#this piece was entirely inspired by me laying in bed and having it play on repeat

[cringefail-clown]

You're an emerald in the sky

You light up the night by blinkin' your eyes

I'll cry and I'll cry if your light ever dies

[aech1gwen]

Happy Birthday, Miles!

A short and late birthday story for Miles inspired by my recent post about Miles and Gwen. (Please forgive me for any writing errors, I have not written fanfiction for almost a year now so I might edit this out along the way as I notice any grammatic errors while rereading.)

----

In a familiar rooftop where she had met both the older Morales's, Gwen nervously paces around waiting for her boyfriend to arrive, her heart drumming a fast rhythm as she rethink this whole surprise. Yesterday evening, she had shared this idea with Mrs. Morales who of course, had wholeheartedly supported it and even thanked her for being such a caring lover for Miles. And now, she can't help be more anxious about Miles's reaction.

She knows she shouldn't pressure herself, besides who was she kidding, this is Miles Morales that she's thinking about. The sweetest and kindest man she had known her entire life, a man with the purest of heart who without hesitation would risk himself for others. Gwen knows that anything she gives him is something he'll cherish for on and on. Which is why, she wanted to give him an evening dedicated to just the both of them, an evening where they can lay under the stars and just be Miles and Gwen instead of Spider-Man and Spider-Woman.

 

---

In the early sunrise that day, Miles was woken up by the softest melody from a piano being played in his dorm. It was one he didn't recognize, a lovely lullaby of piano keys played together that he could tell was professionally and gracefully played. With how gratifying the music was, Miles had almost fallen back asleep until he realizes that he doesn't have a piano in his dorm and Ganke doesn't play one..

 

So how in the?

 

He begins sit up from his bed, carefully listening to music while slowly reaching up to the door then finally hears words, lyrics rather being sung and he had immediately recognized that comforting and gentle voice.

 

I never thought you'd be the one / To hold my heart / I never knew I'd think of you / Each time that we're apart.

Gwen? Miles peeks outside his dorm room to find his lovely girlfriend gracefully playing a massive piano (how it got there? he'll have to ask later) with her sitting down with her eyes closed but her body facing towards Miles's room. He stares in marvel at the scenery in front of him, completely awestruck with how captivating and pretty she looks playing and singing a the same time. He steps closer to her hoping to get a better hearing and look. The girl smiles in recognizing the boy's footsteps but she doesn't open her eyes yet, her fingers pressing on to the black and white keys with so much grace.

 

Each Day / I'll be the one missing your face / And all that you are / Save me / I promise I'd stay here by your side / And I know from the start.

Then as she begins to play the chorus she opens her eyes only to be greeted by a lovestruck Miles Morales, beaming at her breathtaking little concert and carefully listening to the lyrics. Their eyes met and Miles's smile grew even more as his heart beats to the slow rhythm of the piano. He hummed along with her and she continues on to sing softly whilst Miles just stares and listens. Her eyes fall back to the piano when she finally hits the last chorus. The dorm becomes a stage in the eyes of the birthday boy, he is the audience and she is the performer, the art, the star.

Miles is more focused on the lyrics and the unfamiliar song. Had Gwen recommended this to her yet? Or is it an original piece? Whatever the answer is, Miles felt that she was not merely singing for him but for everything they are.

 

When you're here I realized / I'll be the one to testify / Baby / Say that you're mine tonight.

 

Gwen had ended the song with one last key, looking back at the young man who had stars in his eyes and a gentle smile on his lips, she beams back at him chuckling at how adorable he looked. "Happy Birthday, Miles." she whispers in the most loving way imaginable.

Ignorant on his surroundings, he flinched at the shout of a "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" from behind him, now noticing the other people in the room carrying a little SpiderMan cake with candles lit up. A soft laughter produces out of Gwen at Miles's reaction while he examines them all and saw that both his close friends from the Spider Society and his family had all gathered up here today to surprise him with big smiles on their faces and presents on their hands. He instantly began to burst into tears his mom runs over to embrace him whilst peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead.

He started to thank everyone for being here with him on his birthday especially his Spider friends. Hobie comes up to him and greets him with a pat on his head, telling him that it was Gwen's idea to have everyone come over and celebrate with Miles for his 16th birthday. "I thought you'd love the idea of having them all with you on your special day," Gwen clarifies, finally standing up from the piano to stride closer to Miles, "they are important to you after all." she finishes.

Miles smiles adoringly at her while also taking in on what she's wearing now that she has stood up fully for him to admire her clothing. "Thank you so much, mi preciosa. You look very gorgeous in that dress, it suits you a lot." Miles compliments, taking Gwen in to give her a massive hug after he was done admiring her look. A moment later, they head back to the Morales's apartment and had started to celebrate. Miles glances around to see his other relatives on the rooftop with magical decorations that drove Miles to burst into tears again. They really had planned this so well. This was most definitely his best birthday yet.  

With his spider friends all dressed in casual clothes to blend in with the crowd while thel had the time of their lives, his parents and relatives coming to him to greet and blab short about how he's matured so much, his mom embarrassingly taking out baby photos of hin to show to his friends as he tries to stop her (he failed), and how Gwen had went with him to his Uncle Aaron's burial to pay respect. The sky becomes dark and his friends had decided to call it a night going back home to their dimensions.

 

Gwen had also excused herself but explained that she'll be right back to grab something from her dimension. She gives Miles a quick peck on the lips and leaves in a rush which brought in a doubtful look on Miles. While waiting for Gwen, he used his time to spend it with his parents chatting about his life as Spiderman and that even though they were terrified of the responsibility and danger, they were proud of him for trusting them and being honest with them.

And honestly, Miles was content with what he has.

After the events of what transpired, he had become more confident about himself. Sure, it did take a while to bring back into his spirit when Miguel had ruined him so badly on both his mental and physical health, but he has his loved ones who had wholeheartedly supported his decisions and everything that he is.

Of course, it also did take a period of time for him to trust his friends again. Gwen had almost.. almost fallen to her fate like the other Gwen Stacy's. Miles will never forget the day she had suddenly said goodbye and "I'm sorry." out of nowhere making Miles worried when she ran off over to the Green Goblin. Hobie had thankfully warned him about the destiny and tragic deaths of every variants of Gwen which that made him manipulate the canon events in order to save her. 

 

.....just in time..

 

When Miles finally caught her hand, he held onto her, clinging like onto her and pulling her close to his chest yet still somehow not close enough for him. He embraced her so close as if she'll really disappear if he let go, if he hadn't made it in time, she might have been. A waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks silently hoping that she would open her eyes.

And she did. Gwen had whispered his name, opening up for Miles to see her beautiful ocean blue eyes as she looks at him in longing, causing Miles to whisper affirmations in Spanish whilst she clings into him, falling back unconscious and in tears. Mrs. Morales saw it happened right before her own eyes, the uncontrollable sobs this Spiderman (which she later finds out is her son) had displayed in horror of losing Gwen. She had offered to help which resulting to Miles turning back to her unmasked revealing his identity. But he didn't care, he was too focused on the unconscious girl in his arms.

 

Her safety became his top priority.

 

Many months of being the only spiderman had ended and he had been greeted by amazing new people he can rely on and talk to about his troubles. He had managed to break his own canon event and Gwen's. They had spoken about it in the hospital, all those pent up sentiments and feels were both let out and heard, hugs and apologies were exchange, then that was the day they had shared their first kiss... It took Gwen by surprise, but Miles had to find a way to stop Gwen's nonstop apologies for what she did and how she doesn't deserve his forgiveness so Miles did what he had always wanted to do since that day at the rooftop.

 

Of course, it may have taken the young girl by surprise but she did return the kiss with much sweetness and softness, falling into their own rhythm and setting up their own pace as they test the waters.

 

"Mi amor, let's go talk to other umm.. spider people," Mrs. Morales closes the door after she takes a peek at the happenings inside, letting her son and Gwen have their moment. "I'm sure you have some questions to ask them." Jeff agrees without hesitation and leaves to check on the others. The moment they come back, both have fallen asleep in each other's embrace, Miles never felt happier that day.

 

---

 

Half an hour had passed and Gwen hasn't come back yet. Miles tries to contact her through his watch, no response. He begins to worry, so he goes out of his room only to be met by his mom who had wanted to him to follow her back to the rooftop. "You'll see, Miles." Rio had gently replied to Miles's constant curious questions. As they got nearer, Rio steps ahead to unlock the entrance for her son to witness the shimmer in his eyes when he saw his one final surprise.

 

On the rooftop was a rows of fairylights hanging above to light up the whole rooftop. He examines more, observing the small sunflower petals scattered all over the floor and leading to a path in front of him. He hasn't noticed yet, his mom left and closed the door whilst his eyes was too busy processing this magical sight in front of him. He took in the amount of detailed decorations everywhere then brings his gaze back to the petals, that leads all the way to a makeshift blanket fort with his one and only girlfriend, sitting on the opening with that familiar delicate smile and her hair gently swaying with the breeze.

 

"Happy Birthday, Bambi." She welcomed him using the nickname she used for him since he had compared him to a baby deer. Although Gwen usually uses the nickname as a taunting joke, but she said it so softly and filled with fondness that Miles cherished the name more than ever.

 

"Gwen!" He ran into her arms resulting to them both tumbling back into the fort, lying down on the soft blankets that wraps the floor with an enormous amount of pillows. He was practically squeezing her out of bliss that Gwen couldn't help but laugh and returning the hug with much energy. A couple of instants after, he shifts away sufficiently just to give her the sweetest kiss on lips, "I don't know how you did this but I adore you even more for it." Miles whispers in astonishment, his face near to Gwen and lays their foreheads on one another, he can see the soft tinge of pink rising up from her neck to her cheeks.

 

"I'm glad but I have 1 more gift for you." Gwen murmured quietly, unhurriedly sitting up with Miles to grab her gift just right underneath a distinctive sunflower pillow with a baby deer's head in the center of the flower.

 

Miles will have to snatch that later.

 

Whatever the gift was, it was small that Gwen had suppressed it in her fist, not a single clue of what's inside. Curious, Miles peeks at Gwen and notices how her cheeks had darken into a pretty shade of pink as she seizes one of his hands and gives him—

 

A USB?

 

"It's not really much but I just thought tha— that you know—"

 

Miles darts back at Gwen, encouraging her to take her time responding even though curiousness is ingesting him up on what this gift is about. "I always noticed how much you love listening to music. So I thought that whilst Miguel starts assigning me into more missions, I wanted to explore each of those dimensions and listen to their music and also gather songs that made me think of you and songs I know you might like." Gwen describes slowly to Miles, he bobs his head and smiles then finally understands what the gift is for.. "And I also added songs I wrote about you in it so you could hear them." she looks away in embarrassment, but she couldn't see how Miles was flustered and in tears.

 

He was complimented at the understanding that Gwen paid attention to these songs and instantly thought of him or figured out that he'd enjoy them. She seized on many assignments just so she could compile this much songs for him to enjoy and listen because it's what he loves. Gwen knew how much music means to him and she collected these all just for him. It was overwhelmingly endearing of her, so precious that he gently grabbed her face and started peppering kisses in every single portion of it, causing Gwen to chuckle in shock. He never felt so lucky to have her.

 

Later that night, Miles had insisted that they both listen to each playlist of songs. Giving their thoughts and feelings about how they felt about it. And as they reached the playlist of songs that were written by his girlfriend, he requested if she could maybe sing it to him instead. Without delay, she did what he had pleaded for and he slowly fell asleep in the warmth and comfort of her voice, Gwen shortly follows suit. In the early morning hours, Rio had gently covered the blanket on both of them and took a quick picture for Miles that now served as his new phone wallpaper. Miles had downloaded the songs onto his phone and would listen to them constantly when Gwen was away, sketching every vision and meaning with a big smile on his face...

The End.

- "He draws the stars in his lover's eyes as they only appear when they're together in each other's company."

- "The melodies were sweet and bright as he was that made her adore him more than ever."

[lorifragolina]

Harringrove lovefest day 3

I almost forget I had a fic for this day too... I can't edit it entirely so I'll publish only the first half today :) I didn't come to a title yet... The prompt is "Bleeding love" @harringrovelovefest

Part 1

Rating: E WC: 2084 I felt inspired by a @applewillowstone CaliGator fic but I later made it Harringrove. Thanks anyway because that fic is obsessing me!

No Ao3 for the moment :)

U up?

The message lit the mobile on Billy’s nightstand. He looked at the time, 1 am.

It was way past bedtime, but he was lying widely awake in the bed, eyes sore, incapable of sleeping.

U up? 

Stve harrington wrote the message. They were kind of friends now, some beer at the quarry and some one to one match at the baseball court in the park, with bruised hands and knees in result, and generally a sort of truce that took away at least a problem from Billy’s mind. The others were still bleeding, like his nose a few hours before. He would graduate in a few weeks, but he couldn’t work at his plan B. He had to use almost all his money to repair his car, and although he really wanted to go away, he couldn't for the moment.

He took the phone. He really wanted to sleep, but it was the third night in a row he couldn't get any sleep. His mind and his heart were racing like hell and he couldn't calm down enough.

Watsup?

He answered.

Can’t sleep. Going for a car ride. At U in 10.

Ok.

He cautiously sneaked out the door, nobody would check on him until the next afternoon. Steve’s beamer approached quietly in front of his house and he entered.

“What’s up” he asked again

Steve shrugged, grunted a little. “Just can’t sleep”.

“Why don’t you call your girl?” mocked Billy. Steve shrugged again, saying nothing.

“Troubles in paradise?” grinned Billy. “She doesn’t answer in the middle of the night”.

Billy bit his lips. He should have known he wasn’t the first choice.

Steve kept driving down the highway. They passed the Hawkins sing and the radio was playing quiet music, in a low volume, and Billy laid his head to the window, looking to the little piece of sky he could peep. He closed his eyes and started snoring quietly.

“Ehi,” Steve touched him. “Ehi, I wouldn't call you if I knew you wanted to sleep”.

“Uh?” Billy opened his eyes, confused. Steve snickered.

“Are you sleepy?” he smiled.

“I… I just…” suddenly Billy was feeling all the lack of sleep invading his body, he was glad he wasn’t driving. 

Steve parked near a gas station. “No, stay inside. I’ll just buy a coffee, ok?” 

Steve returned after a while and put the paper cup in the cup holder, then went to open the trunk.

“Here”, he covered Billy in a blanket, and Billy blinked, still sleepy. He muttered something.

“Don’t worry, we’ll return to Hawkins now”.

Billy wasn’t able to stay awake, not even until they left the parking lot.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” Steve opened the door and tried to drag him outside. He left the banket in the car, and Billy blinked a couple of times in the fresh air. He didn’t recognize the place.

“... home?” he asked.

“No,” answered Steve. They’re in the middle of the woods and Steve opened the door of a little cabin, inside there was a little stove, the tv, a sofa and a bed behind a little bead curtain. Steve took a beer can from the fridge, while Billy was desperately trying to feel less drowsy. 

Steve drove him to the sofa and turned on the tv. 

“You ok?” he asked again. Billy dropped his head.

“Do you prefer the bed?” continued Steve, shaking him again.

“No…” whined Billy, craving for laying in a warm blanket again.

Steve giggled. “Come on”, he gently dragged Billy again, this time to the bed. Billy sat on the edge, confused, trying to resist a little. “Don’t worry, Hargrove, have some sleep, at least you”, he smiled, returning to the sofa and having his beer. He lowered the volume. 

Billy sighed, then took off his pants in the bed, in a mild attempt of decency. He looked to Steve another time, then slipped inside the sheet, and he fell asleep the instant he touched the pillow.

After another hour watching the TV, Steve went to bed too. Billy was sound asleep, ruffled, like it was the first good sleep in days. Billy whined a little when the bed moved under his weight, but he didn’t wake up. 

Steve clinged the blanket around himself and fell into a broken sleep. 

Billy woke up refreshed for the first time in weeks. He initially freaked out, it took a little to him remembering where he was. Then he barely recognized the cabin and recalled the ride with Steve. He sat in the bed, looking for Harrington, but he couldn't see him, but a pot of coffee was gurgling on the counter. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Steve came from the door after a few minutes, just when Billy was pouring the coffee in a cup. 

“Hi,” said Billy. 

“I’m sorry I don’t really have food,” said Steve pointing to the junk food, chips and popcorn on the counter. “And I’m sorry but if you thought about a shower, the boiler just broke”.

“What… what kind of place is it?” said Billy, hesitant. “It’s your fuck pad?”

Steve giggled. “Kind of. It’s my grandpa's cabin, I sometimes watch the sport here”.

Billy nodded, tasting the shitty coffee. 

“Did you sleep well?” grinned Steve, pouring a cup himself. 

“I’m sorry. You could just drop me at home”.

“I didn’t really want to be alone,” Steve shrugged. He spent part of the night looking at Billy’s sleeping, he had the impression he needed a good sleep, and he was a little envious of the ease he fell asleep in no time. He wished he could sleep in that way for once, instead of staring, eyes wide open, for long hours every night.

“I wasn’t a good company,” snickered Billy, dropping his cup in the sink. “Do you mind driving me back home?”.

Steve stared for a long moment at Billy’s face and his uncombed curls, making him feel uncomfortable. Then he dropped by Billy's home, and he went directly in the shower. It was hard to confess, but it was the best sleep he had in a month.

Billy couldn’t say how it happened, and Steve didn’t know either, to be honest.

They graduated, Steve’s parents were in town, and he was struggling with them, the part time job at the ice cream parlor that they considered a shitty place, and his girlfriend Wheeler, they came back together after the brief affair with Byler. Apparently everyone wanted a piece of Harrington, and he needed a break every now and then, more than every now and then, really. 

In those moments he started to call Billy and they went together in the cabin, isolated from the world, and they watched sports or played video games. Or just sleep, Steve gave Billy the key if he wanted to go there to take a nap quietly. After graduation, Billy’s troubles to sleep increased, he barely could stand his father and the rest of his family, although, oddly enough, Neal had stopped to abuse him physically.  

He still never went to the cabin alone, but he always took the opportunity to sleep soundly there; and after a while, he stopped feeling embarrassed and he went to bed when he felt like it. 

They started to talk. A little, at the beginning, stupid things like rants on their parents - Billy didn’t share Neal’s abuses, but it was good venting without consequences for once-, on their jobs, they laughed a lot on Karen Wheeler’s tries on him. Steve vented often about Nancy, he still felt hurted and she didn’t seem to notice it, tormenting him instead with relationship goals and the eternal discussions about college. 

And Harrington was funny; his moles danced when he laughed at his own silly jokes and at the smart Billy’s comebacks; and he was pretty, and Billy already knew what he was and what he liked, but he didn’t see the danger until it was too late. He dreamt Harringtpn lips, his brown eyes and his luscious eyelashes, his hands through his hair and that juicy ass inside the Scoop ahoy uniform. He can have only that and he tried to accept it.

When they slept together, sometimes Steve rolled on his side and slightly touched him, just casually in his sleep. Billy was used to sleep rigid like a rock in his house, but in Steve’s bed he felt enough confident to move, and they ended often tangled together, in each other arms. Billy stood still in those moments, enjoying just the little warmth he could steal from him.

“So she keeps arguing with me because I don’t commit enough, apparently. But… she’s always with Byler, and you know…”

Billy sighed and nodded. It was some time that Steve vented constantly about Nancy, she was angry with him for something and he had troubles trusting her. 

“Perfect”, he angrily banged the mobile on the nightstand. “She doesn’t want to touch me but is able to get on my nerves every moment”. “Don’t know how she can refuse to have sex with you”, muttered Billy, lowering his eyes and his voice.

“What?” Steve was in underwear, sitting over the sheets. Billy was already in the bed.

Billy blushed, avoiding his look. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s just what I am. I’m sorry,” Billy repeated, whining because he had just outed himself. “Do you want me to go?” he whispered, even lower. 

Steve shook his head, and Billy released his breath a little. Steve kept staring him in the eyes, surprised. And absolutely, incredibly stunning, Billy couldn’t stop thinking of it even in that moment. 

Steve leaned a little towards him, and Billy gulped. Steve’s mouth was opened, plumpy and pink, but Billy flinched, shivering. He looked over Steve’s legs, and blushed, noticing the curve of his bulge. He bit his lips, mouth watering, but he wanted to be a good person for once. 

Then Steve grabbed his arm, and Billy could feel his warm breath near him. He slipped a hand on his thigh, tucking his fingers under the edge of the boxer. He came out of the bed and walked in front of Steve, keeping their fingers intertwined. 

Steve caressed Billy’s jaw with his fingers; Billy knelt in front of him without a word, and pulled his boxers down. 

Steve whined hard when Billy’s lips touched his tip; he was half hard, but when Billy looked at him from behind, his dick twitched and swelled. 

He started to moan fast and he grabbed Billy’s hand, pushing him on himself wildly; Billy’s tongue circled his length and he took all of it inside his throat. He gagged, but still sucked with all his senses and didn’t let Steve go. 

He grabbed his own dick, palming it over his brief and moaned in return, aswering to Steve’s moan. 

He felt Steve pushing fast in his mouth, he hit the back of his throat and pulled Billy's head. Billy tried to move, but Steve pushed his head again and came in his mouth. 

“I’m… I’m sorry”, he whimpered at Billy’s cough and tears. Billy didn’t say anything, but passed a hand on his face. He looked at him with red, sad eyes and he stood again, lingering in Steve's touch on his cheek. 

He went to the bathroom while Steve tucked himself again in the bed.

It is only because he missed Nancy, he told to himself looking his face in the mirror, cleaning a drop of cum on the angle of his lips. He was just aroused, he just needed to unload.

When he came out, Steve was lying with his back turned.

“it was just… to thank you…” whispered Billy again, trying to play cool.

“Thank me?”

“For… let me sleep here. And well… you miss Wheeler…”

“Of course”, Steve cut off.

“Do you want me to go?” Sighed Billy, gasping.

“No,” said Steve inside the pillow, without moving.

Billy sighed again and entered under the sheet, lying just at the edge, giving his back to Steve too. 

After a while, already to the edge of sleep, he felt Steve moving and reaching him at his side. He slipped a hand on his waist.

”Steve, no,” sighed Billy. “No…” But Steve pulled his back against him, caressing him sweetly, and Billy turned on lying on him, falling asleep on his hairy chest. 

He woke up after Steve, as usual. He wasn’t in the bed, and he heard he was outside turning on the hot water. He wore his clothes again and took a cup of coffee. 

“You awake…” said Steve getting inside again, with his eyes low and an uncertain voice. “All good?”

Billy nodded, with a knot in his throat. He forced himself to smile nonchalantly. 

“‘’f course”, he said.

“About last night…”

Billy blushed. “It doesn’t mean anything”, he answered, like he wouldn't care.

“I mean… you…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before… is it a problem?”

Steve smiled, keeping the distance. He shook his head. “No. I don’t care, really. Ok?”

“We’re good?” 

Steve nodded, relieved. “Yes, we’re good. Don’t worry, dude”.

Dude… Billy laughed bitterly inside. He felt ashamed of his lack of control, for letting Steve know he was a fag in that way, and for… maybe ruin their friendship for his stupid desire. 

And again, neither he nor Steve could say how it happened, again and again. They never talked about it. They kept hanging out for the sport or the tv, or to go for a ride in the middle of the night and then sleep together in the bed. But from time to time, and day by day more frequently, they just looked each other in the eyes, and Billy dropped on his knees.

They just exchanged some little words. “It doesn’t mean anything”, Billy kept repeating to himself, craving all the time to have Steve in his lips. “We’re just bro”, said Steve, enjoying him on his knees and hugging him in the bed after it.

Nancy was out of town, and in any case they didn’t touch in any other way. They didn’t kiss, they just looked each other in the eyes. They didn’t reciprocate, it was just letting their steam off while they hadn’t regular partners in hand. 

Steve had a girlfriend, and they barely talked about her now, but it wasn’t cheating, it was just sport. It wasn’t sex either, mouth didn’t count. 

Or so Billy tried to convince himself. He felt dirty, and he said to himself he could stop at any time, that it was just a way to spend spare time. Steve never said anything, but he caressed his cheek more often and smiled to him, and stared at his lips, but he didn’t make any move.

Billy swallowed once more, gagging and coughing, grabbing his own hard dick over the boxer. He moaned, while Steve took off his soft dick from his month. Normally, he climbed on his side of the bed in silence, thanking Steve inside for the following hug. 

“Come here,” said Steve that day, instead, taking the hand that was touching himself.

Blly smiled but shook his head. “Yes, come here,” whispered Steve again, making him lay down on his back at his side. “Quiet, don’t worry”.

Billy’s heart started to race, and he swayed a little when Steve pulled down the rubber of his underwear. He lightly touched his happy trail, with his hair bush, and then touched the delicate skin of his base. 

Billy tried again to free himself. He felt harder every minute, but he felt it was also harder to justify.

“Harrington…” he called with urgency. Steve wanked him, tickling his leaking tip again and faster. 

Steve shushed him. “Quiet. Don’t worry”,he repeated, then he pushed him on a side, spooning him, pressing all his chest on Billy’s back. 

Billy felt near to the orgasm. Nothing was lost if Steve wouldn't make him come, but Steve trapped him between his legs and didn’t let him go. 

“Come on, Billy…” he whispered sweetly. “Let me see”.

Billy came into Steve's hand. He felt Steve’s lips smiling on his nape, while he moaned like a slut and kept coming on Steve’s fingers. 

Steve cleaned himself with a tissue and hugged him again driving him in his sleep. 

They didn’t talk about it the next morning, or in the next few days. Billy felt dirty, guilty when he returned home that day, but the next day he let Steve touch him again, and the next day and the day after that. It wasn’t important, as long as they avoided kissing or… having proper sex. Their lower parts never touched each other, and it was totally innocent and not gay, and not cheating. Steve just had needs and Billy was helping and being helped. To be continued

[bridgertonbabe]

Bridgerton Group Chat AU - The Darkest Timeline

As a thank you to both @silverhallow and @holybatgirlz for writing hilarious pieces inspired by the Group Chat AU, I have written this entirely ludicrous and outlandishly batshit drabble for the series. This is an extremely over the top and completely far-reaching out of the realm of reality insight into what might happen in the darkest of timelines of this AU if the Bridgertons were to ever truly take a game night way way way too far.

Entirely based and inspired by this clip from Community following the events of study group's own chaotic game night:

"To Phil." Simon slurred as he raised his half-drunken bottle of vodka. "May he rest in Phil."

There was a pause as he processed what he had just said before he snorted and cackled, and then proceeded to pour out some of his vodka onto the floor by his chair.

"Simon, don't you think you've have enough?" Kate remarked with a wrinkled brow of concern as she watched her inebriated brother-in-law across from her.

"Of you." Simon instantly threw back.

Kate gasped from the offence made against her as Simon knocked back another mouthful from his bottle, all the while maintaining a pointed resentment-filled glare at her as he drank.

"Guys, I've been thinking about that night over and over." Penelope piped up. "One thing has become clear; this is the darkest most terrible timeline."

"Enough with the timeline crap, Pen!" Kate exclaimed.

Though she had endured the most amount of years faithfully attending Bridgerton game nights and knowing full well all the horrors that were bound to unravel and occur, ever since that night Penelope had well and truly cracked. She hadn't cried nor grieved nor shown any ounce of emotion since that fateful night, instead her brain had rewired itself (as a form of coping mechanism) to narrow in on the semantics of that evening as she obsessively tried to think up every alternate timeline that might have occurred had she interfered at numerous points of that night. Every time the rest of the spouses had seen her since all she had been capable of speaking of were alternative trajectories stemming from that night as well as fervently mentioning the odds and probabilities of the events playing out the way in which they infamously had.

"Phil had a heart attack and dropped down dead!" Kate hysterically reminded Penelope. "Simon's a drunk, Lucy's locked in a mental ward because her guilt drove her insane, Michael lost an arm in the fire," - she gestured to Michael sat beside her, who in turn emotionlessly (his merry persona now long gone) gestured with his only arm to where his other arm should have been - "Gareth lost his larynx because for some dumb reason he tried to destroy a flaming troll doll by eating it-"

"Clearly you don't understand anything about defeating trolls." Gareth's electrolarynx-powered voice interjected.

"Our spouses are all either dead or in prison, our children all got taken away by social services, and now the doctors have pronounced Sophie's practically brain-dead and that it's up to us whether to pull the plug on her!"

The last five remaining spouses all looked to the bed they were sitting around where Sophie lay comatose amongst a sea of tubes and wires keeping her alive, the beeping of her heart rate monitor and the machine pumping oxygen into her filling the momentary silence in the room.

"Life has gone to hell, Penelope! This is real!" Kate cried with the despairing hope of trying to get her sister-in-law to touch back in with reality. "Look at us! Look at me!"

"Kate." Michael uttered in a low voice, unable to look at her. "You put one wash-away blue streak in your hair - and I lost an arm." he stated in as tempered and controlled a voice as he could muster, as he finally turned to look her in the eye.

"Exactly." Kate nodded back at him. "Life got dark."

"And all because Michael rolled a one." Penelope said.

"Oh I love how this is all my fault somehow." Michael replied, his voice inflected with growing exasperation.

"It's mine." Penelope shook her head dismissively. "I've run through that night over and over in my head and I keep coming back to one thought; I should have caught the die and not let you roll it. That's the exact moment I've pinpointed all of the chain of events from that night stemming from. I failed to do that and we all suffered for it. But I'm going to make it all up to you."

Penelope then put down the pair of scissors she had been using and picked up the black pieces of felt she had been fixatedly working on since they had convened in Sophie's hospital room. She then distributed each of the pieces to her remaining fellow spouses, each of them receiving them with curious expressions.

"What is this?" Michael deadpanned after examining the cut out black felt piece he had just been handed.

"Of all the timelines this is clearly the darkest which is why I propose we commit to being evil." Penelope explained matter-of-factly. "I've made us all black goatees out of felt, I suggest you put them on until you're able to grow your own." she advised in all seriousness.

While Michael turned the fake goatee over in his hand, his eyes narrowing in on it with every passing second, Simon simply slipped the goatee onto the neck of his bottle before swigging from it once more.

"From now on, I am Evil Penelope." Penelope declared after putting on her fake goatee. "We are the Evil League of Bridgerton Spouses and we have but one evil goal; return somehow to the prime timeline - the one that I stopped you from rolling that die - then we destroy the good versions of ourselves and we claim our proper lives."

Kate and Michael looked at Penelope blankly before their attention was drawn to Simon whimpering across from them as he looked to Sophie's lifeless figure.

"It should have been me." Simon wept. "I should have been the one who got hit simultaneously by the firetruck and ambulance from both sides... I'm so jealous!" he cried out and waved his bottle about, spilling some of the contents over Sophie's bedding.

"Simon, don't say that!" Kate spluttered. "Everything about that night was godawful and should never have happened in the first place-"

"The darkest timeline." Penelope breathed under her breath in reiteration.

"-and there was nothing we could have done to save poor Sophie!"

"Evil Pen; as Evil Michael am I allowed to pull fewer punches with everyone?" Michael addressed his obsessive sister-in-law in a low voice brimming with a deep resentment that none of the other in-laws picked up on.

"Certainly." Penelope nodded.

"I hate you!" Michael exploded. "I hate you all! I hate the stupid fucking family we all married into! I hate your stupid sci-fi crap!" he barked at Penelope. "I hate you for standing back and letting the rest of us foolishly marry in one by one so you weren't alone being married into that wretched family of monsters!" he shot at Simon, who shrugged uncaringly and carried on necking back his vodka. "I hate your stupid fucking electrolarynx!"

"Rude." Gareth's robotic voice retorted.

"But I hate you most of fucking all!" Michael turned on Kate, much to her incredulous chagrin. "You who enabled, encouraged, and exacerbated the Bridgertons in their heinously insane competitive ways! You who were just as bad, if not even worse than some of them when it came to those stupid fucking games! You who Sophie was chasing to try and save from going back into the raging inferno when she got hit by the emergency vehicles because you were crazed enough to insist that if you counted up all your cards you could prove you had won!"

"But I did! I did win!" Kate retaliated, her maddening competitive glint returning to her sharpening gaze in spite of everything that had befallen them all.

"Sophie is on her deathbed because of you!" Michael yelled, his voice breaking with long-amounted incandescent rage.

"Well maybe if she wasn't so desperate to prevent me from proving just how badly she had lost-"

"That's it!" Michael screamed and jumped to his feet. "I can't take this anymore! I'm filing a restraining order against each and every one of you! I want nothing more to do with any of you! With any of this!"

With that Michael stormed out, flinging the door open with his one remaining arm and slamming it emphatically after him.

"Hey!" Kate leapt up, tearing the door open, and followed after him. "It's a group decision to pull the plug on Sophie - you don't get out of it that easily!" she called out as she marched after Michael's retreating footsteps.

A crash within the room then brought Penelope and Gareth's attention to where Simon had just passed out from all the alcohol he had consumed, having fallen out of his chair and into some of the machines keeping Sophie alive, his bottle crashing on impact and sending glass shards across the floor.

Gareth then turned to share a look with Penelope - and that's when she noticed that he too was wearing one of her black felt goatees. There was a shared nod of agreement as they both mutually decided on the path they were about to embark on

"Evil Pen and Evil Gareth!" they both chanted; and thus began the new Evil Chapter of their lives.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League — Nightmare

Masterlist

Summary: August still feels out of place in the house after trying to escape run away but a nightmare has him seeking Wyatt's comfort...

(This was in the Google Drive Black Hole until @peachy-panic's This Could Be The Moment and @hold-him-down's Not Ideal inspired me to polish it in the spirit of Bad Nights. If you haven't read these pieces (& entire series) yet, you should plan on getting zero work done this week because you now have more important things to do.)

CW: Late-19th century, indentured servitude/classism, explicit language, past-noncon implied, power dynamics, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

August didn’t like sleeping alone. 

He missed being allowed to sleep in the chair, knowing all night that Wyatt was near, working at the desk or asleep in the bed. He would’ve kept to the chair forever if it had meant he didn’t have to be alone at night, in the dark where Keats could still find him. 

The nightmare hadn’t been anything novel. He was always struggling to regain some ground, all the while only digging himself deeper. Sometimes Fionn was there, hurting. Keats would lay a trap and August would walk right into it. Without fail. Hopeless, thoughtless, thankless. He was too slow, too dim-witted not to fall for the tricks every time, even in his own dreams. 

He’d awoken to his heart beating like a drum between his ribs. Chest both gnawingly hollow and achingly tight. The room was pitch-dark, with no moon or stars shining through the window. Even the fire had died in the hearth like the night was snuffing out all light. He’d played the unwitting accomplice, banishing any chance of warmth by casting all the blankets and even the pillows to the floor in sleep. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, shivering. 

There were still many things he didn’t understand or trust about his place here and the older boy who had given it to him. But Wyatt had a way of making Keats feel like a small, distant memory and that was exactly what August needed right now. 

When he’d asked to stay—or rather, accepted Wyatt’s invitation to stay by way of needlessly asking his permission, Wyatt had insisted August take his bed. A laughable stipulation, considering how much worse he’d had than an armchair by a warm fire, but Wyatt had insisted. So, August had Wyatt’s room and bed to himself at night while Wyatt slept in the spare bed in Theo’s room down the end of the hall. 

August paused at Theo’s door, leaning around the frame, the corner of the wood pressing into his collarbone. Wyatt was alone, sleeping with his back to the open door. Theo’s was probably among the voices that occasionally rose from downstairs, a sliver of bright electric light seeping from under the parlour door and trying to climb to light the stairs. It was just enough brightness that August had been able to avoid the creakier of the floorboards in the old house. After hovering in the doorway uneasily for five full minutes to confirm Theo wasn’t coming upstairs, he tiptoed in, chilly air nipping at the strip of bare skin between his stockings and underbreeches. The rest of the house was always freezing in comparison to Wyatt’s room. August had eventually learned that none of the others ever bothered with fires, a realisation that had made heat spread through his chest like the very warmth Wyatt kept him in. 

It was hard to distinguish Wyatt himself from the bedcovers, fabric from skin, where one stopped and the other began, in the darkness. The bed itself and the man on it a single unbroken silhouette, carved from shadow marble. His even breath the only sign he wasn’t stone. August felt even more obtrusive standing over him. He crouched instead, not sure if he should sit on the edge of the bed without being invited and reluctant to kneel on the cold floor. 

He hesitated countless times, hand hovering in the open space between them, heart sprinting in his chest. What if he was given more than a hand to hold, the warm embrace he sought? Even in the face of the vows Wyatt made during the day, August had never met a promise that didn’t have a trap door. And coming to Wyatt’s bed like this in the middle of the night was as good a reason to use it as any. His nerves rose steadily until it was like his heart beat between his ears and it was all he could hear or feel, swaying in the darkness to the tide of his own pulse. 

A clatter from downstairs almost had him bolting back to his borrowed bed, ill dreams or not, lest someone else catch him out of it. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he’d rather it be Wyatt than anyone else, when the tables finally turned. 

Now or never. 

He reached out, brushing his fingertips over Wyatt’s bare shoulder. As faint as the hope he clung to that this would be no different than any other time Wyatt had comforted him. “Wyatt?”

Wyatt grumbled, turning onto his side to face August but not opening his eyes. He let his arm fall open, extended out toward August.

His heart hammered on in his chest as he held his breath waiting for more of an indication from Wyatt. More of an invitation or a dismissal. 

Was that space meant for August? Or was Wyatt only reaching out his hand? 

They’d never lain side by side before but Wyatt was always looping an arm around his shoulders during the day, swift to pull him into an embrace in those embarrassing moments when he lost his composure. 

Or was Wyatt simply fast asleep?

August twisted his fingers in the fabric of the nightshirt Wyatt had given him, knees starting to ache from crouching. He’d disturbed Wyatt enough thusfar. He ought to leave him in peace. But the thought of leaving had him swallowing a lump in his throat and blinking away tears, as though Wyatt were truly sending him away, rejecting him. An unwarranted, invented ache. 

It was for the best that he hadn’t roused Wyatt fully. He should feel lucky that he hadn’t gotten more than he bargained for. That Wyatt wasn’t the sort to thrash him simply for the disturbance. At least, he hadn’t shown himself to be that sort yet. August uncurled his fingers, pulse throbbing in his fingertips from how tightly he’d bound them in the fabric in his fists. He swiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand and rose. 

Wyatt sighed, fingers at the end of his open arm curling away from August, beckoning him closer. 

August’s heart faltered in his chest and against all reason, his tears fell with renewed urgency. He sniffled and fruitlessly wiped at them again before ever so gently, lying down at Wyatt’s side. 

He settled on top of the bedcovers since Wyatt hadn’t lifted them. It wouldn’t matter anyway once he was closer to Wyatt, in his arms. His heart still felt like it was beating too heavily in his chest. As though he were stealing something he didn’t deserve, hadn’t earned. He took a deep breath, forcing the air in past his galloping heart and chased away the memories of his nightmares and of Keats. Wyatt was nothing like him, had only ever welcomed him with open arms. 

August inched closer, resting his forehead against the older boy’s shoulder, hands tucked up between them. Wyatt’s breath tickled through his hair, in and out. If August flattened his hand, he could feel Wyatt’s steady heartbeat, its comforting metronome. He—

Wyatt drew in a sharp breath and shoved August back. He crashed to the floor, yelping as his head cracked against the corner of the solid bedside table. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, scrambling off his back as Wyatt’s shadow sat up in the bed, looming over him.

Wyatt didn’t move, didn’t dignify his feeble apology with a response. But he had to be furious for how hard and fast he was breathing, for how rigid his shadow was, as though he truly was stone. 

August’s heart carried on beating erratically in his chest. It didn’t feel right. It felt like it would swallow him, end him from the inside out, compounding his fear with each consuming beat. “I’m sorry,” he repeated lamely, voice shaking. He didn’t know what else to say. When Wyatt still didn’t acknowledge him, he inched forward, reaching out—

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Wyatt stood and August cowered back with a whine, hands coming up to protect his head. He couldn’t do anything right, perpetually reduced to crawling back like a puppy who’d been kicked but was too stupid to learn its place. 

It was all he was, broken, desperate. Exactly as Keats had made him. “Please, sir. I beg your pardon.” He hadn’t called Wyatt that in weeks, had been able to rise just a little bit in his esteem, and even his own. Until now. He started crying in earnest, the tension from his uncontrolled heart and the open fall of failure overtaking him. “I’m sorry, sir. Please—”

Wyatt skirted away from him, bringing his hands up to his head in his rage. As far as possible from the pathetic mess of a boy who’d overstepped his welcome. He would have run if Wyatt hadn't been blocking his way to the door. Sobs halted his apologies so he pulled his knees up to his chest and waited, never taking his eyes off Wyatt.

But crying would not constitute an apology, hiding from punishment even worse, and he needed to fix this. If he wasn’t dead in a day on the streets, Keats would find him. To remain in this house, even chained in the basement, was preferable. He would offer anything, surrender any part of himself, to stay with Wyatt. Make himself smaller, bend, break to counterbalance this fault, to regain what standing he’d had. He had brought this on himself and he would face the consequences. Prove––

A light in the doorway silenced his undeserved tears and he held his breath. 

“Wyatt?” It was Theo. And no one behind him, which was a small mercy, though it didn’t promise anything about what was coming for August. Theo lifted the candle, scanning the room until his gaze fell on August. 

A whimper escaped his lips and before he could sort himself to make some attempt at apology, Theo was moving. He couldn’t help himself, he covered his head again.

Only Theo paid him no mind, just went to the chair at the foot of the bed and gathered Wyatt’s clothes in his free arm. He thrust them at Wyatt with enough force that August heard the impact, pushing them at the unmoving statue that used to be Wyatt until he was forced to take a step back and finally brought his arms up to cradle the clothes. 

“Go on,” Theo said, keeping his voice low. 

Wyatt didn’t move. August couldn’t see his face from this angle but after a moment it became clear that something was transpiring. Something excluding August. 

“Get some air. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

His stomach dropped. He didn’t want Wyatt to leave when things were like this, when he hadn’t told him that he hadn’t meant to be so much trouble and that he would face the consequences well. But he couldn’t find his voice. 

With one more moment’s hesitation but not a second glance in his direction, Wyatt left and August was alone with Theo. 

First thing he did was set the candle on one of the posts of his bed. A precarious placement that had once lost August the privilege of candles for an entire month –of bruised shins and stubbed toes– at Elmwood. But Theo didn’t have to worry about things like that. None of the other boys here did. At least, August didn’t think so; even if they didn’t have much, they were all equal. Theo bent down a few paces away, resting his forearms on his knees. 

“August, you all right down here?”

He wasn’t sure what to say, or if he could say much of anything without just crying some more. He swallowed, to see if his throat was clear enough for words. It wasn’t. 

“I know you’re frightened,” Theo said gently. 

That only made the lump in August’s throat worse, sobs closer to escaping his lips. 

Theo watched him carefully, as was his wont. August fought shy of meeting his gaze. It made him nervous, how heedful Theo always was. What might he observe and, worse, what might he tell Wyatt? 

“You’re not in any trouble.” August couldn’t help but look straight into his eyes now. Watchful as they were, he didn’t find them deceitful. “I promise, everything will right.” 

He hoped Wyatt would agree.

“Why don’t you let me help you up? We’ll sort you out, too.” He held out one of his hands. “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you.”

When August reached out, his palm shone crimson in the candlelight. 

To be continued...

@whumpy-writings , @writer-reader-24 , @deluxewhump , @no-whump-on-main , @maracujatangerine , @painsandconfusion , @wolfeyedwitch , @briars7 , @gala1981 , @redwingedwhump , @whumpflash ,  @poeticagony , @annablogsposts , @fleur-alise , @melancholy-in-the-morning , @crystalquartzwhump , @magziemakeswhatever , @neverthelass , cakeinthevoid

[huxs-waifu]

10,000 Nights- Chapter 12 - Gift From The Gods

Chapter Summary:

This is entirely fluff! we have 2 weddings here, cute cloaky and you find out what on earth the baby's name is going to be!

As always thank you for the response to the story! we have just one chapter left after this (there will be wedding night smut) But don't fear, I'm already planning a sequel and you'll never guess who will be playing a part in it all!

i researched Greek wedding and blessings for this, I've done what it says in Greek and English but not the Greek lettering for you.

drop a comment and tell me which wedding you would prefer?

Part eleven - can be found here

A03 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30666221/chapters/93492631

Playlist - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/650653939084279808/via

Masterlist - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/670776247958257664/10000-nights-masterlist-the-cloak-seems-intent

Chapter extras 

wedding mood boards to inspire each wedding: https://at.tumblr.com/huxs-waifu/10000-nights-wedding-mood-board/a651jw7s1i9t Chrissys crown - https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/385409680623396678/?nic_v3=1aCoaaxP0<br /> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corona_Borealis

Strange watched as Chrissy was shuffled away from him. Hermes and Wong left, stood beside him.

"So time for your robes too."

"I can just wear this and the cloak with no need for anything fancy."

"Stephen you are literally getting married to a goddess and you're in 40c heat. I think she'll appreciate the change." Wong got up from the pillar.

"I can show you some of the traditional clothes you could wear, it would show off that chest of yours perfectly.  I'm thinking of the winged crown too." The messenger god pointing toward an archway. That went into a cave. “ You can get ready there ."

Wong holds a snigger. "I too think you should go traditional, Strange, no blue robes or cloak for you. I forbid it."

"And why on earth would you want to see me in a toga!"

"Call it punishment for waking me up early" —---- Having been whisked away to a room overlooking the clouds and mountains below, then promptly being sat in front of a mirror. Maenad and Nymphs seemed to appear from nowhere carrying wine, trays of jewels, bolts of silk and bath water, full of petals. Ariadne stood behind playing with my hair, seeing each other in the mirror giving a wide smile that looked very much like my own.

“So what are we thinking, purple for wine? white for traditional?”

“Blue for his eyes?” I say, partly joking. Thinking of the same blue that his eyes shine, when the Stone in his necklace lights the room in green. As we lay in bed holding our hands up looking at the shadows on the wall.

“Blue it is then.” Guessuring over to the silks.

Through what seemed like some kind of magic the nymphs, brought over blue silk, almost seafoam in colour, the material gliding like water as it moved. It wraps around, tying in knots at various points, hugging my chest and body perfectly. Gold clips of grape vines are placed at the shoulders and around the waist, with real ones crawling up the bottom and down over the train, in plush greens. If anyone could have seen it could best be described as a vineyard on a warm summer's day with a cloudless sky.

The true triumph of the dress though was the insulin pump. It held weightlessly against the skin of my right breast. Yet with the folds of the dress cupping across the breast and under it appears as if nothing was there. A couple of Maenad brought plate fruits to me when I was lounging in the bath of rose petals, in all the haste and adrenalin my blood sugars must be shot to pieces. Testing with my machine the beings around me were surprised to see Such technology. After a few whispers I heard the word Mellitus come up knowing for well that the Greeks had coined the word for diabetes all those years ago.

“How is the bride doing?” A male voice was heard

“Dio, No men allowed!”

“Dear I'm, not the groom it doesn't count.” sitting on the marble bench next to me, laying his staff down on the stone flooring. “Besides, I wondered if it was time to give her the wedding present!”

“Of course, we were just about to start her hair.” Hebe, replied excitedly

"Strange as the cloak it's only fitting that you get a relic too." Ariadne fusses behind the mirror shoeing the non-gods out of the room before thanking them as the last leaves.

"We pulled a few strings or shall we say stars," Dionysus adds.

"The Corona Borealis constellation was originally the crown that was given to Me on my wedding day. We thought it would be quite fitting for yours too as Stephen means crown in Greek."

Offering a wooden box carved with the constellation on it, opening the lid to peek inside. On a silken white cloth sat a gold crown. The mass of vines is intricately woven between one another, with emerald leaves and amethyst Grapes.

“That's bloody beautiful!” As I carefully touch one of the grapes. “But am I allowed? I mean it's wonderful, it's worthy of a goddess, but I'm not a real one.”

“As we keep saying this is sorry, to you. For almost getting you trapped in the dark dimension, I think we can let this one slide.” Dionysus gets back up with a creek of bones. There are not many of you left in the timeline you're in, descendants of greek gods that is. There's always that nagging fear that one day you mortals will forget about us altogether. We will look after you while we still have you.”

“ We’ll add the crown into your hair then we're done. Shoo Dio. check on Stephen if you must”

—- “I look like, like bloody Hercules, Wong! You can't make me do this looking like this ?” Stephen's voice echoed through the room on the other side of the hall of the gods.

“I had far too much fun with this”  wong, draping the cloak over his shoulder as Dio walked in from the goddesses.

Stephen emerged from the room. He definitely wasn't in his normal blue robe, as Wong had requested. The White toga is tied over one shoulder with one of the cloak brooches. The other half was showing off his bare chest which looked almost as marble cut and white as the toga compared to the tanned god Hermes next to him. The edging to the toga was embroidered with gold wine glasses and crowns interlocking in a continual pattern. A long slash of red wine is tied to the side with masses of rope. The eye of agamotto in the very middle looks like a fake buckle. This normally slicked back hair had been left to fall naturally, the white hairs curling in with the jet black due to the heat. A crown of laurel leaves and golden narcissus flower sat among it.

“Your definitely not Herc he had more leather.” Hebe joining them from the women's side, she would be doing the blessing as they thought best not to involve Hera into the mix. Hera was the normal goddess for people to pray to for marriage. Hebe could also be involved sometimes in the proceedings of mortals. So she was the next best thing.

Sighing Strange nods before smiling he was actually doing it, marrying a woman he'd literally known for only a few months. Yet felt like he'd known all his life. Clasping his hands together, the scars didn't even come to his mind “shall we make this more homely?” waving his arms, the daylight went into twilight in an instant producing, hundreds of candles up the path to the altar.  

“She's ready.” Ariadne is the final one to join. They all proceeded to gather up at the small alter The gauze curtain twitched.

Strange looked at Chrissy pull through the curtains, a dress of blue and grape vines artfully created around the body, now he definitely didn't feel overdressed. He truly felt like he'd been transported 1000s years ago into the shoes of that last supreme. The warmth of the glow he felt in his heart for Chrissy. Seemed to be shared by someone else at that moment. Taking her hand as she approached lightly connecting the two of them as he led him up the stairs.

“I if I may start, so we can break the spell.” Hebe adds with a cough,” We gather today to bless  Stephen Vincent Strange in marrying the Descendant of Dionysus Chryseis. If you consent to the union of this marriage please proceed. If anyone does not please speak now.” The Service went on hebe, saying all the rights and blessings she could to try and cover the marriage. Better to be safe than sorry when trying to break a centuries-old spell.

“Do you Chryseis Heed-Warden take Stephen Vintcent Strange to be your husband and partner in this life?”

“I do.”

“Sam to you Stephen Vintcent Strange do you take Chryseis Heed-Warden to be your partner in this life?”

“I do, in every life of mine.”

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife! The god's final blessings to you are these.i ora i kal , vion anthosparton ,  na zisete”

“What does that translate to?” the non-greek speakers looking slightly puzzled”

“Our blessings to you - the time is good, may your life be full of flowers and may you live.”

“ That's good enough for me!” Chrissy leaps on Strange dragging him down to her height to give him the kiss smiling Stephen pulls away, whispering

“i ora i kal when I'm with you.”

—---- 1 year later…

Standing at the bottom of the steps, a veil over my face, I walk up the steps one by one. The doors to the New York sanctum came open flooding the hall with light. Smiling at the same open door which started it all. I walked down the aisle with, Cream dress, embroidered with pale yellow flowers on the soft net top layer and a train flowing behind. Modern compared to the lavish blue greek robe we were blessed in a year ago.  The bunch of wild English flowers - including dandelions - show up against the dress. Reaching the stairs, looking over my shoulder at the guests seated on either side. My family joined over from England on one side, shocked at the surroundings and the situation but happy nonetheless.

Tony and Pepper, Morgan bright and bubbly watching. Peter throws confetti with Thor. Loki and Darcy give a small wave, shooing me up the stairs. Two strange-looking family members sat behind my parents. Dressed in a matching wine suit and a dress. Dark sunglasses on and the lady wearing a comically large floppy straw hat. Looking back on the two greek gods were doing the exact opposite of blending into the corrugation.

As I take a deep breath to walk up the stairs. To Stephen, the cloak and the little girl being cradled in it like a swaddle floating weightlessly, her chubby finger trying to pull at the collar. With the cloak booping her now and again lightly on the nose. Cloaky had then quite a liking to the infant, if the cloak of levitation wasn't needed by Stephen so much we would have no need for a nanny . The sentient object was happy to protect the small child.

Reaching the top of the stairs I tap Stephens's arm, with the bouquet. Which he enhanced upon seeing with a broad smile and click of his fingers, the dandelions turning into oversized bulbous heads. Looking down at me, the biggest grin I've seen, since our daughter was born! He leans into me, to whisper peering over at the cloak rocking her so lightly you could hardly see it. “ Do you really think it was a good idea to give Alice the cloak for the day?”

“Shhh, Chalice Helena Donna - soon to be Strange does as she pleases. Plus the cloak is a good judge of people. Otherwise, it wouldn't have invited me in!” knocking into him again playfully.

“If you two are done, can I perform the ceremony?” Wong in his ceremonial robes.

“Sorry Wong !” We say in collusion, Chalice giggling at the name like she always did at the name.

“Dearly beloved, we gather here today to officially marry Chrissy and Stephen in this universe…”

Part 13 - here 

Tag list ! -   @too-short-for-my-own-good @avengershumanresources @d0ct0rstrangewife @strangelockd

[ffsg0jo]

- a o t g i r l s a s c o u p l e p i c s -

modern au aot x fem reader [mikasa,, sasha,, annie,, pieck]

WARNINGS: food, babies, mildly suggestive, ive tried not to include any specific appearance, but it was kind of unavoidable so please do excuse me for that -- masterlist

a/n: i got inspiration/ this idea from @laiiiin with their kny boys as couple pics post, so please do check them out!! their account is beautiful and they're such a talented human <33

MIKASA :

love my goth girl mika sm. such an iconic couple you two are. she's very reserved when it comes to showing her love for you. not too big on pda. she doesn't mind holding your hand and stuff, but things like kissing and cuddling she'd much rather do it in the privacy and comforts of your own homes. that pic of a girl laying down in bed with another girl on top of her doing her makeup is how i see you and mikasa. sis be gripping your hips while you're focusing on her eyeliner and armin would walk into mika's room and just stop in his tracks, seeing you on top of mika, who's rubbing up and down your hips while you're trying to focus on her eyeliner, and just walk out while closing the door behind him. shit's intense and has armin blushing like mad.

ANNIE :

i feel like annie is a more lowkey partner. you both love eachother as much as any other couple but you choose to love privately and sincerely. that doesn't mean you don't have fun in public though. the two of you are so lost in your own little world, you silently laughing and annie with a smirk on her face as you struggle to tell her your joke without bursting into full blown laughter. people walking past you can't help but smile watching you two as well; you look so happy together. you were once hanging out on campus, annie smiling at you going in to slowly kiss her when all of a sudden a shocked eren arrives at the scene, gasping loudly and disturbing you. he immediately takes pictures of you two and runs away and later shares it on the gc captioned 'OMGG ANNIE CAN SMILE?!?!?' he got beat by annie the next day ;-;

SASHA :

sasha is literally a best friend and a lover mixed together into one person. there's never a dull moment with her. your entire relationship is basically doing stupid shit together and getting high off of the adrenaline. your relationship with sasha is one full of laughter and giggles and most importantly, food!! most often than not you're joined by both connie and jean, who you don't mind tagging along, occasionally. they're both great fun and the 4 of you make an epic quad. yours and sasha's go to is an all you can eat buffet in which sasha once snorted an entire bowl of ramen, through her nose. you still have the video saved on your phone and my god did it go viral when you posted it. to this day sasha still sometimes sneezes out a long piece of noodle.

PIECK :

being with pieck is literally going on multiple picnic dates, just to lay down on the soft green grass and cuddle, while occasionally feeding eachother berries or fruits. kids in the play area see you two and wish that they just join you and cuddle with you because you look so warm and inviting together. teens in the park walk past you guys trying to contain their 'aww's and 'so cuuuttteeee's because they wish they had what you and pieck had. there was a time when you two had sat down, after setting everything up and a little toddler crawled onto your blanket with their parent running after them. it places itself onto your lap and you couldn't help but gush over how adorable the baby was and pieck was gushing over how cute you were.

© ffsg0jo 2022 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

taglist: @dukina -- join my taglist here <33

[lcandothisallday]

Late night drives with jack? Just talking and listening to music, it would be full of laughter and deep conversation 😩

especially if you were having a rough day or something he’d just say “cmon mamas we’re going for a drive” “but jack it’s 1 am” “I didn’t ask what time it was I said we’re going for a drive, let’s go“ and he’d grab your hand and pull you off the couch with a stupid little smirk on his face

 THIS IS SO CUTE!! A bit inspired by this song (just a teeny bit. Not a lot really except for that one midnight driving line😂)

                                        ___

Perfect - Jack Harlow x reader

Jack could tell you were having a rough day. You were quiet for most of it, not engaging or being as playful with him as you usually were.

You were laying in bed with Jack, your head on his chest as he was scrolling through his phone. He expected you to have fallen asleep by that time but when he glanced down to see, you were wide awake and tracing random patterns on his chest.

He put down his phone and started to get up, you whining in protest. “C’mon, mamas. We’re going for a drive,” he said, reaching for his keys which were on the dresser. You furrow your brows and glance at the time on your phone.

“But Jack... its 1 am,” you say, sitting up on the bed. Jack rolled his eyes as he grabbed one of his sweaters. “I didn’t ask what time it was. I said we’re going for a drive. Now put this on and let’s go,” he mused, tossing you the sweater.

You look at him with a playful smile, slipping on his sweater before you looked at the time again. “Baby, are you sure?” you ask him. He groaned and grabbed you hand, pulling you up onto your feet before smirking and giving your pouty lips a kiss. “Yes. Let’s go,” he replied enthusastically, leading you away and to the car.

He immediately connects his phone to the aux and plays your guys’ shared playlist, singing along exageratedly while you watch him in complete awe because how did you get so fucking lucky? All day you were feeling shitty and the way he was simply able to pick up on it and turn your entire day around was something you will forever cherish. He never failed to make you smile and have butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He lowered down the music a bit and turned to look at you with a smile. “Okay so you want ice cream or slushies?” he asked you. You grin, “slushy please.”

He proceeds to park in front of a gas station, telling you to wait in the car as he stepped out to grab the drinks. But before heading in, he walked around to your side of the car, motioning for you to turn down the windows. You did as told with confusion but you were pleasantly surprised when he peeked his head through to give you a kiss which you gladly accepted, your hands cupping his cheeks to kiss him better.

“Hm, what was that for?” you question him with a giggle. Jack grins as he shrugged and pulled away. “Cos I wanted to. Now I’ll be back,” he said, disappearing into the gas station. He came back out with two slushies and a bag full of snacks, entering the car and tossing the bag onto your lap. “Knock yourself out, babe,” he mused as he placed the two drinks into the cup holders. 

“You were God sent to me,” you hum, pulling out your favourite snack and practically ripping it open and popping a piece into your mouth. You pulled another one out, holding it up in front of Jack’s lips since he was focused on pulling out of the parking spot and continuing the drive. “Open up,” you say, him grinning and doing as told, to which you plopped the chip into his awaiting mouth. 

“Oh I fucking love this song,” Jack exclaimed with his mouth full, turning up the volume and beginning to rap along. He was so carefree and beautiful, his left hand hanging outside of the window while the cool wind blew against his curls. So captivating to the point that you couldn’t help but pull out your phone and begin to record him while giggling. Upon seeing you recording him, he began to exaggerate his movements and rapping louder, the biggest smile on his face because he felt so accomplished at turning your bad day around and seeing you all smiley.

You quickly save and upload the video to your Instagram story before setting your phone down and taking in a breath, enjoying the night’s breeze with your eyes closed. “So you gonna tell me why you were off all day?” he asked you, quickly glancing your way.

You sigh and shrug as you think about it. “Just one of those days I guess.”

“Did something happen?”

You shake your head as you respond, “nothing in particular. Just started questioning my life choices. Where I’m at, where I want to be,” you explain.

“Not questioning me, I hope,” he joked with a teasing smile.

“Jack...you’re like the only constant good thing in my life,” you hum, grinning as you saw him turn red. “And you doing this...it means a lot.”

“Anything for you, mamas.”

[stayinzencity]

heroine's manual S1 E2

GENRE: Romcom, Drama | love triangles, childhood friends, high school au | INSPIRED BY: Heroine Shikkaku (shoujo manga) | LENGTH: ~1.2K | RATING: Teen | WARNINGS: mentions of food, eating | PAIRINGS: Minho x MC (Reader), Minho x OC (Heather) | TAGLIST: @linoscence @elizabeth11moreno (ask to be added)

♡ previous episode

♡ return to main

TWO. We've known each other since childhood, so I understand him better than everyone else.

You don't know her name. You guess it doesn't really matter. She won't be around for long, will she? She's just a side character, so it's ok. Let her have a chance. It won't last long anyway.

She's a nice girl. You can see that. But that's never been enough before, so why does it seem like something's different now?

You lay your head down on the table, picking at a loose thread on your sweater sleeve. The seats on either side of you are taken by Seungmin and Jisung, the latter nudging you.

“Are you alright? You’re awfully pouty today,” Jisung asks. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “Nothing.”

“It’s the girl from yesterday, isn’t it? I heard she asked Minho out. Is that what’s got you bothered?” Seungmin doesn’t wait for you to respond, deciding he’s right himself. “Strange. You don’t usually let the green monster out.”

“Green monster? I’m not jealous,” you insist making an X with your hands. “No way. Why do I have to be jealous? She’s nobody.”

But then you spot Minho and her coming to lunch together, his smile and interest in her seeming more genuine than he usually shows to his girlfriends. If she’s just another fling, why is he acting like that?

You understand him better than anyone else, don't you? There can't be anyone more suited for him than you, right?

Then why is she the one beside him? How have you been replaced? Wasn't that your place?

Have you become the second female lead? Have you been pushed to the side, so that girl can shine?

Were you wrong all this time?

“She confessed, fair and square. Meanwhile, you’re here moping when you didn’t even try. You never had a chance, because all you do is stand at the side and watch from afar as he goes through relationships,” Seungmin points out when you reveal your worries to him.

“See, I told you to confess.” Jisung huffs, sharing half of his cake slice with you and swatting Seungmin when he tries to snatch some. “What’s her name anyway? Hyunjin would know, right? I think they were lab partners. And I think he used to have a crush on her too. Anyway, now it’s too late, unless you steal him away from her. ”

If that’s what it takes to get Minho, then that’s what you’ll do. “You’re a genius, Jisung.” You jump out of your seat, shoving the last pieces of food into your mouth.

“Uh sure?” Jisung looks at you with confusion as you hurry away.

Meanwhile, Seungmin facepalms. “You just gave her a bad idea. Fantastic.”

Heather. That’s her name. Or well, it’s not her actual name but the one you’ve assigned her. She’s the titular character of that Conan Grey song that you’ve been playing on repeat the entire week as you lay sprawled on your bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating the latest twist in your story. Except you’re prettier and better than her in every way, of course.

You are less of a giver of advice than a receiver. Nevertheless, you walk up to Heather. “Heather! I hope you’re well,” you beam at her. You can play the role of the benevolent best friend of the hero. Minho will fall for you if he sees how kind, accepting and mature you are being, right?

“I’m not-”

“I heard you’re dating Minho. Congratulations!” With a concerned voice you continue, “I want to warn you not to get attached to him. He’s a wonderful boyfriend, but his relationships never last long.”

“Ok. Why are you telling me this? I'm already aware of what Minho's like. Watching him from afar and secretly crushing on him for so long- I know it’s a miracle that I even have a chance now, and I’m going to make the most out of it. I have no intention of giving up so easily.”

You stare at her, taken aback. How can she be so bold trying to replace your role? You’re the heroine, not her.

You want to be selfish- without the label of 'selfish' stuck to you. You’re the heroine of this story, not the villain. Trying to get between the hero and his girlfriend doesn’t put you in the wrong, right? You’re fighting for your love, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s admirable even.

“I was going through my closet yesterday when I found these.” You bring out photo albums from your bag. “Minho’s really cute as a kid, isn’t he?” Your classmates hover around your desk, eager to take a look.

Childhood photos. That’s your first weapon.

You turn to Heather with an album. “Here, you should see the pictures too.” When Heather sees how long your deep bond with Minho has lasted, she’ll realize she has no chance and back off.

Except she doesn’t look disheartened. She just smiles pleasantly. “Wow, you two are adorable. It’s so nice that you’ve been friends since you were kids.”

“Right? She's so lucky- the girl that the hero eventually falls for. White horse, kind knight, sweet tender dreams,” Jisung sings dreamily. He’s totally doing this for you, and you adore him for it. “I wish I had a handsome prince as my childhood best friend.”

Hyunjin kicks his chair from behind, scowling. “I’ve known you since you were a toddler, loser.”

“I said handsome- yeah, ok- you’re a prince- let go-” Jisung struggles to get out of the headlock Hyunjin has him in, while Seungmin and you laugh in the background. These losers are your friends, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What’s the commotion?” It’s Minho. He narrows his eyes at Hyunjin, deciding that he’s the root of all evil. “20 minutes, 180 degrees. Are you messing with Jisung again?”

“No!” “Yes!”

Chaos erupts in the next few seconds, Hyunjin clambering to get to the other side of the classroom, while Minho follows his movements with a menacing gaze.

You catch Heather watching with a thoughtful look in her eyes. It makes you wonder if she’s just a lonely girl who wants to be loved.

Not that you care about her. She’s your rival. You can’t care if she doesn’t have any friends. It’s none of your business.

“We’re going to the café this evening,” You tell Heather. “Do you want to join us?”

It’s not out of pity that you’re asking her to come along with you and your friends. She’ll see how close your friend group is and it’ll intimidate her. Yep, that’s why. Ulterior motives only, no kind feelings here. Yeah.

Jisung meets your eyes and seems to get the message as he chimes in, "Yeah, you should come along! The more the merrier, after all."

Heather hesitates, glancing between you and Minho. Hyunjin appears at her side, wiping sweat away and sends her a smile with an encouraging nod. "Alright," she says. "If it's not a bother-"

"It's really not," Seungmin cuts in. "We're just hanging out, nothing special. Besides, if anyone's a bother, it's these guys." He accepts Minho's playful punch with a laugh, and sticks his tongue out at a scowling Hyunjin.

Even Heather can't help but smile.

♡ next episode

♡ season one guide

♡ please leave a comment, reblog with tags or send an ask to let me know what you think!!

© 2022, stayinzencity

[chiwhorei]

green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear. 

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally. 

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you. 

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you. 

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton. 

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise. 

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are. 

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet. 

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat. 

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.  

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day. 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused. 

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away. 

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move. 

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention. 

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations. 

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly. 

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question. 

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution. 

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom. 

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and  frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch. 

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs. 

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.” 

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot. 

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?” 

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked. 

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response. 

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank. 

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit. 

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat. 

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation. 

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot. 

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees. 

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy. 

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you. 

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out. 

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this. 

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts. 

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach. 

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[the-widow-sisters]

It’s Got a Lot of Pockets

Summary: Natasha has finally managed to find a place to stay for the night after she escaped Ross. Now that she has a chance to relax, she decides to take a closer look at her baby sister's prized vest. Surprisingly, in its famed pockets, she finds something that makes her positively ache to see her baby sister again.

Word Count: 2456

A/N: This was just kind of a quick, short idea that I've had in my head for a while now, and I just had to write it out 😂💖 Of course, I'll take any excuse to do an emotional analyzation of a character 🤣

Also, I'm going to try to update my current multi-chapter "The Road Trip of a Lifetime" as soon as I can 💕 The thing is that I have the fic already all planned out with an outline and everything (I know, it's like you guys don't even know me anymore, heck, I barely know myself when I'm actually following an outline 😂🤣) but I'm just having trouble with inspiration. Might be because I've done something like this for a previous fandom, but it might also be that I worked like a madwoman and way too fast and much on my other multi-chapter "Safe and Sound" that I wrote recently 😅 Idk, but I'm going to take some time to play this Avengers video game I have, and hopefully that'll spark the inspiration 🥰

I hope y'all enjoy this one! 😊

  Natasha opened the door to the motel room she had gotten, letting out a deep breath as she stepped in tiredly. Her footsteps were soundless, largely out of habit, and she quickly swept the room for any potential cameras. Once she was satisfied with what she had found, she let out a deep breath before sitting down heavily on the bed and dropping her bag next to it.

  After she had given Ross the slip, she had been on the run as fast and hard as she could go, desperately attempting to sneak back to her Norway hideout so that she could have some time to collect herself before she headed out to go save the Avengers. At this point, she was positively exhausted, and she felt almost as if she could just pass out there on the spot.

  Everything was sore. Her back, her head, her feet.

  But what hurt the most was her heart.

  She had not wanted to leave Yelena like she had. However, at the same time, she had not wanted Yelena to be associated with her and all of the mess with the Avengers. She wanted to give Yelena an opportunity at some manner of life outside of her own. One that could allow Yelena to go on and actually be someone instead of being trapped in Natasha’s current nightmare.

  Which brought her to her current dilemma. Some part of her was happy that she had managed to have time with her sister and take down the Red Room, but another part of her was worried that Yelena may not have felt the same entirely in regard to her feelings about spending time together. A darker part of Natasha, the part that was there because she had rarely experienced any different even from the Avengers, was afraid that Yelena might just never want to see her again since she had her use of her.

  Even the Avengers had left her alone at some points. When they were facing Ultron and she had been dragged back to Ultron’s hideout, a part deep within her had been terrified out of her mind. She had heard them in her comms. She knew that Clint had wanted to come for her, but Steve had told him to keep driving. Despite the fact that she understood why Steve had told him to do that, it still hurt just a little.

  But regardless of all that and all of those insecurities about Yelena and the Avengers, she found herself extremely thankful that Yelena had given her the vest.

  At the thought of the piece of clothing, Natasha looked down at it, fiddling with the collar at the top where it was laying around her neck. In spite of her better judgement and despite the fact that she felt ashamed of doing it in the first place, she raised the collar to her nose, taking in a deep breath.

  Natasha nuzzled it gently with her nose, taking in the feel of the fabric and wishing more than anything that it was her sister there against her instead. At that thought, she drew back just a little, slightly bewildered at herself for her sudden intrusive thought. She did not even know if Yelena wanted to see her again, much less actually be this close to her.

  However, she did once again drop her nose to the vest to take a halfhearted, shameful sniff. She could still smell that scent associated with her baby sister that she had managed to get small whiffs of as she had spent time with her during their time together while working together to take down the Red Room. She wanted more than anything to get a breath of the real thing.

  Natasha let out a deep breath, resigning herself to the fact that she was definitely not going to get that real thing tonight. She tiredly reached down and unzipped the vest, slowly taking it off of her as she reveled in the pain resonating through her back. Once she finally got it in her hands, she looked at it carefully, unable to resist smiling just a little as she took in the sight of the thing.

  Somehow or another, Yelena had managed to save her yet again. First, when they were young, Yelena saved her humanity, and now she had saved her from an arrest. The second paled in comparison to the first, but it was nevertheless baffling to Natasha to think of the many times that Yelena had rescued her in different ways.

  Natasha ran her hands over the vest softly. As she ran over one of the many pockets, she quickly realized that it had something inside. She furrowed her brow, looking carefully as she unzipped it. She ran her fingers down in the pocket, locking around an item as she withdrew it.

  She swiftly realized it was bubblegum. She huffed just a little with amusement, looking at the package and realizing that Yelena must have gotten it during her time in Budapest given the language written on the packaging. She ran her hands over more of the vest, suddenly feeling a little curious about what else that the blonde could have left behind in it.

  To her surprise, she suddenly felt a large protruding object in one of the pockets. It was not particularly big, but it was a little too big for the pocket that it had been stuffed into, and Natasha wasted no time reaching inside the pocket.

  There she found a small notebook. Natasha tilted her head as she withdrew it to look at it, holding it in her hands gently. It looked almost like a journal, and while Natasha did not want to pry into anything that Yelena did not want her to, she was undeniably extremely curious.

  As she took some time to consider it, she quickly realized that it was likely not an accident that the thing was in the vest. Natasha had noticed Yelena stuffing her own half of the photobooth pictures into her bra at one point, which meant that she chose to leave this little book behind.

  Natasha almost wondered if Yelena had intended on her finding it. Natasha carefully opened it, swiftly taking in scrawly handwriting that was obviously not too well-practiced. Natasha brought it a little closer to her eyes as she read it wordlessly.

 Natasha,

I just came out of the mind control about seven hours ago. Everything feels like it’s too much. My head hurts, and I can hardly think straight enough to write this in this notebook. I feel stupid for even writing this now. You’re never going to see this. And why would you care anyway? You probably don’t even know I exist while you’re off living your life.

But here I am still writing. I don’t know, I thought it was a good idea because most people have journals. Or I think they do. Maybe you even have one.

                                                                                            Yelena

    Natasha swallowed hard, looking over the page as she took in what was so obviously her sister’s handwriting. She ran the fingertips of her index and middle fingers over the notebook page, and she let out a shaking breath as she flipped the page hesitantly, waiting to see what was next in Yelena’s journal.

 Natasha,

           The headaches have become less frequent and aren’t as bad as they were. And I’ve caught up with your adventures in America. You seriously have a thing for posing. It’s disgusting. Unfortunately, it does look cool. It just looks very staged.

           And you must have a real thing for making your employers mad. First, you try to blow Dreykov up, and then you destroy SHIELD. You must really have something against authority. Honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, that’s pretty cool, too.

           And now I’ve disgusted myself.

                                                                                              Yelena

    Natasha could not help her slight laugh at Yelena’s sass even on paper. It was so typically her, and it made her so ridiculously happy to just be reading it in Yelena’s voice. Natasha shifted her eyes to the next page, starting to read once again.

 Natasha,

           You have so many friends. And a life. A real, actual life that’s so perfect in every way. I wonder if you even think of that life in Ohio anymore. If you think about me anymore. Or do you even remember me?

           I feel so stupid writing this like it’s a letter. I know journals aren’t set up like this, and it’s stupid. But I guess some small, dumb part of me is hoping that I could tell you these things. Have my real sister to share all these thoughts with.

           But things like that don’t happen for people like us. Unless they’re you. And you somehow made it. Lucky, I guess.

                                                                                               Yelena

    Natasha let out a deep breath, pain resonating deep within her as she thought of her baby sister and wished she could tell her everything right now. Tell her that she thought of her all the time. Every day, she would think of her at least once. Sometimes it was something as simple as seeing macaroni and cheese and remembering her silly smile, and sometimes it was as deep as thinking of how the Yelena that she knew from Ohio would have probably been scared of Hulk.

 Natasha,

           I managed to fool this dumb man into let me stay in one of your old hideouts in Budapest. Dreykov never found it, but it was always rumored to be in this part of the city. At first, I didn’t know it was yours, but when I got in and performed a routine check, it didn’t take long to find your stuff. Seriously, you should do better at hiding your things.

           Also, the bullet holes in the walls confuse me, and I’m not sure what they’re from. I know you must know, and I would really love to ask you. So many stupid things I would like to ask you, and you probably don’t even care.

And there’s another problem. I didn’t mention this earlier, but I have the remaining antidotes to save so many other widows. That itself is not a problem. The problem is that I have no idea how to start or how to do anything about it.

That was stupid of me to say. “I didn’t mention this earlier.” I look stupid. I’m not talking to anyone. Even though I wish I was.

                                                                                           Yelena

    Natasha softly brushed her thumb over the crossed-out words. It hurt her to see Yelena’s confusion and the struggles she was facing all alone. It made her wish she was talking to her now. At least then she might could at least attempt to resolve a few of these problems that Yelena seemed to be going through.

 Natasha,

It’s a bad decision, but when the dumb man came and said that he was here to take the things that belonged to the previous owner, I knew it was you and I had to. You’re the only hope I have to save these widows. The only connection to people that can help synthesize more antidotes. So I managed to drop the antidote’s container in the box of your things. I also left my half of our pictures attached to the antidotes.

I honestly don’t know why I did that. It’s not like you’re going to care it’s me. But I guess some part of me wanted to remind you. To see if you still remember or care. I don’t know. It’s stupid.

I guess now all that’s left to do is wait and see if you turn up.

                                                                                            Yelena

    Natasha felt her stomach sinking, everything in her wishing that she could hug Yelena or do something to take away the pain that she could feel radiating from this page in particular. She wanted to assure the girl that it was all alright and that she had always loved Yelena. She was not good with emotions, and while she did not know if Yelena wanted the exact same level of sisterhood that she did, she did at least know that Yelena cared at this point.

  Natasha turned the page, and to her shock, she quickly realized that she had reached what seemed to be the last entry in the journal. She took in a deep breath, wondering what would be written.

 Natasha,

           No matter how much you try to act like you don’t, I know you care. I don’t know how far that care goes, but I know you do, and that’s good enough for me. Now that we’re here together, it feels like a lot more things are clear and at the same time unclear.

           You are so frustrating and confusing. You care but at the same time you don’t. You’re so cold, but you’re so warm also. And I feel like I know you, but I don’t know this version of you. Not really.

But I want to get to know this version of you. I do. And I just hope you feel the same. Maybe after taking down the Red Room, we can talk and get to know each other again. Maybe that’s something you want, too.

Look at this stupid journal… If you ever end up actually reading these letters, I hope you spare me and don’t make me talk about this. It would be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever had to face.

But the insane part is I want you to read them. I want you to read them and to think of me again. I wouldn’t feel so alone in the world if I knew you were thinking of me. I hope you know I think of you. Because I do. A lot.

                                                                                               Yelena

    Natasha furrowed her brow as she realized that a droplet of fresh moisture had landed on the page. As two more fell upon the paper, she reached up and touched her face softly. She quickly realized that she was crying.

  Natasha let out a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. She checked the book for any more filled entries, and as she took in the fact that there were none left, she softly shut it. She sniffed hard, wiping at her eyes as she stood up from the bed. She quietly moved over to the motel window, looking out of it as she tried to collect herself.

  At that moment, she silently resolved to herself two things.

  She would obey Yelena’s wishes and never bring the book up again.

  However, she was also going to make a point at some point in their lives, when Natasha was perhaps a little braver, to tell Yelena how much she meant to her.

  One day.

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

[corisanna]

Another entry for @catboy-von-seckendorff's Domestic Witches AU

Inspired by his post that said Oktavia's human form has a scar where Kyoko had cut her arm/hand off when her monster form grabbed Madoka in her labyrinth and he speculated about Kyoko's feelings about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyoko is vaguely aware that she is dreaming.

She knows what is coming. She wants to wake up. Sometimes she can, but not this time. She is a helpless prisoner to this nightmare.

Kyoko is fighting Sayaka's witch. She is beaten and bloody from the attacking wheels and her barrier fails. The monstrous mermaid's armored gauntlet reaches out and grabs Madoka. Kyoko does what is logically necessary and slices the offending hand off with her spear. The witch's severed arm falls to the floor with a resounding clank of armor and the wound sprays blue blood. Kyoko stops and stares at the limb.

Suddenly, Kyoko is standing in her father's church. Fire rages around her. Smoke chokes her and makes her feel dizzy. There are pieces on the floor at her feet, scattered like a newly unboxed puzzle. She focuses on an arm. It is smeared with bright red blood.

Suddenly, the blood turns blue. She is standing before the throne in Oktavia's labyrinth. The orchestra is playing something ominous. Oktavia is sprawled at her feet in human form, right arm stretched out to her side. It ends too soon, the stump oozing blue blood. The rest of her arm is nearby.

Oktavia looks up at Kyoko with judgment on her face and says, "You of all people should know better than to do this. Especially to someone you love."

Kyoko bolts upright in bed, gasping and sweaty. Her eyes jerkily scan her surroundings and find the familiarity of her bedroom in the pale light of the coming dawn. She slaps her hand over her eyes and pants, intensely aware of her heart's pounding. It takes a while of struggling before she can control her breathing.

When she is less of a panicking mess, she turns left in bed to look at Oktavia. The witch is flat on her back with her arms bent up as if in surrender, her hands beside her head on her pillow. Her face is peaceful in sleep. Kyoko's eyes are drawn to Oktavia's right arm. Directly to the very obvious scar halfway up her forearm, mirroring the site of the wound Kyoko had dealt to her monstrous form. It encircles her entire arm, a pale and somewhat shiny ring that tells a story. A permanent reminder.

Kyoko reaches out with one shaking hand and brushes her fingertips across the scar. She regrets it when Oktavia's eyes flutter open and sleepily search for the source of the touch. Oktavia stares for a minute as she wakes more, then turns her eyes from Kyoko's hand on her arm to Kyoko's face. Kyoko knows she must look like a mess.

"That one again?" Oktavia asks quietly.

Kyoko can only nod.

Oktavia gives a little sigh and looks sympathetic. "You know it's not the same. In your head."

Kyoko nods.

"You know I'm grateful to you for stopping me from doing something I would never have forgiven myself for. No matter how you had to do it."

Kyoko nods.

"But it still hasn't gotten through to your heart."

Kyoko closes her eyes and shakes her head.

She feels the bed shift as Oktavia rolls toward her. Oktavia's other hand caresses her face. "Despair is a stubborn thing," she says gently. "I wish I could take it all for you so you'd have more peace."

It's something she says whenever Kyoko's ghosts come to haunt her. Kyoko knows it's not just a platitude. She leans her head into Oktavia's hand and fails to find a reply. She knows she'll feel better, more objective about it all in the light of day. But that time is not now and Oktavia can't solve this problem with words or magic.

Oktavia's arms wrap around her and pull her down to lay beside her. Being held feels good. Kyoko relaxes some. Oktavia starts humming a song and stroking her hair. Kyoko is gradually soothed back to sleep. This time she dreams of Oktavia singing with ocean waves as they hold whole hands in the surf. It is a happy dream.

[madamedevien]

Infernal Heat

Hey! It’s been a while - I really miss you guys.  Anyway, I know that a lot of you were keeping up to date with my Mammon x GN! Reader fic...while I’m updating it regularly on my AO3, I thought that I’d post the chapters that I’ve got here as well. I’m planning for it to be a 4 chapter fic, but let’s see how that goes! Warnings in tags (both here and AO3) - monster fucking comes into play much more come Chapter 3 and 4. The biggest thanks to @mawwart for their inspiration and @popcherrypop for reading over what I had all those months ago and actually helping me find direction. I’ve got a bigger/cheesier spiel on AO3, but anyway. Fingers crossed that the ‘Keep Reading’ line shows up here...

Chapter 1: Embers

The Great Mammon had woken up in a mood. He'd felt this creeping up for days now and he wished that it would just come and go already. It was hella distracting to have a constant tug of warmth and want in your gut, y'know? And it was annoying to feel the incessant need to primp and to add to the nest of pillows, blankets, sentimental and decorative items that now overtook most of his bed. But he was due a heat cycle. Annoyingly, he felt that it was probably going to settle in properly on that particular day and he'd been wrangled into going shopping by you. And for whatever reason he'd agreed. Not because he had a crush on you or anything. Damn, he couldn't even remember what you two were meant to be shopping for, that's how addled his mind was. Mammon really just wanted to stay put and perfect his nest. Maybe show it off to you. Although he wasn't sure if you'd appreciate the fact that he'd stolen a few items of yours while on laundry duty to tuck into said nest. Or that he wanted to maybe do something kind of nasty to a piece of your clothing. If not you. 

But would you want to? To see his nest? To lay in it, lay with him, to mate with him? He wanted you to. So very, very badly. He didn’t feel like he deserved you but, oh, to say that he wanted you was a vast understatement. Fuck. 

He groaned and threw one of his tanned arms over his eyes. The silveret realised that he was going to have to partially dislodge his beautiful nest to pull out Goldie (he couldn't go shopping without her - the very thought was offensive!) and that he was going to have to get rid of his raging boner before he faced you. 

So into a cold shower he trudged, loudly cursing the whole time.

---

Longest shopping trip in fucking history. 

It seemed like you were in need of freakin' everything imaginable. He wasn't to know that you were actually just taking your time because it'd been a while since the two of you had some time to yourselves. The demon had been acting strangely around you the past few days, although he was completely oblivious to just how weird it’d been for you.

And today, the Avatar of Greed just wasn't engaging. Questions went unanswered, as if he hadn't heard even when clearly looking at you, no boasting or sulking occurred, no bets or harebrained schemes hatched...he didn't even take you up on your offer of Hell Sauce Noodles! The demon was completely disinterested in all of this - the only thing he was interested in was you. He was also trying very very hard not to let his thoughts slip into anything inappropriate. Which was probably the single most difficult thing he’d had to do in all of his many years. Mammon wanted to take your hand and lace your fingers together; to shamelessly nuzzle your cheek in front of everyone on Silent Avenue. The thought made his heart swell. Better yet, if you were mated, he could kiss you in front of the whole crowd before publicly mounting you and-

Damn, it was hard to keep lewd thoughts at bay. He could feel his cheeks burning and looked away when your concerned expression turned to him. 

On the trek home (finally!), he fell into a lazy pace behind you and Mammon couldn’t help it as you walked together. His cerulean gaze raked over the beautiful curve in your neck - the space was perfect. In his mind, he could see how perfectly his head would fit and how the mark he could leave there would only accentuate the beauty of your skin. It’d be a gorgeous brand that would loudly proclaim to all, ‘I am mated to THE Great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed and Second of the Seven; don’t you dare even think to touch me’. The very notion only caused the flush of heat over his skin to worsen and his breath to hitch; he wanted to tear into his flesh to relieve himself of the insufferable and fiery itch.

The same thoughts washed over his brain again and again like some cruel tide, even once you'd passed through the doors of the House of Lamentation.

It took only a scant moment. He didn’t even think. The silver haired demon was aware that he was losing his mind due to his damned biology, but he didn’t realise that he was so far gone that he would do something so stupid. It was only your screech that alerted him to the fact that he had pulled you tight to his chest, that he was actually in the process of sinking sharp fangs into your supple skin. The sudden realisation made him tear off of you in surprise. 

Beel had been the first to burst through a doorway and into the corridor. The redhead stopped dead in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at the two of you; you with your hand clamped over the section of your neck that had been bitten, and Mammon an arm’s length away from with a look of abject horror painted over his handsome features. Stupid Mammon, indeed. The next to burst in was Lucifer, who looked ready for a proper melee. The sound that had come from you had genuinely startled the older brother, not that he’d admit that if asked. As his garnet gaze took in the scene before him, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Mammon…” Lucifer’s voice was dangerously low. Mammon shook his head urgently in response, “Nonono, Luci, it didn’t - I mean, yeah, it is what it looks like an’ I didn’t mean ta, but it...it’s not deep enough. Y’know?” The second brother sounded desperate. Mammon anxiously twisted his rings around his tanned fingers and had to fight back the tears that threatened the edges of his vision. He could have hurt you. “Oh, I think you’ll find that it’s more than deep enough.” Lucifer stalked toward you and put his hand on top of the one you were using to cover your wound. “Let me see how much damage the fool inflicted on you”. Mammon could see the frown that pulled at your mouth as you revealed the bite mark to his brother. No proper damage - the indents might linger, but no blood had been drawn; no skin had been broken. 

“It was more from the surprise than pain, Lucifer. I just wasn’t expecting someone to bite me, you know? That’s the kind of thing that I’d expect more from a very hungry Beel.” Your attempt to lighten the mood only made the Avatar of Pride’s expression sour further - but Beel muttered a small, “Fair”. Lucifer sounded positively glacial when he spoke again. “Beelzebub, please take our brother to his room." The Avatar of Gluttony nodded solemnly, gently taking the second eldest’s shoulder. Mammon stared miserably at the floor, guilt clearly written on his flushed face although he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t trust himself to. Not after such a stupid stunt. As the other two made their way up the stairs, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. 

This wouldn’t be pleasant.

--

It was no surprise to Mammon that Lucifer texted him shortly after the whole ordeal. He was just thankful that Lucifer hadn’t decided to come up to his room and literally tear into him after biting you. Of all the people to bite in the entire Devildom, it just had to be you didn’t it? Lucifer: Mammon. I have strictly instructed the household that you are not to be disturbed until I have given the all clear. You will stay in your room and I will bring you provisions at regular intervals. If you need anything, you will let me know. Are we clear? Mammon: Yes. Lucifer: Good. He waited, hopeful that Lucifer would provide an update on you. After an eon of waiting (which was actually all of seven minutes) he decided to ask. Mammon: Are they okay?

Lucifer: They are. And they will continue to be so long as you stay in your room and do not venture out. Ensure that you lock your door and remember to take your pheromone blockers as well or the whole house will reek of your mating scent. What were brothers for, if not a good motivational speech? --- Chapter 2: Flames Even with Lucifer’s reminder, Mammon had forgotten to take the pheromone blockers and to lock the door. He’d been far too distracted; worrying about your state of health, whether he’d damaged your relationship beyond repair, still trying to keep the lewd thoughts at bay, his instincts fretting over the piece of nest that had been dismantled earlier… It was a lot to be preoccupied with, okay? Without the pheromone blockers, the corridor outside of Mammon’s room was thick with the sweet perfume of a demonic male in heat. It was rich and cloying, the kind of scent that would cling to one’s clothes much to the annoyance of the other residents (Asmodeus excluded).  Mammon, however, didn’t care. He was too busy now attempting to cool the heat in the pit of his stomach and to regain some clarity of mind. An attempt at sleep had been made once his nest had been repaired and Goldie tucked into her rightful place, the lights turned down low and his clothes discarded to some far corner so that he could crawl into the nest in a comfortable state...but how could he sleep when obscene images of you kept popping into his head?  At first, he had tried to keep some semblance of his mind. The demon didn’t like to lose control during his heats. If he could keep his mind, he would keep to his more humanoid forms - and that was what he wanted. Because if you did, by chance, happen upon him...well. He didn’t want to scare you. Before he allowed himself to spiral into the anxiety of your imagined reaction, he reached for his ridiculously large bottle of lube. If he was going to dwell on the thought of anything, it was going to be how good he knew you’d feel… --- Mammon wouldn’t have been able to say how much time had passed. He had brought himself to orgasm more times than he could count - but it only seemed to just take off the edge. A demon’s heat was never an easy thing, but why was this time around so damn difficult?  Satan would have been able to answer that with ease, the smug bastard; if a demon chooses a mate they will, naturally, be most inclined to couple with said mate for optimal breeding. To not couple with a chosen mate could make a heat worse - but to withhold coupling at all? Well, it would be a foolish endeavour.  The Avatar of Greed hadn’t realised just how he was slipping ; wings and horns had appeared without him even registering and his fangs had dropped to a predatory length (which he only noticed when he had apparently attempted to put a mating mark on a pillow covered in one of your stolen shirts that he’d been desperately rutting against, much to his embarrassment).  His breathing was rough. Mammon was equal parts exhausted and invigorated. He wanted nothing more than to let his knees fall out from under him so that sleep would hopefully take him - he wanted to stalk down the hall and into your room and fuck you senseless. And if Lucifer found out? Well, Mammon would love to see him try to pry you from his arms.  The very thought made him snarl, his grip on his cock tightening. It was enraging to even think that his brother would dare, a thought that had him so preoccupied that he didn’t hear the door click open.  His blue eyes slipped over to you and the wet sound of him furiously fucking his fist stopped abruptly. It was impossible to tell which one of you was redder. This was not what he had been expecting. “Uh-” A rasp of your name interrupted you. “Didn’t Lucifer tell you not to come?” He watched as you nodded dumbly, “Yes”. Heavy breath was the only noise to pass between you several beats. The demon in front of you was wondering whether this was fate; you weren’t running, you looked interested and, fuck, you smelled so good. You smelled aroused and it made him growl; “C’mere then”. The way that you slammed the door and scampered toward him practically had him preening in pleasure. Just as eager, Mammon scrambled over to meet you, flustered yet excited, and hauled you up close to him. He bumped your foreheads together. From here it was easy to see how incredibly blown his pupils were, to feel how desperately ragged his breathing was. You were dangerously close. “Now, see here, I'm gonna give ya one chance to go. ‘Cause if I kiss ya, I’m not gonna be able to stop. I won’t be able to let ya go. You’ll be stuck with me for the whole fuckin’ ride, ya hear?” Holy shit, his voice was so strained. “Then kiss me, you dummy.” No repeat was necessary. Mammon threaded his fingers into your hair, hesitating for only the briefest moment before pressing his lips to yours. When you responded in kind his fervour, his deep rooted greed, quickly followed. He’d wanted to kiss you from day one and not a moment had gone by since  without him imagining it. This felt so incredibly right. But he couldn’t ignore the heat curling in his gut. He needed you, wanted you. And as far as he could tell, despite the dark whispers in the back of his mind saying otherwise, you seemed to feel the same.The way that you returned his greedy kisses, how your fingers had twisted sharply in his hair, how you didn’t seem to mind the messy clicking of his elongated fangs against your blunt teeth as he tried to figure out how best to navigate your mouth in this form - how could he deny that he was wanted?  Mammon's only regret when looking back on this evening with you would be not savouring your body laid bare for him for the first time. His mind was too heat-addled to appreciate it; he was unable to slowly peel off your layers and to have the sentiment returned in kind as he had previously fantasised about. In his mind’s eye, he had a whole big romantic gesture planned if you had decided to sleep with him. Previously, he had imagined how he would make love to you and treasure every moment of it...but alas… Your clothes were quickly stripped from you, sharp fangs nipping at new skin as it was exposed. There was no delicate treatment here and he paid no heed to the sound of torn material. When he next plundered your mouth, it was far smoother than the first time - he was a fast learner, after all.  The only complaint that he had about kissing you was that it muffled those beautiful noises of yours. When he broke the seal of your mouths it was to gently toss you back toward the top of the bed, deeper into his nest and into the comfort of a ridiculous amount of pillows - to properly secure you into his nest. To see you like that felt...good. It felt right. It was clear that was exactly where you belonged. The very image had him growling in satisfaction as he took the opportunity to crawl over your body, his fingers gripping at the meat of your thighs and hips as if ensuring that you were truly there with him. Thankfully, his nails had not yet turned into talons or they would have pierced through you with ease at the way that he handled your flesh.  Mammon had to take a deep breath when he looked at you this time. He needed to make sure that he didn’t hurt you while doing this - it was the last thing in the world that he wanted. It was unusual for the Avatar of Greed to put the needs of others before his own...but you weren’t just some ‘other’. You were you. His very own treasure, his very own mate. Reluctantly, a hand left your body to fish for something buried within the nest. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” He coated his fingers generously in lube, desperate to ensure that he would cause as little pain as possible, “Just fuckin’ perfect”. Two fingers slipped into you as Mammon spoke, his tone low and hoarse. Never had he imagined just how difficult it would be to hold himself back like this, nor could he have been prepared for just how much desire he felt in that moment. The sensation of your hot core wrapped around his fingers had him shamelessly rutting against your thigh, a poor attempt at taking the edge off of his lust.  A human really had no business wrecking him like this. His heat cycles were normally pretty boring - desperate rutting for a day or two and then back to normal life. You had no right to set his skin aflame like this, no right to have him feel like he could cum just from the noise you made once he had three fingers fucking into your heat. The way his blood was rushing in his ears was deafening...and he wanted more. It didn’t take too long for it all to get too much. Even all of the dark hickies that he had furiously littered your neck, chest and shoulders with weren’t enough to distract him from the wet sound of his fingers preparing you or the stunning sounds he managed to pull from you when he got the angle of his hand just right.  Mammon would never admit it, but he kind of missed his target. The point of removing his hand from you had been to slip himself right in. Instead, as he kissed you he rolled his slick cock against your sex...which, to be fair, had felt better than your thigh. And if the sound that you’d made in response was anything to go by, you thought so too.  He liked that noise. A lot. So he rolled his hips against you again, groaning in response to you. Ever eager to please, the greedy demon found a rhythm that you both seemed to enjoy in the interim. “Ya like that, huh?” Mammon wasn’t sure where the cockiness in his tone was coming from when internally he felt so nervous. It was those very nerves that quickly had his hand moving to guide his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you before you could retort. Mammon didn’t realise it would silence both of you.  By no means was he a virgin. The Great Mammon would have it known that he was a proper Casanova type, thank you very much. He just didn’t realise how different it would feel coupling with someone that he truly and deeply loved. The heat causing that deep need to breed the closest thing with a pulse didn’t help things, of course.  It was...incredible, for lack of a better word. Divine. Mammon choked on an Infernal curse once seated completely in you and had to literally bite his tongue to keep an anchor on his self-control.  All of that hard earned control was thrown out the window when his name passed your lips.  There was no hesitation in how his hips pistoned, fucking into you relentlessly. His hands manoeuvred to cradle the back of your knees and he pushed your legs back to allow him more access to your body, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. The noises that left him were snaps and snarls of Infernal praise, not that he realised. The only thought on Mammon’s mind was his primal objective of breeding you until neither of you could move ; it didn’t matter whether you could actually fall pregnant or not. No logic or worry clouded his mind with these thoughts. All he could focus on was filling you with his seed until he couldn’t any more, the thought of your stomach tender and round because of his affections toward his mate... Mammon’s first orgasm came with an embarrassing quickness. When he spilled inside of you, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your chest, he was quickly filled with a relief and warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. For the first time since his heat had set in, there was true clarity in his mind. While his natural instincts weren’t completely quelled, it was enough for him to actually think with something other than his adamantly pulsing dick. His relief quickly fell to mortification, the shadows of which were clear on his features when he pulled back to look at you. His cheeks were tinted red both from exertion and embarrassment ; he hadn’t paid enough attention to get you to climax. He was quick to stutter out your name, mouth tripping on the words that were trying to get out of his mouth as his sluggishly content brain tried to supply words just beyond reach. “What, isn’t The Great Mammon going to make me cum?” Your sass fanned the flames in his loins. A playful snarl was made in response, “Oh sweetheart. I’m going to make you cum so fuckin’ hard you black out. You won’t be able to feel your legs by the time I’m done with you”. And so The Great Mammon set to work. --- Mammon hummed contentedly as you lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck hours later. This was perfection. Strong fingers stroked your thighs as he enjoyed the sensation of you wrapped around his hips, the pleasure of you sat on his lap while cuddled up together in your nest. The demon toyed with the thought of pushing his hips up just to make you gasp from the overstimulation, but decided against it. Although he was loath to admit it, you needed rest - because Mammon had been good to his word, ensuring that you both had more than your fair share of orgasms.  But this was good. The fire in his gut had died down to crackling embers, although he knew it would flare up again soon - but you would be there to help ease him through it. And you even seemed to like helping him out. What was the phrase… ‘mutually beneficial’? Somethin’ like that. His eyes fluttered open when he heard your chuckle. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew how freakin’ stunning you were when you smiled like that. “What?” When your eyes met his, he was pouting frowning. The laugh that you let out only made his brow furrow more, “I said what. What’s got ya laughin’ like that, huh? You should be out like a freakin’ light by now”. It wasn’t until you replied that he realised how obvious it was, “I didn’t know that demons could purr”. Mammon squawked loudly and attempted to divert your attention - he sounded like a damn motor! It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t even able to control the way he was going off… It was embarrassing. “Well, yeah, y’know, sometimes. We’re incredible ‘n mysterious creatures us demons, y’know! Demons are capable of things that your human mind couldn’t even comprehend! Anyway, ’s not like ’s all the time or anythin’ like that…” He tried to occupy himself and forget about the heat radiating from his face by playing with your hair - but he could feel you smiling against the crook of his neck. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” The incredible and mysterious demon sounded more like a petulant child (well, a purring and petulant child). “So, when do you normally purr?” “I dunno. When we’re happy, I guess?” “Does that mean I haven’t made you happy before?” The way that he spluttered was definitely worth teasing him. “Who said that ya haven’t made me happy?! ‘N besides, this is different!” Even Mammon couldn’t deny that he was now pouting, but he tried to focus on the feeling of your fingers running along his shoulders. It was nice; soothing, even. Until he felt a sharp tug on the back of his neck.  “Ouch! You gotta be more gentle than that!” The look of surprise on your face made him want to curl in on himself. “Mammon - are those feathers?” “Phffft,” The greedy demon rolled his eyes and tried to deflect your query, “Shaddap. You dunno what you’re talking ‘bout”.  When your mouth opened again, he did take the opportunity to thrust sharply into you. At the gasp, he lurched forward with a passionate kiss. Simply to shut you up, of course. No hidden agenda. His pleased purring melted into a deep rumbling, the fire in his belly stoking itself back to life. It was impossible for him not to roll you over to allow him to bask in more of your shared passion. The laughter that ensued, laughter that he was sure was aimed at him, only made his heart swell as much as his cock.

[emmyhem]

always (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always. 

warnings:  very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :( 

word count: 2.6k

Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself. 

Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again. 

“Y/n”

For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him. 

Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head. 

It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke. 

You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses. 

Had you gotten the time wrong? 

But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio. 

Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend. 

Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine. 

Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest. 

“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.

When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left. 

“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.  

That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 

“Hi, my love.” he cooed. 

A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it” 

You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you. 

With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.” 

And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and  you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him. 

You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that. 

Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed. 

“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.” 

“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground. 

“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration. 

Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.” 

“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.” 

“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted. 

“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.” 

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.” 

“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.

“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”

He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes. 

“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely. 

You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak. 

Was that what he thought about you? 

This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face. 

You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend. 

Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you. 

He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.” 

Yeah right. 

“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back. 

“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word. 

You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty. 

As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted. 

Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked. 

“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you. 

“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room. 

This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.

“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?” 

You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door. 

“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you. 

You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk. 

“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.

You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.” 

His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know?” 

“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out. 

This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away. 

“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back. 

After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning. 

His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid. 

Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.” 

Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath. 

He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu” 

He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night. 

The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper. 

He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney. 

He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly. 

“Lu, 

Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you. 

Yours always, 

               Y/n” 

He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest. 

That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.

About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.

He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation. 

Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you. 

Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button. 

With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 

“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks” 

But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake. 

“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of  the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.”  his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-”  his pleads were cut off by the dial tone. 

“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen. 

pt. 2

[markosmate]

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au://  Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy. 

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly. 

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom. 

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

-

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.