#the green thing is a table cloth for a round dining table i saved

[peonypyxels]

nona approves of our thrifty christmas finds

[wzrd-wheezes]

My Jumper! Pt 1: Fred Weasley x Reader

“In her dreams there was a man. A tall man, with a pretty face and fiery red hair. His face sported a cheeky grin accompanied by some freckles dotted across his nose. When Y/N woke up from her nap, she had forgotten about her dream completely. That was until the same man appeared in her dream the next night. And that night after that…”

Fred x Reader Fluff .Warnings: swearing .1.7k words

Masterlist here

Part 2 Here

AN - I really want to do a part two of this so please let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Taglist: (pls let me know if you want adding for future fics!)

@amourtentiaa

Y/N’s hands were clammy as she gripped onto the cardboard box she was carrying. She walked into the house, kicking the door shut behind her and set the box on the floor. This was it. She had finally moved out from her parent’s house and into her own place. New houses often seem eerie and daunting with their plain walls and unfurnished rooms. However, this particular house felt welcoming, like it had been lived in, but not in a bad way. In a way that made each room feel like memories had been made in it. As she walked through each room, she noted bits of furniture that had been left behind, a plush green sofa in the living room, an old closet in her bedroom, and a large dining table in the kitchen. She smiled as she looked around. She didn’t have the patience for flatpack furniture right now. Even magic couldn’t make assembling it bearable.

It took Y/N a few days to fully unpack and feel settled in her new home. She had never lived by herself before and the past few days she had fought off the loneliness by filling her time with doing jobs around the house. Luckily for her, the house didn’t need too much doing to it, just a splash of paint here and there and some new furniture. It was one night when she was laying in bed that she noticed a particularly dark stain on her ceiling. She waved her wand, trying to remove it but the mark was stubborn and stayed put.

The next morning, Y/N rolled out of bed and decided that she was going to try and tackle the stain on her ceiling. She trudged into the bathroom and rifled through the cabinet looking for some sort of cleaning product. As she searched, her hand brushed over something unfamiliar. In an attempt to pull it out to examine it, she sent the entire contents of the shelf cascading to the floor. She winced as something bounced off of her head and smashed on the tiles.

             “How the fuck did that get there?” She swore, picking up a fragment of glass and inspecting it. It was a deep purple colour, bits of what looked like an old label still stuck to a large section which lay on the floor. An earthy yet sweet smell spread through the room. Aftershave. Sighing, she grabbed a cloth out of the cabinet and began to mop up the mess. She could have sworn that the bottle of aftershave wasn’t in there when she had unpacked her things.

The scent seemed to linger in her house for days. It was almost a week later when she got another whiff of it as she lay on the sofa in the living room. The smell was strong but sweet, a sort of burnt vanilla. She didn’t mind it too much, in fact, every time the smell of the aftershave would waft through the house, it would bring a smile to her face. Y/N was due back at work in a few days, so she decided to spend her last few days of freedom lounging on the sofa in front of the television. It was while one particularly bad muggle programme playing that she fell asleep. She was dreaming as she napped, slipping in and out of consciousness as the television played on in the background. In her dreams there was a man. A tall man, with a pretty face and fiery red hair. His face sported a cheeky grin accompanied by some freckles dotted across his nose. When Y/N woke up from her nap, she had forgotten about her dream completely. That was until the same man appeared in her dream the next night. And that night after that…

             “He must have just been in that stupid Muggle programme I was watching the other day,” she grumbled as she lay in bed, staring at the mark on her ceiling that had yet to vanish, “Yeah, that’s it. That’s where I know him from.”

She drifted off back to sleep for a few moments before she jolted upright.

             “Shit.”

She had forgotten that she had her first shift back at work today. Y/N didn’t have a fancy job as an Auror or anything like that. She worked in a coffee shop a few streets away from her house and she loved it. She glanced over at her alarm clock as she stumbled out of bed, she only had twenty minutes to get to work. Rushing over to her wardrobe, she fumbled around in the dark for a few moments before pulling out a jumper. The jumper was knitted and a deep red colour, she didn’t recognise it but she didn’t have time to faff around looking for something else so she threw it on and dashed out of the door.

It was a steady day. Customers came in to get their drinks and then seated themselves at tables to read books or to work on projects or just to relax in the gentle hum of the coffee shop. The sun was beaming through the large glass windows, shining light through the petals of the flowers that sat on shelves. Y/N was leaning against the counter, day dreaming as she looked out of the window when the ringing of the bell on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Her eyes shot up to the person that walked in, her vision was slightly blurred from looking out into the bright light.

             “Morning,” the man grinned as he approached the counter, “Could I have two caramel lattes with an extra shot, please?”

It took Y/N a few moments to reply to him, she was sure she knew his face from somewhere. She just couldn’t place him.

             “Yeah, no worries,” she smiled. Merlin, he was handsome.

             “I like your jumper,” he gestured towards it, “My Mum always knits us a jumper each for Christmas,”

             “Oh, really?” Y/N replied, “that’s really cute. What’s your name by the way?”

             “My name?” he raised an eyebrow at her and smirked.

             “Yeah…” she blushed, “For- for your drinks.” The man chuckled and shook his head.

             “It’s Fred.”

Y/N turned around to make his drinks and Fred moved to the other end of the counter to wait. It was silent for a few moments as Y/N measured out the caramel syrups into the cups.

             “My jumper!” Fred exclaimed.

             “What?” Y/N turned round quickly to look at him.

             “That’s my jumper.”

             “Is this supposed to be some sort of cheesy pick up line?” she raised her eyebrows at him.

             “No, no, no,” he laughed, “you’re literally wearing my jumper. Look, turn around,”

Y/N turned around to catch a glimpse of herself in the shiny metal of the coffee machine. A large gold ‘F’ was knitted into the wool.

             “How the..?” her face flushed red furiously.

             “Where did you get that?” Fred asked, looking amused.

             “It was just in my wardrobe this morning. I didn’t think I recognised it,” she forced out an awkward laugh, “I have no idea how it got there,”

             “Me either,” he smiled.

             “I finish in a few minutes so I can go home and change so I can give this back to you,” she was still blushing intensely, “I’m so sorry,”

             “It’s fine,” he grinned, “It looks better on you anyway.”

 His last comment lingered in her mind as she gathered her things from the staffroom and shrugged on her coat. Fred was waiting outside for her, leaning coolly against the wall. The sun was setting as they walked back to Y/N’s house.

             “Have you just moved here, then?” Fred asked, making small talk with her.

             “Yeah, I only moved in a little while ago,” she answered, “it’s just round this corner.”

 As they rounded the corner, Fred stopped in his tracks.

             “That’s why you found my jumper in your wardrobe then.”

             “What?” Y/N opened the front door and let Fred in.

             “This used to be my house. My brother and I used to live here,” he looked around the living room, “We’ve moved back above our shop now. I do miss this place though,”

             “Ah, so it’s your aftershave that’s stank my house out then?” she joked.

             “Aftershave?” he looked at her quizzically.

             “Yeah, the purple bottle?” she went to her cabinet and grabbed a fragment of the glass that she had saved. She handed it to him and he studied it, turning it over and over in his hands.

             “I have this bottle at home,” he said, still staring at it intently, “I used it this morning, so I don’t know how it’s got into your cabinet,”

             “Oh?” she frowned a little, “I’m going to go up and change,”

 She didn’t realise that Fred had followed her up to her bedroom until she had turned around to grab another shirt.

             “Merlin, you made me jump,” she said startled, quickly throwing her shirt on before he could see too much of her. He just smiled and crossed the room to where her bed was. He pointed up at the ceiling.

             “Good to know that that mark is still there,” he chuckled.

             “I can’t get rid of it. Not even with magic. How did you even do it?”

             “Well, my brother and I own this joke shop, you see. One day we were testing out some products in here and they kind of exploded…”

 Fred ended up staying with Y/N for dinner. They lost hours and hours chatting, later learning that Y/N was in the year below him at Hogwarts.

               “I should probably get going,” Fred said, getting up, “Is it okay if I keep this?”

He showed her the fragment of his aftershave bottle that she had saved.

             “Of course, it is yours after all,” she smiled.

Fred stopped for a moment as he got to her front door.

             “I know this sounds odd,” he bit his lip nervously, “but I feel like we were supposed to meet… My stuff showing up in your house, you wearing my jumper to work and me coming in. It’s just strange, don’t you think?”

             “Magic works in strange ways,” she grinned.

             “I’d really like to see you again Y/N,”

             “I’d like that a lot,”

             “Wicked.”

[out-of-jams]

Across the Board || i || kth

(banner done by the great @kimtaehyunq )

↠ Across the Board ↞ You’d hit a low point in life. With bills piling up and your bank account empty, you were starting to get desperate. So when you got the invite to your oldest friend’s birthday party being hosted at the most popular underground casino in town, what did you possibly have to lose? You took what little you had left in your savings, put your card skills to use, and entered a private blackjack game.

And you’d won. And went back for more, and more, and more.

Until you lost.

And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Genre: Set in the Roaring 20s! Gambling. Mature themes. Mafia!au. Mafia Don!Taehyung. Violence. Law breaking. Alcohol use. Death of minor characters. Explicit language. Enemies to lovers. Short series. 18+

                              || Next | Masterlist | |

Danger.

It was a word right up there alongside the definition for the term “stupidity.” While not next to each other in the dictionary, they were close enough that your brain was unable to pick out the subtle differences. Perhaps you’d just always had a habit for screwing your life up, or maybe it was just genetics. Who knew?

You should have listened to the warnings, should have stopped yourself before you got in too deep. Hell, you should have done a lot of things. But you had no one to blame for your current situation except for yourself. However, if you’d learned anything throughout your twenty-two short years of life, it was that life lessons didn’t mean jack if you didn’t get yourself into messes into the first place.

Though staring down the barrel of a revolver sure was a funny way of going about it.

The air in the dimly lit back corner room was tense enough to hear the sound of a casino chip fall to the ground somewhere beyond the shut door. None of the six men sitting around the round, green felted table spoke a word. Their attention — and yours, consequently — was fixed on the single man in the room who barely even batted an eye at the clear panic evident on your face.

He sat on the opposite side of you; the scowl pulling down his bow shaped lips and the narrowing of his fierce gaze had fear chilling your veins. That man was much like an exotic animal; beautiful beyond belief, but dangerous right beneath the surface. A carnivore staring down his prey. The single light above the table threw his shadow against the wall as he casually aimed his pistol right between your eyes.

“You were saying, dollface?”

His neatly parted, straight black hair fell across his face when he leaned forward as if the next words out of your mouth would seal your fate. Not that the thought of having to have your blood cleaned from the expensive carpet beneath his expensive shoes seemed to bother him in the slightest. In fact, he’d look almost bored if it weren’t for the dangerous gleam behind his espresso irises.

“I—” You cut yourself off, swallowing roughly and glancing back down at the table. A depleted deck of cards sat in the center, two hands laid out on the surface. One was yours — a ten of diamonds and a ten of clubs — and the other his. A red ace of spades and a black jack of hearts.

You were out of money.

Having bet more than you possessed, you were also out of chances.

“It’s simple. You owe me money as promised,” his deep, baritone voice spoke up casually over the noise of your heart beating through your chest. “Either hand it over, or you won’t be leaving this room alive. Your choice.”

You closed your eyes for a moment too long to be called a blink, and cursed yourself for ever getting into this situation.

                           One Month Ago

Final Notice of Payment

Ms. L/n,

This is a reminder that you have a balance of $20.54 that is past due. Please make a one time payment no later than—

“Oh, please.” The bill enclosed envelope hit the top of the small, circular dining room table. Or was it the kitchen table? It was hard to tell, seeing as how they were one and the same.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the creaky wooden chair, fingers massaging your temples. That was the third bill you’d come across that morning and every single one of them was the final notice of payment. The last warning they’d give before sending someone to collect what was owed.

It hadn’t always been like that. You hadn’t always been in such an insurmountable amount of debt, not until recently. Two months ago your mother, the last bit of family you had left, died. Passed away clinging to the sheets of the hospital bed she’d been laid up in for the past half a year. Cancer, the doctors had said. From all of the cigarettes she’d burned through in the past decade or so.

Irrecoverable, they’d said.

No amount of “sorry’s” or meaningless condolences could fix the massive amount of money that the hospital billed you. Or the debt that your mother left behind, along with her slim-boned corpse that you’d had to bury in the corner of the city cemetery. Perhaps if you’d known who your father was, you could’ve laid her to rest in the space next to his own, but you didn’t. Weren’t fortunate enough to.

Bills had piled up. Rent for the tiny studio apartment the two of you had shared was demanded by the pigeon-toed old woman who owned the rundown, overpriced building. Her husband had passed away two years ago and ever since then, she’d been relentless. She pounded on your door at approximately eight in the morning everyday, shouting through the thin wood that you had until the week was up to pay what was owed. Otherwise you’d be tossed out onto the street with only the clothes on your back.

Combined with the utility bill and the fact that you still had to come up with the dough to feed yourself, you were trapped. The meagre pennies you got from your waitressing job at the diner three blocks away weren’t nearly enough. Nothing would be enough. Not unless you wanted to sell your body on the street corners in the late of night.

Which you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. You’d be more likely to end up dead in a ditch somewhere with your throat cut than out of debt. The city wasn’t safe for women, less so by those men who saw prostitutes as no more than an object to relieve stress onto. And you refused to become another headline in the paper.

Tossing the opened envelope across the table, you paused when familiar handwriting caught your eye on top of the rest of the mail pile. Addressed to you in a curling script that only ever came from someone who could afford a private tutor. You sighed, carefully sliding a knife along the top to slice it open. A waft of sweet, cherry scented perfume filled your tiny kitchen and you almost rolled your eyes at the unnecessary addition.

Jennie, your oldest friend since high school, always had an inclination for the unnecessary. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold digger for a mother, she’d had nothing else to waste her time on. How you’d even gotten on as friends with such a gap between tax brackets was still a mystery to you. Maybe it was because she’d always used her wealth and status to get the two of you out of trouble. Whether it was from breaking into the school late at night to get wasted in the halls with the rest of her friends, or to get away with slipping things from the corner store into your dress pockets.

She’d always been a rule breaker.

Which was exactly why when you read the contents of the letter, a laugh tumbled from your mouth. It was an invitation to celebrate her upcoming twenty-third birthday in three day’s time. That wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, however, if it weren’t for the location. There wasn’t an exact address, there never was. Just a thin piece of cardboard the size of your hand that fell from the envelope. A playing card — a red ace. One that looked normal except for the center that had the name of a restaurant in the heart of the most rich part of downtown printed on it.

It was a ticket to the most popular underground casino in the whole city. No one knew how to get one, how to get your name onto the list that only catered to the rich and powerful. Located beneath a restaurant, it had grown to be infamous almost overnight since gambling and alcohol was outlawed. Even the coppers knew well enough to leave the establishment alone.

The only way to gain entrance was by flashing a ticket to one of the restaurant staff. That was what you’d heard, at least. You had no idea how May had managed to secure one, let alone enough to cover what you knew would be a large party of her closest friends.

Flicking the corner of the card, you couldn’t believe your luck.

Your mother hadn’t taught you very many things, had been too busy gossiping with her friends over a carton of cigarettes to bother. What she had passed down, however, was her ability to draw cards. To play blackjack with the best of them. That’d been the only thing she’d ever bothered to teach you; when she’d had too many sips of wine and her eyes had glazed over with memories of the life she used to live. 

She’d sit you down and make you memorize the names and faces of the cards until you could count them forward and backwards. Could predict what card would be drawn and when. Where she’d learned it, she’d never told you. But that didn’t matter now. Couldn’t, seeing as she was dead and all.

Grinning, you flopped back into your chair.

Maybe you’d be able to pay off your debts after all.

And you had. Paid off your debt, that is.

After clearing out your savings account of the last fifteen dollars you had left to your name, you’d dolled yourself up and gone with Jennie and her friends. Had left the group of flappers tittering and groaning drunk at the line of slot machines at the back of the casino. Calls of bets being placed, dough exchanging for chips, and illegal cocktails pouring into glasses played as a soundtrack.

None of the card tables scattered across the underground establishment held what you’d been looking for. Neither roulette, nor craps, nor slots. The bartender had been the one to tell you where the real games were, where the cash was. A door down a tiny back hallway led to a room where private games were held. If you managed to win at one, he’d told you, then you’d win not only the pot, but an invitation to come back and play again.

Which had been an opportunity that you just couldn’t pass up. No matter the risk.

You’d won.

And now you were addicted.

To the money, the lifestyle, the adrenaline that shot through your veins like a particularly harsh sip of gin. Which was exactly why you’d gone back. Again, and again, and again, every single week for the past month. It wasn’t your fault that it was so easy. So simple to swindle your way into getting your name permanently written down on the entry list.

Oh, and the men.

It was a different group every week, but they weren’t all that dissimilar from one another. They’d sit there and smoke their cigars and drink their whiskey, all while silently mocking you with their eyes. Like they thought they were better than you just because they had a dick between their legs.

You were addicted to that too.

To watching the way their faces would fall in disbelief every single time you cleared the pot and took their money. And how their voices would raise in pitch with their countless complaints about how some lowly broad conned them out of their pocket change. Because that’s all that money was to people like them.

Change.

They were rich. You could tell by the custom suits they wore, the cologne they bathed in, the way they carried themselves. The money they gambled with always had a cap, a max amount that they were willing to bet. And the games never got too crazy, didn’t escalate once they lost to you. Which was a shame really, because you wanted more. Craved more. More of what, you weren’t too sure, but the high that playing brought only lasted so long until you came crashing back down.

Which was exactly when fate decided to change the routine.

“Here to play again, miss?” Felix, the same teenage boy who always manned the door to the gambling room, asked with a slight tilt of his head. His light brunette hair was tucked beneath a bowler hat, different from the usual fedora. Back to the door, he was standing up straight instead of his normal slouch. And the way his mouth was taught around the edges was out of the ordinary as well.

The boy didn’t have a cigarette clenched between his teeth, which should have been enough to set off the bells in your head. But it didn’t. Because you were too bullheaded, had gotten too cocky in the terms of things.

“You know me too well, Felix.” You reached out a hand to pat the lanky boy on his suit clad arm lightly, a smile pulling up at your red painted lips. “Is the usual table ready?”

The volume in the casino wasn’t as loud either, nor were there quite as many patrons. But you’d just chalked that up to the heavy rain pounding a path into the concrete outside. Though the lack of customers did nothing to eliminate the permanent smell of cigarette smoke that lingered, hidden in the walls beneath the fancy looking wallpaper.

“I don’t know if you want to play today, miss.” Felix glanced away from you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You blamed the flickering light in the corner of the hall for the way his freckles stood out amongst his slowly paling cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. Silence lingered in the hall, drowning in the soft jazz music coming from the band on the stage near the back of the joint. It took the raising of your other brow for the underaged boy to finally answer.

“It’s just not a good day for gambling.”

Now that had you leaning forward until you could finally catch his flighty gaze, voice hushed in a playful whisper. “Oh really, how so? Is there a stool-pigeon running about somewhere? Should we be expecting the coppers to come kicking down the door any minute?”

“No. I—”

“Then why can’t I play, Felix?” You were starting to get irritated. The week had been long and you were ready to forget about it all for the next few hours. Buried beneath the weight of a handful of cards and glass full of gin.

Either Felix could see your growing impatience, or there really was something he was hiding, because he stepped even further in front of the door. “You don’t want to play with this group, miss. They aren’t as welcoming as the others are. It’d be best if you just went home.”

“You ca—”

“And what’s going on back here?” That wasn’t Felix’s voice and neither was it yours. You whipped around, surprised at the new addition.

The man behind you had honey brown hair parted and styled carefully until it was brushed back away from his heart-shaped face. Though some of it still hung in front of a single, dark eye. His other was uncovered, a scar running through his eyebrow and cutting it in half. Everything about him was angular, sharp. From his jawline to the slope of his nose and the corners of his full lips.

One look and you already pegged him for a cake-eater, a ladies man, if you’d ever seen one. Hell, he even dressed like he came right off the front cover of one of those Time magazines that littered the newspaper stands on every street corner. With a navy blue suit and perfect, unscuffed shoes.

“No, sir,” Felix attempted to pull the man’s attention from you unsuccessfully. “The missus here was just leaving.”

The Stranger hummed, tilting his head to study you with those sharp eyes of his. “Were you, bunny? Just leaving?”

You couldn’t help the twitch of your nose at the unfavorable nickname, squaring your shoulders and crossing your arms with a scoff. “No, I wasn’t. I want to play a few rounds, you see, but he won’t let me.”

Perhaps you should have felt bad for ratting out the kid, but you didn’t. Especially not when the Stranger huffed a laugh, a distinct ha-ha-ha! in amusement. Though there was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Didn’t want to acknowledge. “You want to play a hand of blackjack, is that right?”

“Ab-so-lute-ly.” You raised an eyebrow at the man and waved a hand through the air. “I can play.”

“Oh,” He asked, taking a step closer until you had to crane your neck back to meet his imploring gaze. “Playing isn’t cheap.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I can pay too.”

He must have been waiting for that answer if the smirk that pulled at his lips was any indication. And he finally, finally broke eye contact to wave aside the boy behind you. “Well, did the dame make herself clear or not? She wants to play.”

You happened to turn just in time to catch the alarm that flickered across Felix’s face as he stepped to the side to reveal the door behind him. Felix reached out with a ringed hand to twist the brass knob of the door. It swung open without a sound and he gave you a quick, wide-eyed stare filled with a warning you couldn’t interpret, before looking away.

“Well?” The Stranger questioned from over your shoulder. You could smell his cologne now; husky with a hint of sweet orange.

His words were an invitation if you’d ever heard one. And you didn’t want to look like a bluenose, a prude, so you stepped inside without hesitation. Though perhaps you should have taken Felix’s unspoken warning, for you had no idea just what it was that you were walking into.

Inside the cramped room was filled with a haze of cigar smoke, which wasn’t unusual at all. What was, however, was the group of six men sitting at the circular table as you rounded the corner with the Stranger at your back. They were beautiful, all of them. A huge contrast to the usual rabble that came to play. Hell, even underneath the dim light you couldn't spot a single flaw on them.

No one noticed your entrance at first.  

Well, at least not until the Stranger cleared his throat. “Gentleman.”

His greeting sounded like it toed somewhere on the line between amusement and respect.

All movement in the room came to a halt as six men looked up from where they’d been bent over the blackjack table. If you’d been a little less prideful and a lot more careful, then perhaps the overbearing confidence that bled from their pores would have given you pause. But as it was, you stood standing, back straight and head held high. Even while their eyes roamed your figure like tigers behind a cage at the zoo right before feeding time.

A pause hovered in the air, lingering with a tension that crawled onto your skin. What seemed like hours passed merely in seconds before it was broken.

“And who’s this?” The question came from the fella who sat in the chair closest to where you stood. He was turned around with his arm propped up on the back of it, head tilted to the side in curiosity. His hair was styled similar to the Stranger’s, though his was darker and the gel pushed through the strands made it gleam silver beneath the dim lamp that hung above the table.

High cheekbones and skin the same color as molten honey, his jaw worked around a piece of gum stuck between his teeth. A smirk pulled up at the corner of his mouth, dark eyes glittering with a touch of interest. With a black and white suit that complimented the shade of his hair, the man was nothing if not a billboard: flashy. Handsome.

“I found bunny here outside arguing with Felix. Something about wanting to play a few rounds of blackjack. Isn’t that right?” The Stranger placed a heavy palm between your shoulder blades. What might have been intended to come off as comforting, only succeeded in making you feel the opposite. Like you were being put on display.

You didn’t let it show on your face. “That’s right.”

“Oh?” Gum Chewer’s smirk grew broader at that, but he said nothing else. Just leaned back in his chair.

“What do you say, should we let her play?” Blond hair, pink kissable lips and dangerous, dangerous eyes. The slim man sitting next to Gum Chewer was attractive in a pretty way that made you envious of his easy-on-the-eyes looks.

While the question may have been asked to the whole room, none of them answered it. Instead they looked towards one of the men sitting in the middle who had yet to speak. If you’d thought the rest of them were a sight for sore eyes, well, they had nothing on him. How your attention hadn’t been drawn to him the moment you walked through the door, you didn’t know.

He wasn’t even looking at you and you already felt tongue-tied. Busying himself with shuffling the cards in his hands against the green felt table, the expensive looking rings adorning his slender fingers caught your eye. He was what your mother would’ve called a timeless beauty. The type of handsome that meant he could walk the streets of the city in nothing but a sack and he’d have women throwing themselves at his feet.

Hair the same shade as a moonless sky made him look intimidating, like he belonged to the shadows themselves. A straight nose, cupid bow lips and long eyelashes that would make any broad jealous; he gave off the type of power that could make even the bravest of men cower at his feet. The longer he took to respond, the more the room grew still. As if your fate was in the hands of a man who’s name you didn’t even know.

Though perhaps it was.

A muffled thud echoed throughout the room as he tapped the deck of cards against the table once, twice, before sliding them over to the fella to his left. Plucking up the glass of scotch in front of him, he finally looked up. And graced you with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“What’s your name, dollface?”

tagged: @bewitch-me​  @jxngkooksthxghs​   @kaitswrld​  @clarissalance​  @namurkive​ @ifntelyinspirit​  @kotaevln​  @red--aren  @ggukkieland​  @moonlitmyg​  @i-like-puppy-mg​  @aianloveseven​  @drumsofheaven​  @figurativehoe00​ @wonhoandonly​ @wacdon​ @hear-me-growl​ @milaridez7 @1088x1088​ @alana-ba​ @vlntaeg​

[writingsbychlo]

let me down slow (03)

word count; 6723

summary; mitch comes over to see you, and while teh day may not go as planned, it leads to some pretty important revelations on your behalf.

notes; this is a little softer, but its a good transitional part.

warnings; none, really. just period cramps, and all that sucky stuff.

Since that night, your phone had never been silent for too long. Apparently, you and Mitch had a lot to talk about, and a lot to debate. You may have had your similarities, but you had your differences too. Like that fact that despite both him and Stiles being on lacrosse teams, you still thought football was more entertaining, but weren’t actually a huge fan of either. 

You had spent more nights up late in the dark, fingers moving over the keyboards as you talked to him, more than you had spoken to someone new in a long time, and yet it was only ever relaxed and calm. You never had that anxiety you got when staying up late into the night to talk to a boy on the phone, you were just talking to your friend, and getting to know him in a way that you never thought you would. You had each other’s numbers but had quickly swapped snapchat names too, and you almost regretted it when he began to send a lot of long video messages as he told you what was going on at every point of the day, before realising you actually liked knowing what he was up to, even if it was just three minutes of watching him walk through the supermarket to find milk and complaining about queues. 

Those videos had quickly become late nights calls, the two of you video chatting or sitting on a call for hours, until the night was late and you went back to texting, before falling asleep. On more nights than you could count in the last three weeks, you had woken up with your phone in your hand or on the pillow beside you, and had to plug it in to charge in the middle of the night before falling asleep again.

The sex had been ongoing too, the two of you taking every chance you had to sneak around, and every time had been completely and utterly earth-shattering.

Sometimes that included you showing up at the Stilinski household at times you knew Stiles was going out, claiming to forget and say you’d just head home, waving him off like the dutiful best friend on the doorstep before letting Mitch drag you into the house and have your clothes off before you reached the bedroom. Or, it involved that mysterious and fittingly sexy SUV he owned pulling up outside of your house just after your parents had left for work in the mornings, so that he could press you into the kitchen counter and fuck you over your dining room table, before the two of you crashed on the couch to take a break. 

Mitch knew exactly what he was doing, and the two of you had indulged in a fair amount of experimenting. You’d let him blindfold you with one of the smart ties from the back of his closet door that was saved for special occasions, and he’d shown up smirking and pressing a pair of handcuffs into your hands that he’d taken from his father’s office.

Your world had gotten a whole lot bigger since Mitch Stilinski had stepped into it, and it was a whole lot brighter too. It was like the sun had been brought closer just by his presence, he felt like summer; warm and bright and full of promises.

Which is exactly why you felt so awful when you swung your door open, looking at him standing on the other side optimistically, a bright smile on his face as he held up a bag of Chinese food in one hand, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. 

“I brought dinner. I was feeling gentlemanly tonight, figured I’d feed you before fucking your brains out.” You let out a gentle laugh at his words, but didn’t step out of the doorway, your hands clenching around the wood a little.

“I can’t. Not tonight.”

His face fell a little, and you shifted yourself, your face screwing up a little at the pain that spread along your body, starting at your lower back, letting out a low sigh as the worst of it passed, and he raised his brows a little. “Is it because I didn’t call first? I just figured it would be alright because you said you were spending the day inside today, and I didn’t want you to be lonely, and I kinda’ figured that was a hint, which I guess it wasn’t, but s-”

“It’s not you, Mitch, I promise.” His jaw snapped shut, and he looked adorably confused for only a moment, before his eyes moved down your body, settling on your stomach before flicking back up, gaze fixing on yours in silent question, and you nodded your confirmation, rubbing at your lower stomach and letting out a pained whimper as a particularly rough round of cramps set in.

You figured he’d just leave, and so you fixed him with the best smile you could, despite the pain, but instead, he was taking a half step closer to you, the smell of food reaching your nose as the bag rustled, and he held it out a little closer to you, offering it out for the taking. “How about I let you have the extra spring rolls, and I’ll rub your stomach for you. We can watch some movies if you want.”

“I.. um, you know there will be no sex, right?” He let out a laugh at your words, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in a way that made you smile too.

“I know. Periods seem like they suck, and I was looking forward to seeing you anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what we do. We can even watch a romantic movie like ‘The Notebook’ or something, whatever you want.” 

“We can watch an action movie.” Taking the bag from him, you opened the door up a little wider to let him through, not missing his mumbled ‘thank god’, at not having to watch something sappy, simply stepping out of the way as he moved into the house, and taking the familiar path he had learned well towards your kitchen as you followed. 

“Want me to get plates and cutlery, and you can go sit back down?”

“That would be awesome.” You sighed, not even bothering to see his reply before you were making your way back to the stairs and up to your bedroom, the heating pad you’d left discarded on your bed was waiting for you, calling you back to it as you crawled back under your covers, grumbling to yourself as it made your body ache from the change in positions, before you were settling in the pillows and lifting the heated bundle back up to press to your abdomen, a happy sigh leaving you.

“Really bad, huh?” Mitch nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, carrying plates and cutlery in one hand, with two glasses in the other and a large bottle of chilled water under his arm. “I didn’t know if you had a drink but I figured you’d want one.”

“Do you know that you’re an angel? Like a blessing. A saint.”

He grinned, placing the plates before you and taking the bag from where it was left discarded beside you, kicking his shoes off as he came to sit next to you on the bed. Opening up all of the containers and balancing them in the bedding carefully so they didn’t tip over, he listed off each thing he got, your eyes fixed on him as he did, until he was screwing up the bag and looking up at you expectantly as he held an empty plate that would be yours once it was filled. 

“You got all the things I like.”

“Not entirely true, the noodles have peas in, because that’s how I like them.” He held the container up for you, showing you the little green veggies sitting inside, but you took it from him and a fork, dishing some up onto your own plate as you ignored his failed deferral of the claim you’d made that he’d actually put a considerable amount of thought into the meal.

He followed suit, the two of you dividing up the meal and discussing all of the elements until the wrappers and boxes were all tucked back into the bag and kicked from the bed, left to sit on the floor as the two of you settled down to eat, his body beside yours in the pillows, and the remote in his hand. He scrolled through the movie choices, offering you different ones he thought would be good, until you settled on something between an action and a comedy, wanting the light-hearted energy to surround you while you were feeling down.

Once you’d finished eating, he’d cleared all of the plates away for you both, taking them downstairs and discarding of the rubbish too, rewarming the pad that had begun to lose its heat. As promised, when he returned, he had positioned himself behind you instead, pressing your back to his front and replacing the head pad on your stomach, rubbing your stomach soothingly every time you got cramps.

Each time you let out a sound in pain he would press a kiss to your head, or your temple, and mumble sweet things in your ear to make you feel better, and each time you shifted and apologised he told you that it was okay, moving himself to make sure you were comfortable, no matter what position you moved yourself into. When the pain in your lower back became worse than that on your front, the pair of you shifted with his guidance until you were laying down, your cheek pressed to his chest as you lay atop him, his hands tucked under your shirt and fingertips pressing into the muscle to soothe you, chuckling each time you let out a sigh of satisfaction when he pressed to the right spots.

It was in those moments that you decided you could absolutely get used to this. You could get used to affection, and love, and being cared for when you weren’t well. It was in those moments that you decided you wanted to have someone you could lay with like this when you weren’t on your period, when you were just feeling a little emotional, or tired. You wanted to be able to shower someone else with love and appreciation too, you wanted to have someone who woke you up in the mornings with breakfasts in bed, and someone who kept you up late at night to watch stupid movies and share funny posts on Instagram, and or the first time in longer than you could remember, that image didn’t revolve around Stiles.

It was no longer his face that plagued your mind and his name that weighed down your heart. It hurt to know that he didn’t love you, but it didn’t hurt as much as it did. For the first time you could recall, you could swap his face out with someone else’s and believe it.

Squeezing the man underneath you a little tighter, his hands went flat on your back, simply rubbing soothingly instead of pressing into the muscles, and you nuzzled down into his chest a little more, the soft cotton against your skin making you feel comfy and warm, the steady movements of his hands lulling you into comfort and clearing your mind. 

“You sure you’re going to be okay to go in tomorrow?”

You let out a groan, his voice deep and rumbling underneath you, and it had slipped your mind that it was Sunday, and that you still had an assignment to do, your face pressing into his shoulder to muffle your growl of irritation before you were pushing yourself up above him, whining a little when you body flared up with pain again, but he simply watched you, setting his hands on your hips as you sat back on his thighs, rubbing at your eyes and glancing around the room.

“What’s up?”

“I have an essay due, tomorrow. Extra credit boost before graduation, just to bump up my GPA and all that.” You waved your hand a little, sighing out a groan before getting to your feet, padding across the room to find your laptop, and you heard the mattress creak as he propped himself up in the pillows. You considered not completing it, and just explaining to your teacher tomorrow that you didn’t need the extra credit, but the truth was, you did. You knew you wanted this, and once your period passed you’d hate yourself for not doing it just because you didn’t feel great at the time. 

Scooping up the device and taking it off of its charger, you made your way back to the nest of pillows and blankets you had created together. He was holding his arms out for you, the covers moved out of the way, so that you could get beneath them, and you could cry at the welcoming image he painted as you collapsed back into his touch. 

Snuggling back into him, his hands found your stomach again after he had tucked the blankets around you, and you positioned the laptop across your lap, turning it on at the power switch and waiting for it to load up. His chin was sitting on your shoulder, cheek pressed to yours as your head fell back onto his shoulder, and your legs tangled together under the covers. Shifting one hand to his, you squeezed at them in a silent thank you for him being there for you, and looking after you. 

You knew you’d be fine alone, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable to actually have someone else with you, looking after you and making you feel better.

The device loaded up, the bright screen making you wince as you typed your password in, your home screen coming up and you immediately turned down the brightness, rubbing at your eyes now that it was darkened in a hope that it would soothe the pounding inside of your skull. “Can you even see that screen now?”

He meant it as a joke, and you knew he did, but it didn’t stop the sigh that slipped past your lips as you pulled up an empty document to start typing into. “I have a headache, and the brightness was not helping.”

“If you have a headache, are you sure you don’t want to just take a nap?”

“I wish I could, but I want to get all the boosts I can before I graduate.” He hummed into your ear, moving to press a kiss to your shoulder through your top, before his hands came up to close over yours on the keyboard as you typed in your name and the title of your essay, stilling as his hands stopped the movement. 

“Why don’t you let me type, then? You can shut your eyes so you don’t have to look at the screen, tell me what you want to put.”

“Are you serious?” You pulled away to look at him again, and he nodded, before you closed your eyes, feeling like you may break down at the offer, and tapping your forehead against his chin as you leaned in to bump against him in gratitude. “You’re amazing.”

“It’s literally just typing. I don’t even have to think of the words.” You pulled your hands away, curling on your side into his body instead as he moved the device to balance across both of your laps, wrapping his arms a little tighter around you and turning up the brightness so he could see the screen, getting himself ready and giving you a little hum in prompt to begin once he was set.

You listed off the words to him, speaking effortlessly as you moved through the introduction, and he typed what you wanted without complaint. It was when you began the actual study basis that he spoke, offering his own points and challenging your knowledge at times, asking you why you thought something as relevant to include, or what it was adding to the essay. 

The two of you worked in perfect harmony to create the piece of work, and you knew that with his added knowledge and the benefit of having another person contribute to it, that it would be one of the best pieces of work you had ever turned in. You had also never felt more relaxed while working, the sound of his voice as he spoke to you, reading back each paragraph for editing and ensuring it was correct, the rumble of it in his chest beneath your cheek. 

It took longer than you thought, but was more enjoyable than any other piece of homework you’d ever completed, and you made the decision then and there that you wouldn’t care if you were drowning in work for the rest of your life if Mitch, or anyone else, would hold you like this and make it feel more like a hobby than a chore.

Upon finishing it, he went to the effort of printing it off for you, leaving the bed after fluffing the pillows for you and handing you one to curl up with, before he was making his way over to collect the pages from your printer, digging through your desk drawers to find a plastic cover to slide them into, and tucking the essay into your bag, ready for tomorrow. 

You were watching him move carefully, your leg propped up on one of the pillows to ease your cramps, and he peeled his jumper up and over his head, throwing it away to sit over the seat at your vanity. The action had pulled up the light cotton tee he wore underneath, exposing the toned muscles and dark happy trail to you, the path of hairs that dipped down under the skinny jeans he wore. 

You were nibbling on your lip, trailing your eyes over him carefully, moving from his abs to his biceps when he pulled the material back down, and he was smirking by the time you eventually managed to drag your lingering gazes up to his eyes. 

“As much as I truly love the fact that you were just eye-fucking me - big ego-booster by the way, so thank you for that - we’re going to have to save that for another day.” 

You let out a huff, but knew he was right, and instead he came back over to you, picking up the pillow you’d tucked between your legs and laying himself down on the bed beside you instead, getting under the covers with you and letting you shuffle up beside his body. Swinging a leg up and over his waist, you rested your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around your body to hold you to himself protectively. 

“Do you want to sleep? We can take a nap, if that’s what you want.”

“It is, but we can talk for a while first.” You felt around for your head pad, resting it against your lower back, and his hand came down to hold it in place for you without even having to ask. 

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

It took you a minute to think, before your lips were flicking up at the corners, and your hand was tightening in the material of his t-shirt a little, before you rubbed your hand over the spot. Pressing your face into his neck, you pressed a kiss to his skin, and then another, just simple pecks to the space that you could reach, but he held you a little tighter instinctively each time. “Tell me about college. What it’s like, to live alone and be independent, I want to hear it all.”

“It’s pretty fucking awesome. I didn’t get to experience much alone, a lot of it revolves around Katrina. We tried real hard to make it work, at first, so a lot of my experiences are different, because of that.”

“You don’t have to talk about her, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He let out a sigh, running a hand over his face before returning it to your body, tucking it under the edge of your shirt to sit on the bare skin of your waist, rubbing circles with his fingers carefully. “She was a big part of who I was back then, I feel like I’m someone else now. I like who I am now. I dated her for more than half of my high school experience, and the first two years of college. She never forced me in a certain path, but I naturally wanted to follow her.”

“I didn’t date Stiles, I don’t think I ever will, but loving him changed me a lot too.”

“Love has a tendency to do that to you.” He paused, pressing a kiss to your hairline, before taking a deep breath. “College was scary at first. It’s so far away, it takes days to drive down, with all the pauses you take and the sleep time, so, I didn’t get to come home very often. It was odd, not listening to Stiles fall over things, or hearing my dad complain about work. I didn’t get to visit my mom on her birthday because I had exams, and that was the first time I didn’t take her flowers.”

“I miss your mom.”

“Yeah, me too.” He twisted you both a little when you began to squirm at the position, moving you so that you were on your side and he could press up to your back, your hand taking his as you dragged it over your body to sit across yourself. “Better?”

“Yeah, much.”

“So, I think on the first time I really felt like myself at college was actually the weekend I realised things with Kat were going downhill. It had been a whole month since we’d last seen each other, or even video chatted. Of course, we called and texted, but not as often and when I told her I loved her, it certainly didn’t make me feel as warm and fuzzy as it used to. I didn’t plan my weekends around seeing her and having virtual dates, but I started planning on keeping them open, and going to the college pep rallies, and going to the clubs and restaurants with my roommates. I had free time, and I liked that. It hurt when we officially called it off, and I realised I was going to need new friends, but if I’m being really honest here, a large part of the reason I came home again was to reconnect with myself, as well as move on, because I never knew myself and college as one.”

“You’re deeper than I thought.”

“What, did you think I was a kiddie pool of emotions?” He nudged his foot into the back of your leg, cackling a little when you grumbled at the jab. “I will have you know that I possess a deep ability to get hurt, and to do hurt, and that whole feelings shit. Blah, blah, blah, whatever you want to call it, I can do that.”

You laughed, muffling yourself by bringing his hand up to your mouth, kissing the back of his knuckles, and he flexed his hand, before gripping your chin and tipping your head back, pressing his lips to your cheek in a wet kiss in return. “I know you can. You cheered me up after Stiles left me on movie night, twice, and you’ve spent the whole of today caring for me. You’re deep as the Mariana Trench.”

“That’s some pretty high compliments, kitten.”

“You deserve them. So, tell me about having roommates.”

The conversation followed along much the same lines, and he let you shift every time you needed to, your position changing constantly as you tried to get and stay comfortable, but he told you everything you needed to know, without ever growing impatient. In return, you told him about everything he missed, you told him all the antics and stories that coach had endured since he left, and you told him about the funniest crimes his dad had been shutting down too. 

You talked for what felt like hours, before the conversations had fizzled into a serene quiet, which in turn had eventually become the sleep you had promised, the two of you drifting off into a comfortable quiet that made darkness overtake your senses. 

You had never slept as well on your period as you had with Mitch holding you. 

Your sleep was normally filled with tosses and turns, unable to settle for too long as different parts of your body ached and flared with pains, but this time you were happy, and you snoozed, and when you had woken up hours later, it was with darkness filling the room at the window instead of the sunrays you’d fallen asleep to, but you were still in the same position you'd drifted off in, and you realised you hadn't had a fitful night with constant wake-ups, but instead, you’d slept right through for hours.

The man underneath you was still asleep, snoring lightly was each breath, and you ran the tip of your finger over his nose, watching him twitch in his sleep and twist away from the source of your tickling. You’d never seen him asleep before, but you had seen Stiles, and even unconscious the two were opposites.

You were used to Stiles falling asleep around you, he kept himself up so late doing unnecessary research and keeping his mind busy until he crashed that he often fell asleep at other times too, slumped against the nearest surface, which often meant you. He drooled from the awkward ankles, and snored loudly, and twitched in his sleep before jerking awake. Mitch was calm, and clingy, and a deep sleeper. Even the slightest movement would wake his brother, and yet with all the subtle shifts you’d made, he was just adapting to you. Though, you assumed that might be down to his high activity lifestyle, all that sports must take a toll on him, even if he wasn’t keeping it up right now.

Pressing kisses along his jaw, he made a soft noise in his sleep that made your heart clench as you silently cooed over him, before he was shifting, letting out a little groan and pushing on your shoulder to roll you over, his body following until he could press you into the mattress and cover his face with your neck. 

“G’ back t’ sleep. Bit longer.”

“I would let you stay, but you dad will wonder where you are, and I have school in the morning, and I’m not sure how you’d like to explain to my parents what you’re doing here.” He huffed out at that, pushing himself to sit up, before shaking his head to clear the sleep away a little bit as he cracked his eyes open. “Hi there.”

“I haven’t taken a nap in fuckin’ ages.”

“It was a good nap.” You confirmed, standing up yourself and taking the blessed few moments of pain-free movement to stretch out a little bit. He leaned over, brushing his lips to your forehead, and you walked across to the window. “It’s later than I thought, both of my parents are already home from work.”

“I should get going.” You nodded, never looking away from the window as he remade the bed with the blankets you both had messed up, before coming over to find you. “You gonna’ be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, I just need to have a shower and get myself ready for tomorrow so I can sleep in. I have a period every month, I’m well used to dealing with it, even if it does suck.”

He rolled his eyes, taking your hand in his and pulling you away from looking outside, but not before you had closed the curtains and locked out the streetlamps bright rays. “Why don’t you walk me out instead of being sassy, huh?”

“I thought you liked me when I was sassy?”

“That’s when you’re fucking me. I like you most when you’re being cute.” You rolled your eyes, but took his hand in your own and headed towards the front door, as he sat on the bed to pull on his shoes that he had discarded by the door so long ago. 

“I’m going to go and unlock the door, and make sure my parents are in bed.”

“It’s been a while since I had to sneak out of a pretty girl’s house, I kinda’ missed the thrill.” He smirked, nodding to you as you went, and you were sure to hide the blush crawling at your cheeks. 

The darkness that had grown to replace the light in the room was thick and heavy, only making you more tired as you rubbed gently at your eyes, trying to wake yourself up a little from your nap so that you could have a shower and get yourself ready for a day at school, before eventually going back to bed again. The downstairs of your house was vacant, your parents clearly having come in and gone about their night without disturbing you, before going straight to bed themselves. 

You could hear Mitch padding down the stairs softly as not to wake your parents, and so you opened the door quietly, turning it in towards you and letting the cool night air sweep into the house. There was a note left for you by your parents, and you picked up the piece of card, flipping it over to read what it said, smiling at the handwriting scrawled onto it.

‘Figured you were getting an early night, didn’t want to wake you last night. Have a good day at school.’

There was a heart drawn at the bottom, and you assumed they didn't think you'd see it until you woke up and headed out in the morning, and you were grateful they hadn't come into the room, because you weren’t too sure how you would explain being curled up in bed and clinging to your best friends older brother as you slept side by side. Probably not the best way to introduce a guy to your parents.

Placing it back where it was, you could thank them for it tomorrow, and Mitch was standing beside the door patiently, watching you carefully as you finally turned back to him. 

“I’m sorry today didn’t go how you were planning, but thank you for sticking around anyway.”

He lifted a hand, brushing stray hair away behind your ear and settling the palm over your cheek, pulling you forwards gently until you were standing so close to him that you could pick out the lighter flecks of colour in his eyes, despite the darkness of the night surrounding you both. “My plan today was to come over and see you and have food. Sex is just what we usually do, but I wasn’t disappointed any less.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you didn’t bother saying anything at all, instead choosing to reach out and lace your fingers with his other hand, to which he eagerly accepted, spreading the digits for you to slip your own between before he was squeezing your hand tightly. 

“I want to kiss you again. Is that okay?”

You lifted your face back up, your sights moving from your connected hands to instead find his own eyes, before you were leaning in a little closer, a smile pulling on your cheeks. “Another goodnight kiss?”

“Yes.”

“You can consider this blanket permission to kiss me whenever you want, sex or no sex.” You promised, and you barely caught sight of his smile before he was leaning in to press his lips to your own in a tender connection. It was slow, and sweet, your mouths creating a rhythm of their own as you fell in closer to him, wrapping your free hand around his neck as your fingers played together from where they were connected at the hand and pressed between you both, squeezing tightly as you clung to one another. 

“I have to warn you, I may abuse that privilege.”

His words were exhaled breathily into your mouth, and you only chuckled in response, nodding from where his forehead was pressed to your own, before indulging yourself in a few further quick pecks to his lips, which he was happy to reciprocate. “You planning to kiss me a lot, Mitch?”

“Maybe I am.” He leaned back in, smiling against your mouth as the whispered confession faded out into silence, and you let him, leaning over him as he stepped back over the threshold and down the step onto the garden, his head tipped up to face yours, the hand from your cheek slipping down to your hip in order to stabilise you. When you pulled back from him, his lips chased your own for a second, pouted and needy before he finally rocked back onto his feet, fishing into his pocket for his keys, but never taking his hand from yours.

“I’ll see you soon, I’m due college application letters back some point next week, and Stiles and I have always said we’d open them together.”

“I look forward to it, kitten.” He gave your hand a final squeeze, before finally releasing it and stepping away backwards in the direction of his car, the lights flashing as it lit up on the street. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You nodded, watching as he turned away and climbed into his car, never leaving the doorway until he'd driven past, winking at you as he went, the lights fading as he moved further down the street until he had rounded the corner and was out of sight. Closing the door once again, you pressed your forehead to it, feeling embarrassed about the size of the grin on your face, before locking up and flicking out the lights, making your way back upstairs.

When you made it back into your bedroom, your eyes immediately closed in on the jumper that was left on your bed, the same one he’d shrugged off before the two of you had fallen asleep, but it was now folded neatly and placed on the straightened bed sheets, a purposeful offering that made warmth bloom in your chest and ebb out across every part of your body.

Grabbing your phone from where it was sitting, you snapped a picture of the garment, sending it to him and knowing he would reply when he got home.

you left me your jumper.

With that, you dropped the device, peeling off the clothes you’d spent the day in and dropping them into the laundry basket, before heading towards the bathroom. Switching on the shower, you lined up the towels on your counter before stepping under the warm water and letting out a happy sigh as the heat flooded over your body. 

Periods always made you feel icky. They made you feel dirty, and tired, and unattractive.

Today, though, you had felt nothing but peace and tranquillity, being in the arms of someone who cared about you. It was odd, the feeling of moving on. You could sense the shift in your own soul, the way you felt a little detached from yourself, floating aimlessly like you had nothing anchoring you down anymore. You no longer felt like you were bound by the ties you felt to Stiles, the same guilty jealousy that had once possessed you anytime you thought about Lydia - or anyone else - being the one who stole Stiles’ heart instead of you was no longer. The idea of being with someone other than Stiles was no longer met with disdain, but rather your attempt at optimism. You didn’t want to let it go, you didn’t want to move on, and your heart still held a place for him that you weren’t sure would ever go away. 

Stiles was the first boy you had ever loved, but now, it didn’t seem so impossible to say he wouldn’t be the only one you loved. There was space for more, there was room for trial and error and heartbreak because, finally, you were allowing yourself the opportunity for the childish infatuation to be released so that you could move on to something more.

Something mature and meaningful. Something that revolved around more than just the chance of affections but something that was built on dedication and understanding and deep-rooted love. 

Washing out the suds from your hair, you wiped at the soap on your face, washing off every thought and emotion that had passed over you in the day, and letting your worries and heartbreak slip away down the drain with the soap, feeling completely and utterly refreshed. When you stepped out, steam billowing into the room around you, your first call was to find some new and comfortable clothes to cuddle up into. Once you had done, you spent a little longer rubbing your moisturiser into your face, and drying your hair off before you could get into bed, your eyes closing as you listened to the hum of the machine, the simple but steady note letting you relax yourself as you matched your heartrate to the subtle and steady clicks each time the blades turned over.

Finally, feeling clean and comfy and satiated, you picked up the jumper that had been left for you and pulled it over your head, the longer sleeves swamping over your hands as you balled them up and lifted the neckline to your nose with the tips of your fingers that peeked out, taking a deep inhale of the scent that clung to it.

You felt wrapped up in it, the smell of his cologne that was on your pillow and your blanket, the dip on the bed from where he’d been sitting. No matter what happened when he came over for more physical activities, you were never left with the smell of him clinging to your sheets. After that, your room would smell of sweat and sex, but the smell of his aftershave and his shampoo pressed into the fabric came from a day of cuddling and sleeping, a day of doing nothing but holding on another close, until he was leaving a ghost of himself behind even when he had left. 

Lifting up your phone, your latest notification was from the man who was swamping your thoughts, only a few minutes old, and you swiped it open, rolling onto your side and propping a hand under your head. 

[Mitch 🔥] saw my syracuse one was over the back of ur chair, u said it smelled good. thought I’d leave u another one.

Taking a quick picture of yourself, your face partially covered by the hand over a jumper you had up and over your nose, you sent it to him, typing out a thank you underneath, and expressing just how much you loved the gesture. 

[Mitch 🔥] u look fucking adorable. I like u in my jumpers.

Heat crawled up your cheeks, and you nibbled on your lower lip, flicking out the light and preparing yourself to settle back down to sleep. 

maybe next time you come over, i’ll be wearing only the jumper. 

Hitting send, it went through the ‘read’ immediately, and the grey bubble at the bottom of the screen was popping up only a second later but he took him a moment to reply, the bubble disappearing and reappearing a couple of times, before a text finally came through, and for a moment, you worried you’d crossed a line of some kind.

[Mitch 🔥] ur a tease, can’t believe i'm this worked up at midnight.

You rolled your eyes, thumbs moving quickly over the illuminated screen, before hitting send, and quieting your own giggle of amusement by burying your face in the pillow. 

i’ll make it up to you when i next see you.

The next text came only a second or so later, a yawn taking you over as you prepared yourself for sleep, and it didn’t require a response.

[Mitch 🔥] can’t fuckin wait.

[nadiecomoyo]

Fortune Favors The Bold

Prologue

Before visiting Yuta, Gojo travels to America to see a group of skilled individuals. Once there he gives them the task to seek out cases where curses are out of the norm, in hopes to find more of Sukuna’s fingers. All four of them scramble across Japan with one goal in mind: find as many fingers as possible to feed to the new vessel before his execution takes place.

Song Inspirations: La Casita, The Plan, Leave The Door Open

WK: 3.5k

A/N: Hi! This is my first story. It’s more for my entertainment but if people like this then great. Basically Gojo meeting the gang and what not. Enjoy!

“Would your table like to start off with an appetizer while the last person in your party arrives?” the waitress asked, making her round yet again to the table for a third time that night. The pristine white table cloth maintaining the same cleanliness since their arrival. The only indication of the table being used are the four empty glasses littering the table. The exact table currently holding four people who remained silent as sharp glares descend on the vacant seat. The three men and one female all looked like they wanted to be somewhere else, the waitress noted that none of the guests have ordered food, only drinks.

Angel sighed, seeing the lack of initiative from the others, and decided to answer the patient waitress. “No thank you, we’ll order once he arrives. But can you get us four,” turning his head to see Nicole motioning to her glass, “I mean three glasses of Aviation and one glass of water.” The waitress jotted down the request and promptly left.

The lavish Gabriel Kreuther restaurant became alive at night: people chattering, plates and utensils clicking, instruments playing, yet their table did not have an ounce of sound. Unbeknown to the waitress and the people around them, the four were conversating in their minds.

[Some invite this is], Alejandro flicked his wrist to the seat next to him.

[The guy is almost an hour late. I don’t care who he is I’m ditching this place once I finish my drink], Thomas sent an annoyed look to the group. Alejandro hummed in agreement.

[Come on guys, it must be serious if he contacted us], Angel pleads to the other three at the table.

[It’s concerning how he found us. The barrier I generate around us clouds our remnants. The inevitable trails we leave behind should not be enough to trace us ba-]

[-Must be his Six Eyes!] Thomas’ eyes widened at his not-so-genius epiphany.

His internal excitement reached his body, their mental conversation did not help the incoming waitress with their drinks, who has not seen much of a reaction from the guests since they have arrived. She did not expect Thomas’ action and almost dropped the tray onto the floor. A quick apology towards the waitress and a mild smack on Thomas’ head from Nicole amended the almost tragedy.

[As I was saying], Nicole specifically looking at Thomas, [I’m just glad we’re here and not back home. I never want to be in the same room with him and my grandfather.]

[The bastard may finally have a heart attack], Alejandro snickering at the thought of the resigned clan leader kicking the bucket, [Either way being caught between a rock and a hard place sucks.]

Everyone was thinking the same thing since their special, late, guest invited them to the sought-after restaurant overviewing the New York skyline. They all did not like this encounter one bit. All four of them were uncomfortably realizing their present reality. Exorcising in the shadows for so long, while going against their respective clan’s wishes, they preferred no one knew about their prohibited activities. The confrontation by a certain sorcerer clearly irked them, especially Nicole.

[Those eyes of his annoy me beyond imagina-]

Nicole halted her sentence as all four of them sensed an overwhelming presence of cursed energy. Being seated in the middle of the room, it gave them access to seeing the entrance door. An overly tall white-haired man sporting black sunglasses entered the main dining room floor. He exchanged words with the host, who pointed to the reserved table under his name, and began to walk towards them.

“Look who finally arrived,” Angel’s sarcastic comment rang a bit too loud causing a few people at the other tables to glance at him.

Nicole quickly investigated the special guest’s mind.

[Oh, I am so late. But that chocolate pizza really hit the spot. I need to buy one for Yuta before I leave.]

Disappointed with the revelation, she retracted from his mind. Nicole begrudgingly sent him a smile as he sat down at the table acting as if he was not late by one hour.

“Sorry for the delay, traffic here is terrible amiright?” flashing a bright smile towards the four at the table, “My name is Sa-,”

“We know who you are. Can you get on with the point of this dinner? Your timing is immaculate, has anyone told you that?" Thomas interrupted Gojo, sending him the same bright smile back. Gojo seemed to expect that type of response and brushed his teasing comment.

“I knew I made the right choice with you all,” Gojo slouched on his chair and pointed at Nicole, “You made it a difficult task in trying to find all four of you, I’m impressed, but better luck next time.”

His jab at her technique hardly offended her. Unsurprising to her, it offended the three other males. Before the lot opened their mouths, she sent them a reassuring nod before speaking on her behalf.

“Now that I am familiar with your mind, I will sense your presence the second you come into the country again. I will make sure that you will never find us again,” [nor our clans] she thought, while staring into the black abyss of his sunglasses.

“Don’t stay away too far, I’ll miss you,” His shameless flirting earned him scoffs from Alejandro and Thomas.

[This guy, I swear] / [Gross], both men expressed their distaste.

“Are you going to tell us what this dinner is for? Certainly not to get to know us. You clearly have knowledge of us, it got you this far,” disgusted by his remark, Nicole wanted this dinner to end as soon as possible.

“Well to keep this as simple as possible, we recently found a suitable vessel for Sukuna’s fingers. The vessel’s control over the curse is immeasurable. I have never seen a vessel like Yuji Itadori, quite frightening. Fortunately, his execution is delayed by yours truly,” motioning to himself, “I see this as an opportunity to destroy all the fingers. It would be a waste to kill him, right? However, Jujutsu Tech only has a few of the fingers.”

Gojo leans towards the table assessing the table, looking at each person one by one. Not one ounce of interest shown on their faces. On the contrary, their minds were racing with the oh-so-simple explanation given by Gojo. The bomb of information he dropped on them almost short-circuited their minds.

[What the hell? What in the actual hell?]

[Suitable vessel?]

[Yuji who?]

The loud thoughts from the guys started to bother Nicole. Hushing them, they all turned to say sorry. The white-haired sorcerer smirked, “This is where you four come in. I need your help in locating as many fingers as possible.”

“That means he ate a finger and has the capability to consume more without any complications?” Angel questioned in disbelief.

“Mhm!” Gojo nodded in excitement, at least someone is curious. Gojo feels confident in his recruitment skills, all he needs in a breakthrough.

[Hold up, I need food to process this.]

Thomas stood up from his seat. His face held something in between of a constipated/happy look. He spotted their designated waitress, beckoning her to come to the table.

“Sit down,” Nicole pulled him back into his seat.

“Excuse me ma’am, can I get the pork chops drizzled in wine sauce with a side of potatoes and greens?” The surprised waitress wrote down Thomas’ order and waiting patiently for the others. Not having any other option, the people seated at the table quickly ordered their desired plates, wanting the waitress to leave them alone.

The three besides Thomas, who was enjoying Alejandro’s unfinished Aviation, began to think on why this pertained to them.

Alejandro was the first to talk, “that’s quite the task, I don’t know if we’re qualified to handle it,” letting a lie slip from his mouth. He wanted to test the waters with Gojo to see how much he truly knew about them. They never flaunt their techniques, something they learned at a young age, how can this guy know what they are capable of accomplishing?

Seeing through the lie, Gojo smirked. He knew these four individuals were capable enough to exorcise grade 1 curses, possibly special grades. Gojo heard rumors about an American group of jujutsu sorcerers who clear swarms of curses with ease. People who vanish as quick as they strike, never leaving a trace behind. With the help of his Six Eyes, the remnants of their cursed energy were enough to help him locate the group. The closer he got to them, the foggier his mind became. He relied heavily on his eyes to find the four sorcerers. Overall, that technique of hers is a tricky one. Gojo has an inkling that she has a trump card up her sleeve. The others? He has no clue what lies within them. His eyes are failing him yet again, the four people around the table do not radiate any levels of cursed energy. One would say he is having dinner with civilians. But if he squints his eyes hard enough, he can see a glimpse of their energies through the mental barrier in front of him.

“We both know you’re kidding,” Assertive in his statement, Gojo laid back, getting comfortable in his chair.

“Either way international affairs aren’t our thing,” Nicole chimed in.

Gojo shrugged at her comment, “Aiding your fellow jujutsu comrades? Saving the world? This may be overseas affairs however, you’re gonna feel the ripple sooner or later sweetheart. What are you going to do then?”

[Why should we help a country that did not even help ours to begin with?] Being in public, she could not do much but glare at him. Not like that did much to affect Gojo. He's used to being the bane of many people's existence.

“There should be other capable sorcerers, you didn’t have to come all the way over here?” the three nodded at Angel’s point. They all agreed with Nicole's response as well. Why help when the other side of the world turned a blind eye to them? Years of curses running freely through populated cities to small farm towns. The aid back then from Japan was non-existent.

“It would be easier for me to get help back in Japan, but I wanted to see if the rumors were true. And I am not disappointed.” The small praise from Gojo did boost the four’s ego. Getting some recognition from the strongest sorcerer felt nice for a second, until they remembered why he praised them. The bubble from his praise was popped, bringing them back to reality.

“If we chose to accept this task, we will get something out of this. No way in hell am I doing your work for free.” Alejandro crossing his arms continues, “I like saving the world as much as the next guy, but this will not be a one-sided transaction.”

“Alright then, what do you want?” intrigued by what his demands would be, Gojo shifting himself to look towards his right. Signaling to Alejandro that his attention is on him.

Alejandro glanced at Angel and Thomas, both who were already staring at him.

“Great question. We’ll let you know when we need a favor from the strongest sorcerer alive,” Alejandro stated, the three men wearing a smug smile.

“Idiots,” Nicole murmured.

“While we’re thinking on what you can do for us,’ Alejandro gesturing to the four, “stay away from our clans. Do not go near any member of our families.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow when he noticed how serious Alejandro became.

Thomas added on, “Our techniques were a bitch to train, but it had to be done. We trained during the nights growing up; it was the only time we were out of sight from our families. It got easier as we got older, more freedom to roam and do as we please. Hiding our exorcisms from them is not something we are proud of. But we know they would not approve of what we do. Not like they can do anything at this point.”

“But there’s something about disappointing our families that we can’t bear to see,” Angel received funny stares from the three besides Gojo.

“Ok mamas’ boy, save the sappiness for later,” sending Angel a playful wink, the group chuckled at Nicole’s side joke. Alejandro took the opportunity to ruffle his hair. Everyone getting some entertainment by messing around with Angel.

“No one knows what we do. Our clans have lost all hope in saving this country. Growing up we all saw our fair share of deaths caused by curses. Our people have let them roam around for so long. All four of us decided to do what our clans have given up on. So far, I believe we have made a difference and that is all that matters to us,” Nicole loudly sighed before continuing, “But just know I am fully against helping you for your cause. Years have passed here, and our situation only got better because of us. The only reason why I would help you is if they all agree. If not, count me out. Do not think just because your comfort zone is in danger that I will run to help. And I can proudly say that the other three all agree with what I am saying.” Nicole's animosity reached Gojo’s ears. The three men she mentioned did not say anything, but one look at their stern faces spoke louder than words.

“Fair enough, but what about the future? Why do we have to follow the same traditions or actions that they did? Alienating ourselves to protect our useless hierarchy instead of allying with our neighboring countries will greatly benefit us all. Let us show everyone that working together does make changes.” Gojo slid his glasses slightly. His sky-blue eyes peeking out from the black tinted glasses, startling the whole table. One can try to explain how it feels to be under the gaze of Gojo Satoru, but it can never measure up to the actual feeling. They knew he was serious about recruiting them for the task. No doubt about it.

[Man, this blows. He’s actually serious]

[Do we agree?]

[I heard in Japan the fruit is expensive. Should I sneak in a watermelon into the country?]

[His eyes are beautiful.]

“Well 'Mr. Motivational Speaker' you got your point across, now tell us about the task.” That last thought made the three men look at Nicole, she ignored them and focused on Gojo.

“One thing to know, there may be a chance that the fingers resonate. The other fingers may have reacted to the first finger being eaten by Yuji. The chance that it is already eaten up by a curse is highly likely. If you agree, I will give you four individual missions. Each location has had unusual curse activity, a finger can be the cause of the of activity. That is why I am sending each of you to investigate and retrieve the finger if it is there. I would go, but I need to deal with Yuji’s transition into Jujutsu Tech. He is still a kid. I want him to at least enjoy the remaining life he has. Remember his execution is postponed, he will be executed in the future. But before that happens, he needs to eat as many fingers as possible. He is our only way to eliminate those cursed fingers.” Gojo elucidated Yuji's importance in eliminating the indestructible cursed fingers.

“Say we agree, where would we go?” Angel asked the question the four were dying to know. None have ever ventured outside of their county. The thought of leaving America to Japan has them on edge for what is to come if they agree to the mission.

“Let me remember,” one finger tapping on his chin as Gojo tried to remember the important locations, “Nicole to Okinawa, Angel to Musutafu, Alejandro to Osaka, and Thomas to Shinganshina.”

Listening to their designated places did excite them. Spending their time exorcising curses throughout America, they have seen grotesque curses that makes anyone hurl to weak curses even a baby can kill. Given the chance to see other parts of the world, the group began to think hard about their decision. Each one hoping that their decision matches the others.

The silence after revealing the locations made Gojo rethink his method of persuasion, [Should have done this differently, maybe start a game consisting of each person saying what is great about Satoru Gojo!], he thought.

[How is that persuasive?], a feminine voice popped unexpectedly in Gojo’s mind. Ignoring the snark comment, he instead focuses on her presence. He feels her peering into his mind, it felt personal. Not intimately but comfortably, almost as if they were to be playing a game together. Not having much knowledge on her technique, curiosity got the best of him. And he intended to discover more about it.

[Is that so? Tell me how to persuade you], Gojo putting emphasize on the word ‘you’, wanting to continue this private conversation.

[Be truthful. What else is there to say but the truth? Everything else is a waste of a breath.], Nicole stared right into his blank glasses, seeing nothing but her reflection. Sighing from Gojo’s way of thinking, she observes her friends.

Seeing her friends in their own conversations, she returned her attention to Gojo. Rolling her eyes and said, [What is with the glasses? I know you can’t see through them.]

[Helps with my technique], feeling unsatisfied by his response she did not push any further. Seems like we aren’t the only ones cautious, she thought. Deep in thought, Nicole did not notice the group switching topics. Alejandro’s voice reeling her back into the conversation.

“Well why not? I want to see the curses over there. I’ll give them a run for their money,” Alejandro leaned back with his arms on the back of his head. head. Patiently waiting to see where this would go. His response gave Gojo hope as he looked for the other responses.

The three other sorcerers looked at each other. Each of them wondering whether they are making the right choice or not. But after seeing Alejandro’s determined face, they won’t allow him to go by himself. It is all four of them or nothing. No one gets left behind or stranded. They did not need Nicole’s technique to know what they were all thinking.

“We’re in,” all three of them agree to the task.

“Only because this will benefit us as well, don’t forget that Gojo,” she reiterated to the now overly happy sorcerer in front of her. Her negative tone did not match the small quirk on her face.

“Going to Japan huh? Who would have thought?” Angel’s left-hand brushing through his hair, “We have to be crazy from agreeing to this.”

“Extremely but what’s a jujutsu sorcerer without some craziness? Basically a requirement for the job.” Gojo reassured them. Briefly thinking of his students who attract themselves to danger, like moths to light.

“Hey where is ou-” Thomas got cut off by the tray of delicious food heading towards there table. The sight of their food was mouthwatering. The meats to the pastas, everything they asked for was cooked to perfection. The four silently thanking Gojo for inviting them to the restaurant.

As they all settled in with their food, something rubbed Angel the wrong way.

“That Yuji guy, is he ok with all of this?” The question caught Gojo off guard.

“Yeah,” Thomas losing interest in his food spoke, “no one especially someone his age should not experience this. What terribly luck he has,” staring at the skyline.

“Knowing you’re going to die in the future, he must have will power. No regular guy would continue to move forward like that,” Alejandro added in.

The group stopped eating once they saw how silent Gojo became. The topic wasn’t the most positive one, but necessary. The four are weary about Sukuna’s vessel, but if Gojo has faith in the boy then they will follow his judgement. Easier to stomach when the threat is nowhere near your home, praying that this trip will prevent things from coming over to America. Feeling bad for bring up the topic, they resumed eating. No one mentioning again the fate of Yuji Itadori.

[You ok?] Gojo looked up form his plate to see Nicole looking at him. The blankness of her face masked her slight nervousness on how concerned she sounded. She sent him an awkward smile and followed the other’s actions. She ate her food while feeling Gojo’s gaze on her.

[I’m ok], she paused after hearing his thought, to her surprise, relieved. A genuine smile broke onto her face. Not wanting him to see her smile, she concentrates on enjoying her dish.

Dinner almost went smoothly aside from the couple flirty comments towards Nicole. She did not mind them; not like she would tell him that. Her friends on the other hand showed their disgust to Gojo’s flirtation.

After thanking the waitress for her patient service, leaving her a hefty tip courtesy from Gojo, Angel had to be dragged out of the restaurant by Thomas and Alejandro, the poor guy forgets he's lightweight. It was best to enjoy the night as much as they could. The future is ever-changing and they would like to die with no regrets. As they were heading out, going their separate ways for the time being, Gojo had one more thing to tell them.

“You know I’m counting on all four of you,” his parting words held so much weight, but it was also a breath of fresh air. Nodding to him, knowing that they will not let Gojo down. Not when this is the new beginning, one where humans prevail over curses.

[smuckersblr]

Clueless Part 1

Peter tapped his freshly manicured french nails on the marbled countertop. Italian music was softly playing on the stereo near the fridge, the TV in the living room across from where he stood was playing the muted news. Another attack in Manhattan taken care of by the red robot that everyone is calling IronMan.

Peter huffed and looked over the dieted food for his dad he had just packed for his lunch, and waited for the coffee to be done pouring. “Daddy! Hurry up you’re gonna be late for your meeting!” Peter’s dad, Tony Stark, was a world-renowned businessman/engineer.

And Peter was his ‘infamous child prodigy’, is what Dr.Strange, his dad’s close friend, likes to call him. Peter was the popular kid at school, the one who knew how to dress amazingly enough to be on the cover of ELLE with his famous everyday outfits, the kid that had all A’s and was on the honor roll each year and won many science conventions first place awards; and yet he was still known to be the most liked and admired at school.

Peter bit his glossed lips while examining his manicure, thinking about the dinner tonight that he had to go to with his dad, something about ‘linking up with old friends. Tony came into the room through the arch and was fixing his tie while looking at his watch.

“Pete don’t tell me you made that crap diet food for me today, I’m gonna have a long day of meetings and a burger already sounds amazing for lunch.” Peter scrunched up his freckled nose in distaste at the grease patty his father called heaven.

Peter poured his dad's coffee in a stainless steel coffee cup. “Daddy you know Dr. Strange said that it’s the best way to help if you want to live past fifty.” Tony rolled his eyes and took the packed food and coffee cup anyways. “So now you're going to listen to whatever that man tells you?” Peter pecked his dad’s cheek, rubbing away the gloss smudge with his thumb with a fond smile.

“I’m gonna listen to any man with a Bachelor's degree daddy.” His dad smiled fondly and hugged his son. “That’s my boy.” And before Tony left through the archway to the foyer he turned around and looked Peter up and down.

“You and the girls plan something for after school? Because you know we’re going out tonight kid.” Peter looked down over his clothes for the day. A Versace dual print button-up that reached down midthigh with white shorts. And a white Gucci belt to cinch his waist to show his figure and his white leather Prada pumps with his Speedy Bandouliere 25 to tie everything together.

“We’re matching today and it was Nat’s turn to pick the designer, and I know dad all you’ve been talking about is this dinner.” Tony hummed and sipped his coffee, rolling his eyes at his son’s attitude but, never-the-less hugged Peter and both walked out to the front of their round-about cobbled driveway and both went into their respectable vehicles.

----------

Once Peter rolled up to Natasha’s giant house with the same green patch of luscious grass and beautifully cut bushes around the property with giant gates at the entrance, Peter honked twice, and while waiting he checked himself out in his bedazzled hand mirror.

His curls for the day were in wet-styled auburn curls and his eyes were glossed with a wet shine and blush blended perfectly into his tan skin from his dad’s last business trip in Mexico. Peter smiled at the enchanting memory of mimosas being handed to him on the beach with the sound of waves crashing in the background and oiled pure white skin under the blazing sun and the sound of beautiful Latino music playing at the beach’s bar behind him.

Peter remembered the dream-like Hispanic men lounging around him in swimming shorts and glorious brown skin and bright white smiles. His dad finally enjoyed his time without work or stress at the bar, smiling and laughing with beautiful Latina women.

Peter snapped out of his loving memory when Natasha jumped in the front seat of his white topless jeep.

“Hey Pete, hurry so we can get to Shuri’s house, I don’t want to hear her complain about being late to class.” She rolled her eyes lovingly and looked at herself through the front seat mirror and pushed up her curls.

He snorted at Nat's teasing and pulled away from the curb. “You know that outfit will catch Steve’s eye right?” She looked me up and down with a devilish smirk on her red painted lips, Peter always did admire how she pulled off red so damn well.

Peter looked over at her once they hit a red light. “Every outfit I wear catches that man’s eye, Nat.” Then another burst of laughter came out from both of them.

Once Peter pulled up to Shuri’s house, he already knew she was gonna give them hell for the time.

Peter absentmindedly looked at the time on the jeep, only ten minutes ‘till the bell rings, they’ve got plenty of time. Shuri came in the car with a flourish of the door slamming shut and a huff that came from her lips. While Peter was pulling away from the curb he looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at Shuri.

“What’s got you in a fit S?” Shuri flung a strand of her box braid behind her shoulder in annoyance and sulked in the back with her Prada handbag clutched in her lap. “T’Challa was actin’ lame this mornin’, only because I asked him why he was acting out last night with his friends,” And once Shuri started talking about her brother, both Natasha and Peter tuned in, even when they arrived in the school’s parking lot, the deets on T was always juicy.

“Get this guys I overheard T talkin’ about you Pete and how he’s surprised your daddy hasn’t sent you to a catholic school already because he and his friends think you're easy, then somehow that turned into a convo on how he would totally--and I quote--"Tap that ass".” She said this conversationally while all three of them were walking towards the school with their heels clicking and bags in hand.

Peter gawked and Nat let out a snort. “Okay, but doesn’t he know that Pete is a total virgin?” Nat brought up while Peter was minutely speechless for the first time in forever and then he snapped back to life. “What a skeeze.'' Both girls nodded in resolution and then they split for class once they got into the school’s hallway.

———

At lunch Peter walked to his and the girls' table in the middle of the outside cafeteria with a lime popsicle in one dainty hand, sucking the tip of the icy treat while soaking in the glances he got from his peers. Peter sat with a flourish and waved at the girls in greeting.

“Pete whatcha doing tonight I wanna see if you could go shopping with us.” Wanda leaned forward with her chewing gum on one finger while she chewed on her apple slices.

Peter pouted, “Sorry Wand, I got this dinner thing with my dad and his friends tonight.” Wanda gave a humph and hunched her shoulders. “You know I find it weird how Pete’s dad is an actual DILF and his friends are just as fine.” Shuri brought up, which got the girls around the table nodding in agreement. Peter rolled his eyes and flipped Shuri off when she broke out laughing.

Lunch had just begun but usually, Steve would be right next to Peter with his macchiato in hand. “Looking for your boy toy?” Shuri swirled a baby carrot in the dollop of the ranch she only treated herself to once a month.

Peter grimaced and shook his head indifferently, sucking the treat back into his mouth with an eye roll from his friend's laughter. Peter knew that Steve had it for him and was at his beck and call even if he acted like he was just doing it to be nice.

Peter rarely felt guilty for using his crush to his advantage but he also explicitly told Steve that he wasn’t looking to date anyone. Besides his father would go ballistic on him, he distinctly told him he wasn’t allowed to date anyone, and I quote, ‘until you find a guy who has his own business that I can buy and make sure that I have control over him’.

Peter was drawn out of his thoughts when he realized there was a shadow cast over him. Peter turned and titled his head up, there standing was his saving grace in the hands of his best friend. “One almond milk macchiato with no foam and two shots of espresso for my very beautiful best friend, Peter Stark.”

Sam by Steve’s side made a face and looked at Steve hurt, “I thought I was your beautiful best friend.” Steve ignored him though and smiled beamingly at Peter’s plucked arched eyebrow. “You gonna give me it or are you also my handler.” Nat by his side snorted and shook her head. “Not until you look at my outfit Stark.” Peter rolled his eyes with an apathetic air to him.

Peter didn’t like playing Steve’s silly games, but he still wanted his coffee and he wanted it now. So he let his eyes roam up and down Steve’s body. A Classic Damier Pique polo and nice fitted dusty blue slacks. He wore a smirk on those lips every female seemed to love and his blonde hair was slicked back with a pair of black Gucci sunglasses on his head.

Peter furrowed his brows and glared at Natasha who was pointedly not catching his eyes. “Did Nat tell you we were matching with Louis today?”

“Just took a wild guess, cuz I know she knows what I like on you.” Peter rolled his eyes and feigned a vexed look. “You know I told you I can't have you flirting with me Stevie, I'm not allowed to date.” Steve shrugged his shoulders and handed over Peter’s drink.

“You know you can't keep me away from you, doll.” Sam scoffed next to him and shook his head, walking away from the situation and heading towards the benches where their friends stood.

“You better follow your only source of affection before he decides to not hold your hand anymore when your feelings get hurt.” Peter waved his hand in a dismissive way and turned back to the table.

Steve shook his head, even though Peter wasn’t paying any more attention to him. Sometimes Steve wishes he could just smack the sense into Peter that he would do anything to be with him. Maybe instead of a smack, it’d be a kiss.

----------

At Eleven Madison Park, Peter dined with his father, Rhodey, and Dr. Banner. The bright smiles and charisma felt like second nature to Peter, he was taught great mannerisms by his Nonna and Nonno when he used to stay at their condo in Malibu while his dad was out on business trips.

“Listen, all I'm saying Tony, is that Pete has the credentials to be a part of my branch.” Bruce held his hands up in surrender. Peter sipped the glass of champagne idly, pretending that he wasn’t the face of this conversation.

“Oh trust me, I know my genius son has the credentials to be a part of any big business. But I rather him not work for anyone,” Tony cut a piece of steak with vigor and popped it in his mouth.

“Besides he’s too much like me, he wouldn’t listen to you Bruce, he likes challenges.” Bruce laughed and shook his head, looking over at Peter with a smile.

“The kids gotta start somewhere Tones.” Rhodey pointed out with a raised brow, his eyes going over to Peter where he was cutting a sliver from his seasoned lamb. “Jeez, Rhodes you say it like my son can’t start out big.” Tony lifted his wine glass to his lips with a stubborn glint to his eyes, he always did get protective of his son.

“I never said that-” Rhodey was cut off by a phone's ringtone chiming. Tony grunted and pulled out his stark phone with an annoyed air to him. Rhodey looked over to Peter and gave a pleading look, “I never said that Pete.” Peter laughed under his breath and lifted his champagne flute towards Rhodey in a tribute to his faith in the man. “I know Rhodey.”

Rhodey smiled and saluted his glass back, sipping his white wine and looking over at Bruce trying to not grimace at his meal. “Whoever thought to themselves that, “oh yes lamb's tongue sounds like a great meal to serve” should be in prison.” that got Peter smiling wider and knocked the toe of his heel to Bruce’s shin lightly, playfully.

The rest of the dinner was spent with laughs and more teasing, but soon rolled into business talk like it usually trickled into with every event they go to. But before his dad started going on one of his rants on his current projects, Dr. Banner quickly set his wine glass down from lifting to his mouth and hurriedly said: “Maybe we shouldn’t get into details while Peter is still here?”. The words make Peter stop mid-bite and look up from his plate to see the shifty eyes of one Dr. Banner and Tony Stark. Rhodey seemed just as confused and paused in his own autopilot of taking a sip from his tumbler. But before Peter could try and butt in and demand a reason, the waiter came by and asked if they would like any dessert, to which Peter got distracted by his father shoving a menu of the small assortment of desserts the restaurant served. Tony knew his son had a thing for sweets and got lost in his own world easily once he focused on something else. One point to daddy Stark and zero to the poor spawn of the billionaire.

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

A Chance Meeting

So it turns out I have absolutely no self control.  So here you are; Thorin POV of ADM.  Enjoy, and be sure to let me know what you think!

Part 1 of ‘Matters of the Heart’.  Link to Series Masterlist

Thorin’s POV of A Deep Misunderstanding

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Estel

Word Count:  2,267

Warning(s):  Rude Thorin, a mild swear word or two

~~~~

I turned the map in my hands, trying to make sense of the twisting pathways of The Shire.  

Damn those Hobbits and their complicated city designs.  Why couldn't everything be straight instead of twirling around in circles?!

Glancing up to compare a street name on the map with those upon the wooden marker, I scowled in frustration.  I had already gone down the wrong path once, and I did not wish to repeat my mistake.  Well, then there was the other street I went down and got lost in.

"Why didn't the blasted wizard think to mention that there are multiple streets named after the same bloody plant?"  I grumbled to myself, striding down a pathway that seemed to match one on the map the aforementioned wizard had given me at our last meeting.

The dirt was well-trodden beneath my boots; pebbles crunching lightly with each step I took.  A light breeze gently guided the few clouds scudding across the bright full moon that lit my way.  The faded emerald flannel of my cloak and the hot Dwarvish blood that ran through my veins was enough to shield me from the breeze, but all the same I pulled the cloth tighter around me, disguising my figure.

The last thing I wanted was one of these Hobbits making a fuss about a Dwarf wandering through their streets in the dead of night.  That would just be the icing upon the cake to this already disastrous night.

Just then, I came to the top of the hill; a picket fence surrounding a round Hobbit dwelling that had the mark of Gandalf etched on the green door.  Vaguely, I could make out the sound of raucous singing and loud voices from where I stood.

Mahal, I was late.

Heaving a sigh of relief at finally reaching my destination, I opened the gate and trudged through up the cobblestones.  Stepping up onto the doorstep, I thumped thrice upon the door; my frustration getting the better of me.

Instantly the noise died down and silence fell upon the moonlight night.  I turned my gaze to one of the windows, trying to see who had all arrived before me.  

Then the door creaked open and I turned my head to look through it, gazing at Gandalf who was bent double as he stood in the entryway of the Hobbit hole.  A Hobbit stood just behind him, looking thoroughly put out.

"Gandalf.  I thought you said this place would be easy to find.  I lost my way, twice."  I murmured in a low voice, stepping inside.  "I wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."  I undid the chain fastening my cloak around my neck and pulled the garment off; folding it neatly and setting it aside.

"Mark?"  The Hobbit exclaimed, pattering over to the door to peer at it as Gandalf pushed it shut.    "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"  He protested.  I ignored the peeved Hobbit and gazed around at my surrounds with a smile on my face.

Comfort was a word that described this place perfectly, and comfort was something that I longed for after a long journey from the Blue Mountains.

"There is a mark, I've put it there myself."  Gandalf replied to the Hobbit before turning to look over at me.  "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."  

I looked down upon the Hobbit, stepping closer to study him with a close eye.  "So, this is the Hobbit."  I murmured, disbelieving that this was whom Gandalf had talked so highly of.  Crossing my arms, I shifted on my feet.  "Tell me Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"  I inquired roughly, walking around the Hobbit to look him over.

He looked small and used to the comforts of home; hardly someone I would take along on a arduous quest.  He would be more of a liability than an asset.

The Hobbit shuffled on his feet, looking utterly bewildered.  "Pardon me?"  

I continued on with my questioning, taking in the fine linens he wore.  "Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"  I asked, coming back to face the Hobbit.

He rocked in place, glancing down at the ground before returning my gaze.  "Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know."  He replied saucily, "but I fail to see why that's relevant."

I refrained from rolling my eyes, turning away from the Hobbit to look over at the others who had clustered in the doorway.  "I thought as much.  He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."  I smirked, looking back at Kili who grinned and laughed at my poking fun at the Hobbit.

The Hobbit looked disgruntled at my words, but stayed silent as I walked past him towards the doorway where Dwalin stood.  He and Balin turned and led me through the kitchen and into the dining room.

There in the dining room, a raven-haired woman worked at stacking plates; her back towards us as she picked up a pile.  Turning around, she started in surprise upon catching sight of us standing there, but kept her hold upon the plates.  

I was not one for petty, emotional feelings, but it would be a lie if I denied that I did not feel fluttering within my disloyal heart.  I was embarking on a dangerous quest; I had no reason to be lusting after a pretty dame.  But yet there was something about her that attracted me.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"  I asked with a raised brow, curious as to why the Hobbit had a Dwarrowdame in his home.  They were rare enough within Dwarvish colonies, so how did she come to be in these parts?  

But before she could respond, Gandalf spoke up from behind me.  "Her name is Estel and I brought her along with me because I believe she can be of use on this quest of yours."

I turned to look at him, unsure if my ears were working properly.

Take Dwarrowdame along on a quest that might very well claim all our lives?  I should think not!  Particularly if she is as attractive...NO!  I cannot think of her in such a way.  I had no business pining after a dame.

"I do not think that she can be of any help on this quest, Gandalf.  We do not need another person to look after..."  I murmured meaningfully, but Gandalf paid no attention me and went on to take his place at the table.

The lass--Estel--was quick to hurry away with her load of plates, heading into the kitchen where she lingered.  I took a seat at the head of the table as the rest of my companions made their way back into the room and found a seat.  

Everyone talked quietly as they waited for some unknown signal, but I remained preoccupied in my thoughts.  I had seen many different dames during my lifetime, but none--not even the most beautiful--had sparked such feelings as Estel had when my gaze fell upon her.  

It was not like she was different--oh, but she was--she was shorter in stature, sturdy, dark-haired with blue eyes that glimmered like sapphires or kyanite gems found deep within the mines.  No different than any other dame I had ever met.

But yet, she was entirely different all at the same time.  Such a contradictory thing, but true nonetheless.

Soft footsteps sounded behind me, and the woman preoccupying my thoughts appeared at my side with a bowl in her hands.

"We saved some of this back for you, Master Thorin."  She murmured softly, setting the bowl down in front of me.  I gazed up at her delicate features--ignoring how my heart fluttered as I took in the slight smile she wore.  

"Thank you, Miss Estel."  I nodded, and she nodded back before turning away to settle herself beside Bofur.

Jealousy rose within me like a dragon as Bofur turned to talk quietly with her.  She laughed softly at something he said and I resisted the urge to bolt upright and separate them.  Why did it matter?  It was not as if she was my One or anything.  These were just lustful feelings brought about by my long journey.  Nothing more.

But Balin's voice drew my attention away from the raven-haired lass.  "What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?"  He inquired, setting his elbows on the table before him as he leaned forward with interest.  "Did they all come?"

I swallowed my mouthful of warm broth and nodded, pushing aside all thoughts other than the quest we were embarking on.  "Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms...."

Later, after the Hobbit had fainted upon hearing the description of Smaug, I lingered in one of the hallways with Balin.  We watched as the Hobbit walked away from Gandalf, and Balin let out a sigh.

"It appears we have lost our burglar.  Probably for the best.  The odds were always against us.  After all, what are we?  Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy makers.  Hardly the stuff of legend."  He bemoaned, and my gaze flickered over to him as he stood across from me.

"There are a few warriors amongst us."  I countered softly, but Balin shook his head.

"Old warriors."

"I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills, for when I called upon them, they answered."  I murmured, "loyalty, honour, a willing heart.  I can ask no more than that."

That was all they had to offer in the first place.

Balin watched me carefully as I twisted the key Gandalf had given to me in my fingers.  "You don't have to do this.  You have a choice.  You've done honourably by our people.  You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains.  A life of peace of plenty.  A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor."  He said quietly, but I only shook my head gently.

"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me.  They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland.  There is no choice, Balin.  Not for me."  

Balin smiled, his eyes twinkling at me.  "Then we are with you, laddie.  We will see it done."

I smiled gratefully at the elder Dwarrow, knowing that what I asked was no small feat.  We all ran the risk of losing our lives in this quest.

~~~~

Following my conversation with Balin, we made our way into the sitting room where the rest of the Dwarrows had begun to gather before the fire.  Instantly, my eyes sought out Estel and after a moment I found her sitting alone, cradling a mug in her hands as she stared into the flames.

Upon my entrance, she glanced up and her gaze met mine for a instant before she looked away again, looking down at her mug.

Ignoring the urge to go and talk with her, I walked over to the mantlepiece, leaning against it and staring down into the orange and yellow flames that danced to unheard music.  

Slowly, I began to hum, losing myself in thoughts and memories of a day long past; a day when fire lit up the sky and ground shook beneath the feet of a dragon.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold.  To dungeons deep and caverns old.  We must away ere break of day.  To find our long forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night.  The fire was red, it flaming spread.  The trees like torches blazed with light.

Gradually, the rest joined in, choosing either to sing aloud or hum the melody.  The room filled with the heavy weight of sorrow as those old enough to remember the day recalled everything that had happened.  I scanned the room, my gaze lingered on the lass.

She sat mutely, her brow furrowed as she listened to the words.  Vaguely, I wondered how old she was.  Perhaps she was around Kili's age and had only heard the stories about that fateful day.  

I continued to watch her as the last notes faded away, the room falling silent once more, save for the crackling of the fire.  Drawing a deep breath, I pushed away from the mantlepiece and walked over to Estel, seating myself by her side.

It was strange; I felt nervous about approaching her.  

"Miss Estel, do you not know this song?"  I inquired in a low voice, and she turned her head to look at me; raven locks spilling over her shoulder to cascade down her back.

"No, Master Thorin.  I have never heard it before."  She answered, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't?"

"No."  She bit her lower lip, drawing my gaze to it.  

I wanted nothing more than to steal a taste...  Mahal, what was I thinking?  

Drawing in a deep breath, I reluctantly focused my gaze on her eyes.  Estel continued to gnaw on her lip--driving me mad--as she glanced out the window behind the two of us.

"It is high time for me to call it a night I believe.  I will see you early tomorrow, Master Thorin."  She nodded to me as she rose to her feet; shooting me a smile that shouldn't have caused my heart to flutter like it did.

I had no business falling in love.

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[yeselbeethings]

konoha’s sublime green beast

10 relationship headcanons for Might Guy

pairing: might guy x reader

a/n: similar vibe to the last relationship headcanons - any suggestions for who to do next would be appreciated. 

synopsis: a few tender moments, scenes from your relationship with Guy

warnings: nsfw content for the last few: general sex, fingering, oral.. the standard

The first time you meet Might Guy, you are stunned to silence. He sits with you and the other jōnin at the local bar and shares stories and you are completely hooked. Everything about him entrances you; his vibrancy, the way he speaks, the jumpsuit, the body, the size of his hands... he's so bright and youthful? Anko is the first to spot you staring, and when she drags you to help her at the bar with drinks, she says "oh yeah, Guy is a bit weird, we should have warned you", and in your tipsy state you remember replying "I dunno, he seems kind of cool?" You spend the rest of the night trying to catch his eye and striking up conversations. A few weeks later, he asks you on your first date, and your shoulders shake with laughter when you accept and he cheers something about youth.

Guy goes through his signature jumpsuits at an alarming pace. Sometimes they rip straight through the middle of the crotch, other times they wear through at the thighs, more often than not they simply succumb to the general wear and tear of being a ninja. You take lurid green jumpsuits that develop rips on the arms from being snagged on trees, and thus are no use to Guy anymore, and repurpose them. You cut the top section off and cut the leg just above the knees and wear them around the house with oversized t-shirts and sweatshirts. The upcycled shorts become part of your casual day off outfit, and you take to wearing them when you need to run errands around the village. It’s only right to carry on the Might family tradition in your own way.

Guy loves poetry, so much so it has seeped into his general way of speaking - most people just think it’s his odd turn of phrase, but you know it’s from years and years of devouring any poetry he can get his hands on - especially after Duy’s death. Your tiny shared apartment is filled with poetry books, from every village and spanning centuries. Guy needs reading glasses and has done since his teen years - he can read mission scrolls etc. with little trouble but if he needs or wants to read for more than a few minutes he takes out the gold-rimmed round glasses that live in a basket full of odd bits and pieces that don’t have a true home in the apartment and slips them on. He pushes his hair from his forehead slightly and lies down on the floor to settle into the latest thing he’s picked to read. He keeps a small battered red leather-bound book on his nightstand; it’s a second-hand copy of a collection of Warring States era poetry. Guy scribbles in the margins of all his books, but this one is littered with annotations and underlinings. On rainy nights, while you rest your head on his broad bare chest, Guy will hold you close and read a poem or two from this book to you. Uncharacteristically quiet, measured, and serious, his voice is like honey. When he goes away on long missions, you’ll often find a note resting on top of the book with a page number and line number written on it, you know to save peaking at that passage for a particularly hard moment, when you wish his gentle voice and inspiring words were there to comfort you.

One of the major challenges of being in a relationship with Might Guy is the sheer volume of food he consumes. His strict training regime and huge energy output mean that Guy eats up to 14 meals a day; all carefully nutritionally balanced. So much of both of your free time is dedicated to bulk cooking, preparing bento boxes, dehydrating fruit and vegetables, boiling eggs, steaming fish... Guy appreciates every second you put into helping him with his training and diet. Whenever you both have a free day in the village he hand writes you a note and leaves it in the kitchen with a cup of fresh coffee resting on top inviting you to dinner. Guy always chooses the most comfortable places, with home-style food and free-flowing sake and beers. He insists you order anything and everything you want, reminding you to leave room for dessert. He holds your hand over sticky tables, wearing a T-shirt and standard-issue jōnin trousers, smiling at you widely as you share dumplings and scallion pancakes dripping with black vinegar and chili oil. When you leave the restaurant, completely full, he pulls you into his arms and kisses you deeply, a large tanned hand on the back of your head and his other pulling you into him by the small of your back. You don’t know what makes you feel drunker; the sake, the food, or the depth of his kiss.

After your first few dates, you promised to cook for Guy at your apartment. Already knowing his love of curry, you silently vowed to yourself that you would wean him off that S&B curry roux blocks he always seemed to be purchasing when you ran into him in the village. The first time you cooked him a curry, he leant his hip against your kitchen cabinet, sipping a jasmine tea, and with rapt attention listened to you explain which different spices you'd be using for the curry paste. Guy would explain the medicinal uses for each one as you measured them out, all of them known to him already due to his extensive herbal medicine knowledge. This is the moment you knew that you'd fallen in love, listening to Guy explain to you that to activate the medicinal properties of turmeric, you'd need some fresh black pepper, with Guy showing you the best time to add garlic to preserve the allicin to ward off colds. While he explained to you all the properties, you told him what would work together and what wouldn't, to ensure that the finished curry paste would actually taste delicious and not just be a mash of flavours and chili. When your relationship deepened and you eventually came to share an apartment, a weekly curry night for Team 10 emerged, with Neji, Tenten and Lee sat around your large dining table, eating whatever curry you'd made that week. You sit there, smiling, as Guy explains how each component in the curry will help them become even more splendid shinobi.

At some point, you acquired a small turtle-shaped chalkboard, that hangs from a red ribbon on the handle of one of the kitchen cabinets. In the back of your mind, you think it was originally for reminders, but somewhere along the way, it got commandeered to record the results of Kakashi and Guy's challenges. You remember searching the rubble after Pain's attack to find it, sifting through tattered pages and broken ceramics in the vague hopes that it would be intact enough to save.

It is Hana Inuzuka who holds you tight around the stomach when you see the sky fill red during the 4th Shinobi War. Years ago, Guy had told you that he believed the time would come when he would eventually open the eight gate and that he would become Konoha’s red beast. he told you what would happen, from what he had gathered from the limited research on the topic. That he would burn hot as the sun and his body would disintegrate and he would fill the atmosphere as hot ash. You had sat in stunned silence at the man’s resolve and acceptance. Hana’s firm grip was suffocating around your stomach, and you could feel the eyes of members of the allied forces staring at you as you struggled, screaming. When the Infinite Tsukuyomi takes hold of you, you dream of chubby babies wearing green with pitch-black hair and iron grips, and a sweet uncle with white eyes and flowing clothes.

After the war and Guy’s discharge from the hospital, you find yourselves lost in your relationship. Guy becomes a shadow of himself, constantly encouraging you to leave, to let him wallow in peace, and for a brief few moments, you let yourself think that you could. The strain is unbearable at times, Guy considering himself unable to be your partner and you unable to reach the lightest parts of him. It is the 6th Hokage, Kakashi Hatake’s arrival on your doorstep, a new turtle chalkboard in hand that begins to turn the tide of Guy’s grief, and the pain in your relationship. Each week, Kakashi arrives for tea, and each week he issues a new challenge. It takes 6 months until Guy caves and agrees to go along with the rock paper scissors battle. He wins, 50-47. You mark the turtle chalkboard. Guy: 1, Lord 6th: 0. It hangs in your bedroom, and slowly the board becomes a mottled grey, with old chalk stains and the ghost of numbers. Guy begins training with Rock Lee again. He begins reading poetry again. His appetite climbs and climbs, and in the darkness of the night, he holds your hands and tells you he’s so so grateful you stayed - you are too.

Guy loves giving you head. He licks short wide tongued across your clit repeatedly and waits to hear your breath hitch and feel your hips twitching before he switches his tactic, enveloping your whole clit into his mouth and humming deeply as he licks and sucks, his bottom jaw rhythmically moving until your moans become deeper and longer, his hands pressing your hips into the bed. He loves it when you card your hands through his hair and grind into him. Sometimes he lets you cum like this, hips rising to meet his mouth and your fingers grasping at the sheets crying out his name, other times he edges you by drawing you closer and closer to your climax and allowing two fingers to slowly stretch you out in time with the licks of his tongue. He stops when you’re beginning to feel the pleasurable heat build and build and throws your legs up, moving quickly and lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you before your pleasure completely dissipates. He fucks you, giving himself a moment of relief before stopping to continue where he had stopped moments before, head between your legs and eyes looking up at you, dark and heavy, watching your chest brace and your muscles tense, pushing you over the edge in a few minutes, switching back to being inside you before the waves of pleasure have subsided so he can feel the clenching of your muscles around him and bring you quickly over the edge for a second time.

Even within your relationship, Guy has set himself personal challenges. When he is thrusting into you, or his fingers are deep inside you while his thumb rubs circles over your clit and your mouth hangs open, gasping and your hair is sticking to your face as you groan underneath him, overstimulated and hazy, he leans down and whispers into your ear - one more, okay? give me one more.

[nyctolovian]

Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder. 

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…" 

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood. 

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily  muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition." 

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity. 

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question. 

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them. 

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime. 

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again. 

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

 Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear. 

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips, 

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled. 

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm." 

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone. 

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring. 

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions. 

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for. 

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!" 

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call. 

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder… 

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat. 

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table. 

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight. 

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing. 

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity... 

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.60

Lance found himself having fun. Not having his glasses on made his vision too good, so he’d had a rather lousy start. His first bullet hit Keith’s target square in the groin, completely accidentally. Both of them feeling sympathy for the poor piece of paper. For the last three rounds they turned it into a competition. Lance losing the first one because a smiley face wasn’t approved marksmanship. He won the next two, Keith accepting that he could handle a gun if needed. Lance praying that it’d never be needed. He didn’t like the feel of pulling the trigger, even to hit a bit of paper. A smiley face was his way of coping with it... quietly certain Keith would never let him near a gun again, despite it majorly because he declared himself the “sharpshooter of their date”.

With time before dinner, Keith took him on a longer ride on his bike. This time Lance having the courage to watch the world a pass by. It was kind of how he imagined flying to be. Kind of weightless, except way louder... Seeing Platt from a bike gave him a whole new perspective. Seeing Platt from a bike while openly able to hang onto his boyfriend was kind of nice. Lance totally didn’t think Keith had done as much research as he had. Not until his boyfriend took him up some random dirty track that lead up the hills to the east of the city. Parking at the top, Lance realised they were were at a look out. The whole of Platt below them just as the sun was setting. One by one lights were coming on, lost in the orange and pink hues of the sun. He might not have been keen of the gun range, but this was nice. Or it was nice until Keith realised what the time was and that they’d be late for their reservation. Next time they came up, Lance would bring a picnic so they could watch the sunset and then the stars. Maybe bring Kosmo... He missed Kosmo.

With Keith’s driving, and a few “oh, god were going to die” moments, they were 10 minutes late for their reservation. Keith flustered when told their table had been given away. His boyfriend nearly in tears as he apologised for ruining things. Leading Keith away from the restaurant’s reception, a fancy dinner in a hotel would have been nice, but honestly he was just happy to spend time with Keith in the outside world. Finding the bathrooms as he panicked over where they could talk, he dragged his boyfriend in with him, locking the door behind them.

Leading Keith over to the bathroom counter, Lance wasn’t sure what he was doing, only that he wanted Keith to know he wasn’t mad

“Babe...”

“I’m so sorry. In my head we had time and I was going to spoil you...”

Keith’d head was hung, unable to look him in the face

“I don’t need fancy food”

“But it was going to be special”

“It is special”

“It’s not what I had planned. We were going to have dinner then spend the night. Allura already picked the keycard up and the room was all organised and now we...”

“Hang on. We have a room here?”

Keith nodded, a hand coming up to wipe at his tears a little too forcefully

“Allura helped me find this place... it was supposed to be a surprise”

With his free hand, Keith dug the hotel keycard, sniffling as he did. Lance instantly seeing how the night could be “unruined”

“Babe. I’ve got an idea”

“What?”

“We have a room. And you know what, we can order room service”

“But that’s not special. I wanted this to be special for you”

“I don’t need special. I need my boyfriend to be happy. Besides, we can order whatever we want, and we don’t even have to wear clothes, and I won’t have to leave the table to... well, you know”

Keith let out a shaky breath, before replying

“I feel like I let you down”

“No, babe. We were barely even late. They were the ones who gave our table away. Both of us are so awkward we’d probably forgotten how to use a fork, or totally choked, or I would have laughed too loud and shown off my fangs probably making some rich old lady faint into her soup. I’m totally fine with room service, if you’re fine with going upstairs with me”

“You do laugh pretty loudly”

Lance groaned. He couldn’t help that sometimes Keith said some of the funniest things he’d ever heard

“I can’t help it”

“I like it when you laugh”

“Funnily enough I like it too. Oooh... let’s take a shower before room service, then in then in the can steal the bathrobes”

“You’re really okay with this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, babe. All I want to do is spend some time with you”

*

Their hotel room had had the Curtis and Allura treatment. The pair were a menace. Sitting on the plush white blankets was a gift basket, initially the gesture was sweet. Two bottles of Lance’s favourite wine, a bag of blood, some chocolates. Things were looking good... until you looked under the top layer. Condoms. Lube. A pair of handcuffs... something pink in plastic... something with lace. Keith was struck dumb as he looked at the basket, Lance covering things back up with the bottles of wine

“Let’s just pretend we didn’t see that. Curtis is off my Christmas card list”

Picking up the basket, Lance carried it over to the two seater dining table... the basket looking a little sad there.

The whole room was beautiful. Tones of teal and white with soft wood furnishings. The art above the bed was probably questionable given as educated as he was, he couldn’t work out what it was supposed to be other than greenness on a canvas. It had its own small kitchenette, living area, and the biggest mirror he’d ever scene, which covered the fact it was a TV. Now they were alone Lance was feeling nervous again. Moving to stare out the floor to ceiling windows, he watched Keith come up behind him, a shiver running down his spine as Keith kissed his neck, arms looping around the vampire’s waist

“Pretty”

Lance didn’t know what Keith meant

“Yeah. The view from here is amazing”

“I meant you, idiot”

Nuzzling into Lance’s neck, Lance wondered if Keith was happy or horny. Maybe both? His boyfriend’s boy up against him in the shooting range had definitely gotten to him. He felt safe as Keith caged his body with his, kind of like they were two puzzle pieces coming together. It was fitting really. Lance was trying to puzzle out what Keith saw in him

“This room is kind of amazing”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about before. Allura might have a point about me being stressed”

“I know you don’t have the easiest job and you don’t have to tell me, but you don’t have to think about that tonight”

“I’m definitely not thinking about anything other than you... and food”

Lance went weak. Turning in Keith’s arms, Lance’s lips found Keith’s. Weeks of small kisses, the occasional make out section bubbled over. Keith pushing him up against the glass as he kissed him back as hard. Stopping as he tasted Keith’s blood, Lance let out a deep breath. Keith was hungry and this rate they were likely to skip straight to dessert

“We should take a shower”

Whelp. Fuck. He’d meant to say Keith should take a shower while Lance ordered them room service

“Yeah. We should”

Keith’s voice was low and Lance knew he was fucked... or very soon to be.

*

Keith didn’t know what it was that put him in the mood. He still felt bad about missing the dinner reservation, and knew a Lance hadn’t been keen on his self defence lesson. He’d planned a nice long ride with his boyfriend, misreading the time on his phone when they’d left. But now he was in the shower with Lance, he couldn’t keep his hands off his boyfriend.

Keith had wanted today to be perfect. Pidge still wasn’t talking to Lance and Keith had to work with Lotor who was feeding them nothing. 4 more dead vampires, all over the damn city. The last one was a vampire and a werewolf left in a park. Not a pretty sight or a fun time. Then there was the fact that even though Lance was in Platt, he felt so far away when they weren’t together. Allura had Lance helping her, Lance was also keeping up with his private work, Keith’s schedule was shit and Kosmo didn’t want to pee outside when the grass was wet instead saving that for next to Keith’s bed. Keith would never press Lance for sex, they hadn’t done much more than kissing in weeks, so maybe that was why now that they were finally really alone, he couldn’t stop touching his boyfriend.

On his knees, Keith had one of Lance’s long smooth legs over his shoulder, Lance’s hands in his hair as he rocked his hips. The tiled floor wasn’t working for him, not the way Lance’s moans were. Lance’s wetness rolling down his fingers as he prepped his boyfriend. Pulling off Lance’s dick, Keith gazed up at his boyfriend, jaw kind of aching and not sure if he’d been doing things right as Lance hadn’t come

“Babe?”

“I’m good... come back up here and kiss me”

Keith’s knees cracked as he stood, feeling old rather than sexy. Rinsing his mouth under the warm water, Lance giggled at him

“Who thought someone who sucked dick so good would show such manners. I knew you were a catch”

Keith rolled his eyes, pumping out a little more body wash to use as improvised lube

“Tell me that again when you’re screaming”

Lance smiled coyly, hand sliding across Keith’s side and down to grope his arse

“You best come closer then...”

“Oh, yeah, why’s that...”

“Because if you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’m going to break”

Keith was ashamed... kind of.. the sex was good. Hard, fast, sloppy, with Lance’s shoulders against the bathroom wall, arms over Keith’s shoulders, legs around Keith’s waist as he gripped his boyfriend’s arse fucking Lance on his dick more than his boyfriend riding him. Lance was flushed, fangs bared, hot as hell as he came up his stomach. Keith barely remembered he didn’t have a condom on and pulled out to come across Lance’s arse and the wall, legs shaking because fuck if he hadn’t come and hard and nearly had his orgasm torn out of him by Lance clenching around him. Leaning in, they both panted into the kiss, smiles on the corners of their lips. Keith wouldn’t say it, but he’d definitely come to appreciate Lance’s arse in a whole other way. He felt close to Lance when they had sex... not like... he didn’t know really. But like... it felt right with him.

Resting against each other, Lance suddenly jerked his head back, voice shaking

“Fuck... condom...”

Shit. Fuck... right... he’d made it in time... only just

“I pulled out...”

Lance kissed him hard, then peppered kisses to his lips, thanking him between them

“Thank god... I mean... just...”

Keith got it. Zero offence. They could barely work themselves out. He couldn’t even work a toaster and he was kind of sure there were laws against giving your kids nothing but coffee

“We’re not ready for kids”

“No”

“It’s fine”

Lance kissed him again

“Good... fuck... I think you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t feel anything beneath my hips other than my heart beat”

“Is that a good thing?”

Keith didn’t get it...

“Oh, babe... it is when you’re to blame for it”

Drying off after their prolonged shower, Lance insisted they were the fluffy bathrobes provided. Keith feeling a bit weird about nothing covering his junk... or Lance’s junk. His cheeks red when his boyfriend let his slip a little to show his thigh. Lance was either messing with him, or completely unaware as he picked up the hotel file on the bedside table. Keith swallowing hard and looking away... He couldn’t just jump Lance again... even if he wanted to... but he was also happy sitting on the bed with him, arm around his shoulder as Lance lent his head against his shoulder

“Ta-dah! Now, somewhere in here should be the room service menu... and before you say it, I know I’m a snack but you can’t eat me”

“You’re the one with the fangs. Shouldn’t I be worried about you eating me?”

Lance started flicking through the file

“Nope. What do you feel like?”

“Kind of squishy, a bit muscly... Human, I think”

Lance snorted with laughter, shaking his head

“Babe... that was bad and you should feel bad”

Keith pouted. He thought he was being witty. His brain cells had been taxed enough worrying that he’d ruined their whole night by being late

“I thought I was funny”

Lance elbowed him lightly before snuggling closer

“Totally hilarious. Ah, here it is... Jesus... I could make this... some of this... I could make the garlic bread”

Keith looked over Lance’s shoulder to read the menu. The problem with fancy places was that they couldn’t just give things normal names that were easy to pronounce. He felt kind of dumb

“I don’t know what most of this is”

“That’s because you didn’t grow in a house were food meant family time... or have a Hunk and a vampire’s memory. I think I’m going to have the pork”

Keith couldn’t see anything about pork

“It says pork?”

“It says porc with a “c”. “Agnaeu” is lamb. Aaaand my French is terrible. I wish I could forget being taught French... high school was not fun”

“How come?”

“Because like every damn test I’ve had in years I have to be careful. I can’t be... it’s weird if I’m getting perfect scores, but I don’t want to be too dumb...”

Keith hadn’t thought about it. He’d done what he could in high school but there gaps in his schooling. If he did too good in class they’d made fun of him. If he did too badly then he was a dumb delinquent. He didn’t want to think about it

“I get that... I don’t know what to order”

“Ohhh.. look, they’ve got pizza”

Lance was trying too hard now. He probably meant nothing by it, wanting to keep the mood

“We can get pizza any time”

“Ahhh... but can you get pizza with blue cheese, balsamic glazed fennel, fig and pear?”

Keith wrinkled his nose

“That sounds revolting”

“I think the term you need is “abomination” ... oh they have meat lovers”

“Babe, we can’t order pizza”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re in a fancy hotel room”

“And?”

“And I might be dumb but you don’t have to baby me”

Lance snapped. Slamming the hotel file shut, as he turned to glare at him. Keith wasn’t sure how he’d set him off

“You’re not dumb. I’m not babying you”

“You swapped to pizza when you realised I couldn’t read the menu”

“It says under everything what it is, in that super small slopey print. You’re not dumb. Hell, if French hadn’t been forced upon me because Spanish wasn’t acceptable I wouldn’t know either”

“What do you mean Spanish wasn’t acceptable?”

“Wasn’t white enough for the public school we went to”

“That’s bullshit”

Lance settled back against him, fingers rubbing over the gold hotel logo on the file

“Mhmm. So I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything. I don’t know... I thought maybe pizza was more us?”

Pizza was more them.. but they could have pizza whenever

“Not tonight... I owe you a fancy dinner”

“Then do you want me to order for both of us? There’s pork, lamb, pasta, pizza...”

“They usually use heavy cream in pasta”

“Amateurs use heavy cream. Carbonara is supposed to be eggs”

“Is pasta fancy?”

He didn’t want to be... Uncultured

“Babe. If you want pasta, you’re having pasta. I’m dying for some properly cooked vegetables... and I think I’m going to try the French fruit tart”

“I think I’ll try what you’re having...”

��Okay. But I’ll order a different dessert so we can share. Why don’t you find something to watch?”

Keith didn’t like being confused again. He hadn’t seen a TV

“Watch?”

“The mirror is a TV... did you notice?”

“I was too busy looking at you”

“Smooth. I might choose to believe that. Just don’t pick porn, they charge extra for that”

It took Keith a few moments to realise Lance said porn

“They have porn?”

“Oh, babe... Oh... On second thought you order that porn. You have a lot to learn about being skeevy in a hotel room”

He’d never done this before...

“When did you become an expert?”

Should he be jealous? Lance let out a bark of laughter

“I’m highly trained in the ways of movie watching... plus, I’m planning on doing some pretty skeevy things with you later”

“Like watching porn?”

“Like eating dinner in bed while watching a bad horror movie”

“I don’t know if that qualifies?”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re in for the “full Lance experience”

And what an experience it was.

[nisaadventures]

I’m turning 30 in 10 days... yikes.

The last year of my life has sucked... lol. Okay, it wasn’t all bad. I’m exaggerating... but I’m also not. I know there were plenty of nice moments in the last year... but when I think about the last year of my life, its just full of so many firsts... awful firsts... 

First time celebrating their birthdays without them...

First holiday season without them... anyone else miss mom’s turkey? Most people don’t like traditional thanksgiving dinner because the turkey is more often dry... mom’s was never dry... Okay the key people.. Don’t actually cook your stuffing in the turkey. Its just going to suck all the juice life out of your bird... I mean come on. Trick #1 stuff the turkey with fresh cut oranges and yes, you can leave the skin on... #2 do majority of the oven time in an oven bag to keep the moisture in. #3 cook breasts down. Its the part thats usually most dry, so duh... keep it in the juicy, buttery goodness of the pan. I never made the entire meal, I usually just helped mom with everything. These are just some things I’ve taken away in my observations. 

Halloween trip to Disneyland without them... Disney is always a good time, but I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t feel heavy in some way... and that is saying something because Disneyland is my happy place lol. 

Looking forward to 2020... Hoping that it had so much better in store for us. 

Dear lord... what a joke. 

Going to Hawaii for our “family trip” without them...

A pandemic without them... I mean yes, I’m thankful they aren’t out there with COVID on the rise... I’m glad they’re not stuck at home because COVID. Mom and Michael are both too much of busy bees to be cooped up in the house for too long. 

Not going to lie... picking up where they left has been hard. All of moms plants... The dogs.. Taking care of the backyard, where Michael usually would. Mom would definitely do too much at once. She’d be out in the yard planting something and pulling out something else in her damn UGG boots! wth mom?! Those are expensive! lol. “Oh its fine.. I’ll wash them.” Omg lol. Either that, or she’d be over here trying to move heavy a$$ pots by herself and I’d have to stop her before she hurt her back. Ayiyi. 

Keanu and Aria’s birthdays without them... seeing my babies sad and missing their grandma, grandpa, and aunties has been hard. It will be out of nowhere sometimes... and all the nights of Aria waking up in the middle of the night crying. I feel you baby girl... I get it. I miss them too... Its okay to be sad... Mantras... 

You were her little rays of sunshine. Grandpa and grandma loved you SOOOO much. 

Mom would babysit the kids on Saturday mornings, while Kuya, Vaness, and I went to workout. They’d go get breakfast, pancakes and eggs, at UJs. She’d take them to Target, the dollar store, Walmart, etc. just so they could look and maybe get something to play with together. She always crafted with them. 

Living in this house... especially with COVID... has been hard. I miss just sitting at the dinner table, eating sho mi, and talking about work. Mom and Michael getting all worked up over some crazy manager, or something going down with the union.. yup, that’s where I get it from... advocacy and leadership skills FTW.  One thing they could always talk about for HOURS was work lol. 

I remember when I was a little girl, Mom would let me play in the bathtub until I was all wrinkled. She would let me bring all my toys into the tub. At one point I even had a care bear doll that she, for some reason, let me take in the bath lol. She’d throw it in the dryer for me after I was done. 

I remember going to the grocery store with mom and leaving with two full a$$ grocery carts because we had a full house at all times. I mean it was Kuya, my cousin Jojo, my brother Derric, my cousin John, Bubba, my cousin Jay, me and whoever else was over the house lol. When Kuya was in high school, it was all of his buddies partying at our house and crashing on the floor in the living room, dining room, and all the couches. She was the #1 host for sure.

“Are you hungry? Did you eat yet?” 

Thats love. 

All of Kuya’s high school friends called her Mom. My friends called her Mama Fern. She loved that. 

I remember playing hide n go seek in the dark in our tiny town house.. Later in the bigger house on Glenbriar... where mom actually tripped and broke her arm... But she laughed so hard she peed her pants, so she was a good sport? lol. Needless to say, we sort of stopped playing after that.

I remember making dim sum with mom for the first time. Such a hot mess, flour and food everywhere, but so fun. We definitely didn’t do that again until there were more adults around to help lol. Mom knew how to run through a kitchen like a tornado. Hot mess! but the best cook. 

Mom was always careful. She always wanted to make sure we were safe, that I was safe. I couldn’t go outside unless one of the boys was with me. When I would swim she would get nervous, even though I learned how to swim at a young age thanks to Kuya. One day, we were having a bbq, lots of family over, I was playing in the jacuzzi (drawing on the wall of the jacuzzi with a piece of chlorine... don’t play with chemicals kids lol) and she thought I was drowning? So she jumps her a$$ in there fully clothed and yanks my a$$ out. I was shocked as hell, so I naturally started crying hella hard and complaining about the fact that she scratched me when she yanked me up out of the water lol.

Keep in mind that that was not the first time one of the twins jumped into the pool fully clothed to “save” someone hahaha. 

 Speaking of fully clothed in the pool... The time auntie tripped and fell slo-mo style (that questionable, are you going to catch your balance, speed) into the pool LOL. Mom was dead laughing at her. Most hilarious video. 

Those twins lol. 

Jeeze.. speaking of the twins. They had this crazy connection. Tell me why when mom got sick with suspected viral meningitis and had to be hospitalized... Auntie straight up followed her right into the ICU with viral meningitis... 

Who remembers their 50th birthday? Talk about doing it BIG. So much fun. All the performances. Lani was there... KMA performances and kuya and John getting down for Maglalatik. Who doesn’t like seeing some half naked, buff dudes, bang coconuts together? haha. The twins getting down with their hula performance. Cute!

I remember when Mom and pops were going through their divorce and she would text me after midnight. I was going to Sac State and of course I was team NO sleep at the time. I would be in the AIRC studying. I’d comfort as best as I could from a distance... and then come home on weekends to be there with her when I could. 

She found her footing again. Started going to the gym with Kuya more... Started running all the time... all of her half marathons and finally she did the Nike Women’s Marathon. 

Hiking Half Dome with her. What.a.badass. 

That is really how I see her. She was so badass. When she was my age she had my 9 year old Kuya and I was on the way... She was working and supporting us and then eventually decided to make a better life for us, and went back to school... NURSING SCHOOL. wth. I can’t even imagine doing that right now, but reminding myself of where she has been and how much she PUT IN WORK... That keeps me grounded in the fact that we are responsible for our lives. If you want something, you have to work for it. You can’t just hope for better... you make better happen. 

I guess its that reminder... her strength... her and Michael’s love and hard work... That keeps me going. 

Being mindful... being thankful... acknowledging my own strength... 

But with that said... August has been increasingly hard. I don’t like to think about my birthday. I don’t even want to plan anything. They’re not here... I can’t celebrate with all my loved ones and friends. Thank you COVID... 

We’re just getting closer and closer to the anniversary? Nah.. lets not call it that... anniversary sounds like something nice... something to celebrate... This is NOT that. The day your loved ones are taken is not something to celebrate... I mean honestly, if I had to pinpoint the worst day of my life, that was it.... When I think about that day I can’t breathe. Terrible memories... so many sleepless nights. I’ve come so far. Its still hard, but I’ve come a long way. 

Anyway... this post is sort of random and nostalgic. Things I hold onto. Things that make me happy cry... Things that weigh heavy on my heart. 

Here’s my playlist for grief... reminders of them... collected over the last year:

Aloha for now -Kaleo Vai & Passion 

One day at a time -Jennifer Chung

In the end - Gabe Bondoc, Melissa Polinar, Passion

Round and around -Kolohe Kai

Fade Away -Rebelution

Alive -The Green

New Day -Kimie’

Angels above me -Stick Figure

Memories -Maroon 5

Wish you pain -Andy Grammer

100 -Katchafire

Everyday life -Coldplay

Out of the darkness -Isla vista worship, Bre Reed

Amen -Andra Day

Grateful -13 Crowns feat. Poo Bear

Rainbow Connection -Gwen Stefani

Be okay -ZOE worship 

With you -Eryn Allen Kane

Dont worry -Mesto feat. Aloe Blacc

Just livin’ -Sensi trails, Kbong

Remember me -Miguel, Natalia Lafourcade

Even more -Major

Let it be -Xav A.

Give Thanks -Iya terra, Stick figure

Mr. Sun -Sammy Johnson

Rest easy -Thrive, Nico of Tribal Theory

Sunny Days- Allen Stone

Today’s a new day -Common Kings

Mother’s Love -Jonah Jaxon, Micah G

The bones -Maren Morris, Hozier

Give you blue -Allen Stone

And we remain -Johnnyswim

Yellow -Kina Grannis

Streetcar -Daniel Caesar

Meant to be -Bebe Rexha, Florida georgia line

All you need to know -Gryffin, slander, Calle Lehmann

Like I’m gonna lose you -Jasmine Thompson

[makairodonx]

Keiko Tells A Story to Melinda

“Can you tell me a little summary of your exciting story?” Melinda asked me as we had tea together on a round wooden table at her house one summer night. “Sure,” I replied. “Here I go now...” “...It all started when my parents gave me a nice, shiny telescope for my fifteenth birthday. After receiving grim news that the Last Trian, an ancient, benevolent ruler of the Wider World, may not recover from a serious illness, I used my new birthday present to spot a mysterious comet landing far away upon a huge, ancient tree which was probably the last of its kind. Afterwards the Thubanians invaded the Southern Glens where I used to live for over fifteen years, and, despite my best efforts to stop their leader, Tarjus the Just, from threatening me and my family, I decided to run away into the surrounding woods so as to escape their onslaught, and after I fell asleep for a while, Venkula the Raccoon and her human master Robert Hide came to wake me up and tell me important news. They told me that they were both sent by the great prophet Magellon to find me here in these woods, while he magically whisked the rest of my family into his protective custody. So Venkula and Robert told me that Magellon knows that only I could fulfill a prophecy he foretold which concerns the fate of the Wider World following the death of the Last Trian: That after the Golden Orb falls upon the Lonely Tree, only a fifteen-year-old black-haired sorceress dressed in red, who could tame the forces of nature, can, with certain allies at her side, prevent two warring races from fighting over the Golden Orb and destroy the object herself, so that a hundred-thousand white birds may fly over the Forest of Hope where the Lonely Tree is.” “Nice...” Melinda said, “Keep it up, my friend!” “So Venkula and Robert magically turned my ragged clothes into a fine, crimson-red dress with a white collar, white sleeves and a white hem, replete with grey boots and a crimson-red hat with a white bow tied to the front, and my hair quickly grew longer till it almost reached my hips. With this new outfit the two told me that I now had magical powers related to controlling the natural elements and summoning the nature spirits to come at my side, and so, throughout my journey to reach the Lonely Tree, they said to me that it is very important for me to use my magical powers in bringing justice to the warring races for their actions towards nature and destroying the dangerous celestial spirit which hatches out of the Golden Orb, so that I could finally fulfill the prophecy as expected.” “Good...” Melinda replied, “So you had to use your magical powers when it came to stopping the Warring Races from spoiling the nature-ruled world around you wherever you went, right?” “Yes, Melinda,” I replied, “That’s right. Robert Hide and his pet raccoon Venkula told me that ever since the Golden Orb landed upon the Lonely Tree, the Thubanians and the Udoli have invaded and plundered the nature-ruled lands surrounding the Forest of Hope in search of the huge, ancient tree, so that they could seize the Orb held within its branches and use its very destructive power for their own greedy motives. They also told me that if I was to fail in preventing this from happening, then the entire Wider World might suffer the wrath of the great celestial spirit which hatches out of the Golden Orb upon getting aroused to anger. So Robert and Venkula said to me that throughout my journey to reach the Lonely Tree before the Warring Races do so, I can manipulate the four natural elements of Water, Earth, Air and Fire, summon forth any powerful nature spirits to assist me, or cast any sorts of spells, all for the use of either stopping the Thubanians from building a factory, logging down a forest, or polluting a river, or stopping the Udolai from terrorizing villages of innocents, hunting down any spirits or harassing those who revere them, and so forth. All this proved to be highly important for the health of all the nature-ruled lands I visited, as well as for those who venerate the nature spirits for keeping their lands sacred and pure...and above all, proving to others around me wherever I went that I was a young sorceress of great renown, steadfast in bringing justice to the actions of Warring Races so that they won’t be able to invade the Forest of Hope, and therefore fulfill the prophecy concerning the destruction of the Golden Orb which rests in my magic hands and not theirs.” “Nice, Keiko...So did Robert Hide and Venkula the Raccoon give you a short, little tutorial on how to use your magic powers the right and proper way? For I’ve seen from others that you have not attended a school for young sorceresses like you lately.” “Ummm....” I explained, “Of course they did. It was Robert who, out of thin air, presented me with some small obstacles for me to face with any of the natural elements to manipulate at hand. He told me that it is Water which works against Fire, it is Earth which works against Air, and so forth, and it was also he who said to me that most of the Elements are represented as balls or streams of colored flame which fly straight out of the user’s hands to inflict certain levels of damage against opponents when used for combat purposes. Venkula also said that I should only use the elements for benevolent purposes only, such as for healing others, and she also gave me a special kind of whistle called the ‘Spirit Whistle’ which I could use to summon any nature spirits to help me out in any situations which require their use, such as for when it comes to going across a difficult area which cannot be easily traversed by foot, or whenever I encounter bands of the Warring Races intent on threatening others into their submission. She and her master also taught me how to cast spells and heal others correctly as well.” “So after this quick tutorial, you were all set to go on your long adventure to the Forest of Hope...with your..companions?” “Yes, Melinda. It was the audacious Robert who helped me to get along with people whom I was not familiar with, while his wise pet raccoon gave me practical advice on any decisions I was to make, as well as important tips on how to seek understanding with the Warring Races without ever having to bring revenge upon them for their actions, as well as some clever little jokes sometimes...and I clearly remember one big tip of advice from her, and it is that ‘your eyes shall not be blinded by hate as you find anything bad which exists in anything good, and anything good which exists in anything bad.’” “Wow...” Melinda said, “What a nice saying!” “Anyway....” I continued, “throughout my journey, I had loving companions with whom I could talk and relate to, and they both served as important guides of information for all the places, landmarks, people, creatures and objects I would stumble upon each strange, new land I came across. And they also gave me a special diary which would automatically create a new page each time I complete the previous one, and permanently save all that I wrote, so that the collective memory of all my travels, and what I did at the time, will never be forgotten....for anyone like you and I to read!” “That’s wonderful! I hope your stories will live on and on for others to see-“ I giggled with a small smile. “I hope I may get a successful career as a prolific writer of short and long stories, perhaps!” -followed by some more giggling. “But well, then, let’s get back to the journey for now. Are you ready?” “Of course I am,” Melinda replied, “Go ahead.” “Okay...” I began. “I happened to do so many things and deeds at the time that they’re all properly recorded in the pages of my diary...but let me just tell you about nearly all that I did throughout those weeks and weeks to crescent the Lonely Tree and fulfill the prophecy regarding the Golden Orb, though. “So I first went down to the Green Marshes, which my companions said was the home of the Udolai, the dark-skinned spear-wielding enemies of the Thubanians. After exploring the swampy forests, we crossed a small river with the use of a single vine hanging from one of the trees, and then I used a wooden canoe to cross a great cypress swamp which was full of many birds and other creatures. And after rowing past a giant steamboat and through a fishing village on stilts, we headed straight to the nearby woods to spend the coming night, and we slept on the branches of one of the big trees. Soon, as the full moon rose up over the woods, a small herd of Moon-Crests came by to munch on the leaves of the trees and bushes before our eyes...and quickly disappeared behind the brush, since my companions told me that they were very shy creatures not eager to come near mankind, and that much of their woodland homes have been destroyed by the logging activities of the Warring Races for a while. “The next day, we went out to explore more of the Green Marshes, which included seeing two Hook-Jaws fighting over a large turtle, encountering a party of wandering knights led by Beshalus the Bold at a small stream, and fending off an angry swarm of Peg-Heads trying to protect their treetop homes from our presence. Yet we eventually came across a great, wooden watchtower which my companions said was the famous Tower of Aebatin, with which the Compteians had long used for keeping a watch of the southern borders of their kingdom for any enemy intrusions or anything of the like...but for now, though, we used the watchtower to get a high, high view of the lands surrounding the Green Marshes, and from there, we also saw a mysterious green-and-white train passing by the Black Mountains, situated in the Black Valley where the Kingdom of Compteia was. So we boarded the train for that land...(I remember how I used to sleep on a bunk-bed and gaze at the Full Moon sometimes, while my companions slept on a bed below me, and I also remember all the delicious foods given to us in a separate dining car...more or less like a tavern or a pub than a dining car...known as “The Leaping Tabby”.)...and soon we ended up in Compteia, where me also met Beshalus the Bold for a second time. And when I asked him of a safe passage to where the Forest of Despair was, he told me that the only path to reach it lies deep through the Black Mountains, and that it is too narrow and dangerous to be set upon by foot. So I heeded the advice of my companions to go at the foot of the mountains and tame a Sky-Horse which we could use to fly over the mountains and reach a huge hill which sits before where the Forest of Despair was. There we found a small cottage where an old woman and her granddaughter gave us food to eat and a place to sleep. But they told us that the the Forest of Despair is full of huge, Dark Serpents which slither among the trees and devour un-cautious people from above. So once we went down into the woods the next day, I used my magic to fend off the attacking serpents one by one, till we entered the Silver Plains and came across a flock of Field-Swans which were grazing upon the grass and bushes. When Thubanian military airships flew overhead and caused the big creatures to bound off over the wide, grassy hills, I used one of them to take me and my companions off towards the Sands of Fate, where it is said that there is an underground passage which leads anyone brave enough to face its dangers straight into where the Hills of Fire are. So through the Amber Caverns I used my magic to ward off dozens of huge spiders which blocked quite a couple of tunnels which led me and my companions straight into a huge, dark, stalagmite and stalactite-ridden lair where an enormous, terrible centipede resides. After quite a tense battle, though, the monster left behind a wooden staff which I could use for manipulating the four elements with, and then we finally found a portal which lead us straight into where the Hills of Fire were. There we met a Hill-Worm named Julius who, despite looking like a menacing beast with his long horns, sharp teeth and fiery breath, happened to help us reach where the Great Canyon, the landmark which separates the Hills of Fire from where the Forest of Hope was, with his incredible sense of smell, all while helping us to fend off any dangers we would face along the way, such as advancing bands of the Warring Races, which were eventually taken care off with the help of Field-Swans, Stone-Worms and other nature spirits which I summoned with the use of the Spirit-Whistle. And when my companions and I finally reached the Great Canyon, we used the same Sky-Horse which flew us over the Black Mountains to take us over to where the Four Cliffs, the landmark which marks the southern borders of the Forest of Hope, was. But upon getting there, though, we found out that the Thubanians had just built a great Factory-Fort situated not too far from where the Lonely Tree was. It had tall smokestacks billowing tons of reddish smoke into the air, a few military airships circling it from above, huge chambers for which dozens of tree trunks were being burned and churned, and from high over its spiraling walls, weapons of war were being built for a final battle against the Udolai. I questioned the reason as to why one of the two Warring Races would have an installation close to where the Lonely Tree was, and so, with Julius summoned at our side to help us with his horns, sheer size and fiery breath, we burst into the Factory-Fort, tackled the armed guards and soldiers one by one as we ascended the spiraling way up, and soon we entered the throne room of Emperor Tarjus the Just, situated at the top of the installation. It was the first time I ever met him in person ever since I tried to stop the advance of his army from threatening my family about 10 weeks prior, and now, armed with magical powers as the Sorceress of Leaf and Sand, I was able to confront him and ask him repeatedly about why he would base his troops dangerously close to where the Lonely Tree was, and what his main motives to seize the Golden Orb were. But upon explicitly telling me that he sought the powerful energy of the Golden Orb just for the recovery of his dying homeland, which had been devastated by countless natural disasters, Emperor Tarjus the Just went out to the balcony of his fort and showed me much of the Forest of Hope being burned, so that his troops could use the clearings to reach the Lonely Tree before the Udolai, who were also burning parts of the Forest themselves, could do so. After telling him urgently that to seize the Lonely Tree would mean provoking the wrath of the celestial spirit which hatches out of the Golden Orb, I used the Sky-Horse to fly me straight to the woods, where I could intervene to stop the Warring Races from waging the battle for the Lonely Tree with all my magical powers and the aid of all the nature spirits at my side, while Tarjus the Just went ahead with trying to restrain his own troops from reaching the tree, despite the actions of his own fiercely rebellious generals. Initially the great battle went quite well for me and my companions, and even the knight Beshalus the Bold and his knights came in to help me in my cause, but soon I got knocked down by a Thubanian war-machine which was eventually brought down by none other than Julius himself, who continued to help me in restraining the Warring Races as I went ahead with destroying the Golden Orb with all the natural elements and spells brought at my disposal. Yet however, though, the Lonely Tree itself suddenly caught on fire somehow and the celestial spirit was immediately released out of the orb. I desperately tried to restrain the spirit from climbing out of the burning tree, but it unleashed its impressive wrath of destruction upon the whole Forest of Hope and everything inside it, including the Thubanian war-machines, and soon, all that was left was a very desolate landscape and a great crater from upon where the ancient tree stood. But much to the astonishment of my companions and all the others around me, all the nature spirits were able to find my unconscious body and raise me up from the ground, and then, in an instant, all sorts of grasses, bushes plants and trees sprang up to bring the Forest of Hope back to life, including even the Lonely Tree itself, which arose in splendid fashion from the ash-laden crater, as my eyes beheld the sight of a hundred-thousand white birds flying over the woods and across the clear grayish-blue sky. And After I thanked the nature spirits for helping me to bring justice to the Warring Races, fulfill my mission to destroy the Golden Orb, and therefore save my life in the process of doing so, my companions and I saw the Thubanians and the Udolai departed the newly-risen Forest of Hope and the surrounding lands, never to come there for any riches once again. I decided for a while to lead a happy life with my companions and allies such as Beshalus the Bold...yet one day, though, Robert and Venkula told me that from a message sent to them by messenger crows, Magellon the Wise has finally been happy to witness his ancient prophecy being fulfilled, and that he has also returned my family back to my old house situated deep in the Southern Glens, which have also completely recovered from the celestial spirit’s wrath as well. So, after a visit to Magellon the Wise, with whom I had quite an excited talk regarding my relationship with nature, Robert and Venkula allowed me to return to my old house one fine evening, as the sun was setting down under the hills and trees, and tell my excited family all about my great adventure to fulfill Magellon’s Prophecy at dinner that night. And I also allowed my parents and siblings to have a look at everything that I wrote in my diary, too...now it’s in their custody....after I allowed Robert and Venkula to come in for a visit with them at my old house, and after they allowed Magellon to visit me with my family the next day as well. And I’m really sure, too, to let you know that my family is amazed of my magical prowess as The Sorceress of Leaf and Sand!” “Fantastic, Keiko Yamamoto!” Exclaimed Melinda with a big smile on her face, “I really love it! It’s so amazing!! I’m sure you’ll become a prolific writer of great renown, won’t you, my friend?” “Oh...” I smiled jokingly, “Sure I may....yet it’s a possibility, though, since I need to make copies of the same story to be read by other people besides my family and close relations, after all...” “So can you let me read your diary some day, then?” “Yes I can, but only when you visit my family and get permission from them, though. For my parents may not like it if some stranger like you takes anything belonging to their household without them knowing it.” “Good, my friend....” Melinda remarked, “now I’m starting to become a sorceress like you are..With all the bronze coins and silver nuggets I have, I’m currently getting my own spell-book and my own tools for casting my own spells...” “And you still haven’t learned how to manipulate the natural elements, summon nature spirits or heal others, haven’t you?” I asked. “For I know how to cast spells without the aid of wands, stones or other kinds of objects or tools, based on what Robert and Venkula showed me...” “Well...um...I’m beginning to learn stuff related to alchemy and divination, so that I can practice transmutations of base metals into noble metals, and of how to read peoples’ minds or foresee the future...and I’m also learning a bit about stuff related to shape-shifting, too, so that I can know how to shape-shift into a cat or anything else I want, soon...” “Nice, Melinda...” I said. “I think I have to go back to my family now. They’re probably waiting for me to return before the moon rises!” “Thanks, Keiko,” Melinda replied as I got up and pushed the wooden chair forward. “Thanks for telling your great story for me to hear. And I really love it, too.” “You’re welcome, Melinda,” I replied as she got up. “You’re welcome for letting me have some tea with you at your kitchen in this house of yours, and I also look forward to visiting you again someday...” “Sure, my friend,” Melinda smiled. “You’re always welcome into my house, and it’s a nice pleasure to spend time with my loving family and I whenever you come around, either alone or with your family...and I’ll see you soon, too, by the way!“ “Okay then, Melinda,” I turned to face my friend as I headed out the front door and straight into the cold night, “Sleep well with your family, and dream sweet dreams as you do so!” “For sure, Keiko Yamaguchi!” “Yamamoto!” I replied with a quick giggle. “Sorry if I forgot to say your last name the right way!” “That’s alright...so just go to sleep for now!” “All right, then...” Melinda closed the front door and turned off the lights of their house with her parents and siblings.

[fafulous]

Round Two

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Summary:  Reader’s family doesn’t include her in their Christmas plans for the night, leaving her in shreds of sadness until her phone rings from her favorite family of vampires to save her Christmas.

Warnings: LIL ANGSTY??? FLUFFY??? IMPLIED DITTY DO?? HOW?? DO?? YOU?? DO?? WARNINGS?? CHEESIER THAN YOUR CHEESE FRIES YOU HAD SOME WHILE BACK?? DO I MARK 18+??? IDK READ MY FRENS

A/N: AL right. Now the reason I’m writing this sad prompt is because this is what happened to me although not exactly, but the feelings are the same. @heythereelejah gets prompt credits for asking me to vent out through this prompt. ILY ALL

Christmas is the time for endless fun and sloth behavior. It is the time when you're wrapped in woolen clothes warming yourself from the freezing cold while the aromas freshly baked cookies of various assortment filled the room completely.

It is the time to rekindle old traditions and mingle with the already closest members of your home, your sweet family.

But god save you, it will never the same with your family.

While Christmas has it's beautiful merits, the only thing favoring you was the demerits of it.

Being the youngest sibling and the quiet one, you were always foreshadowed by the eldest and her happenings. Not only by her, but it seemed like you were always taken for granted by the rest of your family. But it never bothered you that much, they were family and you loved them no matter what.

And Christmas can make the most dysfunctional family functional right?

Apparently not.

--

"I still don't understand why Elijah didn't call her Nik."

The Mikaelsons shuffled around the table as they made their last minute preparations and adjustments here and there.

"As I said," Elijah huffed, disappoint me written all over his face, "she told me she had to spend Christmas with her family. And this was quoted by Y/N herself."

Elijah felt a pang of sadness but pushed it away quickly. All of his siblings were bringing their dates for Christmas, except for him. Thinking it was the perfect opportunity to make a move finally, he had asked you to attend the dinner. But you couldn't and he realized it too - she had to celebrate it with her family.

"But we all know how she doesn't like spending her holidays with her actual family," said Kol with a faulty tone.

"Are you accusing me of not inviting sweet Y/N?"

"Enough both of you," stormed in Rebekah as she placed the bottles of red wine on the table.

"Kol," said Freya placing a soothing arm on his shoulder, "we all know that. We also know that Elijah and none of us can go and drag her from her family festivities. Maybe this Christmas she can actually have fun with them, you'll never know."

"On the bright side, we have a table and food as long and as wide as our lives. She can join us anytime," said Klaus as he carried Hope in his arms, silently upset that his friend couldn't make it tonight.

"I have a good feeling she'll be here tonight, Elijah," reassured Rebekah

Elijah wished that too, for he wouldn't have spent half an hour preparing an infinitesimal surprise for the woman he cherished silently.

To his luck, his wish was granted.

After a while, the Mikaelsons' dates had arrived. Marcel, Davina, Caroline, and Keelin made their ways to their loved ones, carrying small packages of gifts for everyone. By the time they sat down one by one after exchanging warm wishes, they were interrupted by the sound of continuous knocks. Elijah swore he heard a familiar whimper and ragged breathing too. All the Mikaelsons' antennae turned towards the door. Before Elijah could get up knowing who it was, Klaus was already out of the dining hall.

"Don't worry brother, I've got this"

--

The cold outside made your teardrops colder, your cheeks feeling ice bitten by those salty splashes of water streaming down your eyes.

It happened again. Yes, you were quite used being dominated by most of your family members and being ignored by them occasionally, but this time it crossed the line.

When you came out of your steaming shower to get ready for the unplanned evening, you noticed the strange quietness that was never associated with your family.

"Mom? Dad?"

At first, you were foolish enough to think it was a prank in form of a surprise. But later, it was very obvious that your family had gone out somewhere without even telling you. You didn't need to decipher that only by reading a note handwritten by your uncle.

We've all gone to the nearby mall for some quick shopping. Will be back some time.

You clung on to the last sentence like your poor heart depended on it since you never really like being alone most of the times, especially on a holiday like this.

But an hour passed and they were nowhere to be seen. They didn't even bother calling you, which made you cry out loud so loudly thanks to the fact that no one was home.

You went up to your room, slamming yourself into the plushy cushions sobbing and decided to not do anything for the day. So much for the holidays, you wished you were actually in that dreadful college of yours.

It was now that you regretted politely declining the Mikaelson's Christmas Dinner. Elijah had personally made the effort to invite you all the way by visiting during after college hours only for it to be declined by you. How you wished you could be there right now.

But the familiar chimes rising from your phone diminished the regret.

Messages from your favorite family flooded the home screen, one from each Mikaelson.

Kol: Christmas is no fun without our lame jokes being tossed around at everyone. Come home if you can, we have a special Mikaelson kiddie chair reserved for you dwarf size darling ;)

Klaus: Y/N. As much as you know that I'm not a Christmas person, the house feels empty without you. Hope wants you to be here too, and we have a spot saved just for you. See you soon and Merry Christmas.

Rebekah: Bitch you better bring your arse down here no matter what time it is. You promised me you would burn your wishes with me and the family. Even if you don't come by midnight, I ensure that you do.

Freya: Hey come home, we all miss you. Keelin says it's been ages since she saw you, might be the perfect night to rekindle stories. Hopefully see you there tonight :)

And finally from the man who made you nervous and fidgety.

Elijah: I hope you're having a good time with your loved ones this Christmas. Although you declined the invite, it's never off the charts. I wish you were here with us. I really do miss your presence Y/N. Merry Christmas.

You just instantaneously sprang up from your bed, happy tears rolling down your cheeks. All of their messages touched your heart, especially Elijah's, realising they still saved you a seat. The fact that the family missed her, the fact that he misses her made her heart flutter with mixed emotions of happiness and anxiousness.

Rebekah was your college mate, the only one who helps you to get through the educational hell hole. Long enough, she confided in her family secrets, her vampirism and her small aim in life to start a family.

The Mikaelsons, as usual, were very very apprehensive about maintaining an acquaintance with you but this problem was long forgotten. You were able to bring a small amount of cheer within every single one, be it taking care of Hope or assisting Freya with spells or even talking to Klaus about the deepest regrets of his lifetime. All of them took her in like a sibling they've always wanted.

Except for one.

You quickly took a small piece of paper and scribbled something on the lines of:

Waited for 'some time'. Headed to the Mikaelsons for some actual Christmas Cheer. See you tomorrow and hope you have a good one without me.

And right now you stood in front of their beautiful teak wood door engraved with their Mikaelson sigil surrounded by a beautiful Christmas wreathe. Wanting to get there fast, you just slipped on black jeans with a black top, pairing it with a beautiful white woolen overcoat and some black boots.

You knocked the door twice, wiping the last set of tears from your cheeks. You didn't realize how puffy your eyes must've looked as Klaus opened the door with a smile that soon dissolved to a protective glance.

"Y/N"

"Is it too late? If it is-"

He pulled you in with his strong arms, pushing away your statement. "Poppycock. You're right on time."

"Klaus. I look horrible."

"Oh, that will never be a problem when Kol is around, love." He held you by your shoulders as he guided you to the dining.  "But besides the jokes, have you looked yourself in the mirror? Cute, small-"

You playfully slapped his shoulders which earned a chuckle from his lips.

"and beautiful," he completed. You hugged him sidewards as you reached the center of attraction.

The hall was decorated beautifully, ornaments stringing the Christmas tree just like in those Christmas movies you've always seen. Presents were wrapped in colors you never knew that existed and it was then you realized as you walked into the dining,

"I didn't bring any gifts."

The table was filled with food and expensive silverware. From a variety of roasted meats to salads and pies to cakes, you were very eager to taste them all with the best company you could ask for. Your eyes scanned at everyone seated around the table, dressed in red, green and white.  They finally landed on Elijah, who looked as usual - ridiculously good looking. A jet black suit with a white tie, which you had gifted him for his birthday last month. It was the first gift you had ever given to Elijah and you were glad it was acknowledged.

"As much as you hate my cheesiness, you're our gift darling," said Kol as he came up to you giving a kiss on your cheek.

Wishes and kisses were exchanged as the siblings and little Hope, who loved the woolen overcoat you were wearing and who just couldn't stop touching it.

You then went up to Elijah, awkwardly deciding whether to kiss him on the cheek or give him a hug, but finally, you decided to just wave it out. You swore you heard Kol and Rebekah sigh, for they knew how much you were attracted to him.

"Come on now, here's your kiddie chair," said Kol.

Before you could place your hand on the chair, your hands collided with Elijah's.

"Allow me Y/N,"

Ever the gentleman you wondered, as he pulled out the chair and helped you to sit. Your heart soared, even more, when he sat next to you, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Throats were cleared loudly to state the obvious.

Elijah glared at Marcel, Caroline and Kol, who were the culprits of the noise. Everybody knew how you both had a liking to each other, except for the parties involved. Everyone was seated next to their beloved. Klaus and Rebekah smirked at each other, while Kol whispered something into Hope's ear.

A toast was made by Klaus, out of character and emotional, thanking his siblings and guests, especially you for their tolerance and love disposed at him.

"To Family."

There was just merry and only merry in the room, as everyone ate to their hearts' pleasure. Everyone's glasses were red, except for Freya, Keelin, Davina and you for it was not blood but the best red wine caught hold of by Elijah.

Embarrassing Christmas stories were thrown onto the table as everyone ate, only pausing whenever the laugh was too hard to control. Caroline spilled the beans about Klaus' proposal while Rebekah talked about Kol's ridiculous adventures. At this moment, you smiled and laughed forgot what your actual family had done to you and never noticed the occasional needy glances Elijah gave you.

While taking a sip your eyes raked at everyone with no worry plastered on their face, their bond overflowing the conversations. If not for Elijah, you would never be out of your reverie if he hadn't placed his palm on top of yours.

"It really is great having you here Y/N," whispered Elijah, not even audible to the rest of the vampires as they all started calling Klaus as Santa, "I am absolutely uninformed as to your circumstances of you leaving your home and spending the holiday with us, but I'm really really glad you're here today."

Elijah's grip on her palm tightened as he saw another coat of tears brim up your eye, but not enough to roll.

You nodded at his statement of comfort, but then soon joined back to the table's merriment.

"Come on dad please," requested Hope as she conjured a Santa hat on top of her father's head, "It's not really Christmas if you don't say it." You smiled at Hope's magic, improving day by day for such a young girl of ten years old.

"Oh alright alright," said Klaus, "Santa Klaus is coming to town! Ho ho ho!"

The whole table erupted with laughter at Klaus, while he joined as well, laughing at himself.

The Christmas dinner proceeded with Elijah's palm never leaving yours and both of them couldn't have asked for anything else better.

--

After the hefty dinner, you barely couldn't even move from all the delicacies. Turns out this Christmas, it wasn't team girls but team boys who went all the way down to cook each and every item on the table.

"You favorite gingerbread and sugar cookies wee exclusively baked by Elijah himself love," grinned Rebekah, "Plus the boys wouldn't let us enter so why not?"

Soon Rebekah started to hand out pieces of parchment to everyone so that they could write it down for good luck and burn it.

You involuntarily looked up at Elijah, least bothered if anyone was looking. He turned up and looked at you as well as he held Hope in his arms. To be in his embrace in both good and bad times, to lead a life with him no matter where it takes you, to grow up with this dysfunctional yet caring family was your ultimate wish. But it seemed like a dream, a dream too far to touch, like touching the stars with your bare hands.

But nevertheless, you wrote it down feeling foolish and greedy to want to have the best things in the world.

"Gather around its time!"

After Rebekah's calling, one by one everyone burnt their wishes into the small fire built by Freya.

You sighed as you made you moved away from the gathering, up and away to the room you would always go to every time you'd come here.

In reality, it was Elijah's study. Walls covered with bookshelves with a very huge fireplace giving you the perfect warmth all the time. This was the place where most of the times Elijah and you used to bond reading books in silence and confiding in thoughts and personal matters that wouldn't be heard by any other person. It was getting cold and you might as well thought to get yourself warmed.

But when you turned on the lights, you were in for a treat.

The whole room was dimly illuminated with fairy lights strung upon every tall bookshelf that covered the rustic walls. You even saw huge socks lined up on the mantlepiece of the huge fireplace you've always adored. In place of the couch, a small bed mattress was placed on the floor with a navy blue bedspread covered with fluffy cushions - just the way you liked.

Your heart felt fuzzy, this whole room giving you so much of aesthetic warmth. What made you even curious was that no one used this room except for you both. So that must definitely mean-

"I sincerely hope you like it."

You turned around to see Elijah standing by the door frame with a mug in his hand, his thick accent giving you a small chill. As he walked towards you, you shamelessly checked him out from head to toe - how the suit hugged him perfectly making him look dapper as ever. You took in a deep breath, not being able to stand there without touching him.

"It's really gorgeous Elijah. I love what you've done with the study," you blushed.

"Well, I'm glad. This was a small surprise for you-"

"You did this for me?"

"Of course. I did have a hunch that you'd be here tonight."

You blushed even more furiously, putting your head down. This man could make you go crazy but still remain sane at the same time.

"Here I brought this for you," said Elijah as he handed over the mug to her, making his way to set up the fireplace.

"Oh you're always spoiling me, Elijah," you chuckled realizing he made you Hot Cocoa, something you've always liked to have when you're feeling cold.

"By all means, I am to do that always," he huffed as he removed his coat suit, flinging it to one of the idle chairs. He began to roll up his sleeves, all of his attention on getting this fireplace started, but yours, by all means, wasn't.

Your breath hitched, with heart skipping a few beats probably, seeing his well built muscular arms bulging out of his black inside shirt. He then bent down to place the firewood and start the warm fire, which gave you a perfect view of his backside, which made you cough so loudly because damn it was one fine-

"Are you alright?"

You cleared your throat, prodding yourself for shamelessly checking him out, "Yeah- yeah I'm good."

"Well, come be seated."

You removed your overcoat as it began to slowly get warm. Elijah's eye's lingered to you, as he saw you in the black knitted tank top, as you took your sip from the hot cocoa. You made a pleasing noise after drinking it, which unconventionally turned him on lightly. He cleared his throat just to get the ridiculous thoughts out of his head.

Keeping the mug aside you sat down, removing your boots that stuffed your legs the whole day. You stretched your legs and neck, unknowingly giving a beautiful display of your chest to Elijah, but averted his eyes being the gentlemen he was.

"This is so well put together Elijah. Thank you so much,"

Elijah nodded slightly, loosening his tie from the warmth that was growing in the room. Realizing you were looking too much, your eyes moved to the prickling fire.

"I don't want to sound persuasive, but if I may ask you?"

You cocked your head towards him sighing. It annoyed you that it hurt every time you thought about it. But it was Elijah, the one man who you could express your emotions freely.

"They left me, Elijah," you stopped, slightly getting choked from the emotion.

"What?

"They all went out without calling me."

And like this rambling teen, you went on and on about what happened just a few hours back. A few tears fell here and there while ranting every tiny detail of the evening to him and not did he for even a second lose his attention from all your words.

He wasn't even realizing what he was doing as he cupped one of your cheeks with his hand as you completed, giving a defeated whimper and sigh.

"...makes me feel so unloved all the time Elijah. How much more do I need to prove myself?"

"Shh," he whispered as he came closer to you, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "listen to my voice, mine and mine alone. Take a deep breath."

And you did so, focussed on his voice, the only thing you wanted to hear for the entire day.

"Y/N you are so loved, so loved," he came closer you almost inches away from your lips, "I want you to know that very clearly. Do you understand?"

You nodded, your eyes closed from the proximity of Elijah's face. You could feel his hot breath fanning on your face and you were pretty sure he could feel yours as well.

"We're here for you always love," he paused and resumed, "I'm here for you."

"I know that Elijah," you whispered hoarsely, "I'm eternally grateful for you and your family."

"But I don't see you the way my family sees you."

You opened your eyes, the tension finally hitting both of you as you looked at his half-opened eyes. You looked at his soft, supple lips that made you lick yours involuntarily as you felt Elijah's grip on you cheek harden. He made his move and you decided to make yours.

"Yeah yeah that's good," you hesitated, "because neither do I, Elijah."

That one statement was enough for Elijah to slam his lips onto yours.

As both of your lips entwined he could taste the cocoa that was on your lips a few minutes ago and he loved it. You moaned into the kiss as he pulled you onto his thighs. Your palms roamed freely, tugging on to his perfectly styled hair.

In the heat of the moment, you removed your tank top revealing your strapless lace black bra you wore. It was a delight for Elijah, kissing you sensuously right in the middle of your breasts. He made his way kissing you all the way up to your neck. From the sounds, you were making he figured it out that this was your sweet spot.

He then made his move, ripping his own shirt for you to devour. You traced his torso with your finger, checking if it was really true if you were about to do it with a living sex god in front of you.

You peppered up kisses up his neck, just like he did and finally found your way to his lips. You let your tongue explore him, as you both fought for dominance. And in the heat of the moment after pulling away your tongue from his, you bit his lip, which produced a loud growl from Elijah.

Getting hot and bothered as Elijah noticed, you were grinding his hips, where you felt him bulging from his pants.

"Elijah please," you cried.

"What do you want my love?" he whispered huskily, which made you go high.

"I want you, please," she begged, as she traced down her trousers.

As his arms snaked up to unclasp your bra, exposing your breasts, he came up to your ears whispering thickly as he pressed his chest onto yours.

"And so you shall my love."

--

Back down there everyone was opening presents while drinking wine. There was Merry all over until after a point of time Caroline noticed something.

"Hey! Where is Y/N?"

Everyone looked around in confusion realizing they were missing a member from the festivities.

"I think Elijah has gone in search for her," said Freya as she cuddled Keelin in the living room.

"Oh oh alright that's good," she said content with the reply.

"Y/N"

"Oh, that sounded like him. I think he found her. They'll join us at any momen-"

"Oh Elijah"

Everyone just stopped, as all the vampires dropped their jaws and the gifts they had in their hand since they heard something that was something extremely inaudible to Freya, Keelin, and Davina. Rebekah gasped but secretly proud of her girl.

"What's wrong? What happened Kol?" Asked an extremely worried Davina, apprehending they must have heard something that she wouldn't have.

"Elijah. Y/N. They're um-"

Kol stopped Caroline Midway. "It's about time if you ask me. Was this the surprise Elijah was talking about? The surprise of Christmas Sex?"

Klaus hit him hard on the head on account of little Hope who was unwrapping her gifts, fortunately not paying attention to what the adults were talking.

Everyone blushed and let out small fits of laughter. They were happy that finally, those two got to know how much they actually mean to each other.

Davina whispered something and snapped her fingers, knowing that the vampires feel more silence with her magic.

"Now now let's give them privacy," smirked Davina.

"Atta girl", said Kol as he kissed her forehead, "Rebekah I think you owe me a 100 dollars for predicting Elijah’s Christmas Sex."

Klaus almost chopped his head off in a moment’s fury.

--

Elijah pulled out the extra navy blue sheets covering both of them. Right below his arms, you lay down covered in a thin film of sweat beads, staring into the fireplace and then looked right at him into his chocolate colored eyes.

He leaned down to give you another kiss, devouring your lips slowly as you placed your palm on his cheek.

"Talk about the best Christmas, this was way out of my league," you whispered

"It was nothing love," he said grinning as he lied down next to you, kissing your forehead and pushing away the strands from your face.

You snuggled closer into him, wrapping your arms around him, your head on his torso. "This was the Christmas gift ever. Thank you, Elijah,"

"Oh no my love, that's not all I have for you," he whispered as he got up instantly, making you follow suit as well.

Gripping the sheet to your chest, you saw Elijah reach of for something in a medium sized box green box with a red ribbon on it.

Taking it, you looked up at him smiling with curiosity and back at the box and decided to open it.

Inside it was a small silver chain with a pendant on it. It was so beautiful at a glance you were smiling so hard at Elijah without even discerning what it was.

The pendant was the Mikaelson sigil, a beautiful M calligraphed onto a coat of arms. And on the backside of the pendant was a small letter, that denoted the first letter of your name.

The emotional wreck you are made your eyes a tad bit watery.

"Elijah. Th-this is beautiful. You didn't have to."

"No," he simply said taking the chain from the box and nudging you to turn around, "it's of utmost importance that you know this truth Y/N."

He helped you put the chain onto you as he brushed your hair away gently and placed his chin on to your shoulder, whispering something you never thought you will hear.

"You will and always be family, no matter what the path takes us to. You are and will undoubtedly be the one who I cherish my life with Y/N. You must know that I-"

"I know," you turned around to him, inches away again from his lips, "I love you too Elijah."

Both of you feverishly kissed again as your hands found your way to his hair, completely forgetting about the sheet you were holding onto.

When you let go of his hair briefly your soft supple breasts were left on display for Elijah. He looked at them, his eyes going darker which you identified as lust. Without any warning he tugged you to him, feeling his well-built torso on your chest, which made you giggle incoherently.

"It's not a Mikaelson Christmas if there is no round two love," whispered Elijah as he began to do what was meant to be done.

And that's when you wondered: What more could you ask on a Christmas Day?

--

I warned you that it was cheesy. Your loss xD

Also, I’m taking this opportunity to wish all my lovely followers a very very Happy New Year. Hope all your wishes come true :’)

Tags: @heythereelejah @evyiione @idkhaylijah @dendrite-lover @elejah-wonderland (this is a random taglist ahahah ;___;)

[lettercastauthor]

Spider-Barista: Part One, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Extra Whip

AU Summary and Warnings: Tony Stark survived the snap that killed Thanos and only lost his arm, Steve Rogers has returned from his brief time travel escapades after realizing he’s not as straight as he thought he was, and his feelings for Tony went far beyond friendship. Tony, Steve, Peter, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula are in a polyship and were living at Stark’s private New York residence located somewhere in the city “near all the action,” also close to Peter’s school. Peter, 18, is finishing senior year. Recently, Pepper and Morgan Stark have left for upstate New York to begin Morgan’s private school. Overprotective “auntie” Nebula joined them due to her own safety concerns, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Unknown to everyone, Tony is having a secret sciencey-fling with Bruce Banner, kept private for shy Bruce’s sake. Aunt May is on a cruise in the Bahamas.

Tony has offered to pay for Peter’s college, but Peter is being stubborn and wants to earn it for himself, so he gets a job at the local coffee shop and quickly finds a love for the job. In fact, he loves it so much that he begins to neglect his Super-Hero duties. At first Tony is supportive of a break from the dangerous life of saving New York on the daily, despite Cap’s urging Peter to take on bigger baddies and hone his skills. But they both soon realize Peter’s interest in coffee is mainly tied to a cute customer who comes in on Peter’s every shift. Unbeknownst to Peter, this customer lives a double life. This will be a serial story, updated when I have time. There will be NSFW content, each section that includes NSFW content will be marked accordingly so the reader can choose to enjoy the story while skipping the lewd parts should the desire.

Everyone in this story is 18 or older.

Tl;Dr: Adult Tom Holland Spider-Man is working as a barista post-blip. He’s in a polyship with Tony, Steve, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula. He has a crush on one of his patrons and is neglecting his heroic duty. There’s NSFW stuff in here. 

Part One: “Pumpkin Spice Latte, Extra Whip”

Warm yellow sun pierced through the sepia tinted windows of the coffee shop. It was a nice clear day. The taxi cabs sat bumper-to-bumper, the people hurriedly walked the sidewalks like a fashion-show runway, carrying their coats over their shoulders on this uncharacteristically warm November afternoon. A flash of green dashed through the crowd of customers as Peter Parker raced round the back entrance of the counter to clock in. His apron whooshed around him as he stopped at the register, punched in his employee ID number, and jumped into the flow of things, watching the front door intensely as he worked the hot bar with lightning speed. 

Customers loved Peter. He was quick, he never messed up a drink, and he always served with a smile. Pete’s co-workers loved him because whenever he worked, everyone got higher tips. The manager liked him because he always showed up for every shift, but she felt he could be better at the cleaning part of the job; she made sure to mention that in his quarterly review. Right on time, five minutes after 2:00 p.m., Peter’s favorite customer walked in. He told all the customers they were his favorite, but this one in particular was actually his favorite. 

The bell chimed and a man walked in, brown coat draped over his arm, gray knit sweater hugging his broad shoulders and chest just tight enough to portray a hint of modelesque musculature. This was Jamie. Jamie always wore a steel-blue tie, pulled tight around his white collared button-up shirt. Today, he sported a pair of well-fitting khaki slacks, brown oxfords, argyle socks. Clothing tells you everything about a person in New York City. Jamie’s clothes told Peter this: that Jamie had a job in the city, a real job, the kind you do in an office that looks over the hustle and bustle of the commoner’s everyday lives. Or so Peter imagined. He looked like most New York businessmen, but to Peter he was the definition of heaven. He was also unattainable. Peter rarely worked the register, due to being what the manager called “too friendly.” All his chatting with the customers slowed up the line. Unfortunately, Pete’s normal position at the bar fixing drinks kept him behind a wall of glass and noisy machines. The barrier made it near impossible to communicate effectively with customers.

His only chance was at the passthrough area, where he would set each hand-crafted beverage and call out the name of the customer it belonged to. Jamie changed up his drink often, which both frustrated and intrigued Peter. He wanted to be able to make Jamie’s drink quick enough that he could have a second to drop him his number on a napkin, but by the time Peter learned Jamie’s drink (usually three or four shifts), it was usually too late. He’d switched it up again. But Peter liked that about him, too. Jamie clearly liked to try new things. It was a good sign. 

So, as Jamie placed his order, Peter rushed to fill it before the payment was even processed. Today, Jamie ordered a pumpkin spice latte with extra whipped cream. Pete lucked out. He could make that drink in his sleep! Since the seasonal drink made its yearly debut in September, he was making hundreds of these each day. As he steamed the milk, Jamie looked over and gave him an easy smile. The light danced off his brown skin, his eyes twinkled. Peter felt his cheeks tingle with blush as he returned the grin. Milk frothed and mixed with the pumpkin spice flavor, the drink was almost complete. The payment processor beeped its approval to Jamie, and Peter raced to put the extra whip and autumn seasonings on the drink, meeting Jamie at the passthrough counter and carefully putting the lid on the cup.

As Jamie reached for the drink, Peter slipped a napkin toward him. “Don’t forget your napkins, Mr. Jamie, sir.” He’d written his number on it this morning, in preparation for this very moment.

Jamie smiled again, “Thank you, Peter. I’d hate to get coffee all over my suit.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Jamie took the napkin and left without showing signs of having seen the number written on it. All Peter could do now was wait. Waiting was hard. The time ticked by slower than usual today, but finally it was closing time. Peter helped clean up the floor, sweeping, mopping, and wiping frantically. His co-workers joked about him having a hot date, but when Peter blushed they realized he might actually have a hot date! So they pushed him for answers as to who the mystery guy or girl could possibly be. 

“I don’t have a date, guys. It’s just that I - uh - I have school in the morning. You know, senior year and all. Gotta finish strong,” he said.

At this, Tammy the night shift manager, bursted out with her typical hyena-cackle laughter. “Okay, sure Pete, you have school on a Saturday. Dumbass, it’s Friday night. If you didn’t have a date tonight I would be worried. You need to loosen up, Peter. You can’t just stay single forever!”

Peter’s co-workers had no idea he was actually dating, like, five people, so he just grinned and laughed, “I guess you’re right! Well I have to go now, goodbye!” He clocked out and dashed out of the store as quickly as he came in. As he walked home, green apron hanging over his shoulder, visor flipped backwards, he turned on his phone and waited impatiently for the messages to load. One-by-one they came in.

Aunt May: “Just arrived at the port in Jamaica, having a lovely time on the cruise!”

Cap: “Peter, please remember to do your laundry tonight. Your room smells like feet.”

Mr. Stark: [sent you a picture message]

Ned: “LEGO building party tonight at Josh’s, are you coming? 10pm.”

Pepper: “Morgan says hi!”

MJ: “LOL You look so funny in that coffee uniform.”

But nothing from a mystery number that could possibly be Jamie’s. He responded to the messages somewhat halfheartedly, then descended the subway stairs to take the train home. Headphones in, he thought about Jamie’s smile as he was ordering. His chest felt tight again, blood pumping, music blasting. He daydreamed until his stop, then took the headphones out for his walk home. He entered the tall apartment building and took the elevator up to the top. Nothing but the best for Tony Stark and his family! The penthouse smelled of a home-cooked meal. It was Cap’s turn to cook, so they were bound to have a feast. Rhodey was setting the table and greeted him first.

“Peter! How was work?” He laid down the last fork at the big oval dining table.

“It was good, I made some tips today!” Peter put on an extra layer of cheer to compensate for the disappointment of not hearing from Jamie.

“That’s great, Pete.” Rhodey was Peter’s metamour, Tony being their shared partner. Occasionally there was tension between them. It wasn’t jealousy, but they were known for calling each other out on their bullshit, and Peter could tell Rhodey’s bullshit detector was going off.

But before Rhodes could say anything, Steve Rogers walked in carrying a turkey pot pie. His kiss-the-cook apron, denim cut-off booty-shorts, and crab-claw oven mitts really made for a unique kind of vibe far and away from the Captain America the rest of the world saw. The daisy dukes certainly showed off America’s Ass in the least wholesome of ways. Peter and Rhodey both gulped, eyeballing that thicc snack as Cap bent over the kitchen table and set it at the center. The pot-pie didn’t look too bad either. Both had been interested in Steve for quite some time, but were not sure how to approach that, since he was so newly out of the closet.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asked, pulling the oven mitts off and reaching back to untie his apron.

“I don’t know, I just got home,” Peter shrugged, heading up the loft stairs.

Steve turned to Rhodey and asked, “What’s up with the kid? He seems off.”

Rhodey wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him close, “Don’t you ever take that apron off.” He grinned, then released Steve and headed to the kitchen to grab the green beans and bread rolls. Steve stayed stuck there for a moment, trying to control the blush that spread across his face before going upstairs to check on Peter and find Tony.

Since Peter’s room was down the hall from Tony’s workshop, Steve decided to stop there first. He poked his head in and spotted Pete sulking at his desk, staring listlessly at his phone. Pete didn’t notice him, so he observed and admired for a minute before knocking and entering. “Hey Pete, don’t you have laundry to do?”

Startled, Peter jumped up and threw his phone under his bed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I came in here to do, laundry.” Frantically, he searched for the laundry basket. Unable to find it, he quickly picked up some of his dirty clothes and balled them up in a pile in his arms. Once his hands were full, he used his toes to pick up the boxers and socks that littered the floor.

“Pete…” Steve tried to get his attention.

“I know, Mr. Rogers it smells like feet in here…”

“Pete… well, I mean yes it does but Peter—” he stepped in front of the teen. “Peter, stop.”

“What?” Peter was clearly upset, though his face wasn’t visible behind the pile of clothing that filled his arms.

“Put the laundry down.”

“But my room smells like feet…”

“Peter.”

“Fine,” he dropped the laundry on the floor, then plopped defiantly on the bed. “What.”

Steve sat gently beside Peter. “Pete, you’re upset.”

“I am not upset, I’m fine.”

“Did you have a rough day at work?” Steve scooted closer, leaning into Peter. He smelled sweetly of coffee. Peter said nothing. “You can tell me, I’ll keep a secret.” He wrapped a reassuring arm around Peter’s shoulders.

The young man looked up at him, eyes red from both tiredness and emotions. “There’s a guy.”

“A guy?” Steve had only come out of the closet three months ago. He could feel the blush coming back to his cheeks. He glanced toward the door, secretly hoping Tony would come in and fix everything. Tony could always fix anything, especially Peter’s broken heart.

Pete sniffed. “He’s a customer. His name is Jamie.”

Suddenly suspicious, Steve perked up. “Is he the reason you turned off your police scanner and keep picking up extra shifts at the shop?”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. “You have no idea. How hot. He is. Like, he walks in the room and I can’t breathe. And he doesn’t even know I exist beyond that I am some guy in a green apron who works at a coffee shop.”

“I know what you mean, sport, but you so many of us here who adore you, you know?”

“I know, but…” Peter stopped and suddenly realized what Cap was insinuating, “Wait a second… Mr. Rogers are you saying you’re—?”

Just then Tony knocked on the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Steve stiffened up and suddenly there was a whole 12 inches between him and Peter. “Hey Tony! Peter had a rough day at work. I told him he needs to do his laundry… ah… dinner is ready, bye!” Steve bolted out of the kid’s room and down the stairs before Tony or Peter had a chance to respond.

“What’s his deal?” Tony asked, sitting down in the warm spot where Steve’s butt just was.

“I think… actually I really don’t know, Mr. Stark.” Peter stood to pick up his clothes.

“Hey, kid, come here for a second.” Tony pulled Peter back onto the bed and pinned him down, his mechanical hand caressing Peter’s cheek. Peter had a momentary flashback to that day but shook it out of his head. He focused on Tony’s piercing eyes.

“You are clearly not okay. And from what I heard, because you know I hear everything that goes on in this house, it has to do with some boy at work?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing…”

“Yes, that’s absolutely right, it is nothing. Hey. Look at me, kid.” He waited until Peter turned his head and made eye contact. “Whoever this guy is, maybe he’s cute. Maybe you even gave him your number on that little napkin from breakfast, but in the end when you’re like us, like you and me and Cap and Bruce, you just can’t date civilians. It never works out. They don’t understand the pressures of the job... or worse: they get killed. Ask any super hero you’ve ever met.”

“But you and Pepper—”

“Yes, Pepper is a special lady who also does the super hero things from time to time. Pep and I have a kid together, but there were years of turmoil before Morgan was born. Stick with what you have, dating outside our kind will only make it hard for you in the end.”

Peter sighed. “I guess… you’re probably right. He’s just so handsome, I… there’s something about him.”

“Pete, I’m not saying don’t go knocking on that door, I’m just saying… be safe about it.”

***NSFW INCOMING. Look for the 3 asterisks at the end of this passage if you wish to skip the naughty stuff.***

Peter glanced up at Tony, feeling flush. Thinking about Jamie, feeling the weight of Tony pressing down against him, it had all started to become a little too much. His hard-on strained against the fabric of his black work pants. “Tony, I…”

“I know, kid,” Tony went in for a kiss. They were still eager and new, Peter only having turned 18 less than three months ago, but the kiss was so familiar and comforting. Tony pulled back and smiled, unbuttoning Peter’s pants. “I don’t want you thinking about that guy anymore. It’s just you and me in here, alright?” He pulled out Pete’s member and rubbed a finger at the base of the head.

“Yes, Mr. Stark, sir…”

“It’s Tony.” He palmed Peter’s cock, then slowly stroked.

Peter could only whimper in response.

“Good boy.” He released Peter. “Get naked for me, I have something I want you to try on.” Tony left the room to grab the skimpy maid outfit from his bedroom closet while Peter disrobed and hastily threw his dirty laundry in a pile in the closet. 

As Peter cleaned, he muttered to himself, “I really should have listened to Cap and done this last week… Where’s that fabreeze?”

Meanwhile, Tony bumped into Steve on his way to their shared bedroom at the other corner of the massive loft. “Steve, what’s up with you today?”

“What are you talking about?” Steve feigned coolness.

“Do you have a thing for Pete?”

“Who? Pete? The kid? Nah. Not me.” Steve sped up, walking quicker toward the bedroom, but Tony caught up with him easily.

At the doorframe, he stopped him, cornered him, pushed him back against the wall. “Steve, I want you to join us.” His lips were so close to Steve’s. Steve quivered.

“Join you?” Steve chuckled nervously, turning red again. “Tony, even if I liked him, how could I handle both of you at once?”

“Yep, that’s it you’re coming with me.” Tony gripped Steve’s forearm tight with his bionic hand and pulled the protesting Captain back toward Peter’s room. The maid outfit could wait for another day, but breaking Steve in with another young buck had to happen someday... and today was as good as any!

By the time they entered the room, Peter had made it spotless. Not a single smell of feet to be found. Tony and Steve both knew he had probably just shoved everything in his closet, but the bed was made and the desk was cleared and the room smelled nicely of linen fabreeze. Peter was nude, sitting on the bed, waiting patiently for Tony to return with some outfit or other. He was shocked to see Steve Rogers standing in the doorway beside Tony, looking shyly down, cheeks frosted rose.

“Mr. Stark… you said you wanted me to try something on… D-do you want me to try on Mr. Rogers?” His voice broke a bit.

Stark sighed. “Kid, how many times do we have to tell you? it’s Tony. And Steve. And... there was a change of plans. Remember how I said it would be only you and me in here?” Pete nodded, swallowing hard as he saw Steve’s growing erection through the tight daisy dukes he’d donned to prepare dinner. “Well, now it’s you and me. And Steve.”

“S-steve, sir, I would love that... it’s just…” Pete had never seen Captain America be so shy. “I think your dick might ruin me…”

Steve glanced at Peter. Tony glared at Steve. “Say it, Cap. Go on! Tell him.”

“Peter.” Steve was looking at him lustfully, passionately now. “I want you. I want you to take me. I need you... I need you inside of me.”

Peter gave a breathy sigh. Partly from the way Cap’s words made his own dick throb, and partly from relief that he wouldn’t have to try to take the horse-sized dong that seemed to be endlessly growing in Steve’s shorts. He stood, approached Steve, and smiled. “I would like that very much.” He glanced over at Tony, unable to hide his surprise and apparent elatedness that Steve was in fact a bottom, and also that his dick really was that huge.

*** End NSFW Section***

So, that’s it for now! What do you think of part one? Do you like the partition for the SFW vs. NSFW content? What do you think will happen next? Part 2 takes place the next day. It will be coming soon! Probably tomorrow, or next week, depending on when I find time between work and school.

[imagine-loki]

Giftless

TITLE: Giftless CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 11/50

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Underage reader (no sex!!)  Also on AO3 click here

“Loki, this isn’t mischief, or fun,” you complained after a few hours of dagger and hand to hand combat lessons in one of the training rooms.  You swore it was hours of training.  You didn’t do training.  You read and did homework and were a nerd. That was it.  You didn’t sweat or exercise or do things.  You swore Loki was trying to kill you. 

“Not yet, it’s not,” he agreed with a chuckle. “You fail to see the long term fun here, darling.” You fwumped down on the mats, exhausted, and guzzled the water that appeared next to you.  You weren’t sure you remembered how to move.  Or think.  Or breathe.  You wanted to pass out and die.  That might help you breathe.  Or at least you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

“And what… long term.. fun.. is that?” you asked him panting as you tried desperately to breathe. Why was breathing so difficult? That was one physical activity you could usually do without trouble.  Usually.  

“No one knows that I am teaching you, besides that uncle of yours, who is only aware that I showed you a party trick. Imagine Director Fury’s surprise the next time you play victim for him, when you can actually defend yourself,” Loki cooed, trying to entice you into continuing to train with him. “Besides, this is the only mischief I am willing to let you try to get away with, with your freedom on the line,” he reminded you that you were very much grounded.  

“This isn’t mischief,” you grumbled at him. 

He laughed.  “It got you to practice,” he replied with a smirk.  It had all been a trick to make you train.  Annoying god.

“Trickster,” you grumbled again, making him laugh even harder. 

He finally stopped laughing and offered you a hand to help you back up.  You let him haul you back to your feet.  You were sure you didn’t help him at all in that endeavor.  Your limbs felt like limp noodles.  

“One more round, my darling. You need to practice to be able to hold your own against … supers,” he reminded you, trying out the new word.  He didn’t seem to much like it and nearly spat it out.  

“No more rounds,” you groaned. Your limbs already felt like jelly.  You wanted to lie down in your bed and never get up again.  That was reasonable, right?

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” he suggested, his voice a purr. You looked up, interested despite your exhaustion.

“What kind of arrangement?” you asked warily, rising to the bait as you were too curious for your own good.  You should’ve known better.  

He smiled, clearly pleased you were taking the bait.  “One more round and I will give you a massage, help you ease those sore muscles,” he offered, his voice enticing.

That sounded lovely.  You could lie in one spot while he rubbed your sore muscles. “Fine,” you moaned, it really was a very tempting offer. 

You took your stance and the sparring match began again. You somehow made it another round and a half before you were so tired that you were making stupid mistakes and nearly got yourself impaled. Loki vanished the dagger just in time to avoid killing you, for which you were eternally grateful. He vanished your dagger as well, just to be safe. You looked up at him with a mix of battle haze and exhaustion, your hands automatically forming fists as you raised them to protect myself.  He’d at least drilled that into your head. 

“Enough, love, that is enough,” he held his hands up in surrender. It was then that you could finally relax, finally lower your guard, finally accept that the sparring was over. “You did well,” he told you and you heard the pride in his voice. He wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you back to your room.  Or at least he started to.  You only took a couple of steps before he teleported the pair of you to your bedroom. “Go shower, then I will give you that massage I promised,” he pushed you gently towards the bathroom. 

You noted how he was refusing to go anywhere near your shower.  He recognized that you weren’t of age.  Nor were you in any shape to consent if you were. You turned 18 soon and Loki was 18 by Midgardian standards.  He’d gone through the math with you one day when you were both bored. 

You took a shower that was hot enough to burn a dragon, but that was the only way to ease your sore muscles enough to keep functioning. Why had you let him talk you in to nearly four hours of weapons training? You weren’t in shape enough for that. You knew better.  You were usually much more logical than that.  

He’d been really persistent.

You stumbled back out into your bedroom in a fresh tank top and pajama pants.  You found Loki sitting on your bed, wearing only pajama pants. His raven hair was still wet; he’d clearly showered too. He patted the bed beside him. You took a moment to admire the view of him shirtless before you sat down nervously. He coaxed you to lie on your stomach and soon his expert fingers were kneading the sore muscles in your back. You purred and melted under his touch, even as he got the painful knots out of your back.

He pulled the blanket up over you when he had finished and you were practically asleep. You tried to sit up, but he just chuckled and pushed you back down. “Rest, love. I am proud of you, you have done a warrior’s work today. I will wake you for dinner.” He kissed your forehead. “Though I am sorry I pushed you too hard. I just know that I cannot always be around to protect you and I wish for you to be able to protect yourself.” With that, you drifted off to sleep, exhausted by too much strain on your bookworm body.

Loki woke you a few hours later. “Helene has sent word that dinner is ready,” he told you gently when you cracked open your eyes to look at him and see why he was disturbing your nap. You growled, but nodded and managed to get yourself out of bed.  At least your muscles were way less sore than you had anticipated, though you were still sore. You walked to one of you dressers to find real clothes. “May I be of assistance?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes, reaching a hand out to you. You didn’t know what he had planned, but you took his hand anyway. You trusted him, even if most people wouldn’t.  A moment later, green light shimmered over you and you were suddenly wearing a black and green floor length gown that looked like it came out of a fantasy realm or the renaissance festival and your hair was done in perfect coils down your back.

“Loki!” you exclaimed in mock exasperation as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “This isn’t practical,” you reminded him. The dress was lovely, but not at all practical.  Loki rolled his eyes.

“But you look so beautiful,” he whined his protest with a grin.  He liked seeing you like that.  

“Another night, Trickster,” you told him firmly.  After weeks of being his friend you knew how to talk to him. “There is a… ball… my school is hosting in a couple months’ time.” You figured ‘ball’ was close enough of an explanation to explain the prom to him.

“You will wear the dress then?” he asked, seeming pleased by that development.  

“Only if you agree to go to the ball with me,” you replied with a smirk of your own. Two could play at that game.  If he wanted you to wear the dress, he would have to go to prom with you.  That was fair.

“I would not have it any other way,” he replied and bowed over your hand to kiss your knuckles. As he did, the green glow enveloped you again and you were in jeans, a hoodie that smelled remarkably of him, and fuzzy socks. He had noticed that you got cold easily.  Of course he had, he was too observant for his own good most of the time. 

“Thank you,” you told him as you cuddled in his hoodie. “Can you teleport us downstairs?” you asked with childlike glee. You hadn’t gotten to experience much of anyone’s powers. They were never used with you except in training and that was boring. He chuckled at your glee.

“Very well,” he replied. He wrapped an arm around you and held you tightly to him. You didn’t know if he really needed you so close to teleport us, but you wouldn’t ask for fear he’d see it as complaining. The green light enveloped you and you were suddenly on the first floor, standing right outside the kitchen. “Go get your dinner,” he told you as he let you go.

“Why do you always do that?” You asked him. Your curiosity got the better of you and you had to know.  You had kept putting off asking, but finally had the courage tonight.

“Always do what?” he asked, all innocence. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes at him, knowing he was avoiding the question. “Not come to get dinner until after I have my plate and I’m sitting at our table,” you clarified, though he knew perfectly well what you meant.  He really had just wanted to avoid answering the question.

“To model good behavior for the others? To show respect?” he replied. There were multiple reasons and it wasn’t just a flippant answer.  He paused before he gave you the real answer.  “When I first got here, I was warned to let you eat first. The supers are all surprisingly protective of you. Helene makes your meals first, even though she should cater to those more powerful. Where I come from the most powerful or highest ranking eats first. But they chose to give that honor to you.” 

You weren’t quite  sure you entirely understood his sentiment, but you smiled, nodding your acceptance of his words and how he meant it as a courtesy. You went to get your plate from Helene and took your usual spot in the dining room. Loki joined you a minute later. You both devoured Helene’s delicious dinner. The day’s exercise had made you both starving. Helene grinned at you when you asked her if there was any more after your first plate was gone. You had a feeling that she was beyond delighted to be able to feed you seconds. Loki stood when you entered the room again and you blushed at the old fashioned courtesy and took your seat again quickly.

“Should we watch movies upstairs tonight, so you don’t have as far to carry me to my bed?” you asked him with a grin.

“I was wondering when you would get around to asking about last night,” he commented calmly and dryly.  His dry tone made it clear that nothing had happened.  Which you already knew.  

“So, what happened?” you asked gently.  You did want to know the whole story instead of just what you remembered of the night. 

“I carried you to bed, that is all,” he sounded hurt by that, like you hadn’t trusted him. 

That wasn’t what you meant at all and you backtracked quickly.  “I’m not implying more happened,” you told him firmly.  “I was trying to find out why. You didn’t have to do that,”

“I wasn’t going to let you stay around those drunkards,” he replied with temper in his voice. “It wasn’t safe and I didn’t much feel like bashing all of their heads in for indecent thoughts or actions towards you, but I didn’t want to wake you, either. You seemed so peaceful. So I took you to bed,” he added.  He kept talking, his nerves making him over explain.

“Thank you,” you offered him a warm smile. “That was very kind of you,”

“Anytime, love.” 

With that, you finished your dinners, took your plates back to Helene and strolled back upstairs to your sitting-room. You had the nicer furniture and the better TV so you went to your room instead of Loki’s.  Loki had to spend the evening with you regardless, twenty-four hour surveillance and all, so you might as well be comfortable. 

You found a superhero movie on your DVD rack and set it up, before taking a spot on your couch. Loki sat with his arm on the back of the couch, an open invitation for you to snuggle up against him, which you did the moment the movie started, curling yourself against him and laying your head on his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair as you watched the movie.

You leaned up after the first movie, amazed that you’d been able to hold out that long. Loki looked down at you, concerned when you moved.  You just smiled and sat up a little further so you could kiss him. You felt his smile as he shifted his arms to hold you more securely while he kissed you back. The kisses were gentle and chaste.  He was a perfect gentleman and didn’t push past kissing, for which you were grateful. You weren’t ready for more. Not yet.  You, however, greatly enjoyed your evening of kisses and movies.

[artisticestheticreads]

Beauty and the Panther (II)

“Just get a good night’s sleep, dear. We will see you tomorrow for breakfast.” Nyla nodded and said, “good night, everyone” as she walked up to the doors, turned and said “good night, King T’Challa” before shutting the doors. Even though the meeting went on and Nyla was long gone to her place, T’Challa sat on his throne, still thinking about her. She was all he can think about.

~

In this chapter, we get a little of Nyla interacting with the King himself. There are no warnings but be aware. Things get a bit peculiar towards the end. 

  It was the following morning when Nyla lied in the plush black, silk covers. Her nude body was being graced by the cold air as her little alarm woke her up, cuddling her; her eyes opened up to see his grey eyes. “Good morning, Power. I’m guessing you are hungry.” He meowed as she climbed out of bed and to the bathroom. She looked through a box with her “day out clothes” and slipped on a pair of jeans with a white tank and leather jacket. She fed Power before putting on her size eight Converse sneakers; Okoye was outside her door waiting. “Good morning, Captain Miller.”

“Good morning, General Okoye”; they began making their way to the dining hall. “How was your sleep,” Okoye asked as the walked through the warriors. “I slept fine. Wakanda is way more different than the big city.” Okoye placed her hands behind her back as they still walked. “And how is that?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a bad thing. Just not used to a quiet environment. I usually have trouble with sleepin’ because it is so loud back home. Gonna need some getting used to.” Okoye nodded and said “ehhh, I see. Must be hard when you have to save the Big Apple.” They laughed as they entered the classy dining area. There was a complete spread of a breakfast fit for the king and his company. The dining table was a complete, round shape with the others surrounding it. 

   “Ah, good morning Ms. Miller,” Queen Mother said with a warm smile. Her head wrap was off and her grey locs hung to the middle of her back. Shuri asked “captain, did you enjoy your place so far? I decorated according.”  to to your file.” Nyla nodded as she said “yes, Princess Shuri. Thank you. Very warm and cozy.” She looked around the room and noticed the king and a bigger man with amber hair and broad shoulders in fur chatting by the window. “Good morning, King T’Challa.” He smiled her way and nodded. N’Jadaka strolled in with his long dreads braided back, gold-rimmed glasses in a long sleeve cashmere sweater, slacks and dress shoes; all-black. “Good morning, Captain.” Nyla turned to see him and she held out her hand to be shaken; N’Jadaka accepted. “So, Prince-”

   He interrupted and said, “please call me, N’Jadaka.” She nodded. N’Jadaka, I heard you were a Navy Seal from Okoye. How was that?” He chuckled as they began walking to the table, he pulled out her chair and they sat. “Well, training was a pain in the ass, had to kill innocent people, depressed to be damned and straight up anger issues. But, when I found my lady”, he stopped and smiled. “I swear she made everything better. She was the sunshine I need in a while. She is back home in Cali though.” Nyla grinned and asked, “must be nice, huh?” He nodded and chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” Queen Mother sat beside Shuri and said to Nyla “I hope you don’t mind our breakfast here. We will walk you through everything. Sort of like a tasting for you.”

   Nyla said “sounds great. Doesn’t hurt to try anything new. I like trying new things.” The others sat with T’Challa sitting across from her. “I hope you don’t mind but I thought I wouldn’t have enough time to find a thicker shirt.” Shuri nodded. “It is fine, captain. Brother and I will take you shopping today so that you will be more comfortable here.” Nyla smiled small with a brow rose. “Thank you that means a lot.” She bowed her head to T’Challa and he smiled. Queen saw the first tray of food and announced “the first dish is ‘Baked Plantain Frittata’. This is baked plantain with canola oil, onion, scotch bonnet pepper, green bell pepper, tomatoes, garlic, paprika, fresh thyme, plantains, salt and ground pepper, eggs, avocado, and sausage.” 

   N’Jadaka passed her the small portion on her plate as the others made theirs as well. She grabbed the fork to take a small piece and can taste the different spices and flavors. “Hm, the plantain adds sweetness while the seasonings add a kick of spice. It’s really good.” T’ Challa watched her as she slipped her sweater off. Her eyes were on the next dish coming. N’Jadaka followed her eyes and said “this is my favorite. It is called ‘vetkoek’. My pops made when I was younger a lot. There is a lot of stuff in them bad boys. Cake flour, salt, sugar, yeast. Then separate shi- I mean stuff: Minced meat, canola oil, onion, ground ginger, garlic, curry powder, tomatoes, paprika, potatoes, peas, carrots, white pepper, cayenne pepper, parsley or cilantro, salt. If you got a thing for Jamaican then you gonna love these.” 

   As everyone grabbed theirs, Nyla reached over the table to do the same showing just a small amount of cleavage. Getting the eyes of the king and his friend. The other man peeked a little, tilting his head but T’Challa noticed and asked “Miss Miller, do you need assistance?” Her hazel orbs looked at him and said: “if you don’t mind.” He reached over and pushed the platter closer to her. She finally reached it with a slight bite of her lip and sat back down taking a bite. T’Challa looked over at his pal and leaned forward whispering something. The Prince looked over at the men and noticed the vein in T’Challa’s forehead and the swallow of his actual friend going down his throat; M’Baku, Lord of the Jabari Tribe. 

[Wassiye by Habib Koite plays softly in the back ground]

   Nyla sipped her water after many dishes later. “That was a lot of food. I can only imagine how dinner would be.” Everyone laughs as T’Challa chuckled behind his cloth napkin. “Looks as if the shops are now opening. We better get going before it gets too crowded.” Okoye clapped her hands for the Dora Milaje and T’Challa stood with Shuri and Nyla looked to them and follow. N’Jadaka went around the table to kiss Queen Mother on her head as he walked with the group on to the elevator. N’Jadaka looked at his cousin whose eyes were on the Captain. N’Jadaka scoffed and Nyla looked up at him. “So, what is California like? I have never been to.” N’Jadaka smiled. “We can talk about that tonight, tiny one.” They laughed and the doors opened to Shuri’s lab where he got off. “Alright, New York. Aight, fam.” Nyla smiled. “See ya, Cali.” Shuri yelled out to her older cousin “do not break anything, dim wit.” 

~

   The three of them walked through the pathway with the Dora Milaje behind them and a few inches in front. “Do you usually walk with the Milaje all the time,” Nyla asked T’Challa. “He smirked with his hands behind his back. “They go everywhere I go when I am out. It’s like a president thing.” Nyla nodded and looked up to him; he looked ahead. She observed his tightly curled hair, wide shoulders and full lips. He was a handsome man, a handsome king. “King T’Challa, what are your plans for the WPS Program? I will be looking for new recruits starting Friday morning.” He still looked ahead. “Miss Miller, I want you to do your best at serving, for myself and this country. We like to keep our people safe and I need to know if you can handle everything I give you, mentally and physically.” He looked at her then back ahead. “You have experience in combat so I want to see how much pain you can take when the time comes. I need a captain who can stand a chance under me.”

   Nyla nodded letting everything sink in. She looked off to the side to see a bouquet of large orchids, lavender, and white. She looked at the elderly woman. “Ezi zihle. Ngamana ndibavumba? (These are beautiful. May I smell them?)” The woman nodded with a smile and stood to the side so she can smell them. “ Bangakanani, maam? (How much are they, ma'am?)” The woman looked at her then the royal family and back at her. “Umfazi omhle onjengawe, akhululekile. Njengesipho esamkelekileyo. (A beautiful woman like you, they are free. As a welcome gift.)” She handed Nyla the flowers, she thanked her and made her way back the royal ones. “Wow, those are very beautiful, Nyla” she commented. 

   “Orchids are my favorite flowers. Ever since I was little” she said and T’Challa added, “they are lovely.” Shuri looked over at her brother who was eyes were at Nyla. She cleared her throat catching Nyla’s eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, Captain but I scheduled an appointment with the best hair braider in all of African. She has done mine and Queen Mother’s hair. You have a wash, blow out and twist extensions. Should take about two and a half hour.” 

“Shuri, that is very sweet. I appreciate”, she hugged her tight as the king felt left out. “Don't mention it. We have to make sure you look great here. We will be the look and the face of the Wakanda Protective Service Program.” They all finally arrived at the shop where Shuri led the way and T’Challa sat by the mirror. The stylist got started as he watched. The curve her lip as she watched the woman do her hair made his heart flutter. He hadn’t felt this way since his first love. The way she carried herself was the same as the first. Once they were done, they made their way on the shopping adventure and eventually arrived in the dress shop. Nyla stood in front of one mannequin with an amazing dress on. Royal blue silk, patches of kente cloth in the breast area, sweetheart neckline with subtle sleeves and in a mermaid silhouette. 

   T’Challa stood behind Nyla’s shoulder as her hands felt the fabric. “I see you have good taste in formalwear. It’ll like nice on you, Miss.” Nyla’s look up to him and back. “Maybe. Would it go with the theme?” The King chuckled and stood right behind her closer to the point his chest was only a couple inches away from her back. “Miss Miller, as long as you look apart, I promise you will be fine. You are one of us now. You are already fluent in our language. You might as well have a Wakandian in you.” Shuri stood in the mirror across the way looking at herself in the mirror when she noticed T’Challa inching closer to Nyla. She walked over and locked arms with Nyla. 

    “Did you find one already?” she asked and Nyla smiled her way. “Yeah, I like it. But I’m not sure if it’ll fit.” Shuri kissed her teeth, waving down the shopkeep. “Nyla, you will look great.” Shuri turned to T’Challa. “Brother, go ahead and see what else you can find for our new Captain to wear on a day to day basis”, Shuri said as she and Nyla walked, arm and arm, to the shopkeep leaving T’Challa and half of the Dora Milaje out to the other shops. 

Two Hours Later

   They arrived back to the palace in front of Nyla’s door. Shuri placed her hand on Nyla’s shoulder. “Everything starts in an hour. Ayo will come up to escort you down. See you there and welcome home to Wakanda.” She patted her shoulder, holding her garment bag and was about to walk away when she noticed T’Challa talking to her. “Nyla Miller, thank you for taking the offer to help me protect with Wakanda. I am eternally grateful.” He held out his and she shook it slowly. “It will be an honor to work with you, my King.” She did the Wakandian salute and so did he, with a smile; he walked away with Dora Miljae and she walked in to get ready. 

    After her well-deserved shower, she did a subtle makeup look (gloss and mascara with full face) and placed Wakandian Shea Butter all over her nude, caramel skin. She looked over her perfume collecting on the shelf in her bathroom. She chose one with the scent of Jasmine blossoms and oak. She sprayed some in the air and slowly walked through the cloud. She slipped on a pair of navy blue lace panties and slid on her new gown. She turned to open the box of jewels Shuri gifted her for the night’s occasion. She stepped into her black five-inch stilettos, looking into her full-length mirror. She slid the straps of the dress down so the lied in the middle of her biceps. She wore a gold necklace with the shape of Wakanda, matching earrings with a gold cuff on her left wrist. Nyla made her hair fall on her left shoulder and as she looked back at sleeping Power, she smiled. She made sure she had everything before she left with Ayo who wore a mid-length black tribal print dress.

[Wassiye by Habib Koite plays louder]

  The ballroom had golden walls around the enormous area, marble floor, and a staircase where all of the royal families walked down of. The event had started with hundreds of visitors danced and enjoyed themselves; the Royal Family sat at their table, watching and sipping wine. N’Jadaka wore a burgundy suit with simple tribal print on his collar, gold pinky ring, and his gold fangs. His braids were braided back and beard was trimmed. Queen Mother wore a pine green gown that glittered with a matching headpiece. Shuri wore her gown and she chose with her hair down. M’Baku wore a tan linen suit while T’Challa wore a navy blue suit with a red handkerchief and black dress shoes. 

    “I’m glad to see that our whole country has made it. Thank you, M’Baku for inviting the Jabari Tribe.” He raised his glass to the queen and added: “Thank you for letting us join.” N’Jadaka sipped from his glass when he looked to his left; standing. M’Baku looked his way and did the same. The others follow with the king by himself. When he finally looked at what they were, he stood astonished and speechless. Nyla was side by side talking to Ayo as they walked down the steps. His mouth began to dry as he still had eyes on her once she got closer. N’Jadaka said “aight, New York. I see you.”

“Young lady, you look absolutely beautiful,” Queen Mother said with a smile making Nyla blush. “Thank you, my Queen. There is a ton of people here.” Shuri nodded with agreement. “True but they are all here to welcome you, Nyla.” Nyla smiled as she looked around the table and saw M’Baku. “Hi, I don’t think we got to meet yet. I am Nyla Miller, the new captain of the WPS.” M’Baku held out his hand, shaking hers with a gap tooth smile. “Ah, yes. You were at breakfast this morning. I am M’Baku, Lord of the Jabari Tribe. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller.” They let their hands go as she corrected. “No Mrs. Just Miss.”

“Not tied to anyone yet. Why is that?”

  Nyla shrugged her shoulders. Honestly, she never thought of it. “I was too busy with my work that I never was interested in anyone. Never liked mixing business with pleasure.” N’Jadaka placed a piece of bread in his mouth saying “well, pleasure is business and vice versa to me.” Shuri smacked his forehead and he threw a piece of bread at her. T’Challa watched as they talked and cleared his throat. “Nyla, dinner will arrive soon. We saved you a seat between mother and I.” She smiled at M’Baku and made her way as the King held her seat open; he slid her under like a gentleman. 

  The group was now all seated and T’Challa watched as the Queen poured Nyla a glass of red wine. “So, Nyla. How do you like Wakanda so far” Mother asked. Nyla finished her sip and answered. “It is really beautiful. Before I came down, I watched the sunset. It was amazing. My mother always said that the sunset was always more beautiful outside our city.” Shuri leaned forward and said “she must be amazing. I bet you two look alike.” Nyla looked down her glass with saddened eyes. “She was. So was my father.” The table grew quiet until Shuri apologized. “It is fine. It happened so long ago”, Nyla sipped from her glass looking around. T’Challa leaned and whispered in her ear. “If you need anyone to talk to, I am only a few doors down from yours.” She nodded and thanked him.

[Eeye Bé [elephant Song] by Baka Beyond plays]

     They soon had dinner and of course, West African Beef, Plaintain, and Okra stew was Nyla’s favorite. The group watched as the crowd all while Nyla let the beat of the music moved her shoulders; N’Jadaka. “Uh oh, I see New York movin’ them little shoulders over there.” Everyone looked at her as the Queen stated that she can go if she wanted to do. Nyla smiled and slid out her seat so she can dance with the crowd. She stepped side to side while moving her hips. T’Challa watched from his seat with his chin resting his left hand, legs slightly parted. N’Jadaka and M’Baku looked over at him and the Prince stood, undoing his coat. “I see she the fun one.” He walked over to her and stood a couple inches in front of her stepping side to side and spinning her in a circle. 

  “Mother, want to dance”; Mother nodded and Shuri took her. M’Baku looked at Okoye and they both shrugged making their way to the dance floor. T’Challa only watched her, only watched Nyla. The way her hips moved, he was stunned. Mesmerized. He soon approached Nyla and held his hand out so she can dance with him. Both of her hands were on his shoulders while his were on her hips. 

 THREE HOURS LATER

   Nyla was on her way back to her room with T’Challa. “Then that’s when I found Power by himself, in an alley.” T’Challa walked beside her with hands in pockets. “So, he is a rescue.” She nodded pulling her key out. “Sure is. Well, this is me. Thank you for walking me to my room. You did-” He interrupted. “It is fine. Like I said I am five doors down. Well, sleep in tomorrow because the day after, we have training. Specials ops and what not. Fittings as well.” Nyla nodded. “Will do. Good night, my king.” They saluted and he said “good night, Captain”; he began walking past her to his room. 

   It was about time she went to bed so she went into her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She stepped out her dress, flung in the nearby chair and Flipped her hair into a bun, wrapping it up. Her breasts were exposed due to the strapless gown. The cold air in the room made her nipples pucker as she lied in bed getting comfortable. She clapped her lights off in the room and soon was sound asleep unaware of what was happening down the hall.

  In the master suite five rooms down, T’challa was in nothing but his silk boxers in the dark, bare back lied against the wall. His fingertips caressed the material of his sheets as he watched his television screen. His eyes watched carefully, the woman sleeps in only lace panties with her twists up. He can see her nipples harden as the curtains move in the wind. She was a sight for his eyes only. He continued until his eyes got heavy.

~

Okay, it felt a little rush but I promise chapter III is better. WAAAAAAY better. To catch up, click here.

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