#if you so shit like this at least let us adjust how bright the blue is in our settings?

[plague-of-insomnia]

Tumblr, could you maybe make the blue in dark mode in your latest update even brighter?? /sar

Bc clearly we don’t use dark mode bc you know, we want shit DARK or anything yeah, no, it’s cool, thanks for making DMs unusable for me now

#like honestly wtf #if you so shit like this at least let us adjust how bright the blue is in our settings? #did you make the blue for tags brighter too or is it just my head hurting from this shit making me think that? #fucking dumblr #maybe you should have learned from discord and that wasn’t even as bad bc it wasn’t the entire text box #not kuro #accessibility issues #set a reminder to send a report to wip tomorrow about this bullshit

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 2

Chapter Warnings: Violence (Man on woman), just really horrible treatment of reader, allusions to sexual assault

You weren’t even sure what was happening. First, you had reached for the man’s arm— stupid, stupid, stupid, you knew better— and then you were on the ground. It didn’t hurt but it was startling. You kept your head down, moving slowly. Maybe Todd hadn’t seen. The stranger’s boot fell into your line of sight, just before Todd’s shiny loafers. 

Shit. 

Todd’s grip on your bicep was bruising. It would definitely leave marks, would have even before he yanked you up so hard that your head snapped back. 

“What have I told you about touching the customers without asking?”

Your mouth moved without sound, surely making you look like a fish out of water. You really didn’t know how to answer. You knew better! Stupid!

“Hey, man, she—”

You should have expected the strike. You deserved it, really. It was the one thing that had been beaten into you over and over. Not all clients reacted as strongly as this one had, though. They would yell at you, call you names. Sometimes they’d call over Todd or even Big Jazz himself. None before had ever physically thrown you. Yet, from the stricken expression he wore, he had the nerve to feel bad about it. 

You knew better than to argue. Talking back only made things worse. You had seen worse too many times before they had managed to break you. You didn’t make a sound when Jazz wrapped your hair around his fist to force you to your feet. 

Through the small gap between your fingers, you saw the stranger leaving but he seemed reluctant; a haunted look in his eyes that you knew well. 

“Hey!”

You lowered your hands but only slightly. Jazz and Todd would only make it hurt more if you were caught looking at the client you drove out. 

“How much fer her?” 

What?!

You staggered out behind the two men and fell against the building’s exterior to shield your eyes from light you had not seen in— wait, how long had you been there? 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ya saw wha’ they was doin’ ta ‘er, same as I did!”

“It wasn’t our problem!”

“It don’ hafta be our problem now! She’s free!”

Free? You weren’t free. You had been sold. Auctioned off like livestock. A new boss, a new set of rules to follow. Never free. 

“Maybe she can give us a ride then, Daryl, because otherwise we have a long walk ahead of us!”

“Man, jus’ get the bags outta the car!”

When the men grew quiet, you slowly slid your hands down your face, blinking a few times to let your eyes adjust. The sun was so bright, so warm on your skin. You’d forgotten what that felt like. Your clothing—or lack thereof— only allowed for more warmth to seep in, stealing the chill from your bones. You inhaled deeply. You didn’t even mind the stench of death that seemed to linger in the air; it did little to overwhelm nature’s scent. The sky, the trees, the birds; it was as if you were seeing it all for the first time. 

“Ya alrigh’?”

You gasped, standing as straight as you could, but wobbled on your silver heels. You hoped your makeup was still okay. You hadn’t cried but the slap from Todd had probably made a mess of your eye. Hopefully, you’d be at least close to what he had wanted. If he tried to sell you back, Jazz would—

“S’yer name?” The man asked, his southern drawl thick but not unattractive. Even the layer of dirt on his skin had some sort of appeal. In fact, without ogling, there didn’t seem to be anything about him that was unattractive. Except maybe the permanent scowl he seemed to wear. He’d had it inside as well, save for when Todd had hit you and the moment just before he’d started the transaction. You’d never forget that look. Still, even now, there was a kindness in his pretty blue eyes that betrayed him. 

You jumped when he snapped his fingers just in front of your nose. Shit. Five minutes in and he’d already have to punish you. You quickly lowered your eyes. 

“Y/N, Sir.” You answered meekly. Never speak louder than Sir.

He merely grunted in reply, his friend approaching with a backpack outstretched. Maybe he hadn’t noticed you staring, though you found that hard to believe. You looked up from under your lashes and watched him sift through the pack to produce a half-empty bottle of water and a granola bar. He held both out to you, arching an eyebrow when you stared at the offering quizzically. 

“It’s, um…it’s not lights out, Sir.”

“Name’s Daryl. This s’Rick. And wha’ the hell s’that mean?”

“Sir?”

“Daryl. Lights out. Whaddaya mean s’not lights out?” He looked as confused as you felt. 

“I only, uh, eat at lights out. Sometimes in the, uh… sometimes in the morning if I did good the night before.”

“Th’fuck?” He sounded genuinely outraged. Maybe he meant to only feed you once. Maybe Jazz had actually been kind in his own way after all. “Y’ain’t gotta worry ‘bout all tha’ anymore.” He offered the food again, pushing it closer. 

“Sir?”

“Daryl. Take it.” 

With trembling hands, you accepted the items and held them close, not daring to open either until he had explicitly given his permission. “Thank you.” You whispered. 

“Ain’t nothin’.” Daryl shouldered the bag, and pointed toward his left. “Nothin’ much down tha’ way ‘less ya got people ya might be lookin’ for. I’d say North’s ya best bet.”

“Sir?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the other man— Rick— snickering behind him. “Daryl—y’know, don’ even matter. See ya, Y/N.”

“Good luck.” Rick gave you a curt nod before both turned and began walking the very direction Daryl had just said was a waste of time. 

That really threw you for a loop. Was this some sort of test of your loyalty? Your obedience? Heels click-clacking against the pavement, you caught up and fell in behind them, keeping a respectable distance. Your throat burned and your stomach growled, but he hadn’t told you to partake of the food and water. Maybe he would once he saw how good you could be. 

You watched him glance over his shoulder before sharing a look with Rick. He stopped and turned to face you. “Wha’re ya doin’?”

“Was that not enough space?” You asked sincerely. The man stared at you with the most bewildered expression. “Too much?”

“Nah, why ya followin’ us?” Daryl looked angry now, stepping the slightest bit closer to cast a frightening shadow over your smaller form. 

“Be-because you own me, Sir.”

His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline as he floundered for a moment before settling back into the stoicism you assumed was his natural state. “Y’ain’t property. That place s’fucked up. Ya can go wherever ya wan’ now.” You stared at him, wide eyes blinking slowly. He didn’t say anything else before turning and starting away from you again. 

“Sir?”

He stopped, shoulders tensing. “S’Daryl.”

“I, um… I don’t have anywhere to go.” Your voice was so small that you thought you might have to repeat yourself. Still, both men turned toward you yet again. “I…don’t remember how to be anything else.”

They shared another look before Daryl rolled his eyes and nearly stomped back over to where you still stood. “How many walkers ya killed?”

“Daryl.”

He held a hand up to silence Rick, actually looking a bit shocked when the other man shook his head and crossed his arms but said nothing else. 

“How many?”

“None.” You answered just as quietly as before. 

“Wonderful.” That was dripping with sarcasm. “How many people?”

You met his eyes again, suddenly terrified to answer. He was obviously irritated but that kindness was still there. You just didn’t feel like you should— or even could— lie to him. 

“One.”

“Why?”

You took a deep breath and stood a little straighter, feeling your face heat up when his eyes dropped to your almost completely exposed breasts before snapping back just as quickly, like he didn’t mean for it to happen. 

“One of Bigg Jazz’s men. He… he, um, needed to make sure I could do what they wanted. So he—” You trailed off, hoping he could fill in the rest. “I fought back. Killed him. That’s why I was treated differently from the other girls. He was Todd’s brother.”

His expression remained the same. It frightened you just how unreadable he seemed to be. He turned to Rick, apparently communicating his question without the need for words. The other man shook his head and put his hands on his hips, reminding you of your father. 

“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t the one to start this.”

Daryl promptly raised his middle finger and dropped it before giving you his attention. After a few uncomfortable moments, he sighed. “What the hell m’I doin’? Alrigh’, fine. But eat tha’ so ya don’ keel over n’ take those off.” He was pointing at your heels. “Make too much racket.” He spun and walked toward Rick. 

You nodded, just barely succeeded in containing your enthusiasm. You dared not smile. “Thank you. I’ll be real good. You won’t regret it, Sir.”

He froze mid-step, but didn’t turn. Shaking his head, he continued forward while you managed to remove your shoes and take a bite of the granola bar at the same time. 

Ahead of you, Rick watched as Daryl passed him by, smirking as he fell in step beside him. “She’d better keep up if we’re going to cover any ground before making camp.” He paused, lips twitching in an effort at self control. “Sir.”

“Shuddup.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #Daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader

[syrstab]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SUNSET SPOTTING!

a/n : hi so this isnt my best piece of work, i js felt like i needed 2 post :P (also, im REALLY shit at writing furina + neuvillette, i js wanted to try writing them, sorry if its inaccurate :( +THE BEGINNING IS HARD TO READ LIKE I HATE IT SM ARRRGHHH - i reread this and i found it MAD cringey sooo..

SUMMARY - basically you and furina suggested to neuvillette to go out in public. of course neuvillette was a busy man, but he just has to make time for you. ( also watching the sunset :> )

you and furina were catching up over some tea, as you two rarely saw each other as you were both so busy with work.

“hey furina..”

“yes y/n?” furina looked up, her bright blue eyes meeting yours, taking a sip of her tea

“you, me and my darling neuvillette should go out today.” you say proudly, as if all three of you would go out together. it’s always just been you and furina.

furina giggled when you called neuvillette your 'darling' and took another sip of her tea whilst looking around. “your absolutely obsessed with neuvillette, y/n. I personally find it adorable how you gush over him twenty-four seven , but, i highly doubt all three of us would go out. neuvillette is practically drowning in work…”

you pursed your lips, as if you really thought about it

“just you watch furina, all three of us WILL go out together!” you say with a smug smirk, getting out of your chair.

“y/n, y/n, y/n…” furina sighed putting her tea down and following you.

you proudly walked to neuvillettes office, where of course, he’s doing boring documents and signing papers.

“how’s my gorgeous, cunning, sexy, handsome, beautiful, iconic, courageous boyfriend THE neuvillette doing?” you beam whilst opening the door, furina trailing behind you

“well, hello to you too, y/n.” neuvillette smiles. he knew you were going to ask him for something, as you don’t usually call him those lovey-dovey names. at least, not all together.

“i have a teeny, tiny itzy bitzy request for you.” you grin, furina facepalming knowing damn well this whole 'going out together' thing isn’t going to happen and it’s just going to be you and furina, again.

“go on, my love.” neuvillette stops writing and places his quill down, then interlocking his fingers together like some sort of ceo, i mean he is chief justice of fontaine..

“sooo… i was wondering if you could stop working for an hour or two, to go out in public to clear our minds? we both know how stressed out you’ve been recently.” you furrowed your brows at that last comment, attempting to persuade him to stop working

he purses his lips, glancing at the window in his office “mmm… as much as i want too, i simply cannot. i’m sure furina told you about how much work i’m doing.”

“pretty pleaaaaseeeeee neuuuuuvi?” neuvillette knew you were the type to try to get anyone do anything for you, and the fact you added his adorable nickname you made for him, he REALLY thought about it.

“come on y/n, maybe just us TWO should go out together. let’s LEAVE this poor man alone.” furina says, adjusting her little top hat on her head, attempting to egg you on with the comment she just made

“you’re SO right furina!! we should DEFINITELY go out together, WITHOUT the chief justice of Fontaine!!” you and furina turned around, backs facing neuvillette, arm in arm, smiling at eachother

“have fun, you two. don’t get into too much trouble.” neuvillette waved you and furina off, your mouth agape as neuvi said this. was this man REALLY being serious?

“uggghhhhhhh please neuvi? just for an hour! pretty please with a cherry on top?” you turned around, and at this point you were properly begging for this man, and neuvi took notice of your whiny voice

furina chuckled at how desperate you were for him to go out. neuvillette usually kept himself out of the public eye, unless you dragged him outside.

you grasped neuvillette’s hand, pulling him outside his office. “you can do those shitty documents later, the suns about to set.. and there’s nothing like watching the sunset with my lovely boyfriend!” you gleamed at neuvi, furina leading you outside to the nearest aquabus station she could find.

you found yourself on the aquabus which Aeval was always on, and you, furina and neuvillette stroke up a conversation with her. you weren’t talking about anything specific, just whatever came to mind.

after a while, you came to romaritime harbor. there weren’t many people there, as it was getting late.

“you don’t have to act all tough and regal, neuvi.” you nudged him lightly, as it seemed he was holding a lot of weight on his shoulders, after all, he is a very important man.

“i suppose so. there isn’t many civilians around today..” neuvillette huffed, dropping his shoulders ever so slightly

“awwh, what cuties you two are…” furina giggled to herself as the three of you walked towards the edge of the balcony

the sun was setting behind sumeru’s desert mountains, and everything felt perfect.

you stood in between furina and neuvillette, staring out whilst your head rested on neuvillette’s shoulder. there was a comfortable silence in the air.

“i love you, neuvillette.”

“i love you too, y/n.”

“...aaaaaaand BOOM! you get married to eachother, have kids and live happily ever after.” furina smirked, knowing you’d blush at the thought of getting married to the iudex himself,  neuvillette.

“oh shush, furina.” you waved her off, one hand covering your cheeks as they were painted a rosy pink

“…i would like that.” neuvillette says, looking at the painted sky

“...like what?” you asked, looking up at him

“i would like to get married to you, and have children with you.” neuvi looked down at you, making eye contact

“i would like that, too.” you smiled at him.

“ooooooooooooooh~” furina says in a high pitched voice, leaning forwards

“oh shut up, furina!” you and neuvillette groaned in unison, and once you both realised you said that at the exact same time, you all started laughing together.

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #furina fluff #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette fanfic #furina fanfic

[m3gahet]

25 for snickles

You guys know about the polar plunge? Also my Google history now has "can you eat pussy underwater" so that's fun

25- Write your otp bathing or swimming together + Snickles

“Yer fucking with us.” Pickles gaze is fixed on the icey waters beneath the dock's edge. He can't help but shiver, dressed in only his swimming trunks and a robe. 

“Ams not!” Skwisgaar exclaims, clearly insulted. His full lips pulled into a pout and arms crossed over his chest. “I told yous. Once you ams in its amazings.” Pickles caught the mischievous glint in those blue eyes before he could look back at the water. 

“Don't ya fucking dare.” 

“I'm nots doing anythings!” 

“Would you two shut up?!” Nathan's voice manages to echo with actually having yelled. It is effective. Skwisgaar huffs but doesn't speak, Pickles squats down as if it'll make the water any less intimidating. Nathan's footsteps cause the wood to creak as he finally approaches the edge. “Let's get this over with.” 

He's just about to rise when he feels a firm hand on his back. He manages to lock eyes with Nathan before being shoved off the dock. He doesn't even have time to shout before he's submerged. Every part of him is wide awake now, coffee doesn't have shit on this. 

He resurfaces just as Nathan seems to leap off the dock with a splash. Pickles splashes him as soon as he emerges from the water, having the nerve to look unphased. 

“Fuckin douchebag!” he curses as Nathan just shrugs him off. 

“You were taking too long.” He says blankly. Pickles shoves more water his way before looking back at the dock where Skwisgaar remains, squatting on the edge with a hand covering his mouth as he laughs at the both of them. 

“Alright get in here.” Pickles orders, he admits he seems to have adjusted. It's still cold- like way too fucking cold- but it's not awful he supposes.

“I thinks I'm goods on second thought.” 

He fucking knew it. 

His insult goes unheard however as Nathan simply grabs Skwisgaar by the ankle and yanks the blond off the dock and drags him under with him. Skwisgaar bursts from the water and practically leaps back onto the dock with a curse. Pickles can't remember the last time he saw the blond run anywhere but God damn is he fast in making his way back to their rented cabin. 

“Told ya he was fuckin with us.” He states smugly but Nathan is really good at taking the fun out being right. “Get me outta here.” He pulls himself onto the dock and quickly discards the soaking robe. The air doesn't feel cold anymore. Nathan's up in a matter of seconds, despite being the only one with a dry robe he decides to go without, instead offering it to the redhead. “Was Skwis always that fast?” 

“When he wants to be.” Nathan replies. “I'd hope so with those fucking legs.” 

“They're good legs.” 

The two of them share a comfortable moment before heading back to the cabin. Pickles can make out Skwisgaar's sopping robe draped over the deck railing and spots the blond relaxing in the hot tub. 

“How ya feelin? Amazin and all that shit, right?” He taunts as he approaches the tub. Skwisgaar's glare is normally as cold as the lake was but his bright red cheeks undermines the intimidating. “Don't be a brat.” He swings his legs over and sinks into the warm water of the hot tub. He didn't know if he bought into the whole god thing (at least the Christian one) but he had to admit this felt heavenly. 

“You not joinings?” Skwisgaar asks as the sliding door squeaks open. 

“Coffee first.” Nathan grunts. 

“That didn't wake yer ass up?! I’m fuckin wired!” He exclaims. “Skwisgaar sprinted, dude! He was like a damn cat.” Nathan doesn't respond, just heads inside, leaving the two of them alone. “Yer a dick, by the way.” 

“Ja ja I knows.” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes but gives him a smirk. “Want mes to make its up to you?” Pickles raises a brow as the blond moves closer till he's in front of him. “Wanna see how longs I can holds my breath?” 

“Oh fuck ya, dood.” 

#my shit #sknickles #snickles #we gotta agree on a name #again this shit aint edited #im having fun though #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Ooh I’m torn but 1 simply because I was rewatching Rocky and the thought of Jane the boxer sounds too good to pass up

Boxer AU with a twist! I know nothing about boxing except that it is fun to watch! I am shaming my army boxer grandfather right now, but here we go.

“Listen to me,” Barry Frost starts the conversation like a father, cutting the engine of his Buick and turning to Maura with a large hand to her shoulder. It’s a scorcher outside, and turning off the car means turning off the air conditioning, which Maura regrets almost as much as the kind look in his brown eyes. The worried look. “I know the elbow’s set you back, and we’re graspin’ at straws here.” 

“So you’ve brought me to the one gym in Boston to which I’ve vowed never to return? By tricking me into it? You can’t just tell me we’re going to Hannah Grisham’s office. She’s one of the best physical therapists on the eastern seaboard, Barry. You don’t dangle a carrot like that in front of a fellow doctor. Especially when its a lie.”

“I’m sorry, but desperate times, Maura. The scans are clear - the inflammation is pretty much gone, the pain is…”

“Psychosomatic,” Maura admits, possibly for the first time. She leans said elbow on the windowsill and lets her gaze drift to the bright blue sky above them. She thinks of the missed punch that hyperextended the elbow, which handed her her first loss. 

She got hurt and she lost the fight.

The line from point A, failure, to point B, the mental block preventing her from getting back in the ring, seems clear now. Repetitive hyperextension trauma has been with her since she’d abandoned her medical practice to fight full time. Perhaps it makes sense that such a banal boxer’s reality would be the thing to undo her. 

“I was gonna say elusive, hard to pin down, but yeah,” Frost says quietly. He rubs his chest, hand in a circle against the ribbed tank under his cream-colored guayabera, an unconscious thinking habit he’s had since Maura’s known him. “It sure as hell is eluding me.”

“But you’re my trainer. Why do I have to be… here?” Maura succumbs to a wave of petulance. She knows why she’s here. She just hates that here is the best place to get her… what does Barry call it? Mojo? To get her mojo back.

“Because I’m stumped, Doctor Isles,” he confesses. “I’m stumped and maybe a fresh pair of eyes’ll help us get you back into fighting shape.”

“Jane’s eyes are not fresh,” Maura, now drowning in waves of childish defiance, breathes. That’s all she can do, because she’s not sure she wants to be an adult about this. She’s not sure she wants to be friendly, even if… christ. Even if Jane might be the best thing for her at the moment. “Jane’s eyes are the opposite of fresh.”

“Might as well be, for how long you’ve iced each other out,” Barry grumbles. “I got you a session. She agreed to clear the gym for you. I’ll even circle the block, or go get a drink or somethin’, so you two can hash it out in private. But this is a big ask of her, after all the shit you two went through. I owe her big. I’d at least like to get something out of it.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me before asking for this favor?” Maura counters.

Barry laughs. “I knew you woulda said ‘hell no.’ C’mon. Let’s get this over with.” He steps out of the car with one last smack to her shoulder, and she shakes her head. He’s right. She would have definitely said hell no. But the only thing she wants less than seeing Jane again is losing her career.

So she steps out into the oppressive July sun and approaches the storefront of North End Boxing with trepidation.

“Hey Jane!” Barry shouts into the gym space, leading Maura in. 

Maura adjusts her duffel higher on her shoulder, taking in her surroundings. The ring sits in the middle of the floor plan, Jane’s crown jewel- some things never change. There is some updated strength training equipment in the back, and the bags to the left side boast some replacements. The treadmills and rowing machines mock her from her right, conjuring up times Jane punished her with cardio before sparring. “I shouldn’t be here,” Maura whispers to Barry.

“The hell you don’t,” Barry counters. “You used to run this place.”

“The Rizzolis have always run this place,” Maura says. She nods to the giant banner of Frankie Rizzoli, Junior holding up a championship belt with a shiner and an exhausted smile on his face. Action posters of Jane in title matches, just as victorious, twice as vicious, hang on the back wall on either side of a trophy case. That trophy case also contains a framed, signed picture of their father delivering the knockout blow to an opponent already halfway to his knees.

Jane herself comes from around the corner where the private owners’ area. “Been a long time, Frost,” she says. Her face is still handsome. Even more so when she smirks at him and shows her perfect teeth. She’s got her usual training look on: black Nike sports bra, black running shorts with compression leggings sewn in. There is one glaring difference: she wears white training Nikes, instead of her high ankle boxing shoes. The stretch of Jane’s crew socks over her too-thin legs, halfway to her calves, has always captivated Maura, but this time it’s out of place. 

Jane catches her staring. “You’re boxin’ today, not me,” she says, reading Maura’s mind. She holds one foot out to put her shoe on display. 

“No one’s boxing, not yet,” Maura refuses to smile. Jane’s effervescence hasn’t faltered, and it shines despite the darkness of her features. 

“Maura-” Frost tries.

“No no, she’s right. You got her in the door, but she’s gotta wanna be here if this little plan is gonna work,” Jane crosses her arms. Maura detests the challenge leveled at her in Jane’s brown eyes, though her belly flips when she glowers right back. Barry stands to the side of them with a hesitant little half-grin, like he doesn’t quite know what to offer to the conversation. 

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “She’s not wrong, Maura. Work the pain out on her. Punish her,” he motions toward Jane.

“That’s not the temptation you think it is, Barry,” Maura tells him. 

“Yeah, she already did all that,” Jane teases. “A year ago.”

That sours Maura’s mood again. “You know what? Maybe a little sparring would do me some good,” she responds. She gets close, fingers still tight against the strap of her bag, and even though she has to look up at Jane, it’s still one of defiance. 

“Frost? Get out,” barks Jane. 

“Jane, I drove Maura here. She’s-”

“You can go,” sighs Maura. She walks over to the ring and sets her bag down, rolling her neck. It’s the first stretch that signals the beginning of an entire routine and Barry looks excited enough to wet himself. 

“You got it. There’s a salami sandwich over at Graziano’s that’s callin’ my name. You just text me when you need me to come get you, a’right?” He says with his hand already on the front door, whole demeanor altered. “Have a good workout.”

He leaves the two women alone, and they’ve already begun to pace around each other in routine. Maura ties her honey hair up in a pony tail, unzips her windbreaker meant more to guard her fair skin from the sun than to keep her warm. When she straightens up, Jane already holds a jump rope in her hand, outstretched towards Maura.

Maura narrows her gaze again. “Where’s the other one?”

“This is your workout, not mine,” Jane says. “I already got cardio in. At five. This mornin’. Like I always do - I didn’t think you’d forget.”

Maura breaks the icy exterior for just a moment of whining. She might even stamp her foot. She hates the rope. “I didn’t forget, but you know how I feel about jumping rope and so you should have saved yours to do with me in miserable solidarity.”

Jane guffaws, her belly laugh deep and booming. Maura rubs her lips together so she doesn’t join in. “I can’t argue with that except that Frost didn’t call me until like nine.”

“Meaning Frankie had already worked you out and served you your breakfast of raw eggs,” Maura gags for show.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Jane tells her with a tinge of red on her cheeks. “Now stop stallin.” 

Maura snatches the rope with disdain and drops it on the floor while she runs through her stretches. She sits and pulls one foot against the opposite thigh, leaning forward to get a nice, strong tug in her calves. She runs through it for both legs, and then stands to do some hip rotations, and Jane watches quietly. “What?” Maura asks to break the silence.

“Legs feel good?” Jane answers, sort of. She leans one elbow on the closest ring post and stares at the legs in question. 

Probably Jane’s favorite part of her, if Maura had to guess. Jane had always praised Maura’s footwork, but with the way Jane looks at her legs now, in skin tight yoga leggings, she’s not thinking about footwork. She’s thinking about they feel wrapped around her waist, the only clothes on either athlete the layer of sweat built up from a workout between the sheets.

And now, Maura’s thinking about it. She starts with the rope just to send all that noxious sexual energy somewhere. “Legs feel fine,” she says as she starts slow, reacquainting herself with the whistle of the rope, with the jumpstart of her heart when her feet start to dance.

There is art in the torture, she’ll concede. 

“Legs’ve always been fine, legs’ve never been the problem.” Maura likes how the rope makes her normally verbose speech choppy and efficient. She likes how it makes her sound like Jane. 

“It’s the elbow,” Jane says that part for her. “I’ve dealt with it before. The dead arm is fuckin’ demoralizin’.” She talks while she backs away from Maura, and goes to the lockers toward the back of the gym. She pulls out a pair of white pads and slams the locker shut. “You bring your own gloves?”

“Of course,” Maura calls out, and the volume of it burns her lungs. Jane is annoying for having made her do it. 

“Well leave ‘em in your bag. You’re usin’ some of mine,” Jane says, and she grabs those from another cubby area.

“I like my gloves,” Maura huffs. “I want my gloves.”

“Too damn bad. They’re all wrapped up in your psychobabble bullshit right now,” Jane argues. She drops the gloves on the side of the ring and adjusts the pads until they’ll fit just right. 

Maura wants to snark back but she catches sight of Jane’s hands. Those capable, deadly hands, with a scar in the middle of each one. They didn’t talk about the obsessed fan, about Hoyt, before they got together, when Frank Senior was training both Jane and Maura. They didn’t talk about him after, either, when they dominated their respective classes. They didn’t even talk about him following the blow to the head that ended Jane’s career, when they said awful things to each other and devolved into an ugly type of resentment.

And now, they haven’t talked at all since Jane drank herself into a stupor and climbed drunk into a car with her brother. They haven’t talked since Maura walked out with statistics about concussions and alcohol on her lips, love mysteriously absent. A year ago. “Psychosomatic,” Maura corrects weakly, her own voice quiet in the face of the flood of memory washing over her. 

Soon enough, Jane’s scarred hands disappear in to the curved focus pads. “You got two more minutes,” says Jane, busy again with preparation.

“We’re doing padwork already?” Maura asks.

“Yeah,” Jane says. She thumps the pads together and rolls her own neck. “You get all mixed up when you’re punchin’, accordin’ to Frost. So, while I would normally send you straight to the weight rack, punchin’ is the only way we’re gonna break you outta this.”

Maura is pleased with the words coming out of Jane’s mouth for the first time today. “Ok then,” she says. She wants nothing more than to throw fists at her ex. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

“Didn’t think so,” Jane says. She grins to let Maura know she’s seen the saucy glint in Maura’s eyes. “Ok, enough of that. Get some water and let’s go.”

Maura, thankful for the reprieve, drops the rope and throws her head back. She puts her hands on her hips, sweat already dripping from her neck to her chest, already staining the front and back of her gray tank. After she squeezes water into her mouth from her bottle, she realizes Jane is studying. She licks her lips just to be a tease.

Whether consciously or not, Jane bites her own lip. 

“You know I’ve never been fond of Everlast,” Maura grumbles like she can’t be pleased when she grabs the gloves waiting for her.

“How can you be a boxer and not like Everlast? You have never made sense, Princess,” Jane tells her, holding up the pads.

“It’s the limited weight-”

“Aht! Save it,” Jane interrupts. “I don’t wanna argue before you even get started. Now c’mon. Show me what you got.”

Maura takes a deep, eyes-closed kind of breath to clear her mind. Instead, she smells Jane, lavender perfume and gym equipment. Her mind races. 

“Quit overthinkin’ it,” Jane goads. “Hit me.”

Maura throws her first punch. She barely registers that she does it, but the pad sings and Jane whistles. “You asked,” Maura says.

“And you delivered,” Jane replies. She takes Maura’s slow combos with some grace. “But stop pussyfootin’ around. It’s me. You know I can take it.”

“I don’t want to reinjure myself, Jane,” Maura chides, and continues her methodical warmup.

“Bullshit. Timid and tender is what got you here. Time to get a little messy. A little mean,” Jane blocks, finding the rhythm of Maura’s work quickly. 

“That’s your style,” Maura responds. 

“So? Try it on,” Jane says. Each hit on the pad, Jane catching them dead center, reminds Maura how lucky she is she never had to fight Jane. It’d be the hardest fight of her life. Jane knows it, too, which makes her insufferable. “Won’t kill ya.”

“It just might,” Maura quips, but she adds a little more power. Imagines being Jane, controlling Jane’s arms, what that would feel like. The dissociation lessens the tingle in her elbow and she slips into a 1, 2, 3 combo. Huh. “Faster,” she demands.

“Been awhile since you said that to me,” Jane chuckles, winking when Maura glances up at her. 

Maura speeds up, glancing a blow on Jane’s forearm as a warning shot, but she smirks. “And it’ll be a lot longer yet,” she says, “especially in that context.”

“But not never again, huh?” Jane gives her that pretty boy smile that she knows is Maura’s weakness. Well, one of them. Another is when she talks shop. “Remind me to work in some dumbbell shadowboxing next time. Get your speed back up.”

“Am I telegraphing the hook?” Maura asks.

“Little bit,” Jane answers. “But maybe I’m just good at reading your body.”

That pesters Maura. The innuendo is unprovoked, more pointed. “Watch yourself,” she growls. She punches harder.

“I’ve been takin’ care of myself in the time you’ve been away. After you bailed,” Jane says. “You ever need to blow off some steam, you know, the old fashioned way, I’m around.” Maura lands a vicious jab from which Jane should recoil, given its force. Jane doesn’t. She leans instead, steps forward. “That was never the problem between us, huh?”

“You didn’t hear me say ‘watch it?’”

Jane continues. “Not a drop to drink in a year. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you,” she leads. “Who could?”

“You’d need… a lot more than sobriety,” Maura cuts. 

Jane doesn’t seem to mind. “I thought about you so much, I watched your last fight. Gotta tell ya, you stank it up. No guts in that performance.” Maura’s pulse pounds in her temple, her body so worked up that she didn’t realize how fast she’s been fighting. Jane’s faster, though. “No speed, either,” Jane says, and she proves it by smacking Maura in the face with one of the pads. 

Maura’s right hand thunders in from the side, already in motion before Jane could even finish the taunt. Glove connects with Jane’s cheek, and another blow explodes against her ribs just before Maura lands the next face punch that flattens Jane on her back. 

“Jane!” Maura calls out when the anger dissipates with the sickening thwack of Jane’s body on the hard floor. She tosses her gloves off and straddles Jane’s torso, stabilizing Jane’s head between her hands.

Jane smirks, however, gaze alight and alert. “For someone who was so worried about my concussion, you sure got no qualms about a blow to the head.”

“You provoked-! You provoked me on purpose,” Maura realizes mid-utterance. “From the gloves to the comment about the guts.” She stills holds Jane’s face, and of their own accord, her thumbs stroke the crow’s feet just starting to come in around Jane’s eyes. 

“Any pain?” Jane presses, cocky as ever.

Maura blinks, and then gasps. “No. None.”

“Hatin’ me’s a good look on you,” Jane tells her, nodding to Maura’s figure. “It’s pretty good for your fightin’, too, apparently.”

“Do you think you can get me to feel like this all the time?” Maura asks, serious.

“Pissed off? Murderous? I think we’ve established I’m pretty good at that,” says Jane. 

“No. Well, maybe. Pain-free,” Maura pleads.

“No guarantees,” Jane replies. She puts a hand on Maura’s thigh and pats softly. Maura lets her. “But if you wanna try it, wanna try fightin’ pissed, this is the gym for you.”

Maura chuckles and is shocked to find that it’s wet, that she’s crying. “I’ll say.”

“Missed you, kid,” Jane tells her. Her voice trembles with its own wave of emotion, but her eyes stay dry. Maura’s thumb trails to Jane’s lower lip, and rubs the plumpest part of it.

“Is this going to work? Are we going to kill each other? Are you going to resent me for doing what you can’t?” Maura asks, one after the other. 

“Don’t tell anyone that works here,” Jane begins with a theatrical whisper, “but takin’ care of myself might include seein’ a shrink. From time to time. And I think that trainin’ you would be the honor of my life.” Jane finishes. Maura hiccups with new tears. And the broadest smile she’s sported in weeks. “So I’ll do it for free - on one condition.”

“For free, hmm?” Maura asks, buys herself some time to wipe her face, “what’s the condition?”

“You go on a date with me,” Jane says with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Maura, assured of Jane’s well-being, smacks her shoulder. 

“One date. C’mon,” Jane pleads. “Anywhere you wanna go.”

Maura sighs. “Just one? After that I don’t have to go on any more?”

“Well, after one you’re gonna wanna go on a lot more, but sure, I’ll keep my word. One date,” Jane answers.

“Then we go to Maison de la Mer,” Maura asserts. Jane glowers. “And you eat what I order for you, and then we never speak of it ever again.”

“Really? The fancy French place with the plate of oysters that costs a rent payment?” Jane gripes, but then she props herself up on her elbows. “Y’know what? Deal. Now let’s seal it with a kiss.”

Maura scoffs and pushes her back down before getting up. “You’re intolerable.”

“Whatever. Still pickin’ you up at seven tomorrow,” Jane sits up while Maura throws her things in her bag.

“It takes weeks to get a reservation,” says Maura as she zips and tosses it on her shoulder.

“I know a guy who knows a guy. Who would love a Frankie Rizzoli, Junior autograph. You don’t think I called that in as soon as I knew you were comin’?” Jane retorts.

Maura’s jaw drops for a split second, and then she throws the towel she’d just used to wipe her face at Jane’s. “In. tolerable,” she repeats.

“And I better see your ass here at four thirty tomorrow morning!” Jane yells, and Maura chuckles quietly now that she knows her face can’t be seen. She pushes out into the rippling heat without another word, and pulls her phone out to call Barry. She can’t believe she’s looking forward to getting her ass kicked in the morning. By Jane fucking Rizzoli.

#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #otp prompts march 2023 #this is so damn long I am sorry #it slipped so far away that I could barely remember what I was supposed to be doing 😂

[soulofgenocide]

Feathery Decree

The threaded Soul was sitting in his front garden, digging a new hole for a batch of lilies that he'd bought now that it was warming up again. If he were in his human form perhaps this would look nice, but a thread monster with two glowing white eyes wearing a straw hat looked more bizarre than anything. He only looked up from his little flower friends when he heard the loud sound of wings flapping, and a rather vile but yet also familiar scent filling his.. nose even though this form doesn't have one.

"My oh my Saradiel, I never thought I'd see you again my friend, how long were you caged this time?"

Genocide brushed the dirt off of himself as the divine landed in front of him with a bit of a plop, clearly a bit rusty as he folded in his wings like a newborn. Saradiel was most certainly an Angel, but he was a 'Broken' and thus Genocide would never judge him for his origins, after all it is a forced change. Over the years the Broken had changed with his many returns to the cage, once having full long blond hair and bright blue eyes just to now have short black hair and a rather dull red looking back at Genocide, though with a smile on his face.

"Three years, after my last little stunt it was decided I should likely never be used again, but then a job of importance and great danger appeared."

The Angel spoke with a very deep voice, adjusting the ridiculous white uniform he had been given before being sent out by Heaven, wanting so badly to rip it off. It fit on him like a childs tee on a giant.

"I wonder what that may be."

"What you did in Hell is already fucking everywhere above, at least amongst the ones who matter, rumor is you'll come to Heaven next. Higher ups didn't like that idea, not one bit, so they pulled me out to send you a message. You're to come to Heaven only by request, any sudden visit and they'll declare you an enemy of Heaven, and send those higher than simple fodder to deal with you."

Truthfully that was a shock to Genocide, sure they were on bad terms always because of their past and unearned pride, but to make him into an enemy openly? Michael was the one who dealt with Genocide, gave him scoldings and kept everyone at peace so for this order to be passed down, it was truly from above him.

"A war with Heaven, Cut said they'd be too much of a pussy but to think they actually had the balls to make a stand against me. Did they forget what happened last time?"

"I don't know what their play is since I feel like they should be sucking on the left & right to make sure the peace stands. Michael seemed to agree even though he didn't speak the words, I could tell the look on his face was one of great concern. They were waking up a lot of Broken, Genocide, like more than I've ever seen before and even the truly old ones."

"Of course, why risk their perfect little pigeons when they can use the soldiers with the souls they twisted and broke worse than Hell ever could accomplish. They put a hit on my human life, sent one of their own to make sure it was done, sent them when my city was falling to kill me, and now.. their arrogance never ends."

"What do you want me to tell them?"

"I don't want you to tell them shit, don't go back to the goddamn cage they'll throw you in since you've served your purpose. However, word does need to reach their ears so I'll give you a Curler to sneak in. Once you've done your job give it a little squeeze, you'll be back here in no time, maybe I'll even let you have one of the nicer apartments.''

"Not even a house? So cruel friend. So, what is the word you speak of?"

"Become good little birds, and follow my request. Otherwise the next time I step foot in Heaven, and I will, what I did twenty years ago will look like an infant's acts."

Saradiel nodded to the Soul, who then turned back to return to his flowers, an aura of bloodlust seeping from his body as the thought stirred in his mind.

War.

Blood.

Genocide.

The Soul let out an almost erotic sigh as he dreamed of the ecstasy.

#ic #main verse #hail of blood

[mrmidnightblog]

The Demon bride

Chapter 1: Catfishing It was a cold November evening, snow falling and grazing the ground as the black Charger drove down the road. The sound of the engine roaring; the driver, a man named Garth Foxworthy, was heading off. Were to, well, for Garth, it was the first date he's had in the last five years. He grunted, adjusting his collar, He wasn't used to wearing the button-up flannel shirt, but he wanted to look his best. "Just relax, Garth; just because you haven't been out on a date doesn't mean you need to over think it." He grunted while looking at the rear view mirror. His black hair is sticking up slightly; even with the haircut, he still looks like he just got out of bed. Though admittedly, he still looked better than the rat nest he had before. He took a second to check his breath. "Could use a few tic tacs." He muttered, reaching over his center compartment. While looking over it. His mind raced as he took another turn going down the dirt road. "Frick-en GPS," Garth grumbled while looking at the device, it said he was on the right path, but passing by the cornfield, he felt like he was going to end up dealing with he who walks behind the Row. He shook his head. "Come on, don't chicken out. You're at least going out to meet a girl, and you haven't done something like this since Tamera." He rubbed his eyes, damning those contacts, wishing he just came in wearing his glasses, but tonight, he wanted to impress Sarah. A cute girl who liked country music and long walks in the fields,  Sarah Green, the girl's tinder profile read, was five-foot-six, with blonde hair, with bright blue eyes. Nothing seemed off about her too much. Heck, he was most shocked that she swiped right on him. Garth was happy that she was even willing to go on a date with him to the movies, So Garth grunted, imagining how it would go. They probably grab some drinks get something to eat, and go out for the film, and whatever happens after that, well, that was all for fate to decide. Take the next left, and you will have arrived at your destination, the synthetic voice spoke as Garth realized it; he quickly turned the wheel and found himself going up the dirt driveway. "I'm here; well, better let her know." He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing her number, his fingers rapidly typing 937-555-0669. The phone's bluetooth connection to his car as he listened to the ringing—long pauses as he waited there. The phone rang once. Then a second time. Then the third time, that was when Sarah answered, her voice quickly spoke, "Hey there, Garthy." The sugary sound of her voice as she spoke to him, his heart raced fast, as he answered without hesitation, "Hey Sarah, I just got over to your place; I just noticed the lights weren't on; you ok in there?" He prayed to God. Sarah hadn't somehow forgotten their date. "No, I haven't. I'm just finishing getting dressed; come on up to the door; I left it unlocked just for you. No worries, Garthy." She let out a long draw on Garth as he gulped more, unable to believe his luck that the girl was this into him. Garth popped right out of the car, his hand slamming it behind him as he looked around. The sound of crickets chirping away as he stood there looking towards the house. The first thing he found about the place was that it looked close to falling apart. “What the?” He muttered, getting a better look at it. The place was more like a dilapidated shed over a house. Maybe at the most, a hunting lodge. Garth wasn’t sure what to make of the home. The only thing he knew was the place was not home. “Fuck, You’ve got to be shitting me.” He felt angry at himself for even falling for this, “No, Maybe I just put in the wrong address.” He reached over, pulled out her number quickly called her. Sarah promptly answered him, not even a moment's hesitation as he looked around, finding the place beginning to get quiet. “Hey there, Garthy, is something wrong?” Sarah said, speaking with that hushed tone as if she was ready for more, “Hey, I think I got the wrong address; you said you lived at 756 Morn star road, right?” He asked, more curious than ever as he looked around. The way the corn swayed across the road was setting off red flags for him. “No, that’s the right spot; I see you outside my window; just wait for me there, Garthy,” Sarah said, her voice sounding a little off as he listened into it as if she was growing impatient. “You know Sarah, maybe I should get going, I mean, It’s getting late, and I’m sure we’re just going to miss the movie and all that so—” Before Garth could finish his sentence, he suddenly found himself emersed in pure Darkness. His head twisted and turned, trying to scream, yet all that came out was a muffled yell. “Come on, get him inside.” One of the voices called out. Garth tried breaking free and doing something as he struggled. However, one had begun binding his hands down behind his back. Another one grabbed his legs; whoever they were was strong as they gripped him tightly. “Heavy fucker, Can’t wait till we get rid of him and get our wish Right Ariel!” A man who a gruff voice spoke out his chuckle, bringing no comfort to Garth as he said, “Get rid of. What do you mean by that?” Though his captives could barely hear him as he tried breaking free. Feeling his hands digging into the ropes, he panicked, scared about what had happened. He wanted to scream for help. But at this point, it was no use. So far as Garth knew, he was just fucked over six ways to Sunday. Garth felt dragged away. He could hear a door closing behind him. Pushing him down, Garth felt his back pushing into the wall—a hard nail going into his back. He tried moving around, getting more comfortable, but one of the strangers pushed him back into place, forcing that Nail to press harder against him. “What the hell? What do you want.” He grunted out though still none of them could hear him as they chuckled, “Are we nearly ready, Ariel?” “Not yet; just have to get a few things down, and soon we’ll be ready.” That voice, he recognized it, more it was Sarah, “Sarah? Sarah, what the hell are you doing?” “Will someone take off the bag? I’m not in the mood to hear his muffling.” Sarah, or Ariel, whatever her name was, spoke out, clearly annoyed, as Garth could feel the sack being ripped off his head. The room was dark, only lit with candles spread across the room; the most he could see was the brick walls and dirt floors. Three people were standing around. One of them was a bold man wearing heavy-framed glasses, a consistent pissed-off look on his face as he pushed his glasses up, wearing all black and a pair of leather gloves. The other man, off to the side, was a leaner, button-up shirt who popped his neck. The smallest of the group as he looked over at Garth, giving him a wave. Garth looked at him, confused. What was he supposed to do, wave back? He just looked back over. “So Ariel, this is the guy, huh? He doesn’t seem much.” The smallest said, his voice sounding more like a whiner as he shook his head. Garth couldn’t help thinking the guy looked like he wasn’t even seventy pounds when wet. “Son just got to get everything set up. It’s our only chance even to get this done right. I’m not letting you idiots screw this up for me.” Garth looked over to the woman's voice, and there he saw her, Ariel, at least who the others saw; now Ariel looked somewhat like Sarah's picture. That's if you ran Ariel’s picture through a whole bunch of filters and hinted with photoshop to make her smaller, more petite, cause she was a very hefty woman, as she is wide. Not someone Garth might have looked at twice on the streets. She stood there wearing a black robe that reminded him of a moo moo as she lit a few more candles. “Oh, Garthy, it’s so nice to meet you.” She spoke with a broad smile, and It was there. Garth cringed, somehow looking like her; Garth admitted it wasn’t as lovely as before, selfish, sure. Maybe he was a little judgmental, but given the situation, he was right; he felt he had some right to judge her just a little bit. “Well, nice to meet you, Sarah, or Ariel, whatever your name is. Would you mind letting me go? I won’t call the cops on you guys.” He wished he had his phone, but Garth had dropped it when they kidnapped him, so it was most likely lying around his car. Ariel cupped her fingers together like she was carefully thinking about what she would do. As she popped her mouth and said, “Yeah, no, not going to happen; we’ve been waiting for this long. Not every day we get a full-blood moon, and this is our shot.” She reached over, beginning to move the candles around, pushing them into a symbol one Garth didn’t recognize as he looked at it for a minute, “Your shot for what, kidnapping and catfishing some guy? Like seriously, not cool there.” “Well, It was easier for me to get you over here by pretending to be some beach blond bimbo,” Ariel said, the sneer in her voice as she looked at him, “Fair enough, though. I figured you’d want your next meal or something; instead of kidnapping, I thought fat people were meant to be jolly?” Garth felt the urge to go right under the belt for this one. Ariel looked at him, just staring daggers into his eyes for this response as she responded, “You know, you were only chosen from random chance, but after this, I will enjoy sacrificing you to satan.” Garth shook his head while he looked back, “You’re going to sacrifice me to Satan; it’s not the best date I’ve gone, for so not my top ten.” “Please, like someone like you had managed to get a date, and by the way, you are so not six-foot-one.” “At least I didn’t photoshop my picture, and by the way, I’m five-eleven. So I’m close.” Garth grunted; he wasn’t sure if he was more angry or scared of being in such a situation but by golly, was he going not just lay around and let them do whatever they were planning? “Ok, guys, we’re going to start this a little early; bring in the virgin!” “Hey, I am not a virgin!” Garth said clearly while the others looked at him; they shrugged as they reached over, pulling him from the wall and dragging him around in the middle of the wall; Garth tried wiggling around, making it more complex than them. The big guy growled, “Hey, quit squirming; we’ll make it much rougher for you.” “Oh, come on, little john, what is it you want so much that you are willing to sacrifice me.” “Names, Jack, and We’re sacrificing you to Satan, the light bringer, the great destroyer, and if we do, we will be given our greatest desires what we want. That’s where you will be used for.” “Sacrificing me for Jack shit, now how about you let me go.” Garth rolled his eyes, clearly not in a good mood about it, so what do you three want anyway? I mean, if you're going to be murdering me, might as well tell me what I’m dying for.” The three of them looked at him, blinking for a good minute; honestly, they seemed more surprised by his reaction, while the smaller one on the side looked back to the other two, quickly saying, “You know I was expecting him to be more screaming or begging for mercy?” Jack nodded in agreement while seeming more confused. “Well, not much to do for begging for my life; I’m kind of pissed I somehow ended up in the situation; heck, most likely, I’m in shock,” Garth muttered, clearly annoyed by the matter though Ariel moved in spreading her hands, “Enough, whatever it is we want, it doesn't matter; what matters is that we just get this ritual finished, and we summon Satan so that we can get what we want, alright!” She hesitated for a minute. As she looked at him “Miles, cover his mouth. I don’t want the meal to interrupt the ceremony, got it.” She looked at Garth with that hideous smile as it was clear she was missing her front tooth. Miles raised a hand and said, “With what? I mean, what can we do it with.” “Miles, did you forget the duck tape?” Ariel said, finding herself annoyed with the two as if she wished she’d done it herself instead of relying on these two. “Now 'cause Jack there forgets shit!” Though quickly, Garth found his mouth covered with the rag as his voice muffled. Ariel sighed in relief, “Thank Satan's tit, and we shut him up.” She turned, watching the other two pulling them back, watching them closely to ensure they didn’t screw this up. “Alright, just spread his arms and legs back, like the Leonardo de Vinci man.” The two nodded, Jack, giving Ariel a thumbs up. Who Nodded with much chagrin. The stale expression didn’t give much as she jiggled over to the center of the room. “Tonight, on this dark hour. We lay this soul out for the dark one, the one who was once the Lightbringer, now the dark ruler of our world. We follow your will and bring forth a virgin! So that way may present him forth and damn him so that we may have our wishes come true.” Ariel stood loudly, her hand raising in the air as she held the twisted dragger in her left hand. She circled as her two goons were chanting in what might have been Latin, but the way they mumbled it, Garth wasn’t sure. In truth, Garth might have imagined it was not very comfortable. He lay there for a good minute listening to the chanting continued. Their unison continued getting louder as they spoke the Latin words; he looked around, trying to break free, but one thing was for sure Jack might have known shit; he also learned how to tie a knot cause he was stuck there. It was then he started seeing it. Sparks behind Ariel, the way it began moving into a circle. Ariel began calling out, “We call upon Satan, we renounce The name of God and his teaching, grant us our desire, we give you this mortal soul, and so that we may appease you, the great ruler of the inferno, on this night of the blood moon!” The passion in Ariel’s voice as she raised her hand. Her body jiggled around like a bowl full of Jelly, and Garth wanted to gag watching it and wondering how such a person tricked him. Till remember, it was because of Photoshop. However, the sparks behind her began getting wider, opening up as he could see within them. Inside was Darkness, not the kind they were surrounded in. He somehow felt the seriousness of the situation. This Darkness was wrong, like a near-endless abyss where no light could enter. It stood out like nothing before. This scared Garth more than anything. He let out a muffled scream, his mouth still gagged as he tried to break free; his deep primal instincts made him want to run from the sight of this portal. The clowns had done nothing, but somehow the deep abyss within that portal made him take it seriously, his heart pounding, racing like a train driving through as he watched in utmost horror. He wasn’t even sure what was within that thing, but whatever it was. He didn’t trust it. “Ariel, it's opening; it's working!” The smaller one, Miles, spoke while jumping up and down in excitement, while Ariel smiled, “The book says we have to ask for what we desire, then make the sacrifice, now ask! We don’t have much time!” Jack knows shit, raised his head, and called out, “I want a promotion; I’m sick of being stuck at the bottom; I want to rise on the corporate ladder and run the company! Sick of them bastards looking over me, picking some ass kisser,” Jack know shit spoke more angrily, His hands balling into fists as he looked annoyed, as Garth felt a little bad for the guy, though, and shook his head off at that. Little Miles was next, popping right in as he called out, “I want to be big; I’m sick of being the small guy; I want to grow muscles so no one can fuck with me!”  Little Miles began to strike an entire post, trying to look masculine, but Garth rolled his eyes in annoyance. It seemed utterly predictable. Yet Garth’s eyes shot over to Ariel, the group's apparent ringleader, and this made him wonder: What does she want? I mean, she kidnapped me? What does she want so badly that she’s willing to kill? Ariel looked towards the abyss, the wicked grin plastered over her face as she raised her hands, asking the circle into the black abyss; no, it sounded like a demand, something she felt she was entitled to. “I want you to make me beautiful, and I want you to make me the most desirable woman around the world, So I might be able to find my knight in shining armor.” She hugged herself, the dagger pressing against her as she looked back at Garth, “Now, it’s time for the Virgin sacrifice; now, great beast, great Lucifer, we present a virgin! One that you may have for this fine hour to feast on the soul with Judas and Brutus!” She started climbing onto Garth, who let out a groan; if Garth could, he’d have pushed her off him cause this woman was crushing the very life out of him. Ariel didn’t need the dagger, and she could have crushed him. There was a long pause as they heard something coming from the abyss. The prolonged laughter continued while Ariel looked over, “Great lord of Darkness. Is that you? Are you preparing to hand us what we desire?” Ariel spoke loudly, her hand fumbling with the dagger like she was close to dropping the damn thing as she watched over, mesmerized. However, the laughter only got louder, like whoever was on the other side was amused by the situation. “Lucifer?” Ariel spoke more shocked, while she looked at the portal, and for a brief moment, she saw what looked like a pair of hands grabbing the edge of the portal. Garth wasn’t sure what he saw as he lost his cool. His body was shaking, trying to break free; unlike these three, his desire to live seemed to be in complete control as he kicked around; even Ariel was caught off guard as she found herself falling off Garth. “No, not Lucifer; I’m afraid you messed up by not sacrificing a virgin.” Slowly something began pulling out of the dark void, and Garth wasn’t sure what he was saying. His mind seemed fuzzy like he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. “But we picked a virgin, and he’s a man who had never been a part of the craft; how can he not be a virgin?” This only made whatever this creature was laugh. “Foolish mortal,  one has touched magic though never knew about it; he is not a virgin by that stance at all, but also the definition of your language version of a virgin one who has laid with another. He’s not even a virgin by that counts either.” Ariel's eyes widened as she looked back down at Garth, who, if he wasn’t pissing himself in fright trying to escape and get away from whatever was coming out of the portal, might have had a smug grin on his face. “But, you, my dear, are a virgin. You have also made a mistake by summoning me. Now it's time for the three of you to pay the piper.” The growl grew louder while Garth screamed in shock. He didn’t know what was happening as he passed out from fright. -000- Garth Foxworthy grunted, his head pounding as he woke up outside his car. The crack of dawn, The sun pouring over the cornfield as he let out a long groan, “What happened?” He mumbled under his breath, trying to think about what had happened, his knee was killing him, and his shoulder wasn’t helping him as he pulled himself up. He looked down, seeing his phone on the ground, a crack in the corner as he let out a long sigh. “Was it a dream or… You know what, never mind, I’m just going home; I got work in a few hours.” Garth took a moment looking back, seeing the shed that he thought was Sarah's house, just utterly destroyed like it collapsed in on itself, as he wondered what had happened to it. Everything seemed so fuzzy as he shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to remember what happened last night.” He bounced into his car, a hard grunt as he began driving off, hoping to forget about this weird night. Little did he know this was only the beginning. Garth drove home, a nearly half-hour drive. He yawned; the sun hit his eyes as it raised slowly; Garth let out a long yawn while looking at his phone, a slight grunt while thinking about needing to replace it, and shook his head, “Probably going to need to save up for that, at least for now.” He hated the thought but knew it would seriously screw him and his budget. Looking back, he might have spent a good bit of cash on Sarah or Ariel, “I am such an idiot.” Garth would turn the radio on, playing country music, as he heard the song Brenda put your Bra on; the song caused him to smile as he headed back home. -000- Finally making it home, Garth let out a sigh heading inside; he didn’t bother locking his car up as he moved inside; he sighed, seeing the empty place. “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about anyone bugging me.” Garth headed to his room, imagining he might be able to get a couple hours of sleep, while he let out a loud yawn. The kind that was infectious to others that might have heard it. Garth shut the door behind him, as he shook his head, “Well at least tonights over with.” He started pulling his shirt off when he heard a feminine voice speak out. “Don’t get too comfortable there big boy, we’ve got some bussiness to discuss.”

#demon girl #demons #monster girl #catfishing #evil #satanic

[lonely-lost-soul]

Little Fox

(C!Fundy x Reader)

Request 12: Hey if you're making a request, do you do c!Fundy? If so, can I get a Fundy x half fox shapeshifter!reader where fundy finds an injured full fox!reader, and takes her home to patch her up without knowing that she's a shifter ówò? Context, the reader can shift into three forms: full fox, half and half(fox legs, tail, ears, fangs), and fully human. Thank you have a blessed day!!!

Requested By: Anonymous

Moving away from L’manburg or what was once L’manburg was one of the best decisions Fundy has ever made. Did it get lonely from time to time, sure, but at least he was finally at peace. He was away from his ghost of a father and away from the drama of everyone else fighting and the looming sense of death that lingered over everyone that lived in the once-prosperous nation. It was quiet and he was happy to be left alone, well, mostly alone. There was one exception, a snow-white fox that trotted around his house from time to time, curious (e/c) watching him with intent. He had always felt a connection to foxes considering he was part fox, he hated seeing them hurt or starving or treated with disrespect, so he kept them around. However the white fox didn’t seem to pay him any mind other than silently watching and wandering around his home, he started placing food out for the fox. This went on for a few months until one night something felt off. Fundy kept glancing out the window, almost like he was expecting to see someone but no one popped up until he remembered his little buddy. He didn’t know why it sent him so on edge, it was just a random arctic fox maybe it was the way the food was left untouched or the pull he felt to go the woods, but he grabbed his coat and stepped into the forest.

The first thing he noticed was the small animal prints littering the snow, there seemed to be some sort of scuffle. Worry entered his veins and his ears pressed flat against his head, he journeyed deeper into the forest and noticed little droplets of blood. Fundy adjusted his hat nervously and followed the blood droplets, crumpled on the ground in front of his feet was a blood-stained fox. The once pure white coat of the fox was stained with red splotches a big gash was torn from its side, Fundy felt nauseous. The wind seemed to blow against his exposed ears, almost urging him to pick up the fox and take it home. He reached out and picked the fox up in his arms and held it close, the wind blew again, his eyes widened a little in surprise, the wind seemed to whisper a thank you.

Back at the house he laid the fox down on his couch and began to patch up her wounds. Hopefully, she wouldn’t attack him in the morning, be too freaked out, he wrapped the bandages around the wound stopping the flow of blood. He just prayed his foxy friend would be alive come the morning light. Fundy flicked the lights off and went to sleep in his bedroom, even though all the windows were shut and locked tight he still felt that odd breeze tickle the tufts of his ears. ‘Take good care of her’ it seemed to whisper, his heart thudded in his chest as he snuggled under the covers. The morning sun streamed through his windows, blinding the hybrid slightly, he groaned loudly and sat up in bed. He ran his sharp nails through his hair tussling it a little bit, trying to calm the rat’s nest down. As snapped to consciousness fully when he noticed footsteps coming from his living room, very human-sounding footsteps. Fundy tensed and hopped out of bed storming into the room, a dagger in hand. He let out a startled shriek seeing a beautiful half-naked young woman standing in the middle of the room. However, he couldn’t even focus on that, he was more focused on the snow-white fox ears that sat atop her head, the fluffy tail behind her, and the fox-like legs.

She was like him.

“Fundy right?” She sent him a crooked smile, sharp fangs very visible, making him feel all types of things. “Names, (Y/n) and you saved my life last night.”

“You- Fox?! but- human-” His hands tangled in his orange hair mentally trying to come to terms with the fact that he had probably saved a forest spirit. “No shirt!” he sputtered feeling soft hands take his own, he noticed a smile on her lips, their eyes locked together,

“I’m a shifter. A pleasure to officially meet you.” He felt you squeeze his palms and he swallowed thickly,

“Shifter?”

He watched you nod tail swishing from side to side, you were very happy to be talking to him it seemed, Fundy felt oddly honored. “I have three forms! Full fox, half fox, and fully human,” You explained holding up three fingers on your hand. “Usually full fox is easier but as you can see,” You motioned to the bandages covering your chest, “it’s not without risks.”

“Hold the phone you’re telling me the fox I’ve been feeding-”

“Yup! That was me!” You giggled as his cheeks went red, “I appreciated it.”

“I gave you dog food! I’m so sorry, oh my god!” He sputtered out completely mortified by the situation. You let out a roaring laugh, it was very reminiscent of that of a fox but he supposed that, that made sense. He watched you dip your head and nuzzle underneath his chin, once again he felt his entire face burn red, your ears were so soft, the fur tickling his chin.

“It’s okay, I didn’t eat any of that. Just pretended.” You reassured lifting your head to once again meet his eyes. “Soooo...you gonna tell me your name? Or should I just call you handsome?” He felt the blush spread down onto his neck,

Oh no, she was so cute.

“Fundy! I’m Fundy.” He nodded more stiffly than he wanted too suddenly very aware of how close the both of them were to one another. You blinked after a few minutes peaking around his shoulder, oh shit was his tail wagging? A bright smile spread across your cheeks “Laugh it up okay! Not every day I get to have a cute fox girl nuzzle against me alright!” Your ears fell flat against your head, he watched pink spread across your cheeks, score.

“Cute?” You meekly whispered you pulled away a little to grab at your tail shyly, “Thank you.”

He was going to die, you were going to be the death of him.

After that first encounter, you, the real you, had become a staple of his life. You had moved with him a few days after showing your more human form to the hybrid. You knew how to cook which made him swoon, it tasted divine, he was tired of being alone. You made him feel like he still had hope, you were his family now even after only knowing you for such a short amount of time. There was an odd sort of bond the two of you had, he was happy to have someone understand him, on a level that no one has ever been able to before, especially not his father. Days rolled into weeks and weeks turned into months, it was about eight months in when Fundy finally confessed to you.

You’d spent the day away from home, in your full fox form, saying you needed to stretch your legs and Fundy let you go. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a mess all day worrying about your well-being all day, he barely could get anything done, so when he saw your white fur streak through the trees that night he knew you were home. He ran out onto the stones of the path and called out your name, he watched your ears twitch and turned towards him. He felt his tail begin wagging ecstatically and he could see yours begin to do the same, you charged headfirst towards him shifting as you run, as you arrived he held out his arms and you jumped right on in them. He felt your arms wrap around his neck as he lifted you into the air. He spun you around as he laughed,

“I missed you, Dee!” You purred out happily leaning back a little bit in his arms, he still held you above the ground.

“I missed you too Dearheart,” Fundy whispered looking up at your sparkling eyes it was then, with your white fur shining in the moonlight that he realized he was in love with you. “(Y/n)?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” You breathed out softly, cheeks pink, ears twitching, “I’d like that very much.”

So, he did.

Two years being together of being together was finally when Wilbur- or ghostbur- decided to visit his son. You were outside in the garden, tending to some of Fundy’s vegetables deadset on using some of the fresh ones to make soup for tonight. You were in your human form so you didn’t get your white fur covered in dirt, so you didn’t hear the ghost coming close to the house until he was leaning over your shoulder.

“Hello!”

You screamed like a little kit throwing your basket through the ghost who shivered at the foreign feeling.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The ghost apologized adjusting the round glasses on his face. “I heard my son Fundy lives around here but I must be mistaken!”

“Are you...you’re Wilbur aren’t you?”

“Oh! You’ve heard of me! Was it my music, please say yes!” The ghost’s eyes seemed to sparkle with hope, he shrunk a little as he watched you shake your head, “oh…”

“I’m-”

“(Y/n)! I heard you scream, you alright?” Fundy peeked his head out the door eyes going big seeing his dead father standing beside you. Wilbur looked between the both of you before a tiny smirk spread across his face,

“Ohhhhhh, I see now.” Wilbur nodded watching his son’s face go red, “My little champion is all grown up! With a beautiful human to mind you!”

“Er...not exactly.” You mumbled, allowing your ears and tail to pop up from your head, Wilbur’s jaw dropped in shock and awe.

“She’s like you!” Wilbur gaped reaching up to touch your ears, you flinched a little, and Fundy snarled at his father. “Sorry, sorry,” He pulled his hand back with a sheepish smile Fundy finally walked over to the both of you, pushing you behind him only slightly.

“What’re you doing here dad?” His voice was gruffer than you’ve ever heard it, his tail was puffed up in a way you’ve never seen before from your boyfriend.

He was on edge.

Wilbur shuffled a little fumbling with a piece of something blue in his hands. “I just wanted to check up on my son. No one’s heard from you for a while we’re all getting a little worried. I love you so-”

“Dad.” He groaned pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose pinching it, “look. I appreciate you’re all worried but I’m happier here.”

“But you’re all alone out here! It’s not good for anyone’s health, especially not a young fox!”

“Excuse you?” Your eyes narrowed in offense, “I lived out here all my life.” You bristled in frustration, “I turned out fine.” Wilbur eyed you warily and Fundy squeezed your palm tightly, “I did!”

“I didn’t mean any offense. I’m just looking out for my son.”

“No offense but I think he can look after himself just fine.” You shot right back and Fundy covered up a surprised laugh, “So far so good. Plus he’s not alone, I’m with him.” You squeezed Fundy’s hand rather tightly, as Wilbur glanced at your intertwined hands.

“What she said.” Fundy nodded his head, “we have each other and that’s all we need. At least for right now. So try not to worry too much.” He waved his dad off, “Now if you don’t mind we have dinner to cook.” Wilbur gave a hesitant nod before turning back to look into your eyes,

“Don’t hurt him.”

“I don’t plan on it," You assured nodded your head you both had a brief staring contest before Wilbur said his official goodbyes and headed on his way. “I’m sorry,” Fundy watched your ears fall flat against your head.

“What for?” Fundy’s brows furrowed in concern, “He was being an ass, you had every right to defend yourself. Plus I hate him so.” He shrugged unbothered, “I love you though.” He pecked your cheek and you smiled shyly.

“I love you too Dee.” You spoke softly, pulling him close by his jacket, his tail began to wag enthusiastically.

“Kiss?”

“Kiss.” You nodded standing on your tiptoes to give him a long kiss, he purred tangling his fingers through your hair. You pulled away much too soon for his liking and let out a low whine, you giggled happily and peppered his face in light kisses. “Fundy?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s get married.”

“What?”

~~~

Next Up: Immortality and Nymphs Part II

#dreamsmp x you #dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #minecraft x reader #minecraft x you #minecraft fanfiction #fundy x reader #fundy x you #fundy x y/n #romance #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #fundy x reader drabbles #fundy x reader imagines #fundy imagines #fundy drabbles #mcyt drabbles #c!fundy x reader

[soulmate-game]

part 2 (of that new bio!dad fic)

Dick whipped his head over to Bruce, who could feel the heavy gazes of all his children as if they were physical. If they had had heat vision like Clark, he would have already been reduced to a puddle of mush. Bruce shifted, the only sign of his discomfort, but he recognized that the middle of a gala was no place for this discussion. There were too many busybodies trying to listen in for the latest gossip. So he plastered on a smile that he couldn’t quite feel, and held a hand out to Marinette. He was careful to keep a good distance though, and left the choice for contant purely up to her.

The young woman looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Damian had been shocked silent by what she had to say, and perhaps even more by the all too telling way that Bruce hadn’t so much as implied that she was lying, and the look he was giving her was making her a little uncomfortable. Yes, she hadn’t planned on interacting with her father more than just the years-overdue confrontation she had just done, at least not while at the gala… but her plans always left room for improvisation. She could make this work.

With a soft sigh, Marinette extended her own hand— half the size of Bruce’s, he noted almost immediately with a rush of illogical fondness— and grasped his lightly. She couldn’t help but notice the way his impossibly blue eyes brightened, no different than her own when she was particularly happy, or the way his mouth twitched with a barely suppressed beam. Instead, he controlled himself enough so that the only smile he gave would look professional and entirely in character to the nosy socialites still spying on them, and led them out onto the dance floor.

What everyone else saw was the unfairly charming Bruce Wayne giving his young guest of honor a simple dance. Just a basic swirl around the floor that every other social elite had learned when they were five. Clearly he was taking it easy on the self-made girl, who probably didn’t have experience with such dances. Humoring the accomplished young woman with his approval for a moment before he would slink back to his family or patrol the crowds and make the necessary greetings and meaningless chatter.

What his family saw was Bruce taking time to slow his steps, not for Marinette to keep up but rather to prolong the event. What they saw was the grace in Marinette’s steps as she never once faltered, and that Bruce was careful to take his cues from her instead of the other way around. He only led the dance in technicality, Marinette had all the real control.

What they saw was a father’s first dance with his daughter.

“Eighteen,” Dick whispered, eyebrows drawn low. “She said she’s almost eighteen.”

“Well, that lines up doesn’t it?” Jason asked gruffly, his own gaze never leaving the dancing duo. “We were planning on doubling up your big thirtieth birthday party as your eighteenth adoption anniversary,” he reminded his brother, who just made a slightly distressed noise in the back of his throat. Whether it was at the reinforcement of his adoption coming only months after Marinette being put up for adoption, or the fact that he was turning thirty, nobody could really tell.

“Hurt,” Cassandra spoke up from behind them, looking incredibly concerned as she watched the dance. “Uncertain.”

Stephany rolled her eyes, fidgeting from her quickly building energy. Anger was making her restless. “Of course she’s hurt. Bruce replaced her, with a boy he knew virtually nothing about, not even that long after she was born. How do you think that made her feel, when she found out?” Stephany let out a little growl, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server and downing it in one gulp. She ignored Dick protesting that she wasn’t of age yet, which made her wrinkle her nose. “Only one more year, Dickhead. Get over it, I need the buzz.”

“Well,” Barbara sighed and maneuvered her wheelchair around the group so that everyone could see her. “Nothing we can do right now but be supportive and watch Bruce like a hawk so he doesn’t make this worse,” she stated easily, not looking even the least bit ruffled by the news despite the disturbed glitter in her eyes.

“... Guys,” Tim spoke up, not looking at any of them. “Who wants to volunteer for Damian duty?” At first glance, it might seem like Tim was thinking about his own first disastrous meeting with the younger boy. Once everyone paid attention though, they could see that the truth was that Damian had snuck away and Tim was pointedly looking at a slightly hidden-away staircase to the second floor.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, but before he could say another word Jason shoved him back and started towards the stairs.

“No, not this time Dicky. I’ll talk to the brat.”

Back on the dancefloor, Bruce and Marinette broke away without any fanfare at the end of the song. If Bruce tried to hold her eyes for a moment too long, nobody noticed besides his observant children, and two of Marinette’s protective friends.

Then, just to make sure that nobody caught on with the help of hindsight, Bruce said something vaguely polite and praising, which Marinette accepted with flawless, distant poise. And they went back to their own groups, Bruce quickly noting that two of his sons were missing. He raised an eyebrow, about to ask why when a presence behind him caught his attention. Unlike Marinette and Chloe, this newcomer was not at all trying to hide their approach or be sneaky about it, even though Bruce couldn’t hear any footsteps that were close enough to belong to the mysterious entity. Closing his mouth, Bruce turned around only to be greeted by yet another vaguely familiar face. Bright green eyes bore into his, unreadable.

“Mister Wayne,” the newcomer greeted, voice warm but stiff. If the Waynes hadn’t all had years of recognizing when a person was only pretending to be cordial, they never would have suspected that the boy was anything but pure-heartedly happy to be there. But they did have that experience, and thus they instantly honed in on the very well-hidden fact that he had a bone to pick with them. Or, more probably, with Bruce.

He cut an impressive figure, for all that he was lithe muscle instead of bulk. Hair that was lighter than Chloe’s, less like cloth-of-gold and more like sunlight glinting off of wheatfields. It somehow hung in gravity-defying tufts, yet perfectly arranged to evoke a calming aesthetic. Like the fluff of a long-haired cat, almost, and it looked just as fluffy and hypnotizing. It contrasted with his emerald eyes, impossibly vibrant in their gleam. And the suit he wore was decidedly top-notch, much like the other two they had met from his class. He was daring, in a dark silver suit that slightly shifted in the light, green accents that matched his eyes standing out strikingly against the collars and trim, and coiling in tantalizing swirls at the cuffs. The lining of the suit jacket was done in a dark green that could almost pass for black in the right lighting, adding a layer of both drama and mystery as it peeked out at the back of his collar, the insides of his sleeves if he moved just the right way, at the bottom hem of the jacket when he turned or bent just so. And with his notoriety in the modeling world? He always knew exactly how to move or place himself to get the reactions he wanted. And he was clearly showing off the craftsmanship of his suit just then as he faked adjusting his cufflinks and lifted his head just the right amount to both look challenging and let the dark green on the back of his collar flash in the light in such a way that Bruce and those nearest him wouldn’t be able to miss the brief reveal of color.

“Adrien Agreste,” Bruce greeted back, eyebrows pulling down in slight confusion. Normally the topic of clothing was far from his genuine interest, but in this particular case it was an intriguing, and possibly even concerning, observation. So he said next; “That suit is not of your father’s usual style of design.”

Adrien scoffed, straightening out his suit’s jacket and making the obsidian buttons glint. “Of course not. I’ve started my rebellious phase— or, well, I finally started being blatant enough about it that my father noticed anyway,” the way his lips curled was decidedly not very attractive, but painted a vivid picture of a son who despised the way he was treated. Adrien quickly wiped the distasteful expression away and replaced it with a camera-ready smile. “I’m wearing one of Marinette’s designs, much to his chagrin. She insisted on making this for me as soon as she heard that my father was planning on sending me in a white suit.”

Bruce quickly caught on, and sighed. How long would the gala go on for, again? He didn’t remember what time it was anymore. “Your friend Chloe already got a pretty clear warning in. I suppose you know as well?”

Adrien’s grin darkened with mischief, and he nodded all too happily. “Of course! Marinette told me almost as soon as she found out, a few years ago. You see, we had to put down a very solid rule about secrets between the two of us. She has a bad habit of trying to shoulder the entire world’s problems and not tell anyone about it, if you don’t pay close enough attention,” his voice was deceptively light but his eyes were hard, warning. “And let’s just say, I have a lot of experience with bad father figures. I can recognize them a mile away by now. The signs of neglect, of apathy,” his eyes suddenly lightened when he saw how Bruce’s throat visibly caught, how the man didn’t seem to realize he had stopped breathing. Maybe he was being a little to mean, Adrien thought. So he let the dark slip out of his eyes, and his smile turned more genuine. “You don’t have those signs. You looked at Marinette like you were both the happiest and most miserable man in the world at the same time. But you can’t change what you did to her, Mister Wayne. If you want some advice from Marinette’s oldest friend?” Adrien held out a closed fist.

Bruce took a second to realize what was happening, too busy trying to recover from his situational whiplash and wave of relief. Once he caught back up to the present, however, he held out his open palm and let Adrien drop something into his hand.

To his shock, it was a pen, engraved with the name he recognized as Marinette’s biological mother. He also recognized it as a popular model of pen-knife. He raised his eyes to Adrien, who winked.

“Marinette doesn’t know I had this made. And she has a lot of tricks that might surprise you, but what she wants more than anything is stability. If you try to give her that, show that you care and you want her safe— and then prove that you’re gonna stay— then maybe you can repair the damage you’ve done. It won’t be easy though, Mari is the single most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And I grew up with Chloe.”

Bruce closed his hand around the pen, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but Adrien’s faith in him and his help… somehow felt significant. He nodded to the young model.

“Not to worry, I have experience with stubborn,” he glanced back at his other kids with a small smirk. None of them were the least bit repentant. “And I do want to stay. Thank you for the advice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Don’t thank me. If you hurt her again, you’ll never see my revenge coming. It can be rather… catastrophic,” with that ominous threat, Adrien bowed dramatically and turned to leave and do some rounds charming the elites. Bruce tucked the pen in one of his hidden pockets, but stayed silent after that. He had a lot to mull over.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the gardens behind the gala’s venue. He was glaring at nothing, and his hands trembled from where they gripped the rail. It was five minutes, a little longer than he had expected but not that odd considering everyone’s distraction over Marinette, before he heard the glass doors behind him creak open.

“Yo,” Jason greeted, knowing it was better not to catch the boy off guard. None of them were good with surprises anymore, for good reason. It was always best to announce their presence before they made someone react violently on accident. Damian’s shoulders relaxed a little— not a lot, but enough for Jason to notice. The older man sighed, walking up and leaning on the rail next to his little brother. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“That could have been me,” he almost instantly blurted. It was still hard talking about his feelings, but certain things were easier with Todd. This was, apparently, one of them. “If Mother hadn’t kept me a secret.”

“I don’t think so,” Jason disagreed, shrugging. “There are several big differences here. For one, Marinette was born three years before you were. By the time you were born, he already had Dick and he would have only been a year, max, away from taking me in. Which means he already had built up his problem with taking in kids, and nothing would have gotten him to give up a chance at raising you. With or without Batman getting in the way.”

“But then why—” Damian growled. “Why did he give her up?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jason remarked bluntly. “You know how he is. He didn’t have a kid at the time. Hell, Bruce would have only been twenty-two back then. He only adopted Dick on impulse because Dick reminded him of himself, but before all of that shit? He probably made a million excuses about not being able to raise a baby and be Batman at the same time. About his life being too dangerous for a kid. Which, yes it is, but that clearly didn’t stop him later.”

“She’s older,” Damian muttered, this time softer.

“Yup.”

“Her mother wasn’t an assassin, probably. She designs. I hate to admit it, and you are never to repeat it to anybody, but her work that we’ve seen so far is impressive. She can clearly charm even the most stuck-up of gotham’s upper crust.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed neutrally, his eyes never leaving Damian.

“Father won’t need me. He already doesn’t have much patience—” Damian was cut off by a flick to the nose. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you’re being stupid,” Jason defended himself. “Look, B’s actually been real patient with you these past few years. I mean, when was the last time he yelled at you? Or told you that stupid ‘justice not vengeance’ line?”

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it. After another moment, he replied; “Almost two years.”

Jason nodded. “It might take him way too long, but he can still learn new tricks. Especially after that mess with Heretic, he’s been trying really hard to be better to you. He still screws up, because I think we all know by now that he’s a bigger mess than any of the rest of us and that’s an accomplishment, but he’s trying. He doesn’t keep you around because he needs you. He’s got plenty of us around if all he wanted was soldiers— though none of us would stick around if we thought that’s all he wanted.”

Damian flexed his jaw. He was still the most violent of the kids, besides Jason. He saw Bruce rubbing his forehead or pinching his nose far too often at some of his decisions or comments. He was stubborn, impatient, reckless.

But hadn’t Bruce himself told him on several occasions that he wasn’t trying to make him a perfect soldier? Hadn’t Bruce himself said that he just wanted Damian to grow into himself?

It was just really hard to swat away those stupid voices in Damian’s head. Voices of the past, mostly, old dialogue he had never actually forgotten. That he merely pretended had never affected him. The “you’re too violent”s, the “that’s not how we behave, Damian”s. All the old lectures, the old fights. They echoed like stupid little gremlins of doubt.

“...Marinette has his eyes.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like that,” Jason’s voice was soft, but gruff at the same time as he cuffed Damian over the head. “You didn’t choose to be born, idiot. And despite being a little demon, none of us would reverse it, You’ve saved all our skins at least once. And besides,” he nudged Damian a little with a grin. “You’re not half bad, nowadays.”

Damian chuckled. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey!”

@peterxwade24 @mizzy-pop @maskedpainter @ladybug-182 @khneltea @itsmeevie01 @fusser90 @woe-is-me0 @lolieg @moonlightstar64 @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat fic

[hunterofthemist]

Strength of the Meek

Carrying a paper bag Dave walks into the cafeteria. He looks around the room and sees Kotzal waving him over. He walks over to him and sits down with Kotzal at a noticeably empty table.

"Hey Dave, how are you?" Kotzal asks with a grin. "You dont have to rub it in, I had no idea you were a natural," Dave grumbles.

"It's just that when you showed me the rules I realized how similar they were to a game I used to play on Geon. Thrum If I remember correctly." Kotzal and dave talk for some time, the topic changes quickly from poker to physical ability.

"How strong are humans anyway? I've seen your movies but you said they aren't a good representation of human strength." Kotzal asks intrigued.

"Were strong enough. Enough to take down something bigger than us, at least with some planning that is." Dave answers. "I mean back when humans still dwelled in caves we took down wooly mammoths, which were beasts around three times the size of a human."

"Oh, I didn't know that. It's pretty impressive to hear." Kotzal says more than intrigued at this point.

"What about when a human has to do something impossible, just to keep the ones they care about alive. What do you do then?" He asks, his face getting a bit more solemn.

"We push on, do whatever it takes, even if it means we tear ourselves apart doing so," Dave says with a look of sincerity. He then breaks the look and smiles warmly. "What's got you asking a question like that?"

Kotzal laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head. "I dont know, I just heard stories over the Ether."

The conversation ends as the buzzer goes off on everyone's watch. "Shit thought we had more time for lunch break. That blows." Dave sighs.

Dave and Kotzal start walking down a hallway towards their respective stations. Halfway towards Dave's station, the alarm sounds, as well as an explosion in a nearby hallway.

"What was that!" Kotzal panics, immediately hiding behind dave and shaking. Dave reacts accordingly, not to the explosion but to Kotzal hiding behind him. "Woah dude, you good?"

"Oh sorry, my species is a prey species on my home planet. We get jumpy when stuff like this happens."

Dave chuckles at the thought, "you know if you did this around the others im pretty sure they wouldn't be able to see you." His attention focuses back on the sound. " We should go check out what happened, we're engineers after all."

Kotzal steps out from behind dave nervously and agrees. They walk down the hallway towards the commotion. Smoke billows out of the walls, embers pour out of the holes as well.

A hulking beast pulls its way out of the hole, it had to be around 8 and a half feet tall. Just as dave gets a look at it, several more come out of the walls. Kotzal grabs dave and pulls him around the corner, away from the beasts.

"Get down! Those are Tarvok pirates. We need to go, we do Not want to pick a fight with those." Kotzal is freaking out, likely having a panic attack. He tries to pull Dave with him. Dave doesn't budge, instead, he stares at the wall and puts his hand on it. "I cant."

Kotzal gets more anxious and frenzied, pulling harder on Dave. "No We have to go, David dont do this." In response, Dave grins and puts his head on the cold metal wall. "I said I cant, This station is my baby. I've fixed her more than anyone else. I can't leave her."

Dave turns to Kotzal and continues. "Not to mention the number of people these guys could hurt. You know how far the nearest guard post is, and how understaffed it is. If I turn tail and run countless people will die. But If I distract them, buy us some time. Maybe I can save a few lives."

"But you'll die! You'll get killed, I can't have you do that. I can't lose you, You're the only one who even respects me, let alone is nice to me." He says as tears start to form in his four eyes.

Daves grin breaks and he pulls Kotzal into a hug, Kotzal's small stature causing him to look like a small child not wanting their parent to leave. "That's not happening. I ain't gonna die." Dave thinks for a moment and goes on. "How about you help me, I dont buy this scared child Schtick. There's something there, something strong. I can see that."

Dave breaks the hug and pulls a knife from his belt, and hands it over to him. Kotzal stares at the blade for a second and takes the knife and nods in agreement. "Use your speed and stature to your advantage. there's a lot of smoke, try to use that."

Dave and total talk for a minute discussing plans and strategies after they're done he grabs a pipe on the wall and rips it off, but not before speaking to the station itself. "Sorry about this."

Walking around the corner Dave bangs the pipe on the wall, getting the army of Tarvok's attention. "Hey you brutes, eyes on me." He says, resting the pipe on his shoulder.

One of the Tarvok's starts walking over to Dave with a look of hunger and anger. Dave grins, this being a part of his plan, and stomps on a jagged and sharp piece of metal, launching it into the air. To which Kotzal leaves cover from behind Dave and grabs the piece of metal and throws it into the eye of the Tarvok.

"See, I told you no one would be able to see you back there." Dave jokes. He takes a step forward and inspects the now corpse of the Tarvok. "Oh damn, straight into the eye." Kotzal meekly responds to the compliment. "Thanks, it was heavier than Im used to so I didn't think it hit where I wanted to."

"You're a good shot, keep it up." Dave compliments. For a split second, Dave swore he could see Kotzal's cheeks turn blue.

Dave starts walking forward towards the rest of the army, beckoning them to come to fight him. One soldier takes a step forward to fight. The hulking beast throws a punch towards Dave but he sides steps it and slams his weapon into a pipe next to the Tarvok.

The soldier notices this and started to laugh but a second later the pipe bursts and hot steam starts to burn the soldier and causing it to fall to the floor.

The next one rushes Dave and throws a punch at him, he absorbs the blow into his shoulder and uses the force to spin himself around and slam the pipe into the soldier's skull.

At the display of force, the rest of the Tarvok's take a step back from the carnage. "Hey Kotzal, I think I fucked my shoulder up. It's your turn. " Dave says quietly so the brutes in front of them won't hear. "Yeah, let's do it." He responds, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Dave starts to run towards the group of Tarvok's with Kotzal following. Before he gets too close he ducks down and arches his back and Kotzal jumps off his back and launches himself toward the enemy.

With one hand he throws a sharp piece of metal in the neck of one of the soldiers and with the other he stabs another with the knife Dave gave him.

The last one is in front of them, he's bigger than the rest. Probably the leader. "Let me handle this one," Dave says as he blocks Kotzal from moving forward with the pipe.

Looking at the pipe in his hand, Dave realizes that the pipe is way too damaged to continue to be useful. He takes a step forward and throws the thing as hard as he can. The pipe flies through the air and when it's about to hit, the leader catches it.

As soon as he threw the pipe Dave started running towards the beast but only noticed that he caught the pipe when he was too close to do anything. The Leader propels his knee into Daves's gut, the spike on it spearing into dave.

"Oh fuck!" He screams as the spike goes through him. He falls back and tries to stop the bleeding. Another scream is heard, not of pain but rage. "You Fucker!" It's Kotzal, with the look of pure rage in his eyes.

"I'll kill you!" He screams as he starts running towards him. As he reaches him he jumps at the leader to get a clear shot at him. In retaliation, the Tarvok grabs him by the neck and holds him in the air. Kotzal doesn't seem to notice, the anger blinding him. He starts slashing wildly at the beast in front of him, a good majority hitting their targets.

Kotzal gets a good stab into the arm of the beast holding him, causing him to be dropped.

While on the ground he stabs the blade into the back of the knee of the Tarvok leader making him fall to his knees, lining him up for a stab to the side of his head, killing him.

He keeps stabbing the now dead Tarvok, more out of rage than him being unsure he's dead. After a few dozen stabs he stops and takes a second to breathe and remembers Dave. He turns around and sprints towards Dave.

He starts trying to help him staunch the bleeding and stabilize him. "No, no-no-no. Dont do this, you cant." He starts tearing up trying to help him.

"It's okay, you did well. Didn't expect the fucker to catch the pipe. I think this is it" Dave says as he rests on the wall, trying to do whatever he can to stop the bleeding.

"Dont say that! You'll be fine, I know what im doing. I can help you." Kotzal says frantically.

Dave looks at him and puts his bloodied hand on his shoulder. "You can't save me, an injury like this is impossible to fix up."

"Shut up!" Kotzals shouts as he slaps dave. "We aren't in the medical dark ages, You know how strong modern medicine is." a grin forms on Daves face as he shrugs. "Whatever you say," he says as his vision fades to black and passes out.

Daves eyes open and the bright light blinds him, "hey your awake." a familiar voice says. His eyes adjust to the light and he sees that Kotzal is sitting on the chair next to his bed.

Dave groans in pain as he tries to sit up. Kotzal puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him. "Dumbass, you can adjust the bed." He laughs, handing him the switch.

"How long was I out?" He asks as he raises the head of his bed. "About two days. You had us worried for a little while." Kotzal responds with a smile.

"You can't kill me that easily, its gonna take a lot more than that, I still have work to do here." He smiles back.

"Oh yeah, like what?" Kotzal asks. "The engines been making a thunking noise for the past week, I still figure out what the hell the problem is." They both start laughing for a minute and after they stop a silence is formed between them, which is promptly broken ten seconds later by dave. "Hey after they discharge me, do you wanna go to the bar and get a few drinks? I'll buy."

"Sure thing, I'd love to."

#Aliens #humans are terrifying #humans are space orcs #writing #MY OCs #my wrtiting #oc #oc character #frienship #sci-fi #writerscommunity

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky���s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

[bestiesenpai]

tattoo artist sukuna

I am way overdo to get my sleeve finished and I’m already itching to get a full back piece, so this is right up my alley. Gender neutral reader, and if you’d like to see the tattoo style i reference please go to @/novchild.jpg on instagram :)

It was a spur of the moment decision that led you to drive downtown with your friends at nearly midnight, drunk off each other's energy and eager to do something reckless. Speeding down the motorway, you scrolled through Instagram in search of a tattoo artist.

“Are you guys sure about this?” Your nerves had finally caught up to you as the car was parked in front of the studio you all chose. It was a typical brick and mortar building with a large skull painted on the only window to the outside world. There were a few bald men smoking cigarettes right outside the door, scrawling ink covering their exposed hands and faces.

“Yeah, c’mon!” No one waited for you, everyone climbing out of the car in excitement. Slowly, you got out of the car as well, head down as you walked past the men and into the shop.

Loud, blaring metal music met your ears, jarring you upright and tense. There wasn’t anyone you could see at the front desk, the only workers were huddled in a back corner leaning over something and laughing.

“Which one should I get?” Your attention was drawn away from the men in the corner and to the art hanging on the wall, all different flash sheets from various artists. Some were more gory, clearly drawing inspiration from horror movies while other pieces were bright and colorful, like bubblegum pop come to life.

“Hey.” A gruff voice cut through the loud music, and a man was now leaning against the front desk, spiky black hair in a ponytail with a bored look on his face and several piercings in both ears. He was clearly sizing you up, the black bar going across his nose moving as he did.

Unprepared to speak to him, you were happy when someone else stepped in and started chatting about prices. The man at the counter had on a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, exposing one full arm and hand that was completely blacked out.

“Choso, any customers?” Another shouted, a man wide in stature with long hair. He sauntered up to the counter, tight black t-shirt showing off the traditional Japanese work covering every inch of skin.

“Getou, can’t you see?” Choso rolled his eyes and gestured to your little group.

“I can’t make conversation?” Pulling a face at Choso, Getou leaned his elbows on the counter and flashed a wide grin at all of you. “So, who’s the first to get some ink?” His narrowed eyes looked over your bare skin and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I am! I want that one!” One of your friends pointed at the wall, making Getou hum and nod.

“That’s Gojo’s work, he loves to draw the cute shit. I’ll call him over.” As a white haired man walked over at Geto’s call, one by one your friends made their decisions and were paired with artists.

“What did you choose, (Y/N)?” A friend asked, seeing you still stuck staring at the wall.

“I don’t know!” Throwing your head back, you were beginning to regret even tagging along. There were simply too many options and the task of picking something was daunting.

“Having a hard time choosing?” A flash of white crosses your vision and soon Gojo is leaning down into your field of vision, piercing blue eyes staring at you curiously.

“U-uh yeah.” Stumbling back from how close his face is, you realize how tall he is when he stands up straight, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Me and another guy just got done making a new flash sheet, lemme show you.” It takes him only a couple seconds to go back to his station and come back with a piece of thick paper with drawings on it.

Taking the paper, the drawings were unexpectedly cute. A lot of them looked like rough sketches or crayon drawings, simple in concept but intricate in detail.

“I’ll take this one.” Pointing at a mid-sized crayon drawing, your mouth ticked up in a smile as Gojo took the paper from you with sparkling eyes.

“That one is so cute, good choice! One sec!” Tossing the paper down, he dashes away shouting nonsensical words towards the back of the shop where they’d all been huddled up. “Sukuna! Someones here for ya!”

Rising straight up from a chair with a loud groan, a shirtless pink haired man glared sharply at Gojo. Even from a distance you can see the sharp black lines tattooed across his face and down his body, circles on each shoulder, dashed lines across his chest down his stomach and around his wrists as well.

“Geez you can really yell, you know that?” Running a hand through his hair roughly, Sukuna stands up, flexing his muscles and unknowingly giving the whole shop a show of his chiseled physique.

“There’s a client here to get a piece we made together earlier.” Shoving the paper in his face, Gojo points to the piece you selected. Sukuna mumbles a few words and sets his eyes on you, walking over with a swagger that makes you nervous.

“Alright, where do you want it?” Leaning close to you, Sukuna quirks a brow.

“I don’t know.” You sigh softly, looking down at your arms and legs. “I don’t-”

“Your arm, right here.” Grabbing onto your arm, Sukuna turns it outward to expose the flesh of your inner arm. “It would look good right here, about the size of my palm.”

“O-oh okay.” Nodding quickly, your face is burning when he lets go. His touch still lingered on your skin, the edge of his black painted fingernails digging in briefly as they squeezed you.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes, go sign the paperwork.” Sukuna speaks with his back to you, already walking to the station he had been sleeping at and setting up. Rushing to fill in the proper papers, you wait nervously at the front of the shop for your turn.

The rest of your friends are already getting started, the whir of the tattoo machines adding to the ambience of the shop. With a wave Sukuna calls you over to his corner, still shirtless with a pair of gloves on.

“Hold out your arm.” Grabbing you once again, Sukuna angles your arm in front of a mirror by the table. Rubbing ointment on your skin, he sticks the stencil on and rubs firmly, making you squirm from the tickle of his hand getting close to your armpit.

“What do you think?” Stepping to the side, he looks at you in the mirror. “Little to the left? Right?”

“No, it’s perfect.” The longer you look at it, the longer you love it. Giving you a pat on the shoulder, Sukuna led you to the table, having you lay down and stick your arm out.

“This your first one, I can tell.” He said, adjusting your body how he seemed fit and rubbing more ointment on you.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh yeah, only a first timer would get something like this from me.” A cocky grin spread across his face and he gestured to the wall behind your head, covered in realistic black and white portraits. “This is normally my speciality.”

“You drew yourself?” Pointing up at one of the pictures that looked exactly like him minus the face tattoos, you chuckled.

“Nah, that’s my twin.” Your brows rose in surprise and you looked between Sukuna and the picture.

“Does he have-?” You waved over your face and body.

“He’s too scared to get a tattoo, says he’ll get ink poisoning and die.” Sukuna laughed, pouring out the various colored ink into little cups. “Won’t even let me do a tiny dot on him!”

“Safe to say you two are pretty different then.” You found yourself laughing a little as well, eased at Sukunas laid back nature.

“Mhmm, he’s busy going on the straight and narrow while I’m here ‘ruining my body’ as our grandpa likes to say.” Flashing quick air quotes, Sukuna revs up the machine and fiddles with the buttons. “Alright, you ready for this? Won’t have virgin skin anymore after this.”

“Yes!” Clenching and unclenching your fist, you pushed a deep breath through your mouth.

“If you start to cry, I won’t stop. And if you pass out, I’ll just wake you up.” That was his final warning before he leaned forward, using one large gloved hand to spread the skin of your arm taut.

The first prick of the needle against your skin made you jolt, sucking in a sharp breath and making your eyes fly open. Sukuna snorted, wiped your arm with a towel and kept going. Honing in on the marks and exposed pipes in the ceiling, you tried not to twitch from the needle anymore.

“You’re doing pretty well.” Sukuna mumbled, briefly sitting up and dipping in for more ink.

“Really?” Taking a look at the tattoo, you were surprised to see only one line had been done. It felt like at least three were placed into you.

“Yeah, don’t screw it up.” Sticking his tongue out at you, Sukuna went back to work. Transfixed on watching him, you saw the lines go into your skin, overflowing with ink and being wiped away repeatedly. You were also watching the way Sukuna’s arms flexed, the muscles in his body all on display right in front of you.

“Tell me about yourself while you stare at me.” Sukuna said, not looking up from your arm. Immediately, your head whipped away from him and a deep burn ran over your face. Sukuna laughed at your embarrassment, patting your arm with the paper towel a few times.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re not the first one to do it.” That didn’t make it any better. Slapping a hand over your face, you let out an unintelligible noise from the back of your throat.

“Just great.”

“It’s okay to say you have a crush on me, a lot of people that come to the shop do.”

“Sukuna!” Laughing through the shame, you glanced over at him.

“Hey, it’s the truth.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well can you blame them when you’re built like that?” Feeling emboldened by the late night hour, you took a rather obvious look at Sukuna’s body. With only a pair of sweatpants on, you could see nearly all the tattoos he had.

“Aw thanks doll, I work out.” Sukuna shot a wink at you, briefly flexing both arms and making you blush again. “But enough about me, what about you? What made you come here so late at night?”

“My friends and I wanted to do something spontaneous.” Returning your gaze to the ceiling, the ache from the tattoo gun was beginning to settle into your skin. “And what better way to be spontaneous than to get a tattoo?”

“Ha, I hear that.”

“Why’d you get the ones on your face and stuff?”

“Thought they’d make me look cool, and I was right.” Giggling at his honesty, you quickly nodded in agreement.

“The ones on your face, did they hurt really bad?”

“The ones near my eyes yeah, those hurt the most. But thankfully Choso has a steady hand, so it didn’t last too long.”

Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers over your own face, drawing along the edge of your jaw and eye socket. There was no way you could get your face tattooed as heavily as Sukuna had, if at all ever. You had only just now gotten used to the pain of the needle on your arm and you were still twitching every so often.

“How’re you holding up so far?” Sukuna whispers close to your ear ten quiet minutes later. He’s completely focused on tattooing you yet his face is close enough that if you leaned up a little, you could graze his hair with your nose.

“Fine.” You whisper back, suddenly feeling awkward with the low tone of his voice.

“That’s good doll, real good.” His voice dropped even lower, overcompensating for the song ending over the stereo speakers. Trying not to stare at his serious expression, you look over at the other stations. Gojo is chatting up your friend excitedly, and there’s a number of colorful inks laid out before him. Choso and Geto are hard at work as well, with Choso pointedly not speaking, and a blonde man you’d noticed drinking a large mug of black coffee earlier with his button up sleeve rolled up to reveal two dragons on his forearms.

Just as the pain in your arm was starting to truly burn, the tattoo was over. Sukuna washed it down gently, patting your arm and humming to the song playing. Sitting up with a short grunt, he flicked his head to the mirror.

“Go ahead and take a look.”

Sliding slowly off the table, you held your arm out awkwardly and stood in front of the mirror. Your arm was slightly swollen and stinging, shoulder stiff from being in the same position for so long, but a smile spread on your cheeks.

“I love it.” It looked exactly like the picture: a crayon style drawing of a brown haired girl in a giant green frog, a big pout on her lips while the frog sat on a lily pad.

“Lemme snap a couple quick photos before I wrap you up.” Already with his phone out, Sukuna was quick at taking pictures, posing you like when he’d put the stencil on. “I’ll run down the aftercare stuff with you, also give you a card in case you forget any of it.”

You didn’t hear a thing he said about aftercare. Standing nearly chest to chest with Sukuna while he rubbed ointment on your skin and wrapped your tattoo up, the way his arms nearly wrapped around you to put the cover on, the gentle touch of his fingers pressing medical tape to your skin, even the way he was breathing softly and looking at you - it all had you distracted.

“Alright, you’re all done.” Sukuna patted your arm, breaking you from your trance.

“Thank you so much!” Looking down at your tightly bandaged arm, you could feel the intense heat radiating out of it. You quickly snapped your own picture of the bandage as Sukuna dug around in a drawer.

“And since I could tell you were zoning the fuck out just now, I wrote my number down on the aftercare sheet, so text me if you have any questions.” Holding the paper out to you, Sukuna had indeed scribbled his phone number on the paper in thick black marker.

“Can I really just text you?” Taking the paper hesitantly, you fiddled with it in your hands.

“Of course! I want your tattoo to heal well!” Sukuna nodded, throwing his arms out dramatically. Waiting for you to gather your stuff, he walked you to the front of the shop. “Text me anytime doll, I stay up late.” He whispered right before you got to the front counter, making your jaw drop and ears burn.

“(Y/N), you really got a girl in a frog?” A friend laughed, a bandage wrapped around their thigh.

“It’s cute!” You defended it, holding your arm close to your body.

“The cutest fucking one.” Sukuna added on, slapping the counter and pointing at everyone.

“Aren’t you cold without a shirt on?” Choso mumbled, typing away on his phone in the corner.

“No ‘cause I’m not anemic like you are.”

“It’s still cold outside.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s cold in here!” The two of them quickly devolved into petty squabble, giving each other light hearted shoves in the shoulder while Geto collected the money from everyone.

“Bye, thank you so much!” You all called out as you left, waving goodbye and shrugging your jackets back on.

“I’ll be waiting for that text, doll!” Sukuna shouted right as you stepped out, blowing you a kiss when you whipped your head over your shoulder in shock.

“Text? Were you flirting with him?” A slew of curious looks were thrown your way, making your shock even worse.

“N-no!” You stuttered and immediately grimaced at it, face getting warmer as you climbed into the car. “We were just talking while he tattooed me, he just wants to make sure it heals right.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Let’s go to the drive through now, Geto told me to eat something after getting tattooed!”

“Hey check Sukuna’s Instagram story, he already posted your tattoo (Y/N)!”

“Really?” Rushing to pull out your phone, it was indeed true. Sukuna had posted one of the pictures he took of your arm, a few silly frog gifs surrounding it, with the caption ‘painted a pretty doll with a pretty frog, hope they come back for more xx’.

“You two were definitely flirting!” Shouts resounded in the car, everyone giggling wildly at the caption. Giggling along with them, you quickly typed a message to Sukuna.

(Y/N): hey Sukuna this is (Y/N). Thanks again for the frog! And the picture you posted on your story looks really good :)

(Sukuna): no problem doll

(Sukuna): next time you want a tattoo, text me and i’ll draw up whatever you want

“Sukuna said he wanted to tattoo me again!” You announced to your friends, all of them oohing and crowding around your phone. “What should I say?”

“I’ll do it!” Someone snatched your phone before you could say anything, rapidly shooting off a message and tossing the device back to you.

(Y/N): are you free tomorrow?

“He’s not gonna-” Right as you were beginning to shake your head and type another message, he replied.

(Sukuna): for you? of course

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[writingsbychlo]

let it snow | joel dawson

word count; 20,746

summary; the night is made for doing things you probably shouldn’t do, and the mornings are for running away from them. except, for when you’re snowed in, and trapped with your problems for who knows how long.

notes; this is based vaguely on the movie ‘two night stand’, but very loosely, it does not follow much of the idea at all, just the basic outline. you absolutely do not have to have seen the movie to read this.

warnings; smut, reference to unprotected sex, very light (accidental) slut shaming, that’s about it.

It took you a moment to realise that you weren’t in your own bed when you woke up, startling a little as you came to the realisation. Your walls were not painted blue, and you definitely didn’t have a desk that messy pressed up underneath the window. In fact, your bedroom didn’t have a view like that at all, your bedroom window looked straight out into New York city, and the alleyways behind some dodgy fast-food restaurants.

This was a nice view, calmer roads and little houses, fields sprinkled with snow became visible the more you sat up, and you hadn't remembered it snowing this heavily last night. Sure, you’d been rather preoccupied, and okay, maybe it had been snowing a little bit, but this looked excessive. Although, it would explain the deep chill in the air right now.

You were still a little foggy, jumping slightly as hot breath washed over you from behind the bedding pulling as another body shuffled, and you were stiff all over. Then, it hit you. Reckless, a few drinks in with your happily loved up roommate and her boyfriend, who made you feel more and more painfully single every time you saw them, before you’d retreated to your bedroom, tipsy and secretly bitter, and checked some dating websites. A cute guy, some witty jokes, a funny conversation, and then him.

Everywhere, all at once, a quick train ride and some frantic kisses, your clothes being stripped from your body as that same mouth moved lower and lower, sweaty and hot and barely stopping to ask questions before you were waking up now, a little bit panicked and filled with ridiculous regret. Rubbing a hand over your eyes, you forced yourself to roll over, as calmly as you possibly could, to try and take in the sleeping man beside you.

Messy brown hair, the same shade as dark chocolate, your tongue tingling at the thought of the sweet treat as you liked your lips, resisting the urge to reach out and see if the stands were as soft as they looked. His face was half-hidden within the pillow, slumped down into it, but pale skin reflected little brown moles, his hair beginning to speckle with a light tracing of stubble, the tingle of which was now beginning to make itself known again between your thighs. Long eyelashes on closed lids hid his eyes from you, but you had a distinct memory of them, burned into your mind.

Warm pools of amber and gold, swirling browns that glittered in the low light that had taken over, like flickering candles and pools of caramel, a shade of whiskey that you wanted to be drunk on, beautiful and bright from all the times he’d looked at you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, an odd surge of pride rushing through you as you congratulated yourself on at least being able to pick out somebody physically perfect to have a one-night stand with in your self-pitying loath.

The blankets were sitting around his middle, one hand stretched out a little towards your side of the bed, long and veiny fingers, and you remembered a little just why he’d driven you so wild now, those same veins making tracks up his forearms, disappearing just before his biceps. He was toned, but not overly so, the muscles along his chest standing out, a smattering of dark hair between them, and you could finally remember tracing the slight definition of abs with your tongue, before you’d been tracing something else, and your face flushed with heat as you remembered just how much of the man before you you’d seen.

It felt scandalous now, to be sharing abed with a stranger whom you could barely remember, and to know exactly what he looked like naked, or how he sounded while moaning as he came, but to not even know his last name, or to fully remember the address that you were even at. It was dirty, it was filthy, it was wrong. Oh, but it had been so fun, an experience that everybody should have at least once in their life, a naughty little secret, the one night stand you picked up at a bar, or through a friend, someone you’d look back on fondly once you were ten years older, married and settling down, and as you thought about it more, your lips were still flicking up in a smile.

You’d laugh about it one day.

Slipping from the covers, you tried to find your clothes, not wanting to linger any longer, not wanting the awkwardness of having to deal with stunted small-talk and forced politeness as you tried to adjust to the morning alongside him, someone who was still a little fuzzy in your mind, and your clothes were scattered around the room within easy access, a fortunate happening that made you thank whichever god or deity might be watching you right now.

Sipping your jeans back on, you wiggled a little, trying not to make the flooring creak underneath you, and only pausing long rough to put on your socks, shoes held in hand as you adjust your jumper on your body, a hand running through messy hair to tame it. The man shuffled, and you froze, watching as he paused for only a moment, before flipping over and away from the side you’d been sleeping on, a sleepy huff sounding from him, but he was still snoozing heavily, and you let out a little sigh. Your coat was hanging on the rack, and you grabbed that too, anticipating ho grateful you’d be to have it as you battled against the freezing cold that was surrounding you, toes chilling more and more against the concrete, but you didn’t want to wait much longer to leave.

A scrap of paper, a post-it note from the pad in the hall and a pen that barely had any ink left in, but you scribbled down a few quick words, pinning it up to the corkboard beside the door, and nodding to yourself as you deemed it good enough.

‘had a great time last night, thx.’

With a smiley face and a sign on your name to finish it off, you were undoing the catch across the door, the chain rattling slightly as it fell loose, and you winced, waiting to see if you’d woken him again, the studio apartment he resided within offering little in the way of walls and doors to muffle the muted noises of your escape. When you deemed it clear, your hand sealed around the door handle, clicking it open carefully, and pulling the door towards yourself.

So close, the corridor in sight, but the alarm beeped loudly, and you jumped, the computerised voice startling you so violently that your whole body jerked a little, and you went wide-eyed. You closed the door, hoping it would stop, but the beeping only intensified, and your heart raced in your chest.

“Shit!” Your voice was hissed out in a whisper, and you panicked, hearing the man in bed begin to stir a little, and in a last-minute bid to try and reclaim what little dignity you had left, not wanting to be caught sneaking out, you tore the note back down from the pin-board crinkling it slightly and tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Placing your shoes and coat down quietly as the man began to surface, and you tucked yourself back under the covers on the opposite side, pulling them up to your neck and faking a yawn as he pushed himself up with a groan, sleep broken.

He wandered away from you, your eyes diverting from his body a little bit as the covers fell away, and you were grateful to find that at some point he’d pulled his boxers back on, because you weren’t sure you could handle any more embarrassment this morning. The beeping came to a stop, a mechanic voice informing you that the alarm had been rest, and he was rubbing at his face and yawning as he wandered back through.

“False alarm.”  His voice was still raspy, filled with sleep and cracking a little.

“That’s so weird.” He only hummed in acknowledgement of your words, before he was shaking himself down, settling back into the bed and rolling onto his side, away from you as he fell right back into his slumber, and you sat up. “Bummer that it woke us up. I should probably get going anyway. I had fun, though!”

“Thanks, I think.” He was still half-asleep, barely processing your words, you picked at the sheets a little, trying to decide whether or not you were sufficiently polite enough to be able to leave yet.

“It was perfect for.. y’know.. what I needed. So, thanks, Joe.”

“Joel.” He mumbled, your brows furrowing as your legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor, and a loud creak sounded out under your sudden weight on the floorboards.

“What?” He huffed, deciding that sleep clearly wasn’t a luxury he was going to reclaim, and he pushed himself to sit up, pillows popped behind him.

“My name, it’s Joel.”

“What did I say?” Your fingers were doing up your laces, ignoring the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Joe. My name has a little ‘L’ at the end. Joel.”

“Right, yeah, my bad.” You cringed a little, picking up your coat from the floor, and pulling it up your arms, an amused look on his face as he watched you.

“Did you sleep fully dressed?”

You looked down, shrugging a little and swallowing thickly as this got more and more awkward, and this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured the morning after your first one night stand going. “I, uh, got cold.”

“Uh-huh.” You patted your hand at your sides, not sure what else to do, and he stretched his arms out, rolling his head from side to side, before looking at you again. “So, do you want to get some breakfast? Or do you normally just take off?”

“Normally?” He paused his stretching, looking up at you, a confused expression flicking across handsome features, and he made a vaguely confused noise, as though he didn’t know what he’d just spoken. “You said ‘normally’. Like, as if I do this so often that I’d have a normal and abnormal version of it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no idea how often you do this, I just thou-”

“I told you last night that this was my first time doing this, or even anything remotely like this!” You remembered that part clearly, because you choked a little on your words when telling him, and then he’d laughed breathlessly and kissed you, while pushing you back into his bed, and your face flushed as you remembered the exact moment, graphic detail almost disturbing.

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” You raised your brows at him, hands sitting on your hips as you stared at him, hoping your face portrayed the fact that you absolutely did not know. “(Y/N), c’mon. Do you really expect me to believe that this is your first one night stand, ever?”

“Yes! Because it is!” He stared at you blankly, before shrugging a little, seeming to accept it, but you were still feeling distinctly judged. “The only reason I’m even here is that my roommate and best friend had her boyfriend over, and I was feeling particularly lonely in the holidays, and they were, y’know, about to.. so, I had to do something, an-”

“No, yeah, you were sexiled, or whatever. I remember that. It’s just, surely this isn’t the first time your roommate has wanted to sleep with her boyfriend while you were home, so this can’t be the first time you’ve.. yeah.” He waved his hands, motioning between the two of you, and your arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him.

“I am sensing some distinctly judgy vibes coming from your side of the bed - which is odd, considering what we did took teamwork - and I haven’t even done anything worth judging!”

“There’s no judgy vibes coming from this side of the bed!” He laughed a little, shaking his head incredulously at you, and had your anger not been reaching its peak, you probably would have been a little more embarrassed. “Honestly, I really admire what you did. I wish more girls were that forward.”

“Forward?” You seethed, rolling your eyes at him. “There we go with that ‘slut’ thing again!”

“Wha- what ‘slut thing’? I’m not calling you a slut!” He moved now, standing up himself from the bed and you averted your eyes, letting him scoop up his shirt from the floor and tug it on over his head. “I’m calling you a girl, who went over to a stranger’s house at midnight. If only there was a word for that.”

“You know what, screw you!”

“That was a joke.” You stormed past him, hearing him chase after you with his own laughs as he tried to suppress them. “That was a joke! I’m sorry, bad timing.”

“You invited me here, just remember that!”

“That’s not quite how it happened, but it doesn’t matter.” He was biting at the inside of his cheek to contain his smile, fixing you with an amused gaze. “Look, why don’t we just have some breakfast? I make really good oatmeal, with a little smiley face made out of jam.” He almost had you, your resolve breaking just a little, before he was snickering to himself again. “And it’s not slutty at all.”

“Save your stupid oatmeal, I think I’m just going to take off.” You swung the door open, a bitter smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Thanks for having me, it was just awesome getting to know you. Have a great life, Joe.”

“Okay, cool, well, I’m just going to assume you did it on purpose that time, because I already told you a bunch of times that it’s Joel with an ‘L’.”

“It wasn’t, but don’t worry, you just have a stupid name!”

“Great.” He huffed, no amusement left in him as he stared at you with frustration. “Well, ‘bye! Lovely having sex with you!”

“Wish I could say the same!” You hissed, his jaw dropping a little, before his eyes were narrowing.

“Sounded like you had a pretty good time last night.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” You were prideful and mean, and you’d probably feel bad about it later but right now it was the only way you were getting through this disaster of a morning. “Especially when it’s something like ‘Hey, Joel - cool name.’ Like, what is that? Sounds like the first draft of a name!”

“Okay. Fuck you, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, back!”

It was a weak ending to the argument, but you didn’t care, the door slamming behind you as you stormed away, quick to hold your coat closer to your body as the temperature between the apartment on the halls was radically different, your breath clouding in the air even from within the building, and you located the staircase.

It was only four floors up, the building being rather oddly constructed, only two apartments per floor, and it was unusually quiet behind all of the doors. When you finally reached the main entrance, remembering him coming downstairs to let you in last night, you undid the catch, your shoulder pushing against the fogged up glass as you made to leave, and a confused and slightly pained cry sounded from you as the door refused to budge even an inch.

You tried again, before you were wiping at the glass, to clear the condensation and try and see what the blockage was, but you quickly discovered it wasn’t fog but ice. Moving over to the window beside a door labelled ‘laundry’, you were met with the sight of snow piled up high, almost three feet up to reach the base of the window, and the roads weren’t even visible. You hadn't realised just how heavy the snow had gotten, and how bad the extent of it all was, until now, where you could see the

“Oh, no, no, no.” Panic flooded through your system as you realised just how screwed you were, trapped in a building with no way out, and your phone was dying, and you weren’t even sure whether your roommate would be up in time to come and find you and clear the snow before the battery died. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Pulling up google, you were quick to check the news reports in the area, finding that the snow had increased and come down heavily overnight, it was a city-wide issue, and there was no way that they’d be getting anywhere near where you were for hours, if that. It was still snowing, albeit not as heavily, but they were prioritising inner-city roads and train lines, not little apartment blocks on the edges of cute fields and open space.

Of all the people you could choose to hook up with, you had to pick the person who was living in the most inconvenient location for a snowstorm.

Glancing around, you realised this was it, you were just going to have to hunker down for a few hours, and in all fairness, it could be worse. At least it was clean and smelled pleasant. Settling yourself down against the cool concrete flooring in the edge of the room, you stretched your legs out before yourself, daring to tap the ‘call’ button on your phone, and bringing it to your ear.

You waited, listening to it ring all the way until it went to voicemail, and then again, and again. After three times, and a whole 5% of what little battery life you had left remaining, you gave up on your roommate, knowing that if it were you at home, you’d be snuggled up cosy in your bed and still fast-asleep too. Switching the device off to conserve power, your head fell back, resting on the wall. Most wonderful time of the year, my ass.

“No, it was super fuckin’ weird. Totally fine, and then suddenly everything is a screaming match an-”

You cursed under your breath, the one voice you had wished you wouldn't have to hear again, followed by rhythmic bouncing of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you glanced up, offering a small wave to the person whom you’d hoped never to have to see again, and his brows furrowed, pausing where he was stood.

“I’m gonna’ have to call you back.” Tucking his phone into his pocket, he took the final few stairs slowly, coming to stand before you, and you pushed yourself up from the floor, brushing the dust from your pants. “What are you still doing here?”

“Blizzard. A whole bunch of snow piled up and now the door won’t open.”

He turned back to look at it, adjusting the basket in his arm before placing it down on the floor, and moving over to the door. Your arms crossed over your chest as he did, watching as he pushed the barred handle down, shoulder ramming into the door, and a grunt left him as it refused to move. He tried it again, before rubbing at his arm lightly, and moving away to peer out of the window just like you did, a little shocked at just how much it was, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I told you.”

“I was just trying to help, there was no need to be rude.” He muttered, and you scoffed once again, turning away from him as he picked the basket back up. He wandered away from you, into the laundry room, disappearing from sight, and you sat back down on the floor.

You heard him test the taps, water still coming through them miraculously, the metal and water within not having completely frozen over, and you brought your legs up to your chest, arms crossing over your knees and chin balancing atop them, preparing yourself for a long while of being bored. It was after many clicks and dials, the soft beeping of the machines as they rumbled to life, that you heard him appear once again, dirty Adidas scraping against the floor, before he came to a stop in front of you.

He looked at you for a minute, seeming to analyse whatever thoughts were going through his head, and you raised a single brow at him, prompting him to speak sooner rather than later. “You can come back upstairs, if you want.” You stared at him for a further minute, jaw dropping a little, and he tucked the laundry stock under his arm. “It’s going to be hours until those roads are cleared, even if they do unblock the doorway. You’ll freeze down here, and you haven’t eaten anything. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

He offered his hand, and sliding your palm against his, he pulled you up from your position on the floor, dropping your hand and spinning on his heel to guide you back up to his apartment. It was awkward, to say the least, and you rubbed your hands together to try and warm them back up, the chill in the air beginning to seep into your clothing and cool you to the core.

When the door opened back up, you let out a little groan, wishing you’d suppressed it better but being caught off guard, and you heard the man before you huff a laugh as your eyes scanned over the small space heater that was set up in the corner, warmth radiating from it and spreading across the apartment. Hanging your coat back up on the hooks by the door, you shuffled through the apartment, not too sure what you should be doing now that you’d returned to the scene of the crime from which you’d fled.

You chose to simply follow what Joel was doing, repeating his name like a mantra in your head so that you didn’t mess it up again, and taking a seat at the round table with a few mismatching chairs around it within his kitchen, watching as he clattered about with pots and pans at the stove. You busied yourself with your phone, finding that you at least had a signal, and could access your social media.

Instagram and snapchat were filled with videos and photographs of the snow, taken aesthetically from the windows, roofs and balconies of people who were lucky enough to be in their own homes, curled up with steaming mugs of tea and the loves of their lives to take pictures from behind frosted glass of the winter wonderland that was more like the bane of your existence.

You replied to a few texts, and messaged your friend again to update her, leaving it there for her to read whenever she came back around to consciousness, to tell her that she didn’t need to rush, and that you’d at least found yourself somewhere to keep warm and safe. Your head snapped up when a steaming bowl of oatmeal was paced down before you, smelling delicious with maple syrup and fruit, a spoon clattering down beside it before the scraping of the chair opposite you was ringing in your ears.

Poking at it, you couldn't help but notice the smiley face sitting on top, the syrup beginning to sink in as the blueberries scattered over the top were almost half-submerged, looking a little wonky but still adorable, and you looked up at the man who was already tucking into his own, finding him staring at his own meal in silence.

“Smiley face.”

Your voice cracked a little with your whispered words, but his eyes met yours, pausing only a second before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a gesture of a smile, and one shoulder rose and fell in a weak shrug. “Told you I would.”

You only nodded, spoon stirring at the contents of the dish, mixing it all together and the face on the porridge disappeared as you blended the flavours, before lifting a heaped spoonful to your mouth. Blowing on it carefully, you took the mouthful between your lips, this time successful in holding in your little sounds of appreciation as the food hit your tongue. It was delicious, you couldn't deny that, warm and satisfying as you tried to fight off the cold that was still threatening to creep in.

It wasn’t that you hadn't worn suitable clothing, but you’d only worn a camisole and jumper with a pair of leggings that were undoubtedly on the thinner side, because warm clothing hadn't been your main concern the night before when they were only going to be peeled from your body an hour or so later, discarded to the floor. Now, you were deeply regretting that decision.

You also hadn't realised how hungry you’d been, because the headache that had been forming, throbbing behind your eyes with a dull ache, was beginning to recede, the anger that had been dwelling within your system was fading, and you were allowing your mind to replace it with guilt instead. You’d been a little crass this morning, yelling and lashing out at Joel when it had been your fault that you felt like shit, succumbing to the sensual temptations of nightfall and your loneliness, and blaming your decisions on everyone else when the sun had risen.

“Look, we’re going to be here a while.” You jumped, spoon clanging against the edge of your dish, and Joel tried - and failed - to bite back his smirk at the amusement of having scared you out of your thoughts. “Why don’t we just pretend like last night never happened? Start over again? You can stay on one side of the apartment, I’ll stay on mine, we don’t even really have to interact. We’ll just coexist until the snow is cleared, and then we can part ways and never meet again. Sound cool?”

You let out a breathy sound of amusement, nodding your head as relief flooded your system. “Works for me. Clean slate?”

“Great.” He nodded, that flickering look of amusement passing over his face again, and he reached a hand out across the table. “Hey, I’m Joel. Your roommate for the next couple of hours.”

You paused, letting out a sigh as he arched his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether you were going to leave him hanging, before you accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. Giving him your name in return, he nodded his head, before he was standing up, and taking both of your bowls away to the sink, dumping them into the soapy water that he’d already prepared so that they could begin to soak.

Crossing your legs under the table, and your nails tapped for a second, silence filling the room for a few minutes, and you desperately searched for something to say that you could use to fill the silence. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

His voice sounded almost as strained as your own, but you let out a little sigh at the fact that at least he’d broken the tense silence between you both, and you hummed. “Yeah, that's good with me. Do you have a phone charger I can use?”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, hands still submerged within the sink, but you waved the device at him as he took it in. “Yeah, I’ll grab it. You can go and pick a film; remote is around there somewhere. Pick something good.”

You were more than eager to get away from sitting idly at the table in awkward quiet and waiting for the hours to pass, each tortuous minute making you wish you’d just remained downstairs alone, slowly freezing into a statue. The couch was large and plush, slightly worn seats but it only made it look more inviting, a plethora of cushions and pillows laid out for you to settle into, and just as he’d said, the controls were already out on the coffee table, a few coasters and random pieces of stationary covering the surface too.

Switching the television on, you waited for it to boot up, finding that he had netflix downloaded, and there was a list of films in the back of your mind that you’d been waiting to watch, and you flickered through them all as you stared at the screen. Narrowing it down, you felt like a comedy might be a good choice, lighten the air with something easy going and funny, nothing too intense, and the couch dipped at the very opposite end as your company sat as far away as he could, leaning against the other arm of the couch but dropping his phone charger down onto the space between, an olive branch extended in the form of a tangled phone wire.

“How about ‘Jumanji’?”

“Good film.” He mumbled, and you nibble don your lower lip, before he was letting out the breath he was holding and turning towards you. “Second one is on here too, we could watch them both. I haven’t seen that one, just the first.”

“It’s a plan.” You confirmed, clicking play on the movie and crossing your legs, leaning over the side of the couch to try and locate a socket, pushing the plug into the wall, and hooking your phone up the power, the device buzzing in your hand as it began to charge up.

Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart were an entertaining pair on screen, and as the group began to navigate through the jungle, you let yourself become immersed in what you were seeing on screen. It wasn’t all that hard, because Jack black was hilarious. The occasional echo of a laugh from one or both of you would crack the silence when something happened, and the picking of loose threads on your jumper had begun to stop as you settled a little more into the situation, your anxiety settling and not needing to be quite so stiff.

When there were only twenty minutes or so until the end of the first movie, your phone buzzed, and then again, a series of rapidly incoming texts, and flipping over the device, it was revealed to you as your friend. Swiping it open, you pulled up the texts, chuckling to yourself at the frantic collection of broken messages that she had sent to you.

[soph 🌹] only just woke up, so sorry!!

[soph 🌹] just checked news, no way to get to u!!

[soph 🌹] roads all blocked, wtf, when did this snow come down??

[soph 🌹] kinda funny tho.

[soph 🌹] only u would go for a hookup and get snowed in there.

[soph 🌹] is he at least hot? tap that again. fill the day with hot sex??

You scoffed, but your lips were forming a smile, and you could feel the glances that were being cast your way every couple of seconds, choosing to glance up and return the look as he turned to face you once again.

“My friend just woke up, she’s finally learning about the snow.”

“Did she know you were still, um..” He scratched at the back of his neck, other hand casting around the apartment. “-out?”

Heat flushed your own cheeks, before you were nodding your head, and he seemed or accept that, silence forming between you both once again as he turned to look back at the TV screen, but stretching out with a little more comfort, long legs crossing at the ankles from where they were extended before him, and he lounged back a little more.

> that’s definitely not going to happen.

You were only given a moment of reprieve, before your phone was chiming again.

[soph 🌹] why not!! not like you’ve got anything else to do

> probably bc we're not exactly getting along. civil at best.

She didn’t respond after that, leaving your message on read, and you assumed that she’d become preoccupied with the man you guessed would have spent the night there with her, and once again, you were envious of her for being at home and comfortable in her own space, when instead, you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The majority of the second movie was spent more on taking in the details of the apartment around you, instead of the plot line and characters. Posters hung up on the walls, and you wondered how he could afford to live here, the place was nice, but there was nothing here that suggested another person lived in the apartment, but there was no way a college student could afford a place like this alone, unless his parents were paying for it. It was a nice area, the kind of place you could live with if you had kids or were elderly, and you were pretty sure on your way over here the night before that you’d seen someone walking a dog, making it the picture-perfect neighbourhood.

College textbooks and stationery were around, a stack of notebooks and text printouts sitting on the little table before you, and it was almost fifteen minutes before you built up the confidence to lean forward and take them all in with a little more detail. He watched as you went, your eyes moving to meet his as you waited for permission, but he never stopped you, so you picked up the first book that was on top.

‘Art within Literature: The Importance of Illustrations’

“Didn’t have you pegged for an art kinda’ guy.” You mumbled, and you heard him chuckle, before he was sitting up a little straighter, moving across the couch closer to you just slightly, to see which one you had picked up.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that, actually.” He grabbed at the controls, your eyes flickering up to the screen as the sound of the movie cut off, replaced by the boring drone of the local news station, but right now, it may as well have been the most important thing in the world as the two of you perked up to listen. Placing the book back down, your legs folded underneath yourself, and you secretly had your hopes up that they were going to be getting around to this end of the city soon.

It took a while, the list of places that were being cleared was working out from the inner city in circles, your hopes falling more and more and you listened, getting an update on the weather about how it was expected to be even colder tonight than it had been last night, and the snowfall wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon, but instead, you would be here even longer than expected. The earliest that there were any plans for the road to be cleared in this area was tomorrow morning, and sadness was once again spiking within your system, feeling the man beside you sag with just as much disappointment.

“Guess I’ll set the couch up for you, later.”

“Thanks.” You hoped your lack of enthusiasm didn’t show in your voice, because you truly were grateful, and he stood up, wandering away to his bedroom and grabbing the plastic woven basket he’d been using earlier as he went, presumably to start up another load of laundry. When the door to the apartment closed behind him, you were left in silence once again, and you turned down the volume and picked up the next book that had been on his pile.

This one was a sketchbook, that much was clear as soon as you opened the book, and his full name was written across the front page, information on how to return it if it came up lost followed it, smudged fingerprints from graphite and coloured chalks were also along the corners. Flipping the first page, you were caught a little off-guard by the image you saw, yet not entirely surprised.

Clearly, his passions lay with fiction and fantasy, the name of what you assumed to be some kind of ancient Greek novel, much like ‘Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’, because a range of different creatures and monsters were scattered across the pages beautiful drawings, incredible details and shading, and you’d never seen anything quite like them. You wanted to trace your fingers over them, but resisted in fear of ruining the delicate art, and flicked through the pages instead.

At the top of some pages the book titles changed, inspirations from different famous works, some you knew and some you didn’t, but the drawings were always perfect. When you reached the final page, you placed it down, guilt once again running through your veins as you remembered the way you’d snapped at him this morning, because the more you learned about him, the more you realised he wasn’t all that bad, and he was probably a pretty decent guy, if you’d just given him the chance to be.

Getting up from the couch, an idea was forming in your mind, a way to at least try to pay him back or make your appreciation known, and you found yourself again in his kitchen, hands on the cupboard doors as you began to look through them.

They were mostly empty, not much in place but enough to make it work, you were sure of it, you could whip up something out of all of it, and you moved across to have a look at the contents of the tall refrigerator hidden in the corner.

“Need help finding something?”

You startled, turning to look at him and closing the fridge, and his hands were on his hips as he stared at you, your arms wrapping around yourself gently as you shrugged. You couldn’t blame him for being a little putt-off, you were just a stranger after all, but you wanted to at least try and make proper amends with him, and so you let yourself be unbothered by the frustration flashing over his features.

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just seeing what you had in.” You waved a hand behind yourself, swallowing thickly and taking a small step around the dining table towards him. “I was just seeing what you had, because I was hoping to cook dinner for you, maybe? Y’know, as a thank you for letting me stay with you, and keeping me warm and all, even though I was rude this morning.”

“Oh.” The tightness in his shoulders loosened, his body slumping a little, tension melting away, and a bashful look flickered over the anger, taking its place as he tried to muster a smile for you. “That would, uh, be nice. Thanks. I don’t have a lot in, though.”

“You really don’t. Do you just survive on junk food and pasta?”

He laughed, a genuine laugh at that, before he was standing before you and reaching over to the cupboards, pulling out a packet of pasta, and holding it out to you. “What’s wrong with junk food and pasta?”

“Nothing! But it’s all you have!”

He only grinned, opening the fridge and standing to the side, double-checking what he had in. “Well, I’ll have you know that I make a great minestrone, and that’s what I was planning to have for my dinner tonight. You can join me.”

“I don’t know how to make that.”

“Well, I’ll teach you, and it’ll change your life. I swear it.” He closed the fridge, leaning back against it with a questioning look on his face, and you shrugged, but you felt a lot more comfortable already, the simple banter between you both mending a broken bridge.

“I was supposed to be cooking you dinner though.”

“You can be my sous-chef, how about that?” Now that was a deal you could work with, and you shook his hand, this time it was filled with giggles and wide smiles, as opposed to the last time you’d come to an agreement over breakfast only a few hours ago, the beginning of the day bringing much brighter prospects than the early morning had. “Now, what do you want to do until then?”

That was a good question, and it took you a minute to think about it, eyes glancing around his apartment for inspiration, pausing on the television stand with boxes of games stacked up underneath, and you lit up a little. “How about board games?”

He groaned, loudly, and you found amusement in it once again, being that this was his apartment, and he was finding issues with his own methods of entertainment and possessions. “Nobody plays board games while sober.”

“It's midday! We’re not getting drunk at midday!”

It was scandalous, and you didn’t have much more space to give over to scandals within the next twenty-four hours, pretty much having reached your quota already, and a cheeky look flickered over his features. “Well, we don’t necessarily have to drink..”

“What are you suggesting?”

Your eyes narrowed on him, and he spun on his heel, not saying a thing but letting you follow him. He cleared the books from the coffee table, stacking them all away on the floor in the corner, before lifting up the fold in the middle. He reached inside, and you waited patiently, your jaw dropping as he revealed the item to you, looking more than proud of himself.

A bong, tall with green glass, and it was decorated and bejewelled along the bottom, stickers and actions figures stuck to it, the whole collections making you snort a laugh as you looked at him, before your hands were landing on your hips and a look that you hoped read as ‘seriously?’ written on your face.

“What, you don’t want to?” He waited a moment longer, nibbling on his lower lip, before sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table and finding his lighter. He also reached for the first box on the top of the file, producing a box with one word across the front, brightly coloured and you recognised it. “Suit yourself, but I am. I need something to get through the whole afternoon with you.”

The comment would have stung a lot more had it not been for the cheeky wink that he added onto the end to tell you he was joking, and you sat cross-legged opposite him, picking up the box labelled ‘UNO’ and tipping the deck out into your hands. He clicked at the lighter, waiting for it to spark up, before his mouth was meeting one end of the glass, the contents inside bubbling and gurgling a little as he inhaled, and you dealt out the cards.

He hummed, head tipping back, eyes closed as he settled into the feeling of his eye, and as though he could feel you watching him, his head fell forwards, eyes opening to look at you. “Sure you don’t want any?”

You waited only a moment longer, before huffing out, holding your hand out for them both. “Fine, hand it over.” He placed both pieces on the table, sliding them across the polished wood to you, and you picked them up. Clicking on the flame, you adjusted it in your hand, lips pressing to the cool rim of glass, swilling it a little for good measure, before you were lighting up the end.

Steamy smoke curled up into your lungs as you inhaled deeply, warmth racing through your body as a tingling kind of feeling ran through your throat, tickling and making you grin, in a way that you were familiar with and yet hadn't been accustomed to in a long time. The buzzing feeling raced through your body, already kick-starting nerves and reactions that had felt dormant for a long time.

You hadn't been to a party, a real and exciting college party, since your break up. You’d locked in and sealed yourself away ever since your heart had been broken, and it felt good to adventure back out into the world like this, even if you were locked away with a guy from halfway across town whom you’d known for about twelve hours. “Okay, you were right.”

“Feel better?” He grinned, holding his hand out for the device, and for a little while, the two of you simply shared it between you, letting that initial tingle grow into a proper buzz the world around you beginning to slip away into a haze. Your vision was soft around the edges, slightly out of focus, and the world felt a little more comfortable. Spreading your legs out underneath the coffee table, your back leaned against the couch, feet in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed and folded under him.

When you’d decided your high was enough, you’d started with the games. ‘UNO’ had brought on rivalry and chaos, the two of you raising your voices to the point that you’d been yelling at one another, throats going a little sore as you cursed and laughed, not quite sentient enough now to make the best calls at the game, and so it had felt like it had dragged on for hours, before you had finally been the champion.

He had challenged you to a rematch in the form of a board game called ‘Frustration’, and the two of you had been so busy playing that the time was slipping away around you, the board being flipped by you as he began to win, counters scattering across the floor, and he looked completely and utterly insulted at it, before cracking up laughing with you once again.

After that, you had sprawled all of the games out over the floor, some of them being team games that you were unable to play together, and you’d refused to play a drawing game with him, because you’d peeked at his designs, and were scared to showcase your own drawing in front of him, worried that he’d completely put you to shame and leave you embarrassed.

Poker had been too much of a challenge, half of the pieces for the monopoly board were missing, and you’d done every round of Mario Kart at least once by the time it had come to turning off the console under the TV. Joining you by your side, the two of you were slumped lazily into the couch cushions, shoulders pressed together as the bong sat between you, fresh hits racing through your systems to keep everything exciting, but the thrill of the act itself was beginning to die off, and you were once again out of things to do for entertainment.

At some point, the light outside of the windows had faded, the clumps of snow that had been left along the windowsill were still rising, flakes still falling in flurries from the clouds, except what had once been visible in the day was now dark, the low light of the lamps in the room spilling golden light out across the walls and carpet. Rolling your head to the side, you took in the man sitting before you, watching as he tapped his feet repetitively on the coffee table to the beat of a song you didn’t recognise.

“I looked at your drawings.”

“What?” He paused, twisting to look at you, and he sat up a little further.

“I was being nosey. Earlier, I looked at the drawings in your sketchbook.” His gaze flickered to the leather-bound book in the corner, stacked up with the rest of his belongings, before getting up and putting the bong away, folding the edge of the table back down, and wiping a hand over his face, cheeks tinted pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the warmth of the room or out of embarrassment. “They’re incredible. Some of the best illustrations I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. I could never draw like that. I can’t even draw stick men without them being wobbly, sometimes.” He smiled again at that, and you found an odd feeling running through you at the idea that you were able to make him smile, your stomach clenching and twisting as he looked at you fondly, shaking his head a little, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I don’t get a lot of practice with it, I can’t get any apprenticeships yet because nobody wants to hire someone who’s only experience is in one element. Mine being fantasy-sorts, I suppose.”

“Will you draw me?”

“What?” He looked a little startled, eyes wide, and you shuffled forwards on the couch, hand twitching to reach out and take his as you tried to reassure him, watching uncertainty flick over his face. “I don’t really have experience with drawing people. More the imaginary things, described but never seen, less to fuck up if there’s nothing to compare it to.”

“I don’t think you’ll fuck it up.” He swallowed thickly, moving to kneel on the other side of the table, his sketchbook in hands as he fidgeted with it.

“If I mess it up, don’t make me show you, okay?” You only nodded, and he hesitated a moment longer, before getting himself into a more comfortable position, searching through the drawers around him to find his pencils and equipment, laying them out and taking an extra amount of time to line them all up perfectly, and you were sure it was because he wanted to give himself a spare few seconds to hype himself up to it.

You waited patiently, just now beginning to process what was about to happen, and that you’d have to sit still for a long time, while he stared at you, drawing every highlight and flaw of you, while you remained steady under his gaze for as long as it took. When he was ready, you moved yourself a little more, sinking down onto the floor after rounding the coffee table, sitting at the side of it as he positioned you.

“Can you, um-” He tugged two fingers on his own t-shirt, and you looked down at your hoodie, the hood of it crowding around your shoulders, and you nodded, tugging it up from the bottom and over your head. A cool breeze swept over your skin, exposed with only the thin satin camisole hanging on your body to keep you warm, but you felt yourself light up on fire with the way his eyes swept over you. “However you’re comfortable. I’m just going to draw your head and shoulders, so, do whatever you want.”

You pressed your elbows to the wood, hand forming a loose fist and your cheek pressed to it, leaning like that, a slight ankle, and he nodded his head to himself, seeming to approve of the pose. Picking up a pencil, he studied you for a second, the nib hovering over the paper as he held it at an angle that couldn't see, perfect for him to work on though, before stopping.

Placing the pencil between his lips, he held it there, reaching forwards to pull a few strands of your hair free on either side, framing your face and letting them dangle there, curling one around his finger a little to make it twisted, before he was pulling back. “You’re so pretty.”

After that, he was working. Quick strokes of his pencil over the paper as he created the first outline of you, your head, where and how your hair would fall, your hand holding up your head and down to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, quick movements, a lot of erasing, and very light brushes of the graphite over the paper. Once he was sure he had the form right, only a few minutes in, he started on the details.

His eyes, lingering on your face, licking at his lips to keep them wet as he worked, parted for short breaths, unaware of what he was doing and you resisted biting down on your own as you looked at him, trying to hold your position. It was hard, the look of concentration on his face while staring at your mouth, or the determination in his eyes as he held your gaze and yet was so far away, taking in every little detail, until he was rubbing his finger over certain spots to create shading, and create the minute detailed with finally sharped tips.

Your arm was sore and neck aching when he finally told you that you could sit up, and you rolled your head from side to side, loosening the muscles and tendons that had begun to lock up from the prolonged length of time motionless. He was clutching the pad to his chest, fingers tapping at the back, some slightly smudged with grey graphite, and you inched closer to him.

“Can I see?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He tried to laugh at his own comment, but was nervous, and you placed a hand over his gently, pulling it toward you slowly, and he gave no reluctance, but wasn’t moving of his own accord. “Okay, you can look, but you have to remember that I’m not good at drawing people, and I’m still high as fuck.”

You’d almost forgotten about that, and it was just now clicking with you why you’d been bold enough to do something like model for a sketch, your inhibitions lower, the boldness of nightfall giving you yet another boost in something that you’d never have done earlier in the day. Taking it from him, you turned it around, seeing the nervous look on his face before you were looking down at the sketch. His own worries had prepared you for the worst, but as you looked at it, you decided it wasn’t all that bad.

There was certainly work to be done, but he had the basic forms down, even you could tell that. It was clear that his skill lay elsewhere, the detailing of things like fins and scales was nothing like drawing the subtle imperfections of skin and the dips and dimples of a face, the creases where a fist held a head up nothing like the folds along the back of a monster, but he certainly had a grounding to work from, and you loved what you were seeing despite it all.

“I love it.”

“You’re totally lying to me.” He mumbled, and you shook your head, placing the notepad down, and fixing your attention on him. “It fuckin’ sucks.”

“It does not! I think it's really good. Especially since you said you had no practice, I was expecting something bad. This is so much better than you made it out to be.”

His lips flicked up at the sides, his head raising, bringing him a little closer to you as he straightened out, feeling better about it all now. “You should’ve seen some of the things I drew in high school. My portraits were awful back then, but I was drawing people while in the car, so it wasn't the smoothest of working places.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve come a long way since high school, and I think you’re really talented.”

He hummed, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time, as he licked at his own, there was no excuse of artwork, or anything else, your heart jumping slightly in your chest. There was a moment, a second’s hesitation as you questioned whether this was what you wanted. There was time to stop, to pull back, his nose bumping yours lightly, warm breath washing over your mouth, and you were a second away from closing the gap, before loud knocking was sounding at the door, and making the decision for you.

Pulling back, his gaze went over your head, brows furrowing as he stared at the door. “Hello?”

You winced at the loud shout, and he mumbled an apology upon realising it, slight disappointment surging through you, but not as much as relief. You were growing more and more attached to this man, but at the end of the snowstorm, you’d still have to leave, and he was still a stranger. You were high, and the romanticism of the situation was morphing things to look rose-tinted and alluring, and you wanted to be of a rational mind to make a decision like that. “Hey, Joel! It’s Mandy, I was wondering if you would grab your stuff from the laundry room, so I can put a couple of loads through?”

His eyes went wide, gaze dropping to your own for a second. “Shit, I totally forgot about the laundry!”

His hand slipped down to yours, fingers lacing together as he tugged you up from the floor, handing you the basket that had been discarded hours ago, and he opened the door, an older woman who looked positively exhausted, arms full of boy’s clothing, and you pitied her knowing that she must be trapped in a shoebox apartment with a son who would be bouncing off of the walls and unable to burn off that energy.

“Sorry, Mandy, I forgot about it. We’ll grab it now.”

“We?” You muttered, the woman’s eyes flickering over you in amusement, and you were tugged out of the apartment and towards the stairs quickly, hearing the door close behind you, and the much slower steps of the tired mother as she trailed you.

The concrete was cold underfoot, especially the lower you got, and you hissed as your sock-covered feet hit the icy stone, never having had a chance to put on your shoes. Putting the container down, he opened it up, steam curling out into the air, even though the dryer had been finished for hours.

‘You couldn't have let me put my jumper on before we came down here? It’s literally freezing over right outside that window.” You mumbled, Joel turning to you, and he cringed a little, as though he had only just remembered the scrap of fabric you were wearing as a top. Pulling an armful of the warm clothing, he sorted through them, pulling a cosy looking jacket from within, and wrapping it over your shoulders. Heat seeped back into your body, warmed from the machine, and you barely noticed the mother entering the room, waiting for Joel to clear his clothes out, watching as you ripped the hoodie up along the front of your body, hood pulled up and hands made into paws by the long sleeves.

“You look cute.”

“I look cold.” You retorted, and he only rolled his eyes, but Mandy laughed, and that was enough recognition for you.

“Yeah, well, we can make some hot food when we get upstairs and you’ll be fine, how about that?” He sat the collection under one arm, offering his other hand to you, and you pushed up the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, weaving your fingers with his as he guided you from the room.

“I’ve been waiting for this minestrone you’ve been boasting about. I need to see if it lives up to the hype.

“Hey, everyone loves my minestrone!” He backed his way into the home, dropping your hand in order to place down the basket that wouldn’t be looked at for hours now, you were sure. He ushered you into the kitchen, hurting you along until his hands were tickling at your sides and you were squirming under his touch, laugh loudly as he pushed you into the little room.

You worked alongside him, trying to take in the information he was giving to you but it was hard, because the little things he was doing were distracting you. The way in which his hands moved as he chopped the vegetables or prepare the meat, the passionate easy his voice sounded as he told you all about it, his eyes sparkling a little while instructing you, and the little jokes he’d make while bumping you out of the way with his hip, or guiding you around with nudges of his elbow or shoulders.

While cooking, he opened up a little, a story that you’d never have expected to learn from him, but he told you anyway. His parents had died in a car accident when he was young, too young to really remember them, but he’s been allowed to take several boxes of things with him to his foster home as he waited for adoption, and he’d taken his mother’s recipe book as one of those items.

When he’d been adopted, a man whose family had died and he’d become a foster parent, had helped him experiment with his cooking and drawing, instead of forcing him into typical paths for men to take, making him become a football player or a lawyer like he’d expected he’d end up after leaving the system.

A younger sister, also adopted from another family called Minnow, and a dog adopted from a shelter called ‘Boy’, and suddenly, in the space of time that it had taken to make the meal, delicious smell floating around you, he’d spilled to you his history, and you’d listened quietly as he got it off his chest, figuring out somewhere along the way that you were probably one of the only people to ever know this story.

You weren’t sure if that brought you comfort or not, whether he was telling you out of trust and connection, or whether he was telling you because he knew that you’d never see one another again after today, and so he didn’t mind sharing his deepest protected truths. During the heavy discussion, the nibbling of food and the time passing you by, the high you’d once claimed was beginning to fizzle out, everything coming back to sharpness once again, and yet somehow, just by being in his presence, you still felt that same freedom.

When you were sitting back at the table, he was staring at you with excitement now, watching as you lifted a spoonful of the concoction to your lips to try it, seemingly leaving behind the heavy conversation that had taken place as he simply moved on. You took a longer than needed time to assess it, humming contemplatively just to put him through his paces, before finally giving in.

“Okay, this is really good, I’ll give you that.”

“I told you so!” He cheered loudly, arms thrown up in the air, and you laughed a little, tucking into your meal, and wiping up one of the bread rolls that he'd placed into the middle of the table for you both.

You were tempted to ask him for the recipe, knowing that one day you’d be craving it again, and yet, you weren’t sure if you could, whether it would be appropriate or whether that would be crossing a line, to ask to take away a piece of something that he shared with his late mother.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” You spoke, tearing off a mouthful of bread roll after dipping it into the soup mix, and chewing slowly as you waited for him to reply.  

“Did you mean it?” You paused your chewing, confusion making itself known on your face as you silently questioned what he meant, stirring your dinner with your spoon as you waited for him to elaborate, and he swallowed his mouthful to do so. “When you said my name sounded like a first draft of a name.”

For the umpteenth time today, embarrassment and regret was flooding through you, and you took your time to finish the food you were eating, his gaze lingering on you as he waited. When you couldn't stall any longer, you sipped at your water, before giving in. “Yes, I did.” His mouth pursed into a thin line, and you reached a hand out across the table, trying to contain your amusement. “Like, a really good first draft, though, almost there!”

“Nice save.”

Silence fell between you both once again, eating food in a comfortable quiet, and once again the direct parallel to this morning’s porridge struck through you, only twelve hours having passed and yet absolutely everything was different between you both. You couldn't put your finger on what it was about him, something that had caught your attention the first time around had now got you captive again, and there was just something adorably charming about everything he did.

Handsome but bashful, shy but cocky, always making jokes but somehow being able to jump right into something deep and meaningful too, and you’d closed yourself off for so long that it was a little scary for everything you were feeling to come rushing back all at once.

You hadn't had a crush since high school, and you weren’t sure if you liked the idea of one forming now.

“What about the other thing, did you mean that, too?” You searched your mind, reliving that argument as you tried to work out what he was referring to, and you almost dropped your spoon as it all came crashing down, remembering the harsh words that you’d spat in the eat of the moment, and yet it didn’t make them any less true. You only nodded your head, and he let out a loud groan, pouting a little. “Well, that fucking sucks.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, it’s really hard to do! Women are just better at doing that themselves, y’know? We don’t have to talk about it.”

“That doesn't help! You can’t just, like, drop a bomb on me like that; ‘hey, maybe you've never made a girl come in your entire freakin’ life’ and then say you don’t want to talk about it!” He pushed his empty dish away from himself, and your brows raised, arms crossing over atop the table, staring at him critically, and deciding you were finished with your food. “I want to talk!”

“No way! Guys can't handle constructive criticism like that! We’ll end up just like we were this morning, and then we’ll be back to square one! I like how we are now!”

“No! I promise you, I can take it. Just, help me out, here?” He reached out, pushing the dishes out of the way so that nothing was in the way, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “You help me, I’ll help you.”

“What do you mean help me? You think you got pointers for me?”

“This isn’t a one-way street! Last night was awesome, but you could improve on a few things too. Guess you’ll never know, now, though.” He sighed, glancing off over your head, and you knew it was bait, some very obvious bait at that, and you hated to fall for it, but your own insecurities were getting the best of you, and you huffed loudly.

“Fine!” He turned back to you, a wicked smile on his lips as he realised that clearly, he had won. “I bite, you got me. Go!”

“Okay, this isn't just you, I just wanna’ make that clear to start with.” You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair, arm still crossed and listening intently. “What is with the whole lights off, thing? The fuck is that? If the lights are off, like you requested and I so gentlemanly obliged, I could be having sex with anything! I don’t want to be having sex with anything, I want to be having sex with you.” He paused, eyes darting away from you for only a second, and he wet his lips. “Or, y’know, whoever it is I’m with.”

“Lights on? Wow, and all guys feel this way?” He opened his mouth to reply, before you were letting out a loud ‘booing’ sound. “Duh! Girls hear that more than ‘hello’. That’s all you got?”

“Okay, okay, alright.” He smirked slightly, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the table. “You, and by you, I mean women in general, do this thing where you stand up, and kinda’ turn away, and then get undressed, like, super-fast. Like you’re at the doctors or something, getting a physical!”

“I’ve never had any complaints about how fast I undress before. Most guys like naked me.”

“I love naked you.” He dropped his gaze, scanning along your body, and you threw a bread roll at him as you realised he was remembering you without your clothes on from the night before, the soft accompaniment bouncing from his head and rolling over the table. “Hey! I’m just saying! Naked you is awesome to look at, and touch, but what I mean is that you could make the getting to being naked part a little more exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah! You know, do that whole slow bra thing, take it off to the side. Drop it in that sexy way. Do that little ass thing with your panties, y’know, where you just-” He wiggled in his seat, demonstrating the little as movement that all girls did with their panties when they wanted to feel a little sexy. “All I’m saying is that guys like the undressing part too, make it more of a.. thing.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. One more thing.” He paused, this seemingly the one he was most nervous about, and you leaned forward on your elbows, watching him lean in a little too, rolling his lips before speaking. “When I was inside of you, you did this thing. You started helping yourself a little bit, it kind of made me feel like I was being benched. Second-string, forgotten.”

“Duly noted.” You mumbled, and he shrugged a little, the space between you both going void of sound but crackling with electricity. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know who taught guys to do that alphabet thing with their tongue, but it kind of makes me feel like I’m Helen Keller being fucked by her teacher.”

“That’s not a fantasy of yours?” He faked shock, and you tried to cover up your laugh to keep the conversation as serious as you could, and he tried to still himself, nodding for you to continue.

“There was this one moment, during foreplay, where I was close to coming, and I’m pretty sure I subtly pointed it out. Do you remember what I said?”

“Uh, ‘I’m close to coming’?”

“Yes, that’s it!” He scowled falsely, unsure where you were going with this, and it was your turn to smirk a little. “Right after I said that, you totally switched up what you were doing. What was the thought process there? If you had me right there at third, home base in sight, why would you start running in a different direction?”

“Okay, got it. That’s actually helpful.”

“All my tips are helpful! Like, also, you waited for me to undress you. Which was awkward, and a little weird, don’t do that.” You were almost out of advice, pausing for a second to think. “When a girl helps out, that's a good thing! This is sex, not a competition, my ex was weird about that too, just embrace the team spirit, it makes it better for everyone.” He nodded, and you felt a little out of breath, but a weight lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Yeah, you went too fast. I felt like I was being drilled for oil. Girls want fast, but also slow. Kinda’ felt like you were in a rush, had somewhere better to be.”

“Trust me, I didn’t.”

“Obviously.” You teased, and he grinned, taking in all the information you were giving him. “Lastly, I guess it’s just after. Like, as soon as we finished, you retreated to the other side of the bed like you’d planted a bomb down there. Stick around, hold a girl, count to ten or something. That one will get you a long way, trust me.”

“Cuddling. Noted.”

“Other than that, you were a perfectly adequate lover.” He gaped at you a little, and his whole body sagged.

“Adequate? What a way to boost a guy’s ego.”

“See, I knew this would happen, you’re-”

“Fine! I’m fine!” He reached out, placing a hand over one of yours, and squeezing comfortingly. “Seriously, now I know. I can make use of that advice next time.” He offered you a smile, and you tried to return it, nervous butterflies making you feel a little nauseous as you tried to settle yourself, no indication that he was angry or upset with you. “You said something about your ex in there, y’know. Is that why you broke up, crappy sex?”

You knew it was meant as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but your stomach dropped. “Uh, no.” You cleared your throat, hands pulling from his to clasp them in your lap as you looked away. “That would’ve been because I found him in our bed with one of my friends.”

The air went dead, silence encased you, and you heard the legs of his chair scrape on the floor as he pushed it back. Kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his, forcing you to meet his eye. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“It’s okay. At least I know she isn't getting much.”

He chuckled, but it was dry and empty, and he reached up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “For the record, I think he’s a dipshit. You’re an amazing girl, anybody who would cheat on you isn’t worth you.”

“Thanks, Joel.”

He stood up, pulling you with him, until you were standing up once again. “Go find another film. I’ll get us all sorted here. Anything you want, it’ll cheer you up.” You waited a moment longer, ready to do as he’d said, before a set of lips were brushing against your forehead, and your breath hitched in your throat. Pressing into the touch just a little, it was almost embarrassing how you reacted, how much you’d missed simple affections, how it felt to be excited around someone instead of just bored or dreading having to see them, the excitement of once again experiencing the thrill of something invigorating and new. “I’m honestly sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Kinda’ is.” He mumbled, fingers playing with yours lightly where your hands were still hanging connected, and the whole experience was a little different. This wasn’t a near-miss kiss while high after the intimacy of drawing one another, nor was it holding hands in the rush to get to the laundry room while hopped up on adrenaline and a little embarrassment. “He’s a moron, and he didn’t deserve you. Neither did your friend, if she’d do something like that to you.”

“They deserve each other.”

“Atta’ girl.” He teased, squeezing your hand once more, before letting you go, and as you settled down onto the couch cushions, you had to try hard just to steady your racing heart as you scroll through movies on Netflix, perched happily along the couch, but it was a little chilly, the space heater was barely holding its own against the chill of the outside.

“You got any blankets?” You didn’t even bother turning your head as you shouted the words, still exploring the film choices, and this time, you went for something a little more exciting. A ‘Mission Impossible’ movie was always a hit, right? Everybody loves Tom Cruise.

“Yes, I do.” You jumped, never having heard him moving around, and he stood before you, a fluffy looking blanket bundled in his arms, and you made grabby-hands for it with a grin. He shook his head, slumping down beside you on the ouch, and you bounced a little with the movements he made. “What, you think I read your mind? This blanket is for me, but I might just share it with you.”

“Yeah, what’s the catch?”

“You have to smile, so I know you’re really okay.” You couldn’t help it, trying to bite back the grin on your face as you flushed with shy heat, and he whooped loudly upon seeing the expression. Spreading the blanket out across you both, his fingers brushed across your skin, tucking it around your thighs and over your waist as he and sure you were covered, before his arm was stretching out along the back of the couch behind you.

“You’re too smooth for your own good.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m incredibly awkward and not nearly as brave, usually.” You rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder against his but not bothering to say anything, and starting up the movie.

Tucking your legs underneath yourself, you adjusted the blanket, your feet cold as you lifted them up from the cooled flooring, and directing your attention over to your phone. It had been hours since you’d check it, since you'd even felt the need to know whether anyone else had been in touch with you, and even as that realisation came to mind, you still didn’t budge to collect it.

Earlier in the day, you had been bitter and wishing to be home, where you’d inevitably only be locked up tight in your own bedroom and watching movies to pass the time away, listening to Sophie and her boyfriend move around the apartment, trapped in permanently third-wheeling until the snow melted. Now, you were happy, knowing that you’d made a new friend, and that you were at least venturing back out into the world for the first time since having your heart broken.

A hand came down, fingers playing with the edges of your hair lightly, twirling a light strand between his fingers, and as you swept your gaze over the man a foot or so away from you on the couch, his eyes were still fixed on the screen of the television. His fingers brushed against your neck occasionally, and each time, you had to suppress the urge to shiver. It was an invitation, the changing for day to night once again shifting everything between you both, unspoken words to invite you closer, easy for you to choose to take, or not to take, and nothing would be said about it at all.

Your entire body ran over with goosebumps, and your fingers picked lightly at the blanket, unsure of which move you wanted to make. On the one hand, you could definitely take that step, move a little closer and risk falling into that again, or you could stay where you were, play it safe and not risk a thing. Fold your cards and wait for the next round.

“I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

You stood up, his hand falling away from yourself and the blanket laying down on the couch, and he nodded his head, a barely present smile on his face as he nodded his head, and you slipped away, giving yourself just a moment to think as you disappeared to the bathroom. Closing the door behind yourself, you leaned back against it, letting out a deep breath and trying to clear your mind, weighing the pros and cons of where this night might go.

Shaking yourself down a little, you felt the tension flee from your body, and you placed your hands onto the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror hanging over it. You were always playing it safe, always had, and maybe that’s why your ex had adventured and found excitement somewhere else, needing the thrill of it, because you never took risks.

If you hadn't taken a risk last night, you wouldn't be here now, and after all, you’d had a great day. Maybe it would blow up and backfire, maybe when the snow melted you’d never see him again, maybe it wouldn't work out, but you’d never know if you didn’t at least try.

“Oh, woman up. For once in your life.” You muttered, running the water and splashing a little of the cool liquid over your face, refreshing yourself with just how icy cold it was, a little hiss leaving you. Shaking your hands off and patting your face dry, you ran a hand through your hair, deciding you were ready. Uncapping the toothpaste, you took a small chunk from it on your finger, placing the blob onto your tongue and licking it around your mouth for freshness, doing the best you could to clean your teeth a little, before using your hands as a cup and rinsing with some water.

At least you felt a little fresher and more alluring now. A good confidence booster, because fuck it, you were all in.

Stepping back out into the main room, you undid the zipper on the hoodie of his that you’d borrowed, letting it hang open along the front, the thin satin of your camisole on display, the material falling away from one shoulder as it hung baggy on your body now that it was open. Upon your return, he turned to look at you, lips parting a little as his eyes flickered along your body, gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulder, your arms, the midriff shown between the edge of your top and the hem of your leggings, before his jaw was snapping shut, and he met your eyes again, only for a split second, before looking back to the movie.

Lifting the edge of the blanket, you sat a little closer to him than you had been before, your arm brushing against his side as you got comfy, and you heard him let out a slightly shaky breath, fingers tapping against the back of the couch, behind where your head had once been, now further down the couch as you sat close enough to smell the lingering aftershave on his skin.

Five long minutes passed, and you almost thought you’d overstepped, that he didn’t want this as much as you thought he would, that the connection was one-sided, but then his hand slipped down, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder on the side where the jacket had dipped down, nails scraping slightly, before the rest of his arm followed. Slipping it around your shoulders, his hand hung over you, playing lightly with the spaghetti strap of your top, running along the silky material, under it, playing with it in slow and absentminded patterns, and you contained yourself from celebrating out loud, or doing something that wouldn't be considered as ‘playing it cool’.

You paused, giving it just enough time, the feeling of roughened fingertips rubbing along your skin, and after a moment, you realised it was being inched a little further over. As the strap fell away, falling over your arm again, his movements paused, everything going still for just a second, before his fingertips were pressing to bare skin again. Twisting towards him a little more, you pressed up to his side, lifting a leg until the lower half of your legs were tangled together as they sat ahead of you, propped up on the coffee table.

He hummed a little under his breath, your head adjusting to rest on his shoulder, and he dared to reach his fingers a little lower than just along your shoulder, brushing as far as the undersides of your collarbones, and you cuddled in a little closer to him still.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” His words were gruff, voice low and gravelling as he kept his tone to just above a whisper, and you rolled your lips together for a second, trying to settle on your words.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, y’know, all the improvements I could make. I’ve been thinking about it.” You only hummed, fingers smoothing over his stomach and across towards his side until you were holding onto him, and the muscles underneath tensed and rippled under the soft cotton tee he was wearing. “But, I’d never really know if I was getting it right until I put it into practice.”

“Well, that does make sense.”

“Yeah, and I mean, I’d need someone who could tell me, give me real talk.” He was continuing on with the rouse, the playful energy between you both sparkling, and the movie was long-forgotten, simply becoming background noise.

“Makes sense. Someone to guide you as you go.”

“Exactly.” He mumbled, turning himself enough to drag the tip of his nose over your cheek, and you tipped your head back a little, making it easier for him as his lips brushed your cheek. “Know anyone up for the task?”

“I think I might know someone.” You whispered, hand coming up to lace into his hair, and he rumbled happily at the scrape of your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You promised, and he grinned, shifting enough to let his mouth slant across yours, a kiss that was more than overdue. Lifting a hand to sit on his jaw, he pressed into you a little further, one hand still behind the couch, while the other was sliding down to find your waist, the blanket falling away and the movie becoming nothing but background noise as his lips worked softly with your own.

You’d expected hot and sloppy, but he was taking it slower this time, sweet and passionate, not nearly as desperate as you’d been anticipating, and your heart was racing in your chest with the tenderness in which he kissed you. Once the blanket was kicked from your legs, his hand dipped a little lower, smoothing around your lower back, and pulling you in towards him until you could drape a leg over his thighs. Settling into his lap, both of hands were sitting low on your hips, teeth grazing along your lower lip as the what between you both seemed to double, and you pressed a little closer into him.

“Put your hands, just-” You took a hold of his wrists, lowering his hands a little, your forehead pressed to his as you pushed them around until he could hold fistfuls of your ass through your leggings, squeezing tightly, and you keened into his touch. Rocking your hips down into his own, you gasped, his grunt at the feeling being silenced as your lips closed back over his, and he hummed happily when your tongue dragged slowly against his.

For each rock you made down into him, his hips were jumping, small thrust upwards to meet you, and it became more frantic with every little movement. He was growing underneath you, the material of his sweats doing little to hide the hardening cock that seemed to twitch and jump each time you dragged your core along his length, even through the layers of material, and you could feel yourself growing wetter and weather, uncomfortably so the longer your went, but the pressure was perfect, an orgasm already beginning to grow within you.

When the burn for oxygen became too much, he pulled back, lips worked along your jaw slowly, soft sucks that weren’t hard enough to leave bruises but sent sparks of electricity and excitement flooding through you each time, nips at your skin as he worked his way down your neck, until he was biting teasingly at the shoulder with the strap of your top still hanging over your arm, bare skin exposed to him. “You know, not a criticism, just a compliment, but you really got kissing down to an art.”

He chuckled against your skin, a little breathless, but still enough to make you tremble at the feeling, before he was making his way back up to you, nose dragging over your skin until his mouth could brush against yours. “Is that so?”

“Totally.” You mumbled, your hand slipping into his hair to hold onto a fistful as his mouth crashed back into your own, and he put those skills to good use. He all but knocked the oxygen from your lungs with the intensity of it, leaving your head spinning and lungs burning but you were unable to pull away, the addictive way that his mouth worked with your own, so sensual and intimate that you were flaring up with heat, and you finally knew what it felt like when people said there were fireworks in a kiss, because you felt as though the fourth of July was exploding around you.

“Bedroom?”

“Absolutely.” You mumbled, having to tear yourself away from his kisses, diving back in a few times, before finally, you managed to pull yourself away. You took his hands in your own, pulling him up with you as the two of you moved, and his hands found your hips, guiding you in your backwards walking steps as he followed behind you; foreheads pressed together, occasionally pressing sweet kisses to one another, giggles shared into the air between you until you came to a stop in the doorway.

Turning around, you paused, more of a laugh erupting from you.

“First criticism, messy sheets is a turn off.” He sounded confused for a second, mouth leaving where he had been kissing along your neck, his head coming up to take a look, and he huffed a little.

“Right, yeah, forgot about that. Let me just-” He moved away, on side of the bed to straighten the blankets out, pushing the pillows back up to the top end of the bed, and you helped out, smoothing over them until the job was done haphazardly, but at least it least it was no longer messy, and he stood on the opposite side from you, hands on his hips for a second. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and taking the lower one prisoner as his gaze swept over you, His hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and you were certain that you looked exactly the same, the tension between the two of you sizzling. You couldn't handle it, the two of you meeting halfway as you knelt on the bed, his body colliding with yours and lips meeting in frenzied kisses as you connected again.

He reached a hand behind his head, tugging his shirt up and away from his body, a delicious display of flexing muscles and veiny forearms as he discarded of it, shaking the hair that flopped down into his face free.

“That was hot.”

“All I did was take off my shirt?” He whispered, pulling back when you tried to kiss him so that he could raise his brows in silent questioning.

“We like that. When you do that whole ‘taking your shirt off with one hand behind your head’ thing. Plus, you just looked good while doing it.” He looked down at himself, before back up to you, hands cupping your face to bring you in closer to him, and he pressed a series of pecks to your lips, until you were laughing lightly and pushing him back with hands spread over his chest.

He followed you as you stood, and you undid the rest of the zip on the hoodie, letting it fall open, and down your arms slowly, and he watched it go, until the material was crumpled in a pile around your feet. Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him backwards, until his knees were buckling against the mattress and he was sitting down, staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, waiting for your next move. With a finger under his chin, you tipped his face upwards, enough to be able to peck his lips, before you were stepping away from him.

Turning away, you heard him shuffling, the ruffling of material and the slight creaking of the bed, before it was silent, and you took a steadying breath. Crossing your arms over your middle, you tugged the satin top up slowly, brushing your own fingers over your skin, and you heard him groan behind you as it hit the floor, hair falling back down your back upon being freed from the material. Hooking your fingers into the edge of your leggings, you peeled them down your legs, bending at the waist, and removing them from your feet, slowly, before turning back to face him, clad only in your panties.

His eyes were half-lidded, and jaw hanging slack, only clad in his boxers now, but he was palming himself through the material as he sat propped up in the pillows, and you rounded to his side of the bed, one of his hands reaching out for you, and you took it, a gentle hold as his fingers weaved with yours.

“How was that?”

“So fucking hot.” He mumbled, the hand that he had been using to rub at his hard cock through his boxers came free, a wet patch left across the front of the pale checkered fabric, precum soaking into them and your thighs clenched at the idea of having that effect on him. Running the tip of one finger under the waistband of your panties, he tugged you a little closer to him still, before snapping the elastic against your skin. “What about these?”

“Figured you might want to do that.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth, before meeting his gaze again, only a split second slip, but he was smirking, clearly having seen it. Before you could even process what he was doing, his arms had wrapped around your middle, twisting you around and lifting you to lay in the bed beside where he had been, your head in the pillows and his arms holding him up on either side of you, and you panted a little, the yelp that had left you making you breathless.

“Holy shit.”

“Couldn’t help it. You say dirty things and it makes me feel a little wild.” His legs were caging you in, moving lower and lower as he kissed his way over your collarbones, lips and tongue leaving wet trails between your breasts as he lowered himself further and further.

“Wild is good. I like wild.”

“Hm, I hope so.” He whispered the words, tongue grazing along the sensitive skin above your panties, before he was tapping at your hips with his fingers, and you were lifting them for him to shimmy your panties down. Once you were bare before him, you grew a little shy once again, legs snapping shut, and he chuckled, a hand landing on each knee, and he pressed kisses along the tops of your thighs. “Please don’t be shy, gorgeous. You’re so damn beautiful, you have nothing to be shy about.”

Squeezing his hands at your knees, you twitched a little, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to peer down at him, and he grinned, pressing a kiss to your stomach, before leaning up and pressing an equally quick but sweet kiss to your lips.

“Open up your pretty legs for me, yeah?”

You couldn't hold back, the way he was talking to you and touching you, loving caresses that soothed your nerves, and he groaned under his breath as your slick core was revealed to him. Legs bending at the knees, you planted your feet flat on the bedding, and he was able to settle on his stomach between them, hot breath fanning over your core.

His arms wrapped around your thighs, fingertips digging into them roughly, and he rubbed a hand up and down them slowly, the twitching in your gut coming to a still as he still managed to find time and sentience to ease your nerves as he pressed his mouth in sweet kisses along the insides of your thighs, biting a little at the top and chuckling as he felt you jerk in surprised shock. Lacing a hand into his hair just as his mouth moved to close over your core, you tugged lightly, his eyes flickering up to find yours. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Did I mess something up?”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” Your words were panted out, and you were trembling while holding yourself up, but you shook your mind clear, trying to focus enough to break through the haze. “Just wanted to say thank you. You’re being such a sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this confident before, so before my mind completely clears, I wanted to say that.”

He paused, a look flicking over his features to expose that he clearly didn’t expect that, and there was a much more adoring smile on his face as he processed your words. “It’s my pleasure, you’re worth it, and you deserve a guy to treat you like the special and incredible woman that you are.”

You choked a little on your breath, unsure of how to reply, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding your head, before pushing his back down a little. “Okay, enough heart-to-heart crap. You can continue now.”

“As you wish, princess.”

He dragged his tongue once along your core slowly, and you took a sharp inhale of breath, the feeling of a hot and wet mouth working over you was something that you’d sorely missed, and while Joel had gone down on you yesterday too, this would be so much better and you already knew it. Instead of rushed and nervous, it was erotic and confident, sure in your movements, and sure that he could be the best you’d ever had, you could tell just from the way this night was going so far, that these memories would be burned in your mind for the rest of your life.

Rubbing a thumb over your clit, he chuckled at the way your thighs trembled slightly, before he was pulling away, diving in to replace his finger with his mouth. Lips sucking at the little bud, your fingers tightened in his hair, back arching at the feeling, and he licked over the bud, before repeating the process. Again, and again, and then, he was replacing his movements. Tongue flicking out, rapid kitten licks over the bud, and you squealed a little, thighs clamping around his head as you did, and you whined a little.

“Wait, Joel!” He paused after a moment, your entire body still tingling with the feeling of his mouth, but your legs loosened as he pulled them open, brows raising at you, and slick was already glistening on his chin. “Good, but can be better. Start slow, don’t go right in, tease me a little. Speed up when I’m closer, okay?”

“I thought girls hated being teased?”

“We can love it, if you do it right. You’ll know when to speed up, okay? Start slow, add a finger, then another, speed up when I’m getting close.” He nodded his head, a lopsided smile on his face, and he was taking your advice. He started slow, a long and torturous drag of his tongue over your core, and then again, before his tongue circled your entrance for a moment, barely dipping inside long enough to matter, but then he lapped at your core again. Lips sealing around your clit, he sucked harshly, your back arching up from the bed, your free hand finding purchase tangling in the bedding, and you moaned, loudly. “Fuck, yes, Joel. Just like that.”

He groaned into your body, the feeling reverberating along your skin, and one hand moved from your thigh, slipping along and disappearing from your skin until the tip of one nimble digit was circling your entrance, rubbing lightly across your weeping hole. Filthy sounds were already filling the room, and your mind was going completely blank, the only thing you could process right now was the movements of his mouth against you, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you crazy as you bucked up into him, holding his face against your core as he slurped and sucked at every drop you had to release.

Slipping that finger into you, he had clearly taken our tip on teasing, because he only sunk it within you to the first knuckle, barely present at all, and yet your walls were clamping around him greedily, desperately trying to draw him deeper in as you felt him twist it a little, circling the finger and beginning to stretch you out, crooking it at the knuckle and tugging a little in your entrance as he began to pump it. A cry of his name left you as he bit down on your swollen clit lightly, the bud throbbing in response, and your entire body jumped at the sensation, loving the way he was taking control with it now.

Each time his finger dipped back into you, he sank a little further, his finger and tongue working in harmony, the same pace with their movements, and your entire body was layered in a thin sheen of shining sweat as he took you apart piece by piece. His hips were grinding down into the covers as he worked, the rustling of the covers giving it away, and he was grunting and growling against your every so often, his eyes closed as he enjoyed his motions just as much as you did, and you forced your hand free from him hair as you realised just how tight your fist had gotten. Just when you thought you might be getting used to this feeling, that you might be able to clear the fog in your mind enough to think straight, he sensed it, upping his ministrations.

“Fuck, Joel!” The coil in your stomach wound up ten times tighter in a matter of seconds as that dull tingling at your entrance made itself known, a second finger taking you by surprise as it plunged inside of you, and your back arched up so high your hips followed, borderline screaming as he picked up his pace. “I-I’m going to-”

“Come? Do it, come on, gorgeous. Give me all you got.” Faster movements, the tandem between his fingers and his mouth going to shit, as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, but his tongue was picking up his pace again. Switching between sucking and licking, you could barely process what was happening each time, and tears lined your eyes as you felt fire beginning to consume you.

Heat flooded your body, bliss filling every cell in your body and coursing through you until it was all-consuming, and you unravelled against him in a fit of squirming screams, his hands holding you to his mouth as he rode you through the pleasure, two fingers stretching you wide and scissoring you open each time, never giving up on his movements until you couldn't take it anymore.

You pushed him away, panting and gasping for breath, and his eyes were blown with lust as he pulled away, cheeks and chin shining with your arousal, your hand falling over your chest, feeling the erratic beating of your heart under your palm as your eyes closed, trying to contain the way you were feeling. Your throat was already scratchy, growing rough from the calls and cries of his name that you’d released.

“Good?”

“Is that even a question?” You teased, and he collapsed down into the bed beside you, wiping the back of his hand over his jaw, before you leaned in to kiss him, taking his lips with your own, and he let out a needy sound into your mouth as you did. He was rubbing at his jaw, pressing his lips lazily with your own as you kissed him, and he pressed you back down into the bed, leaning over you and letting his body press into yours.

One hand moved to his boxers, pushing them down, kicking them away until they were removed from his body. Leaning over you, a dripping cock brushed along your thigh, your leg raising up a little to rub against him, and he grunted into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip in warning, as he rooted through the nightstand to find a condom. Upon retrieving the package, he sat back on his heels, tearing it with his teeth and throwing the wrapper to the ground, a problem to be dealt with later, and he rolled the rubber along his length.

Long and flushed red, his cock was standing tall and proud, and you rubbed your thighs together a little, watching as he pumped himself slowly, eyes dragging over your body. You could see the cogs working in his mind, before he backed away from you entirely. Moving to the switch on the wall, he turned down the lights, leaving them on a little, but lowering them to a more comfortable level.

“Compromise?”

“I can work with that.” You offered, holding your hands out to him, and the bed bounced a little as he came to laying over the top of you. One leg was pressed between yours, and you shuffled, pressing yourself down against the muscle of his thigh, and a deep sound bubbled up from within him as you rode yourself against his thigh, kissing along his neck, and his head tipped back.

“For the record, I like hickies.”

You paused, a beat passing, before your mouth was sealing over the patch where his neck joined his shoulders, and he groaned loudly as you sucked at the skin harshly. Tipping his head back, his arms trembled a little dipping down until your chests were pressed together, and with every rolled of your core against his leg, your chest dragged over his, the friction making your nipples grown perky, and you whimpered into his neck, lapping at the spot you were abusing.

When you were finished, you pressed a sweet kiss over it, purple already beginning to blossom beneath the splotchy red on his pale skin, and he let out a shaky breath. Brushing your thumb over it, you smirked at the mark you’d made, before finally looking back up to him. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you took his cock in your hand, pumping slowly and watching as his jaw dropped slightly, before you were shifting your legs to accommodate his body and lining his length up at your core.

He rocked forwards, sinking into you slowly, and just like that, everything went fuzzy around you once again. It was like he was your only focus, everything was falling away until it was only him that remained, and your hands found his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss you. You were drowning in his touch, his hips nestled against your own as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size with you, that same twinge of an ache you’d felt this morning coming back in full force, but overpowered by the racing lust that was taking over.

When you felt ready, you clenched around him, curling your hips and feeling his cock shift within you, a gasp falling from you as the head of his cock brushed over your g-spot, and he took that chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hot and wet, everything felt like it was in overdrive as you lit up, and his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head as he began to shift, hips drawing out of you, before sinking back in, and he took his time, moving slowly and waiting for you to tell him when he could speed up.

Lifting a leg up and onto his hip, he sank even deeper within you, your walls fluttering around him as you let out joint sounds of pure ecstasy, and his movements stuttered for only a moment at the feeling. One hand came down, fingertips digging into the muscle of your thighs so tightly that you’d be speckled with little polka dot bruises come morning, a sinful thought that made you head spin. You felt carefree, for the first time in your life, there was no doubts or anxiety, just the way it felt to be touched and cared for by him, the way his gaze swept so delicately over your face, or the way his lips puckered a little, curling up at the sides in a smile when your mouth pressed to his.

Hooking your hands under his arms, you encouraged him on, nails digging into his skin and dragging tracks into the flesh, his back arching up to push into your touch, and his pace began to pick up. He took his time, building the pace, and you’d never felt like this before. A high you’d never experienced was beginning to set in, your hips moving in time to match his thrusts.

He was panting into your mouth, hot and erotic as your foreheads remained pressed together, his lashes tickling against your cheeks, and every soft moan of your name that he let out made you want to scream out with pure bliss, because the way his voice cracked around your name made everything within you crumble. He made you weak, he made you completely fall apart, and you weren’t sure how or why, yet you found yourself loving it.

It was raw and exposed, your heart and soul open to him, and instead of crushing it like you’d grown to expect from everyone around you, he was taking care of it. You pushed up into him, pleasure surging through you, broken stutters of his name as he fucked into you, hard and fast, driving deep, and the tip of his cock was pressing to your g-spot each time, pinpoint accuracy as you weren't sure if he even knew that he was making stars flash behind your eyes.

“Joel, don’t stop! I’m so close!”

You moved, licking over two fingers, and making to slip them between your bodies to find your clit, to spur your orgasm on as best you could, but as you moved, he lifted a hand, snatching yours in his own and pinning it to the bed, and a loud moan rippled through you from the dominance he asserted. He seemed almost surprised, for only as second, before his brows were raising. “You liked that, huh? Shoulda’ told me.”

“That’s not general advice, you wanted general advice.”

He shook his head, leaning back down to brush the tip of his nose over your own. “Maybe I’d prefer it if you tailored the advice to yourself specifically. Tell me how to drive you wild.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, I like it when you take control of me a little bit.” He nodded his head, seeming to catch on, and he sat back leaving you laying in the bed as the angle changed. Two fingers prodded at your lips, and he raised his brows, waiting for you to draw them into your mouth, wetting the digits thoroughly for him. When he deemed them sufficiently slick, he pulled them back, trailing them down along your body, before pressing down roughly onto the neglected bud between your thighs, crying out for attention to push you over the edge.

As you tumbled into that bliss, he continued going, until your body was jerking and quivering underneath him, and you were crying out his name, clenching so hard around his cock that his head fell back as he gripped at your thigh with his other hand, kneeling between your parted legs and tucked snugly between your spasming walls. “Jeez, you’re so fucking tight.”

He collapsed down over you, sweaty and warm, covering your body with his entirety as he tried to catch his breath, and your eyes were still rolled back in your head, coming back to focus as you slipped back down to earth from the heaven he'd taken you to. “That was incredible.”

“You bet your cute little ass it was.”

You chuckled, feeling him shuffle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Locking your knees on either side of his hips, you flipped him over, his eyes wide as he found himself on his back, your hand finding his cock as you sank back down, shivering at the feeling as the aftermath of your last orgasm was still racing through you, and he let out a long and deep sound that vaguely resembled your name, hands finding your waist and pulling you the rest of the way down as he fucked up into you.

“You don’t have to, really-”

“You know, you’re pretty much the first guy I’ve ever been with who didn’t come first, and who genuinely cared about my pleasure.” Your nails scratched over his chest a little, making him shudder at your touch, before you were leaning down, hair drawing around you both, and he stared up at you in awe. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He nodded, a hand tangling toughly in your hair, and he pulled you backwards, sitting up with you in his lap so that your legs could wrap around his waist more fully, your arms looping his neck, holding you as close as he possibly could. You whined at the feeling of your stinging scalp, loving the way he was manhandling you now, and he knew it too, his lips descending to your throat as he used his other hand to guide the movements of your hips.

“Tell me what to do, I don’t go on top a lot. Tell me what’s good, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” You were pleading with him, desperate to know how you could make him feel as good as you’d made him.

“What you’re doing right now is good.” He mumbled, but as you rolled your hips back down into his with what little space there was, his lips moving over your body until he could lean you back, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking one perky bud into his mouth. You cried out his name, his fist tangled into your hair to hold you still, and you tried to form thoughts, your first attempts at speaking coming out as broken stutters.

“Please, Joel..”

“Please what, gorgeous? Tell me what you need.” He cooed the words out, and you let out a desperate sound, your hips slamming down into his, and your hands found his chest, pushing him back into the bed, hearing the rush of breath he let out.

“Tell me what you want.”

He stared at you, blinking those beautiful brown eyes for a second, before giving in. “Honestly, I just want you to ride me like a pornstar. Go fucking wild, it’s so fucking sexy. When your tits bounce, and you slam yourself onto my cock, hair messy and a little sweaty, that's what I want.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly and bracing yourself on his chest, before you moved more solidly onto your knees, beginning to bounce against him. His jaw dropped, watching the movements of your chest, watching as you leaned back to show off the bouncing of your breasts before him as you built your confidence, and after getting past your anxieties, you were faced with the raging build of confidence that came with being on top.

He was staring at you like you’d put the lights in the sky, and you were, for once, glad that there were lights on to see him and for him to see you, to watch every movement you were making, because pure thrill was written on his face, adoration and lust as he stared, before you were taking one of his hands. Dragging it over your body, you sealed his fingers around one of your tits, pushing into his hands when he took control, fingers tweaking with your nipples, and he raised the other to do that same.

You were close, and you could tell he was too, the breathless way that he was beginning to chant your name on repeat, the way you were sure that the feeling of his cock tapping against every spot within you was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life, and the look on his face as he finally neared that peak.

“You look so fucking good. Taking what you want, riding me, absolutely perfect up there.”

“Only because that's how you want to see me, right now.” You whispered, and he shook his head, his hands finding your hips, waiting for you to lift yourself up, and as you did, he slammed you back down onto him, meeting you as he fucked up into you, and your body fell forwards in shock, barely catching yourself before your forehead hit his own, breath shared between you once again. His feet adjusted on the bed, bending at the knee to sit flat and he set a brutal pace, driving the both of you towards your final peak and he drilled into you.

Your eyes crossed, vision spotting, and a scream of his name was torn from you with force as you crashed into yet another earth-shattering orgasm at his touch, the sound of his cries of complete joy seeming muffled as he chased after you over the cliff, falling into orgasmic bliss. He rode the pair of you out, strained and weakening movements as your bodies trembled together, until finally, he stopped, completely sent off all energy, and you collapsed against his chest.

His heart was thudding against his chest under your cheek, your nails scratching lightly at the patch of dark hairs between lightly defined pecs, and he wrapped his arms around you. Rolling you to the side, he was reluctant to leave the bed, letting out a loud sound of distaste ta having to do so, but didn’t travel far, simply far enough to undo the rubber on his cock and tie it up, wrapping it in some tissues and dropping the crumpled heap into the bin.

When he came back over, he lay down beside you on his back, one hand under his head and the other stretched out towards you. As you lay on your stomach, shuffling closer to him, you lifted yourself onto your elbows, peering down at him with a small smile. “So, that was, like, the best sex ever. Right?”

You grinned, head ducking to hide the bashful expression you wore, but you were laughing nonetheless. “Ever.”

“I wish all girls were as cool as you. Like, sex would just be so much better if everyone just had that kind of communication, because, holy shit, that was mindblowing.” His hand came up beside his head, making an exploding noise as his fingers made the motion, as though his head really had exploded, and you grinned, feeling his fingers brush over your skin as he lowered it back down.

Quiet fell between you both, but it was comfortable, nice and easy-going, and you weren’t sure how to break the silence now, but neither was he, though it didn’t matter. When the temperatures that had risen in your body during your sinful act began to come back down, you found yourself cold once again, tucking yourself under the blankets and curling in a little closer to him, fingers brushing through his hair to distract yourself as he lay, staring up at you.

“Y’know, you said something, during it all..”

“You told me to give you advice! Don’t get pissy about it now.” Your joke was taken in good spirits, a loud laugh leaving him, and the burning gaze he’d mixed you with was broken for a few moments as his eyes closed to revel in his amusement, but when the laughter died down, he was looking at you again, with just as much intensity.

“Not that. You said you only thought you only looked good because I wanted you to look good.” His hand found your cheek, forcing you to find his gaze as he spoke. “That wasn’t true. You’re so fucking beautiful, and just because one dumbass broke your heart, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think of yourself as not being worthy. It only leads to more heartbreak. Don’t let his stupid actions take away from your value.”

“You know, you’re real wise on all this stuff.” His thumb brushed over your lips, and you puckered your lips to press a kiss to the pad of the finger. “Who broke your heart, Joel?”

“What makes you think I’ve had my heart broken?”

“Takes one to know one.” You whispered, and he let out a little sigh, gaze trailing off to stare at the ceiling.

“Her name was Aimee. We were together in high-school. We got into different colleges, and I was so sure we could make a long-distance thing work.” You cringed a little, keeping it internal, already guessing where this was going, but letting him talk. “We did phone calls and video chats, and I went to see her so often, every chance I could, in first year. But then second year came, and everything got busy, and I didn’t get to see her as often as I would’ve liked. I was waiting for the summer break to go and see her. When I got there, things were different, she told me it had changed, that she’d fallen for someone else and just didn’t know how to tell me. She figured we’d just fizzle out, that we had been fading. We broke up officially, but, it didn’t hurt her as much as it hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“That’s alright.” He murmured, fingers tracing up and down your arm, and you settled into a comfortable quiet once again.

You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, but you were growing rather fond of the man, your hookup having become so much more. The snow, the cold weather, two broken hearts and a stupid hook up site, and suddenly, you’d found someone who had managed to change your life in a lot of little ways, all in just twenty-four hours.

You turned, finding the man already watching you, lips curled up in a sweet smile and eyes lazily drooped, simply watching you as the thoughts and feelings raced through your mind, and yet, under his gaze, they all seemed to go silent. The worries, the constant surge of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ all faded away, and you reached out a finger, tapping at the tip of his nose.

His expression somehow managed to morph into something even sweeter, practically giving you a toothache as his nose scrunched up adorably, before he was folding both hands under his head, moving to tangle his legs with yours, and simply sighing a little.

Golden and low lighting made his features seemed a little sharper, shadows on his face highlighting his jaw, cheekbones standing prominent and hair darker, and you knew just how soft it was, strands pushed back out of his face by you. The dark mark on his neck was making itself known now, and you were sure your own body would soon be littered in them, and you would check them all out with pride in the morning.

You turned to look at him again, drawing yourself back out of the spiral in your mind you’d once again fallen victim to, and meeting his gaze with a heatless huff. “What are you staring at?”

“Just.. you.” His brows pulled together a little, eyes sweeping across your face again in a way that made you feel raw and on the edge of your emotions. He lifted a hand, pushing your hair away behind your ears, before settling a hand over your jaw, and stroking his thumb across your skin slowly and soothingly.

“Yeah, well, don’t.” You whispered, voice cracking, and your gaze left his, but his touch never fell away, even when you tried to duck your head. “Don’t look at me like that, not unless you plan to act on it.”

“Oh, I would love to act on it. When this snow melts, I’d like to act on it properly.”

“Like.. a date?” You questioned, eyes flicking up to his for only a moment, and he was beaming what you did, toothy smile showing off his joy for only you to see.

“Exactly like a date, if you’ll have me?”

“Depends.” You murmured, shuffling in closer to him for warmth. “Can I share the bed with you tonight, or are you kicking me back out to the couch?”

He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you down into his chest as the pair of you laughed, cocooning yourselves in the blankets with a series of rolls and twists, until you pressed up tightly together and locked in such a way. “There, now you’re not going anywhere.” He dipped down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one that you were eager to reciprocate. “Me and the bed are all yours, gorgeous.”

“I like the sound of that.”

#joel dawson #joel dawson x reader #joel dawson x reader smut #joel dawson/reader #joel dawson/reader smut #joel dawson love and monsters #dylan obrien joel dawson #dylan obrien love and monsters #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #12 Days of AUmas

[dr3amofagame]

hey pspsps i found this thing n twitter and i cant get it out of my head,, so dreams escape right? and sapnap said that he'd be the one who'd take dreams last life rgiht? so imagine if he gets ant, bad and george and tells them "its the final manhunt" (:

im ngl the name of this on my document was “the final manhunt *offkey kazoo*” 

with that, have some good ol’ post-prison c!dream angst! probably not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway :D 

tw: implied torture, abuse, dark portrayals of c!sam and c!quackity, suicide/suicide implications, panic attacks, emotional distress, emotional instability, death threats, violence, flashbacks, pandora’s vault/prison arc

When Dream escapes the prison, he is a frothing thing of spite and rage, one part human and ninety-nine parts determination simmered and condensed over high heat; there is anger and then there’s this, the fire that leaps to his eyes and the shaking shreds of a battered heart he holds close to his chest and refuses to let anyone close enough to see. He moves and the server moves with him, tugged along by his iron will and sweat-slick desperation, joining in the brilliant blue whirl of a diamond axe swung recklessly and slammed into the dirt, an aimless fury following each formless drive of the blade into grass and gravel. The air sings danger and the air sings wrong and every step closer brings a ringing scream of away away go away that dances like static electricity against their skin.

Puffy follows, cutlass strapped to her hip and hair tucked messily beneath the rim of her cornet as the group advances - someone had alerted over comms about seeing the escaped prisoner in this direction, and they’d all jumped forward in the hopes that the weeks-long manhunt could finally be ended. Sapnap leads the way, headband whipping behind him as he strides forward, jaw clenched in fierce determination; George brings up the rear, bow in hand, a full quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Puffy’s running alongside Sam, who has been strangely tight-lipped the entire time Dream has been gone, firm in his insistence that the prisoner be detained but saying little else - it’s something that she would pry at, usually, but her head is filled with half-formed regrets and fears and a bubbling undercurrent of anger she’s afraid will come loose if she opens her mouth, so she stays silent as they run ever forward.

Sapnap yells, and her head snaps up - there, in the tall grass of a plains biome lies a flash of orange that must be Dream. The hunters around her speed up and she strains to follow; the other three are clearly experienced, easily falling into step with each other as she scrambles to keep up. Dream’s head snaps over towards them and he begins to sprint, cutting a line through the yellow field as they race to follow. She’s not seen him since the prison break, has only heard the whispers- an orange clothed monster, all bones and skin and uncaged fury, a diamond axe heaved in his arms slamming against anything that comes too close. It’s hard to rationalize this untamed, unrefined dash to the unwavering calm that she had always associated with his style of fighting, his movements much more like the life-or-death escape of a hunted rabbit than any hunter’s dog. It’s hard to rationalize this Dream with the one she knows- but well, she’s gotten used to that.

It took her far too long to admit, but she’s come to realize that she doesn’t quite know Dream at all.

He leads them forward to the shorter grass and harsher dips and planes of a savannah, the sun beating down in slanting heat against the backs of their necks. The ground they’re standing on begins to shatter into steep cliffs and jagged mountains, rough edges of stone climbing into the sky all around them. Sapnap curses, shading his eyes against the sun.

“He’s going up there,” he says, and George sends arrows flying towards the orange dot blurring across the steep face of a nearby mountain. Sam grumbles as Puffy strains to catch sight of him, watching his scrambling movements up the cliff face to the top.

“Then we follow,” he says, pulling a stack of ender pearls from his inventory. “Each person take a few. We’re too close to lose him now.”

The climb is anything but pleasant, the sun right overhead and making sweat gather at her hairline and drip down her face. Even as a sheep hybrid, she struggles to keep pace with the other hunters as they race over thin paths of granite and clamber up near-vertical faces of stone with little problem, clearly practiced as they follow Dream without breaking their sprint. The rock gives way to dirt and tufts of short-shorn grass and Sapnap’s eyes flash.

“Be careful,” he says, looking straight at her. “He’s cornered - that’s when he does risky shit without thinking about the consequences. He knows you’re the least experienced here and there’s a good chance that he’s going to charge you. If that happens, hold your shield and just block. We’ll handle him from there.”

She swallows back the spark of indignation that rises at his words, a bitter scream that they only see her as a liability dying out as she reminds herself that these three had hunted Dream professionally before, had struggled even with two more at their sides. The caution is far from unwarranted.

“I understand.”

Sapnap nods tersely and looks to the other two with a hand movement that she doesn’t understand. The other two immediately start moving, Sam moving to the front, George nocking an arrow as he takes his place at the rear - they’re still shielding her, she realizes with a small spike of annoyance again, shaking her head and drawing her own cutlass as Sapnap leads the way for them to swing up onto the top of the mountain.

It takes her a moment to adjust; the wind, unhindered by the cliffs that had been shielding them seconds before, whips at her face and draws tears to her eyes, makes her hair fly wildly into her face. Through narrowed eyes, she watches as the figure on the other side of the mountaintop scrambles backwards, diamond axe braced in front of him as he backs to the opposite edge.

“Dream,” Sapnap calls, voice deadly calm. “You’re cornered. Stand down.”

Dream shakes his head, lips curling in a wordless snarl. The sound is desperate, almost inhuman, making Puffy’s hair stand on end. As her vision clears, she stops dead in her tracks despite herself - Dream looks awful. She’d expected him to look disheveled after his escape, hadn’t expected much comfort in his stay in the Vault, but the way he looks, now, hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks and skinny, shaking limbs that only barely seem to be able to hold up his weight, bandages covering every visible inch of skin, wrapped messily around his right arm as if done by one hand - she reaches forward unconsciously and Dream flinches back.

“Don’t-” his voice rasps, cracks, falls in on itself as he wets his lips to try and speak again. “Don’t come closer.”

“Prisoner,” Sam growls, stepping forward, and he turns those wild, fever-bright eyes towards the creeper hybrid, flailing backwards and knuckles white from the grip on his axe. His breathing visibly hitches, head whipping back and forth.

“Don’t come closer,” he hisses again, stepping back, and Puffy stills.

“Sam-” she grabs his sleeve. “Sam- don’t. He’s at the edge.”

Dream’s gaze swings to her, and her heart stutters at the uncaged, obvious fear raging in his eyes. He’s backed to the very back edge of the mountain they’re standing on, left foot halfway off, sending dirt skidding over and off of the cliff down down down to the ground hundreds of feet below. The three hunters stop, muscles tensed, and Dream bares his teeth at them but doesn’t back away further.

His shoulders sag as they stand, stagnant, each huddled on their own side of the mountaintop. His gaze is venomous, green eyes burning even in the glaring light of the sun, flicking warily between their faces as he holds the axe between them.

“So you came,” his voice is tight, a slight tremble pulling at the end despite his seeming bravado. “Here to finish the job, huh?”

Sapnap pulls back his shoulders. “I made a promise, Dream.”

Dream laughs, bitter. His left hand releases on the axe handle to come to his chest, grabbing at his right, looking almost like he’s trying to hold himself. His laughter tapers off into something weak and wrecked, and the sound makes Puffy’s heart clench uncomfortably in her chest.

“Figures you’d keep that one,” his head tips up, looking Sapnap in the eye. “What- did your fiance give up? The revive book not worth the effort anymore?”

Sapnap hisses. “Don’t bring Karl into this-”

“Karl?” Dream’s eyes flash, grip tightening on his upper arm. “No- what? Why-”

“Dream.” Sam’s voice is low, something dark buzzing behind his tone, “Don’t-”

Puffy interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder, stepping forward and freezing mid-step when Dream’s head whips to her, eyes widening and foot scraping against the edge of the cliff again.

“Sapnap, Sam, let him talk,” she levels her gaze at Dream, trying to pick out the emotions warring behind those brilliant green eyes. “Not Karl- you’re talking about Quackity then, right?”

Sam hisses, “Puffy, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

Dream laughs.

The sound is grating, awful, making her hands come to her ears. It rips through skin, wraps around bone, seeps into marrow - he’s laughing, axe disappearing into his inventory so he can clutch his face with both hands, the loose sleeves of his prison uniform falling to his elbows to reveal the bandages wrapping all the way up his forearms and disappearing further under the fabric. In front of her, Sapnap falters, grip on his sword loosening; George steps back, eyebrows wrinkled, bow lowering. Dream laughs like the world is ending, and some cold, hardened thing in her chest shatters at the sound.

“You know,” his hands claw at his hair, wrapping around the strands and pulling, “You know you know you know- you have to know. How-” He shakes his head, tugging at his hair harshly and making Puffy wince at the sight, “Don’t- don’t play stupid here.”

“Know what?” George reaches forward, hands empty, palms up like he’s approaching an injured dog. From the way Dream snaps at the sound, hackles raised and teeth bared, he might as well be one. “Dream, what are you talking about?”

Sapnap looks stricken, still, face clouded in a way that Puffy can’t decipher. “Q- don’t play your mind games here, Dream,” despite his words, he sounds uncertain. Puffy hasn’t seen Quackity around for a while, had thought that he was staying at Sapnap and Karl’s new place. From the way Sapnap’s eyes have darkened, it looks like she assumed wrong. “Quackity hasn’t even been around, what does he have to do with any of this?”

Dream shakes his head again, seemingly stuck in his own head, barely even responding to their words. “You know- you know you know you know- Sam knows- you-” His breath hitches, chest heaving, and Puffy blinks. He’s having a panic attack, a clinical, much more calm part of her says as Dream seems to collapse in on himself. “You know. You have to know he wouldn’t- nobody came if you didn’t know then why didn’t you come if you didn’t know then why did Sam let him in you know you know you know-”

“Sam?” George turns to Sam, hands curling into fists and then uncurling again and again, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Sam’s expression is unreadable, ignoring George as he looks back at Dream. “Prisoner,” and has he called him by his name, yet? “Come with us calmly and your punishment will be lightened. There’s nowhere to run. Give up.”

Dream keens, a high-pitched whine exiting his lungs, “I won’t- I won’t tell,” his voice cracks, tears clearly running down his cheeks, “I won’t tell you Quackity I won’t-”

“Sam,” Puffy turns to the hybrid. “I think you should go.”

“Puffy-”

“He’s having a panic attack, Sam. He’s hardly going to do anything.” She levels a glare at him, sheathing her cutlass at her side. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, and I’ve promised to help anyone having a mental health crisis on the server.” Something dark and traitorous whispers how she’d given up on Dream before, and she pushes it down.

“He’s a danger to everyone on the server.”

“Sam- he’s not fucking breathing right now on the edge of a cliff. He’s not a danger to anyone but himself.”

“She’s right, Sam,” Puffy’s head snaps to George. He’s looking at her, expression hidden behind his glasses, lips pressed together in a small frown. “Puffy, we’ll be waiting. You or Sapnap call if you need back-up.”

She nods tersely, watches as Sam gives in and follows George down the mountain, the hybrid’s red eyes still staring at Dream as he leaves. Sapnap seems distracted, hardly acknowledging their exchange with his eyes fixed on Dream’s crumpled form, emotions clearly warring over his face, and Puffy brushes past him to get to her patient- Dream.

“Dream,” she speaks, not moving forward when his shoulders seize. “Dream, I won’t move closer unless you want me to,” she enunciates the words clearly, watching his face for any flash of recognition or understanding. He shakes his head minutely at her words, arms trembling, but he doesn’t move closer to the edge. “Can you hear me?”

He nods jerkily, and she smooths the palms of her hands on her pants, trying to calm the race of her heart in her chest.

“Good, very good,” years of training, habit, flood her head, pushing away the buzzing unease and fear and tangled knot of dark feelings that linger every time she sees Dream’s face, “I need you to breathe for me, okay? We’re going to inhale for four- there you go,” she counts, watching the shuddering movement of his chest as he struggles to replicate her movements, “Very good, hold for four, there you go- you’ve got this-”

Slowly, painfully, the rattle of his lungs in his chest becomes something quieter, more manageable, no longer rising and falling in desperate arrhythmic wheezes that make her chest hurt in sympathy. She’s still kneeling there, hands palms-up when he looks up at her, eyes wide, a degree of lucidity having returned to them, and for a moment a flash of fear stabs through her heart.

She swallows it down, pulling forward every ounce of professionalism she can muster. “Dream,” she keeps her voice low and soft, biting her lip at the way he freezes, again, at the call of his name. “Dream, can you step away from the edge?”

His hands clutch at the line of grass and dirt that make up the sod overhang, knuckles white. His eyes keep staring in hers, wide and wet and green, and she shushes him softly under her breath.

“It’s ok, take your time,” she breathes, watching as his hand inches forward bit by bit, gaze still fixed on her face, “It’s okay, Duckling.”

She blinks, and there’s a whirl of orange flying towards her chest; Sapnap shouts behind her, and panic blooms in her head too quickly for her to pick out anything but a desperate little oh god I’m going to die-

The blow never comes.

Instead, she looks down, heart in her throat, at a sobbing, shaking lump pressed against her chest, head buried in the crook over her neck as dirty, tangled hair falls in waves over her shoulder. She freezes, watching as his shoulders shake, hands tangled in her shirt sleeve, barely able to hear the words he’s saying over his wails and her heart thudding in her ears.

“Please don’t bring me back,” he pleads, voice cracking, “Please- please I don’t wanna go back please tell Sapnap to make it quick please I can’t go through another Quackity visit please Puffy don’t let them send me back-”

“Dream-”

“I’ll- I won’t fight, I pr’mise, Sapnap can keep his promise it’s okay I won’t fight anymore I’m-” he keens, high-pitched and mangled, into her shoulder, “I’m so tired Puffy.”

“Duckling,”

“Don’ make me go back, please.”

Puffy pulls him back, presses her hand on his cheek, murmuring softly. And- maybe she shouldn’t be doing this, maybe Dream’s a danger just like Sam said, maybe she’ll come to regret helping him the same way she had before - but right now he’s in pain and he’s crying and he’s closer than he’s been in so, so long and all she can see is her duckling, hurting, her duckling, home.

“Dream,” she brushes her thumb against his cheek, smooths a lock of hair behind his ear. “What happened in there?”

And he begins to speak.

#tw torture #tw abuse #c!quackity critical #c!sam critical #not really for either but they are portrayed dark #tw suicide #tw suicidal thoughts #tw panic attack #tw emotional distress #tw emotional instability #tw death threats #tw violence #tw flashbacks #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

[kirschteinsj]

Pinky Promises

Nanami x fem! reader

Warnings: nothing too much! maybe language but overall just a bunch of fluff and lovey dovey stuff 

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Domestic Nanami and reader, just thinking about how much they love each other. sappy and cute stuff.

A/N: Hi! ^_^ Second time posting, I’ve had this one shot saved for a bit now! finally posting it lolz. I've noticed a lot of people have written domestic Nanami pics or drawn art, very glad society as a whole has this perception of him. it truly heals the soul I think. anyway, I hope u like this and sorry if there’s any grammar errors I wasnt able to catch U_U im thinking of doing a hc post next.... unsure hm, we’ll see ^_^!!

“I’m hooooome.” He says loudly as he steps through the apartment door, setting his briefcase down and taking off his beige coat. Putting down the grand kitchen knife she was using to chop up spinach, she rushed to the door with a smile and engulfed the tall blonde into a tight hug, saying hello. She took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of his cologne, the smell of something sour and musty soon taking over. Her face scrunched up and she let out a giggle.

“Oh god, Nanami, you stink, what did you go against today?”

“Nothing too bad. Just a grade 3,” He sighed “A smelly grade 3.” He sounded disappointed, probably because he knew he stunk too. Though the smell was horrendous, she still remained in his arms and he still held on just as tight.

“Are you tired? I was thinking of making dinner with you tonight but if you’re too tired I can-”

“No no. I’m fine. Just let me wash up and I’ll help out.”

“You sure?” She asked looking up towards him, questioning once more to reassure. He looked down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m sure, dear.”

While he showers upstairs, she gets back to readying the ingredients so they could begin cooking their masterpiece as soon as possible. Tonight she had chosen chicken alfredo with a tossed salad; One could say it was her favourite, but saying that would imply that she would eat it when cooked and served by whomever. But to her, she would only eat it when it was him who had made it for her.

Y/n adored him. He adored her. To her, he was her light. She could simply not imagine life without him, not after he had come in and changed her in such a way. She never in a million years would have thought to be so in love with someone. To have known someone who cared enough to hear all about her day or listen to all her tangents, whether they made sense or not. Who listened to her talk forever about anything just so he could see the faint glow of passion in her eyes. Someone who remembered the small details in regards to the things she loved and the things she despised; Like how she hated the feeling of peanut butter on her fingers and how she absolutely admired the scent of fresh pages in a new book. Sometimes, she felt undeserving of him.

He admired her like no other. Never did he believe he’d be capable of opening up to anyone in such a way, at least not until she walked into his life. He could write a million lists, all full of everything he loved about her. The way she smiled cheekily at him after a witty remark, how she'd give every hug as if it was the last, the way she was oh so patient with him. It took him time to become vulnerable in the slightest, he just didn’t know how to do so without burdening her. She knew his job was hard, he’d told her. But rather than running away like he expected, she stayed with him right by his side. She refused to leave him over that. If anything, it made her want to stay more since she felt the need to be there for him. It felt like a punch to the gut but a good one. “So, is this love?” He had asked himself then. Nanami had someone who brought out the much more joyful side to him. At the end of the day, he knew he’d walk through the front door only to see her, arms wide open and with a big smile offering a cozy hug. She was his home. Sometimes, he felt undeserving of her.

Putting the final piece of broccoli into the container, she tidies any clutter and went back to their shared bedroom. Sinking into the bed and falling on it with a plush thump, she lets out a deep sigh mixed with some sort of a groan. She herself was exhausted from work too to say the least. She didn’t deal with curses or anything like that, but she did teach a class of 9 year olds which one could consider just as frustrating. Yawning, she checks her phone to read the time: 6:15 PM. Nanami hadn’t been in the shower for too long, a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Quickly, she settled for a little 30 minute nap. That way, she could get up soon enough to help him out in the kitchen and not abandon him to do everything on his own. She turns her phone off and slowly, her eyes shut.

…

Y/n slowly opens her eyes and notices a grey throw blanket placed on her, something that she doesn’t recall going to bed with earlier. “Must’ve been Nanami.” Grabbing her phone, she turns the screen on, wincing at the incredible blue light piercing into her skull. “Fuck.” she mumbles. Once her eyes adjust, she glances back at the screen for the time: 7:30.

“FUCK,” she says, voice croaking “I overslept.” With the speed of light, she leaves bed and runs down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. She soon makes her way over to the kitchen silently, slightly ashamed and guilty. Y/n mumbles a whine with a frown, “He’s probably done making things now. I could have helped.”

The kitchen is filled with the delicate scents of sauces, cheese and herbs. She watches him from the door frame, admiring her boyfriend. He stood in front of the stove mixing at the sauce for the alfredo, which scent alone made her mouth water. Nanami seems to be in his own world, as he stands humming to himself softly, stirring the pot of sauce and adding in the broccoli and spinach, not seeming to notice y/n. With a final stir, he carefully sets the lid and turns to rinse his hands. Her gaze sits upon his figure, how his grey oversized shirt slightly clings to his shoulders and loosens as it goes down his body. Looking down, she noticed the bright red christmas pyjamas he had on, the ones with adorable little reindeers all over them. Grinning, she remembers how she had bought those for him. She purchased a matching set for the two of them and insisted on wearing them all day on Christmas last year. Nanami had responded to the idea with a stern “No” which left y/n in shambles. She didn’t expect him to agree, but hey, a girl can dream. However, on Christmas day, lo and behold, she had woken up to find Nanami sitting on the couch, watching the news with his reindeer PJs on. Immediately, she had attacked him with hugs and kisses and all Nanami did was sit there and accept them, secretly loving it the whole time.

A deep voice throws her out of her thoughts. “You know, it’s rude to stare, right?”

Y/n chuckles quietly and makes her way over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, snuggling into his back.

“I like to stare at you, you’re cute,” she breathes in his scent once again, “ah, you smell so much better now. Like the nami I know.”

“I am not cute. I am a grown man.”

“C’mon, you can’t possibly be saying that right now. Not while you’re wearing these pants.” She coos, gently patting his butt. He goes silent, refusing to rebuttal knowing that he’s lost. He leans against the counter, his front facing her. Though he didn’t say anything, y/n sees this as an open invite to his arms. The rope of his arms finds her waist this time, her arms in an embrace around his neck.

“Whatever, tell me, how was your day, hm?” He posed, changing the subject.

“Same old, yenno. The kids and I had a discussion today about drugs and safety. It was cute, hearing them rat out their neighbours for smoking cigs and talk about how yucky they thought alcohol is. It was… sweet. How was work for you, hon?”

“Shit.” He retorts, closing his eyes, “Work is shit.”

“Oh come ON, I’m sure it’s not always that bad, right? Say, how’s your friend doing, you know, the one who kinda looks like one of my makeup brushes! Isn’t he good company?”

“Yeah, if good company means having to deal with a nuisance to society on a daily basis then by all means, yes, Gojo is wonderful company.” He joked, loosening his grip on her and making his way over to the stove to check on his sauce. She follows, opening the first drawer and pulling out a silver spoon, “You’re so mean sometimes. I think he’s a great guy to be around! I met him once, such a flirt.”

He teases calmly, “If you love him so much, why don’t you get with him?”

Taking her spoon, she lowers it into the pot and brings it back up to her face, blowing on it carefully before she puts it to her lips to taste. “Hmm, I would. But I don’t think he’s as big as you. I’ll have to pass.” She smirked, putting the spoon into her mouth as he watched and sighed in disappointment.

He glares,“God, you’re something else.”

“I’m just kidding, babe.” Bringing her spoon down for another taste. He swats at her hand and she retreats it with a whine. “Don’t do that. You’ve tried it already, and will again when we get to eat.” He scolded tenderly, “Plus, you shouldn’t be given these privileges anyway. It’s not like you helped out or anything.” He smiled, teasing her.

“Nanamiiii, I’m sorry,” she whines, half laughing, “I promise, I was going to help! I just got a little bit sleepy and sort of lost track of time…” He turned over to her and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Laughing, he delicately caresses her cheek, tapping it admirably with a curled finger. The blonde chuckles and looks her in the eyes, “I’m just joking with you, love. I know you’ve been tired lately, I can tell. Why haven’t you been resting?”

Her smile falls and she sighs. Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist and brought him into her, hiding her face into his chest. It was true, she was exhausted but she didn’t deem it to be anything so serious. Work was just heavy this past week from having to grade her students’ work in time for report cards. All she wanted was the best for her kids and was finding ways to get the kids out of their comfort zones enough to do well in class. That reminded her, Nanami also mentioned having a student of his own.

She takes her face out of his chest and glances upwards. “It’s just this week of work, I promise I’ll be back to normal soon. I’ve just been busy with lesson plans and activities, yenno. Anyway, speaking of students, how’s the one you’ve been assigned to?” She posed in a soft tone. Half smiling, he turned around to add the strained pasta to the sauce, scattering it into the pot.

“He’s special. Quite lively. And cheerful. He reminds me of you sometimes,” his voice strains as he stretches to grab the bowl of cooked chicken to finally add into the pot, finishing the meal, “He’s got potential.” Y/n beamed with happiness. Nanami really seemed to like this kid and if he thought you had potential, then it sure as hell meant you had it.

She lets out a squeal, “EEEEEEK!!! That sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Nanami suppressed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s not that-”

“This calls for a drink, don’t you think?” She babbled with excitement, “We should have some wine! Right?”

Grabbing her wrist as she skipped her way over to the bottle, he reminded her, “You have school tomorrow. You always end up having more than needed and struggle to wake up in the morning.” Y/n frowned at his words, to which he noticed and tried to fix, “Tomorrow’s Friday, you can drink plenty tomorrow, hm? I’ll drink with you.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re right. But you have to promise.”

“I promise you ca-”

“No! You have to pinky-promise.” She demanded, pouting as he stuck out her pinky finger.

His heart skips a beat. Was she always this cute? Her angelic eyes stare into his tired ones. Bottom lip poking out, awaiting Nanami’s pinky to interlock with her own. He knew she took pinky-promises very seriously despite her grown age. It was among one of the many petty details that he cherished. Something about this pinky-promise was enough for her to ensure trust onto someone, it made him laugh. Her naivety is what made her so kind hearted, what allowed her to see the best in people. He felt that this naivety is why they’re together to begin with. He didn’t ever think she’d give him a chance. He reminisced of their first few encounters. The way she did her hair back then, the way she dressed, her shy smile and how she’d look at the floor whenever she’d blush. Maybe it was her timid nature that made him fall head over heels for her. Or maybe it was her generosity. Perhaps her beauty. He was unable to simply confine the reasoning for his infatuation with just a few traits. She grew overtime, more comfortable and less shy, she was more confident around him but he knew he could still make her blush so badly that she’d have to hide her face from him. He enjoyed their banter, her company. He felt it was luck. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows. He didn’t want to think so much about it. He wanted to live in the moment, adore her in this present time. In that instance, he felt the strong urge to kiss her. And so he did.

The kiss was short and sweet, yet full of an unfathomable amount of love. It took her aback, she didn’t quite see it coming. She too stood in the present moment, then and there, cherishing the man she loved.

His lips leave hers and he extends the smallest finger on his hand, declaring, “I pinky-promise.” And a ginormous grin washes over her face. In a whisper, she squeals and scoops her arms around his torso, resting her head onto his chest. They stay like this for a while, not too long really, but to them it felt like an eternity being in each other’s affectionate embrace. He goes to speak and she feels the vibrating boom of his voice make his way up from his chest.

“I love you.”

She sighs, “I love you too.”

Turning her head, y/n smoothly gets on her tip toes and clasps her arms around his neck, giving it a tender kiss and attempting to make a trail leading up to his sharp jaw. Catching onto her tactics he laughs, putting his big hand against her face and pushing her back.

“Seriously?” He chuckles, “You couldn’t wait till after dinner? Come on, take out the plates.”

“Wait for what? I was just kissing you! You’re so dramatic, Nami.” She lies, playing innocent. She knew damn well what she was trying to do. She wasn’t going to admit to it though. Taking out the plates and utensils, she readied the table.

…

After dinner and meaningless conversation, the two lovers tidied and headed towards their room. “Do yo wana wah a mohee tomowwow nie?” Y/n proposed from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He perks his head up, confused, “Do I want to what?” She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, repeating her question.

“I said, do you wanna watch a movie tomorrow night? Like at home? There’s this documentary I saw on Netflix, it looks really good! It’s crime related.”

“That sounds fine with me. Though, that’s only possible if you don’t end up drinking too much. I always have to get you to sleep early when you drink.” He states nonchalantly, nose poked into a thick book. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “I promise I won’t drink all that much.” Shifting his book to the opposing hand, Nanami silently takes his pinky finger and holds it out to y/n. She snickers and reciprocates.

“You’ve now pinky-promised. Don’t break it, y/n.”

“I never do.”

The nightstand lamp illuminates the room with a soft yellow glow. Shadows of objects on the nightstand hang on the walls. Laying in bed on her phone, y/n turns over to Nanami, who was still reading his book. “Nami, come lay next to me, I wanna cuddle. Please?” Her voice faint. He looks down at her and puts his book away immediately. He could use a cuddle too. Bringing himself down, he lays on his back, y/n closing the gap between the two. Their legs intertwine, her arm and head resting on his chest while one of his hands rested on her bum, the other dotingly playing with her hair. Neither of them spoke a word for a while. Until y/n broke the silence.

“So, were there no other pairs of pants you had left to wear or-”

“Please, be quiet.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk hcs #jjk oneshot #jjk x y/n #nanami smut #nanami hcs #nanami oneshot #nanami kento #jjk gojo #gojo #gojo satoru #writing #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen hcs #hcs #nanami fluff #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #nanami x reader

[pascalpanic]

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality.  Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

-

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