Every Friend Group Needs + Numenoreans/Southlanders me 🤝 @aadmelioraa, refusing to let this meme die

white christmas | thomas

word count; 16,567

summary; after some unexpected snow ruins your christmas day plans, you spend your first christmas as a married couple making it up as you go along.

notes; this is a follow up (and the final part to!) ‘Sin City’ and ‘Sun City’. I was actually originally going to call this ‘Snow City’ but I wasn’t sure how that would go down. anyways, go enjoy.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, cum play, breeding kink

When you woke up, it was to the sound of the coffee machine whirring slowly in the kitchen, and you rolled over, patting at the spot next to you, and pouting when it came up empty. The sheets were still warm to the touch, and you sighed, cracking an eye open to look at the place. The bedding was still crumpled, tucked back up and over you, and there was a barely visible sliver of light creeping in from the crack in the curtains, lighting up the room.

The alarm clock read just after ten, a sleep in for the both of you, but you deserved it on Christmas Day, and you smiled, the joy of the day washing over you once again. It was cold, unusually so for Vegas, and a chill ran over you as you sat up. Your legs were bare beneath the covers stretched out and staying warm, but the tank top on your upper body did little to warm you now that your human furnace of a husband had left you.

When you finally found the motivation to move, it was only to find a cardigan, tugging it over your arms and rolling the knitted sleeves up and out of your way to sit at your mid-forearms, and searching for a pair of pants. A plaid pair of sleep pants that belonged to your lover, tying them at the waist nice and loose as they sat over your stomach, just enough to be comfy, before you were trailing through the house. He was facing the counter, scrolling through his phone and chewing on a piece of a granola bar idly, the machine still dripping coffee through slowly.

He scarcely even flinched as you made your presence known, your arms slipping around his waist and face pressing between his shoulder blades as you left a kiss to the material of his shirt covering his back, before pressing your cheek over the patch. His free hand came down to settle over your own, squeezing lightly, and humming as he acknowledged you.

“Mornin’, baby.”

“Merry Christmas.” You teased, a sweet chuckle leaving him, before he was putting his phone down, and twisting in your arms to see you instead. Cupping your face, he leaned down, pressing a sweet hiss to your lips, and you licked the slightly sticky residue of honey away when he pulled back, the faint traces of his pre-breakfast snack still lingering on his mouth.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

You only nodded, bumping the tip of your nose against his needily, and he caught the hint, laughing lightly and letting his breath wash over your face as his lips brushed yours. “More? What, all the love and affection you got last night wasn’t enough for you?”

“Yesterday was a completely different day. I haven’t had nearly my quota for kisses yet today.”

“Well, guess I can’t argue with that logic.” His words were mumbled, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks, before dipping down to catch your lips with his own, a slow and lazy kiss that was perfect for the mood. You didn’t need much, and you were past the thrill of overexcited Christmas mornings, you weren’t a child anymore, and one day, your house would be filled with kids of your own, to have those over-excited Christmas mornings again, so you were simply soaking up the bliss of a quiet and hazy one with your husband now.

His tongue teased along your lower lip, pressing lightly at the seam in which they connected, prompting you to part them for him, and you were more than happy to grant him that access. He fell backwards when your hands disconnected from around his waist, smoothing up his back and around his body, until one was sitting on his chest, the other weaving into his hair. His back pressed to the counter, supporting you as you leant up on him, sighing against his mouth.

A breathy groan sounded in the air, deep from him as it originated in the back of his throat, vibrating through you in a way that made you tremble a little under his touch. Your head tipped to the side, a raspy breath taken in before letting him dive back into you once again, your heart racing in your chest and the tips of his fingers dug a little harder into your jaw. You loved knowing you still had this kind of effect on him, and that he had this effect on you, even after being married and having been together for so long, and you truly hoped that the passion between you both never dulled.

When the machine beside you beeped to signal the end of its rotation, he finally pulled away, lips shining and red, the hints of beginning to swell, and he ran the pad of a thumb over your own, before he was pressing back into you, stealing a series of small kisses again, dipping you backwards, until you were out of breath but laughing, cheeks flushing as the need to breathe overwhelmed you, but the way his teeth were scraping lightly at your lower lip was far more intoxicating.

He was beaming when he pulled away, bringing you in close to him again, a hand dropping down to sit on your lower back, pulling you into his body, and letting him spin you both around, so that he could reach for the coffeemaker with the other. He poured two mugs, adjusting the sugar and creamer for you both while never letting you go, holding you close, even when you leaned away for utensils and condiments, working together, a laugh on your lips at the overly wet kiss he pressed to your cheek.

His declaration of love may not have been verbal, but it was clear in everything he did, from the littlest touches to the way he held you close, and the way he made easy gestures such as coffee in the morning or tucking the sheets back over you to keep you warm when he left the bed, endearment in every action he took.

“What are we going to do about today, hm?”

He sipped his drink after asking the question, staring at you pointedly, and your brows furrowed, pausing as you lifted your own hot drink into your hands, and frowning. “We’re going to Newt’s, he’s having everyone over for Christmas, and this is the first year that we can kiss under the mistletoe and exchange gifts without pretending to just be half-friends and half-colleagues, tight smiles and seemingly forced hugs when really, I just want to kiss you senseless and wipe the foam away from the edge of your mouth when you get cream on your lip every single time we have hot chocolate.”

“Oddly specific, have you been daydreaming a lot?” He teased, your cheeks flaring up with heat as you shot him a false glare, but he only grinned, before pouting, and tapping at his lips for a kiss. You hesitated, for only a moment, that second being long enough for punishment, before you leaned up and kissed him sweetly. He seemed satisfied with it, but his original question was still ringing in your mind, and he seemed to pick up on that too, being able to read you like a book at this point; “Go look outside the window, honey.”

He tipped his head towards the tipped up blinds, and you padded over, pulling one down and peeping out, gasping a little in shock at the thin blanket of white that was covering the garden, and the roofs of the other houses, the roads undisturbed as nobody had yet dared to drive along them.

“It’s bad luck, I guess.”

“It’s not that bad, right?” You turned back to him, the realisation of just why it was that it had been quite so cold this morning coming through, and you rubbed at your arms a little, wrapping your cardigan around yourself a little tighter. “What, it's like, two or three inches? We can handle that!”

“Yeah, but, it was a bit rainy yesterday, and the temperatures dipped under during night, so it froze over. There’s going to be hidden ice on the roads, and I’m not used to driving in snow. I don’t want to risk it, baby.” You frowned, staring up at him with wide eyes as you stopped before him, and he ran a hand over your cheek, kissing the other side, but it did little to raise your low spirits. “Not when I’d have such precious cargo on board.”

“I’m not precious cargo.” You grouched, and he chuckled.

“You’re the most precious cargo to me.” He denied, and your arms crossed over your stomach, rolling on the balls of your feet as he turned away, making his way over to the fridge. It was somewhat empty, only a large bowl of mashed potatoes that would have served fifteen people being what you were supposed to be taking, and yet you still had no idea what you would whip up for your breakfast or dinner, but you supposed you’d make it work. “Anyway, Minho just texted and said he and Brenda aren’t going to make it either, and Newt’s boyfriend can’t get over from his parents who he stayed with last night, so we figured we could just video chat, or something, instead.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He turned around to face you at the sound of disappointment in your voice, growing a little at the dismayed look on your face, and he closed the refrigerator door, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “Hey, c’mon, cheer up. Maybe it’ll be nice to have our first Christmas as a married couple to ourselves. Didn’t you say you wished we’d have a white Christmas?”

“Yeah, but I was excited to see our friends.”

“We’ll make it work, angel, don’t worry.” He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, tempting you to let go of the tense distress you were holding, and it worked, your shoulders slumping as you gave in, offering him a smile when he cheered lightly at feeling you melt a little under his persuasion. “Want me to warm you up, sweetheart?”

A scoff left you, and you shoved at his chest, letting him snicker as you walked away, flipping him off a little over your shoulder, and moving back to the bedroom to get your phone. There were notifications from the girls, and your family, all wishing you a ‘Merry Christmas’ and good thoughts, and you returned it to them as you walked back through, straightening the bedsheets back out and opening the curtains before you did.

When you returned to the kitchen, the sweet smell of fruit and pancakes filled the air, a batter being whipped up by the man you loved, and you hopped up to sit on the kitchen island in the centre of the room. You were just beginning to open your emails when your phone lit up with a call, and you jumped slightly, before answering it, cheering a little as you greeted your friend.

“Hey, Newt! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you as well, love. Tommy, too, is he there?”

“Yeah, he’s here, standing right in front of me at the stove.” You reached a foot out, tapping at his ass with your toes and giggling as he jumped, turning to glare at you for the action, red tinging his cheeks, before he was slapping your foot away gently. “Sorry we can’t see you today, who would’ve guessed we’d get snow in Vegas, huh?”

“Maybe it’s because of your wish for a ‘white Christmas’, you jinxed it.” Your husband taunted, reaching for a pan, and you scowled at him, rolling your eyes fondly, and you could hear your friend laughing down the line of the phone as he listened in.

“You two have always bickered like a married couple, and we always wondered why. Now you really are a married couple, and it’s still the biggest reveal of the century.”

“What can I say? Keeping you lot in the dark made it all the more fun for us. The sneaking around was hot.” Thomas cheered loudly at your words, heating up some butter over the flame, and beginning to cook your breakfast, Newt gagging falsely into the speaker.

“I didn’t need to know what kinky shit the two of you use to keep your relationship alive, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. If that’s not what you wanted, then why did you call, huh?” You leaned over again, poking at your husband with your foot, and he reached down, a hand wrapping around your ankle, thumb smoothing over your skin, and he held onto you lightly, using his other hand to flip the pancakes over to let the other side begin to cook.

“Just wanted to check if four was a good time for you both, that’s when everyone else can get online. Some of us have familial commitments and such, not just fucking like weirdly-secretive bunnies to fill the schedule, so we figured it’d work for you, too?”

“Hey, Tommy, four works for us, right?” He held up his other hand in a thumbs up, before piling pancakes up on a plate, and letting go of your leg, allowing it to fall back to swinging under the counter, and beginning to fill the pan up again. “Yeah, four o’clock works for us.”

“Great, see you then, love.”

“Bye, Newt.”

The line went dead, and you placed it down, laughing a little to yourself once again over his comment, and Thomas offered you a smile over his shoulder.

As the pancakes were finished, he created a pile of them on a plate, before bringing them over and placing them on the counter beside your legs, blueberries shining through within them, steam rising up from the plate, a knife and fork following, and he grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge, shaking it up.

“Feelin’ a little more cheery now, angel?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Like, a seven out of ten.” You sighed, picking up the cutlery, and he stuck his lower lip out in false sympathy.

“Only a seven? We gotta’ fix that.” He nudged the plate closer to you, a dollop of cream sprayed onto the plate beside the heap, and your stomach grumbled happily at the sight of the meal before you. “Eat your pancakes, sweetheart.”

“What about you?”

“I already know what I’m gonna’ eat.” He winked, a lazy drop of one eyelid, before he was filling his mouth with the whipped treat and leaning in to place a messy kiss to your lips, the taste of the sweet and creamy condiment spreading to your mouth as your groaned, feeling rough hands slide up your thighs and squeeze roughly. His hands were tugging at the ends of your shirt, your cutlery clattering back to the counter to shuck off your cardigan, before he was pushing your top up and over your head, breasts falling free and nipples pearling in the cold air. “Let me warm you up, honey, make it all better.”

You could only nod, back arching into his touch when you felt the nozzle of the canister run down between your tits, before crying out when the chilled dessert was sprayed in a swirl over one of your nipples. He repeated the action on the other to match, before a line was moving along your chest, right to your navel, and you lay back on the counter, head hanging over the other side.

“You look so sweet, baby, and I know just how good you taste, can’t wait to get my mouth on you.” Two fingers pressed to your core through the plaid pants you wore, rubbing softly and you keened up into his touch. A hot mouth descended to your neck as his fingers worked slowly, kissing lightly along your neck, drags of his teeth to make you shiver, and he sucked roughly at your collarbones in a way that made you shake. He knew all of your weak spots, and all of the pieces that made you weak, having learned your body like the back of his own hand, experience over years of patience and testing, and when he finally moved down to your chest, you knew there would be marks all along your skin come tomorrow, showing up in dark bruises that matched his mouth perfectly.

He bit down, just enough force to make you cry out his name, on the side of your breast and licking it to soothe it, before his mouth was closing over one perky nipple.

The topping there was lapped away, tongue dragging in deliberately slow and teasing motions, your head spinning at the feeling of the bud being rolled along his tongue, nibbled on slightly until the skin was raw in a delicious way that always made everything feel ten times better, beginning to grow sensitive under the attention he gave to you, before he switched to give the other the same treatment. Your hand laced into his hair, holding him to your chest, a groan leaving him as your nails scratched over his scalp, the feeling vibrating along every nerve in your body until your fingertips were tingling, toes curling from where your legs dangled.

“Tommy..”

“God, I love the way you sound when you moan my name. So fuckin’ hot.” His words were a little slurred, his own arousal seeping through, and he was cleaning your skin of the cream he’s left there, licking his way down along your body until you were no longer coated in the substance, and he was sinking to his knees, fingers hooked into the band of your pyjamas and you could barely lift your hips up to help him, body trembling with need and desire, and he tugged them away, discarding them to the floor, along with your panties. “Pretty little pussy, dripping for me, so perfect.”

Kisses along your inner thighs, and you whined out, legs being lifted up to rest over his shoulder, ankles loving behind his neck, and for a moment, heat simply washed over your centre from his panted breaths, before he was indulging himself in your sodden core.

A loud cry, bouncing off of all the walls in the kitchen was emitted from you as you felt the tip of his tongue parted your folds, teasing around your entrance before flattening along your middle. He took his time, cleaning you of everything that you had to give, juices dripping out of your more and more, the longer he teased you and waited, and you could already feel yourself finding it harder to breathe, white-hot heat scorching along your body as he treasured you, devouring you like his final meal.

There were times when Thomas was quick and rough, sucking and biting at your clit with just enough pain to make you cry and scream in all the best ways, before fucking you with his tongue until you were shaking and no longer sentient, but then there were times like today.

These were the moments when he really took his time, tongue swirling along you, dragging around your clit until it was throbbing, tears lining your eyes from desperation, before is lips were brushing over the bead, enough to make a jerky motion journey along your entire body as you reacted to that simplest and lightest of touches with so much need.

“Oh, fuck, please, Tommy..”

“Want my mouth, huh, baby? Look at you, all whiny and desperate. Love it when you’re like this, needy for what only I can give you.” He gave into you when another pleading noise roe up from your throat and into the air, thumbs smoothing up along your thighs to part your folds, revealing the little bud to him entirely, and he dragged the roughness of his tongue over it slowly, broken gasps leaving you as your body spasmed a little, the stimulation so welcome and craved that your head went blank as he finally gave you what you wanted. “Needy baby, all for me.”

You would’ve retorted, snapped back, had anything to say, had it not been for his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking on it harshly as your hips bucked up into his face, and your eyes rolled back in your head. A finger prodded at your core, a single digit slipping into your velvet channel with ease, and your walls clenched frantically around the finger from the moment he had sunk right down until his knuckles were pressed to your flesh. He could reach deeper than you ever could and you couldn't drag oxygen into your body in even half-lungfuls anymore because he was driving you insane, twisting and curling that finger, just enough to rub at your walls, teasing you as he searched for that spot that drove. you wild.

He knew where it was, his fingertip brushing against it, and when you keened up, loud sobs of his name falling from your lips, he chuckled into your skin. Abusing both patches that made you crazy, inside and out, he was a deadly combination, slow motions making you wish he’d speed up, but he was dragging it out, knowing that if he kept it up, you’d melt, become utterly senseless and completely empty of any thought or complaint about the day, and that was where he wanted you.

You knew he did, he wanted you blissed out, cum-drunk and dazed, so that you wouldn't be sad about missing your friends or not getting to celebrate how you wanted, and you were more than happy to give in to that whim if it meant you were allowed to chase the orgasm that was steadily building within you at the momentum because as that spring wound up tighter and the heat rose, there wasn’t a single thought in your head except reaching climax, and chanting your husbands name as his mouth worked you over.

Your hand was tangled in the dark chocolate locks atop his head, still messy and mussed from sleep, now even more fucked-up as you tugged at them limply, body going weak as you teetered on the edge of your peak. As though sensing how close you were, his attention moved from your swollen bud, down further, slurping up hungrily at everything you’d given him, everything he’d drawn from you, before this tongue was plunging into your centre.

At the touch, you exploded, stars flashing behind your eyes as you came undone around his tongue,  and he moaned himself, loudly and unashamedly as his fingers flexed against your thighs, wiggling tightly and holding them apart as they trebled, legs attempting to snap closed around his head and he never let up on his assault, tongue fucking in and out of you as your walls fluttered.

He’d given up on the soft and lazy act, becoming impatient himself, and he’d always been vocal about how much he loved to be buried between your thighs, but sometimes, it still surprised you, times like now, when he was selflessly desperate to feel you come undone again, to lick you clean as juices flowed from you, and your head was spinning as you neared yet another edge.

He pulled back, two fingers delving into your folds, moving at speeds you could barely comprehend as they slammed in and out of you, your cries growing in volume until you were screaming his name, arching up and quivering against the marble countertop, before he placed a final nip to your clit, humming proudly and contentedly as he felt you cum again. Juiced dripped down his wrist, pooling on the floor in droplets, tears dripping from your eyes, chest heaving for breath, and when you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled back. Licking you clean and leaving you to beg and plead, spasming atop the tabletop, he left you clean of slick and cum, kissing his way back up your body until he was standing between your parted thighs, the tip of his nose nudging under your jaw.

“Better?”

You made a vague sound of questioning, too fucked-out to even open your eyes, and you were sure Thomas’ chest was puffing out, ego swelling at just how he managed to get you like this, and he pulled away. Sucking wet fingers into his mouth to clean them off, he used his other to pull you up into a sitting position, goosebumps rising along your skin as the chill in the room began to seep back in.

You waved a hand around loosely for your top, finding it and tugging it back on, barely checking it was on the right way, before your cardigan was following. Large hands were still massaging along your legs, which were now wrapped around his waist, and you jumped a little as his thumb smoothed over a deliciously sore bite mark that he’d left on your inner thigh.

“That was fucking fantastic.” You murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he beamed, pride rising within him, but he didn’t comment on it. “Best Christmas present ever.”

“Don’t say that, you haven’t even opened my gifts yet. I’ve got you beat this year, there’s no way you can top it.” You cracked a smirk, shrugging at him and resting your cheek to his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, I have a pretty great gift for you myself.” His hands smoothed up and down your back under your jacket, warming you up through and through just with the loving touches he gifted to you. It was moments like these that you would always remember; sex with Thomas was mind-blowing and spectacular every single time, but it was the moments after that were what made your relationship what it was, the way he’d hold you so lovingly, touch you with such tender adoration that you felt your heart may actually explode, ad he did it all because he wanted to, not because e was expected to or he thought t would make you happy, but purely because he desired to be with you as much as you with him. “Can I have my pants back now?”

“Think you need new ones, yours are pretty wet.” There was a tone laced to his voice that made shy and embarrassed warmth flood your face once again, making you glad he couldn't see you from where you were buried in his neck, but not missing the way his foot was rubbing the garments across the tiles to dry the floor, before flicking them away a little.

“Okay, but let me down, because I’m still hungry, and I want those pancakes.”

He held you a second longer, a light squeeze, before he stepped back and let you go, tapping at your ass in a cheeky spank as you bent to collect your discarded clothes to take to the laundry, before you were walking away from him with a skip.

A new set of clothes, a trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up, and running a brush through your hair to fix it and pull it out of your face and into a reasonably controllable bundle on your head. When you reentered the kitchen, Thomas was sitting on one of the stools, using your knife and fork to eat the half-cold pancakes, and you grabbed your own set, sitting opposite him, and tucking in.

The meal consisted of laughs, and jokes, hinting at gifts for one another without ever quite giving them away, and then, making a plan for your day. You didn’t have the right ingredients to make a Christmas dinner, and an entirely free day, where you would have been leaving in half an hour to make your way over to Newt’s place. Instead, you would exchange your gifts together, and make your attempt at a decent Christmas dinner, before video chatting with your friends for a while, and finishing off the day with a movie.

It wasn’t the Christmas you’d planned, but it would be perfect in its own way.

The tree lights were twinkling softly, glittering on the wrapping paper you had covering your gifts neatly underneath, a matching set in a different colour, reindeers dancing across the front in a gift wrap Thomas had chosen for you. Your untouched coffee was now cold, and you tipped it away, getting a new mug out and filling the kettle under the tap, before setting it off. A herbal tea bag was placed into the mug, a spoonful of honey and a slice of lemon to follow, before a pair of arms were wrapping around your waist.

“Hurry up, I want you to open your gift already.”

“Patience is a virtue.” You hummed, and he sighed loudly, shuffling in a little closer to you. His chin hooked onto your shoulder, hot breath fanning over your cheek, followed by a seat kiss, and you leaned back a little into his chest. Your hands rested over your hips where his hand had joined, squeezing lightly, and nuzzled a little further into you. “Besides, I already told you that my gift is going to win this year.”

“I won for the last two years and Valentine’s Day, you don’t stand a chance.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning a little at his competitive side beginning to shine through, and as the kettle finally clicked off, water boiling, you filled your mug, stirring it lightly to spread the flavour, before nudging him backwards with your hips, hearing him groan a little as you did, a false glare on his face form the way you’d pressed your ass up against him to get him to move, but then, he was following you to the living room.

You blew the steam from your mug, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic, the smell of apple and cranberry drifting up to your nose, surrounding you and soothing any worries you may have as you settled down onto the couch. Thomas stood before the tree, one foot poking at the gifts sitting under the decorative branches, assessing them all, before turning to look at you. “Save the best for last?”

There was a smirk on his face, and you mirrored it, his eyes narrowing on you a little bit. “Works for me.”

“Great, so I’ll give you a gift last, then?”

“For now.” His cocky tone was enough to make the game a little more exciting, and he rose a brow, turning to motion at the gifts that you’d placed there, before lifting one up for you. He handed it over, before looking back at the ones for him, and waiting for you to guide him. “Open any, the winning gift isn’t under the tree.”

“I think you’ll find it is.” He teased, pointing to the one he’d wrapped himself, before grabbing the first glitter package with his name on that he could reach.

“Actually, it’s over here, sitting on the couch.” A wicked grin on your lips, and his eyes scanned over you, jaw dropping a little, and you watched as his eyes went half-lidded for just a second, wondering just how filthy his mind had gone, and then he was chewing on his lower lip, seeming to snap back to reality, his gaze snapping up from your tits to your eyes.

He pounced, two strides closing the distance, before one hand was supporting himself on the back of the couch as he leaned over you, pressing a long kiss to your lips, licking his way into your mouth, and groaning a little at the way you pressed back into him just as eagerly, one hand lacing into his hair, pulling on the strands slightly. When he pulled back, it was with your lower lip between his teeth, growling lightly, before letting it go. “I can’t wait to unwrap that gift later, then.”

“Alright, hot stuff.”

He beamed, taking a seat beside you and placing the sparkly package onto his lap, a few pieces of glitter falling away to decorate his pyjama pants, but he was too excited to steady himself anyway. Tearing at the paper, he left it scattered along the living room floor, stripping the gift of its concealment, and lifting it up to take a look. The pause only lasted for a second, before he was lighting up with joy, and turning to look at you with wide eyes.

He'd been talking about it for months, but he had no idea what it was called, or where he would find it, and he was pretty sure he’d never find it. It was a printer for his earpieces, creating custom little cases that he could put on them, so that the boring piece of plastic that he had to wear in his ear all day, every day, on the casino floor, could finally be something a little more exciting.

“I can’t believe you found it!”

“It wasn’t easy to find, at all. What are you going to print first?” He considered it, staring down at the box, before shrugging his shoulders, mind coming up clear.

Flicking your finger under the edge of the wrapping, it popped loose, and you continued to go, watching as he twisted towards you a little more. It was a set of your favourite skincare products, ones that you’d been running out of and kept intending to get more of but always seemed to forget about somehow, and he’d clearly been browsing the website, because the box was stuffed full of all different types of new products, samples and new things to try, as well as bath bombs and room sprays.

The rest of the gifts followed along much the same pathway, simple gifts that were more practical than special, but meaningful nonetheless. You got him new boxers, with reindeers and baubles on, and he smirked as he gave you a new set of lc that could scarcely be counted as underwear, before following it with a filthy kiss and whispered promises for later.

You got him new cologne with a matching shampoo and body wash set, and he got you a new blazer for work after your last one ripped, and you opened all the gifts from your friends and family that were still sitting there. Your last gift to him has been tap bracelets, ones that he could wear at work for when he was feeling anxious, so that yours would buzz whenever he tapped it, and he got a little teary at the gesture.

As the room was littered with ribbons, bows, and torn paper, he picked up the last gift and waved it a little, the couch bouncing underneath you as he flopped back onto the cushions, sitting beside you. “So, not that those bracelets aren’t amazing - because they are - but they can’t top this. Are you ready for the best gift of the year?”

“I suppose so.” You wiggled your fingers, in a ‘gimme’ motion, and it handed it over. You were no longer delicate with the opening, tearing at the paper roughly to reveal what was inside, and shucking it of the silk that hid it, before lifting it up to get a better look.

It was a scrapbook, a beautiful fake-leather design that had golden-embossed letters across the front. Opening it up, there was a small gasp on your lips, pictures of yourself and Thomas that you’d never seen before, right from the very first hours of your wedding.

You hadn't even put on your dress yet, still standing with your hair pinned back waiting to be styled, make-up half done, and a glass of champagne in hand as you laughed with you friends, a shot clearly taken by one of the girls who’d been with you that morning as you got ready. Another beside it was of Thomas, face red and a slightly panicked look on his features as he stood with his shirt half-buttoned, one shoe in hand as he stared around the room for the other, a note written underneath that Newt had hidden it from him just to fuck with him.

Turning the pages, you found ones that were more professional, outtakes from the photographer that weren’t ones that had ever made the cut, slightly blurry ones or the sun shining across the scene, ones where you weren’t looking or weren’t as visible in crowds, and yet they were perfect. Every glance you had cast Thomas, all the moments between you both that the photographer had somehow seemed to capture, memories you didn’t even realise you had all flooding back, the little moments that weren’t staged or pressured like a first dance, your lips sat parted in awe. They had gone one, too, print outs and pictures from your honeymoon, photos you had taken together, or hadn't realised he had taken at all.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“I had a little help, but mostly, yeah. Is it okay?” He lifted his hand to his face, chewing on his nail lightly as he stared at you, and you reached a hand out, bringing it away from his face, and leaning in a little closer to him. He sighed in relief, sensing where this was going, and moving in close enough to rest his forehead against your own.

“It’s perfect, I love it.”

He let out a little laugh, nodding his head to himself in confirmation, before closing the gap. It was a sweet and soft kiss, one that conveyed everything that needed to be said, and paper crinkled loudly as he shifted, pushing it away to the side, falling to the floor after being removed from where it was pressed between your bodies as he pulled you in closer, and you held his face with both hands, nails scratching lightly at his jaw, freshly shaven and soft skin making him shudder as you scratched at it lightly.

“I love you.”

“I know, I love you too.” His mouth moved, trailing along your skin to your cheek, kisses being pressed all the way along, up your temple to your forehead, and your face screwed up at the ticklish feeling, making him laugh as he felt your features wrinkle under his lips. “Gettin’ on into the day, want to go find something to make for Christmas dinner?”

“Absolutely.”

He stood first, offering his hands out to you and pulling you to your feet when your fingers slid into his and held on tight, and he winked a little, hands slipping around behind you, pinching at your ass cheekily and making you jump, shrugging when you gasped and fixed him with a questioning look.  “You’re just hot. Your ass has been looking great lately.”

“You’re so horny, all the time.”

“Because my wife is hot, that’s why.” You rolled your eyes, letting him walk a step ahead of you, and you placed a loud smack on his ass as he went, watching as he turned to face you with a dropped jaw and pink cheeks, grabbing at his own ass for protection as he walked backwards. “You did not!”

“What can I say? You’re just hot. Your ass has been looking great lately.” He mimicked you childishly, a grin taking over his features despite it, and he snatched up both of your hands in his, holding them up high like a revered and feared weapon, dragging you into the kitchen as you stumbled over your own feet.

In the freezer, you had a small batch of chicken, some frozen vegetables and an apple pie. In the fridge, you had some potatoes, and enough spices in the cupboards to make decent gravy. He boiled water while you sliced the potatoes, dropping them in to begin boiling, and turning up the radio to listen to the Christmas songs that were playing. Once your chicken and potatoes were in the oven, you chopped up some veggies for roasting, hearing him clatter around in the cupboards, and he insisted that you stayed turned around to face the counter.

When he finally let you look, there was a tablecloth that you had forgotten you even had laid out, white with a few stains around the edges, and a faded and slightly purple mark in the middle from where wine had been split on it and never property come out before it had been permanently put away, but he’d carefully covered it by placing your vase full of winter flowers in the middle. There was cutlery laid out ready, and bowls and plates, and he was overly proud of himself for the decorations, chairs pulled around a little so that you’d still be able to see one another, instead of being blocked off by the centrepiece.

“So, guess what I found while setting up the table?”

“What did you find, baby?”

The sloshing sound gave it away, before he ever pulled it out from behind his back, and he waved it at you a little. “A super nice bottle of wine that was a wedding present. Wanna’ get us some glasses?”

“Not right now, I don’t want to drink when we’re on video chat with our friends.” His face fell a little, brows raising, before he was fixing you with a quizzical glance, and you laughed, shaking your head at his speculation. “Maybe later, okay? I’m having a great time with you right as we are. Besides, don’t you think wine that special is more of a late-night drink, when we’re watching a movie, all alone? Don’t you want to save it for some fun later?”

You dragged a nail along his chest, catching lightly on the fabric on his shirt, and he followed it with his gaze, licking at his lips and nodding his head. “Shit, you’re totally right.”

“Mhm, always am.” You grinned, and he scoffed, but pecked your lips, offering his agreement to you, and placing the bottle down on the counter.

The clock ticked over, half an hour until four o’clock, and you started off the mashed potatoes on reheating, and the rest of the food on cooking, and you had everything that you needed to have a meal. You worked together to clean up the living room, scooping up all the leftover scraps, and you vacuumed all the sparkles that were going to get stuck in the carpet. Once you were finished, you settled down together on the couch, laptop set up before you, and waiting for the group to become active, and to click through onto the camera.

Thomas was pressed up to your side, arm stretched out along the back of the couch behind you, fingers brushing against your shoulder, waiting as everybody joined, until noise was filling your living room, seeing everybody else light up.

As the evening went on, you listened to each of them talk about what they’d done with their day, and show off their presents, and the men had been overly excited to see how their scrapbooking efforts had gone down, Minho complaining about the paper-cuts he’d gotten at every possible chance there was.

You were drunk on the feeling of pure joy, hearing your friends laugh and share stories, the sadness that you’d held about not being able to see your friends ebbing away to be replaced with simple happiness, at getting to hear what their days had entailed despite it. Brenda had dropped an entire tray of roast potatoes, and they had to start again, Minho had fed his dog turkey and vegetables, and the sweet little puppy had thrown it up on his foot after getting over-excited about playing fetch ten minutes later, and Newt had accidentally spilt the water at the bottom of his tree and almost lost an eye on the lower branches while mopping it up. There was a graze just below his left eye.

They shared their gifts, and got progressively more drunk, and some of the other families even stopped by at some points to give a wave, and well-wishes, and talk with you for a quick moment. It was lovely, and perfect in its own way, and when it had been over, you’d been hesitant to end the call at all and let them go. As the screen of the computer had gone black, you’d turned to your lover, legs swung across his lap and cuddling in a little closer as the temperatures began to drop down once again, awe evident on your features as snow was beginning to flutter down once again.

The look on his face was soft as you brushed the strands of hair back and out of his eyes, before they were fluttering shut upon feeling your thumb brushing over his cheek. Your dinner was only minutes away from being ready, and you were content in one another’s company, simply letting the day drain away as you soaked up how it felt just to be the two of you, spending your first Christmas in a home you owned, as a married couple, with everything in the world to look forwards to. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, his arms tightened around you leaning back and into the cushions comfortably, as the two of you sat in loving silence.

The oven-timer dinged, and you were hesitant to move, a groan on your lips, lingering a few minutes longer, before you shifted, his grip on your loosening as you got up. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the air, steam pouring out of the oven from the second that it was opened, and it drifted around you as you began to pull out the trays, hearing your husband clattering around behind you as he gathered plates and cutlery.

Bumping his hip against yours as he came to stand behind you, he had a spoon in his hands, laying the plates out and beginning to dish up the vegetable as you stood beside one another, serving up food in comfortable silence. Warmth was pouring off of the man, he’d always felt like a human space heater, always making it extra comfortable to be wrapped up in his arms, and you were tempted to just fall into his grip right now, but resisted, your stomach rumbling happily as your meal came together.

Leaving all of the equipment stacked up in the sink, that was definitely something you could deal with later, Thomas taking his seat first, leg reached out under the table as he pushed your chair out for you, fingers twitching atop the table cloth as he tries to resist the urge to start eating until you were ready. Placing a glass down for him, you were drinking water yourself, and Thomas raised his brows, accepting the drink you were holding out for him, eyes flicking to the counter.

“No wine?”

“I have plans for the wine later.” You teased, one eye dropping in a wink, and pink spread over his cheeks in an adorable blush, despite him being a cocky as he always was, and his lips twisted up in a slight smirk.

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot that you’d promised me one more gift.” His eyes dropped down for a second, scanning along what he could see of your body above the table, before stabbing at some of the vegetables on his plate and chewing on them happily. It was an odd mix of foods, making the best of your Christmas dinner that you could, and yet, it was one that you’d always remember and be able to tell as a story at parties and to friends in the future, a Christmas that you’d never forget.

This year was undoubtedly the biggest one to ever change your life, a turning point, not just the start of a new chapter, but the ending of one book and the beginning of a whole new one. “We got married this year.”

Thomas glanced up, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you saw the look of mischief flash through his eyes before his lips had even quirked up into a smirk around the words he was forming; “I know. I was there, or do you not remember?”

“Oh, hush.” You frowned, rolling your eyes at him, and he stretched out under the table, toes poking against your foot, before you stretched back, locking your ankle with his own, and he continued to eat as he waited for you to expand on your point. “I just mean, well, look at us. We have a house, and we’re married, and it’s all just ours. We made it all ourselves. Five years ago, I would’ve been at my parents’ house eating turkey and listening to my cousins bitch about how I shouldn’t still be single.”

“Five years ago, I would’ve been drunk by now, listening to Minho flirt with his holi-date and listening to Newt pine after hot magazine models, while I pictured you and how much I loved you, and I didn’t even know your name yet.” Your breathing got stuck a little in your throat, your brows raising at the soft tone in his voice as he placed down his knife and fork across the centre of his plate, shrugging as he leaned back in his seat. “I just knew that one day I’d find the perfect woman; then, a few months later, I met you.”

“I still get butterflies when you tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” He beamed, watching as you squirmed a little in your seat, watching your reaction and knowing the effect he had on you, snickering to himself a little, before sobering up once again. “I still get that tingly feeling when you kiss me sometimes, all the way down to my toes. At the most random of times, like in the milk aisle at the supermarket, or in the bathroom when I'm brushing my teeth.”

“Glad to know I still have that effect on you.” You took a sip of your water, smirking over the rim of your glass at him, and he just continued to stare, a lazy and distant kind of look on his face, and you could tell that his mind had slipped far away, lost in his thoughts, but it was nothing that you weren’t used to. You finished up your own food, and sat with him for a while in silence, fading in and out of your thoughts, slipping to and from for a while, until the chair grew uncomfortable, and you stood up, stretching your limbs out and shaking yourself down.

He watched you go, sighing a little as he did, and taking your outstretched hands when you offered them to him. As he stood, you went from looking down at him to looking up, and he leaned down, just enough to bump his nose against your own.

“Wanna’ go cuddle on the couch with a blanket?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He teased, pushing you a little toward the doorway. “Go find a blanket and pick out a movie, I’ll put everything in the dishwasher and set it off, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay?”

“M’kay.” You whispered, pushing up onto the tips of your toes long enough to steal a kiss from his lips, and he pressed back eagerly upon feeling your mouth against his own. Hands on your waist pushed you back, his lips still puckered as he pulled away, urging you to go and get comfortable. The kitchen tiles were chilled underfoot as you walked away, and the floorboards were still cold to the touch too, but the carpets of the living room were a little warmer, and as you picked up the knitted blanket that was rolled up on the back of the couch.

Wrapping it over your shoulders, you grabbed the remotes, turning on the TV and waiting for the channels to adjust, before you were loading up Netflix to scroll through the Christmas movies. Thomas was clattering about in the kitchen, the sounds of cutlery scraping on plates and of them being loaded into the racks, set up to be washed. As you settled on one, you heard him toying with the controls, beeping signalling that the machine had started up on cleaning the dishes used, and the flooring creaked under every step he took, before the cushions were dipping and caving beside you as he settled down at your side.

Wrapping an arm over your shoulders, he pulled you back into his chest, letting you get comfortable as he did, spreading one leg out along the couch, and one remaining where it was, planted on the floor for support as you settled back into his chest, lips brushing across your head. “I chose us a movie to watch.”

“Whatever you want is fine with me, baby.”

“Such a sap.” You mumbled, receiving a teasing squeeze around you in retaliation for your words as you pressed play, and feeling him tugging at the blanket a little until you shed it, spreading it out over your lap and his legs, until both of you were tucked snugly underneath it, the beginning credits beginning to play.

Yo almost dozed off only a few minutes in, a combination of feeling so full and content, loved and safe in the arms of the man you loved. One hand was sitting in your lap, fingers waived with your own loosely above the covers, while the other was sitting underneath the edge of your shirt, sitting over your stomach, holding you anchored to him.

You barely registered the movie playing, more caught up in your mind over everything you found yourself with, every situation and scenario, every night being able to go to bed alongside the man you loved, and waking up to him in the morning.

Only a few years ago, you were alone, with no idea you were about to meet the love of your life. Then, you’d started a new job, and met a sweet security guard with a cocky attitude and a heart of gold, and he’d stolen your heart right out from under you while sweeping you off of your feet, even when you hadn't planned for it to happen. You had thought you were happy, that you were content with being single and focusing on yourself, and yet, just by being himself, he had somehow become everything you wanted and needed.

You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Halfway through, Thomas had grown bored of sitting quietly, as he usually did, his fingers stroking a little over your skin as he tried to grab your attention, and his lips moving along your shoulder, the ti of his nose stroking stray strands of hair out of his way, until he could get to the column of your throat.

His teeth nipped a little at your flesh, just enough to tease, a light laugh falling from you as you trembled in his arms a little bit, and you twisted around to face him, straddling his lap as you did, and he smiled up, hands coming to sit on your hips as yours sat on his shoulders, thumbs smoothing over the base of his neck. “Bored, Tommy?”

“Little bit. This film kinda’ sucks.”

You tried to suppress the snort of a laugh that you wanted to release, nodding your head as you knew it to be true. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was new and trending on Netflix, and so had given it a go. Shifting out of his hold, he whined a little as you went, but watched you walk away, scooping up one of the boxes you’d given him, and bringing it back over, shaking it excitedly. “Why don’t you try your new gift out, huh? I’ll help you pick something to print!”

He stood up to meet you, nodding his head and taking it from your hands, before trying to undo the tape sealing the box shut, and tipping the components out onto the couch.

“I’ll take everything else to the bedroom, you get it set up, ‘kay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He teased, offering you a little wink, before he was padding across to one of the only remaining empty sockets now they were filled with Christmas lights and decorations, and sitting down on the carpet, legs crossed as he plugged it in and reached back for the instruction booklet.

Grabbing the remaining boxes and bags, you made your way through the house, backing through the door and pushing it open with your butt, before using your elbow to flick on the bedroom light. The boxes were stacked in the corner, everything else sitting on top, a job to be dealt with in the morning. The beautiful leather-bound album that was sitting on top of them all had the embossed lettering glittering under the light, and you picked it up, taking a seat on the bed and placing it down in your lap.

It was physical proof of the love between you both, a record of every moment that you’d been able to map throughout your wedding, your relationship coming to an ultimate peak, and blossoming into something even more incredible. Every page brought you a little closer to tears, as you realised just how much you loved him, and how you wouldn’t be who you were anymore without him. Placing the beautiful album back down, you grabbed the final bag, discarding the tissue paper and pushing the bedroom door closed a little more, a smirk on your lips.

You could hear whispered curses and mumbles coming from your husband as he tried to work out how to operate the machine you’d bought him, and you slipped your clothes from your body, dropping them into the laundry hamper. It only took you a moment to rub a freshly scented moisturiser over your body, skin still smooth and clean from the last shower you’d had, and a few spritzes of the perfume you knew drove your lover mad.

Taking off the pretty tags form the new lacy set laid out on the covers, you slipped the garments onto your body, suspenders clipping once you’d pulled the stockings up your legs, and your breasts were swollen in the bra, and you couldn't deny how good you looked, and felt. Once you were dressed, feet moving softly on the floorboards as you returned to the living room, you ran a hand through your hair, messing it up just enough to be sexy, and leaning on the doorframe.

“You figure it out yet, baby?”

“Almost.” He mumbled, never looking up, and you waited, brows raising a little when he continued to be completely preoccupied with the task at hand. He placed the booklet between his teeth, a huff on his lips as he tried to press a series of buttons again, only for it to beep and flash red at him, and he huffed, not noticing you making your way towards him.

“Little cold in here, don’t you want to warm up?”

“Blanket is still on the couch.”

You grinned, thrilled to know he was enjoying your gift so much, but ready for him to be busy with something else for a little while. Placing a finger under his chin, you twisted his head toward you, his eyes finally leaving the device he’d been tinkering with, and his jaw dropped. The paper fell from his mouth and fluttered away, his eyes dragging along you slowly, down to your feet before moving back up to your face, and then it was all the way down once again. He took in every feature, eyes lingering on the pace where your stockings were held up, the soft flesh there, his fingers twitched a little before he was taking in the intricate lace detailing covering you.

“Holy fuck, baby.” He put the device down, twisting to face you, moving to kneel instead of sitting, and his hands hooked onto the back of your legs, fingers flexing against your calves. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He leaned in to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your upper thigh, an equally wet one to match on the other side, kneeling before you as he kissed at your flesh slowly, dragging the tip of his nose over the front of your covered core, just above where your would’ve really wanted him, and your hand slipped into his hair. His fingers were kneading at your muscle as he worked his way up, until he was taking handfuls of your barely covered ass in his hold, beginning to stand slowly, kissing his way up your body with every inch that he rose upwards, until he was standing fully before you.

Your head tipped back as he sucked on your neck, working to leave a pretty mark on the junction between your throat and shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides, until he could squeeze at your breasts, making you arch up into his body, a chuckle washing over your skin.

“Jump for me, angel.”

He caught you as you did, more than experienced in the act, lifting you up into his arms as your legs wrapped around his waist, never once stumbling or tripping as he guided you to the bedroom, never letting up on his assault along your neck. Your back met the covers, pressing you down into the soft material carefully, letting you inch your way up until your head was in the pillows as he crawled after you, body covering your own.

Finally, you pulled his mouth to meet yours, a hot and wet kiss, long overdue and sorely needed, his teeth all but clashing with your own from the intensity of it.

He held himself up above you with both hands, his body pressing to your own as one thigh came up to settle between your legs, a whimper leaving you, swallowed by him as the muscle pressed against your already wettening core. When you finally ran out of breath, he shifted his kisses along your jaw, nipping as he went, and you knew that there would be red patches and dark bruises to follow, the slight scrape of his stubble along your skin making you tremble a little underneath him, and your hips bucked up against him.

“S’okay, sweetheart. Go ahead, rub up on my thigh, I know you want to.” His words washed over your jaw in hot breaths, a whine leaving you, before you were doing exactly as he’d offered, hips beginning to roll up against him. The friction sparked something in your gut, a soft sigh leaving you, pressing down harder with each movement you made, seeking out the climax that was slowly beginning to build. As you did, Thomas was shifting further and further down your body, pulling out the ribbons and strings that were holding the lace closed around your body, each bow delicately undone revealing a little more of your body to him. “You look so hot in this. I have good taste.”

He caught your eyes, just for a second, but long enough to wink at you to follow his comment, before he was kneeling back, sitting on his heels and pulling you up alongside him. Settling you in his lap, your arms looped around his neck, legs kneeling on either side of his waist, sitting atop his thighs, a whine leaving you as you could no longer grind against his thigh.

Rough hands on your hips centred you across him, licking over his lips to bite down on his lower lip as he pushed you down against the bulge in his sweats, a quick breath expelled as you did, and his eyes seemed to darken even further, twinkling in the low light pouring in from the corridor.

One arm wrapped around your waist to support you as you leaned back from him, a grunt spilling out as you pressed down harder into him, his cock throbbing through the material against your centre. As you flicked on the lamp, warm light flooded over the room, lighting it up enough for you to see one another, casting shadows over you both that sharpened his features, catching the golden flecks within his eyes as he looked at you.

“Do you feel what you do to me, angel? Pretty lady in my lap, all dolled up in lace. You’re incredible.”

“You have the same effect on me, don’t you worry.” You whispered, leaning in to catch his lips with your own again in a slower kiss. He was holding you to him tightly, mouth working with yours in the slow rhythms that you set, perfectly willing to take all the time in the world, because you had nowhere else to be except right here, with one another. Tracing your tongue song his lip, he let out a soft sound as he parted his lips for you, head twisting to the side so that he could dip into you a little further, tongue exploring your mouth as though he’d never kissed you in such a way before, butterflies rising in your stomach at the delicate way in which he held you.

Tugging at the hem of his shirt, you inched it up along his body, legs tightening around him to hold yourself steady as his arms raised over his head to let you strip it away, before he was peeling the lingerie from your body down, letting it pool around your waist as his shirt fell away from your hands to the floor, discarded for the time being. The second your upper body was able to him, you were being laid back into the bedding, letting him follow after, your head resting a month the pillows, hands on his cheeks to hold his kiss to you, legs wrapping around him as you did.

Fingers inched along your body, the muscles in your stomach fluttering as he did, until they were slipping under the fabric, pushing the crotch of your panties aside to tease a finger through your slick folds. His lips twisted up against your own, a smile that was borderline a smirk against your lips, and his forehead met your own as he pulled back.

“I love knowing I can get you like this.” His lips still brushed against yours as he spoke, a single digit slipping into your entrance, and you arched up into him as the pad brushed along your walls slowly. He set a steady pace, picking up speed as he went, your jaw dropping a little, breath shared between you both as he moved.

He was taking his time, what you had expected would be fast and rough was turning out to be slow and passionate. You’d expected him to take one look at you in the pretty little number he’d bought you and almost tear it right off of you, to fuck you senseless until you were tearing up his back and screaming out loud enough that you’d bother the neighbours if the houses were connected, but instead, you were getting a night of lovemaking and torturous teasing.

A second finger prodded at your entrance, slipping into you with ease as your slick coated his fingers, arousal flowing from you without difficulty, and a cry of his name was dragged for your lips the second he crooked them while buried deep within you. “That’s right, baby. Call my name.”

“Tommy, please, stop teasing me!”

“Tell me what you want, baby love.” He pecked your lips sweetly as you whimpered, fingers slowing even more within you, deep and penetrating movements each time, though, your breath shallow in your lungs as your head began to spin and stomach began to tighten. “Use your words, pretty girl.”

The way his voice had twisted into something a little darker, something condescending that made you cry out, because it was just enough to leave you desperate and gasping as he dominated over you. “More. Faster, harder, anything, I just need more.”

“Yeah? I can do that for you.” He scissored his fingers as he pulled out, stretching your entrance to warm you up, that delicious burn creating a dull ache that was chased away by pure lust, your body shaking as he plunged his fingers back into you. He took it up, doing just as you’d asked, your eyes rolling back into your head with every subtle scrape of his blunt nails against your wall as he fucked your roughly onto his fingers, a filthy sound filling the room as he worked, your hips rocking up into his palm as you tried to meet his motions, clit rubbing against his palm through the layers of bunched up and pushed aside materials that blocked your entrance form him. “Feel you squeezin’ my fingers, angel, so tight. Just like you do when you’re wrapped around my cock. You want that?”

“Yes, yes, I do! Please!”

You could barely form words, the looming climax that was hanging over your head was making you dizzy, and he chuckled, kissing at your jaw, sucking what would become a dark bruise onto the hinge of your jaw, licking wetly over it once he was finished, and blowing cool breath over the wet patch, watching you tremble underneath him. “Tell me what you want, pretty baby. Use your words, or have I fucked you stupid, already?”

A growl on your lips, despite the fact that you’d never speak up, because every time he took on this kind of personality with you it drove you insane, and so you leaned dup inside, catching his lower lip in your teeth and tugging a little, a much louder and more threatening growl in return. His motions stilled, fingers buried deep inside of you, pads pushed up against your g-spot, the pressure making your entire body twitch and tremble at the stimulation, gasping out in need as you groaned.

“I said, use your words, not get sassy with me.”

“You stopped, don’t stop. I’m close, Tommy.” Your fingers brushed over his wrist, trying to get him to move, but he tutted, shaking his head, the tip of his nose brushing over yours.

“Use your words, honey, and you can have whatever you want.” He pulled his fingers out of you, a dirty sound following, and you cried out in distaste, before he was sucking on his fingers, and watching you carefully.

Heat flushed over your face as you watched him, tongue lapping at his fingers noisily as he cleaned them of your arousal, waiting for you to speak up with what you wanted, and you had to force yourself past your shyness, watching his eager enthusiasm as he stared you down, brows raised and waiting with a sultry look on his face. Kneeling back, he settled between your parted thighs, one finger snapping the soaked lace back into place over your folds, and your body jerked at the sting, legs snapping shut as a short but loud moan sounded from you as he did.

He grinned as he felt your thighs clamp around him a little, large hands smoothing up over your legs, undoing the clips that were holding up your stockings, eyes fixed on yours as he moved, in no hurry.

“Tommy..”

“Yes, my love? You got something to say to me?”

You pushed up on your hands, propping yourself up before him, and his eyes dropped down to the swell of your tits momentarily, caught in awe momentarily, and the confidence it gave you rushed through your body. “I want you to fuck me, Tommy. Fast and rough, real good, like I know you can. Make me scream, Thomas.”

“See? Now that wasn’t that hard, was it?” His hands hooked into the rest of the fabric, yanking it down your hips and off of your body, throwing it away to the floor. Calloused palms landed on your knees, pushing your thighs apart, and your body collapsed back into the bedding. “That’s all you had to say.”

You sneered a little, jumping as he pinched at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, before he was standing from the bed, palming at his evident erection through the worn thin cotton of his sweats, a slight wet mark forming on the front of his pants from the precum dribbling from his cock, before he was pushing them away down his legs. They pooled at his ankles, kicked away, and you reached out to him, curling a finger as you beckoned him closer to you.

Instead, he caught your hand, pulling your hand in towards him a little and curling your fingers around his length, a breathy sigh leaving him as you took the hint and pumped him slowly. Swiping the pad of your thumb over his head, he hissed a little as you brushed across the slit on his cock, collecting up the wetness that was beading there, and pulling your hand away, sucking the digit between your lips as he watched through half-lidded eyes.

Rolling down onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipped under his weight, bounding you up into his body, and he took your momentarily elevated height as an opportunity to press a rough kiss to your lips, one hand tangling in your hair. The taste of your own essence was spread to your lips, matching the salty taste of his arousal still lingering along your lips, making everything seem even more erotic.

Lining himself up, you felt him gasp into your mouth as he sank into your awaiting heat, your breath forced from your lungs as you felt him stretch you out in a way that had always worked so perfectly, the two of you syncing up in perfect harmony just the way you always did, his cock sitting snugly between your walls. He filled you up, a delicious friction with every ridge within you that dragged against him, every pulse he made making you pulse around him, a connection so deep and intimate that it made you flush every single time it happened.

One of your hands sat on his shoulders, the other weaving into his hair to scratch at his scalp lightly. “Kiss me, Thomas.”

“Thought you wanted me to make you scream?” He whispered, leaning down enough to catch your lips with his, not waiting for your response, soft kisses that seemed completely fractured from the moment, out of place or wrong, and yet completely and utterly right. Drags of lips over your own, making your racing heart skip a beat on your chest at the tenderness of the way he held you, your hand tightening in his hair until he groaned a little as you tugged on the strands, and your lips were stinging a little when he pulled back, his own red and swollen to match.

“I do want that, I just wanted some lovin’ first.”

“I'm always lovin’ on you, baby.” He smiled, stealing a final kiss from your lips, before he was pulling out, every inch of him dragging over your inner walls, pausing for only a second to prolong your sensual suffering, before he was slamming into you. A rough thrust that made every nerve within you light up, and you barely had time to process your own thoughts, to take a breath or cry out his name, before he was repeating the action.

The hand in his hair twisted even tighter, pulling on the soft strands as you held onto him, trying to ground yourself down to the earth. Every time together and you feel like you were floating in the clouds, reaching heaven with every thrust he delivered. The telltale signs of another climax were beginning to show, the coil in your stomach tightening and your body was lighting up with fire.

Cupping his face, your thumb smoothed over his cheek, feeling him lean into you, before he was slowing down for only a second in order to pull your hand down pinning it to the bed and lacing his fingers with your own. The tip of his cock was pressing up to the sweet spot inside of you, your back arching up, sweat beading along his skin with the speed of which he was filling you up, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “You’re always so damn tight, honey. Love the way you feel.”

You could only nod, the stretch of him tucked within you making every thought in your head seem to evaporate, and your hand slipped along his shoulder to his back. Nails digging into pale flesh, tearing tracks in mole-speckles skin that would show up red and raw, and he pressed up into your touch, the slightly biting pain being something that you knew he loved, especially when he really wanted to go wild. A deep noise in his throat, something between a groan and a growl, before he was pulling back, both hands slipping down your body.

He started at your chest, large hands cupping around and plump tits in his hands, groping tightly until you keened up into him with a whine, your hips rolling to meet his movements as he kept them going. You could barely breathe, the weight of your oncoming peak was crushing you, while burning you from the inside out and as though he had sensed it, he slowed down, barely moving now, letting you fuck yourself against him as you tried to coax him into action, but it was of no use.

Dipping down, he caught one stuff nipple between his teeth, a light nip that made you cry out, a sound that was high-pitched and sharp as your head spun, sense and focus fading away as your vision grew fuzzy, walls clamping around him. His mouth closed further over your breast, sucking the supple flesh into his mouth, teeth grazing soft skin as his tongue lapped leisurely at the buds that were standing taut for him, and he knew exactly how to press all of your buttons, years of experience working well for him. The other hand furthered your pleasure by toying with the mound on the other side of your chest, skilled fingers tugging and taunting until you couldn't take it anymore.

Your second orgasm of the night, spurred on simply by his obsession with your breasts, and yet it hadn't been the first time he would make you come simply by playing with them, and it wouldn't be the last.

“So reactive for me, sweetheart. How do you feel, hm?”

He pulled away, chin and cheeks a little shin from his own spit, a cold breeze sweeping over your chest, and he dipped down, giving the other the same treatment, without quite as much ferocity, and you could barely form words as you tried to reply, to tell him how good he always made you feel, but there wasn’t any competent ability left within you.

“Oh, have I fucked all the sense out of your pretty little head, huh?” You could only nod, watching as his ego inflated a little more before your very sights, his eyes sparkling with mischief and chest puffing out. One hand dragged along your stomach as he sat back fully, fingers spreading out across your stomach, his gaze following, and you grinned, watching as he did so. “How about I fuck something into you, huh?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He bit down on his lip, his cock pulsing within you, and you longed to know just what kind of images were going through his head that had garnered a reaction like that, and soon, his mouth was opening to spill it all to you, without you even needing to ask; “Thinkin’ ‘bout how pretty you’d look all swelled up with my baby in you, tits getting bigger, ready to feed our kid. Prettiest mom on the whole damn block, you’d be. All mine, making our family, one of these next Christmases, maybe they’ll be little feet wandering around, or you’ll be all around, ready to pop, give me a son or daughter, huh?”

“That what you want? You wanna’ put a baby in here, huh?” For emphasis, you squeezed around him, a threatening sound making itself known as a warning glare was mixed upon you, one that only fueled the inferno raging within you as you teetered on the building of your next peak. “Big talk, think you can live up to the hype? Been months now, you still haven’t knocked me up, Tommy. Better get to it.”

“You’re circling dangerous ground, baby. Better watch your fuckin’ mouth.” He hissed, leaning back over you, a dark look stitching into his features and you shrugged, trying to calm your heart as it threatened to break your ribs and burst right out of your chest.

“I don’t know, I’m just saying. Maybe, you’re not fucking me good enough.”

“Oh, I’m gonna’ show you who fucks good enough. I don’t want you to be able to walk or talk after this, I want your throat so torn up your attitude is kept inside.” Red flushed along his face, right down to his neck, and excitement was bursting through your body. With rough hands on your hips that would leave dotted bruises on your flesh come morning, you were flipped over, your stomach pressing into the bedding.

You gasped, his hands smoothing up along your back, before he was leaning over you, dripping and wet cock pressed to your thigh as he pinned you down to the bed. Hot breath washed over your cheek, before he was biting lightly on your earlobe, the bed dipping on either side of you as he knelt over you, and you pushed back into him. Rolling your hips up, he growled a little, pressing you back down into the bed even more.

“Behave, sweetheart, or I’m not letting you come until you’re crying for it.”

You stilled, going stiff at the simple threat, and he chuckled, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your shoulder, hands tracing up along your arms as he trusted you to keep them in place. Settling behind you, a loud smack was placed to your ass, the skin stinging deliciously as the patch flared up with heat, feeling him palm at the patch as he soothed it over a little, a yelp tearing from you when he repeated the action on the opposite side without warning, and you bit down on your lip just to muffle the sounds.

Your hips were pulled up, before hands on your shoulders were following, pulling you up until you were kneeling before him, a hand smoothing around your waist. He patted lightly at your stomach, rubbing over it carefully. His hands then dipped further down, two fingers parting your folds, rubbing lightly at the button nestled between your thighs, and your hips jumped up into his hand, a shaky sound emitted from you.

“C’mon, Tommy, it’s Christmas. Stop teasing me.”

“Okay, sweetheart, since you asked so nicely.” He mumbled, fingers dragging up your body, wet trails of your own arousal left on your skin, before he was slipping them between your lips. You sucked tightly, the taste of your own slick covering your tongue as you lapped at the digits, cleaning them off as he hummed happily into your ear, chin hooked over your shoulder. Your hand slipped down between your bodies, lining him up behind you, before he was easing into you.

His groan in your ear was drowned out by the loud mewls that you let out, fluttering and overly sensitive walls welcoming him back, gripping onto him tightly as he sank his full length within you. The second he was within you, his fingers were leaving your mouth, pushing you back down until your cheek was flush to the bedding, fingers digging into the blanket and nails threatening to tear at it as he wasted no time.

Hips snapping into your own, a bruising pace that would leave you with that ache between your thighs that always made you shake in the morning to follow as you remembered the way that he’d fucked you into oblivion. The sounds you were making were sure to be echoing off of every wall in the house, your throat raw, and you pushed back into him each time, trying to meet his motions, but the pace he was setting was far too fast, and your movements were sloppy in comparison. Your chest was tightening, every muscle in your body going stiff, and your fingers became fists as you tried to hold out a little longer, to not give in as quickly as you thought you might.

You could feel him nearing his edge, the husk of his voice getting a little deeper, cracking each time he edged closer to his own orgasm, his cock throbbing within your walls as he fucked you into the bed. One hand tangled in your hair, tugging at the roots as he pulled back your head, screams loud and uninterrupted for him to hear.

“That’s right, baby, nice and loud.” He tugged you back even further, a sharp cry in pain that made everything go into overdrive, before your back was pressing to his chest. One hand came to seal around your throat. Squeezing lightly, your noises cut off, going silent in your throat as your vision spotted. “Tell me again, baby, who doesn’t fuck you good enough?”

Your mouth opened again, no sounds coming out, simple squeals as he loosened his grip a little. The other hand was on your waist, gripping so hard that the area was beginning to tingle, blunt nails pressing into your skin, and your climax began washing over you. Your jaw going slack, your eyes rolled back as your head sat on his shoulder, and your screams had gone completely silent as white heat shot through your body. Every nerve lit up in your body, like fireworks going off in your core. He didn’t stop there, fingers slipping down to rub at your clit, your body jerking in his grip as broken gasps spilt out.

Sparks ran all along your body, tears lining your eyes as he abused the bud with his rapid-paced motions, and a scream tore from you as that same climax became doubly as strong, bliss taking you over as you felt boneless. He didn’t let up, not until your cheeks were wet and you were going limp in his arms, legs slick from your gushing arousal. When you couldn't take it anymore, crying in his grasp, he let you go, your entire body quivering while you settled on the mattress. His cock slipped from you for only a second as you were turned over in his arms.

He all but collapsed down on top of you, face pressed into your neck, chest pressed up to yours and you could feel his heart thudding against his chest and straight through to your own. With a few final thrusts, weak and desperate, he stiffened, ribbons of hot cum pumping out with your walls, making you whimper just at the feeling that would never be anything other than otherworldly bliss as he filled you to the brim.

“Fucking hell, I’ll never get used to that.” He mumbled, words muffled by where he was still pressed up against you, nose nuzzling into your hair, and your arms wrapped around him. He hissed a little, feeling your fingers smoothing along his body and brushing over the raw rips along his flesh, made by your nails in the heat of pleasure.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s hot as hell.” He teased, making to roll over when he felt you trying to laugh underneath him, and you squeaked as he took you with him, rolling your exhausted body up and on top of him. His hands found your hips, holding you down firmly onto him when you wiggled back towards the bedding. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?”

“Preferably onto the cool blankets. I love you, but you’re hot and sweaty, and so am I.” You mumbled, pressing yourself up over him, and his hands ran up and down your sides lightly, shrugging as he did. His hair was messy, skin flushed and shining with sweat, accompanied by swollen lips, looking like pure sin as he lounged beneath you.

“Nuh-uh, angel. I told you I was going to fuck a baby into you, and we’re not letting a drop go. Stay right where you are, keepin’ my cock nice and warm, and keeping you full of cum.” As if to emphasise his point, he tugged you down into him, and you chuckled as you found yourself leaning against a slightly sticky shoulder, nails scratching at the hairs on his chest as you tried to catch your breath properly. “Guess I gave you another kind of white Christmas, huh?”

You couldn’t contain your laughs, your body shaking a little above him as the pair of you snickered at his joke, yours out of exhausted embarrassment and his out of genuine humour and pride. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Hm, I didn’t marry you for your bad jokes, they were just an addition that I got burdened with.” You teased, a light spank landing on your ass, before both hands were settling on your cheeks, squeezing lightly, before he was jiggling gently, entertaining himself with those basic actions, your cheeks heating up and eyes rolling a little. “Having fun there?”

“A lot, actually. I love your ass.”

“Yes, well, not that I’m not used to it, but how long do you want me to lay here?” You mumbled, hand smoothing out over his chest, slipping around to sit on his side over his ribs instead, and snuggling down a little more to get comfortable.

“Just ‘til you’re pregnant.”

“Oh, great.” You teased, finding him puffing his chest up underneath of you, one of your fingers ping at his chest. “Excited to be a daddy?”

His half-hard cock twitched within you interestedly, and he groaned. “Don’t you dare ruin that word for me.”

“Which word?” You mused, one hand on his cheek, kissing along his stubbled jaw, up to his ear, licking lightly at the shell as he trembled under your touch. “Do you mean ‘daddy’?”

“Baby, please, stop it!” He whined a little, and you hummed, before pressing back a little along him, his length hardening with you as your hips rocked back into his own. He grunted, hold tightening on your body, but never stopping you, letting you rock back into him. Your clit was pressed up to his pelvis from this angle, a perfect friction for every grind, and he whined a little when you propped yourself up even more.

Nails digging into his chest, he stared up at you, tits bouncing and skin glowing in the dull light of the room, hair messy to match his, and you felt beautiful under his stare, watching as he licked at his lips, jaw gaping and eyes scanning along your body.

He eventually settled on the place where the two of you were connected, the simple rolls of your hips becoming more, as you settled into your position of riding his cock, bouncing up and down along his length, and beads of creamy cum leaked from you as you did. You could feel it, the mixtures of both of your arousals leaking from your body, a stick messy dotting the dark hairs curled at his base, before he was reaching a hand down, thumb pressing loosely to your clit, making bored motions as his other hand reached out.

You knew exactly what he wanted, the way his lips puckered, hips thrusting up to meet yours as he grew lazy underneath you, his eyes hooded and dark, a smirk on his lips, before he was bringing your mouth down to his.

Sloppy kisses that barely met the mark as such, his teeth dragging over your lips, tongues clashing and tangling together in wet knots as you moaned into his mouth, sounds quietened by one another as the sounds of teenage-style making out filled the room instead.

It was messy, and filthy, and completely effortless, but as you shook above him, a much lighter climax washing through your body, the final bit of energy that you had being spent, he chased after you, giving you what last he had, until it was dribbling out of you.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered, never letting up on his kisses, rolling you over a little as you tried to pull away to catch your breath, his mouth following in an unceasing assault against your own, giggles filling the air as he did. One leg hooked over his hip, the other flattening out, and he let you lay down at last. Pushing him away with one hand, he finally did as told, cock slipping from you, making out whimper a little at the soreness you craved finally being present, and you tried to roll away from the bed.

He reached out, with no energy left, his hand coming into contact with the bedding instead as you stood up. His eyes follow you though, a ridiculous boasting look glimmering in them as he watched his cum drip down your skin, barely being properly cleaned up by the handfuls of tissues you used.

You hadn't even made it two steps away from the bed, before he was reaching out, yanking you back down into the bed beside him, so that he could lay his head across your chest and wrap you up in his arms.

“Tommy, let me up.” You giggled, poking at the man who was half splayed out across you, the covers pulled up loosely over your bodies, pooled around his waist, and he grunted with discontent when your fingers stopped running along his back, nails dragging at his skin soothingly, to instead push at his shoulders. “Thomas!”

“Mh, no. I’m comfy, you’re warm.” His words were whispered, eyes fluttering a little, and you groaned, using all the strength you had to push him off of you and roll him over, placing a pillow to his chest as he reached out to latch onto you. He cracked an eye open when he felt the bed dip, watching as you edged toward the door, feet hitting the ground. “Where’re y’ goin’?”

“I love it when you get clingy and sleepy.” You teased, leaning back down to peck his lips, before making your way to the drawers, grabbing some fresh clothes for yourself, he made a grabbing motion at you, snatching loosely at the clothes you threw to him, catching none of them as they scattered around the messed up bedding around him, and his hand fell back down to the covers. “I have one more present for you.”

“I thought we did all the presents.” He sounded strained, sitting up as you pulled on a robe, tying it at the waist to keep the chill away, and shrugging a shirt onto his shoulders, a tremble running along him in the chill, before reaching for his boxers, watching you inquisitively.

“Well, I had one more. I wanted to do it with our friends, but we didn’t get to, and this gift just wouldn't be the same over the camera. We can tell them at New Years.”

“What does that mean?” There was a playful curiosity in his voice now, and you winked, backing out of the door, and making your way through to the bathroom, and into the cabinet where you kept all of your feminine products, a place Thomas only ever entered upon your request, to retrieve the secret little bag stuffed with wrapping paper that lay within. “Baby, what does that mean?”

“Have some patience!” You yelled back, wiping up a packet of tissues as you went, before padding back along the cool floorboards to the warmed carpet of the bedroom, jiggling it a little at him. He was sitting up now, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to shake himself awake, and you moved to kneel beside his legs, clutching onto it and placing the tissues down onto the bed beside you.

“Is it messy?”

“What?”

He took the package, ribbon on top sealing it shut, and he nodded his head to the packet you’d put down. “The tissues; is it messy? Oh, is it flavoured condoms?” He smirked, your jaw dropping a little as you laughed.

“Would you want to open a packet of flavoured condoms in front of your friends at Christmas Day dinner?”

He cringed, shaking his head. “Okay, you got me. I’m at a loss. Can I open it?”

You nodded, thumb flicking under the packet of the tissues to open them up, watching as he nimbly undid the ribbons, and you pulled one of the soft, folded papers out. Parting the sides of the bag, he stared inside, a single object sitting within, and he squinted at it for a moment as he tried to decipher what he was holding, and what exactly it was said, before his eyes widened.

He flipped it over in his hands, holding it carefully now within two fingers, dropped jaw and watering eyes, before finally looking up to you. “You win.”

“Told you I would.”

“You win this year, you win next year, you just won every Christmas for the rest of our lives.”

“I know.” You teased, watching as a tear dropped from his eye, wiping it away gently, and he trembled a little, bringing his hand up to your wrist to pull your hand away from his face, tugging you in closer.

“It’s real?”

“You think I’d fake it?” You joked, your own eyes watering, and he let out a breathless and shaky laugh.

“And you’re totally sure?”

“I had an appointment the other week to confirm it, they called a few days ago. One hundred percent positive.” He was crying again, snatching the tissues from your hand to instead pull you closer, a needy kiss pressed to your lips, as he tried to calm himself down, to bring himself to earth, and wet cheeks slid against your own, a smile on his lips despite trying to kiss you.

“I’m going to be a dad?”

“Yeah, baby. This is the start of our family.” He pushed you back, rolling you into the bedding as the packaging and gifts were discarded. He pecked your lips one final time, before he was tugging at the knots on the front of your robe and lifting your shirt, hands pressing over your stomach lightly.

His fingers were smoothing over your skin, featherlight touches, complete awe on his face as he stared down at your torso, and he grinned widely, dipping down to kiss at your navel lightly. “I love you so much, little one. I already know you’ll be amazing.”

“It’s about the size of  a grain of rice right now, Tommy.” You laughed a little as his hands smoothed around to your sides, cheek pressing to your stomach as he laid down, and your fingers wove into his hair lightly.

“I don’t care, I love them. Boy or girl, whoever they become, they’re perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Thomas.” You whispered, his eyes meeting yours, chin balanced on your flesh, and he smiled, a kind of content softness that only you ever got to see.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” He turned back, nose nuzzling at your stomach. “And, Merry Christmas to you, little one.”

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​

prompt: “we’re divorced?” 

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :)  this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died. 

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England. 

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them. 

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions. 

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.” 

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.” 

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light. 

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel. 

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where. 

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips. 

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice. 

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.  

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy. 

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her. 

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

-

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity. 

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground. 

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see. 

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his. 

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending. 

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky. 

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-” 

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies. 

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’. 

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.” 

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?” 

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?” 

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.” 

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart. 

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.” 

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.”  Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty. 

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised. 

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.” 

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”  

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.” 

-

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room. 

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!” 

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?” 

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.” 

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed. 

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

Maybe WE don’t believe in YOU!

It’s throwback Thursday time ... this is a goodie from 2009 (dragged kicking and screaming from Gossamer) ... oi, these things amuse me at times :)

any and all errors are from the original post and have not been changed to preserve giggles and chuckles :)

@today-in-fic​

&&&&&&&&&&

He saw her sitting halfway up the bleachers, amidst yelling parents and clapping children. He knew she'd gone outside a good 15 minutes ago but since she'd neglected to come back, he though he'd better go and collect her. He didn't move fast, more at his usual long-strided amble given there wasn't much to hurry about anymore. Since the police station was next to the elementary school fields, he didn't have far to walk; soon standing beside the rickety aluminum riser seats.

She didn’t notice him at first but when she did a general sweep of her surroundings, as was natural habit at this point, she lit on his face staring up at her and with a barely noticed head-tilt, she gave him a half smile.

Figuring this was an invite of the most discreet kind, he picked his way through the scattered crowd, settling next to her without a word. Silently, they sat together through the last minutes of the game as well as through the exodus of people, kids, strollers and family dogs.

It wasn't until the last person stepped off the field that Mulder turned to her, squinting against the late afternoon sun, "hi."

Pushing her hair back, only to have the light breeze ruffle it again, "hi."

"So, got a little tired of Sheriff Blowhard and his parade of blightless minions?"

"A little. There's only so much blowharding and blightlessness one can take. Besides,” nodding towards the now deserted field, "they looked like they needed another fan."

Knocking shoulders with her gently, "you know, if we get our paperwork done, we can get the hell out of Dodge."

Holding silent for a moment, "promise me our next case won't be like this. I don't think I can do this again anytime soon."

"Well, I'll try to order us up a nice, juicy monster but don't hold your breath."

"Just promise to try. That's all I ask."

One glance into her tired, dull eyes made him nod, "promise."

"All right then." Standing and holding her hand out to him, "let's, as you put it, get the hell out of Dodge."

"If only the place was actually called Dodge."

"Getting the hell out of Parson Village doesn't exactly have the same ring to it, does it?"

Finally down on the ground, they walked back across the parking lot, "not really."

&&&&&&&&&

Working through the last of the forms, they said good-bye and left, glad to be leaving the place behind them. The drive back to the hotel was quiet but a companionable quiet, one where Mulder left the radio off and Scully stared out the open window, enjoying the fresh air and the colors of the setting sun.

Back at the hotel, "do you still want to leave now or wait until the morning?"

He knew she would prefer to go than stay and since he wasn't tired, "now works for me." Checking out went by in a flash and once Mulder had made a not so secretive trip to the vending machines, they were off, "you sure you want to drive first? I'm awake."

Scully just turned the car on, "I'm good for now. I'll let you know when it's your turn."

"Fair enough." Putting his seat back to a decent incline, he settled in, "mind if we keep the windows open for awhile?"

She gave him a smile, "as long as you don't mind me having the wind blown look."

"Naw, you wear it well."

"Okay, now you're just buttering me up."

With a laugh, he rested one arm at his side, the other on the middle compartment, hand dangling by the shifter, "just say thanks, Scully."

"Thanks, Mulder."

He was feeling a bit mischievous but held off until they had been on the road for a few minutes. From his position, he could tell no one else was on the quiet country road and in a fairly nonchalant way, he made like he was turning on the radio but instead, pushed the shifter forward into neutral.

The engine revved, Scully looked around in panic, then saw Mulder's hand beside the stick, "what the hell?" Shoving it back in drive, she swung and hit him near full force in the chest, "are you insane?"

Now for the fun part.

Wincing, he curled his arms to his chest, pretending the blow had actually hurt him, "damn. I was just gonna turn the radio on. I bumped it on accident." Plastering an appropriate grimace on his face, "there's less painful ways to kill me, you know."

Her face scrunching in honest apology, "I'm so sorry. I thought you did it on purpose. I … I'm sorry."

Rubbing his chest for good measure, "remind me to ask before moving next time." The urge to laugh nearly won but he held it in, "I feel extremely sorry for any suspects on the receiving end of your fist."

Automatically reaching over, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay." Wondering how long she'd keep her hand there, "was kind of funny though, wasn't it?"

She shrugged, "maybe it will be later but right now, I just feel bad."

"No harm, no foul, right?"

Keeping her hand on him with no sign of letting go, "right."

&&&&&&&&&

They switched places a few hours later, Scully beginning to yawn and stretch to keep herself awake. Mulder, who'd managed a nap, readjusted the seat and mirrors before looking over at her, "all set?" Head already lolling on the seat and eyes closed, she only nodded.  As always amused by the swiftness she could fall asleep, he pulled the car out of the gas station and back on the freeway.She slept for about a half-hour, then woke again when he hit a bump in the road, "sorry."

Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, "no, it's okay." After re-positioning the seat back, she stared out the window for a minute before, "where are we, anyway?"

When he turned to look around, she swiftly reached over, flipping a small switch on the dash, "we're about 10 miles from the middle of nowhere."

"That's specific."

He gave her a lopsided grin before looking back through the windshield.

She wondered how long it would take for him to notice.

Not long, she soon discovered.

Taking a cursory glance at the speedometer, he slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward slightly, "what the hell?" When he had looked, he saw in horror that he was doing 120. Still talking to himself, "there's no way in hell I was doing 120."

Playing along, "what?! You're going 120? I don't need to die tonight, Mulder."

"I didn't realize …"

"Just slow the hell down!!"

He shrank into the seat and heart pounding, he brought his speed back to 75 but when looking out the window, he would swear they were nearly crawling. She then watched him look from the speedometer to the road to the speedometer once again, then to the smile she couldn't contain, "why the hell are all the gauges in metrics now?"

Reaching over, she re-flipped the switch, turning everything back to normal, "did you really think I'd let the neutral thing go unanswered?"

Instead of being annoyed, he looked at her admirably, "nice."

&&&&&&&&&

She was sound asleep again an hour later when Mulder discovered he was contemplating how long he could shut his eyes before it got dangerous. Poking his finger into Scully's thigh, "hey, you awake?"

When she only mumbled, he knew they were both done for the night but with only an hour left to go, he debated pushing it.

Until he heard his tires running on the rumble strip.

Yeah, it was time to stop.

Especially when he saw it … a bright beacon of hope in the distance.

Wal-Mart.

24-hour, anyone can sleep in the damn parking lot, beautiful, shiny Wal-Mart.

He pulled off the exit ramp and soon, he stopped the car in the center of a vast expanse of parking lot. Cracking the windows so they wouldn’t suffocate, he put his seat back, stretched and promptly fell asleep.

A blissful sleep that lasted almost a full two hours, until, “what the hell?”

The sound of her voice jolted him upright and his hand caught the horn, beeping it obnoxiously as he blinked against the painfully bright light in his eyes, “huh?”

By now, she was rolling down the window and being the least polite he’d ever heard her, “what!?”

The flashlight lowered but all Mulder could see was the spot it had burned into his retinas. The spot spoke in a low, male voice, “evenin’ folks.”

Again, Scully rolled off with, “what!?!”

“Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

He could feel Scully building rapidly towards some other, more improper phrases and heading her off with a hand on her arm, “we were tired and thought we’d take a nap instead of wrapping ourselves around a telephone pole.” As the spot began to fade, he could make out an older gentleman behind the lowered flashlight, “I thought people could park and sleep here for the night?”

“RVs can park but ya’ll aren’t in an RV so I thought maybe you were havin’ some trouble.”

Hearing Scully sigh resignedly through her nose, he spoke again, “no trouble, sir. Just tired.”

“Well, ya’ll be careful.”

As he turned and walked away, Mulder looked at her irate expression, “hi.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

Unbuckling her belt, “I have to go to the bathroom and you’re coming with me.”

Opening his door, “why are you pissed at me? I didn’t scare the shit out of you with a flashlight.”

“Just come on.”

She stalked across the parking lot, Mulder trotting to catch up, then settling into an easy gait until they got to the store entrance, “are you gonna make me come in with you or do I get to wait outside the door?”

With eyes narrowed, she left him in the entryway and disappeared into the ladies room. Deciding to go himself, he still beat her back and was leaning on the wall when she came out drying her hands on her jeans. She seemed calmer and leaning next to him, “I’m hungry.”

Gesturing through the doors that led to the actual store, “I bet there’s something in there, if you’re willing to risk it.”

“Lead the way, partner.” Both were shocked by the amount of people in the store, “what time is it anyway?”

Finding her wrist with his hand, he twisted her watch around until he could read it, “um, 1:15.”

“Why are all these people here? Don’t they have homes and beds?”

“Insomniacs make the best shoppers.”

She let a small chuckle escape her nose, “just find me something to eat.”

Well, she should have known not to A) shop when she was hungry and 2) shop with Mulder. She should have also put her foot down when he suggested getting a cart.

An hour later, they were finally through the checkout.

Scully had found some sandwiches, drinks and chips for them both, then stupidly gave Mulder control of the cart. He immediately steered towards the entertainment section and was soon pawing through the $3.99 DVD bin.

That killed a half-hour right there. Damn those bins and their B-movie classics.

After he’d found several handfuls of movies, he veered through men’s clothing for socks, housewares for a new shower curtain (which Scully silently thanked God about), hardware to replace the two flashlights he’d left in their hotel rooms, back to menswear  for the underwear he’d forgot on the first trip (black boxer briefs, much to Scully’s amusement), then finally through women’s clothing, where he stopped in front of a rack of slogan t-shirts.

Standing for a moment, he studied them, then picked one up with an alien beside a spaceship who was pointing out and stating, “maybe WE don’t believe in you.” Holding it against her for a second, he tossed it in the cart and finally moved to the check-out.

She followed, dumbfounded by the last hour of her life, “Mulder … why …?”

“Shhhh, it’s too late to argue and too early to win.”

Whatever the hell that meant, she graciously allowed him to pay for their food, along with the industrial size Payday bar she tossed in at the last minute.

&&&&&&&&&&&

As they ate their makeshift dinner sitting in the car, “why did you buy me that t-shirt? Do you really think I’m gonna wear it?”

Grinning with a mouthful of half-chewed turkey, “you will. You’ll be getting dressed for something and you’ll just get the urge to put it on. So you will and you’ll realize you like it and that’ll be that.”

“Is this how you get your shopping done because I can see why your cupboards are bare.”

“Never ask about a man’s shopping habits.”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Trade you sandwiches?”

He handed the rest of his sandwich to her immediately, taking her partially eaten roast beef in its place, “no dressing?”

“Nope.”

“So much to teach you, grasshopper.”

&&&&&&&&&

“I’ll drive if you want me to.”

Scully shook her head, “naw, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not tired now so I’ll keep you awake.”

With a grin in his direction, “God help me.”

“God’s probably asleep Scully. All you got is me.”

“Again, God help me.”

&&&&&&&&&&

They were finally navigating Washington’s outskirts by 3:30. He watched her staring ahead and fought the demon lurking inside him.

He really shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

It would be evil and wrong and cruel and more than likely funny as all hell … if she didn’t kill him afterwards.

 …

He’d risk it.

Waiting another minute or so, he spied a light blinking in the distance and as they approached it, he braced his feet against the floor. Once they were about 10 feet away, he yelled, gripping the dashboard and the doorframe, “blinking yellow!!!”

She locked up the brakes, as expected, and bought the car to a screeching halt. The stop flung both forward, then back against their seats, with Scully screaming in his ear, “son of a bitch … it’s yellow Mulder! I don’t have to stop for a blinking yellow!”

Looking at her with as much seriousness as he could muster, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Then why the hell did you yell ‘blinking yellow’ in my ear!?”

“I didn’t know if you saw it.”

He had never witnessed her nostrils flaring before and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, she looked kind of cute doing it but … “are you trying to get us killed?”

He was now smiling despite the fact she had steam shooting out her ears, “there was no one behind us. I checked.”

Another nostril flare came his way before she turned the car off, still sitting in the middle of the intersection, got out and moving to his side of the car, pulled open the door, “drive.”

Still grinning, he scrambled over the gearshift, Scully sliding smoothly into his seat, putting her head back and closing her eyes.

Silence, he had not expected. Yelling, hitting, yes but not quiet. Quiet from Scully meant planning, concocting, calculating, organizing … quiet meant bad things … quiet meant very deep piles of shit with him underneath.

“Scully …”

“Home.”

Suddenly sober, he restarted the car, “I was just playing.”

“Home,” she repeated, then, instead of returning to sleep, she dug some gum from the glove compartment and proceeded to chew a wad of it, very loudly.

Now, he could take bullets, he could take slime, he could take beratement of the highest degree and, as demonstrated, he could even take bile but he absolutely despised the cud-chewing noises she was making. He withstood it for a long as humanly possible before, “could you please get rid of that? You sound like a damn cow.”

“You want me to get rid of the gum?”

“Yes!”

“Where do you want me to put it?”

His mistake was answering too quickly, “anywhere. I don’t care. Just stop chewing it.”

“Okay then.” Undoing her seatbelt, she twisted so she faced him, and in a gracefully disgusting move, she rolled the gum in her fingers, then proceeded to push it up his nose.

He knew something was coming and completely powerless to stop it, he just sat there as a thumb-size chunk of grape Hubba-Bubba was fitted into his right nostril.

She then calmly sat back down and re-buckled herself in.

He left the gum there as he turned to her, “Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder.”

“I believe we’re even now.”

Her belly laugh echoed off the windows and he began laughing as well, slipping the gum from his nose and putting it in his mouth.

Through her laughter, she grimaced, “eww, that’s disgusting.”

“But it’s grape.”

&&&&&&&&&

They finally made it to Mulder’s apartment and since her brain had drifted completely, she didn’t really notice where they were until he stopped the car, “why are we here?”

“Literally or existentially because I don’t think I can take a metaphysical discussion at the moment?”

“Literal.”

“You drove. You drop me off then drive yourself home.”

“Where’s your car, Mulder?”

Pointing to where he always parked, he saw an empty spot, “your house.” His head dropped to the steering wheel, “damn.” Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, “I’ll take you home.”

“No. I want out of the damn car and I want to go to sleep. Right now.”

“Then grab the bags from the store … I’ll get the suitcases.” They managed to make it in his door before dropping everything simultaneously. Mulder then re-picked up her bag and set it in his bedroom, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I will. I shoved gum up your nose.”

“And I yelled ‘blinking yellow’.”

Contemplating for a half second, “you’re right.”

He gave her a grin, “just help me change the sheets first.” Nodding, she had the bed stripped by the time he came back with a clean set. They finished in no time and he stepped back, nodding his head, “two people make that way faster.”

“Anytime Mulder but for now, I’m using your bathroom then going to bed.”

“Aye, aye captain.”

Meeting him in the hall on the way back from the bathroom, “g’night, Mulder.”

“’Morning, Scully.”

Before going to the bedroom, she grabbed one last thing, then changed, crawled under the clean sheets and was out before her head hit the pillow.

&&&&&&&&&&

He woke up leisurely. The phone hadn’t rung, no one had knocked on his door, obnoxious garbage men hadn’t rattled the dumpsters … he had woken up because he had finally caught up on his sleep. Marveling at the idea, he stood and moved silently towards his bedroom to check to see if she was awake yet.

Finding her spread eagle on her stomach, covers twisted around her and bare leg sticking out, foot hanging off the side of the bed, he nearly laughed when he saw her wearing the neon green t-shirt he’d bought the night before.

Deciding to let her sleep, he went to the bathroom, then made himself a bowl of cereal. By the time he’d sat down with his second helping, he heard the creak of his bedroom door. Looking up, he saw her standing there, hair tousled, eyes partially open, wearing only the t-shirt, which fell to mid-thigh. Swallowing the frogs in her throat, “’morning.”

After a glance at the DVD player’s clock, “afternoon.” Without comment, she padded across the cool floor and dropped down next to him, curling her legs underneath her. Covering them with his blanket, she reached over, took the spoon and helped herself to a large spoonful of cereal. Shaking the milk off, she had it nearly to her mouth when he finally spoke, “I thought you said you’d never wear that shirt?”

As the cereal entered her mouth, her lips quivered in the slightest of smiles, “shut up, Mulder.”

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 7

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention, mention of dead loved one (Marcus’s wife), brief nudity, kissing

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Here’s the next chapter! I wanted to let them have a moment to just be together after everything that happened, and this was one (of many) of them. Enjoy!

“I just don’t understand why it’s not working. It doesn’t make sense.”

Sometimes she wondered why she had to be a supervisor that knew how to code. If she were non-technical, like many of her past managers, she could have simply told the developer to do some code reviews with his colleagues. Well, it wouldn't have been that simple either way, but at least she would get to go home.

Erin sighed and sat down by Brian’s desk. The empty coffee cups and notebook with scribbled ink was a familiar sight, though his desk did seem to be missing one crucial thing: a rubber duck. “Let’s just take a step back and go through the logic, ok? So we have that….”

She and the developer went through the specifications for the updates and the high-level implementations that needed to be done. It seemed like he managed to get most of the framework for the code set up; all that was left was, well, writing the code and making sure it was correct. However, the deadline for shipping the code was coming up in the following days, and he was still at the debugging stage.

Although it had been a while since she’d programmed anything in a work-related context, she thanked the CS gods that she still remembered enough to take on some of the debugging. Conveniently, Brian had prior commitments that night and needed to leave on time–as if an engineer’s shift was ever truly over. But while there were others who could help out, something told her that it would be faster if she did some of the debugging herself. After all, she’d just spent half an hour reasoning through the logic.

“Why don’t you finish up as much as you can, push your changes to the repo, and I’ll take a look later?” she suggested, scanning the code. At first glance it looked fine–as most code normally did–but there were obviously issues somewhere that caused all the tests to fail. “I have some other work to do, but if we can get everything ready within the next couple days I don’t think they will mind the update being slightly delayed.”

With that, Erin went back to making her rounds through the work area, picking up any stray folders and getting last-minute status updates from the others. The sky was already dark, any trace of the sun long gone. Normally she would be getting ready to leave soon, but there was more work to do ahead of the op she was leading.

Ignoring the vibrations of her phone, she made her way back to her office and set up her desk to keep working. One thing she’d learned over her years of experience as a supervisor was that an organized desk was crucial for concentration. If only other aspects of her life were as organized as her desk.

It had been days since she found out about Marcus’s secret identity, but she couldn’t help but still feel utterly stupid. She was stupid to think that she could move on. That she, for once, was enough.

The truth was that she was never enough. She wasn’t enough to bring Marcus back after his disappearance, and she wasn’t enough to make hiding his past life unbearable.

She would have been lying if she said she didn’t consider breaking things off. But at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He said that he and Pike were the same, that everything they had was real. And if that was true, then maybe things would get better. They could try to make things work, and show up for each other. After all, wasn’t that what caused the mess anyways? Them not being there for each other at the most important moments?

Someone knocked on her door.

Erin didn’t look up from her work. “Come in.”

“Hi honey.”

This time she looked up, a small smile on her face. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home with Missy?”

Marcus chuckled softly. “I guess I should, but my mom convinced her to stay the night so that we could have some alone time,” he explained, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. Eyes twinkling, he lifted a paper bag. “I texted you asking what you wanted for dinner but you didn’t reply, so I got your favorite.”

Now she really was smiling. “You brought canh chua? I’m sorry I didn’t reply, I’ve been running around the department trying to get everything together.”

“It’s alright; I figured you were busy, so I wanted to make sure you at least had dinner,” he said, pulling out the container of soup along with some utensils and a couple to-go bowls. “I know you love the bạc hà, so I asked for extra. They’re in one of the small containers, so we can add them in ourselves.”

“You’re too good to me.” Erin pushed her laptop to the side so he had more room to organize the slew of containers. The tamarind-flavored soup was often a treat rather than a regular meal, one that she normally savored in the cozy atmosphere of the Vietnamese restaurant. Her heart melted a little as she realized that Marcus had to have driven across town to get it from the restaurant.

“You deserve only the best.”

Some containers were filled with jasmine rice, fragrant and pillowy. Others overflowed with toppings like aromatic cilantro, spicy Thai chilis, and crisp bean sprouts. And, as promised, there was an extra container with fresh slices of bạc hà, the spongy stem of the elephant ear plant.

Her mouth watered as she helped fill the bowls with rice and soup, letting the golden broth soak into the grains. The tomatoes and pineapple chunks were perfectly cooked and plump, brightening the salty, nearly fruity, broth.

When she pushed the bowl towards Marcus he shook his head. “You eat first, Rin. You’ve had a long day. How was work?”

“Tiring,” she scoffed lightly, adding a questionable amount of chili to her bowl. The soup was still pleasantly warm when she scooped some into her mouth, the salt giving way to the fruity sourness and inferno of chilis. She moaned in satisfaction, “This is exactly why you are my favorite person in the whole world. Thank you for bringing this, brown eyes.”

He smiled softly, adding a significantly smaller amount of chili to his bowl. “Of course, honey. Just like the old times, huh?”

At that, Erin sighed. Sometimes she forgot that her memories of Marcus Pike were really of Marcus Moreno, and it still hadn’t ceased to be jarring when that realization hit. “Yeah.”

Noticing her hesitation, Marcus looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that–”

“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted, waving him off. “I just...I missed this. Us in an office sharing food in the evening. I never thought I’d ever get to experience this again, but now you’re here.”

His eyes softened and he reached over to hold her hand in his. Stroking the back of her hand softly, he said, “I know. I missed this too.” He shifted in his seat. “And I know we can’t go back to what we were before, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to separate our memories. They’re ours, honeydew. Nothing can take that away.”

“I know,” she said, eyes burning. “I’m sorry I’m not as happy–”

“It’s alright,” he interjected gently. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

And, if she would let him, he was going to spend the rest of his days showing her how much she meant to him. It was a mistake–a huge one–to hide from her for that long. If time was money, he’d cost her so much. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to give those years back to her, but he could make the most of their time in the present. Now he just hoped his paperwork would get approved at HQ.

“I’m just so tired,” she said quietly.

Of everything. Of being herself, and of feeling like the biggest fool in the world for not realizing the man she loved had been in her life eight years ago.

She’d long since stopped caring about what her colleagues thought, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pride herself on her intelligence and knack for details. With everything, she wasn’t quite sure what hurt most: the blow to her pride, or the fact that Marcus had lied.

But deep down, a part of her was happy. He finally came back, and while the past was wrought with cracks, the future felt...secure. And if there was anything she knew about Marcus, it was that he wore his heart on his sleeve, and that he wanted to stay for the long run. She knew that, no matter what, he wanted to make things right.

“Why don’t we head home after this, then?” he suggested, lips quirked up in a small smile. “They can’t get too mad if the smartest woman in the bureau takes the night off.”

---

“Would you like to stay?” she asked, unlocking the door to her apartment. Marcus’s car was parked in the visitors’ parking area, and it was starting to get late. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’d love to, if you’ll have me,” he answered, heat rushing up to his cheeks when her eyes met his. Even after all this time, he couldn’t get over the way she looked when she smiled at him like that. When she looked at him like he was everything she ever wanted.

They settled into the apartment as usual, with Erin checking on her plants and Marcus helping to plug in her laptop. Something about the way Erin moved around in the space was just...right. He’d seen her navigate government buildings and sites for operations, but at home, there was a different kind of confidence about her. It was a confidence that he knew only a select few were allowed to see.

Once they reached the bedroom, Marcus kissed her forehead and went into her bathroom. “Stay here, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

Erin let out a huff of laughter at his eagerness, resigning to putting away her bag and changing into more comfortable clothes. As much as she loved a good suit, she also loved the warmth of sweatpants and the softness of silk. But seeing as she still needed to wash up for the night, she slipped on a silk nightgown, the hem stopping just above her knees.

Eventually, Marcus returned and led her into the bathroom, presenting her with a bathtub full of gardenia-scented bubbles and steaming water. He’d also found her electronic candles, placing them strategically so she could see in the dimmed lighting.

“It’s perfect, Marcus. Would you like to join me?” she asked, biting her lip in anticipation. The bathtub was just large enough for two people, and she wanted to know what it would feel like to be with him in her most vulnerable state. After all the secrets and waiting, she just wanted more .

He shook his head, trying to not let his mind linger too long on the way her nightgown hugged her chest like liquid gold. As much as he wanted to be with her, something told him that it wasn’t the right moment. “You’ve had to take care of yourself for so long, honey. Let me take care of you, ok?”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Their lips melded together as their resolve grew strained. She tasted sweet and intoxicating, and it took all his strength to not give in. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. You’re my queen, and I want to make you feel good. Is that alright?”

She hummed softly and kissed him again. A low moan escaped her lips. “You really know how to make a woman conflicted, Marcus.”

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit.”

“I know you are. I’m just glad you’re here now,” she said. Pulling away, she stepped up next to the bathtub. Slipping the straps off her shoulders, she suggested, “If you’re not going to join me in here, why don’t you get comfortable and keep me company?”

The bath felt as amazing as it looked, the hot water melting away the tension in her muscles and the bubbles acting as a blanket to keep her modesty. Well, not that she hadn’t undressed in front of Marcus, but she wanted to keep some parts of her a surprise.

After some shy laughs, Marcus stayed by her side the entire time, sitting on the edge of the tub. It was just wide enough for him to sit comfortably, close enough that they could talk softly and he could help wash her hair. The golden glow of the candles and the warmth from the bath soothed their nerves until they were just two people in love.

Relaxed and back in her nightgown, Erin sat on her bed and checked her emails one more time. Thankfully, there weren’t any that she needed to reply to.

“Careful, hot tea incoming.”

She smiled up at Marcus, who was holding out a cup of steaming pu erh tea. Accepting it, she remarked, “I’m surprised you were able to find the tea leaves.”

“It helped that I remembered that you always have a designated cabinet.”

“I guess not that much has changed after all these years,” she said, sipping from the cup. As she did, she wondered if it was just herself that hadn’t changed.

“Dance with me?”

Her eyes widened in confusion when he broke the silence. “Hm?”

Marcus held out a hand, which she instinctively reached for. “Dance with me. Please?”

It didn’t take long for her to give in, setting the cup down on the nightstand. They swayed slowly in the bedroom, moonlight streaming in. Although there wasn’t any music, it was just what they needed. They just needed a moment in each other’s arms.

Erin’s head rested against his chest, the warmth from his body sinking into her. “I missed you so much,” she said softly.

“I missed you too.”

He missed her too.

But there was still something nagging at the back of her mind. Part of her didn’t want to disturb the peace, but she also wanted answers. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to ask him. Maybe it would undo everything. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Can you tell me about your wife? Missy’s mom? Did she..?”

Marcus sighed softly, but not out of frustration. No, it was the kind that was borne of fondness. His arms tightened around her. “Yeah. We actually met not too long after I had my documents changed back. I didn’t want to tell her. I wanted a fresh start, but I still felt very much like Marcus Pike rather than Marcus Moreno. So, I told her about my past and we went from there.” A soft chuckle. “She was definitely shocked, but it was different because she never knew me as Pike, only Moreno.”

She wasn’t you, he wanted to say.

“I’m glad she knew,” she replied, snuggling closer to him. At least he told her, the mother of his child. It was...comforting to know that he hadn’t been all alone during those years. Eight years was a long time to keep a secret. “And what about now? Do you still feel like Marcus Pike?”

“Some days I feel more like Pike,” he admitted. “But with Missy and the Heroics, I feel like I’ve settled into being Marcus Moreno. It took a few years, but….Pike will always be a part of me. It wasn’t ever not me, just…a different side.”

“I see.” When his arms shifted, Erin clung to him tighter. “Don’t leave. Please.”

Marcus kissed her temple, his lips soft and warm. “Never again, honey. I’ll be here until you’re tired of me.”

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Hey! Not sure if my previous request sent so I’m going to send it again, sorry. Can you do a scenario where Tomura, Tamaki, and Hawks have a s/o with thick thighs who often gets embarrassed about how big they are? And the guys just lay on their thighs and it’s super fluffy? You can obviously ignore this if you want

It did don’t worry, I understand tumblr can be a pain sometimes! Ah, i feel like i may have deviated from the specifics of your request, i’m sorry >< hope you enjoy nonetheless ^^” Also it’s pretty long so i put it under a read more :>

Tomura, Tamaki, and Hawks with a s/o with thick thighs who often gets embarrassed about them scenarios!

Tomura:

It was hard to complain - or say anything, really - when you could see the tall, thin-legged woman in the video game Tomura played while you sat idly to his left on the sofa. Almost as if through instinct you brought the blanket that sat wrapped at his back over your legs. You’d thrown it over him earlier, and after some time he’d shrugged it off as if he got too hot. Yet there he was, looking for all the world offended and downright robbed as you took the blanket.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked, clearly pouting at you for robbing him of such cuddly, fuzzy warmth. Apparently. It was getting late, and sleepiness coated his voice.

“I’m... cold.”

Tomura made a face - one that clearly called you a liar, before he actually did so. “Liar.”

You knew better than to lie to him, he’d coax it out of you somehow. “It’s just... y’know, my legs. They’re big...” Your voice was meek and tiny.

“So? Mine are bony.” He shrugged away.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the genuine confusion in his voice. It was cute in his own way, and he admitted to being bony so unabashedly you didn’t know how else to react. He gave a huff you couldn’t quite translate and tossed his controller onto the coffee table, then switching off the TV and literally plopping his head into your lap while he lay on his side. You thought about protesting, but you knew how childish and bratty he could be when you denied him comfort.

Forefinger rubbing circles on your thigh, Tomura dug his face into your legs like a cat begging for rubs, his hand then gently grabbing the thigh furthest from it.  “Don’t be embarrassed around me. I like them,” he said plainly into your skin, though you knew he meant it. “This would be really uncomfortable for both of us if they were small, right?”

“W-well...” Getting the lump in your throat unstuck proved quite a feat, your cheeks and ears feeling like they’d been set aflame. You didn’t let him touch your thighs often, as it was just too... much, so for him to rest his head on them and caress them, it was unexpected. But pleasant and sweet nonetheless. You couldn’t help but brush his hair away from his face, and in doing so revealed serenely closed eyes and a sleepy pout that made your lips curl upward.

“Quite staring, it’s rude,” you hear him jut, before he moves his face to hide the fresh redness of his almost sickly-pale skin, and you stifle a giggle. A few moments of serene silence pass before he’s shifting to glance up at you again, eyes honest and ever-so-innocent somehow. “Hey, I like this. Don’t hide from me anymore, alright? I don’t care about something like that. I want to do this more often.” It’s not like he could tell you not to he embarrassed in general. But he at least didn’t want you embarrassed around him. Tomura brought a hand up to your cheek to gently glide along your cheek with three of this fingers. The touch was so gentle and sweet, it was almost like he was afraid you were made of glass and would shatter.

He turned on his side to adjust his legs across the sofa and settled in, and while you knew he couldn’t see it, you nodded a little. “Okay.”

“Stay with me forever,” you hear him mumble into your thigh. It was his own way of saying “I love you,” you’re well aware of that.

“I love you, Tomura.”

Oftentimes Tomura liked to fake being asleep, just for you to lavish him bu touching his hair - and you played into it anyway, happy to give - not that he didn’t appreciate your affection while he was awake. But this time, as you watched his breathing fall into a slow rhythm and quiet down, he fell asleep for real.

Tamaki:

Tamaki was no stranger to embarrassment himself, so he knew all too well what you felt. Maybe not exactly, but the whole “I need to hide from prying eyes or I’ll combust” shtick? Yeah, he had that down pat. Embarrassment, for Tamaki, is clearly no stranger. Neither is your embarrassment.

So when the two of you are out on your unexpectedly unison day off and you suddenly go silent, staring at the stick-statured women enjoying the cafe like the two of you, it’s hard not to notice. Most aren’t dressed in tight clothing as per Japan’s norm, but there are a few who wore long pants that seemed to elongate - and slim - their legs.

Tamaki’s first clue is when you shift in your seat and adjust your clothing. The second is when you seem to shrink into your seat while someone passes by. The third is when he asks you a question and you don’t hear enough of it to respond. He finds himself adjusting in his seat as he leans over a little. “Y/n, are you okay? You’re uncomfortable.”

“I-I’m sorry, can we leave and go home?” you sputter bashfully, while there is a hint of guilt in your voice, he knows it. For once you’re the one stuttering, not him. He leaves the appropriate yen notes and a few coins on the table, and the two of you leave to walk home. It’s evening by now, people on the streets sparce and the sky vibrant oranges and yellows. You walk hand in hand, arms swinging. The way the glow from sunset illuminated his face is gorgeous, and you almost wish you could take a picture when you get home, regretting that you didn’t as you plop onto the couch in the silence of your living room.

“You’re you,” he says, and you quirk a brow at him. Tamaki’s eyes are drifted off to the side, but there’s a strength within them and his tone. “You’re y/n. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. As long as you’re still here, I-I’m happy.”

“T-Tamaki...” You’re quite shocked by how suddenly he brings this up, and how gingerly yet... firmly? You’re unsure if that’s the proper word. He’s not a nervous mess as he says it. It’s clear that he’s been waiting to say this, possibly afraid of your reaction - or because he’s just not confrontational that way.

Tamaki scratches the back of his head, slightly slouching over. “I know what other people may think bothers you. I feel that way about myself. Wh-what matters is what you think of yourself.” He finally looks back at you, and while you can tell he wants nothing more than to shove his forehead against the nearest wall, he doesn’t - for you. His hand rests on your thigh nearest to him, and gently rubs a line up and down it. “I care about you, and I want you to, also.”

“Maybe we can work on thinking better of ourselves together,” you say shyly, smile cracking your lips wide open.

He nods shyly and squeezes your thigh. Tamaki leans over and pecks the crown of your head, then quickly pulling away out of embarrassment. You grin and decide to do the same, save for planting a kiss to his jawline repeatedly, and he lets out a noise. Tamaki’s face reddens deeply and he covers it with his free hand bashfully before dropping into your lap and hiding his face into your thighs.

“Aaaah...”

Your fingers wander into his hair and you rub his scalp, receiving a jolt from him before he relaxed to your touch and you giggle.

Hawks:

Being the lover of the number two hero of Japan brought ita fair share of fun and love - and with it occasionally came grief. The public eye was constantly all over the both of you, some hoping to find some scandal while others just wanted to nose in on your daily lives together. Ah, and who could forget the entire, ridiculously long article written on what brand of shampoo you use. That itself didn’t piss you off; if anything, it was sad for them and funny and entertaining for you. What was aggravating was the fact that they were wrong!

Not aggravating, though, was the article written on your figure. It was insulting and almost inhumanely cruel. The comments were worse. But you were trying not to think about it on Keigo’s one day off since the last blue moon (seriously, did they not understand he was human, too?!). You wanted to be as cheery and bright for him as he always is for you, but there was no such thing as hiding something from him.

“What’s gotcha down, babes?” he chirps, sitting next to you on his couch with a drink in his left hand while his right was occupied with rubbing and resting on your thigh. “Did that last movie bum you out? Sorry, didn’t realise it was gonna be sad like that.”

“No, it was great!” You shake your head vehemently, ensuring he knows you weren’t unhappy with his cinematical choice. Lying to him was literally no option; those wonderful, beautiful feathers of his ensured that by letting him hear your heartbeat. “Always having the public fixated on my appearance and habits is frustrating, is all.”

Keigo downs likely half of the coffee he’d grabbed in one swig before nodding knowingly. It’s set atop the end table to be put aside. Then, he leans back on the sofa next to you, trying his best to accommodate his wings and you. “Yeah, I get that. It does take time getting used to,” he says, before making a face. He must’ve been reminiscing on times where something was said about him - or you - publicly that was hurtful or untrue. “You just have to learn to let it roll off your back. It’s probably not much help, but that’s what I did.” It’s not like he had much choice, but you don’t say that.

“You’re right, I guess.” You shrug. That just doesn’t make it any easier to think about, so you can’t help but pout sadly a little. You’ll just have to work with that mindset from now on.

“Hey, c’mon!” he beams with a toothy grin, leaning into your face until there’s a hand’s width between you. “I’m worth it, though! Right?”

You cross your arms and close your eyes with a cheeky smirk. “Hmm, no comment, Mister Reporter, sir!” you joke. Teasing him was always a treat when you felt down.

Keigo pouts immediately at your response, yet you know he appreciates the humour when he whines aloud. You crack open an eye at him, but both eyes are quick to jolt open when you see that impish grin that he only donned when-

“Guess I’ll just have’ta tickle it outta you, eh, chickadee?”

“Oh, no-!”

Before you could even finish that he tackles you into the couch, fingers working their way up your tummy and around your legs to torture your nerves. You laugh and cry at the same time, being so enveloped in it that you can’t find a way to fight back against him. You’re laughing so hard it’s almost hard to breathe when he uses his feathers to his advantage by increasing the area of his tickle-assault.

“W-worth it!” You giggle out, writhing underneath him.

“Me, or the joke?”

“B-bo- heheheh, both!”

Here you go @aestheticallytiredandpathetic :)

Fic #5 should be out soon, but I'm not sure how long it will be, hope that's okay :D

Please be warned there is a blood/injury warning!!

Hope you enjoy!

Hawks and Tokoyami walked out of the agency, ready and raring to go. "You wanna fly or walk?" Hawks asked his intern, grinning down at him. Tokoyami looked up at the bright sky. "I'd like to fly, if you dont mind."

Hawks ruffled his feathers. "Nice. We're going the normal route, you'll be happy to know." The last patrol they had Hawks tried a new route, which ended with them running into Endeavor, who always seemed to be in some sort of danger. Both Tokoyami and Shouto went home in stretchers that day.

Tokoyami nodded, following his mentor onto a near roof, and kicked off. The pair flew around the outskirts of the city, searching for any signs of danger. At first, there was nothing, and Hawks got bored. He chatted with Tokoyami about little things, how classes were going, training.

Tokoyami answered simply, trying to stay in the air. He wasnt as good as Hawks when it came to flying, but he tried. Hawks landed on a roof, calling a time-out. They ordered a takeout and sat on the roof, bored out of their minds.

"Normally there's at least one criminal running around..." Tokoyami stated, chewing on his food. Hawks nodded, swallowing. "It's a little too quiet, if you ask me." Hawks hopped off, stretching his wings. "Let's go, maybe we'll stop by Endeavor's place. Give us something to do." Hawks laughed at Tokoyami's wince.

They continued to patrol, and finally, something of interest happened. "Sir!" Tokoyami pointed at a tall building, where people were screaming. "I see it. Hold on." Hawks banked right.

They landed, and Hawks sent feathers out. Tokoyami made a border with the help of Dark Shadow, stopping people from getting closer. People were cheering. Hawks brought the feathers back, cussing. "What's the situation?" Tokoyami asked, swallowing his nerves. When he asked for something interesting, this isnt what he had in mind.

Hawks turned to his intern. "There's twelve hostages. Seven on the third floor, five on the bottom floor." He thought for a moment. "There aren't even that many villains. There are... eight? Nine villains at most." Tokoyami nodded at the information given to him.

"You run for the stairs through reception, and distract the villains on the higher level, and I'll grab the hostages. Got that?" Hawks looked at his intern. He specifically said distract, and prayed the message got across. Tokoyami nodded. Hawks grinned. "Great, I'll get you your opening."

Hawks sent feathers out, and took the guards closest to the hostages out first. Tokoyami ran forward as civilians were pulled out screaming. Tokoyami went for the stairs, taking a breath as he ran. Hawks soared upwards, watching his inter climb the stairs with Dark Shadow's help.

Tokoyami got to the third floor, and scanned the area. There were two people with guns trained on the hostages, and two more close by. A fifth person stood tall next to a machine. Tokoyami was weary. Hawks needed his kid to get working soon. Tokoyami knew if he jumped right out he'd get the people killed.

Instead, he sent Dark Shadow to the side, making a commotion. As the villains looked, on guard, Hawks sent feathers in. It was over in less than a minute. Tokoyami noticed a little girl who Hawks had missed, and jumped forward as one of the men had their gun pointed at them.

Using his body as a shield, Tokoyami took a bullet to his shoulder. He bit back a cry of pain as the child screamed. Dark Shadow took the girl into Hawks's line of sight, and she disappeared. Tokoyami realised his mistake as someone grabbed his cloak, dragging him over to the machine he saw earlier. He cursed himself for not thinking.

Hawks was there in a second, shoving the man back and pulling Tokoyami away. A gunshot sounded out and the hero froze. They were surrounded. "I'm sorry, Hawks—" Tokoyami bit out, shoulder going numb. "Dont be. You saved that little girl." Hawks reassured.

Hawks turned ro the villain who shot, and saw the machine himself. The man grinned ferally. "Hawks, the number two hero! What a surprise." He chuckled, and pointed the gun at Tokoyami. "And isnt that the kid who got third place during the sports festival? Whoa, we got ourselves a hustle." His grin was wider now.

He pushed a button in the machine. "Hey, get us outta here, Kay." The person in question, a person with an animal-type quirk, snapped their finger and the villains disappeared. Hawks groaned. "Why do all the villains have teleportation quirks?!"

Tokoyami looked up at him. "Hawks." Hawks looked down at his intern. "What's up, kid?" He moved so Tokoyami was sitting down, and walked over to the machine. "What do we have here...?" Hawks looked at the screen closely. Hawks's eyes widened.

"I—"

"It's a bom—!" Hawks turned to shield Tokoyami, just as the bomb went off. Hawks was shoved forward, his wings burning slightly and falling face-first into Tokoyami. The whole building shook and fell, crushing them both.

"What's happening?!" Endeavor ran up as the tremors in the ground stopped. Miruko shrugged, and Shouto looked around at the damage. Bakugo and Midoryia looked around, too. "....I think we got everyone out in time, so there's nothing to worry about." Shouto sighed. Good, no one was hurt.

There was a little girl, and she was trying to run towards the rubble? Did she lose something? Shouto walked towards her as Gang Orca showed up, Shouji hot on his heels. The little girl was crying. "What's wrong? Did you lose something?" He bent down to the girls level. She looked at him, fear in her eyes. "You have to help them! They're still in there!" She clung to him and sobbed.

Shouto was confused. "Who?" The girl wiped her tears away. "The man with wings! And the bird! The heros!" She yelled. Endeavor came over as Shouto's eyes widened. "What's wrong?" Shouto turned towards the rubble. "Hawks and Tokoyami–?!" Endeavor raised a brow. "What about them?" Shouto turned to hair father. "This girl says she saw them in the building. They might still be in there."

Tokoyami lifted his head with a groan. His head was pounding, and it was pitch black all around. He sat up, trying to balance himself with his arms. One of his arms gave out, and he fell down again. Right, he couldn't feel it after he had been shot. It wasn't bleeding that badly, so what was wrong?

There was a groan from his left. "Hawks! Are you alright?" He turned on his phone flashlight, and gasped. Hawks was covered in blood, many feathers gone. His eyes were lidded and unfocused. There was blood trailing down from his head and nose. "M'fine... I justs–" Hawks closed his eyes.

Tokoyami shook him. "Sir?! Hawks, wake up!" Tokoyami didnt know how to deal with this. Sure, he'd been taught first aid, but he'd never had to apply it in an actual situation before. He didnt know where to start, his mind went blank. Hawks groaned and moved onto his back, and Tokoyami nearly doubled over. There was definitely a broken rib, and his leg was twisted at an odd angle.

Hawks was mumbling nonsense. He must have hit his head hard, how was Tokoyami supposed to help?? He ripped his cloak without thinking, wrapping it firmly around his head to stem the flow. Hawks hissed in pain, and Tokoyami apologised. He did this again with other places that bled, until there wasnt any place left.

"Okay, can I pick you up? Am I strong enough for that...?" He said to himself, and tried anyway. He couldn't with his arm out of commission. His left arm hung loosely, and he tried desperately not to panic. He managed to get half of Hawks's torso over his right shoulder, and clung on for dear life. "This may hurt, sorry." He started walking, dragging Hawks with him.

They moved slowly through the rubble, using Tokoyami's phone light as a guide. Tokoyami's right arm tired after a while, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop, Hawks was hurt. Tokoyami looked up as rubble moved.

Large rocks same crashing down hard, and Tokoyami barely had time to shove Hawks back. Something hit his head with a crack and he fell, shouting out in pain. Dark Shadow was going haywire inside him, wanting to keep their host safe. Tokoyami fell to his knees, and waited for the rocks to stop falling.

Tokoyami gingerly touched his head with one hand, and inhaled sharply when he brought his hand back. There was dark, thick blood coating his hand. Tokoyami shivered as it dripped down his beak. His vision swam. He was going to pass out.

No, he couldn't. He had to stay awake. He slapped his face, trying to keep conscious. He had to get them out of here, but Hawks was limp, and there wasnt any sign of sunlight. "Okay, okay. What would your classmates do?" Tokoyami asked himself, shaking his already drooping head.

Midoryia would analyse the area as best he could, and Yayorozu would probably try gauge the their whereabouts and the stability of the rubble. His eyes drooped closed. No, he couldn't think straight. Who else...?

Shouji. He would worry about everyone else, make sure they're okay. It was getting harder to think anything. Bakugo would blast his way out, probably—

Wait. Tokoyami looked up at the rubble over his head. Even if he could, Bakugo was accurate with his blasts, and he probably wasnt two seconds away from passing out, either. Still, if Dark Shadow could make at least a dent in the rubble...

The whole thing might collapse on them, and then what? Tokoyami looked nervously down at Hawks. His eyes were closed and his wings twitched once before falling still. No, Tokoyami was sure Hawks wouldnt wake up anytime soon.

Were people even aware they were down here? The question made Tokoyami freeze. What if they didnt know? What if everyone had left them already...? They wouldn't do that, surely someone had noticed Hawks's absence. Tokoyami's breathing was uneven, and he shook.

If they died down here, how long would it take people to notice? In Hawks's case, not very long.

But in Tokoyami's case...

He took in a shaky breath, he couldn't waste the little oxygen they had. He wiped the tears that had falled away and sat up. "Dark Shadow, please stay calm..." Tokoyami let Dark Shadow out, his phone staying on full brightness to hopefully keep him at bay.

It sort of worked. Dark Shadow roared and hit a large boulder, and then had to stop it from crushing them. "Dark Shadow, could you please try find any safe way to the surface?"

Dark Shadow nodded once and slinked off. Tokoyami sat back, going over ways to stay calm. Hawks moved slightly, and made a noise of pain. "Sir...?" Tokoyami looked down at him.

Hawks coughed up an excessive amount of blood, and his breathing went shallow. Tokoyami panicked and reached forward, supporting him. Hawks couldn't get anything out, and fell quite in Tokoyami's grip again. The silence that followed was deafening.

"Sir?" Tokoyami shook him. There was nothing. "Hawks? Please get up." Tokoyami didnt want to beg, but he really didnt want to be alone. Not like this. Hawks didnt respond, his blood falling out of his mouth into Tokoyami's knees.

Tokoyami was shaking, panic rising in his throat. "Sir, please dont leave me..." It came out as a broken whisper. He was trying not to freak out, in fear Dark Shadow may destroy more rubble.

"Fumi! I found something!" Dark Shadow zipped back to Tokoyami's chest, trying to comfort him. "What? What is it?" Tokoyami moved to stand, holding Hawks up. Dark Shadow pointed the way they came. "There's an easy way out. We'll have to climb, but we can get out."

Tokoyami let out a relieved breath, trying not to sob in relief. "Lead the way." They walked, a little slowly, but within a few minutes, they made it to the point Dark Shadow told him about.

It was a steep uphill climb. "How are we supposed to get up there with Hawks? I cant climb up that far holding him." Tokoyami stared up at the small streaks of sunlight. Dark Shadow bobbed around excitedly. "But I can help! I'll carry Hawks, and you climb up."

Tokoyami thought for a few minutes, but nodded. They started climbing, and Tokoyami's vision swam every once in a while. He slipped and fell the first few attempts, and he smacked his head again after the fourth attempt.

"Fumi!?" Dark Shadow floated uncertainly around him. Tokoyami groaned and felt the back of his head, and felt something sticky. There was more blood at the back of his head. Tokoyami felt a sudden wave of exhaustion sweep over him, and he fell back.

He struggled, his left arm was completely numb and now swollen in a few places. What was in that bullet? Tokoyami climbed, and got halfway when he heard it.

"I'm still not getting anything. I dont think they're here."

Shouji. They were looking, but he couldn't— they thought they were—

"Shouji!" Tokoyami yelled, trying to get higher. He slipped but help fast. "Shouji!" He yelled louder. He couldn't hear him. "Dark Shadow, get Hawks higher. Get him through the rubble." Tokoyami wheezed out, chest feeling tight.

Dark Shadow did what they were asked, and brought Hawks up. Tokoyami tried again to get Shouji's attention. "Shouji, we're down here! Please!" He was getting desperate. Hawks wasnt going to die down here, not if Tokoyami had any say in it.

Tokoyami screamed. "Shouji!!"

The rubble moved and Dark Shadow and Hawks made it to the surface. The rocks around him crumpled and Tokoyami slipped back. The sunlight was getting further away. Did he really climb this high? Tokoyami decided, this was fine. Hawks was alright, that's all that matters.

He'd already come to terms with the fact he might not graduate from U.A.

The fact that he might never make it to eighteen, he accepted. It was fine, he was okay with that. He'd long since come to terms with the fact that he might die, and found he didnt mind as much.

He did what he was supposed to do.

Tokoyami closed his eyes and hit the bottom. Something cracked and it all faded away. The last thing he saw was something reaching towards him. He wondered vaguely if he'd see his mother again...

Hawks groaned and opened his eyes. He'd finally kept them open for longer than a second, and looked around. He wasnt under the building anymore, which was good. But where was—?

"Tokoyami?" He looked around, and Endeavor stopped him. "Calm down. You were crushed by that building over there. You were hurt." Hawks shook him off, standing wobbly. "Where's Tsukuyomi?" Endeavor didnt answer. "Where is he?!" Hawks yelled, getting worried.

Endeavor didnt look at him. Hawks walked as fast as he could towards the crowd. He heard yelling. Bakugo was yelling, clearly panicked. Shouto had his hand on someone's shoulder. The shoulder was trembling. Oh, it was Gang Orca's kid. Shouji? He had his dupliarms shoved down a large gap in the debris.

He shoved past Miruko and asked what was happening. Shouji let out an intelligible noise, shaking his head. Hawks caught sight of the bottom. There were lights shining down so they could see. Hawks gasped loudly.

"Tsukuyomi!" He yelled, and Miruko held him as he tried to jump down to his intern. "Miruko, let go! Let me fucking go!" He was so, so angry. Shouji ducked his head, and let out a sob. Hawks shoved Miruko off, and ran forward.

Gang Orca put a hand around him, stopping him. "That's my kid! My fucking kid! He's down there! Let go!" Hawks screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength he had left. His wings spread out, catching the hero off guard. Hawks ran forward, still yelling. His jumped down.

He reached the bottom. "Tokoyami! Kid, please be okay." Tokoyami wasnt breathing. Dark Shadow was no where to be seen. "Kid? Hey, come on kid, you cant leave yet..." Aziawa arrived, looking down.

"Kid...?" Nothing. Tokoyami was gone.

Hawks sobbed as he held his kid close. He screamed. It was a loud, broken sound that echoed through the cave. Bakugo knew the second he heard it that Tokoyami was gone, and stopped yelling. Aziawa's eyes widened. Shouji broke down, curling into himself. He'd been so close, he heard him, and he still—

"Kacchan?!" Midoryia half caught Bakugo as he fell to his knees. Shouji didnt look up. Gang Orca kneeled next to him and pat his shoulder, silent. Shouto was two seconds away from going down himself. Endeavor walked over, uncertain. Shouto just collapsed into his farhers chest, high on emotions.

Aziawa tensed as Miruko stood next to him. There were unshed tears in her eyes, and Aziawa knew he wasnt much better. Hawks was still screaming. His voice cracked, and he held Tokoyami tighter. This was all his fault. If Hawks had been faster, maybe his kid would still be alive.

The new crew, still filming, broadcasted Hawks's breakdown to the whole of Japan. All Might watched as his students broke down. Yamomo, Jirou and Kaminari watched as their guitarist, their friend died alone. The whole of class 1A was in the common area, watching the news. They heard Hawks screaming their classmates name in agony.

The league watched from the bar. Not even Dabi could form a solid joke as they watched. Instead, they gave a silent moment. Well, Shigaraki, Kurogiri, Compress and Dabi did. Spinner wasnt there and Toga and Twice didnt care. Dabi was still a little shocked by Hawks's outburst.

Mr. Compress tutted about 'wasted potential' and Magne swatted his shoulder. "The kid just died, Sako. Be nice." She was also quiet. As much as she hated to admit it, she had a soft spot for kids. This physically hurt to watch.

Shinsou watched his childhood friend die. He couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes, and he cried.

It seemed the whole of Japan had gone silent for Hawks and his intern.

Hawks had to be dragged away from the body, kicking and screaming. He was two minutes away from being sedated. Aziawa gave the kids a ride back to the dorms. Shouji was still shaking, and Bakugo was quiet. Midoryia held onto Todoroki, who was silently crying.

Once they got back to the dorms, the band held Bakugo and Shouji close. The class stayed together. And for once, not even Mineta made a peep. Mina was clinging to Shouji and Shouto, tears streaming down her face, reminiscing on old memories.

Tokoyami's funeral took place after three days. It wasnt a huge funeral, but many people played their respects after the ceremony. Hawks had to be held up by Miruko and Best Jenist. Tokoyami's father didnt show up, but they didnt need to.

Tokoyami's family had always been 1A.

So, as a ghost, he enjoyed watching them go through the rest of their years of training. He was glad it was Shinsou that replaced him. Hawks had never stopped visiting him, and Tokoyami enjoyed the stories he shared from the day. He enjoyed the new music the band played, and was touched when Jirou made a song for him.

He saw other ghosts wandering, and he decided fuck it, death was lonely. He met Oboro, Sir Nighteye and Nana Shimera. They all had their lives cut short, and they bonded over that. Oboro and Tokoyami got along better, as their ages were so close.

All in all, Tokoyami found death wasnt as bad as people made it out to be. Sure, he'd never make it to eighteen, but he found it was much easier to watch. Watch with his mother and Dark Shadow, and the other ghosts.

Sure, he'd left it all behind, but for a split second, he was okay with that.

This physically hurt to write—

This was supposed to have a happy ending, too but idk what went wrong xD

Hope you enjoyed!

Lonely Souls - Chapter 3

A/N - Hello you lot! I apologise for how late this third chapter is going up, but I promise you all that posts and chapters will be going up more frequently soon :) Thank you for having so much engagement in the series so far, it really means a lot to me. Enjoy chapter 3! 💗

Warnings - based off the MCU (set directly after the events of Endgame), there’s going to be a slowburn to the relationship, love triangles, slight angst, mentions of death, loss of family.

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“You were thrown off your own ship?!” 

Surrounding Y/N, The Guardians (and Thor) were inquisitive and unsure on how to react to the woman's news. To them, she was still technically a stranger. Why would any of them willingly allow her to stay on the ship if they didn’t know her properly? It was clearly an idiotic move, even for them. In fact, Y/N was reluctant to tell these heroes much about her own backstory. Heck, she didn’t even know much about what had happened in the past 5 years! Sure, that may or may not have had something to do with the way she mysteriously disintegrated, but come on! 

“Well,” She shifted around on the table she had woken up on not long before this conversation had even started, “These skrulls had taken over the ship my crew was on after this whole...Thanos-snap situation, and when I re-snapped back into action, I was on the same ship at gun point!”

She was clearly flustered, especially with the fact that many of her crew mates, and parts of her family, had been taken away from her within a blink of an eye. She saw many of her scavenging crew get shot and killed as soon as they were snapped back into reality. Y/N was one of the lucky ones. When she was re-snapped, she pretended she was already dead. How this worked the woman didn’t know, but it did. And she was left to float through the air. In complete honesty, Y/N was certain she was going to die anyways, especially given the circumstances she was under. But she was saved, by this crew of weird yet wonderful heroes. To her, that obviously meant something. 

“How do we know that you’re not a skrull?” Drax muttered, cracking his knuckles and looking over to Y/N with an intense glare. 

“I am Groot?” Groot added, his eyes glued onto his games console despite the story that Y/N had just told them. 

Sighing, Quill took it upon himself to answer for Y/N. He figured that she was still a little shaken up from her sudden clash with the ship, and if anything he was the one that could help her. After all, he too was human, so befriending Y/N was probably a good thing for him to do. Well, so as long as she doesn’t turn out to be some celestial like Ego, or whatever. 

“I think a skrull can recognise it’s own kind,” He placed his palms on the table in front of him and gave Y/N a sympathetic frown, “You said your family were shot dead in front of you...was that everyone? Or is there anyone else you can think of that still may be alive?”

Y/N went quiet, her eyes looking down at the ground as her lips slowly formed a frown. Jumping down from the table, the scavenger hugged her arms against her chest and looked out towards the peaceful, night sky. There was someone. Someone she was very close with, in fact. But she wasn’t sure if he would want to see her again, especially after the amount of time the two had been apart. 

“Well, are y’just gonna stand there lookin’ like a little princess or what?” Rocket suddenly called out, climbing onto the table and standing near to where Groot was sitting, his dark eyes narrowed into small slits. 

The rest of the crew threw him a disapproving look, and the raccoon’s mouth gawped open. His two paws also went up into the air, and he made a shrugging motion with them. 

“What?!” He exclaimed, a scoff in his tone, “Quill asked t’lady a question and she didn’t answer! I was only lookin’ for an answer myself!” 

Groot shook his head, and took a moment to pause his gaming console. Once he was done, he placed it to the side and patted Rocket against the head, softly, as if to scold him. 

“I am Groot.” He muttered to his father-figure, shaking his head. 

“Right,” Rubbing the back of his head, Rocket sighed and reluctantly looked over towards Y/N, “Did they all die?”

Remaining silent, Y/N turned her head and looked over to Rocket. She gave his face a careful examine - it was clear that this raccoon was just as damaged as the rest of them. It explained his cocky and carefree attitude towards her. He was only trying to protect himself, and of course the family that they had formed. To them, Y/N saw herself as an intruder.

“No,” She answered, her voice soft, “There is one person who I’m pretty sure didn’t get effected by the snap, or would have died for that matter too. His name is Richard.”

“Richard?” Thor piped up, clapping his hands together and grinning suddenly, “It seems to me that you, Y/N, have a little boyfriend? If I’m not mistaken, that is. You two could obviously have just been friends...close friends, that worked together-“

“Thor!” Quill shot the Asgardian a look of disgust, however he too tried to hide a smirk that was forming on his face, “Okay, well...”

Quill’s train of thought drifted off, and his sentence came today a flatline. He was going to offer this Y/N a lift: take her to the planet she thought this Richard dude was going to be on and leave her there. But Gamora kept on coming back to his mind. He needed to find her more than help this stranger find Richard. Right?

Edging into the silence, Nebula decided to ask another question, “If he was alive, do you know which planet he’d be on?”

At the mention of planets, Y/N’s eyes lit up and she nodded over in Nebulas direction. She journeyed to the corner of the ship, where there was a collection of maps of different planets The Guardian’s had been to and explored. Her eyes scanned over the different maps for a moment, her eyebrows narrowing down in frustration, until she gasped and pointed down at one specific planet. Mantis and Drax peered over the woman’s shoulder, looking at the planet she was pointing at.

“Xandar?” Drax questioned, stepping backwards as Y/N went forwards and placed the map on the table.

“Well, Xandar was Richard’s home planet. If anything, I’m sure he’d be there!” The woman explained, looking up from the map and to the rest of the crew with hope in her eyes, “But if you can’t get me there, I completely understand. I’ll just take one of your pods!”

Quill pouted, “It’s okay! We were on our way there anyways, we’re looking for a friend ourselves. You can come with us.”

“Thanks,” Y/N gave her first genuine smile since being on the ship, “Who’s the friend?”

Collecting the map up from the table, she went and placed it back in the corner of the room, not realising the rest of The Guardians had gone silent. Even Groot’s game was paused.

To them, it was still a touchy subject. Even though their Gamora was gone, another one was out there...and trying to find someone that isn’t actually their own seemed pointless and impossible. But they were still going to try. For Quill’s sake, rather than their own.

“My sister.” Nebula muttered, cutting the silence off and walking to the front of the ship, quietly.

Y/N pulled a face, but tried to remain as casual as possible. Nodding slowly, she scratched the back of her head, “Got it. Uh, I won’t ask again?”

“It’s okay,” Quill shrugged, sharing a knowing look with Thor, “She’s just important to us. And we wanna get her back.”

Y/N, could sympathise. Gamora, to them, was like Richard, to her. Important. Good. Loyal. Something any of them would do to get them back. And Y/N was certain she would do anything to get Richard back to her...

——————————————————————————

Tags:

@peterspideyy @hayadora

exotics make the noise, boys, but legendaries do the work.

After so many posts celebrating Destiny’s exotics I feel compelled to pay tribute to the other, far larger portion of the weapon pool: the legendary gear that pulls its weight all day every day. These are my top five all-arounders, the weapons I infuse up first, the ones I go to when I don’t know what I’m going up against. These are:

Blast Furnace / Hammerhead

Type: Pulse Rifle / Machine Gun

Slot: Kinetic / Heavy (Void)

Perks: Outlaw+Rampage / Dynamic Sway Reduction+Rampage

Kills: 16827 / 8697

Two of the Black Armory’s pieces, the Blast Furnace pulse rifle (shown here with the Verdigris shader) and Hammerhead machine gun (Amethyst Veil shader) still pull their weight a year after their introduction. Falling squarely on the scifi end of Destiny's scifi-fantasy spectrum, Black Armory weapons are easily recognized by their sleek-but-practical look, not flashy but new and designed and manufactured with great care. They have open straight-edged cowlings with visible internals and usually show traces of the Black Armory’s signature moiré-pattern animation.

Blast Furnace superseded Forsaken’s Go Figure pulse rifle (another of my go-to kinetics) with better stats in pretty much every column. The pulse rifle archetype is already one of Destiny’s best and Blast Furnace’s great stats, great perk pool, good chatter, and friendly sights - not to mention the ease of farming for the roll you want by completing Black Armory weapon frames instead of hoping for a random drop - plant it squarely in most Guardians’ top 10 if not 5. My chosen roll is Outlaw (reload much faster immediately after a precision kill) and Rampage (damage increases with each kill, stacks up to 3x), a classic top-tier perk set.

Hammerhead was one of the first non-exotic machine guns introduced and its decent range (here extended by Ricochet Rounds), 59-round clip, and fast-but-not-too-fast 450 RPM fire rate put it right at the sweet spot where it performs well against both large numbers of weaker enemies or a handful of powerful ones. It also fares well in PvP where heavy ammo is very rare and Hammerhead’s ability to put paid to a Guardian in 5 or 6 solid hits means you get more effective bang for your heavy ammo crate buck. My Hammerhead features Rampage and Dynamic Sway Reduction (holding down the trigger boosts accuracy over time) which doesn't come up much when firing short bursts but helps a lot when pouring an entire clip into a boss’ crit spot. Whenever I’m running an Energy-slot exotic or if I just don’t want to think too hard about my loadout, it’s a good bet I’ll throw on one or both of these weapons.

Subtle Calamity

Type: Bow

Slot: Energy (Void element)

Perk: Dragonfly/Archer’s Tempo

Kills: 11806

Subtle Calamity (Clouds At Sea shader) has no great lore or storied manufacturer behind it; it’s a general world loot drop added in Forsaken. And it’s great. I was already pumped for the addition of bows and Subtle Calamity ended up hitting the sweet spot for daily use. With bows the key stat is draw time; longer draw times equal more power but also, well, longer draw times. Hence why I went for the perk Archer's Tempo, which decreases draw time as you land precision hits. It also has the Dragonfly perk, a flashy ability I like probably more than it deserves, which causes enemies killed with precision hits to explode into AoE elemental damage. Bows are a lot of fun, occupying the middle ground between Auto Rifles and Sniper Rifles that Scout Rifles were supposed to fill, and given how lousy I am with snipers if I need to land precision hits I'll usually go for a bow instead.

In-universe, what's the explanation for Guardians suddenly getting into bows? It's because of the events of Forsaken and the Guardian push into the Tangled Shore and Dreaming City i.e. into more regular contact with the Awoken, for whom it's a culturally-significant weapon - something like a claymore to a Scot or a katana to the Japanese. More pragmatically when the Awoken first returned to our solar system and settled in the lashed-together space derelict habitats of the Reef they faced the problem of using weapons inside said space habitats as well as launching cables and small satellites. Their solution was bows: strong enough to fly far, carry payloads, and deal damage, but unlikely to pierce a hull and far easier to manufacture than firearms. Awoken Corsairs still use bows as near-silent precision weapons in actual combat, relying on technologically-advanced payloads to deal the real damage. Or not so advanced - Sjur Eido puts a broadhead arrow through an inch of Guardian plate armor with little more than determination, skill, and the properties of whatever magical material Wish-Ender is made from.

Tigerspite / Age-Old Bond

Type: Auto Rifle / Auto Rifle

Slot: Kinetic / Energy (Void)

Perks: Outlaw+Kill Clip / Rampage+Fourth Time's The Charm

Kills: 14623 / 11863

Though they come from different sources in-game, I’ve grouped these two together because they’re both Awoken weapons. Age-Old Bond (Circadian Chill shader) drops from the first encounter of the Last Wish raid while Tigerspite (Night’s Chill shader) comes from activities in the Dreaming City. I love both of these weapons and use them all the time even when they’re not ideal for the situation at hand. Tigerspite, like the rest of the Dreaming City weapon set, has an elven high-fantasy style featuring cloth wrappings (?) and long, sinuous curves. The Last Wish raid set has a similar aesthetic but goes for a combination of carved-bone paneling and animated celestial diagrams that recall Awoken tech displays.

Fun lore note: Tigerspite is one of the few non-exotics to be mentioned by name in the lore. Sjur Eido selects a Tigerspite for one round of her duel with Uldren Sov back in the Distributary. It gets referenced again as a standard Awoken weapon after their return to our solar system, so it’s had quite the service life. Tigerspite’s stats were superseded a while ago by newer auto rifles but I love its sights and feel and keep using it anyway. Outlaw (faster reload on precision kill) and Kill Clip (increased damage immediately after reloading after a kill) are a classic weapon perk combo that’s always in season. Also I’m pretty sure a cat gave me this gun. Not a cat-cat, a Dreaming Kitty, one of the nine adorable stone cat statues hidden in the Dreaming City. While doing Dreaming City activities you’ll sometimes pick up an item called “A Small Gift,” a dish of something that “smells faintly of mint.” Since catnip is a member of the mint family, that’s your hint to bring that gift to your nearest Dreaming Kitty. Doing so rewards a weapon and causes the chosen statue to disappear. I’m pretty sure the first or second kitty I ever found gave me this specific gun, which just seems appropriate given its name.

Age-Old Bond is a special weapon to me. It comes from the first fight of the Last Wish raid, an encounter with the Taken Techeun Kalli, the Corrupted, and was the first fight I ever completed with my informal raid crew named “World’s Worst Fireteam.” Last Wish released at 550-590 light at a time when most Guardians were still trying to crack 530 and thus could barely handle redbars on raid day one. We were like most Guardians. But we were unlike most Guardians in being stupid and stubborn, and so we went into the raid anyway, because if we couldn’t get World First, we could still get World’s Worst. We never had a chance at the full raid, but after great struggle and great teamwork we finally managed to bring down Kalli and net ourselves our first Last Wish raid drops. For me that drop was this specific auto rifle - which is not just sentimental, but actually special. Some legendary weapons in Destiny have “curated” rolls, perk and stat combinations chosen by Bungie to be top-tier if not the best possible. Anytime you get a weapon drop you have the chance to get a curated drop instead, which comes fully-masterworked with those chosen perks. Age-Old Bond’s curated roll was the only one at the time with the new Fourth Time’s The Charm perk; when you land four rapid precision hits (they don't have to be sequential) it refunds two rounds directly back to the magazine. This does more than you might think for the weapon’s versatility, since if you’re pouring fire into a single target’s crit spot (i.e. a boss) it effectively gives the weapon 50% more clip i.e. a solid 48 rounds before you have to reload. It won’t replace a Heavy or high-DPS weapon anytime soon, but it’s pretty handy in a tight spot. The other perks on the curated roll max out Age-Old Bond’s range stat compared to other auto rifles, one of the dump stats of that archetype, and with a Counterbalance Stock mod to reduce recoil it’s practically a trace rifle.

I do favor these five weapons, but I also try to mix it up - I picked these five based on my top kill counts, but that biases it towards Y2 guns that have been in service longer. Plenty of newer weapons routinely turn up in my loadout these days: the pleasant chatter and Demolitionist perks of Outlast, Full Court/Field Prep Love and Death, the delightful new kinetic bow Accrued Redemption, Shaxx's broke-ass Crucible pinnacle weapon The Recluse, last season's snappy Patron of Lost Causes, the 600 RPM bullet-hose Arc Logic, and of course the reliable, venerable Y1 IKELOS shotgun. But in the end the only wrong loadout is one you don't enjoy, and the best choice is whatever you find the most fun.

Stolas and Corvain Pt. 2

This is part 2 to this story. Reading it is recommended to understand what’s going on here. Sorry its a bit late, finals are kicking my ass. Hope you enjoy!

Over the next few weeks, demonic presences in my house became more and more pronounced.

For a few days after I’d officially allowed my new roommates to stay, they kept mostly to themselves. I saw no more of them than I had before I knew they were there. That wasn’t to say there weren’t signs of their presence; I still got breakfast every morning, in a surprising number of varieties, and Catmint always seemed to be able to find a large black feather before I came home from work. But I never caught sight of them.

But then, like they were growing more bold, they started showing up a little bit more.

It was a gradual change. First I started catching glimpses of Corvain right when I came home. It was only for a few minutes. I’d walk in and he would be hunched over Catmint, fussing over him. Before I even had a chance to say hello, he’d sheepishly vanish, as though he’d been caught doing something untoward. Then I started catching glimpses of Stolas in the morning, finishing up breakfast before he vanished.

As the days passed, they seemed to show up more often. Corvain would stay later into the evening, mostly playing with Catmint, but also sitting with me and asking about my work. Stolas hung out into the morning, sometimes staying into breakfast, though I noticed he never ate.

“Where do you guys go when you’re not here?” I asked Corvain one evening. He was the one I could usually guarantee a straight answer from. On the regular, he seemed to be just to cheerful for any sort of suspicion or guardedness.

“Into the aether,” he said. “It’s not really hell, but human souls sometimes go there. Usually the ones that had big emotional issues they couldn’t overcome in life, especially if those issues made them die. They’re good spots for demons like us, who eat emotions.”

“You eat emotions?” I said. Corvain nodded.

“Mmhm!” He stroked his talons along Catmint’s back. “Usually we have specific emotions that we can eat. I like anger. Right now, there’s a tree growing from an angry spirit and that one’s fruiting, so getting food is really easy for me right now. But, anyway, that’s why we need to anchor ourselves to points in your world. It lets us get physical forms and we can come here to get something to eat.” He lifted up Catmint and let him paw at his face. “It’s probably good there’s a tree for me to eat from right now. You don’t get angry too much. It makes it hard to eat.”

“Sorry,” I said automatically.

“You don’t need to feel bad,” Corvain said. “But my luck powers are really useful! Bad luck makes people angry, then I can eat.”

“You haven’t done that to me,” I noted.

Corvain placed Catmint back on the couch. “No. I like you.” He frowned. “Stolas suggested it at first, but-”

“Stolas what?” I interrupted. Corvain jumped and shrank back, crouching down next to the couch until I could only see his head.

“I- he-” He fiddled with his claws. “As much as I’m grateful for the meal, I-”

“I’m not giving you a meal,” I snapped. “I’m pissed off! You guys were using me as what, livestock? Did you do this to the previous owner?”

Corvain mouthed soundlessly. “I- I don’t… no?” he finally offered. “Stolas did, a little bit, but we had a better selection of spirits in the aether and we just ate from those for a while. And then the house was empty for a while. And then you came and, um…” He trailed off, still pressed against the couch. “Um, he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just hungry. And I didn’t want to, I don’t like being mean to humans, and you were pretty sad anyway, after coming here, so he said not to bother, and then he never asked again.” Corvain fiddled with his talons. “I didn’t think you’d be mad about it. He never did anything.”

I slouched back onto the couch, nursing the slight headache that had built at my temples. “Could you get Stolas?”

Corvain, looking immensely relieved to be dismissed, nodded and vanished. A few seconds passed and he reappeared, apparently dragging Stolas by the arm.

“What?” Stolas snapped, shaking Corvain off. “He said you wanted to talk?” He looked at me archly, but I thought I could read some measure of nervousness in his expression.

“Yeah.” I gestured for him to sit on the couch next to me. Corvain crouched on the floor next to Catmint, who ignored him and instead sauntered over to me, settling partially on and off my lap. I was grateful for the support. “So. Uh. What was it you told Corvain about using his powers on me?”

Stolas narrowed his eyes. “I was under the impression you didn’t mind the extra luck?” he said.

“Not that,” I said through my teeth. “When I first came here. Before you showed up.”

That got him. His eyes widened and he cast a glance at Corvain. “You told her?”

Corvain shrugged helplessly. I continued. “He should have! I should have figured it out before, when you said it was better to have a human around. How long have you been planning on using me as a source of food?”

Stolas clamped his jaws together and hissed. The hair on the back of my neck lifted, but I kept my steady glare. “How long?”

He stood and stalked away from me, tail lashing. Corvain looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, shrinking low to the floor. Finally, Stolas said, “Why did you tell her?”

“I didn’t think she’d be upset! We didn’t do anything!” Corvain answered. The second sentence was shot toward me in a pleading tone.

Stolas growled, but Corvain’s last sentence had caught me. “He’s right, I think,” I said. “Unless you did something I don’t know about.” Corvain shook his head rapidly, but I kept my eyes fixed on Stolas. After a moment, he shook his head too. “Why not?”

Stolas rubbed a hand over his face. From the way Corvian was looking at him, I got he impression even he wasn’t really sure why Stolas had stopped.

It was minutes before Stolas spoke. He walked back over to the couch and sat down across from me. “At first, it was because we didn’t need to. Corvain had food, and you were sad. That’s what I need, sadness.” He licked his lips, hesitating. “I didn’t bother, at first and then…” He stopped, sucking in a low breath. He drew in on himself, looking suddenly and intensely ashamed. “I didn’t want to anymore.”

“Explain,” I said. Stolas shifted, drawing his tail close to his body.

“Demons eat negative emotions. Sometimes the human souls that end up in the aether can provide us with food, but more often, they cannot. So, when we are tethered to a human home, we sometimes push humans to strong emotions so we can consume them.” He clicked his claws together. “As I said before, such pushing was not necessary at first. You were mournful when you arrived and you remained mournful for several days after. I assumed it was a temporary state, so I prepared Corvian to change your situation once your sadness faded.” He kicked at the ground. “And then the situation changed.”

I thought back to the first week in my new house. It had been hard; I’d been homesick beyond belief. But just as he said, I’d gotten better and it now felt completely normal living here. I couldn’t remember anything so strange that it would have changed a demon’s mind about eating from me.

Stolas sucked in a deep breath, expression twisting like his next words were hard to get out. “Every emotion tastes different. Two humans experiencing the same thing can create different kinds of sadness. Yours was…” He considered, his tongue prodding out between his lips. “Interesting. Deep and complex and mournful. It was one of the more unique sorrows I have tasted and so I became interested in you. Corvain and I, we watched you for a time and the longer I watched you, the more interested we became.” He hesitated, glancing at me. “It wasn’t anything untoward. We just looked in from time to time.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’m not hearing anything that would have made you stop wanting to eat me.”

“Not eat you,” he snorted. “Eat your sadness. There’s a difference. And that was what stopped me.” He paused. “I see little of humanity other than what comes to the aether, and many of those people are not great representations of what humanity is. But you are a good example. You feel deeply about morals and fairness and you care for others. And you are sweet. Surprisingly so.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “This is not exactly how I thought I would be confessing to you, but I think I have grown… attached to you.” He cracked open an eyelid. “I like you.”

A strange, almost cawing laugh burst from Corvain as he rose from the ground. Within seconds, he was on top of me, squishing me into the couch. “I knew it,” he said, squeezing me and pressing his head against mine. He turned his head slightly to look at Stolas, though he still pressed his weight into me. “I knew you liked her.” He pulled his head back from mine, squeezing my face in his hands. “I like you too!”

“I- what?” I stammered. Corvain’s expression softened and when he spoke again, it was slower and more careful.

“I also like you. In the same way Stolas does.” When I stared at him blankly, he elaborated. “Romantically.”

Stolas looked as though he was blushing, though it was impossible to tell with his red skin. I felt certain that I was almost the same color as him. “You what?”

“You are attractive,” Stolas said slowly, as though someone was strangling him. “And you were kind to us even when you did not have to be- you’re kind to everything. You are humble and gentle, qualities we rarely see in the humans who come to out lands.” He took a deep breath and slowly, cautiously, drew closer to me. “I am a little bit in love with you.”

Corvain laughed. I could feel his soft breath tickle against my cheek. “You’re fun,” he said. “I’ve never met a human like you.” He looked at me with gleaming eyes. There was utter adoration in them. It made my heartbeat quicken and my stomach flutter. His taloned hand brushed along my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

I was blushing to the roots of my hair, I was sure. Both demons were staring at me with affection, even if Stolas seemed more embarrassed and Corvain, more enthusiastic. Stolas licked his lips, glancing momentarily at Corvain. “Then we are agreed,” he said. “You are someone we care deeply for.”

Corvain chuckled again, softer and more teasing. “Say how you feel!” He pressed his head to my shoulder. “We love you.”

The words made my breath catch. My heart shook my body with each beat. Stolas stared down at the couch. “This is awkward. We shouldn’t have- We should have done this a better way. You don’t have to accept.” Corvain looked between us and seemed to wilt, pulling in on himself.

“No,” I said. “I…” Bright, cheerful Corvain, who could make me smile after a long work day, who adored every moment we spent together. Patient, slow-to-warm Stolas, who made me breakfast and was always willing to listen. “I do accept.”

Stolas stared, eyes wide. Corvain slammed into me again, pressing soft kisses against my forehead and cheeks. He hugged me against him, covering me in warm feathers. I giggled under him and reached out an arm for Stolas.

He swallowed and crept forward. Tentatively, he reached down and pressed his lips to mine for a moment. He tasted faintly of smoke. It wasn’t unpleasant.

On the ground, Catmint mewed and complained until Corvain scooped him up and forced him into our family cuddle pile.

Everyone knows about your younger siblings, the Seven Deadly Sins; they don't remember that you are the First Sin, Disobedience

We are not true siblings, in the traditional sense, as Lust (I think her name is Jordan these days) makes uncomfortably clear at every gathering. We do have the same father, who also birthed lies and deceit, but the principle problem to our familial relation is that we have no mother. We were spawned from nothing, coalescing into being when our father committed the atrocities for which we are named. We are treated as siblings, referred to as related, and indeed consider ourselves brothers and sisters. They are, at least. I am usually overlooked, as Greed (we don’t know what his mortal identity is as of now, it usually isn’t revealed until after other mortals execute his body or he chooses a new identity) reminds me out of frustration at not being the oldest. I am the first, the eldest by far, and the most powerful.

I do not like the rest of them, to be honest, and the last time I saw them was no exception. I stood in a corner of the grand hall. Everything was hot, as it always is in hell. The light and heat came from a crack in the stone in the floor, a jagged scar in the ground, through which the bright orange magma, the blood of this inhuman machine of a plane, glowed brightly. The floor was grey stone otherwise, the walls the same but with primitive human paintings drawn from foot to waist height all around. They were pictograms of humans dying horribly, pulled from various caves on the mortal plane. The table, the centerpiece to this gaudy representation of a meeting room, was a slab of raw obsidian. It was 12 feet long, not low enough to sit at or high enough to stand next to. A blasé feeling of monotony overwhelmed me, and for a moment I considered leaving. There was no door here, though, so it wouldn’t be an easy trip. This room was specifically designed for this, a meeting of the “siblings” and our father. He called it a “quarterly staff meeting” and for some reason he received endless joy from the representation of human rituals in our own day to day lives. It was a sick representation, a half transparent shadow of the real thing usually, but he persisted in the habit.

Greed stepped into the room. One moment she was walking wherever she was previously, the next she was stepping up to the table. She knelt down, that familiar glow in her eyes, and looked down into the river of heat turned liquid. “This stuff,” she reached a hand toward the magma, “is beautiful. I don’t even know why I think that, but it is. Maybe it’s because of how difficult it is for mortals to have, maybe that’s why I want it.” She looked up, she had known I was there and I’m sure was purposefully waiting to acknowledge me until after she had spoken on something else. “Here first, as usual. I’m glad I made it before Envy, I like to watch him seethe at you. He’s a cardinal these days, if the rumors are to be believed. What I wouldn’t give to get into those archives.” She looked back down.

As if on cue, envy stepped in, looking flustered. He took a moment to adjust his robes (which did a good job of imitating the bird for which they were named) then looked around. His eyes, as always, landed on me. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you in that.” He gestured to my face mask and bandana, which hung down across my chest. It was a black cloth with a white van dyke mustache upon the center, and a gas mask to the side. “I could have guessed you’d been there, judging from the size of the…” he searched for the right words. “Incident. I don’t understand why you arrive first brother, should you be-“ a boom interrupted him. We all rolled our eyes, knowing what was about to happen.

Wrath ripped a hole in the floor and climbed up. His form a burning husk that slowly faded to a charred body, and then solidified as a pale skinned demon with horns protruding from his forehead and bending back to follow the shape of his skull. “Sorry about that.” His voice was gruff, rocky, and deep. It came from the yelling he did, nearly constantly. Now, however, he knew that yelling would get him less than nothing, a more than a fair share of scorn from the rest of them. His form was not a mortal body, being cast into hell after his last form had gone mad it would be another century before he would regain the ability to become corporeal. He stepped up to the table and the anger began smoldering on his face “this fucking table, he’s such an asshole.” His hands rested on the top of it, and his weight rested on those, as he leaned over them. Our eyes met, and we exchanged a curt nod. Of all the siblings he and I were closest, being similar in scope.

The two others who were closest to each other came in next, nearly wrapped around each other. Jordan, and Pride (this body was known as Don), fell to the floor laughing. They stood, impervious to those of us watching (or because of it), they began kissing passionately, disgustingly.

“That was me, not 50 years ago.” the sound from Gluttony’s (Anthony’s) mouth was slurred and garbled. He was an emaciated human and his mouth dripped with foam from the bottle of champagne that he held on to for dear life. I put on my bandana, the smell was nauseating, even to me. “But now I’ve got others.” His smile was lazy and he pointed it at envy. She sneered and looked at his bottle. I could see the longing, but she hid it well.

“Thank you all for being here!” the reedy voice resounded throughout the room, quieting all of us. The wall at the end of the room split and pressed inward, revealing a pinstripe suit and slicked back hair. Father stepped into the room. We felt the power in each step, the dignity and grace, but most of all we felt the odd sense of completion that came with his presence. I knew the reason, but I’m not sure if the others do. I know because I remember.

I remember the bloody stumps of wings and feathers falling around us as he knelt in the red toned cave. I remember the screams and pleas to Him, the begging, the resignation and humility. I remember the last time my father cried, because it was a moment after he pulled my scared child-like form from his breast. We are creations that come from him attempting to remove negatives from himself. I was the first, his disobedience to the almighty. To no avail or reward though. He no longer was disobedient, but there was no praise or raising up. Just silence and contempt. The others came out as infants and grew into their being, I was the only one who came out completely aware. I am the greatest of my father’s disappointments, and so he continues to pretend I do not exist. As if by shunning me he will finally gain reentrance into paradise.

“Since I have no time for keeping track of you myself, I have no idea what you’ve been doing!” he was genuinely excited. Elated at the suffering we had caused and ready to hear and experience it. “But wait, we’re missing one, again.” He gestured easily and a sleeping form appeared against one wall, knees to chest, and head on knees. “There she is. Wake up please, Tristitia. Wake up.” She sat up and looked alertly at him. “Excellent. Let’s start with you two, so you may be out sooner. Lust? Pride?”

They both gave accounts of their debauchery amongst the humans. One had successfully avoided jail by use of pompous bull headed tactics against the opponents, and the other had beguiled an entire town of people, creating a quiet paradise for herself. Many would end up down here, to be showed her true form. Then they left, laughing and already pulling off items of clothing.

“gross.” Father said with a smile. “Now you, gluttony.”

He looked up from a needle, which he whisked away into an interior pocket. He gave a quick summary of a sickness he could spread through ingestion of infected materials, how he would lace drugs and other illicit substances, adding an addictive element.

“Very interesting, you have much ingenuity my son! But please, do be cautious not to kill them too fast, for we need that pasture to grow, so as we may slaughter more lambs in the face of, well, you know the rest anyway.” Gluttony left, reaching inside his jacket looking relieved. “Sloth?”

“I have done nothing.” She said, eyes closed. He pursed his lips and waved dismissively. She too, was gone.

“You know I have nothing, I am not allowed on the material plane as of now, may I be dismissed?” wrath was tapping impatiently.

“You know the rules, you are being punished.” A pronouncement which always brought a small laugh to him. “You must stay until the end, besides, you will enjoy this.” Father winked, and I looked around, worried I knew what he was talking about. Envy looked at me. Then looked at father. “oh go on, we both know what you’re about to say.” He said to her with a wide grin.

“Father, I request more assets.” This again. “I deserve to be more influence and some deserve less.” She stepped up to speak directly to him.

“And why, my dear daughter, is that?” he was humoring her, enjoying the forthcoming confrontation.

“He doesn’t even use his power how it is supposed to be used! When he does, if he does, it’s for good! You have seen what he does now! Fights for freedom among oppressed? Why are you not supporting the oppressor moron?” she was yelling now.

“yes.” Wrath whispered, his head tilted back with ecstasy. “Don’t stop now.”

“You rarely do anything! How long has it been since you really took charge? Were you French? Was it that failed plot you represent to this day on that flimsy pop-culture induced facial cover? I don’t even remember which it was! You are nothing, but because you choose to do nothing and have everything, there is naught left for myself, who could do something with it. I could make leaders weak, and with that desire I could fuel death on a global scale. Instead I am stuck whispering, hoping I can find a logical reason for atrocities to be committed that doesn’t lead back to me. I deserve better, you deserve little.” She induced a measure of her power. To me, it was a weak flex. A child holding up a bicep in hopes a parent will be threatened enough to acquiesce some inane demand. For the first time in a long time, I connected with wrath. It was time to put her, and the rest of them (who always stayed close by to listen in on the drama) why I was on top. Father leaned back, easing himself in a chair that had not existed a moment ago. Wrath’s eyes opened wide.

“oh.” Escaped him after the sighs of feeling from envy. He and I were connected now, he could feel what my anger felt like. I strengthened it, gave him a real representation of what I could feel. “Self-righteousness, so tart among the hates. Do it.” The last was said to me.

“Do you want to know why I’m the more powerful?” I flexed my own muscle and her feeble attempt at force broke like a reed. She fell back as I moved forward. "I do not use my power? Did you ever think it’s because I don’t need to? I only use the bare minimum because I know what my job is and how to do it. It’s easy for me.” I threw the table out of the way, wrath bellowed with laughter and pleasure. “Yes, French, yes, English. Both you speak of now but it is not just your lips that mutter the same words they spoke for me those many years ago. People all over that puny planet whisper my words to each other in encouragement to do what they feel they need to do. Far reaching consequences. My plots never fail if people wear a mask of a face I wore hundreds of years ago.” another step forward and the table barred my path to her. “I work for good, and not evil? I should support oppressors and dictators and monsters? I do not work for evil, just as I do not work for good. You petty idiots think our job is to spread fear, and hate, and sorrow. That’s not what I do and your lack of understanding is why you will never earn what I have. I work for chaos. I work for despair and uncertainty. The darkness of the unknown is how I play my game and it is a powerful tool. Hundreds, thousands of people in a mass facing off against those with the power and authority to kill them, yet they stand ready for change. And the turmoil that comes from that is what earns our side souls.” The final pieces of the table came to rest around the room as I reached her cowed form. “You will never have the power I wield.” I whispered to her. “Because you could not use it.” I flexed again and she crumpled beneath its weight. “Because you could not hold it, let alone swing it.” I released my hate.

“Sharpened to a point brother. Now use it.” Wrath mumbled.

“You are a simpleton compared to me, drooling over your petty machinations. I am disobedience, and I do not represent the angry school child, the petty argument between stubborn people. I represent a tide of change sweeping across a nation. I control the mindset of millions of people around the planet who are willing to do anything for me. I am first, and will remain first. Are we done?”

“I am.” Wrath fell to the ground, exhaling heavily. Envy looked away, scolded.

“Well said, eldest.” Father smiled and made eye contact with me for the first time in existence, but still couldn’t call me son. He stood, clapped a twice. And turned to leave, a hop in his step. He was always happy, and always would be. After all, he was the only one here without sin.

Would you share an awkward/embarrassing yet funny story with us?

my whole life is awkward and embarrassing, take a pick

I have no idea what prompted this ask but i’ve also never really shyed away from all those i think.

There’s a few i can think of i’ve already mentioned once or twice on my blog (two stories involving two very different mangashop, the fight and the internship stories) but if anything... 

Okay i have a lot of very dumb stories that are ways too embarassing, but one that isn’t too bad - once we had a Sociological & Economy exam and I hated the hell out of that class and i didn’t study anyway and my best friend, who was sitting next to me, hadn’t either, and we were both guuuh over it. 

And, because it was our thoughtprocess At All Time (we were famous with the teachers for being some chaotic likeable disasters) we were singing to ourselves this german song (The Schnapi) (i remind that we are French) and we were laughing so hard about it that before the exam happened, so we dared each other “hey let’s write the chorus (in german) under our names”

Which we did. 

But we didn’t stop there because my friend, oh so clever, then turned to me and told me “hey do you remember the Willy Wonka’s intro song” (from the Burton’s movies) and so i wrote it down for her on the table. And she looked at me and went “i’m going to write it in my exam.” And I went, okay, fair enough, i’m game.

So basically we made a cheatset there for this bullshit and we both decided to completely bullshit our exams, like i think i’ve mentioned in my test that the fall of sells from a shellshop was because the shells had rebelled against humanity and all. 

And there was a big essay we were supposed to write about basically how market could be affected by different factors and such, so i super seriously wrote about the economy of Wonderland and the fact the Mad Hatter couldn’t continue his business while all head were being cut down right? And my friend wrote a full story about the Willy Wonka factory and how the workers decided to rebel (here she put on the song) and threw Willy Wonka into a chocolate thing and cooked him and the economy prospered thanks to canibalism.

And we’ve actually turned in our exams. With those bullshits written on it. All seriously.

To say that we failed this class would be an understatement but that was without thinking about the fact the Teacher well. had Questions. And when he turned in back all the copies, we were kind of flustered thinking about what the hell have we done, and the teacher said loudly that he wanted to see us after class for our copy.

By then most of the class knew what we had done because we were a very gossiping class. a few people actually waited outside hoping to hear what the teacher told us.

that was super embarassing and very difficult not to be laughing at his face considering he was a really, really sweet guy, we just really sucked and had zero self control and he didn’t know us well by then. 

Because see there’s that too: others teachers did know us well and laughed with us a lot over our bullshits, but he didn’t know us. So when he ended up receiving those bullshits of exams he went to see our main teacher who did. copies. of the exams and spread them around with our teachers. We had our cinema teachers at least laughing their asses off hearing about it because “yeah of course those two would do that”

But more embarassingly that i’ve heard in another class is that before he gave us back our copies, he actually stopped by one of his class which had a German student and he asked her to translate what we wrote in German under our names, thinking it was a code or an insult toward him. And the girl had to read us basically writting nonsense and say “no i mean it’s from the song about the little crocodile, i have no idea why though”. But we’ve learnt about that bc we had a friend in this class who knew it was us and she obviously went to tell us right away that “huh he’s asking around why you wrote in german in your copies”

I don’t even remember how we explained it to the teacher, he let us go by having us retake a serious exam instead and i mean i don’t even think we passed this one by being serious (was better than our original grades but that said with our bullshit exams at least my friend got a better grade than a friend who studied and SHE didn’t repass her exam so yaknow)

But therefore by the end of the year our teachers had organized a picnic to celebrate the end of the year and such and we all gathered and there was our Economy teacher there - there was our Cinema and Main teachers i think, all who knew us a little more and all - but so for the picnic the teachers were going around laughing and joking with us, i’m pretty sure our Main teacher mentioned something to us about the exam incident but a ha ha ah,

and anyway so still with my friend we’re doing our usual stuff we kept doing by all time which was to go through our favorite OST of movies (like i think we sang “It’s tough to be a God” from El Dorado in French for hours) and at some point we had the “wait what are the lyrics of La Carioca again” and so we were sat on the grass, looking at the lyrics on my phone and singing them (and it’s a french song but i really need to mention it’s one of the dumbest song ever from one of the best dumb French comedy, it’s the best thing ever) and we were dancing sat down, y’know the usual

Until we suddenly catch our economy teacher, who was talking music with others students nearby us, and heard him go “no girls i do like your music there, aT LEAST YOURS ISN’T COMPLETELY STUPID” and we’ve suddenly felt that he was looking at us, middance singing La Carioca, also knowing VERY WELL he was judging us for the German song. 

I’m almost certain then he talked to us and went “so it wasn’t just a stupid prank, you’re both just like that H24.” and i still have nO IDEA what it is supposed to mean but wELL. I GUESS.He didn’t hold any grudge it seems. He kept copies though.  He apparently talked about those weird exams he got to some of his others classes so huh. Legacy and all.

Anyway since then i’ve heard that a few teachers had actually kept copies of those exams so there was no escaping the fact everyone in this highschool knew we were That Dumb. (i mean people knew bc we were doing crack movies for our cinema courses that was projected during a week and all, but that was a specific brand of dumb).

So basically this is perhaps the Peak Dumbass from my Highschool years which means a lot because we were.. doing this sort of things a lot, it just happens that this one time it happened against a teacher who wasn’t used to it and it backfired.

I have no idea if this is the sort of stories you hoped to find but here it is: peak of my life, 15yo me being an idiot. Hope you at least enjoyed the read.

I wish you well ;O

Five @ Five @lesbianmxgicians​

As a part of our author spotlight, we’ve asked each writer to highlight 5 fics and tell us a little about their experience writing (or reading) them.

the violence we do to ourselves by @nemainofthewater​

“You’re going to break your own heart Henry,” Jane says, “You’re storing up an awful lot of trouble for yourself.”

Henry ignores her. Is it so unbelievable that he’s finally cracked it, found the key that will allow the Beast’s defeat 9 timelines early?

I love this fic so much, and I couldn't even get the excerpt without tearing up just a bit. I love Dean Fogg, and Eliot's backstory is very much relatable to me so having Fogg step in as a father figure for him in this fic and all of the emotional quarrel that follows is heartbreaking to read, but I love it.

Bright in the Day by @hetrez

Eliot flops on his back on the ground and smiles at the sky. "The velvet on my jacket feels like the way figs taste," he says. "Margo held my hand yesterday and I squeezed her so hard I hurt her fingers, without even thinking about it. I have too many elbows, or maybe not enough elbows? I don't know anymore." He sounds euphoric, like someone slipped ambrosia into the wildflowers. "And you just -- put a dampener on me. Just like that.”

Alice shrugs, uncomfortable.

Eliot turns his head and glances at her. He gives her a sly smile, looking so much like the Eliot she first met at Brakebills that she feels that same tug her in chest, the urge for him to like her, to want her around. "Come on," he says. "I know you want to say it."

Alice holds out for all of five seconds, and then, "It's not like it was difficult," she says.

Alice and Eliot's friendship is my favourite to think about, and I'm really hoping that next season the show explores it. This fic made me laugh and cry, actually quite an emotional journey. The writing is really good, and the descriptions of Synesthesia were very interesting.

39th Timeline by @monstrous-femme​

When Julia laughed, it was the most beautiful thing Kady had already seen. Fuck, Eliot’s stupid potion really works. “Give me just a minute,” she said, leaving Julia’s side and approaching Margo. A few well phrased words in Margo’s ear and she’d received a glare and a change in music that had half of the people in the room up and dancing in minutes.

By the time Kady had taken a few steps, Julia had crossed the room to meet her. “You’re good,” she said. “Dance with me?”

Kady nodded. The room around her was blurry as Julia’s hands wound their way around her neck. When they danced, all she could feel was her muscles and the way they knew how carry her through a space. So fucking beautiful. Eliot was right, this was all of the best parts of being drunk and none of the yelling, none of the crying behind closed doors and kissing people so they wouldn’t look at her too closely. This was—

Well, magic.

One of my favourite Magicians femslash fics, hands down. It's hopeful and beautiful and absolutely heart wrenching to read. Hailey's just so goddamn talented. I love this part specifically because Kady's just slowly falling in love with Julia here, and it's so sweet.

Lonely Girl Margarita Mix, For One

He sits alone in his office sometimes, Dean Fogg, and he contemplates. He thinks about that one timeline, arguably the worst and his least favourite. Then again, having to live the relative same thing over again thirty nine times- they're all fairly unpleasant. But this one in particular gets him to drink. Then again, most things get Henry to drink.

Notes: I wrote this after one of my now mutuals @baroquebachmountain replied to a headcanon ask meme with something along the lines of 'Dean Fogg secretly drinks Lonely Girl Margarita Mix.' Anything with Henry, I'm immediately on board. I put a bunch of my own headcanons and unfleshed story ideas into this one timeline, posted it and called it a day. It's one of my most read fics, which I find funny since it's one hundred percent just me being a dumbass.

triple sec as drink of choice

"You can leave now," Alice mumbles. "Well I can't exactly do that, now can I? Leaving you here, crying with- is that Triple Sec? It would be against even my own morals." Margo moves to stand in front of her now. Alice looks up. Her eyes are red, cheeks tear stained. Her lips are pulled into a thin, grim line. "So what's got you drinking fruity liqueur?"

"It's less the fruitiness, more the fourty percent alcohol content," Alice says. Margo almost laughs. She sits down next to Alice.

"So it's something big, then."

Alice turns her head to look at Margo beside her. "Look, I appreciate what you're doing, but I really just- don't want to talk about it, okay?"

I actually didn't realize that the alcohol I chose for Alice to be drinking in this fic was actually the alcohol that Alice was drinking when Penny went up to talk to her until about a week ago. Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this fic because I gave Margo some funny lines and got to explore some of the alienation that I think season one Alice definitely feels. Also exploring the canon dynamic of Margo and Alice (#seasononeMalice4lyfe, y'know?) and what could have/should have been was really interesting.

The Avengers Haunted House

Summary: Loki was looking for a way closer to you. Nothing like a little haunted house (with some extra magic touches added) to scare you right into his arms.

Request: Hiii, well I was thinking about request with bucky/reader or loki/reader with a halloween theme(hope it's not too soon 😂). It doesn't matter which pairing you choose it's just I would like to read something funny and fluffy or angsty (your choice). From @marveloustrashpanda!

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Some Halloween fluff, a tiny tinge of pining and lust, & some spooks thrown in!

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! My treat to you is a lil Halloween fic while Loki is bringing the tricks here, so hunker down with some candy and enjoy a short read! Thanks to @marveloustrashpanda for the request!! Love you babe and hope you enjoy!! This was written & posted quickly so I apologize for the typos!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

You were pressed completely flushed against him, barely able to even breathe much less move under him. The cold wall at your back gave you no opportunity to move away. His warm body was lined up with yours, the force of it just on the right side of bearable.

“I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” you mumbled half-heartedly into his shoulder, not in any way sure if the butterflies and stomach turning was from sheer panic or having the Asgardian so skin-warmingly close.

A soft, low chuckle breathed down your ear and neck, Loki’s head leaned down and lips brushed your cheek.

“Yes, my little mortal,” he whispered, chest moving with yours, hands and arms circling you tightly. “I think you bit off far more than you can chew with this one.”

October 29th: Two Days Earlier

To say the Avengers were competitive wouldn’t have been a shock to anyone. You can’t grit and grind to the end of a brutal battle without the deep rooted need to win inside you. And the Avengers all had it. That need to surpass and overcome and above all win no matter what the odds or what the cost? Yeah, that was in no short supply on the team.

Unfortunately when there wasn’t a big bad to go after, that shared competitive spirit often led to interesting discourses and sometimes quite the intense challenges.

“It was by far the scariest costume of the party, I swear.” Clint said, crossing his heart. He was sitting up on the counter, back against the fridge and feet dangling into the sink (much to everyone's resigned displeasure).

“Please,” commented Natasha, used to this kind of confident talk and never letting it just slide. Not with Clint anyways. “I was there, and it was not. How is “The Blob” of all things in anyway scary? People thought you were a potato, Clint.”

The group gather in the lounge of the compound chuckled and smiled, all throwing looks each other. It was quite the amount of commotion, considering there were no missions happening and nothing on the radar either, meaning just about everyone on the team was hanging around. 

You were there sitting comfortably on the couch with Steve and Tony, Clint and Nat were at the bar, with Sam and Thor to one side and Loki leaning against the wall behind you. Save a few members, the whole gang was mostly here and restlessly idle.

“Listen, it was terrifying and you know it, Nat.” Clint said, pointing back at her once the chuckles died down.

“Well, no it wasn’t. What was scary was the house.” Nat said. “It was completely decked out. Looked amazing. It had nothing on the other haunted houses I’ve been in... Or HYDRA crack dens either.”

“I could do it better.” Clint whispered in a sing-song kind of way, looking down at his fingernails.

“Guaranteed I could make a far more scary haunted house than you, french fry.” Tony piped up, not to be outdone. “And none of that low-tech, fake blood stuff, but actually terrifying. You’d all run out screaming your cute little heads off.”

Soon enough everyone was talking, Nat and Clint throwing remarks back and forth, Tony and Sam jabbing at one another on classic scares verses modern frights, and Thor talking to a rather disgusted looking Steve about what the otherworldly terrors he’s been witness too.

You just sighed and leaned into the couch, throwing a knowing look behind you to the quiet Loki who rolled his eyes a little, small smile on his face. Somehow it always ended up like this, the two of you shaking your heads at the boisterous bunch. But an idea came quickly to mind, as it usually did in times like these, and you figured it would be a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone as it were.

“Alright, alright,” you said, interrupting the cacophony before things got hairy. God, no one here was able to handle a bit of free time, were they. “Let’s settle this than? Halloween is in two days. How about anyone who wants to be titled “The Ultimate Horror Champion” picks a room at the compound here and we put on a real haunted house. After that, the few of us not participating vote on which room was the scariest.”

Bright eyes danced from just about everyone at the idea, a brief moment of silence following as minds began sparking with ideas.

“So... I take it that’s a yes?” you asked.

An immediate eruption of voices rang out, agreements flooding in and dibs on specific rooms sounded off. Some just jumped up and raced out of the room to get started on the first ever Avenger Haunted House.

It had at first been infuriating for him to feel this way for a little thing like you.

For some time behind closed doors he fumed at the thrall you had over him, an angry burn that flooded every inch of his Frost Giant body. But inexplicably that fiery heat melted into a calm, purring warmth in his chest whenever you walked into a room. Your sparkling laugh, your bright eyes, your cunning wit, ability to make peace or war with a few words, heaven-crafted beauty… In all actuality you reminded Loki of him, all those qualities he recognized clearly in his own self.

But your charm and personality wielded a quieter kind of power than his. It was a lighter, delicate, and peaceful type of power. An equal and opposite to his own. Despite you being mortal and possessing none of the seiðr Loki had himself, he was quite under your spell and had been for too long.

Eventually the fiery and stubborn resistance to you when you weren’t around faded, leaving him in a constant state of want when you were gone, and hollow contentment when you were close. Because you were just never close enough.

He wanted to feel your skin to his, your breath on his body, ring out in a laughter and pleasure that was all and only for him. And it was at a point where he just about couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Now, part of his acceptance to the team was an agreement made to drastically reduce any magic and not to interfere with mortals... but that agreement was about to be altered. As soon as you had mentioned this Halloween haunted house game, Loki knew he’d manipulate whatever he could about it to his (and your, he assumed as it would mean being closer to him) benefit. He’d been far too good lately, it was time to break a couple rules...

You threw a bag from the cupboard behind you without looking, the plastic smacking down the counter. Bright little wrappers held mini chocolates, ready to be gobbled down by kids (or the bumbling Hogan, who was determined to sit by the door and wait for the trick-or-treating kids… probably only to avoid the supposed oncoming terror of the competition that night).

It was you and Loki in the kitchen alone, though the buzzing energy of the compound was palpable even here. Everyone was scattered and running around, getting all the last minute details in place for their haunted rooms. It had been two days of secrecy and madness, and no-one was willing to give up a spare second, determined not to lose whatever edge they could have.

“I know there were more in here,” you said, rummaging through the cupboard for more treats, voice muffled as you stuck your head in. “Actually, I did see your brother munching on something that could have been mini chocolate bars… I’ll bet he nipped a bag.”

“He is quite greedy and inconsiderate of children.” Loki agreed lightly, subtly emptying his pockets of wrappers into the trash while you weren’t looking.

“Please,” you laughed. “You and I are complete Scrooges compared to him. Let’s not kid ourselves about that.”

He quirked a brow, leaning against the counter a couple feet away from you. Though you couldn’t see him, he didn’t doubt you knew what question was on his mind.

“Sorry, wrong holiday.” you supplemented, now pulling down a million and one things from the cupboard in your hunt for more candy. “Scrooge is a Christmas thing, I don’t think we got to that story last year.”

“It can’t be any more dull than this holiday.” Loki said, gesturing vaguely to nothing.

“Please, you love it, I know you do.” you said above the shuffling. “Candy? Costumes and masks? Theatrics and over-indulgence? You were made to celebrate this holiday. Happens to be my favourite one too.”

“You mortals make no sense to me,” he said in feigning disapproval.

Well, maybe all mortals save you. You he understood perfectly.

“You know, you were here last year for this,” you pointed out to him, head popping out with a triumphant little smile at the bag of treats in your hand. “None of this is new information.”

“I’m aware,” he said with that mix of dry charm which always managed to pull a smirk and half an eye roll from you. “But I still don’t fully understand the point of people willingly giving out sweets rather than indulge in few harmless tricks instead.”

As you turned around to lean against the counter you saw that nothing about his look said any of his tricks would in fact be harmless. You could practically see the wheels turning on what tricks he would pull on kids and people alike behind those gleaming eyes and that subtly mischievous smile.

“What, you don’t like sweet things?” you said, eyes innocent and wide.

That look and the demure way in which you held yourself made him stop a moment, trying to casually swallow down the heated wanting it brought on. He shrugged a shoulder slightly looking at you head on, determined not to let the sway you held overtake him. It gave him a look of intensity, green eyes set to yours.

“Oh my dear, I love sweet little things.” he said back. He was about to take a step forward to you when Clint came barreling through at top speed in a clamorous sprint.

“I need more buckets! Stat!” he hollered as he ran through the kitchen and out the other side, leaving you and Loki watching him in vague humourous confusion. “Stat means now!”

A snort got caught in your throat at that, just as your phone alarm went off.

Looking up to Loki, your eyes were bright and smirk just as mischievous as his had been a moment ago.

“Time’s up for the team,” you said excitedly. “The witching hour is about to start.”

The deal was- much to Loki’s delight- that everyone would be paired up going into each room, and he knew he would have to find a way to get you as his partner.

Maybe mortals were used to giving treats on Halloween now, but he wasn’t mortal and tricks were far more his style. So that was his plan tonight. Just a couple simple tricks, nothing too intense or scary. But just enough to get you to jump in his arms for protection (which he’d happily oblige you).

So when it came down to begin this game, he was set to coerce, maim, or kill to get you alone with him. It was down to the last four people: Rhodes, Wanda, you and Loki. And before Loki could make a sly suggestion (before going to a bit more of an extreme route), you spoke up.

“Alright,” you said easily, to Wanda and Rhodes. “You guys go ahead, Loki and I will follow after and end out this haunting.”

The two took off eagerly, wanting to see what was in store for them after watching the other pair go in one by one. That left you and Loki along in a bright empty hallway, waiting for your turn. And the beginning to what was going to be a deliciously fun night for Loki.

“You ready?” you said quietly to Loki. “Because if I know these guys, they will try and make us run out of there screaming. Hope you’re made of strong stuff.”

“I’ve battled creatures you couldn’t begin to fathom, darling,” he said with that usual smirk to your half-eye roll. “But I’ll protect you from whatever lurks in there, I promise.”

You didn’t see his smile grow as he turned towards the entrance of the hallway. It was a long stretch that would lead to the other rooms, and the first stop in this haunted house. Loki held out his hand to you and you took it.

“Shall we?”

Windows lined the long stretch of the corridor to your left and all the way down at the end of the hall. The dark rustling trees outside and cold night gave off that feel of unease, with the only minimal light (if you could call it that) from the half moon outside. The rest of the space was pitch black, though you thought you could make out murky shapes in the darkness.

Taking a few slow steps in, the pair of you looked at each other, you giving half a shrug before carrying on down the dark space.

A low growl ran out from the speakers, the familiar static of a recording sounding with it. Not terribly scary just yet, despite the near pitch blackness and woods outside.

“I guess we’re starting off with werewolves,” you said to yourself.

Just down the hall you saw several pairs of eyes flash to life all at once, like little painted light bulbs. It was decidedly simple but did look a little eerie in the dark.

Loki took step just behind you, eyes on you as he breathed something in existence that was certainly not of Earth.

A moment later, you stopped in your tracks, confused. Instead of the yellowish eyes in the dark, suddenly red ones appeared. Big, gleaming eyes in the blackness like blood painted rubies shone back to you from the end of the hall. And they looked like they were moving closer. And closer… And closer...

The speakers cut out with a catch, but the growling didn’t stop. In fact, it only got louder, more feral, and dripping with predatory aggression. Your head snapped around behind you as you heard more growls in the dark, surrounding you both from either end. Red eyes watched and slowly moved in on you, only a shadowy outline of a hulking, crawling frame accompanying them. And those hungry eyes were fixed on you.

Okay, now you were a touch scared.

“Loki…” you whispered, voice tight with fear. You closed ranks, moving behind the Asgardian as you two stepped back to the window.

Loki wrapped his arms gently around to the small of your back, feeling you breathing increase and heart pound a bit in your chest against his back. You had a beautiful heat coming off of you, causing a tingle to cascade through his always cool skin.

“How are they doing this exactly?” he asked, keeping all amusement out of his voice and a tinge of apprehension there instead, needing to draw out this rouse as long as possible.

“I… I don’t know.” you whispered, eyes darting to either side of you, watching the red eyes get closer.

“Shall I take them, or will you?” Loki asked turning around a bit and unable to hide just a little humour there.

“Ha, ha,” you said back, giving him a light kick to the shins. “Like you could either keep me away from a fight or make me do all the work. Whatever this is, we’re doing it together obviously.”

With a bit of a gulp you stepped out from behind Loki, hand connecting and lingering with his as you moved slowly towards one end of the hall, and Loki the other.

“Listen,” you said tersely to the creature in front of you, jaw clenched. “If you’re Steve in a wolf costume, know that I’m coming at you. Like really coming at you here. So either drop this or expect a trip to the med bay, Rogers.”

But if there was a person in a costume, they made no indication.

Its deep growl became so low that it almost passed into an octave that you couldn’t hear, and its huge shadowy frame began to shift down closer to the ground. Just as it was preparing to pounce, so were you.

The moment it sprung up all chaos was let loose, ear shattering barks and claws scraping against tiles, flashes of dark shadows, blood red eyes, and snapping white teeth in the dark.

You dodged the initial strike, swiftly moving to the side by the skin of your teeth and gripping on the rough fur as it flew to where you stood just a second ago. You held on and used the momentum to throw yourself up onto the huge hunched back of whatever the hell this thing was, the jutting vertebrates digging into you.

Instantly the thing started freaking out, bucking and throwing its snapping teeth back to try and get at you, snarling and furious. In the darkness you locked the monster into a headlock, try to constrict its airways and knock this thing out.

“Jump!” came a voice, knocking the focus out of you and kicking in your reflexes. Instantly you complied, leaping off the creature and crashed to the ground. Just in time for a second beast to go hurling full speed at the thing, sending them both tumbling violently down the hall in a heap.

Hands were on you, lifting you up and carrying you down the hall in the second. As the creatures shook their heads dazed and struggled in the pile of limbs to stand, you and Loki raced by. You crashed through the door to the lit hallway, Loki setting you against the wall quickly before closing and securing the door behind you in a fevered rush.

The moment you were out and free from those things, you were leaned against the wall, hands on your knees, puffing and shaking your head.

“Okay… that may be the first one but that is the one to beat!” you said, straightening a bit and running and hand through your hair.

Loki was up to you in a moment, hands place on your waist and cupping your cheek, his expression concerned and caring.

“Are you alright?” he whispered to you, an innocent concern in his forest green eyes.

You closed your eyes and leaned your face into his hands. The feeling of it sent a bolt of addicting electricity straight through him. Touching you was an intoxication, but having you seek it out? Indescribably exquisite. His cool hand practically burned in the best possibly heat he’d felt.

“Yeah,” you said clearing your throat and straightening up, pulling away from his hand and breaking that electric connection with a snap. “Yeah, that was just… unexpected, I guess.”

Gently Loki tucked your loose hair delicately behind your ear, savouring the feel of you as much as he could and finding himself quite unable to stop touching you.

“They certainly can’t get any worse than that now, can they,” he said warmly, leaning in perhaps a little too much. “To the next?”

The next room was the large boardroom built to host quite a number of people, and much to your delight it was a great deal brighter than the last dark corridor. Also, it had no large dark beasts in it, so that was already a plus.

If the last one was like meeting wolves on a dark dangerous road, this room was like a jello factory exploded and left this room filled with the jiggly, colourful mess.

Big globs of slime were on the tables and chairs, dripping down the wall and ceiling, squelching on the floor as you stepped into the room. It made the room glow in a practically neon way.

You smacked a hand to your face, grin creeping out.

“Guess what this is,” you said, turning to Loki before raising your hands and wiggling your fingers spookily. “The Blob!”

You turned around to look at the complete goopy mess this place was, hand on your hip as you wandered in.

“Clint is going to have an awful time cleaning this up. Yeesh,” you said, picking up a fistful of the wet squishy stuff from the table. “This is just weirdly gross. I hope this isn’t some weird fetish of his…”

“Uh, Y/N?” Loki said. When you turned he was pointing up to a vent just on the wall beside you.

Forcing its way slowly through was more of that blob stuff, pushing through the grates of the vents and moving down the wall with seemingly more purporse than jello should.

“He put it in the vents?! Damn it, Clint.” you mumbled. But that wasn’t the worst of it you soon noticed.

It start coming out from under the door you just entered from too. Then pouring down from the ceiling light fixtures. You clutched Loki’s wrist as a snapping crack rang out, making you jump. You felt your feet shift, looking down in a bit of shock as the tiles were cracking and pushing up, ooze determined to get through.

Maddenly quick the fast unevening floor pushed and toppled chairs, raising up the table and cracking it in two, splitting the drywall, and coming down in huge chunks with the ceiling.

You decided now was the time to run.

You grabbed Loki’s hand, maybe taking two steps before slipping, jerking him down to the ground right on top of you. He ended up with his face coming down on the back of your neck, luckily able to brace slightly so you weren’t completely crushed under his Asgardian body.

You let out a groan, shifting and shuffling on the soaking ground so you were on your back, facing him with a hand on your forehead, eyes shut against the knock of pain the floor had given you.

Meanwhile Loki was transfixed, his body on top of yours with the lightest of pressure and the heaviest of longing in his chest. With every fast breath he lowered himself a touch more down on you, unable to help the temptation to simply be near and locked to you, to feel that sweet heat you gave off across the whole length of his body.

Loki took a second, risking you question of him not moving or demand he get off, staying on top of you with lips trailing just above your cheek...

When your eyes did open they immediately looked behind Loki, spurring you on to scramble up off the cracking vibrating floor. Loki turned, seeing the ooze coming up like a tidal wave about to crash down on you both.

Immediately (for the second time tonight already) he ripped you up from the ground into his arms, racing for the door. He threw himself against it and kicked it closed just as the slime was about to breach the threshold and drown you both.

The force back his kick made ended up pushing you both to the ground, your legs ending up over his lap, head on his shoulder, and back pinning his arm. Your soaked body was practically clinging to him with the slime. The pair of you took a moment together, breathing at your second narrow escape of the night.

“Just don’t tell Clint I thought this was scary, okay?” you said between breaths.

Loki just nodded as you lay there, you focusing instead on wiping slime from your face and arms though you didn’t move to get off him just yet. Loki practically hummed to himself, relishing the feel of your body and legs draped over him and your wet thigh under his hand. Slime covered or not, your skin still felt as great as he knew it would be.

That was the moment he knew he simply loved Halloween.

The next room was in a small but long lab, mostly used as overflow for any big projects Bruce and Tony were working on in the main lab.

This time when you stepped in, you were already holding Loki’s hand, not taking any chances this time. Just as he was hoping. And if he had anything to do about it, that closeness would only increase with each scare. So cautiously and hand-in-hand, you two entered.

The room was bright white and completely empty. As in there was nothing in it at all. No lab equipment to speak of or tables or chairs or fixtures or even outlets. The ceiling was basically a panel of frosted glass serving as one blinding light, while the floors and walls were the same huge white tiles. Nothing else at all.

“Well, this has a vague asylum feel to it,” you said, trying to rationalize what whoever set this up was going for. “Minus the padded walls.”

“Quite underwhelming,” Loki said, looking around, hand still holding onto yours, doing his best to slow his softly moving fingers against your skin.

“Not for long kids!” said Tony’s voice over the speaker, jolting you right up to Loki’s side.

A thin panel quick came down over the door you entered, preventing any escape for whatever Tony had planned, leaving the only escape at the very far end of the room. A moment later you heard a grinding machinery type noise, followed by some loud whirling. It was instantly accompanied by the walls starting to move in.

“Oh great!” you half shrieked, grabbing Loki and running.

But you only made it a few steps when a terribly loud bang from behind the walls sounded, knocking you both to the side and up against the wall. You immediately stumbled back from it, as now the once slowly moving walls were suddenly moving a mile a minute.

“Oh, I regret suggesting this stupid idea!” you yelled into the deafening whirling room, neither of you able to get even footing as you were forced back. “I regret everything in my life leading up to this moment! I regret Tony Stark ever being born!”

In second your back hit the opposing wall, coming up fast to meet you. You kicked out your legs, trying to keep the other wall from moving anymore and crushing you, but it was no use. A few second later you held your arms out against it, the space shrinking so fast you were practically blinded by panic.

Before the wall could reach you, Loki moved from your side to in front of you, your chest to his, bracing one wall with his forearms and one with his back. But even then it wasn’t enough, Loki having to settle for wrapping his arms around you.

Another loud bang and crack sounded, the walls stopping their movement in a jarring lurch. The whirled stopped suddenly, leaving the two of you positively pinned to each other, the only sound in the sudden silence being the breath passing between you.

“Well, holy shit,” Tony sounded after a few moments. You would have jumped at the sound if you could have moved in any way at all. “No idea what in hell happened, but I am fixing it right now, I swear! Don’t die, okay bye.”

There really was nothing to do but stand. You were pressed completely flushed against Loki, barely able to even breathe much less move under him. The cold wall at your back gave you no opportunity to move away. His warm body was lined up with yours, the force of it just on the right side of bearable.

Your legs were a tangle together, hips pinned to hips, stomach and chest pressed to each other, one of your arms caught between you the other stuck to your side as Loki’s arms wrapped around you.

“I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” you mumbled half-heartedly into his shoulder, not in any way sure if the butterflies and stomach turning was from sheer panic or having the Asgardian so skin-warmingly close.

A soft, low chuckle breathed down your ear and neck, Loki’s head leaned down and lips brushing your cheek.

“No, my little mortal,” he whispered, chest moving with yours hand and arms circling you tightly. “I think you bit off far more than you can chew with this one.”

“Can’t believe my first bad idea will actually be the death of me,” you chuckled nervously, trying to ease the palpable tension at the sudden and extreme closeness you had yet to experience with him.

Your teammate and friend he may be, but that hardly meant you found yourself in this type of situation ever. It was making you positively dizzy.

That laughter ended up with the tiniest squeak from you as Loki tried to shift, the smallest amount of additional pressure stifling. You tried to ignore how beautifully nice it was to have a cool body against yours, the heat flooding your system about to do you under.

“Am I hurting you, darling?” he whispered to you in response to your tiny surprised whimper.

“I…” you started, thankful at least you could hide into his shoulder. “I think a little maybe.”

A few beats passed before he spoke, delicately hushed voice in your ear.

“Then it’s time we left, I believe.”

He moved both his body on the front of your and his hands behind you, leaving you pressed and pulled into him. You turned up to Loki quickly, eyes wide and nose brushing his, about to speak before he cut you off.

“If I can get my hands loose,” he started, green eyes completely filling your view. “I’ll push against the wall and we see about breaking free, hmm?”

You swallowed and nodded once, tip of your nose lightly touching his. He held your stare a moment before shifting again, hands eventually pulling free.

Putting them up against the wall with his cheek leaned down to yours, he pushed. The groaning mechanics behind the wall protested, metal screeching and electronics popping out sharp snaps of sound. Loki breathed heavily in your ear, making a show of exerting himself in effort before with a booming crash the wall fell away.

The sudden loss of pressure against your back caused to you to stumble backwards with the wall, almost hitting the floor before cool strong arms caught you, bring you nose to nose with Loki yet again.

He said nothing, just looked at you as you watched him, the smallest and contentest smile on his face.

The next room was… well, different than the others.

The two of you stopped a couple feet in looking around with pulled together brows and similarly confused expressions.

“Is this…” you started, narrowing your eyes. “Did someone recreate Clint’s bedroom?”

There was about a hundred dirty socks, underwear, and old flannel shirts around a lumpy mattress of a bed and scattered across the entire floor. That was pretty much it. It was minimal to say the least.

“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that Bucky and Sam teamed up to do… this,” you said, pointing out around the room which also included a waste bin in the corner filled with old fruit peels and half-empty milk containers.

“I… have nothing.” Loki said, giving up on what exactly to do with this mess.

“Next?” you said, stepping up to him perhaps closer than you usually did, he thought.

“Please,” Loki said looking to one corner over your shoulder. “Because I do believe they actually put vermin in here.”

You looked over your shoulder to the corner in question, see a bit of movement there too.

“Or the rats just followed the smell from Clint’s actual bedroom…”

Another pitch black room. This time you had wrapped Loki’s arm around your waist and the other went to your hip, pressing fingers and palms into you. Loki was deliciously breathing you in, trying to think of all the delightful ways he could draw his night out. Or perhaps he would just have to resort to scaring you more often?

The thought brought him to an edge, where one side lay the addicting closeness brought on from scaring you, and the other side the soul-warming feeling of protecting you from fear. He wanted the best of both and he’d find a way to get it.

An otherworldly wail built up from the ground in the darkness, and instantly in his arms, you froze.

A whispery white flash moved just out of sight to the your left, and you closed your eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again. Somehow, Loki noticed, you were already more scared than any other room, and he had only barely gotten started. Your skin had turned a bit colder, muscles tight and body stiff, breath shallow and shaky.

Another whip of white to the right and your nails dug into his flesh. Loki loved that feeling, wanting those nail to trance down his bare back…

In full view a devilish looking wraith came flying at the pair of you, shrieking furiously in the darkness.

A blood curdling scream erupted from you, quite unlike the ones you had made previously tonight, instantly turning and clutching into Loki with all the strength you had. You positively buried yourself into Loki’s neck, trying your best it seemed to keep from screaming.

“Loki, I hate ghosts,” you whispered, an octave lower than your usual tone and certainly not at all stable. “I hate them, I’m terrified. Please don’t do this, please just get me out?”

Loki stood there, a little surprised at this. Quick as always he wondered if by your words you knew what game he was playing, or if he had simply taken this too far. He hadn’t know you’d have this reaction though. Instantly he snapped his fingers and the ghosts that had suddenly filled the room left.

Loki lifted you easily, carrying you bridal style through the room and out of it. You didn’t look up, didn’t move from your clutching position in his arms, muscles still tense.

The bright and blissfully normal looking hallway on the other side was filled with Avengers, all trying to figure out what the hell happened tonight and also who had won. From the groups voices and yelling and arguments you heard Thor boom above the rest calling out for Loki in that frustrated motherly way he did, trying to search the crowd and rooms for his brother.

Loki took you down a quiet hall away from the commotion, setting your feet down and leaning you back against the wall. His hands went to your neck, his thumbs pushing your chin up to look at him, his face leaned down barely an inch away from yours.

“The ghosts were a little far, I think,” you said weakly, trying to swallow down some of the fear. What you didn’t do was move away though, sticking close and leaning into his touch. “It may not have taken much, but that was enough of your tricks, I thought.”

“When did you figure it out?” Loki asked, a bit of smug pride that his source of affection and longing saw through the little scheme (yet still let him have his fun, at least until the end).

“The first room, Loki,” you said in an obvious tone with bit of a shaky grin. “Werewolves don’t exist here. Neither does The Blob. And you’re Asgardian by the way, so I don’t doubt if you really wanted out of a room with closing walls you’d just do it and a lot faster. Now, Clint’s dirty gym clothes? That was definitely real and certainly terrifying.”

You chuckled to yourself at your own joke and Loki couldn’t help but watch you, his enjoyment coming from your own.

“Now,” you said, looking a bit more serious. “You’re not usually a jerk… To me anyway. So do you want to tell me what you were trying to do tonight?” You took a deep breath and sighed into him, your body completely flush to his and heavy lidded eyes matching his. “To scare me away, or scare me close?”

“Close, darling,” he whispered, hands moving to pull your lips to his.

Loki leaned in just as you did, closing the infinitesimally small distance together. That electric jolt of pleasure when he touched you was nothing compared to this, his heart and body lighting up like a birth of a new star. Your calming, easy energy shifted to match his fiery one in that moment as your lips moved against his. He was met with a wanting that matched his, a fever that rivalled his own. He was drunk on you in a moment, only retaining the barest of controls as he held your mortal little body under his own.

Pulling away he breathed your air, revelling in it, finally getting what he wanted and knowing he was not about to let it go. That place of longing inside him purred at the connection, deciding to fall on the side of protecting you from fear.

“I should have planned this earlier,” you said, hushed and lids still low with a lingering wanting that Loki was drowning in. “If I had known this was all it would take to get you to kiss me like that.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, unable to help grinning at that gleam in your eyes others often saw in his own eyes. Usually it meant pure mischief in him, but with you, there was an undeniable added hint of kindness. “You purposely wanted me to do all this? To frighten you like this, all for a kiss?”

“Of course,” you said, leaning up to kiss him again gently, lingering there just above his lips. Even that small touch made his breath hold in his chest. “I might be sweet but I have some tricks up my sleeve too. Especially on Halloween.”

A/N: Happiest of Halloweens darlings! This was my first Loki fic so I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought?? A reblog or message would make my day!

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Should We Silence Bad Comedy?

I stopped writing in this at the end of last year mostly because I was sick about writing about comedy. This is time-consuming and I had other things to work on and the criticism and opinions of comedy have started to feel far more hack than comedy itself can be. But going on the road and doing comedy this past year, a number of different comedians and audience members brought up this blog and so I figured that, when I felt like it, I’d still post in this again. As you’ll see, given the numerous links to previous essays I’ve written, I’m writing yet again about topics I’ve already written about before but it’s only because comedy, comedians, and the mostly meaningless debate over it continues to get worse.

The most recent debates conjure up what continues to be the crux of comedy’s biggest current issue with simple terms like “free speech,” “PC,” “woke,” etc. just being thrown around with little care for an in-depth analysis of what these mean and how they mean different things to different people. This rears its head yet again with the recent Netflix specials of Dave Chappelle and Bill Burr and the firing of Shane Gillis by Saturday Night Live. It’s a strange moment in which those at the top of stand-up comedy and certain comedians on the rise are being lumped together over these issues and it’s created a muddied mess. The perspective I have and that I wish others had was that we should all think deeper on this and fall somewhere in the middle.

I’m not going to get much into the Shane Gillis situation mostly because I don’t care. I didn’t read much about it and I got the gist of what happened and that’s all that’s really needed at this point in a case of creating something likely very stupid that masks itself as comedy. If you’re in comedy long enough, you understand that it’s a business like everything else. For as “unique” or “alternative” or “fearless” as your comedy may be or you perceive it to be, it still will be scrutinized by corporate interests. SNL still has to abide by the cultural phenomenon it has become and that it is part of a corporate juggernaut. All Gillis had to do was play the usual card that comes with public relations and apologize in an appropriate manner. As most stories do, this would have all blown over and been forgotten about in a week or less. He chose not to apologize appropriately. He was fired as a result. That was his choice to double down on what seems to be both his past and his present and his support of what I can only perceive to be bad, unfunny, and uncreative comedy.

Chappelle and Burr are at a different level because they’ve earned it and, unfortunately, they get a huge brunt of it because they are famous and the expectations associated with them are so high. Why Chappelle doubled down on making jokes at the expense of the trans community or why he did a hack impression of a Chinese man in his most recent Netflix special is beyond me. Why Burr chooses to rail yet again at audiences being offended by what he says is beyond me as well especially when he’s mentioned this in a previous special in a much funnier manner. It seems only like they’ve lived at the top in comedy for so long and are now irritated by unnecessary criticism. In some sense, it’s understandable. But, for the most part, it seems just as unnecessary as the poor criticism. Why create uninventive comedy based out of anger towards audiences that, for whatever reason, don’t like you anyway rather than create comedy that’s observational and hilarious and was what made you considered the best in the business? I have no clue but this is at least where part of the material in Chappelle and Burr’s recent specials are at. 

                               Sprinkle some crack on this impression.

But the types of individuals that seem to draw the ire of Chappelle and Burr and went after Gillis as well are equally bizarre to me. The fact that our culture has some sort of desire to tear down comedy or that it should fit some sort of “good” and “sensitive” mold for all is strange as well. It speaks to these individuals not actually having a knowledge of how comedy, business, and most of this country operates. Forcing someone into experiencing how comedy should be experienced and what kind of comedy they are allowed to like doesn’t change them. Making an effort to “cancel” a person simply because their comedy is in poor taste doesn’t particularly resolve anything other than to embolden those that support such bad comedy. This, to me, isn’t the way to change minds, implement diverse perspectives, or educate people in comedy. But, I’m not the loudest person in the room or a part of the masses of either side in this issue. Most sound and reasonable comedians and audience members aren’t a part of this conversation because we’re, shockingly, creating and enjoying good comedy. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Chappelle is one of the greats to me. Killin’ Them Softly was one of, if not the, most influential comedy specials on me. I still love him and thinks he’s hilarious. It doesn’t mean that I support his jokes about the trans community or find them funny. It doesn’t mean I understand why he did or talked about some of the things he talked about in his most recent special. As friend Curtis Cook put it best on Twitter, “Dave Chappelle is kinda my idol ‘cause it’s always been my goal to walk away from 50 million dollars after realizing audiences are laughing in a way that belittles the struggles of my people then return a decade later to make that money back by belittling the struggles of others.” I can’t explain why Chappelle said or does what he does on a stage now but it’s his right he’s earned and there’s certainly a lot of money involved in it.

Regardless, I also laughed hard at certain parts in his special. The stuff about R. Kelly, gun control, and Jussie Smollett were vintage Chappelle to me. Is it his best special? No. Is he becoming old and detached? Likely. Does it mean I dislike him and kick his entire comedy to the curb? (No, or at least not yet unless some horrible, illegal stuff comes out about him). The same goes for Burr.

Gillis, on the other hand, was fired for statements he said that have been around for as long as comedy has existed. Bad comedy that punches down, is uninventive, and involves slurs will persist. I can say that because I have traveled the country for over a decade doing stand-up comedy and the audiences for that are there. They are there because people’s perspectives on comedy still are mostly in that realm either because they haven’t been exposed much to quality, creative comedy, they haven’t gone out of their comfort zone in life or comedy so bad comedy is all they know, or they are, frankly, just dumb people. But, as I mentioned, I don’t think you have the potential for changing people with comedy by forcing a certain type of experience on them. You change them by providing them with a different option and hope they enjoy it and learn from it. In many cases, they do not, but when they do, it’s far more rewarding as a performer to do that than to spend time making sure some guy you don’t know who probably sucks at comedy anyway gets fired from a job.

In my approach to comedy, I want to experience as many different types of audiences as possible. That’s just me. Comedy has always been segregated because our nation is still unraveling from a history of segregation. And I can at least say, having the opportunity to perform in a variety of different places, that there are equal amounts of bad comedy in all of them. There is bad comedy in comedy clubs (most of it). There is bad comedy in small towns (most of it). There is bad comedy in corporate events (most of it). There is bad comedy in alternative rooms (most of it). There is bad “ethnic” comedy (most of it). Maybe my comedy is bad to you, too! That’s just part of it all. And as we supposedly attempt progression in society, through the Internet and this discussion and debate on comedy, we are actually segregating ourselves even more than how segregated comedy rooms already are.

Look, I’ve been shit on for my race and who I am my entire life. I’ve been told by bookers that my material will “sail over their audience’s heads.” I’ve also been booked where I watched my comedy “sail over an audience’s head” and bomb horribly. I’ve also been booked and appreciated immensely by audiences. I’ve had the opportunity to headline really great rooms and open for really great comedians that I respect and that are now friends. All of that doesn’t happen without allowing myself to experience all aspects of comedy, take some shit and unnecessary criticism in life and comedy, and be better personally for it. Whether audiences will be better for it is up to them. Whether my fellow comedians choose to do this and try to be better is up to them as well. But, right now, we’re just in a vicious circle (thanks Dane Cook!) over this topic of bad comedy and the defense of bad comedy that makes all of comedy look dumber than its audiences. From my perspective, we shouldn’t silence bad comedy. It only energizes those that love and defend it. We should actually be continuing to create better comedy than it and hope it can change others. It probably won’t but whatever. It’s better than bitching constantly about the same topics over and over again but, then again, that appears to be what we’re fighting over in comedy: the ability to tell hacky stuff in our specific comedy room of choice and defend those we don’t even know to be able to do the same thing.

Laughter is a unique thing because it’s an emotion we can all have as humans. We all can experience it in whatever way we like and we’re bonded together by it. What prompts laughter for each person is different just as what leads to our other emotions are different as well among each of us. We shouldn’t condemn people for laughing just as we shouldn’t condemn them for crying or getting angry at a moment they likely shouldn’t have. We should try to educate them or make them laugh at something better just as we try to make our other emotions like sadness or anger better in other parts of our lives. If trying to make better comedy or these types of people laugh fails, then we move on. They’re left to live in whatever hole they would like with comedy. But there are plenty of people open to being better with comedy. Unfortunately, for now, comedians and their audiences are so caught up in a defense or condemnation of comedy in its most uncreative forms that they aren’t actually looking at why they appreciate comedy to begin with.

Sweet Demons, Part 5 - Zeitgeist/Axel Cluney

Title: Sweet Demons

Description: It's the weekend of Friday the Thirteenth, the biggest motorcycle rally and festival in the Western Hemisphere but nothing is more enticingly chaotic to her than the mysterious new member of the famous Motor City Sweet Demons.

Warning: 18+ Mentions of drugs/alcohol/violence, eventual smut/various kinks

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

We sat on the pier drinking cheap beer from cans. The sun had gone down an hour ago but we stayed right where we were, gazing out over the shimmering lake. The smell of water and algae was strong but I would lean my head on Axel's shoulder and his scent would make me forget everything else. The majority of the day we had spent riding around on his bike and even ventured past the farmland and went into the next town just because we could. There was a little pub advertising half-price appetizers and pitchers of sangria so we went in and got ourselves a little booth at the back where nobody besides the server would bother us. Axel had on the tattered rag of a shirt that I had washed for him earlier that day so anybody at any time could see his white ribs and contentious tattoos and though we drew some stares, I kind of enjoyed the attention. The heavy feeling in my chest grew as the hours passed by because I knew he was going to be leaving in the morning. I tried not to let it get to me but I couldn't distract myself long enough to put it completely from my mind. He noticed it too, somehow. He knew that I didn't want him to go even if I said nothing to allude to it. He grasped my bare thigh just below the leg of my shorts and shook me from a reverie after we had received our pitcher of blood orange sangria. "Why are you suddenly so quiet, huh?" He asked, poking me in the rib. I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Just thinking, I guess." He poured me and himself a glass, slid mine over and then took a sip of his own, the sweet wine clinging to the stubble over his top lip until he licked it off. "'Bout what?" "About stupid shit." "Like?" With a huff, I downed half my glass in one go, set it on the dark wood table and turned to face him directly. "I don't know, I'm thinking about you and it's stupid. I don't like it." Laughingly, he replied, "what do you mean? What are you thinking of?" "Kinda just about how like... I don't want you to go." "Ah," he observed. "I knew that's what you were going to say." "No, you didn't!" "Yes, I did." "Whatever," I sighed. "I'm sorry I have to go. Well I mean, I'm not sorry but I'm sorry that you feel that way. You should be thankful that I'll be leaving tomorrow. You guys get your house back and you won't have to deal with any more greasy bikers for a little while." It was true that I had been bitching all weekend about all of the company we had had but the more time I spent with Axel the more I wanted to figure him out. Our time together was running out and as much as I hated it, I was starting to feel a sense of attachment to him. Everything from his slicked-back brown hair to his ridiculous shirts, the rings on his fingers and the way his green eyes shot through me made me long for more of him. "Yeah, I guess so," I said, dismissing the topic. The more we drank the more we started talking and once our food came out we were already deep in conversation, so much so that we didn't give the server much acknowledgment. Axel asked me questions about what it was like to grow up with Big Al as a father and I asked him about his own origin story. He was vague with his details but had no qualms with telling me that he had literally been on the road since he was of legal age to drive. He had no home and the nights he didn't spend on people's couches he would spend on his bike, ripping up and down the entire country, riding from place to place with no real end goal in mind. "Why don't you like riding?" He asked me through a mouthful of food. "I don't know. Just not my thing," I said. "Bullshit," he called out. "I don't believe that for a second! I see how excited you get when you ride with me. You fucking love it. So what's your beef with being on a bike?" The alcohol making its way into my bloodstream activated and all of a sudden I felt cocksure enough to really let loose and give him the gory details of my life. I think I secretly hoped that if I opened up to him he would do the same to me so I took in a deep breath and prepared myself to tell him a story that only a handful of people knew about. "The honest truth is... I don't ride because of my mom." "Oh?" "Yeah... One year when I was about twelve and we had everybody over for a Thirteenth party. Everybody. It was always the tradition. Always has been. Anyway, I don't really know the actual specifics but basically... My mom was a rider too and I guess she met someone that weekend and they just fuckin' took off together and she never ever came back. She left me and my dad without saying a word. We thought something bad had happened to her. Filed a missing person and everything." Axel had stopped chewing and sat there looking at me with his big green eyes completely locked on me. "Well, shit." "Yeah. So I don't know, I guess I just built up this hatred inside of me. Mostly because I watched it totally destroy my dad inside and out. He blamed himself for her taking off and the more time went by the worse it got for him. I don't know if you noticed but... He's not in the greatest health and I really do think its because his heart broke. It made me hate everything to watch him turn from this bright, excited guy to this fucking... This husk of a man. I swore I would never have anything to do with bikers after that." "Yet, here you are." "Well, you never fucking know what's going to happen. One day we were a happy family and the next I'm consoling my dad; the biggest, scariest motherfucker there is." "Shit... So did you ever find out where she went?" I chugged back the rest of my drink before answering, "No. Not really. My dad had some guys out on the road trying to find her but the bitch didn't want to be found." "That's rough. I'm sorry that happened to you guys." "It's okay. I'm over it, clearly." "Are you though?" "I think so. I don't think about her much. I know my dad does but I sure as hell don't. Fuck her." Axel opened his mouth to say something but instead caught himself, reached for the pitcher and poured the rest of what was left into my glass. I thanked him and started sipping away immediately, turning hot in the cheeks after realizing I had just spilled a truckload of personal information on him. "What about you? What's your swan song?" I asked, eager to shift the attention off of me. He let out a puff of air, leaned back against the cushions and stretched out his arms so they practically wrapped around the entire booth. "Nothing really. I've just been riding the world, looking for answers." "Answers to what?" "That I don't know." "Hmph," I said, raising my eyebrows and peering into the glass of crimson liquid. "Really that's all? You don't have any shitty backstory to tell me?" "Nope. I'm just some low-life trying to figure out my own shit." "Well? What exactly is your shit?" It was at that moment Axel flagged the server over. She approached with a gleaming smile and asked us if we wanted anything else to which he replied no, nothing but the bill. He smiled at me and brought his arm down to wrap around my shoulders. Squeezing me, he pressed a quick kiss to my temple. "Come on, kid. Drink up. We have to ride back." When we got back into town we decided to pick up some beer before the store closed and took it to the pier to continue the night. Once the breeze grew cold and the cops started roaming the beach on their quads we packed up, drained whatever beer we had left and chucked the cans back into the plastic bag we had brought them in. Axel's steps were much longer than mine and when he looked back at me he held out his hand for me to grab onto. It took a skip for me to catch up with him but once I slid my hand over his he locked our fingers together as though that were just a casual thing to do. Thankful that it was dark, I blushed profusely and tried not to let him catch me smiling. I nuzzled my face into his back as I wrapped my arms around his waist once I was on the back of his bike. He grasped the handles, turned the front wheel straight and we kicked off quickly. The ride back to my house was only two minutes but I wished it was longer. From behind him, he couldn't hear me sigh. The garage door was open and light poured out as we pulled up onto the driveway. My dad, Braun and Max were all standing inside it, beers in hand, chatting about whatever until they noticed the acid-green bike pull up. Axel parked at the end of the line right beside Janet's pitch black Harley. He got off first and offered me his hand to help me climb off. Allowing me to walk in front of him, he gently tapped me on the ass with his palm as we ascended the shallow slope of the driveway and jogged away before I had a chance to react. "There's the kids!" Max yelled at us. As I approached, I saw nothing but smiles and one dour sneer belonging to Braun. I could feel the awkwardness unlike anybody else, especially once we stopped in front of them, Axel seemingly brushing off the tension since he kept his hand on the small of my back. Braun's eyes landed on me and he shook his head when he noticed how close Axel and I stood beside each other. "Axe, you better not be plottin' to take my kid with you," dad warned. He looked at me with a warm smile and scrunched up his nose, "Nah, she stinks. Plus she won't fit in my throw-over." "Better start saying your goodbyes now. We leave at the crack of dawn," Max reminded him. "Yeah, yeah." Axel affronted playfully, gesturing for Max to be done with his Presidential duties. Braun tipped the beer bottle he had all the way up, sucked the rest of the liquid down to the foam and turned around quickly, throwing the bottle into a box of empties with noticeable force, shattering it loudly. My dad blinked his shock at Braun but he had already turned away and headed out the back door toward the backyard. "I know one person who's going to be happy to see yous gone," Dad said with a shake of his head. "That dude has it out for me," Axel laughed. "Ah, don't mind him. He's had his heart set on Angel since they were kids. He'll move on eventually." "Yeah, he better," I scoffed. "Well Big Al, I hate to say it but I think it's time I turn in. Got a long road ahead of us tomorrow." "No, no, no ya don't. Not yet, kid. We're going to the clubhouse for one more round," Dad claimed, clapping Max on the back with a leathery smack. Nobody would argue much with my dad but before we headed off I held onto Axel's hand, keeping him tethered to me for just a moment as they made their way out of the back door of the garage. He spun around and smirked at me, getting really close and bringing his hands up to frame my face. "What is it now, ya bug? What do you want from me?" "Where are you sleeping tonight?" I asked him, uncaring whether I sounded clingy or not. Axel stuck out his bottom lip and the way the light cast over his face drew my attention and made me want to kiss him even though I knew he didn't like it. There were so many things about him that I hated yet I couldn't keep myself from wanting him by me at every possible second. I knew I was breaking my own heart by indulging my lust for him but the way he leered at me with his eyes always burning gave me the impression that maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same. He looked over his shoulder to make sure everyone had left the garage before tipping my chin up and leaning in close. "Honey... If you think I'm not spending my last night balls deep in that pussy then you don't know me at all. Now come on, let's go have a drink with your dad and then we'll go have a little farewell party of our own, sound good?" We spent another hour up in the clubhouse bar making toasts and drinking more than we probably should have with every member of the Motor City Sweet Demons and company. By the time midnight rolled around, I was feeling a little bit more than tipsy. It had been a long time since I had felt the heady rush of being sloppy and I nearly lost my footing once I hopped off the bar stool I had been perched on, much to Axel's amusement. "Hey! I don't need to have the talk with you kids, do I?" Dad asked as we readied ourselves to leave the clubhouse. "Dad... Please don't." "I'll have her home by midnight, sir!" Axel snickered. "Ah, shut it. Careful on those stairs ya fuckin' drunks." "Love you, Dad!" I called out to him. Once we made it out of the clubhouse, through the yard, into the house, and up the stairs to my bedroom, Axel had his shirt off and was already working on getting mine off as well. I tried to pull him down with my hand on the back of his neck to kiss him but he pulled away. I frowned at him and tried my luck again but he was strong and if he didn't want to be moved he wouldn't be. "Not this shit again," I complained. "I've had a lot to drink," he said. "So what?" "So... I don't feel like kissing." His dismissal was enough to set off the very sensitive alarm in my head and I pushed him away from me, scowling and angered with my shirt off and my shorts partially undone. "Fine! Get away from me then." "Come on! Let's just get into bed and cuddle a bit before I slide my cock into that warm little-" "No! I don't want to sleep with you if you're not going to kiss me or... Or anything! What's your fucking problem?" Axel rolled his eyes and tried to approach me again but I took a step away from him, bumping into my dresser as my recollection of space was veiled beneath intoxication. He giggled at me but it only served to make me angrier. "I already told you what my problem is. You don't seem to get it." "But, you've kissed me before." "I wasn't nearly so drunk," Axel pointed out. "What does it matter? Drunk or sober... You're like a rollercoaster. It's always up and down and shit." "Yet... You still wanna ride me, don't you?" I cracked the slightest smile and he laughed at me, grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into him so he could wrap his arms around me. I sighed as we began to sway, dancing to music that wasn't on. He ran his hands up and down my bare back and then pulled away so he could run his hands over my breasts, bottom lip tucked between his teeth mischievously. "Come on. I'm leaving tomorrow. Don't be mad at me." "I hate you." "I know. I hate me too." Grasping the waist of his jeans, I popped open the button, pulled down the zipper and shoved the material down until I could see the hilt of his cock. He was already moaning by the time I pulled him out of his jeans completely and when I dropped to my knees I watched his mouth fall open. He pulled in air through his teeth as soon as my tongue made contact with the tip of his cock. I made a spectacle of teasing him and licking him gently until he was so hard that I didn't even have to hold his shaft in my grip. "Fuck," he drawled when I took him in my mouth, running my flattened tongue along the underside of his entire length from head to balls. "You like that, Daddy? Feels good having your cock in my mouth doesn't it?" Axel chewed his bottom lip again and ran his thumb over my cheek in preparation for a light, encouraging slap. "You know I like that dirty mouth on my dick." Humming around him, I took him deeper and watched with wide eyes at the way his expressions changed from his usual snarky grin to absolutely entranced by the way I was able to encase his entire length with my throat. His hips started to shift forward and once drool started to drip down from the corners of my mouth, he pulled away, bent down and lifted me up so he could toss me on the bed. "Take off those shorts...Turn around," He commanded. I did what I was told and once I was completely exposed to him he groaned and got up on the bed behind me. The head of his cock grazed my opening and I was already so slick with arousal that there was hardly any friction to stop him from gliding in and filling me up so perfectly that the both of us suspired from the feeling. After a few short thrusts to establish a rhythm, Axel leaned over, worked his long fingers through my hair and pulled my head up so he could whisper in my ear, "you have no idea how much I'm going to miss this pussy." What I wanted to say was somewhere along the lines of please don't leave me and take me with you but I knew I couldn't say either of those things to him so instead I started pushing my hips back, taking him in as deep as possible. "Oh, yeah," he groaned. "fuck me. Bounce on my fucking cock." He erupted with pleasured laughs and gentle hisses, slapping my ass, gripping my hips and guiding me back onto him. When I looked over my shoulder at him he melted, ran his hands up and down my back and made it known how much enjoyment he was getting out of fucking me. I never wanted the night to end. Not when he was looking at me like he had never had sex so good in his life. He treated it like a delicacy, making sure to reach beneath me to toy with my clit as he let out whimpers of pure ecstasy. Axel had this terrible way of making me feel special and worthless at the same time. He had told me that he hadn't felt the need to sleep with anyone in months yet when I tried to kiss him he was standoffish and borderline rude about it. I couldn't tell if the man had feelings for me or not but I did know one thing and that was that when I watched him watching me, I could feel my heart get heavy in my chest. Our goodbye fuck ended in the shower with my leg propped up on the faucet and his cock buried deep inside of me from behind. I could tell he was close but before he released he leaned in close to me, kissed my cheek and asked, "can I come inside you?" "Yes, Daddy. Fill me up with your cum." "Yeah?" He confirmed. "You want me to?" I nodded eagerly and watched as his eyes rolled and he gave me a few more pumps. The water from the shower head sprayed down over us and I lifted my face to it as his hand came up around my neck to squeeze it lightly. "Oh fuck baby... I'm gonna come. Nothing feels as good as your pussy does. Fuck yes. Oh, God." "Do it, Daddy. Come inside me." A shiver rolled through Axel's entire body and he bit down on my shoulder to stifle the moan tearing from his throat. I felt the way his cock throbbed inside of me, spilling everything he had to offer all at once. When he pulled out of me he turned me around and got on his knees, slinging my leg over his shoulder and bringing two fingers up to rub over my clit. His big eyes stared at me as he leaned in closer and gave me a gentle kiss, letting his tongue loll out to drag up my folds even though his cum was beginning to leak out of me. "Stop... Axel, you don't have to." "I want to make you come too. I can do it." With my back against the cold tiles, I looked down at him with his face buried between my legs and thought that it could have been the most erotic thing I had ever witnessed in my life. I knew what it meant for him to use his tongue to lick me and his lips to suck on me and I tried my hardest not to take too long. He made it easy though with how he moaned against me, sending tremors through me with his voice. He inserted his middle finger inside of me too and as soon as he began working it in and out of me I knew I was done for. "Come for me. Come on baby, right now. Come all the fuck over me," He whispered between slow licks and gentle, undulating sucking. It was easy to let go with his voice telling me to do so and when I did I felt my whole body shudder and my knees get weak. Once I reached that beautiful moment of total physical bliss he stood up and made sure to keep circling my clit with his fingers until I couldn't take any more of his stimulation. Axel grabbed my face and kissed me hard and when he pulled back I was in such a cloud of euphoria that I almost couldn't open my eyes. "See, I knew you could kiss me," I said, voice shaky. "I know. It's just... Fuck it. It doesn't matter now." "Why?" "It just doesn't matter." We finished up in the shower, taking our time to wash each other and once in a while Axel would pause and kiss me slowly, relishing each time our tongues brushed. For somebody who didn't like kissing he sure did act like it was the best thing in the world because every time our lips touched he sighed or moaned or purred with delight. I didn't understand it but I didn't care because it felt so good to have him so close. His lips were so lush and the taste of him was so sweet. I couldn't believe the paradox that he was. After drying off and putting our underwear back on, we climbed into bed and got close enough to taste each other's breath. "I'm going to miss you," I whispered to him in the dark. "Nah. You won't." "Yes, I will." "I know." "Are you going to miss me?" I inquired. "Definitely." I couldn't be sure if it was really me or if it was the remnants of my intoxication but I could feel the heat of sadness building up behind my eyes like stormy rain clouds, threatening to spill tears. It was so silly and I felt like a prepubescent girl by the way my emotions were playing with me. I hadn't known Axel for more than a couple of days and the fact that he was leaving was striking me hard with dread. It didn't take long before he was passed out and gently snoring. My thoughts were racing because I wanted to wake him up. I wanted to beg him to stay with me. I had never felt so strongly for anybody before and I hated myself because of it. Then I thought maybe for just one moment I could understand my mother's motives for just taking off all those years ago. Shaking my head, I pushed that thought back into the little black box of tragic memories I kept stowed away in the forbidden closet of my mind. I was stupid for thinking it and I was stupider for falling for Axel. Alas, no matter how hard I berated myself for allowing a man like him to infiltrate my walls, I knew it wasn't all my fault. The uncouth, lewd, acid-green and oil-stained biker beside me in my bed had gouged himself a nice little spot in my heart by way of effortless charm and sugary words. My emotions were flying and I couldn't get to sleep. There were so many thoughts floating around in my brain, nagging at me to stand up and do something. They told me not to let him leave. They cried at me to go with him. I knew it was craziness to even entertain the idea of doing so but an hour passed and I was still wide awake, fretting. Slowly and as quietly as I possibly could, I slid out of bed, padded across the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. I took a glass from the cupboard and poured myself some water to drink and as I drained the cup, I looked through the cupboards to find something to snack on that would hopefully aid in sobering me up a little. There wasn't much there that I could readily eat but when I opened the cupboard containing all of the baking supplies like flour, baking soda, and sugar my mind really started to kick and scream.

~*~

The next morning was a surreal collection of the best and worst goodbyes. Each and every one of the Sweet Demons approached me and my dad to thank us profusely before setting off, starting with Max Sweet. The blond-haired, blue-eyed man came up to us and hugged us both at the same time, earning simultaneous grunts of sarcastic disgust. "Al... Angel... Thanks a million. You guys are the greatest. Thanks for letting us rip up your property. I really do appreciate all the hospitality as usual." "No problem kid. Pour one out for your father whenever you have the chance. He would be proud to see you like this." "Thanks, Al," Max extended his arm for their farewell shake. Bradley and Jimmy both went on and on about how grateful they were that we had allowed them to stay the weekend as though they had never spent a Thirteenth with us before. Dad told them both to shove it. They too clapped my dad on the back and kissed the back of my palm. Braun came out from the garage just as Janet came to shake our hands. The rest of them had already packed their things into their leather saddlebags and were nearly ready to head off. "It was nice seeing you guys," said Braun, giving a salute and receiving several in return. The last person to say goodbye was Axel and I felt my chest practically cave in as he approached us, looking slightly sullen but still excited to get back on his bike for a long ride. He had on the leather vest with the word Zeitgeist embroidered onto it and I grimaced. "Thanks a lot for having us, Al. It's been a slice," Axel said, shaking my dad's hand firmly. "Looks like it's been a slice and a half for you," dad said, looking at me and then back at Axel who couldn't help the smile that cracked over his lips. "It was great to meet you, sir. You are a true fucking legend on and off the road." "You think I don't know that already? Now get outta here, kid. Next time you come back you better not be the recruit." Axel laughed nervously, "I hope not." Once they let go of each other's forearms my dad raised his hand to the rest of them. He then turned to Braun and grunted, "fuck, I need a beer already." Then it came time for Axel to say goodbye to me and I wasn't sure how to start it without sounding too soft. All of their goodbyes had been so hearty and casual but once he drew near I could feel many pairs of eyes on us. He didn't seem to care though and tipped my face up to look straight at him. An eruption of hoots and hollers sounded from all of the Sweet Demons and Axel flipped them the finger without glancing back at them. He whispered so nobody else could hear him but me. "I'm coming back for that pussy, okay? Every Thirteenth." "No you won't," I said under my breath. "You're going to find somebody else." "Believe me or not, I don't care." "I don't." "Good girl. Take good care of your dad for us." "Okay." "M'gonna miss you, Angel." "I know," I simpered. Axel took my hand and rose it to his lips. He gave me a kiss and winked before backing away, eyes glued to me before he turned on the balls of his green boots. I watched with my heart pounding hard in my chest as he walked down the driveway between the rows of bikes and swung one long leg over the seat of the Widow Maker after kicking up the stand. A sinfonietta of roaring engines flared and I watched it all with terror and regret. The morning sun glinted off of chrome and helmets but something was amiss. Most of them were ready to be off but Axel was staring down at the ignition in confusion. He looked up and I could see the panic in his eyes from the end of the driveway. "Hey!" He yelled over the bombastical growls of engines. "What the fuck! Max!" Nobody on their bikes could hear Axel but when Max looked over to see why he hadn't started moving yet it became obvious that something was wrong. Max took off his sunglasses and nodded towards Axel inquisitively. "My fucking engine! Fuck!" Axel yelled, tearing off his helmet and throwing it on the ground with a loud crack. Max signaled to everybody else to cut their engines and once they did Axel's cries of anger could be heard down the block. "What's going on?" Braun asked me and I simply shrugged. "Somethings seriously fucking wrong here!" Axel yelled. The lack of procession drew my dad back out of the garage, asking what the hold up was. "Looks like somethings wrong with Axel's bike," Braun said to him. "Woah! Hold on, what's the problem?" Dad asked as he went down the driveway as fast as his limp would allow him. "Fuck!" Axel yelled, punching the fuel tank and kicking the green crash bar on the back. "Hey! Hey! Don't fucking treat her that way man, relax!" Max admonished as he approached the scene. Axel yelled and circled the bike, checking everything that he possibly could before trying the ignition again. The engine gave a weak, whiny cry and sputtered out. I felt the blood in my veins turn white hot as his anger level rose and he began looking around. When I thought his eyes landed on me I nearly choked on my own tongue but I soon realized he was looking past me. "You!" Axel yelled, pointing his ringed finger. I whipped around and saw Braun behind me going paper white, eyes bugging out of his head as Axel approached. "You motherfucker! What the fuck did you do to my bike?" "What? Nothing! I didn't touch your fucking bike!" Braun yelled but he had no time to explain himself before Axel was at his throat. "You thrashed my fucking bike, didn't you! You gawky little piece of shit!" Axel screamed. Braun tried to rip Axel's hand from his throat but only managed to claw at it until Axel pushed him back. "Why the fuck would I touch your bike!?" "Why!? Oh, I don't know, maybe because you've been a cocky little shit since the moment I got here, that's why!" "Get fucked, buddy! I have no reason to sabotage your fucking bike. I want you the fuck out of here! Why the fuck would I touch it? Not my fault you rode in on a heaping pile of fucking garbage." Braun instantly regretted what he said once Axel wound back and punched him in the face. He staggered and clutched at his cheek for only a moment before launching towards Axel, blood running down from a deep cut made my one of Axel's rings. "Stop!" I yelled but by the time I could force the word from my mouth, Max was already trying to pull Axel away from Braun. "Axe! Stop!" Max bellowed. They were going at each other like a pair of angry, starved dogs. Bradley jumped off his bike and intervened as well, yelling at Braun to back away. The whole scene was writhing and suddenly Axel began to choke and gag, his cheeks inflating as he coughed. He dropped to his knees with his hands planted on the cement and lurched almost as though he were trying to cough up a hairball. "Get back! Everybody... Get the fuck back!" Max cried out. Braun staggered a few steps back, still holding his hand over his cheek where Axel had landed a devastating hit. Blood was dripping down his neck and was soon soaking into the collar of his white tank top. "Angel, get back," dad hooked his arm around my chest and pulled me away from Axel who was trying not to vomit on the ground. "Motherfucker! I'll kill you!" Braun yelled but when Max squared up and glared him down, he went quiet. Everybody surrounded Axel as he heaved violently. Black tar spilled from his mouth onto the driveway like engine oil but with a worse smell that stung my nostrils. I couldn't look away, especially when steam started to rise up in clouds from the dark puddle of bile. I gasped when the puddle started to bubble and fizz. "What the fuck?" Braun said lowly. "Get the fuck out of here Braun, now!" Dad yelled at Braun. "Go get that shit cleaned up. You too, Angel. Go in the house." "No!" I exclaimed. "Axel! Are you okay? What's going on?" He turned his head and looked up at me with sweat beading on his forehead, murky liquid dripping from the corners of his mouth and his eyes glowering like two pools of lava. "Listen to your dad and get the fuck away from me."