Oikawa saw you out of the corner of his eye and invited you over to practice volleyball with them.

And that's when it started, loud groans when the other walked into the room, snide comments under your breath, eyes rolled when the other person talked.

It's been years that Oikawa has had to separate the two of you before someone got hit, years of Oikawa complaining that he felt like a mother, and that he would grey early which was not good for his appearances.

Who even knows how the idea of the two of you secretly liking eachother came to be. Maybe it was Hanamaki or Matsukawa joking around. Either way, he was right.

And when you walked into the restaurant on this 'blind date' Oikawa set up, looking nicer than usual, Iwaizumi's heart clenched and a blush made its way up his cheeks.

"Why're you here." Your eyes narrowed when you spotted him, ignoring the way your heart beat a little quicker at the sight of him in the white dress shirt you had picked out for his birthday, having done a joint gift with Oikawa and all the other options being the same pair of sweats he probably already owned, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and they're uneven and if it was any other moment you would've made fun of him.

"I have a blind date Oikawa set up." It's said bluntly and you nod in agreement, any sarcastic quip or comment lost on your tongue.

The two of you end up waiting outside the restaurant, on opposite sides of the doorway, for an hour before you take out your phone to text Oikawa tht you've been stood up, and Iwaizumi does the same thing from what you can see out of the corner of your eye.

"You have such a bad personality even your blind date stood you up." The words leave your mouth in a familiar way, the end clipped and your eyes refusing to meet his as you stare at the typing symbol in your messages.

"You're one to talk, your blind date took one look at a picture Oikawa sent and saw how ugly you were."

The insults are childish as they're thrown back and forth, the familiarity of it helping soothe the sting of getting stood up.

Your phone dings with a message from Oikawa and your eyes quickly scan the text, widening at the message.

"Oi stupid, you were my date apparently." There's a brush of embarrassed flush across his cheeks and his hand runs through his hair as his eyes look anywhere but you.

"This is stupid let's just go-"

You're quick to interrupt, watching the vein pop out if Iwaizumi's head in irritation.

"Why don't we just go on the date? We can play nice for one night, I don't want to have gotten ready for nothing." Your arms are crossed as you stare him down, and Iwaizumi sighs, agreeing begrudgingly.

And surprisingly you had a nice night, Iwaizumi even mentioning how the date was going well, the air clearing about hating eachother, finding that you never hated each other as previously thought.

He walks you home and squeezes the hand that intertwined with yours sometime during the date.

"I had a nice time." His smile is soft and it's at that moment when you realize that you wouldn't be able to go back to how it was before.

"I did too... all thanks to Oikawa I guess." Iwaizumi cringes as you laugh, Iwaizumi laughing stiffly along with you.

"He'll brag about how he was right for the rest of time." He groans out, punctuated with a chuckle as you swing your hands.

"Well I don't think we have to tell him it went well."

Iwaizumi's eyebrow shoots up at your words and you find your hand cupping his cheek and smoothing out his eyebrow.

"We can tell him it went bad, just so he stops putting us together, and we can have dinner next week?"

Iwaizumi nods and agreement, kissing your cheek before he goes home, a smile not leaving his face.

And that's how it went, Oikawa pouted when told him the date went terribly and that people don't change overnight, all while sending a knowing look to Iwaizumi as his foot finds yours under the lunch table, knocking against yours playfully.

You'd fight during the day, and find yourself in Iwaizumi's arms after school on your couch as a movie plays on the television.

"We should tell him sometime, he looked suspicious today."

Iwaizumi's hands find your waist and squeeze gently.

"That's because that guy had the nerve to keep flirting." He's pouting slightly as he remembers how the guy kept flirting even as you turned him down, Iwaizumi eventually stepping in with a "Dude, stop it."

You laugh as you kiss the pout on his lips, feeling as Iwaizumi's arms move you to laying down on his couch, a mischievous smile on his face as he leans over you.

"You know I'm all yours." Your words are whispered against his lips, and you feel Iwaizumi shudder slightly at the feeling of your breath on his lips.

"All mine."

His lips capture yours in a kiss, and you melt against him, the feeling of his lips on yours, and one of your hands pinned above your head, hands intertwined as his thumb brushes the back of your hand softly.

You don't even hear the knocking on the door, or the cream of the door as it opens.

No, you don't see Oikawa until you hear his yell and something drop.

Iwaizumi's off of you in a flash, pulling down your shirt that rode up with the wandering if his hands before running a hand through his hair.

"Oh hey Oikawa."

Oikawa looks shocked, and there's bread on the floor.

"Don't 'Hey Oikawa' me, you were making out. I saw y/n's tongue in your mouth Iwa-chan."

He shivers in disgust as he recalls the scene, a disgusted pout on his lips as he looks toward you for an explanation.

"Hajime, we should just tell him."

At the sound of Iwaizumi's first name, Oikawa's jaw drops, so it was serious.

"We're dating."

It's said with a shrug and you feel Iwaizumi get antsy, wanting your lips on his again.

"The date you set up went well, and turns out we didn't hate eachother."

Oikawa's fingers are up in a flash as he counts how many months it's been.

"You've been dating for 7 months and you didn't tell me?" You can tell Oikawa isn't mad that you're dating, just that you didn't tell him.

"It never came up." Iwaizumi shrugs, and his hand finds yours again.

Oikawa looks to you, and you shrug as well.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"So you're telling me I didn't have to parent you for the last 7 months, or break up your arguments."

You snort as you hold back your laugh, and a smile spreads across Iwaizumi's face.

"We were going to tell you." You insist, and Oikawa shakes his head.

"I thought I was about to go prematurely grey because of the two of you, and now you're telling me it could have been avoided."

He sighs before continuing.

"No kissing at practice, I want to see how long it takes until Hanamaki and Mattsun figure it out."

You choke on your laughter as Iwaizumi mentions how Oikawa wasn't the first to walk in on you kissing, the duo accidentally opening the locker room door early before practice to find you pinned against the lockers, Iwaizumi's lips on yours.

Oikawa goes pale with embarassment and shock as he groans.

"I'm your best friend why am I last."

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and mumbles something about "Knowing this would happen." To which you slap his shoulder, biting back a laugh.

"Even Kageyama found out before you."

"Hajime!"

Kageyama had walked in on one of your dates after school when Oikawa got held up at school with his fangirls.

Oikawa groans for a solid minute before collapsing onto the couch on the other side of you, rewinding the movie to the beginning.

"If you're happy."

There's a smile on his face, even as he tries to hide it, before he starts complaining about your choice in movie, fake gagging when Iwaizumi mentions how you weren't planning on watching it anyways.

Your hand is intertwined with Iwaizumi's, your head on his shoulder as the movie plays, Oikawa making a big show out of hugging the pillow, grumbling about being single.

"I think I liked it better when you were fighting than now. Iwaizumi Hajime that's not y/ns thigh, that's mine."

---

Taglist;

@tetsurolls @elianetsantana @peteunderoos @jovialnoise @ryusex-wife @dai-tsukki-desu @indecisivehusky @curiouslilbeast @alphabetsoupyum @dumbiebambi @dejvns @x-ia-n @itsmeaudrieee @llamakenma @hawksnumberoneuwu @prayerofthehaim @morpheus-rex @kac-chowsballs @sushii10 @chiiasa @kageyamasgirl @toworuu @imcoolbutsoareyou @yuujiya

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Favor

Summary: Y/N comes to Negan asking him for a favor and in return he asks her to do something for him and his wife Lucille.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Lucille.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut & a Threesome (MFF) 

Notes: Not going to lie, this doesn't have much of a plot. This was just a story that was requested of me and after seeing the promo picture of Negan and Lucille from The Walking Dead 10c, I was inspired. 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909305

“So, you want me to do what now?” Negan blurt out clearly amused by the tone of his voice from where he was sitting on the corner of his desk. Frustration flooded Y/N’s body when she lowered her head and an embarrassed flush developed over her face. Negan was laughing plainly still stuck on what she had asked him. The reaction to what she asked of him made her almost regret asking him in the first place. “Say it again.”

“Forget it,” Y/N held her hand up in the air not wanting to embarrass herself any further. Pointing behind her, she nodded toward the direction she wanted to leave. If she could hit rewind on this whole thing, she totally would have. When she came to Negan’s office to ask him for a favor, she never really expected it to turn out like this. She didn’t even know what she was thinking in the first place. “I’m sorry for asking. I’m going to go hide and pretend like I don’t even know you anymore because I feel so stupid.”

“No, no. Hold on,” Negan called out when she went to leave his office and he continued to snicker to himself. “I’m just…you have to understand here I’m not used to people making requests of me like this. Actually, I’m not used to anyone asking me for anything.”

“Listen, I’ve been working here for a while and not many people are really nice to me here. You’re always very kind to me,” she admitted noticing the way that Negan had his eyes hooked on her. His eyebrows arched in curiosity when she took a moment to pause and think about what she was going to say. Recently she had joined the school as a student teacher. When she started working in the art department, not many people really gave her the time of day. Most of the people that worked there had their cliques and it felt like high school all over again. Negan was really one of the only people that she found to be nice to her. In her short time at the school, Y/N was able to help update things greatly and it truthfully pissed off some of the older staff that was working there. So, she was often snubbed in the hallways, but Negan was never one of those people. “I thought we were kind of friends.”

“Because we talk to each other in the teachers’ lounge?” Negan snorted and his reply made her feel stupid all over again.

“Well that and we have been bringing each other breakfast for a while now,” she reasoned with him and Negan’s big hazel eyes got wider. It looked like Negan was about ready to burst at the seams with laughter and when he began to laugh, she looked down toward the ground again. “Wow, I totally misread everything here. I am so sorry.”

“I felt bad for you that people were snubbing you so I brought you coffee and then you had to go be adorable bringing me in breakfast as a thank you,” Negan sighed watching her worried eyes lifting to his. Leaning forward, he slicked back his thick, dark hair and ran his fingers through his dark beard. “It just kind of became a thing. Tuesdays and Thursdays are mine. Mondays and Wednesdays are yours.”

“I’m confused,” she cleared her throat, resting her back against the wall while watching him closely. “Does that mean you think we are friends or not?”

“Well, originally I just kind of thought we were work associates that were friendly with each other,” Negan simply answered, rubbing his hands together when he eyed her over. “Friends hang out with each other after school. Friends exchange numbers. That kind of thing.”

“Part of me worried about asking you to hang out because…” she got caught up on what she was thinking. There was the urge to be blunt and honest with him, but another part of her didn’t want to feel even more pathetic than she already did. “You’re married and I didn’t want you to think that I was asking you out on a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you didn’t want to exchange numbers?” Negan almost teased her, lifting his hand up to look over the wedding band on his finger. “You know, Simon and I exchanged numbers almost immediately. Simon doesn’t bring me breakfast two days out of the week.”

“Yeah, but Simon is a guy,” she reminded him and Negan tilted his head to the side as if waiting for her to explain further.

“So, I can’t be friends with a woman because I’m married?” Negan inquired and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond so she just shrugged her shoulders. “Well that’s a little sexist, isn’t it? Why can men only be friends with men? Also…who’s to say I’m not attracted to both men and women? Then should I be friends with no one because I’m married?”

“I never…wait…what?” she felt overwhelmed with his interrogation and his thick rumble of a laugh filled the air again. “You know what, I think I’m going to leave. I’m sorry for bothering you about this. This was illogical.”

“Hey, I’m fucking with you,” Negan alerted her when he could sense that she was getting stressed with the way he was acting. “I’m not saying no, but I don’t really get it. You know? You want to take photos of me? For what reason?”

“Just forget it,” she shook her head knowing that this was absurd from the start.

“Would you just sit down for a second,” Negan suggested, holding his hand out toward the seat that was before him in front of the desk he was sitting on the edge of. When she went to leave again, he stumbled to his feet and grabbed her wrist in a delicate manner. Pulling her back, he carefully nudged her down into the seat and went back to sit where he was. In this position, Negan was definitely in her person space and it made her uncomfortable. This was awkward. “Explain. Just tell me why you want me to do it. That’s all I’m asking you.”

“I’m working on my portfolio and I just want people to pose for me for some portraits,” she answered feeling small with the way Negan was staring down at her. His light, hazel eyes were incredibly intense and it made her mouth go dry.

“And you don’t have friends that could do this for you?” Negan tilted his head to the side and bit at his lip when he asked her. “I’m not really one for photos, you know? I know you like the whole photo and video thing, but it’s just…I’ve never liked being in front of them.”

“I find that hard to believe because you love being the center of attention,” Y/N rationalized with him what he had just said to her. The expression he gave her almost seemed impressed that she called him on his shit, but she immediately felt embarrassed for saying that to him. “I am so sorry.”

“No, you’re right…I like to tell a story,” Negan confessed with a snort, knowing that she was being bold with what she said to him. “And I do like to be doted on.”

“Your personality is part of the reason I want to take photos of you,” she thought of all the times she had walked into the teachers’ lounge to see Negan having a group of people surrounding him while he told a story. The way he would smile and get extremely animated with his body made him someone she wanted to take pictures of for so long. “You’re fun.”

“Well, that’s true,” Negan winked, his smile drawing her eyes to it. It seemed like Negan was thinking things over while he stroked over his short, dark beard. “I’m just sure you have better looking, younger friends.”

“Yeah, I have friends, but I just like your look,” she explained and Negan’s eyebrows bounced up with her answer. Folding her arms out in front of her chest, she slid down in the chair and cleared her throat. “If you don’t like photos taken, that’s okay.”

“So basically, you’re telling me you think I’m hot,” Negan retorted with another amused breath, “that’s why you want to take pictures of me?”

“I’m not saying you’re hot,” she panicked at his response and she shifted in the seat before him uncomfortably. Well shit, why did she have to go and say that?

“Now are you saying I’m ugly then?” Negan hurriedly blurt out and she felt the room around her getting extremely hot.

“I would never say that. Negan, yes. I like to take photos of people that appeal to me. I like your look and your style,” she shook her head, not knowing exactly what to say with him. “You’re unique and looking at you inspires me with ideas of things that we could do if we worked together.”

“What kinds of things?” Negan’s voice got deeper and there was clear interest in his eyes. “I didn’t know that my looks could inspire someone.”

“You’d be surprised,” she sighed knowing that she found Negan extremely ruggedly handsome. It was hard not to stare at him whenever he was around. When he first brought her coffee, she thought it was a form of flirting, but when she took notice of his wedding ring she knew better. Instead she just assumed that Negan was a friendly person and accepted the weird friendship they had going.

“Just to confirm some things here. You are asking me to come to your studio you have tonight because you don’t like anyone else here…” Negan revealed what he thought she was telling him and she leaned forward in the chair. Her lips parted and she looked shocked to hear what he said. Y/N made hesitant movements as if trying to think of something to say in response, but he shook his head. “Don’t pretend you like the people here. They are fuckers. Most of them at least. We both know that.”

“Everyone seems to like you,” she reminded him and Negan made a dramatic face that made her laugh. “I haven’t met a person that hates you.”

“I’m an asshole with a mouth that gets me in trouble. Everyone loves that, but also secretly hates that. It’s like a Stepford community every single time I come here. I don’t blame you for hating everyone,” Negan dismissed that thought and waved his hands in the air. “Back to what I was saying though, you think I’m fucking hot and you want to take pictures of me.”

“I don’t recall telling you that I think you are fucking hot,” she pointed out and Negan’s dimples became more prominent when he gave her a doubtful expression.  Instead of giving him the gratification of her saying yes, she did find him hot, she moved along with what she was saying. “It’s for my portfolio. Yes, I want to teach, but I’d also potentially like to have more one day.”

“Hmm…I see,” Negan licked his lips and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. Pressing his hands back, he braced his weight on them when he leaned back and cleared his throat. “If I do you this favor for you…you have to do me a favor.”

“What’s that?” she was surprised to hear him say something like that but was almost curious as to what he could possibly want from her.

“I’ve seen some of the videos you’ve done for the school. What you do is good work,” Negan stated with a smirk seeing the curiosity flooding through her features. “If you want me to be your model, you have to record something for my wife and me on the weekend.”

“That’s it?” she half laughed knowing that she was expecting something much worse. “Absolutely. That’s no problem at all.”

“You’d be free Saturday to come over and help us out with a project?” Negan confirmed and she enthusiastically nodded. “It’s kind of…intense. You’re down for anything?”

“Negan, you’re helping me out greatly if you model for me. I’d do anything for you,” she claimed knowing that she was absolutely excited at the possible idea of him even considering modeling for her. Especially after she felt so ridiculous for asking him in the first place.

“I’m holding you to it,” Negan snapped his fingers and gave her a wink before looking down at himself. “I’ve got jeans and a black Henley when I’m not in my gym clothes here. Is that going to be okay with you? It’s not like I have multiple outfits.”

“We’ll make it work,” she knew it wouldn’t matter what he wore because she would be able to do some really nice things just having him there. “Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?” Negan asked with an entertained sound which made her swiftly shake her head. Reaching his large hand out, he took her hand in his and shook on what they agreed upon. “Then I guess we have a deal.”

“Definitely,” she agreed with him, knowing that she didn’t mind doing something for anyone when they helped her out.

“I brought the motorcycle in so I will just have to follow you after school,” Negan informed her with a loud sigh, getting up from where he was seated on the corner of his desk. Heading to his seat, he knew that he had a lot of work to finish before then and he needed to get to work on it. “I’ll meet you out in the parking lot when I’m done.”

The plans were set in stone and Y/N went back to the class she was meant to be helping with. She was thankful that Negan agreed to do the photoshoot, but she prayed that she didn’t make a fool of herself when she was around Negan. It would be easy to do since she felt like she had already been somewhat foolish when she asked him to do this in the first place.

After school was over, she had met Negan in the parking lot and had him follow her to her home where she had a studio set up in her oversize detached garage. When she opened it and urged Negan to drive his motorcycle into the garage, she could hear Negan snickering.

“What?” she was confused with the way he was acting while he turned off his motorcycle. Shrugging her shoulders, she waited for an answer as he pulled him body from the motorcycle after putting his kickstand down.

“Well when you told me your studio, I just kind of imagined a real studio. Not one that was set up in your garage,” Negan looked beyond her to see the set-up she had at the complete opposite end of her garage.

“This garage is the reason I got this house. I saw opportunities with a studio in here and it’s the best I can do right now. It’s a heated garage. I think the guy before me used it as a mancave or like a workout area,” she explained and the sound that Negan made almost made her feel embarrassed again. “Damn, you’re good at making me feel ridiculous lately.”

“You’re not ridiculous, I just think you’re adorable,” Negan pulled his helmet off and hung it from the handle of his motorcycle. “I give you shit because I like to see you flustered. Not because you’re ridiculous, but because you are adorable.”

“You’ve told me I’m adorable a lot today,” she recalled the many times he had already said that.

“It’s because you are,” Negan cocked his head and gave her a smile. She didn’t know if she should be flattered by his comment or offended. Given she couldn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses that he was still wearing, she urged herself to believe him instead of thinking the worst. Hopefully she didn’t come off like a big joke to him.

Heading off in the direction of the lights she had set up, she could hear Negan following her and she began to turn things on to set up a scene, “You know for a while I almost though this whole photoshoot thing was code that you wanted to have sex with me. Now I can see you are just very serious about all of this.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that would like a woman to be forward with that kind of thing Negan,” she acknowledged and looked over her shoulder from where she was setting up a light. “And if you weren’t married, I would have considered it.”

“I do like someone who knows what they want,” Negan agreed with her after thinking about what she said. What made him even more interested was the fact she told him she would have definitely considered something like that. “I’m warning you, I’m a pain in the ass. I’m more of a goof than I actually am sexy and shit.”

“I prefer when someone’s real personality comes out on camera,” she shrugged off his response and continued to set up the area. “How do you feel about using the motorcycle as a prop for the first few photos?”

“Is that what you want?” Negan looked back in the area where he left his motorcycle. “I don’t give a shit what we do in the photos. I’m doing all of this for you. So, whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“I mean, the motorcycle fits your personality so I think it would be cool,” she thought about the offer and Negan walked off to go get his motorcycle again. After setting things up, she had started to take photos of Negan and could sense that he was uncomfortable. He still had his sunglasses on and his leather jacket, but she just felt like he was really stiff. “How would you normally pose on a motorcycle Negan?”

“Honey, I don’t pose on them. I just ride them,” Negan answered while sitting back on his motorcycle, his eyebrows lifting up and over his sunglasses. A tense breath fell from his throat when the light flashed again making him smile. “This is weird.”

“Why?” she moved around the space and Negan was amazed that she was discovering what she found to be good shots of him. “You’re not used to someone thinking you’re gorgeous and thinking you deserve to be photographed?”

“Come again?” Negan’s nose wrinkled hearing her tell him that he was gorgeous. Reaching up, he grabbed the corner of his sunglasses to adjust them and he heard her take another photo. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“You know you’re gorgeous Negan,” she claimed with a loud sigh, lowering her camera. “You have those dimples and you know that people are suckers for those.”

“Oh, so the dimples work on you, huh?” Negan clearly began to relax when Y/N commented on his dimples and the smiles she was getting were genuine. Adjusting his position, he could sense that she was happy with his change in attitude and bit at his bottom lip.

“Let’s get you off the motorcycle for now,” she ordered and Negan did what she wanted. Surprisingly things seem to go by fast because Negan started to listen to her. They went through a few props that she had in the garage. The two of them were laughing and giggling with each other about things they began talking about and it really helped her with the photos. “I’m going to get a different color background set up…”

“Would you be all right with me smoking?” Negan looked for permission and she shrugged. “It won’t damage things?”

“Just open the window over there,” she instructed and Negan took off his leather jacket and sunglasses while she set things up.

“You really love this shit, huh?” Negan took notice of how much her excitement went up when she was taking photos of him. It was nice to see someone actually be happy when doing something they liked and he was impressed that she could find happiness in her art. Lighting up his cigarette, he took in a long inhale and noticed her moving to the window with him. “Let me guess, you find me smoking sexy?”

“I don’t think you even have to ask me that,” she lifted the camera and Negan smirked when she took a few more photos of him. “I just think you have a very striking look.”

“It’s the dimples,” he listened to her when she gave him more direction on photos she wanted of him. “Does your boyfriend like when you take photos of him?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she informed him while she continued snapping away. “I’m surprised you went straight into assuming things Negan. I could have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, are you into that kind of thing?” Negan’s eyebrow perked up in interest and she shrugged her shoulders before smiling.

“I’m open to things, but I’m not dating anyone,” she replied knowing that she really didn’t want to get into her personal life with Negan at the time, “I’m sure that doesn’t’ surprise you.”

“Actually, it does because you’re incredible,” Negan finished up with his cigarette and watched her roll her eyes when she went back to the set-up she had done before Negan started smoking. “Why did you roll your eyes like I’m fucking with you or something?”

“You…” she waved her hand out when looking over him. “You are incredible. So, to hear you say something like that, I just know you are being sweet and charming as always. That’s just how you are. You’re a flirt and you know what to say to make people smile.”

“Well yeah, but I’m not kidding,” Negan stood where she wanted and posed how she would suggest. While he knew she would be against it, after she took a few more photos of him he stepped forward and reached for the camera. “Give me this.”

“Negan,” she was confused and he grabbed the camera firmly in his hand. He grabbed a chair and set it in the middle of her set. Forcing her onto the chair, he moved before her and raised the camera up to see how it would look in frame if he took her photo. “You suddenly know how to use a camera?”

“I told you I didn’t like to be in front of the camera. I know how to get around using one,” Negan answered her with a grunt when he took a photo of her. “I may not be as good as you are or know all the nifty buttons, but I know enough. My wife bought an expensive camera and someone had to learn how to use it when she didn’t have the time to.”

“Why are you taking photos of me?” she felt her cheeks blushing over while Negan moved from area to area to get pictures of her. “Negan?”

“Because you’re fucking stunning. I know I tease you, but I find you so fucking beautiful,” Negan muttered, lowering the camera enough to eye her over himself and he stepped forward to show her the photos that he had managed to get of her. “I don’t understand how someone as stunning as yourself doesn’t see it.”

“Negan…” she was speechless. His eyes were hooked on hers and they were incredibly close. All the compliments were getting to her and she could feel her body heating up with the closeness of him. When Negan’s eyes fell to her lips, she instantly stood up and reached for the camera from his hands. Negan was married, she couldn’t have the feeling she was experiencing at that exact moment. “You should take a seat.”

“Okay,” Negan sighed, turning the chair around and straddling it. Negan posed for her and then stood, turning the chair the right way. “Are there like photos that you will keep for your own personal use?”

“I mean, I keep the ones that I don’t put in my portfolio on a hard drive,” she watched Negan get comfortable and stretch out his long legs. When Negan let out snicker, she realized she didn’t get what he meant.

“I was going for like ones that you keep to yourself and don’t show anyone,” Negan slid his hand in over his lower abdomen, tracing over the thin planes of his body through the tight-fitting black Henley that clinging to his body. “Ones meant only for your eyes.”

“Negan…?” she pulled the camera away from her face when she saw Negan tug up the material of his shirt revealing his lower abdomen to her sight. Swallowing hard, her eyes fell to the V line that was exposed just above his pants. It made her throat go dry and she felt incredibly turned on while looking at him. It was hard not to eat him alive with her stare. Hey eyes started at the top of his pants and raised up his slender abdomen to finally meet Negan’s hazel eyes. The look that Negan gave her was almost sexual and she started taking the photos with the way he was posed.  

Gradually Negan caressed his long fingers over his exposed flesh, sliding his fingertips through the dark hair covering his body. The way Negan bit into his bottom lip made her shudder and there was a warmth that was filling her entire body. With each picture she took, the further Negan pulled the material of his shirt up exposing his long torso to her sight.

“There are just some things I think people might like keeping to themselves and not sharing with the world,” Negan’s left hand slid in over the center of his chest while his right skimmed over his long body toward his groin. Yeah, he was teasing her, but he was having a good fucking time doing it. Palming over his body excited him with her reaction. The flash continued to go off while she took photos of him like he was expecting her to do. Licking his lips, he wanted to appeal to her and knew it was working with the way she was breathing. “Because I honestly don’t mind continuing to be a model for you if you need it.”

“That would be nice,” she confessed, parting her lips and then licking over them to wet them. When Negan dropped his head back and let out a small moan as he continued to caress over his body through the denim of his pants. “You’re certainly the most…motivating subject I’ve had.”

“Just wait, I’ll get a whole hell of a lot more interesting,” Negan teased sitting up enough to pull his shirt from his body. Tossing the material aside, he could see her lower the camera just enough to take a look over his exposed abdomen.

“Wow,” she uttered, her heart hammering in her chest at the sight of him. He was more stunning than she could have ever imagined. All the tattoos that were hidden from her before added so much more to Negan’s personality and knew while she wanted to look him over more carefully. Each part of him deserved a certain amount of attention, but Negan wiggled his fingers egging her on to keep taking portraits of him.

Slowly Negan caressed over his hairy chest then down toward his abdomen, reaching for his belt. Pulling it apart, he found himself enamored with how she seemed to enjoy what he was doing. When he got the material pulled apart, he arched his hips up and slid his hand beneath the material of his jeans. Squeezing at his body, he knew that the way she had been staring at him between taking photos had fueled him and made him incredibly turned on.

After feeling his body firm against his grip, Negan pulled his hand out and opened his pants up. Tugging the zipper down, Negan kept his eyes hooked on the camera when he reached inside to pull his straining cock out. A groan fell from his throat while he squeezed at the base of his erection, pulling his hand slowly up toward the tip before sliding it back down.  

“Do you like what you see?” Negan pondered, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip in an erotic sweep. Originally when he agreed to this, this wasn’t where he saw this going, but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“Your wife is incredibly lucky,” she let out a shuddering breath feeling her throat going dry at the sight of him. She couldn’t believe she was still taking photos while Negan masturbated in front of her, but she kind of let him go with it.

“You could be incredibly lucky too,” Negan suggested, his hips arching up toward his grasp and he moaned loud enough to make her shift uncomfortably. “You do realize that you did this to me? This hard cock is all your fault. The least you could do is help me with it.”

“Negan, I wish I could,” she admitted, not sure what to do. Yes, she was incredibly attracted to Negan, but she knew that he was married. Wanting him like she did was wrong. Hell, taking pictures of him like this was wrong. “You’re married.”

“My wife wouldn’t care,” Negan promised her with a crooked smile while he continued to stroke over his solid length. The way he squeezed his body drew attention to each vein and it made her eyelashes flutter while watching him. “We have a very open relationship. So why don’t you come over here and thank me for doing what you wanted. I’ll thank you for giving me this…”

“You really have an open relationship?” she confirmed and Negan nodded his head while he arched his hips up toward his fist again drawing her attention to his impressive body. Moving across the room, she set her camera down safely and stepped before Negan. The sight of Negan’s body caused a warmth to flood to her core. From the first moment she had seen Negan she had found herself attracted to him and seeing him like this was like he had just stepped right out of her dreams. “You’re so sexy.”

“And you’re fucking beautiful,” Negan leaned forward to clutch firmly at her hips, pulling her in closer to him. Tracing his hands over her sides, he found his eyes locked on her watching the way she seemed to tremble when he touched her. Lifting up, he raised the material of her shirt and pressed wet teasing kisses under her navel. The sound that fell from her throat made a proud smile develop over his features as he continued his wet trail of kisses over her abdomen. A grunt fell from his throat when he felt his cock throbbing and he lowered his head to look down at his erection. “Get on your knees.”

Without question, she did as he said and carefully lowered herself down before him. Licking her lips, she hooked her eyes with his and reached out to caress her hands over his knees. The further her hands slid up his thighs, the lower he slid in the chair to give her more room. Tugging at the material of Negan’s pants she managed to pull them down his hips a little further to reveal his distended flesh better to her.

“You have a beautiful cock,” she reached her hand out to trace her fingertips up from the base of the underside of his hardened flesh to the tip causing it to twitch. The growl that fell from his throat triggered her to smirk and she repeated the movement a few more times.

“You’re teasing me,” Negan rumbled from where he was seated, reaching out with his right hand to brush his fingers into her hair. “Is this the way you want to treat someone who modeled for you?”

“Oh, like I’m treating you bad,” she rolled her eyes and loosely wrapped her palm around his shaft, stroking slowly over the length of his body. Negan’s jaw flexed when she did it and he arched his hips up toward her caress.

“Very, very bad,” Negan groaned, dropping his head back while she touched him and the muscles in his throat flexed. The warmth of her breath pressed in over his thigh and he felt her lips kissing over his flesh while she continued to delicately caress over his body. Lowering his head to watch her, he could tell that she was proud of herself with the way she was taunting him with the idea of her giving him a blowjob while she kissed up his abdomen. Tugging back on her hair, he could hear her wince and a proud smile expanded over her features. “Fuck, you’re a bad girl. You’re going to be punished.”

“You promise?” she bit at her bottom lip and Negan leaned forward to grasp at her jaw to pull her forward. With the way he was looking her over, it made her body feel like it was on fire. So many times she had pictured kissing Negan and now he was so close to her. It damn near took her breath away and she attempted to move into kiss him, but he kept her back.

“Most certainly,” Negan grunted pulling her to him and his lips collided with hers. It was a rough, demanding kiss that caused her to whimper against his mouth. The parting of her lips allowed Negan’s tongue to push its way into her mouth to caress his tongue over hers in soft flicks. A menthol taste lingered from Negan’s cigarette that he had earlier lingered, but she strangely liked it. Her grasp tightened on his body, making him moan into her mouth before biting at her bottom lip. “Open your mouth.”

Doing as she was told, she felt Negan’s thumb dragging across her bottom lip and she carefully drew it into her mouth. Sucking unhurriedly over it, her focus was on Negan and she wanted to pleasure him so badly, but she needed this to be memorable. The way Negan dragged his tongue over his bottom lip caused her whole body to shudder. God, he was so incredibly sexy. Slowly Negan pulled his thumb from her mouth and reached for the back of her neck urging her head down toward his lap.

Taking it as encouragement, she dragged her tongue across the bottom of his cock starting about mid shaft to the tip. With the sound Negan made, it made her that much more desperate to continue to pleasure him. Depositing soft kisses down his shaft and slowly upwards made him jolt. With each soft kiss, she would softly flick her tongue against his flesh and could hear his breathing getting heavier.  

Reaching the tip again, she dragged her tongue around the girth of it before taking a small amount of him into her mouth. Immediately, he eagerly lifted his hips closer to her, but she pulled away and gave him a judging look making him chuckle.

“Fuck…” Negan watched her caress over the top of his cock for a moment drawing pre-cum at his tip. Leaning in, she flattened her tongue and dragged it over the small slit causing him to moan when she collected the taste of him. With the soft kisses and the hints of her tongue, he found himself extremely turned on by the way she was doing everything. “You’re an erotic little shit, aren’t you?”

“And you’re an impatient fucker, aren’t you?” she almost mocked him, her words vibrating against the shaft of his cock. A loud moan escaped his throat and he sank his fingers further into her hair when she finally took him into her mouth. God, she was so fucking bold compared to what he pictured in his mind originally. Each stroke of her tongue and motion of her mouth over him was very meticulous, but fuck it felt amazing. Wet sounds filled the air while she slowly bobbed her head over his cock drawing his attention to him even more.

“Fuck,” Negan winced when she drew forth an incredible sense of pleasure when her tongue flicked over him a certain way. His eyebrows tensed and he watched her closely enjoying the pleasure she seemed to get from giving him a blowjob. “You look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth, you know that?”

Over time, her movements got stronger and faster attempting to get him to reach an orgasm. While he was enjoying her taking him right to the edge, he knew that he had other plans for how he wanted the night to end. Grasping tightly to her hair, he pulled her back and heard the slurping sound fill the air when she pulled her mouth from his erection.

The expression over her face came off strangely innocent and sensual at the same time when she licked at her wet lips. Urging her up closer to him, Negan dragged his tongue over her lips and heard the desperate sound she made when he did it.

“While I’d love to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours, this wasn’t exactly the thanks I was looking for,” Negan hummed, standing up and pulling her with him. Pressing his body to hers, the sound of his pants dropping to his ankles was heard and he smiled. When she breathed it still showed that she was nervous to be with him and it turned him on all the more. Palming over her full bottom, Negan squeezed at her body enjoying the sounds she was making when he did it. Backing her up, he led her toward his motorcycle and stopped when she ran into it. “I hope you understand, I’m not as delicate as you…”

Tearing at the material of her shirt, Negan eagerly got it from her body and tossed it aside. Her chest was rising and falling heavily while he continued his movements reaching around her to unhook her bra. When the material dropped from her body, Negan swiftly discarded that with her shirt and kissed over her collarbone. Growling against her flesh, he could feel her fingers tugging at his thick hair and his lips lowered between the valley of her breasts. Reaching his destination, Negan drew her nipple into his mouth and teased his tongue over the taut skin.

“Fuck me…” Negan felt her scratching at his bare shoulders and his hands roughly pulled apart her pants. There was no being careful in the way he tugged at the material of her pants. Her gasps filled the air when he managed to take down the material making her pull in closer to him. “Hold onto the bike…”

“Negan,” she whimpered when he kissed below her navel. The way his tongue flicked over her skin and his teeth followed up with small bites was driving her crazy. Listening to what he suggested, she dropped her hands back and braced herself on Negan’s motorcycle. “Are you sure it won’t fall over?”

“Oh, she’s a sturdy girl made for hard rides,” Negan slurred against her skin, his wicked hazel eyes looking up at her with a glimmering hint of mischief behind them. Tremoring, Y/N could feel his lips lower and when she felt his hands grabbed a tight hold of her thighs to push them apart further, she realized how serious this was all becoming. With her standing mostly naked before Negan, she felt the room spinning around her. This was all more than she was probably ready for, but there was no turning back now. “Mmmm.”

The loud kisses Negan pressed over her body turned into wet slurping sounds when reached between her thighs, eager to take tease her clitoris with his talented mouth. He certainly wasn’t delicate with his motions like he warned her, but she immediately recognized that her body began to shake and shudder with what he was doing to her. The way he varied between kissing, licking and sucking over her sensitive flesh and folds was driving her crazy. Digging her fingers into his thick hair, she found herself leaning back against the bike and wondered if her legs would be giving out on her.

With the way Negan was eating her out, she was almost worried that she would fall over. It was hard to keep up on steady legs while he focused so perfectly on her body. Dropping her gaze, she immediately regretted it because she could see that Negan was staring up at her while he pleasured her to see how she was reacting. God, this was everything she could have pictured and more.

When Negan drew his lips away from her body, she was shaking and clearly wanted him to continue, but his mouth was replaced by the rough caress of his fingertips sliding up the length of her wet slit. A surprised sound fell from her when Negan teased over her entrance with one of his fingertips before thrusting his long, slender finger into her tight opening.

“Good God,” Negan grunted pulling his finger slowly back before pumping it upward again into her. “This has been so much better than what I had planned for tonight…”

“Negan,” she cried out his name when he went back to pleasuring her with his mouth while his finger pumped inside of her. Her eyes slammed shut and a rush of heat flooded to her core. Every part of her felt like she was on fire and Negan clearly picked up on how he was making her feel when he inserted a second finger and delivered more determined strokes with his tongue. Reaching forward, she clasped tightly to Negan’s hair with both her hands and felt Negan humming against her flesh when she had an orgasm.

“Look at you…” Negan muttered from where he was knelt before her. Licking at his lips when he pulled his mouth away from her and moved his hands to caress over her thighs. “You are something else.”

A shocked sound escaped her throat when Negan quickly stood and forced her to face toward his motorcycle. Negan pushed into her upper back getting her to lower down and brace herself against his motorcycle. Taking his time, Negan traced over the long lines of her back with his rough fingertips. Appreciating the sights before him, he let her calm down a bit before reaching for her hips. Adjusting them where he wanted, he pressed in closer to her and could hear her breathing getting heavier.

Grabbing a hold of his aching erection, Negan led the tip of his cock through her wet folds and felt her shaking against him. Lining himself up with her entrance, he pushed his hips forward and heard her coo when he entered her body. A moan fell from his own throat when her tight body clung to his and he continued to sink his length into her.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Negan bottomed out inside of her and reached around her to caress over her full breasts. Y/N wiggled against him, ready for him to move while he stayed stagnant inside of her and an amused sound fell from his throat. “Patience beautiful. I’ll fuck you real good soon.”

Whimpering, she knew that he was teasing her much as she had done earlier with him. It was giving her time to get accustomed to his size inside of her and she could feel every ridge of his body making her tremor against him. Instinctively she tried to rock back against him, her body desperate to feel the movement of his body inside of hers.

“Hey now,” Negan brought his palm firmly over her bottom making her arch forward with a whine and he groaned out. “You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she looked over her shoulder at Negan and watched him begin to roll his hips behind her giving her that small amount of moving she was craving. Looking forward, she whimpered with delight as Negan started to thrust behind her setting a rhythm between them. God, she hoped they didn’t knock over his bike during this. Desperately she was trying to keep herself balanced against it while his thrusts behind her seemed to get hard. Each thrust forward drew a sharp breath from her lips and her eyes slammed shut. The smacking of their skin filled the air and the force at which he was fucking her felt absolutely remarkable. “Negan…”

“If this is how your photoshoots end, I’ll do it as many times as you fucking want sweetheart,” Negan pushed his body in closer to her and reached out to wrap his hand around her throat. The way she rocked back into his thrusts made Negan proud and he let out a moan himself. “Would you like that baby?”

“Yes,” she whined when Negan put pressure on her throat making her purr.

“Then we should make a habit of these,” Negan pulled her up against his chest and he kissed over her jawline while he continued to thrust into her. His other hand reached between her thighs to circle over her already sensitive bundle of nerves while he kept his hold on her throat.

“Negan?” she muttered his name when he pulled his hips away from hers and left her feeling empty. Turning, she watched him move over toward the chair that he was originally in and dropped down. Negan pat his thigh and then wiggled his finger at her to come to him.

“Come ride this baby,” Negan’s bright eyes were hooked on her movements as she moved across the area. Carefully, she lowered down over his lap and Negan reached for his body to help lead her hips down over him. Getting to see the look on her face as he entered her drove him wild with desire. The way she bit into her bottom lip was incredibly sexy and when she lowered herself completely over him, he couldn’t help kissing her. “Fuck.”

Helping her to set a pace over him, Negan grasped tightly to her hips knowing that he would likely leave a mark. Her arms were loosely hooked around his shoulders and Negan moaned into her mouth when he found just the right pace and position that he liked.

Kissing Negan felt incredible going along with the motions their bodies made together. She was rather enthusiastic with him the longer she moved over him and Negan dropped his head back against the back of the chair.

“Oh, that’s good,” Negan hummed in approval, his thighs flexing beneath her while she took him quite well inside of her. “Good girl taking control of that cock. You like that cock? Huh?”

“I do,” she purred into his mouth, sucking softly at the tip of his tongue when it pushed between her lips. Their heavy breaths, grunts and groans echoed in her makeshift studio and with Negan’s hands all over her body she felt her body start to shake. “Negan…”

“You almost there?” Negan firmly wrapped his arm around her waist, urging her hips over his again and again. Negan’s mouth was over her neck and he grunted against her flesh when she nodded. “Me too.”

Her cries filled the air and Negan groaned against her neck while her body clenched around him when he got her to another orgasm. Continuing to help her movements over him, Negan grunted against her body and winched when he felt his body locking up.

“I’m going to cum,” Negan felt her tugging at his hair and his mouth met hers. “Do you need me to pull out?”

“Only if you want to,” she panted meeting Negan in another kiss when she felt him locking up beneath her. His moan vibrated against her mouth as he bucked up to her again and again when his release hit him. Crying out against his mouth she could feel his body pulsating inside of her which felt amazing. After they both hit their release, she stayed still in his arms for a while and Negan’s head was resting against her chest. “Hey Negan?”

“Hey beautiful?” Negan lazily lifted his head and looked up at her with his bright eyes. There seemed to be a stressed expression over her features and he leaned into her touch while she stroked her fingers through his hair. “What’s up?”

“Are things going to change between us?” she muttered and Negan cracked a smile. “I mean like, I enjoyed our friendship we had going. You aren’t going to avoid me now, are you?”

“Fuck no. I’m an asshole, but I’m not a douchebag,” Negan snorted and he stretched enough to meet her in another kiss. The pounding sensation was still felt in her chest from her heart and she knew that she was absolutely swooning over Negan. “I wouldn’t want to fuck this up. Now that I know we have a good thing going.”

“Good,” she muttered and they stayed there for a little while longer until she finally pulled herself from him. It was uncomfortable to stand, but she did her best and got some of her clothes back on. Negan pulled his jeans back on and still somehow managed to convince her to take photos of him again after their sex. It was actually a pretty nice night and by the time he finally left, he gave her a kiss goodnight.

Shit, she had feelings for a married man and now things just felt…complicated. Although, over the next few days at work everything felt like nothing changed. Negan still brought her breakfast the next morning like they had often done with each other. In fact, Negan acted like nothing really happened between the two of them. Other than the fact he was potentially a little touchier, she found him to oddly fine.

When it was the day before she was supposed to go to Negan’s home to do the favor he asked of her, she found herself worried about it. Knowing that she slept with Negan, Y/N wasn’t sure that she would be able to face Lucille and she went to tell Negan about it.

“Oh, no. No. We shook on it,” Negan reminded her, twirling his finger in the air and his nose wrinkled. “You can’t go back on your word now.”

“I gave you my word before we slept together,” she reminded him and Negan chuckled before lowering his head toward his desk.

“And I gave you my word that nothing would change between us,” Negan lifted his gaze, his right eyebrow arching while he stared out at her. “So why don’t you trust me and realize it’s okay? I wouldn’t put you in a situation that was bad.”

“Are you sure?” she made sure that he still wanted her to come to his home to be near his wife after everything that happened. “I just don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Bring a video camera and everything will be fine,” Negan leaned forward to press a lingering kiss over the side of her face. It took her breath away when he pulled back enough to stare into her eyes.

“Do you need lights or anything…?” she watched him smirk and he shook his head. “Am I going to know what I’ll be doing?”

“I want it to be somewhat of a surprise. The only thing I need is for you to bring yourself and that camera,” Negan shrugged his shoulders and playfully nudged her chin with his fingertips. “Trust me, you’re perfect for what we need.”

After Negan pat her on the shoulder and left, she found herself still quite nervous about what was potentially going to happen. That night she went home and got everything prepared ahead of time. They had exchanged numbers after their photoshoot night together and on Saturday morning Negan sent her a text message with his address as well as a time to show up.

Part of her wanted to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t go, but she knew that she had made a deal with Negan. No matter what happened with them in between, she had to hold up to her side of the deal.

When she showed up to Negan and Lucille’s home, she found it to be a sweet quaint home. It wasn’t very big, but the small yellow house had its charm to it. Looking at the mailbox, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest when she saw Negan’s last name written on it with paint. Something that Y/N assumed Negan’s wife had done as an art project.

Walking up to the home, she was greeted at the door by a gorgeous woman who seemed to be prepared waiting for her. When Y/N moved up the steps, she finally got a look at Negan’s wife and suddenly felt confused as to why what happened the other night with Negan actually happened.

“You will have to forgive my husband, he had to run off and go get something,” the woman extended her hand out to Y/N and it suddenly made Y/N feel all the more awkward. She was going to be alone with Negan’s wife? “I’m Lucille.”

“Of course you are. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N boasted with a half-smile taking a look over Negan’s beautiful wife. It was hard not to stare into her beautiful emerald-green eyes that had a splash of brown around the center. The way Lucille had her dark hair done looked great on her and complimented her face shape. Both Lucille and Negan were breathtakingly stunning. “I’m Y/N.”

“I have also heard all about you,” Lucille informed her with a big smile and there was something about Lucille that was incredibly welcoming.

“I doubt that,” Y/N snickered and Lucille tilted her head to the side. “I just mean, I’m new.”

“Well, if you know my husband…he talks and he talks a lot,” Lucille teased making Y/N crack a smile as Y/N slowly pulled her hand from Lucille’s delicate grasp. “So, when I say I know a lot, I mean I know a lot.”

“When you put it like that and I think about Negan, that actually sounds about right,” Y/N thought of what she knew about Negan and Lucille wasn’t wrong, Negan did talk a lot. Yet, it made her wonder what Negan had exactly said to his wife about her. “You know, Negan never did tell me what I was going to be doing for the two of you.”

“Oh, how about you come on in and we can have a drink,” Lucille offered, stepping aside from her front door, holding her hand out toward it. “We can get to know each other and when Negan gets back, we can talk to you about everything.”

“Sounds good,” Y/N agreed and stepped into the home that Negan shared with his wife. God, this was going to be hard to not get uncomfortable. After the other night, Y/N didn’t know what she should say. Negan told her that his wife and him had an open marriage, but she didn’t know if he told Lucille about what happened with them. Would Lucille really be this open and friendly about everything if that was the case? “You have a beautiful home here.”

“Well, it’s something…” Lucille looked around the living room after they took off their shoes. Some of the photos on the wall caught Y/N’s attention. Everything looked happy between Negan and Lucille. The photos were nice and everything seemed well put together. Maybe this was a bad idea coming here. After sleeping with Negan and seeing him home…his wife…everything just felt wrong. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Y/N clung tightly to her camera bag at her side and felt her heart hammering away inside of her chest. When Lucille eyed her over and reached out to touch her shoulder in a supportive grasp, Y/N cleared her throat uneasily and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“You got pale for a second,” Lucille stepped forward to brush Y/N’s hair out of her face and the closeness of Lucille felt somewhat odd. “Let’s go get you something to drink.”

Following Lucille into the kitchen, Y/N took a seat at the table and watched as Lucille moved through the kitchen grabbing everything she wanted to gather for them, “So Negan tells me that you are very talented. He said that you really improved a lot of things for the school.”

“It wasn’t that hard really,” Y/N explained, clasping her hands together in her lap when Lucille returned to the table with some coffee for the both of them. “The school was a bit behind on things. I was just able to help them get more with the modern times and ways of things. I’m likely just…average.”

“Oh no, I saw some of your work,” Lucille pointed out, her right eyebrow arching up when she took a sip of her own coffee. “You do have an eye for things. Negan told me you took a photoshoot of him the other day. I have to commend you for that because he’s a pain in the ass to get photos of.”

“He told me that before we started,” Y/N responded with a small laugh. “Your husband has a lot of personality.”

“Is that what we’re calling it? I just often think he’s being an asshole,” Lucille laughed making Y/N smirk at the comment. “He’s amazing in so many ways, but I think you would agree that his teasing can sometimes make him a pain in the ass.”

“Sometimes,” Y/N licked her lips, reaching for her coffee. The way Lucille was eyeing her over made Y/N clear her throat and she shifted in her chair hoping like hell that Negan would be home soon. “You know, I don’t want to be too forward…”

“I’m married to Negan, nothing surprises me,” Lucille waved Y/N on to continue when Y/N paused to take a moment.

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” Y/N commented on Lucille’s eye color knowing that it may have come off weird with her complimenting Negan’s wife after everything, but she couldn’t help it. “I’m drawn to them. They are very beautiful. I thought your husband had gorgeous eyes, but you…”

“It almost feels like you’re flirting with me Y/N,” Lucille’s brows arched and Y/N felt a flush of warmth flood into her cheeks making her look down. “I’m just being a little like my husband right now and teasing you. Thank you for saying that.”

There was a silence that fell between them and Lucille cleared her throat after a moment, “So what are the plans for your future? I assume you want to be a teacher doing what you are, but then Negan mentioned you wanted to build up your portfolio.”

“Well, I love teaching and helping people,” Y/N thought about her future and knew that she wasn’t even really that sure where she wanted to go with things, “but at the same time my heart always strives for more. I’m sure that sounds silly.”

“No, I find it inspiring,” Lucille muttered with a smirk when the sound of a loud car was heard outside. Lucille looked over her shoulder when she heard the sound of it turning off followed by a door opening and closing. “That’s him. You can tell by the sound of the mustang. He loves that stupid car.”

Y/N smiled and took another sip of her coffee hearing the front door open. Lifting her gaze, she watched Negan moving through the house. His dark hair was slicked back and he had on the same pair of sunglasses he was wearing the other night.

“Babe,” Lucille called out from the kitchen and when Negan looked over his shoulder, he smiled brightly upon seeing that Y/N was there. Moving into the kitchen, Negan headed to Lucille and leaned down to kiss her in a long, drawn out moment making Y/N’s feel a rush of jealousy flow through her. Why? That was senseless, this was his wife for God’s sake. “Mmm…you taste like your cigarettes.”

“Imagine that,” Negan grunted, stroking over the side of Lucille’s face before heading to the refrigerator to pull himself out a soda to drink. “Did you end up telling her what she’s here for?”

“Without you?” Lucille retorted with a laugh while Negan took a big gulp of the sugary liquid. “No, it’s much easier for you to explain something like this than it would be for me considering us girls don’t really know each other yet. Well, we’ve been introduced at this point…”

“Might as well hop right in then,” Negan set the soda down and nodded his head in the other direction. “Follow me downstairs.”

“We’re staying here?” Y/N confirmed and Negan waved her on, not really giving her much of an answered. Y/N waited for Lucille to follow them as they made their way down the stairs to Negan’s basement. There was a small entertainment area set up, but there was also a bed set up downstairs as well. Negan hopped onto the bed and curled his arms behind his head, offering up one of his big flashy smiles. “So…”

“You can’t even relax for a few minutes, can you?” Negan snickered after pulling his sunglasses from his face and he set them down on the nightstand. Lucille moved around Y/N and went to the bed to take a seat beside Negan. Negan reached out to caress his hand in over Lucille’s thigh where her sundress was slightly riding up and it drew Y/N to look down. “You know you can get comfortable.”

“What did you want me to film?” Y/N looked around finding it odd that Negan and Lucille both decided to sit on the bed instead of going over to the seating area of their basement.

“I want you to film me fucking my wife,” Negan slid his hand further up between Lucille’s legs and Y/N let out a hesitant breath followed by a confused laugh. “I like documenting my sex and it turns me on unbelievably, but…I get the feeling you would film something…impressive.”

“You want me to do what now?” Y/N snorted, her eyes looking between both Lucille and Negan. She was almost waiting for the punchline, but neither Lucille nor Negan broke. “You want me to film porn essentially?”

“I thought you said she wasn’t all that innocent,” Lucille blurt out and Y/N felt her face flush over. “I felt a sense of boldness when she told me my eyes were beautiful, but her face is entirely too red Negan. You’ve been talking about this for a while and…”

“For a while?” Y/N repeated what Lucille said and Negan let out an amused breath.

“Well, I wanted to ask you before you ever asked me of something, but when you came to me about your photos I figured it was a great opportunity to see where this went,” Negan saw Y/N swallow down and he tilted his head to the side. “We’re not shy people here. Why don’t you set up your tripod thing and get a shot of the bed that you think would be good.”

“I’m not sure that this is a good idea,” Y/N announced knowing that she had felt something toward Negan and if all they wanted her to do was film them screwing each other, she felt like this would potentially hurt her more than appease her.

“We made a deal,” Negan reminded her with a tsking sound. Thinking it over, she sighed heavily and started to set up her tripod. Looking for the best light in the basement, she realized that Negan had no curtains or blinds on his windows so the light was naturally flooding in. “Good girl.”

“She is adorable,” Y/N heard Lucille mutter while she started the camera up and could see the light flickering to tell her that she was recording. The warmth of her jealousy filled her face when Negan and Lucille began to kiss. Standing on unsteady legs, she could feel her body somewhat shaking while their kiss got more intense.

“I told you,” Negan lifted his gaze to look up at Y/N when his tongue pushed between his wife’s lips and it made Y/N look away. “You should see the way she sucks cock though. She comes off innocent, but the blowjob she gave me the other day was incredible.”

Coughing, Y/N couldn’t believe what just came out of Negan’s mouth and her reaction to it made Lucille smile. Lucille’s hand dragged down over the front of Negan’s chest and down toward his groin to caress over Negan’s body.

“I know I was supposed to wait to share her with you baby, but the other night…” Negan began making the room spin around Y/N as she listened to them. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know baby,” Lucille hushed Negan while Negan’s mouth drew over the side of Lucille’s neck. Lucille’s eyes locked on to Y/N and Lucille raised her hand up to wiggle her finger at Y/N to suggest her move to the bed. “Come here gorgeous.”

“I am so confused right now,” Y/N alerted them, licking at her lips as Negan tugged at the strap of Lucille’s dress pulling it down enough to expose her breast. Negan dragged his tongue over Lucille’s collarbone and then lowered his lips to kiss over her chest. When his lips surrounded Lucille’s nipple, Y/N found herself drawn to it. “I thought I was filming the two of you.”

“Oh, I guess I missed the detail that I wanted you to film me fucking my wife while we also fucked you,” Negan slurred, pulling his mouth away from Lucille’s breast. A wicked smirk pressed in over Negan’s features and he teased his tongue out to twirl it around Lucille’s nipple making a soft moan fall from Lucille’s lips. Y/N’s breathing was loud while she watched Lucille stroke through Negan’s hair. Y/N was frozen, not sure where to go from there. “You know the other night you said you were open to being with another woman.”

“This is just a bit to take,” Y/N responded when Lucille reached for the bottom of Negan’s shirt he was wearing to pull it up his torso. “Is this really what you asked me to come over for?”

“I told you we had an open marriage, but you…I’ve wanted to do this with you from the moment I saw you. You can ask Lucille; I’ve wanted to bring you in with us for a long time. The other night, I just took advantage of a moment and I really fucking liked it,” Negan explained pulling back enough to help Lucille pull his shirt from his body. “It’s not just something I came up with after we slept together.”

“Is it me that turns you off of the idea?” Lucille questioned and Y/N cleared her throat knowing that she found both of them to be exceedingly attractive. “I can watch the two of you together if that makes you more comfortable.”

“No Lucille, you’re beautiful, but you have to know that,” Y/N immediately responded, her eyes surveying over Negan’s gorgeous wife. “You both are stunning.”

“As are you,” Lucille complimented Y/N and her smile expanded over her features. “Negan has been talking about you for a long time now and I also find you charming like he does. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I think the three of us could start something together if you would like. We won’t force you into it at all. If you’d rather just watch and record the two of us, that’s fine, but if you want to join, I promise you that Negan and I will take good care of you.”

“Preferably I would like you to fucking join us,” Negan inserted his opinion almost immediately after Lucille was done talking and he slid his palm down to rub over himself again. The way Y/N was looking between the two of them, Negan knew that she was almost to the point of agreeing to do it. “I can see you want to.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Y/N looked to Lucille who nodded and a nervous breath fell from Y/N’s throat. Was she really considering this after everything? Especially with taping the whole thing. “What are the rules?”

“No rules, just see where it goes,” Negan shrugged his shoulders, reaching for the belt in his pants and he began to undo it. Lucille helped him open his pants while kissing over his chest and he let out a proud exhale. Lifting his hips up, Negan pulled the material of his jeans down his body leaving him in his maroon colored boxer briefs. “You like fucking me, right?”

“Let her make her own decision honey,” Lucille hushed Negan, reaching her hand out from the bed for Y/N if she was interested. “We’ll take good care of you and stop if that’s what you need.”

Y/N’s eyes were hooked on Lucille’s green eyes and for some reason she found comfort in the way that Lucille was staring out at her. Stepping closer to the bed, Y/N accepted Lucille’s hand and heard Negan hum in approval. Swiftly, Negan got to his knees on the bed when Y/N approached the bed.

“Good girl,” Negan slurred, reaching his hand out to slide it in over the side of Y/N’s neck. The soft tug of Negan’s hand brought Y/N to his lips so he could kiss her over and over again while his other hand reached around her to palm in over her bottom. Lucille got up on her knees as well and Negan pulled his lips from Y/N’s to move in to kiss Lucille. Y/N’s heart was hammering inside of her chest with the closeness of both Negan and Lucille. When Negan pulled away from Lucille with a wet sound, Negan looked closely between both women. “Now let’s try something.”

Negan reached for both Lucille and Y/N to bring them together. A shuddering breath fell from Y/N’s throat when Lucille reached out with her slender fingers to trace over Y/N’s face. With Negan’s urgings, Y/N accepted Lucille’s kiss which was so vastly different from Negan’s. It was delicate, it was passionate and damn it, it was good.

“I fucking love it,” Negan grunted observing the two women kissing. An excited groan from Negan filled the air as the kiss deepened and Lucille’s tongue pushed forward between Y/N’s parted lips. Caressing over both of their lower backs, Negan could sense they were starting to relax and he lowered his head to kiss over the side of Y/N’s neck. Lucille reached for the bottom of Y/N’s shirt she was wearing and began to tug the material up her body, stopping at her breast area. Negan pulled back enough for her lean away so both Lucille and Negan could work together to get it from her body. “Gorgeous…”

Y/N sighed when Negan kissed over one side of her neck and Lucille peppered kisses over the other side. They both were so different in the way they did things, but both felt amazing. Lucille seemed to pay attention to things that would make Y/N respond to what they were doing and Negan just knew what he was doing. With them working together, Y/N found her body warming up quite quickly. Negan’s kisses descended down over her chest while Lucille worked her way up to kiss behind Y/N’s ear.

“I told you she was something special,” Negan muttered against Y/N’s flesh, his hands reaching around to work open the clip in in Y/N’s bra. Lucille’s fingers swiped in over Y/N’s collarbone, tracing over her body in a tender way when Negan carefully pulled the material from Y/N’s body.

“You were right,” Lucille agreed with Negan as Negan’s lips covered Y/N’s breast, teasing and flicking her nipple with his tongue before sucking softly at her flesh. “Did Negan make you feel good the other night?”

“Yeah,” Y/N panted knowing that it appeared like Lucille was perfectly okay with Negan sleeping with her the other night, but Y/N still felt a little uncomfortable considering she just met Lucille.

Negan’s hand slid between Y/N’s thighs, palming over her mound making her eyes slam shut when she felt Lucille caressing over her jawline with her soft fingertips before Lucille hummed, “Well, we’ll look to top that today.”

Lucille kissed Y/N again with her perfect, soft lips that surprisingly Y/N grew to like more and more the longer they did it. A moan escaped her throat when Negan worked his hand beneath the material of her jeans and her panties to caress his rough fingertips over her folds.

“Someone is incredibly wet,” Negan commented against Y/N’s flesh when he pulled away from her breast with a slurping sound. Managing to push his finger into Y/N’s tight entrance, he watched her gasp against Lucille’s lips and he moaned. “My cock is so hard right now. You have no idea how much this is turning me on. Don’t be afraid to touch Lucille too Y/N. She doesn’t bite…unless you ask her to.”

“Can I?” Y/N asked for permission and Lucille nodded when Y/N reached out to drag her fingertips down the side of Lucille’s neck toward her exposed breast.

Teasing her index fingers over the taut tip of the nipple made Lucille lick over her lips. Y/N tried to focus solely on Lucille for a moment, but her attention was pulled away when Negan drew a moan from her throat. Negan’s finger pumped quickly inside of Y/N, making her arch her hips in closer to him. The way he was doing it made Y/N begin to rock her hips again his caress and Negan growled loudly.

“Damn it,” Y/N cooed knowing that Negan was doing his best to affect her, but she tried to continue to touch Lucille.

Reaching for the other strap of Lucille’s dress, Y/N lowered her head in closer to kiss over Lucille’s collarbone while she lazily dragged the strap down. Getting the dress pulled down to below Lucille’s breasts made a sharp breath fall from Y/N’s throat. God, Lucille was stunning. Another involuntary moan escaped Y/N’s throat when Negan’s caress got more determined and she found it harder to stand on her shaky legs. Lucille stepped forward; her forehead pressed to Y/N’s while she kept her hands hooked over Y/N’s hips. “Negan…”

“Mhmm?” Negan lift his head to look up at the two of them and he pulled his palm from where it was hearing the gasp that followed when he pulled his finger from Y/N’s body. Lifting his fingers to his lips, Negan slid his finger into his mouth letting out a satisfied sound when he tasted Y/N against his tongue. “I love the way you taste…”

Lucille released a shocked sound when Negan quickly reached for the material of the dress that was still at her waist and he tugged it down in a hurry. It pulled Lucille closer to him when he managed to get it from her body. The way Negan ate his wife alive with his stare was something to be admired. It was clear that Negan still found Lucille to be absolutely stunning even in this situation and Y/N was in adoration of the connection the two of them still plainly had when they began to kiss again.

“Lay down,” Negan slurred when he pulled his mouth from Lucille’s to look at Y/N. Adjusting himself on the bed, he pat where he wanted Y/N to be, but when she wasn’t moving fast enough, he pulled her to the bed. The quick movements caused him to fall in over her with a chuckle while Y/N’s hands braced over his chest to keep a small distance between them. Y/N’s heart was pounding inside of her chest when Lucille reached for the material of Y/N’s pants to work them open. “I knew I’d like you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N breathed with her eyes hooked on his. His eyes narrowed and he nodded, a wicked smirk pressing over his ridiculously handsome features. Brushing her fingers through his thick, dark hair Y/N took in the sensation of him over her. It felt nice to be in a bed and have the weight of him over her. It was different than what they had done the other night. This felt more…intimate. If that was even possible. “Me too.”

“Good,” Negan growled, hopping up to his knees again to grab a hold of Y/N’s pants to pull them from her body. He tossed the material aside and stood up from the bed, moving over toward the camera that Y/N had set up to look at it. “Get to know each other a little bit.”

“Do you know what you’re doing with that?” Y/N stammered and Negan gave her a glare when he touched something with the camera.

“I’m not going to break anything,” Negan assured her with an amused breath when Lucille laid in the bed beside Y/N. There was the fear that Negan would mess something up, but it was soon hidden away when Lucille began to kiss Y/N again. Lucille’s palm slid from the center of Y/N’s chest down her abdomen and toward the top of her panties. Lucille repeated her movements and Y/N found herself wanting to touch Lucille as well. She was enamored by Lucille and she couldn’t quite explain it.

Teasing her fingers through Lucille’s long, dark hair, Y/N leaned up to meet Lucille in another desperate kiss. Her palm slid down Lucille’s torso before sliding back up to palm in over her full breast. Knowing that Negan was watching them also added to kinkiness of all of it.

“Don’t mind me,” Negan finished what he was doing with the camera before moving to them. He reached for Y/N’s hips to grab her panties. Her hips arched up when Negan got the material down her legs. Almost immediately after, he moved for Lucille and did the same thing. Dropping down on his knees on the bottom of the bed, he crawled slowly to lower himself between Lucille’s body. The girls were still kissing, focusing on each other and Negan slid his arms under Lucille’s thighs to pull her up toward him. His mouth pressed wet kisses over the inside of Lucille’s thigh before his mouth met her core and kissed over her folds again and again. Y/N went to get up and Negan pulled his mouth away from Lucille’s body. “What are you doing?”

“What you brought me here for,” Y/N responded with a wink and a cocky expression. She deposited a small kiss over Negan’s mouth when he lifted his head enough before moving forward to the camera to pull it from the tripod. She moved to the bed and Negan let out an amused laugh before going back to what he was doing in pleasuring his wife. “I take my job seriously.”

“I like that,” Lucille panted with a whimper when Negan wiggled his head side to side while his tongue and mouth worked over her body. Y/N felt her own body on fire while she watched them together. Lucille reached down to cling to Negan’s hair while he pleasured her and the look on Lucille’s face showed how much she was truly enjoying what Negan was doing.

Never did Y/N think she would be shooting something that felt like a porn, but here she was. Even weirder was that she was part of it. Getting multiple shots of what they were doing, Y/N felt her heart pounding inside of her chest while doing it. Lucille’s chest was rising and falling heavily while Negan pleasured her and her soft cries were filling the air.

“Damn it Negan,” Lucille whimpered when Negan pulled his mouth away from her body. Lucille’s body was shaking and Negan let out a laugh full of mischief when he seductively licked over his lips. “I was almost there.”

Y/N adjusted the camera and set it back on the tripod before returning to the bed. Lowering in over Negan’s back, she deposited small kisses over the back of his neck, down his spine and stopped when she reached the top of the waistband of his boxer briefs. Sliding her fingers beneath the material she watched Negan lift his hips to help her get the material from his body when he turned on his side.

“Get on your back,” Y/N threw out an order and Negan seemed impressed with her direction when he laid down beside Lucille on the bed. “How about you take control instead of letting him have it?”

Lucille gave Y/N a wink, getting up on her knees while Y/N lowered to wrap her fingers around Negan’s solid manhood. Stroking in strong, languid movements while watching Lucille carefully straddle Negan’s shoulders made Y/N smile. The fact Lucille listened to Y/N made her feel better about this whole thing. Having some kind of power made Y/N feel like she fit in better. Negan’s palms squeezed tightly to Lucille’s hips while he lifted his head to go back to pleasuring her. Caressing over his body a few more times, Y/N enjoyed the sight before her.

“Fuck…” Negan groaned against Lucille’s flesh making Lucille cry out when Y/N took Negan into her mouth, sliding him back into her throat before dragging her tongue firmly over the underside when she pulled her head back. Y/N hollowed her cheeks and worked in unison with the stroking motions with her hand while she pleasured Negan. Eagerly, Negan’s hips bounced up to her movements and she could hear Lucille’s whimpers intensifying the more Y/N seemed to affect Negan.

Lucille’s body slouched forward after she released somewhat of a squeal and Y/N pulled her mouth from Negan’s cock with a popping sound when she noticed Lucille shaking from an orgasm that Negan clearly got out of her. Lucille pulled herself to the bed beside Negan, stretching out her slender body while she breathed heavily.

“You okay?” Negan licked his lips in a seductive sweep and when she nodded, Negan reached for Y/N to pull her up to him. Rolling, he used his weight to trap her beneath him and pinned her wrists to the bed. Negan’s mouth collided with hers and she could feel him pulling her hips up to him when he reached between them to grab a hold of his distended flesh. Smacking his hips forward, he heard Y/N cry out when he entered her and his jaw lowered with a growl falling from his lips. “You’ve been a constant source of surprise, you know that?”

Negan bounced his hips forward into hers time and time again making soft cries fall from her throat. The weight of him over her felt incredible while he hit all the right places inside of her. Negan’s gaze lifted to look at Lucille and when their eyes connected it seemed like Negan’s thrusts got sharper and harder. Winces fell from Y/N’s throat and she scratched at Negan’s shoulders hearing his moans getting louder.

“Brace yourself on your hands and knees over her Lucille,” Negan demanded pulling his hips back making Y/N cry out from the empty feeling that he left her with. Easily Negan moved them where he wanted them and when the closeness of Lucille pressed in over Y/N she licked her lips nervously. Lucille was so close to her and the warmth of her body was radiating against Y/N’s. “I think we all know I’m a little greedy.”

The smacking sound of Negan entering Lucille from behind was heard and Y/N found herself in awe of the face that Lucille was making while Negan fucked her. Reaching up to stroke over Lucille’s jawline, Y/N instinctively lifted up to kiss over Lucille’s face until her mouth met Lucille’s. The sounds of Negan’s heavy breaths were heard while Lucille rocked over her with each powerful movement Negan made behind her.

Lifting her hand, Y/N used her thumb to caress over Lucille’s clitoris while Negan thrust into Lucille’s body. When he thrust forward it would urge Lucille’s hips forward into Y/N’s caress time and time again causing her to coo out in ecstasy while both Negan and Y/N worked together.

A whine released from Lucille’s throat when Negan pulled his body from hers and tugged on Y/N’s body to bring her hips closer to him. Negan adjusted and thrust himself into Y/N again making her head drop back while Negan now took his turn fucking her.

“Do you like his big cock?” Lucille purred, her mouth vibrating against Y/N’s lips while her hand lowered to offer the same caress that Y/N had done to her previously. “He might have a big mouth, but he knows how to use his dick well.”

“Gee, thanks baby,” Negan grunted with a laugh, lowering down to press wet kisses over Lucille’s shoulder before biting at her flesh making Lucille purr when he did it.

“So good,” Y/N whimpered when Negan’s hips bucked up harder against her and the tip of his cock was hitting her G-spot in a way that made her cry out. Lucille’s soft fingertips aided in the caress of Y/N’s small bundle of nerves while the husband and wife were drawing her incredibly close to an amazing orgasm.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you sweetheart?” Lucille quickened her caress and Negan rolled his hips faster against Y/N. Lucille’s mouth hovered over Y/N’s when Y/N felt her body tensing up. There was a liquid warmth building inside of her and she whimpered into Lucille’s mouth when Lucille began to kiss her. Y/N’s orgasm hit her hard as Negan continued to fuck her through it, enjoying the contractions that her body did around him. She was undoubtedly loud when she came, but both Lucille and Negan seemed to enjoy it. “Negan made such a good choice with you.”

“I sure as fuck did,” Negan grunted, pulling his body from Y/N’s to enter Lucille again while reaching for her hair to pull her back against him while he fucked her. Negan’s eyes were hooked on Y/N while she attempted to catch her breath. Watching Negan kissing over Lucille’s neck while he had a firm hold on her throat was almost an art piece in itself. The way their bodies moved together was beautiful and Y/N found herself lucky that she got to experience and watch this.

“Negan,” Lucille’s soft cries filled the air and Y/N could see Lucille’s body twitching revealing that she had just hit an orgasm herself and a cocky laugh came from Negan. Pulling his length from Lucille’s body Negan watched her fall forward on her hands on the bed. Her breathing was loud and he reached down to caress over his pulsating cock that was ready for a release itself. “Shit.”

“You like my big mouth,” Negan reached out to smack over Lucille’s bottom and wiggled his finger to get Y/N to come to him when he moved to the edge of the bed. “Come here beautiful.”

Weakly, Y/N lifted from the bed and slid to the bottom of it. Negan reached for her head and brushed his fingers in over the back of her neck leading her to take him into her mouth again. Lapping at Negan’s body with her tongue, Y/N felt Lucille moving in beside her and Negan reached for Lucille to pull her in closer to his cock.

“Share ladies,” Negan pulled his cock from Y/N’s mouth and led it to Lucille’s lips. His head fell back, his eyes closing tightly while he smiled when Lucille took him into her mouth. Lucille sucked over his tip and Y/N pressed wet kisses over Negan’s shaft. Negan grasped at both of them, caressing over their necks while they took turns taking him into their mouths. When Negan’s abdomen started to twitch, Lucille pumped her hand harder over his shaft and his moans got louder. “Fuck…”

Y/N’s eyes closed when the first line of Negan’s release hit the back of her throat and she worked to swallow down what he had to offer while his hips bucked to her through his orgasm. When his body stopped shaking, Y/N pulled her mouth from his body and licked at her lips.

“Fucking hell…” Negan’s raspy voice was even deeper when he saw Lucille reach for Y/N to kiss her to get the taste of Negan’s release from Y/N’s mouth and Negan smiled arrogantly. “I think we could make this a thing…that is if you both liked it.”

Negan stroked his fingers over both of their faces and he lowered down to kiss both of them before laying between them on the bed. Lucille laid over his chest kissing over it and Negan had his nose nuzzled up against the side of Y/N’s neck.

“I’m open to it,” Lucille announced with a wink when Y/N’s eyes met hers and it made Y/N bite into her bottom lip.

“Well, since we’re all about favors…I’ll be okay with it as long as when we do our next photoshoot together…you bring her with you,” Y/N muttered and Negan laughed against the side of her neck before kissing softly over it.

“I think we can work that out,” Negan turned his head to meet Lucille in another kiss. Minutes passed and they laid together in the bed before Negan lifted his head to look at the camera that they still had set up. “That…that is going to be one hell of a video.”

[0idril0]

May I request based on the reblog about ‘new normal’ you just did a much later Nico & Clint, maybe Nico trying to do art again or school or cook or something and struggling ??

Nico’s head was pounding as he laid the last lines on the paper in front of him, teeth grinding as he forced his eyes to focus. For just a few more minutes.

Please.

“F-Fuckin’ finally...” he slammed the color pencil down, scrubbing his aching hand against his eyes until colors swirled behind the lids. The drawing was already imprinted in his head, a wolf head that he hoped resembled Clint’s, surrounded by a multitude of wild flowers. It was more frilly than what he usually did, he tended to gravitate towards reds and blacks and more forgiving mediums, working around the continued seizures and poor eyesight. But it felt important for what he was trying to portray.

His mate surrounded by softness and love in the form that Clint said looked beastly and terrifying.

He didn’t know when Clint had started to think of his wolf form that way, but he hoped it was before they had ever met. Clint had let slip more than a month before that he was scared of being around Sorina and Evans new baby, worried he might slip a little and scar the baby for life.

Nico had immediately told him that it was a ridiculous thought, but the doubt and hesitancy that colored his face when he’d turned back towards the the group of people gathered around the new bundle was enough to send a lance through Nico’s heart.

And the worst part was he didn’t know what to say. He’d never been good with words, and now with the brain damage, he was even worse. And there was only so many ways to kiss sense into a stubborn werewolf.

But maybe he could show him. Clint’s wolf had always been a source of comfort for him, his beautiful russet fur the softest pillow, the warmth he emitted a constant comfort when he’d been too emaciated to regulate his own body heat. A gentle crutch when Nico needed help but couldn’t tolerate human touch.

And the man himself had the biggest and kindest heart of anyone he’d ever met. The fact that Clint thought any part of him could be a danger to his niece was horrifying.

“Uuuuugh....” Nico scrubbed at his eyes again before scratching at his short beard, an attempt at hiding the scars that still spotted his cheeks from deep ulcers that had had difficulty healing. “It’s g-gonna have to do...”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, like it was going to help him focus at all, he scrutinized his work. Before Martin he would have said it was still a work in progress..... but now? It was one of the better things he’d done in a while. He’d moved away from realism when he’d been able to pick up a pencil again, the migraines hadn’t been worth the fight, and paint was more forgiving.

The color pencil was smudged at the corners, the lines shaky in areas where a crisp finish would have made the piece stand out, but the wolfs face was Clint’s, highlighted with yellows like he was basking in the sun, a delicate blue butterfly contrasting with his red fur and half lidded green eyes beautifully.

It was his mate. A giant, gentle, protector of a man that hadn’t moved for 20 minutes when that stupid butterfly had landed on him at last years Fourth of July party.

He felt his mouth twitch at the memory, pulling at some of the scars on his mouth and cheek. His Mate was ridiculous.

Nico could hear Clint’s rumbling snore from his drafting table, the wolf had been running in the woods for hours today and had returned a few hours ago soaking wet and panting. When he’d returned he’d stuck his head into the sunroom where Nico was, lupine grin smug as he’d tried to sneak around to see the drawing Nico had kept from him for over a month now.

Nico hadn’t been able to help his snicker when he’d shoved at his over sized head, scratching in the spot Clint loved as he did so, “Go dry-dry off, I’ll s-show you when I’m done.” Clint’s tail has wagged so hard Nico had been able to hear the thump through the cabin walls, but his wine was truly pitiful when he’d slunked out and flopped onto the porch to bask in the sunlight. The sunny happiness Nico could feel through their bond betrayed Clint’s attempt to guilt him into a sneak peak, and Nico hoped it would be worth it now.

Daniel’s cane was propped up against his desk and Nico rubbed a thumb over the silver handle as he picked it up, using the object just like Daniel had for years before he’d died. Nico had found it tucked in the back of the shop when he’d finally been able to return and had swapped for the heirloom as soon as he was able to ditch the walker.

The initial thunk against the hardwood has Clint’s ears twitching as he comes out, a high pitched yawn following it as Nico shuffled further onto the porch.

“H-h-hey Honeyb-b-bear....”

Clint rolled onto his back at Nico’s greeting, legs and paws stretching to full effect as Clint yawned loudly and rumbled his own wolfy greeting back, squinted eyes finding Nico as his tail swished against the hard wood. “Sugar..” Nico heard the echo in his head, and snickered around a grin at the nearly 300 lbs wolf at his feet. Clint’s tongue rolled out of his mouth in a lupine laugh and Nico couldn’t keep his own smile down, even as broken and ugly as he thought it was now.

“Come-onnn, y—ou goof, you wannned to see -this right?” Nico shook the paper in his hand, backing up like he was going to go inside.

Clint’s jaw snapped shut as his head whipped towards Nico, eyes wide in question now. Really??? Nico could read the question clear as day on his face and grinned. “I c-could change my mind...”

He made to take a step back and Clint whined, stretching, this time muscles and bones popping as he morphed back into his human form. Where there’d been a ridiculously large wolf now lay an extremely large, naked man, toned muscles stretched to full effect as he reached for Nico, making grabby hands as he whined again with his human throat.

“Babbbbbyyyyy.... come back??? Show me here??”

Clint’s teasing grin and wink did nothing to help the burning blush that was creeping across his face and neck, headache forgotten as he swallowed heavily at the sight in front of him.

“Fine-“ His voice came out a squeak, and he cleared his throat, scowling at Clint’s snort of laughter. “-Fine, you’ll have—help me s-stand up...”

Clint’s grumbling turned deeper as he turned towards Nico, grin mischievous, “Like I would pass up the opportunity to get my hands on you...”

Nico grinned at Clint’s joke, knowing the wolf wouldn’t touch him without his permission, skin heating at the thought of Clint’s hands against him today. He loved Clints hands, long solid fingers and thick padded palms that had sooth so much and given him so much pleasure in the past few years.

He groaned as he slid down to the porch, using the bannister and accepting Clint’s hand against the small of his back as support, knowing the werewolf’s strength would be more than enough to catch him even from the awkward angle. His hip protested bending and Clint’s thumb rubbed small circles into his back when he settled heavily on the porch.

“Fuuuuck....” he groaned loudly, careful to keep the drawing turned away from Clint’s prying eyes as he flopped dramatically onto Clint’s bare chest.

Clint grunted around a laugh as Nico landed, sun warmed arms wrapping around him as he maneuvered Nico closer. “Hi Sugar....” Clint nibbled on Nico’s neck and snuggled closer. “You finished that drawin’ you’ve been teasin’ me with??”

Nico smiled as he felt the nerves that had been fluttering in his stomach settle in Clint’s calm presence, and he brought his scarred hand up to tangle in Clint’s hair.

“T-told you, surprise.....” He leaned into the kiss in his cheek, grinning. “Hardly- surprise-you get to s-see it...”

Clint chuffed, and Nico could feel the grin spread across his mates face. “I know but I’m about to explode over here, lemme seeeeee-“ he squeezed Nico and rocked him, the fingers pressed into Nico’s skin vibrating with excitement.

Nico took a deep breath, turning to press a gentle kiss to Clint’s curved mouth. The wolf melted, kissing Nico back gently until he pulled away, his green, dilated eyes following Nico’s as he backed up.

“Love you.” Nico turned more, scratching at Clint’s scalp until the low rumble vibrated the chest he leaned on. “Wa-wha-wanted you to see, h-how....” Nico growled, words stuck in his throat, and Clint kissed against his jaw, mimicking a deep breath, and Nico followed suit, unclenching his jaw to continue. “S-so, I-I drew it.”

Nico flipped back, holding the drawing above them, against the blue sky, puffy clouds the perfect backdrop to the tranquil drawing. He heard Clint’s breath catch; rumble stilling as the wolf froze.

Slowly Clint lifted one of his hands from Nico’s stomach, the other keeping Nico pressed firmly against him. “Darlin’, what... what is this??”

Nico could hear the wetness in Clint’s voice, the thin wobble that meant the wolf was getting emotional.

“You-been strugglinn-since Elena was born, scared you’ll hurt her...” Nico swallowed, “but this.... Love, you wouldn’t budge... you’re gentle, an kind..... hate for y-you,-for fear to keep—y-you, from holding her, only t-thing I’ve gotten from being held—by you is love.”

Clint was trembling behind him and Nico bit his lip, doubt working its way back into his mind until Clint started to sit up, Clint’s body doing the work so Nico stayed glued to his chest, arm pulling Nico’s hips flush against his as he re maneuvered their legs. Clint had reburied his face into Nico’s hair, and he heard the wet snuffle as Clint took in his scent, his mates thick arms holding him close. “Darlin’.... I don’t..... I love you...thank you....”

Nico leaned back against Clint, setting the drawing aside so he could catch hold of one of Clint’s hands, the other tangled in the blonde hair as he rubbed a thumb along a delicate ear. “Love you t-too, Honeybear....”

Nico brought Clint’s hand up and kissed along the long digits, heart full as Clint wrapped him further into his arms. Knowing his mate had understood him.

[justamessatthispoint]

Supercorp Cliche Drabbles 

3. Laughter is the best medicine 

The first time Kara hears Lena laugh it’s over coffee, sitting opposite to her in a booth at Noonan’s and talking passionately about 90’s boyband conspiracy theories. It’s light, lilting and ends in a snort that melts at the edges of Kara’s heart. It tilts Lena’s head and pulls her face into a smile so dazzling that Kara actually has to turn away, hiding behind her caramel latte and replaying it over and over. Even as Lena continues to chat away. It’s short and sweet and rings in her ears for days after. 

The second time is in passing, Kara makes a remark to Winn as they exit the elevator together and Lena laughs as she goes to pass them, the doors closing before they can properly say hi but enough of a moment to savour the glinting eye contact they share. “What was that?” Winn will ask her later. “Nothing,” she’ll reply “she’s just someone I met I while ago.” She’ll explain, to a raised eyebrow and playful roll of the eyes. 

The third is in Lena’s office, over what could either be a very late lunch or an early dinner but was surely the only time Lenas could manage for food between meetings. Kara is so determined to not get sauce on Lena’s lovely white couch that when a stray drop of mustard falls from her burger she’s quick to put herself between the offending condiment and the leather. The resulting stain earned a giggle from Lena, who licks at a clean napkin and dabs at the ugly yellow spot on her favourite chinos. Kara’s still not entirely convinced the laughter wasn’t for the reddening of her face. Kara blushing a deep red at the sudden touch. 

The fourth is by far the saddest, a self deprecating howl as Lena drinks her way to the bottom or what Kara is certain was a very expensive bottle of whiskey. It’s enough cause for alarm that Kara abandons her watchful perch on the arm of the couch, allows herself to sink beside Lena, holding her up and away from the slump she worked herself into. Suddenly laughter sounds a lot like crying. 

Kara holds her all the same. 

“You seem very.. thoughtful today.” Lena comments from her seat at Kara’s kitchen counter, leaning on her elbow and tilting her head onto her hand. 

“Just counting something in my head.” Kara admits, pouring batter into the cupcake moulds. This batch is definitely going to work this time. 

“If it’s how many of my baking dishes you’ve ‘borrowed’ from me in the past week the answer is 3.” She says it with an easy smile, but Kara can see the cracks in it, there’s a redness to her eyes, her makeup is less intricate today.  

“You know, you really didn’t have to stay I know that jack’s-“ 

“- I want to be here.” It’s sharper than she thinks Lena had intended, but she lets them fall back into silence. Turning away from the brunette to put the tray into the oven, saying a secret little wish for these ones to cook properly. Continues to keep her back as she hears a little sniffle from behind her. 

“Well these are going to need at least 20 minutes.” Kara pretends not to see the tissue balled up in Lena’s fist. “You want to start a movie?” 

The fifth time Kara hears Lena laugh it’s on her couch, bright and loud and full of life. And it occurs exactly 10 seconds after Kara presents her with a specially decorated cupcake, a childlike portrait of Lena scrawled into the frosting.

[brelione]

Marvel Movies (Rafe,Topper,Kelce X Reader)

This takes place about a month after this.

Mentions of choking,fighting,Captain America Spoilers,Kelce being a Disney Hoe

Series Masterlist

You could hear the sound of “Lost In The Woods” from frozen two along with the sound of a car door shutting.You grinned,looking outside your window to see Kelce walking up to your front door.He had been obsessed with the sound track since you,Rafe,Topper and him had watched it last weekend.He swung open your door,pointing at you. “DONT YOU KNOW THERES PART OF ME THAT LONGS TO GO INTO THE UNKNOWN!”He sang,swinging his arms to the tune of the song that was now playing from his earbuds.

You smiled,taking out your phone to record him. “Kel,what are you singing?”You giggled,zooming in on his face. “Bitch,you already know!!!”He said it to the same tune,making you bite your lip to hold back a snort as you saved the video to your snap chat memories.He sat down nexto to you on the couch,pulling out his earbuds. “Rafe and Top are late?”He asked.You shrugged,checking the groupchat to check what time Rafe had left his house. “Kind of but like its fine.Its my night anyways.”You reminded him.Kelce nodded,pulling his legs onto the couch and resting them across your lap. “What are we watching?”He asked,looking up to see nickelodeon on the TV.

You smiled,telling him it was a surprise before throwing his legs off you and going into the kitchen to snack prep.He followed you,not wanting to watch nickelodeon. “Hey,do you remember those brownies we ate when we were little?Like the ones with the colorful chocolate things?”You asked,opening a bag of doritos and pouring the chips into a large bowl.His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it,grabbing a capri sun from your fridge. “Debby Ryan brownies?”He asked.You turned to look at him,the empty chip bag in your hand. “Do you know who Debby Ryan is?”You asked,laughing at him.

The realization hit him,making him laugh too. “The girl from tik tok!The meme one!”He answered.You nodded,throwing the empty red bag away.You grabbed the bag of sharable m and m’s,pouring the colorful candies into a bowl as well before bringing them both into the living room and setting them down on the table.He somehow ended up laying down half on top of you,the back of his head resting on your stomach.You didnt even hear Rafe pull up,the door opening with him standing with a paper bag in his hand.You missed the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Kelce laying on you,he quickly covered it with a smile.

Topper was right behind him,you turned your head to look at the blonde.You immediately burst into laughter upon seeing the pink,purple,yellow and green striped shirt he was wearing. “That’s gotta be the ugliest shirt ive ever seen.”You grinned,running your hand over Kelce’s curly hair.He rolled his eyes,sitting on the floor while Rafe put the paper bag down on the table next to the M and M’s,pulling out the contents.Sour gummy worms,dark chocolate chips,werthers caramels and a can of your favorite soda.He held the can,sitting at the end of the couch by your head so you could rest your head on his lap.He held the cool can to your forehead,knowing that you liked the feeling of the coolness.

You removed your hand from Kelce’s hair,putting on Disney Plus. “OOH-are we watching Winnie the Pooh?”Topper asked.You laughed,shaking your head as you went down to the row of Marvel Movies.Rafe had only ever seen Iron Man 2 so he wasnt very familiar with the films.Kelce preferred DC and Topper just sucked.You eventually came to The First Avenger,pressing on it.You squealed as the movie started,excited to annoy your friends.

 “I have a husband in this one too.”You smiled,remembering your huge Bucky phase in sixth grade that Rafe couldnt quite understand.He had only seen your Winter Soldier hoodie so he didnt really have a good idea of who Bucky actually was besides the fact that you loved 

him.During the scene where Steve received the Serum Topper had sat up,glancing between Steve and Rafe. “Am I the only one that sees a resemblance?”He asked.You sat up slightly,Kelce moving off of you so you could turn and look at Rafe properly.

He blushed,turning his head and looking away so you had to cup his face and get him to look at you.He bit his lip slightly,looking down at you.Topper rolled his eyes,regretting bringing it up in the first place. “Steve is more handsome.”You grinned,returning to your place on his lap.Kelce broke into laughter along with Topper,Rafe just a red mess as you continued watching the TV. “Isnt Spencer your husband?And 10K?”Kelce asked.You nodded,still watching the movie. “I thought Spencer was the love of your life?”He waited for your answer.You rolled your eyes. “I can have multiple loves of my life.”You answered,still watching the movie. “Can you pause this?”Topper asked,looking up at you from the floor.

You paused it,a bit annoyed. “What?”You asked.He opened a bag of sour gummy worms,popping one in his mouth. “How many husbands do you have?”He asked.You bit the inside of your cheek,thinking about it.Spencer Reid,Newt,Draco,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost,Peter Pan,Zuko,Prince Eric,Kristoff,Aladdin,T’Challa,Killmonger,Dallas Winston. “Uh...16.”You answered.Rafe laughed,fingers brushing against his chin as Kelce just looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who?”He asked.You blushed,counting off on your fingers. “Spencer,Newt-”Topper interrupted you. “Who is Newt?”He asked.You glared at him. “Do you not pay attention on Movie Nights?Eight months ago we watched The Maze Runner,the handsome blonde boy with the british accent.”You explained.He tried not to laugh at your passion for the topic.

 “Draco Malfoy,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost-”You were interrupted again,this time by Kelce. “The animated dude?The albino one?”He asked.You sighed,nodding.Rafe’s eyebrows knit together,frowning down at you. “You have a crush on an animated albino?”He asked.You sat up,looking between the boys. “You’re gonna tell me hes not cute as hell?Dont even act like you’re not a simp for Meg,Rafe.You too,Kelce,I saw the way you looked at Elsa when she let her hair down!”You reminded the boy.Topper laughed,forgetting that you knew all his secrets. “Dude,you were in love with Ariel when you were 10!”You exclaimed,making the boy shut up. “Who else?”Rafe asked,still curious. “Um...Peter Pan,Zuko-”You were cut off once again. 

“Birth mark dude from Avatar?”Rafe asked.You huffed loudly,stealing the bag of gummies from Topper and eating one. “ITS A BURN!”You nearly shouted. “You have such terrible taste in men.”Topper rolled his eyes.You glared at him,biting hard on your lip. “Get out.”You told him.He bit back a smile,looking up at you. “What?”He laughed.You pouted. “Go stand in the rain for two minutes.”You told him.He shook his head until you got off the couch,grabbing his hand and dragging him to the door. “You’re being mean so you have to stand in the rain.”You told him,opening the door.

He blushed,stepping outside and into the rain.He would never do this for anyone else but the smile on your face was worth it.Rafe looked outside the window,recording Topper standing in a T pose as water drenched his ugly shirt and hair.Once the two minutes was up you opened the door again,letting the wet boy come inside.He smirked before hugging you tightly,getting you completely wet. “TOPPER!”You shouted,pulling off your wet t shirt. “Dammit.”You huffed,pulling off your wet shorts and leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. Dancing in bikinis multiple times so it wasn't that big of a deal but you didn't notice their wandering eyes. You turned to walk upstairs to change into new into new pants while top or just stood a blushing mess. 

At this point you'd forgotten about the movie and you were more focused on annoying your friends.Topper  knew better than to sit on your couch in wet clothes but unfortunately he hadn't brought a new pair to change into. So when you return downstairs in a tank top and pajama bottoms you saw topper in just his boxers sitting on your couch watching the movie.You went to sit on the couch,being pulled into Topper’s lap.When the scene of Bucky falling off the train came along Kelce had become attached,standing up to shout at the tv while you started crying a bit,Topper kissing your forehead lightly. “WHERES THE NEXT ONE?”Kelce asked.You grinned,grabbing the remote and moving on to Winter Soldier. 

“Theres like a ton of movies between these two but like we can watch those eventually.”You shrugged,ending up wedged between Rafe and Topper,Rafe’s fingers twisting your hair and tracing figure eights along the back of your neck. “On your left!”You spoke at the same time as Sam,grinning.Kelce grinned. “So thats why you always say that!”He put the puzzle pieces together.When Nat pulled up you saw the way Topper’s jaw dropped,you smiled. “I know,right?Shes like really fucking pretty.”You grinned,head against Rafe’s chest.Topper had began to doze off when Bucky came on with his metal arm,waking up fully again when he heard you whisper “He could literally choke me with his metal arm.”under your breath.He burst out laughing for a reason that Rafe nor Kelce could understand,plotting to use it against you in the future.

Somehow Topper had managed to fall asleep against your leg while Rafe had gotten you onto his lap,your head in the crook of his neck as you watched Steve get the living shit beat out of him.Kelce was on the edge of his seat,completely invested in the story. “Can we watch the next one?”He asked.You smiled,pleased with his excitement. “Tomorrow morning,okay?”You asked.He huffed but nodded,grabbing the blanket he usually used.Rafe pulled a blanket over the two of you,allowing you to sleep on top of him.The four of you must’ve slept in pretty late,waking up to your 1 P.M alarm that told you to take your daily vitamins.You groaned,attempting to move but being held by Rafe.

You yawned,seeing Topper in his deep,drooling double-chin sleep.You flicked Rafe across the head so he’d wake up,the brunette waking with a grumble. “Rafe,you gotta let go.”You smiled,kissing his nose tiredly.He grinned,letting you off his lap.You shook Kelce’s shoulder as you walked by,your shorts riding up.Kelce got up with a groan,the blanket rolling around his body like a burrito as he stumbled into the kitchen.You got yourself a glass of water,putting your four vitamin pills into your palm.He watched as you took them,grinning at you. “Good girl.You want breakfast?”He asked.You shrugged,still tired.Topper walked into the kitchen,wiping his face of drool and carrying the bowl of m and ms.

 “Hey,do you still have those frozen strawberries?”He asked.You nodded,watching as he grabbed the bag of fruit from your freezer along with almond milk,whipper cream,hot fudge and banana. “Where’s Rafe?”Kelce asked,his question being answered by the universe when the Steve Rogers look alike walked in,turning on the keurig.Kelce put some bread in the toaster,taking out the eggs and a frying pan and starting to make some scrambled for Rafe,some fried for you and an m and m omlet for Topper.Speaking of the blonde,he was pouring frozen strawberries,fudge,banana slices and almond milk into the blender,switching it on and dancing to the sounds of the strawberries being crushed.As the eggs began to cook Kelce quickly handed Rafe his mug before grabbing a glass,putting a layer of m and ms and whipped cream at the bottom,adding two spoon fulls of sugar,some milk and mixing it all together until it was a colorful slop,pouring ice in the cup before brewing some italian coffee to top it off.

As it brewed he rushed to flip the eggs,cursing when he realised the edges were burnt.He tossed it onto a plate,sprinkling some italian seasoning on it and taking the toast out of the toaster for you.He grabbed a jar of your favorite jelly,spreading a thin layer on both slices,reaching over Rafe’s head to hand you the plate.You thanked him,ripping the slice of toast in half.Topper turned off the blender,pouring its contents into a glass and making a huge mountain of whipped cream before sitting across from you.You smirked,reaching your fork over to get some whipped cream.He gasped,jaw dropping as he stared at you. “So you’re gonna put me in the rain for two minutes and now youre taking away my whipped cream?Do you wanna fight?”He asked,leaning forward.

You used your fork,knocking over the mountain of whipped cream before getting up and running down the hall.He ran after you,grabbing you by your wrist and pinning you against the wall of the guest room,panting.You two stared at eachother for a while,his bare chest pressed against you.His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips,leaning down so his forehead was pressed against yours.So much was happening at once,you couldnt even comprehend it.But then from the kitchen you heard an argument starting,Topper letting go of your wrists as they two of you went back to the kitchen. “The third one is the best!” “FUCK YOU IN THE ASS,BITCH!”You walked in,looking between the two boys. 

“What is going on?”You asked.Kelce looked over at you,spatula in hand. “Which Descendants film is better?Two or Three?”He asked.You shook your head,sitting back down to eat your toast. “Fuck-dammit,Topper!You made my toast untoast!”You exclaimed,waving the uncrunchy bread.Kelce frowned,eyes softening. “Do you want me to make you more?”He asked.You shook your head. “No,its fine,Kelce.”You grinned,taking a sip of your coffee.It was sweet and creamy and pretty good,somehow Kelce always made the best coffee no matter what he put in it.Rafe looked between you and Topper,sensing that something had happened in the room.He hoped that Topper wouldnt intentionally hurt him like that,hoping Kelce wouldnt either.A plate of scrambled eggs was put in front of Rafe along with a bottle of barbecue sauce,making you stare at him in disgust. “I cant believe you put barbecue sauce on your eggs.”You shook your head,taking a bite of the toast and getting excited when you heard a crunch. “Oh-hey,dont worry!It didnt untoast”You grinned,enjoying it.

@sexytholland​ @28cnn​  @popcrone818​ @fttayla​ @cherryobx​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @drewstarkeyobx​ @poguestyleskye​ @judayyyw​ @jjtheangel​  @outerbongs​  @copper-boom​ 

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[internalsealpanic]

Do It Yourself Hauntings

Summary: You and Terry get extremely bored while on a group date as you walk through a haunted house. Terry has a brilliant idea that’s sure to chase away your boredom. 

masterlist

a/n: Guess who is flagrantly avoiding homework to write a fic? So this is Cat!Reader x Terry McGinnis. Reader is still as gender neutral as I can make them so I went with the name ‘Stray’. A tid bit I could not write in organically is that reader is painfully shy in their civilian identity but has little to no inhibitions when in their night time persona. Another clarification is that this is the outfit I had in mind. It was legit the thing I had my heart set on when my lizard brain said Catwoman character.   

Warnings: Adult language, clowns, clownery, and this maybe a tinsy bit spicy at one point (I tried) (kind of? Look, I just don’t want anyone going all mother superior on me. Just in case. ).

You were incredibly, stupidly, magnificently bored.

You shifted on your heels, letting them click and echo trying to distract yourself from the thrum of excess energy surging through your body.

It-It didn’t work.

The clicking only made you more anxious, plucking at your taut nerves like well-tuned guitar strings.

It probably didn’t help that you just came back from a dazzling night of heists and getting shot at. Adrenaline still flowing through your veins like molten ichor. Heart still floundering in your chest as if- at any moment- the cops would come rushing in and you would have to make your daring, if not dramatic, escape.

Between this and the sorry attempt at jump scares the poor underpaid actors subjected you to, your head started aching and your mood plummeted into something vile. Thankfully, your group was none-the-wiser unless all of them spontaneously decided to master micro-expressions then you were the picture of an apprehensive young adult trekking through a cheap haunted house.

Why did you agree to this again?

Pulse still pounding loudly in your ears and content with letting the others have their fun, you silently fall into the back of the group. There was a higher chance that you would encounter the cringe-inducing scares but you weren’t too concerned. Nope. You were more worried about the very real possibility that you might deck Nelson or Chelsea or Blade or whoever the fuck decided that girls need to play scared to make guys feel cool. Ok, yeah, the last one.

When Chelsea did another ill-timed flinch, scrabbling for Nelson’s arm, and Nelson ate it up, you swore your eyes would roll their way out of their sockets. Whoever popularized this needed to be shot. Twice.

There was always a possibility that they weren’t faking it, that they were genuinely terrified but you highly doubted it considering if anything actually scary happened, Nelson would be the first one to run.

Neck deep in your musings, you hadn’t noticed as Terry slowed to keep pace with you. He leaned down close enough to brush his lips against your skin and blew a light gust into your ear.  You jumped clutching your ear feeling the heat spread through your body. You twitched away. The memory of his lips against your ear making your stomach dance. Your skin prickled with curiosity-

 You glowered at him. You prayed that the embarrassment plain on your body language did not dampen the venom in your eyes.

“Told ya I could be scary,”

He winked.

You sighed.

Of course, he hadn’t let that go.

You rolled your head to the side and shrank into your puffy leather jacket trying to hide the bright flush of your cheeks. From the absolutely smarmy grin he gave you, he was enjoying this. Was this payback? It was probably payback. Payback for all the slag you said over the comms, the flirty little touches, or all the little kisses you dealt him every time you encountered him in the field.

Here’s a novel concept! Maybe don’t dish out what you can’t take.

“Compared to this place? Yeah,”

“Ouch, what’s got you in a mood?”

You leveled him a look. Terry leveled you with his own. You tilted your head ever so slightly to show the bruise blooming on your collar bone. He winced. His jaw clenched.  You instantly regretted showing him when his brows were carved with guilt. Normally, you liked looking at Terry. Easy on the eyes kind of handsome. He only looked punchable in the Batsuit. But you could never stand the guilt and worry on his face, especially when you were the cause. It wasn’t even his fault. You took the blow knowing your armor wasn’t quite as enforced. That was on you.

You sucked in a breath and rolled your shoulders contorting yourself away from the ever-present need to apologize. Instead, you waved your hand vaguely at the cheaply constructed haunted house. “Admit it, this place is-” 

“isn’t that-” He looked around rubbing the back of his neck. “-bad?”

“Terry, the scariest thing about this place is how many credits I wasted,” you deadpanned looking down at your, now, lighter wallet. It wasn’t physically lighter but you were a drama queen and you had a point to make.

Terry chuckled at your antics and rolled his eyes. “It’s got its charms,” You raised your brow and crossed your arms. His shoulders slumped then straightened, a teasing quirk to his lip curling.   “Still better than doing that family studies paper,”

Ok, that you could agree on.

The rest of the walk was marginally bearable with you and Terry providing quiet commentary on each scare. It was hard to hold back laughter. Your body shook, nearly falling into a giggle fit several times. You got dirty looks from the others several times for the transgression of ‘ruining’ the mood.  You were a little impressed that they had managed to make a mood for you to ruin. After all, what’s more romantic than zombie clowns and warehouses?

 Your sides ached. You really wanted to just let out a laugh, a real full belly laugh but you hated your laugh. Terry, you thought, was aware of your broken plate laugh. Why did he keep trying to draw it out?

Your group made it into a large clearing. Your anxiety immediately ratcheted up with the wide-open space but relaxed after scanning the room. There was nowhere to put

Creaking and scraping of old rusty metals resonated in every corner.

Terry nudged you and pointed upward, directing your attention to the silhouette moving around in the rafters.

Your heart stopped momentarily but picked back up again as soon as you saw the graceless way the figure moved around.

A clown covered in gore and shards of metal jumped down from the rafters landing in the middle of your ragtag group. You scattered. You heard a few gasps. You even saw Nelson flinch. You took some petty satisfaction in being right.

You yawned less concerned with the crazy act he was putting on and more with how the hell he hasn’t landed on a single patron. You made your boredom plain. You’ve seen crazy.  Your sides throbbed in protest of the reminder.

You looked down to distract yourself only to be met with the sight of floppy red clown shoes. Genuine, floppy, red clown shoes. You pinched the bridge of your nose and bit your lip. Your body trembled from trying to contain the laughter roiling in your stomach.

The man continued to spout something about keeping you all here for his entertainment. Blah. Blah. You crossed your ankles and leaned ever so  slightly into Terry’s space, cocking your head to the opposite side.  You yawned into your hand muffling the sound as best you could in an attempt to be polite. Terry had other ideas.

Terry leaned down into your ear making an exaggerated snoring sound.  An ugly snort tore its way out of your nostrils loud enough to be heard over the clown’s overly dramatic soliloquy. You felt everyone’s eyes on you. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stifle the onslaught of snorts rising up from your chest. You narrowed your eyes at Terry who, at the moment, was also fighting his own fit of laughter. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you, in solidarity, tried not to laugh too hard at the expense of the wannabe Shakespeare actor.

You kind of felt bad.

Maybe.

Ok, you did. But not nearly enough to actually stop laughing. In your defense, Ace had more acting chops than this guy. But kudos, he was really into the bit.

He lunged at the two of you, fuming with smoke coming out of his ears. Terry grabbed you pressing you to his side and wrapping a protective arm around you. You let out an embarrassing little squeak. You witnessed as he cataloged it into the ‘stuff y/n is never gonna live down’ part of his brain. ‘Cute’ he mouthed silently. You cursed yourself. You turned to cuss at Terry-

The clown lunged at you again, murderous intent plain as day on his face. He snarled as you two dodged him easily with a quick sidestep. In the corner of your eyes, you could see the other actors look on in bewilderment.  One of them shook her head clearly exasperated. Ok, so you unintentionally pissed off one of the actors. Great. Now, what?

The man lunged for you again. Dodging gracefully, you two turned on your heels and bolted leading him away from the group. You could hear the group collectively cheering him on behind you as you made your escape.

Technically, you could just knock him out and maybe go back to the group. One of you was the goddamn Batman while the other was Stray, thief extraordinaire, after all. But between the gasp of laughter and the playful grin stretching across Terry’s face like hell that was happening.

You two ducked into a corner tired and panting. You press yourself against the cool metal of the wall with Terry shielding you from view.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,”  You whisper, shrinking into your leather jacket feeling keenly aware of your lack of undershirt as the heat radiating from his skin pressed against yours. He leaned against you, closing the gap between the two of you.  His panting breaths fanning against your skin, lips brushing against the bare skin of your collar.  You bit out a curse as the color on your cheeks darkened. You swallowed a lump, heart floundering again. You felt him smile against your skin.

You like to say it was anger that flared up in you. You really would but the heat suffusing in your body said otherwise. You pushed at him weakly. “We have to get back,”

Terry stepped back giving you space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“You sure you want to? Bozo is still looking for us. That and you’ll probably still be bored,”

You tapped your foot and tilted your head considering it. You looked into his face searching for something. You sigh inwardly. “Yeah, no. I really don’t wanna go back. The scariest thing is still the amount of money we wasted and I have yet to be scared shitless,”

He smiled at you victoriously. “I have an idea,”

You blinked at him.“Ok, great job! Now, I’m pissing myself with fear,” You teased. You weren’t a fan of Terry’s ideas half the time but hell if they weren’t entertaining.

Terry rolled his eyes at you holding out his hand. “You brought your goggles, right?”

“McGinnis, I didn’t exactly have time to go home and-” You stilled, feeling his eyes trail down your chest before darting back up. Normally, when you were in costume, you left the zipper of your jacket open showing tantalizing glimpses of your soft flesh. Terry was absolutely not opposed to your costume choice unless you were in danger which was rare (thank you very much). This was what led to your current blushing predicament not that the other aspects of your costume were any less complementary. You sighed inwardly before stammering out “Yeah, I have my goggles,”  Fishing them out of an inner pocket of your jacket, you waved them around half-heartedly. 

“Schway! Come on follow me,” He said grabbing your wrist before you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

You rounded a couple of corners before stopping at a beam. He looked from left to right brow furrowed. He tapped his foot twice then somehow decided to go left. How the hell Terry managed to find his way around in the dark was a complete mystery to you. Your first guess is echolocation but the second, more logical guess, was that Bruce was a paranoid old man. Like a normal human, you were entirely dependent on the night vision mode of your goggles. 

You stopped when Terry stretched his arm out in front of you. You squinted seeing another group of bored-looking patrons. You turn to Terry who was looking at them and seemingly analyzing the group and it clicked.

“Oh,” you whispered quietly as you understood what he was planning. He threw you a playful smirk knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist this golden opportunity to fuck around.

“I would like to go on record and say this is a terrible idea,”

“And yet you’re going along with it,”

You were about to protest but couldn’t really think of a good defense.

“You know, if you really wanted to scare them you could have just dressed up as old Brucie,” 

You huffed and put your goggles on before crouching low. He followed suit bending low.

“Weeell, sorry. Your gremlin mug was the best I could do on short notice,”

You made a face of mock hurt which made him chuckle. “Am not,”

As it turns out, two vigilantes well-trained in sneaking around are actually pretty good at scaring people. In the last 5 minutes, you’ve scared four different groups of patrons all with varying reactions but all equally hilarious.

“Yanno we could probably scare Nelson,” Terry hummed innocently trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. You answered him with a vicious smile. “You just want payback for the prank he pulled yesterday,”

“And you want to see him  piss himself,”

This was true.

“Ok, fine. What’s the game plan?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Terry chuckled knowing he’s got you hook, line, and sinker. You scoffed but let him lean closer to you to whisper his maniacal scheme.

“If this works I am going to cry-” You crowed ducking behind another row of boxes as you quietly trailed your group.  “-Hand me your jacket,”

Completely avoiding your outstretched hands, he draped his jacket over you like a strange leather veil before giving your head a quick pat. “Hope you brought tissues then,”

“Like slag, this is gonna work,” You said quirking your brow and tilting your head to make the doubt plain on your face. Even with your vision impaired by your new headpiece, you could still admire how nice he looked in his shirt. Not that you let it show. You hoped.

“Just watch and learn nonbeliever,”

“Oh god he thinks he can pull off miracles now,” You sneered climbing on to his broad shoulders.

“Shhhhhhhh”

You pouted down at him crossing your arms. He shrugged his shoulders, the movement drawing a surprised yelp from you in turn making him snicker. You were about to open your mouth when your smoke trap was triggered.

Ok, this was a blatant abuse of your equipment but who was gonna tell you off? Bruce? Probably but the man was allergic to fun so being at a Halloween fair was, likely,  safe.

Thick waterfalls of white smoke cascaded down from the rafters, blanketing the floor with a thick mist of curling smoke. The group stopped almost mystified by how well-timed the eerie effect was. You had to hold back a derisive snort when they all turned to each other confused.

Because, yes, this is what your hours of booby trap training have been leading up to.

Truly, a magnum opus of spite.

You could already see Nelson readying himself to bolt even as Blade and Chelsea hung off his arms. Petty satisfaction bloomed in you.

Ok, you may be a gremlin.

You threw your voice in a shrill cackle letting it echo and bounce in the room over the too slow circus music playing in the background. It was a chilling sound, the kind that rattled in bones and traveled up the spine. One that you’ve only ever used for pranks during long nights at the lab. You even felt Terry freeze up beneath you. His grip on your thighs getting tighter. How on earth you didn’t yelp or squeak or make any other little noise at that was the true miracle.

“Wha- what’s going on?“  Blade squeaked, pressing into the group.

"Didn’t we just pass the last attraction?!”

“Are you sure it was the last?”

“I don’t know man!”

The group shrank in on itself as the conversation grew more panicked. You felt Terry shaking from holding in laughter. You nudge him softly with your heel. He took a breath and nodded to tell you he was fine.

“Oh children, there’s no need to fuss,” You coo sickeningly sweet. You see them swallow taking in your presence heavy as it was.

“The fun’s only just beginning!” You shriek flicking on the orange lights of your goggles. Your shrill, shrieking voice transmuting over the speakers filling the room.

They screamed, scrambled, and scattered. Your nearly 10-foot silhouette hovering over them. They tripped over each other. Some of them pulling at each other. Some stepping over feet in their haste to get away. Pure terror etched themselves on their faces.

You let them all sprint to exit, watching their forms all disappear before bursting out into laughter.

“Did- Did you see their faces?!”

“Please tell me you were recording,“

“wait-” You choked grabbing for your goggles. You made a show of checking and letting your shoulders fall in disappointment.

Terry looked crushed. A vicious grin carved across your face. “Relax, I was,”

Terry’s slumped against the crate as he leaned back. He ran his hand through his black hair and began to laugh again.

You put your goggles back to your jacket pocket. You clutched at his jacket letting your ugly laugh tumble out of your lips. Terry planted a kiss on your nose making your breath hitch. 

"What was that for?!” Your hands flying to your nose. Your fingers traced the small patch of skin he touched.

“You were just too cute,” He laughed ruffling your hair.

How do you respond to that? How could he say things like that so casually? Does he not know how many heart attacks it gives you?

“Jerk”

“PFFFFT”

“Don’t ‘pfffft’ me!” You bit out, throwing his jacket at him.

“Pfffft”

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“I-”

“Ahem!”

You both looked up to see a security guard and Bozo glowering down at you. You gave them both what passed for a sheepish, but not exactly, apologetic look.

The burly guard picked you both up by the scruff of your necks and hauled you out of the building. He tossed you out back as Bozo yelled “stay out” from the comfort of the guards back. 

“Kick us out yourself, coward!” Terry yelled, shaking his fist like an old man. You slapped your forehead in an effort not to encourage him. Bozo glowered at him from behind his meat shield. Terry snarled. You grabbed his arm to stop him from doing anything stupid.

“I knew it was you two,” Max sighed, hand on her hip.

“How’d you guess?”

“Circus music,”

You looked at her uncomprehendingly before remembering your well-documented discomfort with circuses. You slapped your hand against your forehead. Terry, helpful as usual, snickered at you.

 But before you could throw hands, Max spoke cleared her throat.

“You dumbasses are lucky they don’t press charges,” Max aggravated pinching the bridge of her nose. You had the decency to look a little sheepish at the accusation but Terry looked pleased which earned him a chastising look.

“Sorry, ma’am” You both grumbled as she pulled you both up. 

All three of you walked in tandem.  Max let up the responsible act.

“Not the worst group date you’ve been on, right?” Terry nudged.

 “No, guess not,” You scoffed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Stiiiiill not as bad as that time you got us caught by the Joker Gang~”

“That wasn’t even my fault,”

————————————–

Thanks for reading! Also please do not do this in real life. They will get mad at you even if their haunted house does stink.

taglist:  @batarellabatarella (YOU BITCH I GOT ANOTHER BATBOY FOR YOU), @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Tea Time # 2 ~ Shower Mishap

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

So these little Tea Times were written as little filler-memory chapters to place in between the main story line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N.” Hange drawled. She clumsily attempted to sit cross legged along the dining hall bench, her legs not quite folding correctly. When she almost tipped over the side, Erwin used his quick reflexes to snag her by the arm and place her upright. You sloppily turned your head to give her as much undivided attention that your remaining active brain cells could muster.

“Please enlighten everyone on the shower story.” Her request brought a giddy smile to her lips. Levi immediately cast you a quizzical look, his gaze drowning in beer. Your face heated up like an oiled saucepan but thanks to the excessive drinking it made no difference to your already rosy complexion.

“But it might be too unprofessional for the Commander.” You shot a sassy look at Hange over Levi who was seated between the two of you. Alcohol was quite the bold word choice inducer as you definitely would not have phrased your sentence with so much gusto if you were sober.

“What in the fucking hell  kind of story is this?” Levi asked darkly, his pupils dilated so far they eclipsed their usual silver. There was a preciseness to his phrase despite it being slurred. Indeed, the only soul at the table who knew of your unintentional shower adventure was your former squad leader. Erwin chuckled softly and Mike quirked an eyebrow at you.

“We drink as friends tonight, Y/N. No one will get you in trouble for just telling a story-” Erwin began his explanation calmly but paused when he locked eyes with Levi’s burning glare. It took what was left of his composure to refrain himself from laughing at the tiny fireball across the table.

“But only tell it if you are comfortable doing so.” The commander flashed a dazzling smile before taking a hearty swig of his drink. The man may have been inebriated but he was still so much more put together than the rest of you. Well, with the exception of Mike of course.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it Vivi.” You reassured the steaming man between giggles. You reached up to gingerly pat his cheek a couple times, his glare turning into an intensely childish pout that he would definitely deny later.

“So you’ll tell it?” Hange chittered, practically vibrating with excitement. You nodded lazily, swaying a bit but steadied by Levi’s secure arm around your waist.

“Okay so, it was during my first few months as a cadet-”

↞♞♘↠

You had come to terms with the fact that you were going to be tired on a daily basis. Since you had joined the cadets it was nonstop physical and tactical training that bored into the innermost parts of your brain and body, immersing you in a constant state of exhaustion. Your grandmother’s war stories about her painful life in the military were indeed accurate (well, yours were much less scandalous than hers); it’s no joke how far the organization pushes every limb, muscle, fiber, and atom within your being.

Which was why you couldn’t be happier that you had an hour of free time to shower after your training session before you had to meet your mentor. Plush towel hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner of one of the many hallways of the vast compound and practically skipped into the bathing area.

The steam from the showers was thick at first and obscured the space as you passed through the initial chamber to enter the main bathing area. The only element of the atmosphere that told you other cadets were occupying the room was their loud banter and laughter. Only, it wasn’t the feminine voices you were accustomed to hearing and you’re pretty sure you just heard Connie’s na-

“Y/N!?!?!” A voice shrieked, immediately scuttling to the side upon discovering your arrival. When your vision adjusted to the thick steam, your eyes widened in shock when you spotted Eren's very exposed form through the haze.

"Ohmygodohmygod, Eren I'm so sor-" You blabbed, immediately trying to look anywhere but the boy's nether regions. Before the split second it would have taken to cover your eyes, you were startled by an immense figure in your personal space. The shadow gave you zero time to shield yourself from the Michaelangelo’s David that was possibly the cockiest cadet on the premises.  

"Y/N, I didn't know you were so bold. Come to play?" Reiner cooed, smirk widening as he watched your face heat up to the scalding temperature of their showers. He made no effort to hide his manhood, as Eren did, and actually attempted to emphasize it by propping his leg up against one of the benches littered throughout the bath. You were frozen in embarrassment and as much as you wanted to punch him right in the spot he most yearned for you to gaze upon, you couldn't do it.

"Walls, Reiner do you have any shame?" You spat back, your muscles still seized up with your beyond awkward encounter.

"None if it comes to you, sweetheart." He chuckled confidently. Before you could quip back another response, a blur shouting your name dashed towards you and turned your vision black. The hands over your eyes became your sole protector from the copious amounts of naked men.

“I know you are dumb, but you really need to watch where you are going.” Jean scolded from behind you in a hushed tone. You let out the balloon of a breath you had been internalizing. If you hadn’t believed in angels before, Jean sure as hell was your angel now. He abruptly turned around and began waddling the two of you towards the entrance when you heard agile footsteps circling around you. Jean suddenly halted, the unexpected loss of movement sending you flailing.

“Hold up, Jean. Maybe she knew exactly where she was going.” Reiner purred. You felt Jean’s breath quicken against your ear and his grip on your temple tightened momentarily. You didn’t need to physically see Reiner’s face to picture the shit-eating smirk edging its way into his features.

“If you wanted me, Y/N, all you had to do was ask.”

The sound of wet feet against tile grew closer until you felt unwanted puffs of air leaving feather-light touches on your face. Jean suddenly flung you sideways like a cooked noodle, placing himself between you and Reiner and causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Fuck off Reiner. She doesn’t want to see your tiny dick.”  Jean spat back. A chorus of snickers resounded through the bathroom.

“She was trying hard just a moment ago to avoid the temptation.” Reiner huffed. His arrogance was like a tough stain that you couldn’t get out, no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“Sadly, I did see it and Jean’s right.” You groaned. Your best friend let out a snort followed by the laughter you could feel rumbling from his chest.

“You must not have gotten a good look at it then-”

"If you don't get out of our way, no one will get the minute pleasure of seeing your dick again." Jean sarcastically threatened.

"Please, Reiner, give it a rest." A soft voice pleaded to your right. You recognized it as a familiar cadet, one Jean had grown quite close to.

"Everyone else besides you is uncomfortable here." Marco's even tone was music to your reddened ears. There was a palpable silence of which you presumed was the soundtrack to an alpha male staring contest. Then, Reiner huffed and backed off seeing that the odds were against him.

"Fine, fine. You know you can always call on me Y/N." Reiner chided before sauntering back into the shower.

"The only call he'll be getting is from the infirmary." You grumbled under your breath.

“Can’t keep it in his pants for five minutes can he?” Jean scoffed lowly as he began leading you to the doorway.

“I mean he’s not wearing pants…” You mumbled, still trying to recover from the overwhelming shock and embarrassment. Jean stopped you at the entrance to the connecting hallway.

"When I let go, don't you dare look behind you." Jean warned, playfully swaying you back and forth.

"Okay just let me go!" You sputtered and swatted his arms before he released you.

You fixed your gaze on the tile walls and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Jean, I owe you one." You said, voice regaining its composure.

"Whatever, just buy me some food when we go into town next." He replied. You heard him turn around and begin padding back to the showers when you realized your shoulder was missing a fluffy presence. Your towel must have fallen off during your steamy showdown.

"Jean wait!!" You exclaimed. You turned around and in the waning of your flustered hysteria forgot you were technically still in the boy's bathroom. Both your and Jean's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Shit, Y/N what did I say???" Jean exclaimed, hands immediately flying to cover his crotch. You breathed a heavy exhale, feeling the flames scorching your cheeks once more.

"Dammit, I'm sorry! My towel fell-" You sputtered and cursed at yourself for letting the heat flood your brain cells too.

"Ah! Y/N-" Marco appeared with your towel, only he was sporting his birthday suit as well. Oh, this could not get any worse. You were the embodiment of a beet, cheeks puffing in fear and eyes screwing shut.

"I have your towel, I was going to place it by the doorway but-um-here." Marco gently grabbed your hand and placed the towel in it. He laughed nervously and retreated back into the bath.

You turned back around to face opposite of the doorway and slumped your head into your hands exasperatedly.

"You good now?" Jean checked, slight annoyance evident in his tone.

"No." You whimpered in utter mortification.

“Reiner’s just a dick who thinks that everyone wants to see his own.” Jean said with a roll of his eyes.

"It was an accident, so don't worry. Plus this gives me prime blackmail material." He snickered. You shot him the middle finger over your shoulder.

“How am I going to face anyone in that room anymore?” You groaned sadly, the last three minutes of excitement playing on an endless loop within your mortified mind.

“Easy, if they bring it up just kick them on any part of their body you saw today.” Jean snickered.

“But I saw every-” You started to protest and then gasped in horror. Your humiliated expression deepened Jean’s smirk.

"We'll pretend it never happened. Now please, go to the proper bathroom before you play with the crazy lady. You stink."

↞↠

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hange asked, taking a break from poking at the titan’s dirtied toenail. When her apprentice approached the titan holding area she looked absolutely worn out.

“I have the extreme urge to scratch my eyes out.” You groaned, setting your bag of notes down and crouching in the grass next to her.

“Please don’t, today I need you to help me scratch Bean’s eye instead.”

↞♞♘↠

Levi’s grip threatened to shatter the glass pint as he brought it down onto the table with too much force.

“If we had been together when this happened I would have ripped off every one of their micro cadet penises.” He hissed, the alcohol turning into flames within his eyes.

There was a moment’s pause before the entire squad leader table erupted in laughter. The guffaw rattled the wood paneling and caused confused cadets to turn their heads in shock. Erwin accidentally snorted some of his beer and was now struggling with it coming out of his nose. Seeing the commander in such a state caused the same exact thing to happen to you, the burning of the alcohol hurt almost as much as your stomach did from hilarity. Mike kneed the table so hard that it sent his drink flying at Hange who moved out of the way to dodge it, only to smack into Levi’s chest. The action caused the two of them to double over and flip off the bench which only caused the rest of your table to create a larger cacophony.

Nights spent in cherished company like these were ones you held close to your heart.

[elvendara]

😉Fake Dating for @what-imfabulous-acceptit

I also realized that I used the 🤑 emoji twice so...guess I'll have to do both! LOL

I hope you like what I wrote! And thank you for the ask!

“Come on Saeyoung! It’s just one day!” Yoosung pleaded with the red head.

“NO! Absolutely not!” Saeyoung’s amber eyes were wide with disbelief at the continued bombardment from Yoosung. “I’m not going to let you ‘borrow’ my wife just so you don’t have to face the ‘why don’t you have a girlfriend yet’ questions from your family.”

“Please! I’m begging you. You don’t know what it’s like!” the blond fell to his knees and clutched at Saeyoung’s shirt.

MC was having a difficult time controlling her laughter and Saeran, who stood right beside her, sucked on a lollipop with a smirk on his face.

“Maybe if you put this much effort into actually finding a girlfriend, you’d have one.” Saeyoung tried to pull the shirt from Yoosung’s grasp. Saeran shook his head at the comedic gold unfolding before his eyes.

“Now you’re just being mean.” Yoosung let go of his best friend and fell back, sitting on his heels, rejected.

“OK OK, I’m sorry.” Saeyoung laughed and squatted in front of Yoosung.

“Does that mean that I can take MC to my family’s reunion as my girlfriend?” Yoosung asked eagerly.

“No.” was the firm answer.

“Oh.” Yoosung hung his head again. He would just have to suffer another year of his far flung relatives shaking their heads and clicking their tongues at his inability to snag a mate. He was 22 years old now and still never had a girlfriend, his teenaged relatives were going to tease him again.

“Why don’t you ask Saeran?” Saeyoung suggested. Saeran choked on the lollipop and he doubled over in a coughing fit. Yoosung’s head swiveled towards the other twin. Saeran? He blinked, really thinking about it. Would it matter if he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend? Sure, some in his family would disapprove but so what? It was still better than the alternative.

He stood so fast he inadvertently shoved Saeyoung on his ass. The blond didn’t even give him a backwards glance let alone an apology. MC hurried to her husband and helped him up.

“What about it Searan? It’s just one day. Well, a day and a half maybe. We’d stay in my old room. Mom’s not a prude so she would assume we’re already sleeping together. And it would be better that way, it would save a lot of questions about why we’re not in the same room. I know my family, they tend to get nosy. But you don’t have to say anything. I can tell them you’re shy and very private. They won’t leave you alone just because of that, but you can get away with some one-word answers. It’s my sister you have to worry about. She’ll drill you, so we’d have to get our stories straight, you know, how did we meet? Well, that’s easy I guess, you’re my best friend’s brother obviously. What was our first date? When did you know you liked me, a…”

“Shut up!” Saeran had been taking several steps back until he hit the couch, Yoosung coming at him like a machine gun. Yoosung’s amethyst eyes blinked slowly, his cupid’s mouth turning into a frown, his lower lip trembling. “Damn it! Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked innocently, eyebrows knitting together pathetically above his eyes.

Saeran sighed and looked away. “Fine! I’ll do it, but I’m not answering any questions and I’m not going to be nice to anyone, got it?”

Yoosung threw himself on Saeran and hugged him tight. Saeran stiffened, not returning the hug, but not pushing the blond away either.

“OK OK, get off me!” Saeran finally pushed Yoosung off and rubbed his arms. “I’ll go pack. One day! I’m giving you one day that’s it!” the red head stated as he walked towards his room. “And don’t expect me to change who I am!” he called over his shoulder.

“Never!” Yoosung laughed jumping up and down with joy. His own bag was already packed. He’d waited till the last minute to ask about MC pretending to be his girlfriend, hoping it would help in making Saeyoung say yes. He’d been wrong. Of course, if he had a wife of his own, he wouldn’t like letting her pretend to be anyone else’s girlfriend either. “Oh, Saeyoung, can you drive us to the train station?”

Saeyoung and MC both took them to the station and stayed until the train pulled away.

Yoosung was grateful for their support, but still a little worried about Saeran.

“Thanks for doing this. I know you don’t really want to.” Yoosung said as the train began to move. They faced each other and Saeran had wasted no time pulling a book out of his bag to read.

“Whatever. Why do you even care what they think about you anyway? So what you’re taking your time to choose someone. If you ask me, people are too quick to jump into a relationship.” He went back to reading his book as Yoosung spent the rest of the ride thinking about what he’d said.

Once they stepped off the train Yoosung grabbed Saeran’s arm. “Wait. I shouldn’t have asked you, or anyone, to do this. It’s stupid right? I mean, what you said, about caring what they think? I don’t know how to answer that if I’m honest.” He ran a hand through his hair, the corners of his mouth tightening.

“Look, I get it…well…I mean, I don’t really have family like you. If I did, I wouldn’t want all their unasked-for interference in my life either. If it means you spend a day and a half without having to fend off all those aunts and uncles and cousins asking about your nonexistant love life and trying to give you advice, it’s worth it.” Saeran shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He held out his hand and Yoosung grartefully took it.

“Are you sure? I mean, I can just introduce you as a friend.” Yoosung offered.

“Nah, I’m already in the boyfriend mindset! Hmm, I say we hated each other at first. I would tease you for being so naïve and gullible and you’d tear into me for being an asshole and mean. But we spent so much time together, with Saeyoung being your bestie and all, that we kind of became Saeyoung and MC’s double date couple until I asked you out for real. What do you think?” they walked hand in hand out of the train station and hailed a cab.

“Sounds great actually. Well, I say our first date was at a super fancy restaurant, since you asked me, but we ended up ditching it for a burger joint that had the greasiest burgers in town.” He smiled, really getting into it.

“Love it! I know the exact place too. Jujin’s Bites.”

“Oh yes! That place would be perfect!” Saeran opened the door to the back of the cab and Yoosung climbed in, Saeran right behind him. He took Yoosung’s hand again and it made Yoosung’s heart race. What was this feeling? He felt so at ease with Saeran but at the same time his heart had never raced so fast next to him like this. He leaned against him and Saeran squeezed his hand harder. Was he just getting into the role of his boyfriend? That had to be it right?

Saeran kept talking during the fifteen-minute drive and Yoosung just nodded and made general ascenting noises. His mind was working overtime, trying to calm himself down. This wasn’t real, but it suddenly felt very real. Confusion clouded his thinking as he sifted through his feelings. The ride was way too short to figure anything out definitively, so he tried to just shut it down. Shove those feelings into a box, tape it up, and lock it behind a closed door in the back of his mind.

Taking a deep breath, he allowed Saeran to help him out of the car. The red head then paid the driver and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Yoosung did the same with his. They reached out to each other, holding hands quickly becoming a thing of ease and habit. The door to his mother’s house opened before they were even halfway up the sidewalk. His mother came rushing out and hugged him tightly. He let go of Saeran and returned his mother’s hug. His father and sister stood in the doorway, his sister, Yasmine, arched her eyebrow and gave him a very pointed questioning look as those same lavender eyes transferred towards Saeran at his side.

“Mom, you’re cutting off my circulation.” He managed to squeeze out.

“Oh, sorry, it’s just so nice to see my baby.” Saeran snorted but kept his comment to himself.

“I was just here last month.” Yoosung said.

“And who is this handsome fellow?” she asked, taking a step back and eyeing Saeran up and down.

“Oh, well, uh…” Yoosung suddenly couldn’t lie to his mother.

“I’m Saeran, Yoosung’s boyfriend.” Saeran introduced himself and bowed to the woman respectfully.

“Boyfriend? Why didn’t I know about this?” she asked, steely eyes turning to her son.

“I wanted to tell you in person that’s all.” Yoosung looked away.

“We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of weeks. At least, officially.” Saeran tried to smile but it looked like a smirk and Yoosung was sure his family was getting the wrong idea.

“Yeah, uh, maybe we can talk inside?” the neighbors had suddenly decided to be a bit nosy, and it was making Yoosung uncomfortable.

“Of course, come in come in.” his mom stepped between them, turned around and slid her arms into theirs, leading them into the house.

Yasmine had that look in her eyes and Yoosung tried to catch Saeran’s eye to give him an “I’m sorry” look. It was going to get ugly.

^^

The train ride back was mostly silent as they sat side by side. Sleeping in the same bed had been awkward after spending the day with his family. Yoosung had been right, some people in his family had not approved of two men being a couple, but their protests had been quickly shut down by his own mother and many who supported the relationship. Saeran had been a hit. Even with his dour expressions and curt answers, they had loved him.

There had been one uncomfortable moment when his sister had questioned their relationship and asked for proof by demanding they kiss. Yoosung had turned beat red at the idea but Saeran hadn’t hesitated, taking his chin and tilting it up slightly with thumb and forefinger. He had grazed Yoosung’s trembling lips, and softly pressed against them with his own. A sigh had escaped Yoosung’s lips as he felt Saeran’s wet tongue infiltrate his mouth. His head swam and he felt as if he would pass out, but Saeran held him close and didn’t let him slip. His sister had been satisfied and Yoosung had to admit, he had too. He’d spent the rest of the day thinking about that kiss and wondering if there would be more.

Unfortunately, there hadn’t been, but it had made for an awkward night. Saeran never mentioned it and Yoosung wondered if it had been no big deal to him. He felt sad at that thought. He chanced a glance to his side and saw that Saeran’s eyes were closed. He studied the profile, the sharp angle of his cheek, he still looked like he needed to eat more, but Yoosung knew that frailty was an illusion. He was strong, stronger than anyone he’d ever known. He had to be to still be somewhat sane after everything he’d been through.

He studied the delicate eyelashes, a soft orange that matched his hair. His eyes ran across the smattering of freckles and he ached to reach out and touch them. The feel of Saeran’s lips were still on his mind and he couldn’t help but to ingrain every inch of the soft pink flesh into his mind. He didn’t want the subterfuge to end he realized. He wanted to make it real. Saeran, Saeran was who he had been waiting for all his life. This man, with all his faults and trauma. Love wasn’t rose petals and rainbows. Unicorns and fantasyland. It was reality. The will to be with someone who wasn’t perfect but was perfect for you. The desire to make that person happy and to share their burdens. To walk on solid ground while looking up at the sky and weathering every storm that hit them. Together. He reached out and took a hold of Saeran’s hand and as he watched, those soft lips he had been studying shifted into a smile.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Unmasked

Spider-Man is forced to fight the Sinister Six while he’s sick, which leads to his enemies making unexpected discoveries about their arch nemesis.

Chapter 2

Doc Oc’s notoriously dull and empty lab was filled with bodies and excitement that evening. The Sinister Six piled eagerly into the large room as Octavius dumped a bloody, unconscious Spider-Man onto one of the examination tables. An uproar of cheers and laughter followed.

“The spider is finally squashed!”

“Is he still alive? No way he’s still alive.”

“Heart’s still beating, according to the computer.”

“Who cares? The little bitch finally got what was coming to him.”

“I wanna break his other leg. Can I break his other leg?”

“Now, now, listen, my comrades.” Octavius rose above the group on his metal limbs, tapping a glass against a bottle of champagne until the room fell quiet. “Before we continue, I think a win this spectacular deserves to be celebrated accordingly.”

Using the prehensile pincers at the ends of each tentacle, Otto poured and distributed the alcohol with ease, and everyone raised their glasses.

 “A toast to us, the greatest super villains to ever grace history!”

“Here, here!”

“And a toast to Spider-Man! The biggest, most obnoxious pain in all our asses—vanquished at last!”

Laughs and shouts preceded the communion. After downing his drink, Otto wiped his lips with a grin. 

“And as the leader of this great and glorious team, I am nothing if not giving to my loyal followers. Since you all deserve personal retribution for the many, many grievances this wretch has inflicted upon us, I promise each of you at least two minutes of reparation time to do to Spider-Man whatever you feel he deserves. Once we wring his throat dry of whatever information he possesses, he’s all yours. So long as I get to deal the final blow.” He chuckled. “Well, if he survives that long, anyway.”

“I’ll snap off all his fingers!”

“I’ll gag him with his own webbing!”

“I’ll pop his head like a grape!”

“I’ll zap him ’til his heart stops, then zap it back to life, then zap him dead again!”

“Revenge is sweet,” Octavius concurred, walking around the table to stand behind Spider-Man’s head. The rest of the Sinister Six went silent and gathered on either side of the fallen hero, with Rhino at his feet. “But first,” Doc continued, reaching forward with one of his mechanical tentacles. The tips of the metal prongs pinched the fabric at the top of Spider-Man’s mask.

“Let’s have a look at our arch enemy’s face.”

In one quick yank, the mask peeled off the hero’s head. Six pairs of eyes absorbed the bruised, pale face lying lifelessly before them—the face of their sworn nemesis. A face none of them were anticipating. Gradually, the grins and snickers faded away, replaced by furrowed brows and puzzled glances.

“Wait…” Electro said, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I’m…confused,” Scorpion added.

“Is he—does he look—?”

“Like…a kid?”

Everyone’s gazes rose to Octavius. The brilliant scientist looked between them and Spider-Man bewilderedly, his mouth hanging agape.

“I…” he began, rolling the hero’s head to the side. An ugly gash marred his left cheek; dried blood was smeared all the way to his hairline. “I don’t…understand.”

Spider-Man had the soft, innocent face of a child. It was the kind of face grandmas couldn’t resist pinching and puppies just had to lick. His hair was a wild mess of brown curls that was sticking up all funny because of how long he’d been wearing his mask. He severely lacked the sharp, signature features that defined man from boy. Hell, he even had acne: tiny constellations of it dotted across his chin and forehead. No way was he considered a legal adult by the state of New York yet.

Spider-Man was no man at all. Spider-Man was, in fact, a Spider-Kid.

Otto lifted his eyes to the others. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not him,” Scorpion suggested.

Sandman scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘it’s not him’?”

“Maybe this isn’t Spider-Man,” he said. “Maybe the real Spider-Man sent a double. Someone to stand in his place while he’s busy or whatever to keep us at bay.”

“Spider-Man’s despicable if he’s sending some kid to fight his battles for him. Doesn’t sound like his style.”

“I don’t know! I’m just brainstorming here! I mean, you saw how pathetic he was today. Spider-Man normally puts up a better fight than that.”

“Yeah,” Electro said nervously. “Maybe it’s not him.”

“He was sticking to things and shooting webs and mouthing off just like the real Spider-Man always does,” Shocker retorted. “I’m pretty sure this is him.”

“Silence!” Octavius shouted, holding up his fist. He turned to the large screen on his right. “Computer, run biological and forensic diagnostics on Spider-Man.”

A series of beams and lasers scanned across the hero, gathering and analyzing information. About a minute later, a robotic voice spoke up.

“Facial and DNA match confirmed,” the A.I. replied. “Subject is Peter Benjamin Parker. Born to parents Richard and Mary Parker on August 10th, 2001. Age: fifteen. Address: 42-42 80th St, Queens, NY 11373. Current occupation: Intern at Stark Industries and sophomore high school student at Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

Stinging disbelief pricked all of them. Rhino’s jaw fell.

“Fifteen?”

“Sophomore?”

“High school?”

It was strange to finally be able to put a name and face to someone they had all known only as a masked caricature for so long. Peter Parker. Peter. And yet, the face still had everyone reeling to the point that the name hardly registered. Otto slammed a metal arm against the table.

“Shut up, all of you!” he spat. “Computer, relay back all the biological data you’ve gathered on Spider-Man.”

“Confirmed,” the A.I. said. “Subject’s current heart rate is 52 bpm. Subject’s current blood pressure is the 79mmHg. Subject’s current temperature is 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“None of those sound normal,” Sandman said with a snort.

“Relay DNA findings,” Doc Oc barked impatiently.

“Confirmed. Subject’s DNA is mutated and abnormal. Subject’s blood emits low levels of gamma radiation. Subject’s genome is human combined with an unidentifiable species of arachnid.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped up at once. The realization drizzled over them like baleful mist.

“Oh my god,” Sandman breathed. “It’s him.”

“You mean he’s actually part spider? Gag!”

With a scoff, Electro stepped away from the table, cupping his hands against the back of his neck. “You’re kidding me. You’re shitting me. You’re telling me this is the person I’ve been trying to kill this whole time? This is the guy I’ve been frying like a mozzarella stick?” He kicked a trash bin across the room. “Dammit! I do a lot of bad things, but I’d never knowingly hurt a child!”

“Spider-Man is just some fifteen-year-old high school brat?” Rhino said, pouting his lip. “Geez. I can’t believe we just beat the shit out of some kid.”

“Spider-Man is not just some kid!” Otto roared. “Who cares about his age! Have you all suddenly forgotten how much this bastard has antagonized every last one of us? How he’s foiled our plans and ruined our lives again and again for the past two years?”

Sandman pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. “Oh my god. Does that mean I’ve been beating him up since he was fourteen? My niece is three years older than him, and I can’t imagine putting her through what I’ve done to him!” He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. “What kind of monster am I...?”

“I broke his damn leg,” Shocker said distraughtly. “And I enjoyed it.”

“Hell, guys…this is so messed up…”

Five members of the Sinister Six stewed in a sauna of shame and guilt. Octavius refused to join them.

“You spineless morons! All of you! Our enemy lays defeated in front of us, yet you choose to wallow in remorse! We should be celebrating! Nothing has changed! He’s young—so what? That doesn’t undermine all the frustration he’s caused us, or our glorious victory over him! Come on, now! Raise your glasses with me! To the Sinister Six! Guys...?”

Nothing he said could wipe the queasy looks off all their faces, or the guilty stickiness he felt in his own gut. Everything—all of this—it just felt wrong.

Sandman stood over Spider-Man and gingerly placed his hand against his forehead. It was startlingly hot and damp with sweat. “Computer, why is Spider-Man’s temperature so damn high? What’s the cause?”

A couple seconds later, the A.I. pinged. “Confirmed,” it said. “Subject has a norovirus infection. It appears subject has been infected for at least twenty-four hours. Norovirus is commonly diagnosed as gastroenteritis or the stomach flu. Symptoms include fever, cramps, dizziness, lightheadedness, and nausea.”

A groan swept through the room. Scorpion crossed his arms against the table and buried his head between them.

“He’s sick. That’s why he seemed so sluggish and off during the fight. Because we were beating up a sick kid.”

“Shit. Last time I had the stomach flu, I didn’t leave my bed for two days. He really thought he could take us on in his condition?”

“Not like we really gave him a choice,” Shocker murmured.

“The little punk probably didn’t even think twice about it,” Sandman said miserably. “After all, his dumbass adolescent brain is still developing.”

Rhino sulked. “Yeah, as long as we didn’t permanently damage it...”

The Sinister Six fell into a dreadful silence.  

At that moment, Spider-Man coughed. The group jumped and gasped, automatically assuming defensive positions with their fists raised, weapons drawn, and muscles coiled.

Spider-Man coughed again, his head lolling to the left, but he didn’t wake up. A collective sigh passed everyone’s lips. Electro went lax, his hands falling to his sides.

“So…um…what the hell do we do now?”

Scorpion frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what do we do? We have him here, beat to a pulp. What are we going to do with him?”

For the first time, Spider-Man was at the complete mercy of his most powerful enemies. And for the first time, none of them wanted to chop off his head and impale it on a spike. 

Sandman gazed across the bruises on his face, the road burn striped across his limbs, the bloody puncture wound in his chest. His swollen leg, his black eye, the charred fabric and flesh. He hadn’t allowed himself to take all the damage in for what it was until now. A truly abominable and grisly sight.

“He won’t survive long if we just leave him like this,” he said quietly.

Again, all eyes rose to Dr. Octopus. Otto grimaced between their pitiful looks, their reluctantly pleading stares. Pathetic! he wanted to shout, but he couldn’t find the will to conjure the word—any words.

Soon enough, he felt his own callous facade melting away. He sighed.

“I…I suppose keeping him alive is in our best interest. For now.” He cleared his throat and pulled the goggles off his face. “I’ll clean and treat his injuries as best I can. At least to the point that they’re not life-threatening.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Go—get some rest, all of you. We’ll, uh—we’ll regroup in the morning.”

The Sinister Six exchanged nervous looks with each other, then turned back to the face of the half-dead fifteen-year-old in front of them. Hesitantly, they filed out of the room and up the stairs, shooting a couple anxious glances over their shoulders before climbing out of sight.

The room was eerily quiet now that it was just the two of them. An evil scientist and an unconscious super-child in spandex. The only noises were the beeps from the monitor on his right and the kid’s shaky, labored breathing.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Octavius scoffed. “Of course, now that we’ve finally bested you, this is what we end up with. This is what you are.”

With a thought, the claws at the end of one of his tentacles reconfigured into large shears. The material that made up Spider-Man’s suit was tough, but with a few strategic cuts and snips, Doc was able to tear through and peel the clingy fabric off his body. Now that he was stripped down to nothing but his boxers (which had tiny cartoon Iron Men on them, a sight that made him snort, despite his efforts not to) the devastating harm they’d inflicted upon him was painfully evident. The ratio of undamaged flesh to damaged flesh was sickeningly skewed toward the latter. There was so much to tend to, he wasn’t sure where to start. And it wasn’t like his doctorate had been in medical care.

“We really did a number on you, didn’t we Spider-Man?” Otto murmured. He looked back at the screen. “I mean…Peter. Peter Parker.”

The name felt salty on his tongue. He didn’t like how it humanized him, transforming the famous vigilante from vexing public figure to baby-faced teenager. He’d always dreamt of unmasking the scourge that was the elusive Spider-Man. Now he wished the day had never come.

He left Peter’s side to grab the medical kit from under the sink. Then he got to work, undoing the damage they had reaped.

___________________________________

“Computer, summarize what you’ve gathered on Peter Parker’s personal life.”

Roughly four hours later, Octavius flopped into a chair by the kid’s side, exhausted. He had treated all the wounds he had the capacity to treat, hooked him to an I.V. full of fluids and electrolytes, and was now monitoring his steadily improving vitals. The kid was a suture-filled, burn cream-lathered, bandaged-up mess, but at least he was on the mend instead of his death bed. Seemed like a good time to take a break and do some research on the person behind their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Confirmed,” the A.I. responded. “Compiling personal file.”

A slide with pictures and lists regarding Peter’s life materialized on the screen.

“Peter Parker was born in Queens, New York and still lives there today. He lived in a house in Forest Hills until 2005, then moved into the apartment complex he currently lives in now.”

“A house in New York City?” Otto scoffed. “How lavish. Why the downsize?”

The A.I. enlarged a photograph—a man and a woman holding a bright-eyed, squishy-faced toddler sporting a familiar headful of brown curls.

“Peter’s biological parents, Mary and Richard Parker, died in a plane crash in March of that year.”

A knot formed in Otto’s gut as he stared at the happy family portrait. “Oh,” he said.

“Orphaned at age four, Peter was then adopted by his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker. They couldn’t afford to live in the house in Forest Hills, so they moved Peter into their apartment nearby.”

Another picture floated up, this one of a different couple hugging a slightly older version of the curly-haired toddler. After that, a series of images flashed across the screen—young Peter at Central Park, at a science fair, at the zoo, at home, on the subway, on the Brooklyn Bridge, passed out on a couch. With each new picture, he got bigger, older, but not by much. Sometimes his aunt and uncle were with him. Sometimes he was with others his age. Sometimes he had on glasses as thick as windshields. His smile was wide as the sun and just as bright.

In the last picture, he was standing next to Tony Stark, holding an upside-down certificate congratulating him on his acceptance as a Stark Industry’s intern.

“Barf,” Otto muttered, but he couldn’t displace the warm, uneasy feeling he got when he looked at Peter’s smiling face. He really was just a kid. A young, dorky, stupid kid. A kid they’d beat into the dirt ten times over.

“Last year, May Parker became Peter’s sole guardian.”

Octavius blinked, his shoulders tensing. “What happened to the uncle? Ben Parker?”

“Ben Parker was murdered last April by an unknown shooter. The culprit was never caught.”

Octavius swallowed, staring at the photograph of Spider-Man’s uncle. Then he turned back to the mummified teenager on the table beside him. For an instant, something he never thought he could feel for the spider-themed superhero brushed his heart. 

Sympathy.

With a huff, Otto stood from his chair. “Come along then, arachnid,” he said, lifting the kid and the I.V. stand in his metal arms. “Let’s find you a more comfortable spot to rest.”

It was well past 4am by the time Octavius slumped into his own bed.