#never pause the boys during tense moments | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theemporium · 10 months

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Idk if you take requests like this. But I'd love, if you write that is, Marauders era character' reaction when the reader flashes at them during an argument (there was a tiktok treand going on)

Idk which all marauders you write to, so feel comfortable to write the only ones you write for. Also can you make it a fem!reader prety please? Thankyou so much!

thank you for requesting!🖤i just did this with the three main boys, enjoy!

Sirius:

“He was all over you!”

“He’s a friend!”

“And he wants to shag you!”

“I don’t care, you’re the only one I want to shag!”

The argument had been going on for the better part of the last hour. Sirius had always been a dramatic person and you knew that. A part of you truly adored it because his theatrical flare was entertaining, nine times out of ten.

But right now? It made you want to put your head through a wall.

“Sirius, you need to drop this,” you huffed out, hands on your hips as you watched the boy pace around the room. “I don’t care about him like that, why does it matter if he does—which he doesn’t, by the way.”

“Because!” Sirius exclaimed with no other explanation.

“For fucks sake,” you grumbled, shaking your head as the boy only rolled his eyes.

“You don’t even care that this is upsetting me!” he accused, his tie askew and more buttons of his shirt undone than they had been this morning. “You don’t care that he’s trying to shag you and that it upsets me. Merlin, maybe you even like the attention because he’s a pretty bloke with pretty eyes and pretty hair and—”

Sirius was rambling. And when he rambled, he really fucking rambled and you were not in the mood to deal with it right now—especially with something so stupid.

Without a second thought, your fingers gripped the hem of your shirt and quickly pulled it up to your chin, watching the boy slowly come to a halt as his eyes dropped to your chest.

“Oh,” he murmured helplessly.

“Good. Now that you’ve shut up, you can listen to me,” you said, letting your shirt fall down as you reached for him.

But Sirius whined, tugging the edge of your shirt back up. “Baby, no, don’t cover them up now.”

Remus:

Remus Lupin was a stubborn bastard when it came to giving the silent treatment.

It was irritable at the best of times. Majority of the time, it would be a silly little thing he would do when you got into petty arguments, and it wouldn’t last anything longer than five minutes before he was pulling you towards him and keeping you close. But sometimes—on the off chance you’ve had a really bad argument—it could go on for days.

This time seemed to fall with the latter.

It had been a tense week. Between raging hormones and upcoming full moons, the added stress of exams and assignments and marauder shenanigans hadn’t worked in your favour. You and Remus had been snappier than usual at each other and it led to one big blow out that resulted in neither of you talking to each other for the last three days.

But now, you were tired and done with arguing and you just wanted your boyfriend. However, Remus didn’t seem eager to talk it out.

“Really? We are still doing this?” you questioned as you stood at the foot of his bed, watching as he lazily turned the page of his book as though you hadn’t been in the room for the last fifteen minutes. “You’re being childish, Remus.”

And yet, the boy still didn’t reply.

Your boyfriend was as stubborn as he was gorgeous, and you had never hated it more than you did in that moment.

But everyone had their weaknesses and you just so happened to know your boyfriend’s very well.

“If that’s the way you wanna play it,” you grumbled as you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and chucking the material at Remus without a second thought.

He paused mid-page flip, glancing down at the material before his eyes slowly lifted to look at you, clad in only your skirt and bra now. His eyes darkened, a flurry of emotions passing through that you recognised well enough.

“Shit,” he muttered, halfheartedly throwing his book on his bedside table.

“Now you’re talking to me?” you teased as you watched him crawl to the end of the bed, reaching out for you eagerly.

“We can talk later,” Remus grumbled as his fingers glided up your back towards the clasp of your bra. “Got more important stuff to do right now.”

James:

It wasn’t fair.

You were good at arguing. Merlin, you were one of the best people when it came down to it. You loved a good argument. You loved winning an argument. And there was nothing better in knowing you were one hundred percent, without a single fucking doubt right.

But your boyfriend was making it really difficult to argue when he was prancing around the room half-naked.

You could barely even remember what the argument was about anymore. All you knew was that James had already been pissy after losing a quidditch match and he kept being short with you, and the next thing you knew, you were bickering back and forth in his dorm room. Then he pulled his quidditch jersey over his head, leaving his thick arms and broad shoulders and glistening chest on display, and every single coherent thought left your head.

“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”

You blinked, your surroundings returning to you as you stared at the pouting boy a few feet away from you. His hands were resting on his hips, his lips turned down in a somewhat frown and his messy curls covering his furrowed eyebrows. He was still pissed and now you were pissed at him for distracting you.

It wasn’t fair so you decided to even the playing field.

Without a moment of hesitance, you pulled your jumper over your head and let it thump onto the ground. You stood there, showing as much skin as he was, and watched as his eyes widened comically as he stared at your tits in the red bra you were wearing.

“I—” he paused, gulping a little. “What are you doing?”

“Making this argument fair,” you stated simply as though you weren’t resisting the urge to reach out and watch his abs softly clench under your touch. “Now are you gonna tell me why you’re in such a shitty mood or do I have to keep pretending I know why you’re being like this?”

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incognit0slut · 1 year

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (4)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part summary: Y/n and Spencer's unexpected reunion ends in a quarrel. wc: 4k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, blood, graphic details of murder

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER CONSIDERED HIMSELF AS A GOOD PROFILER. His background in psychology was a strong contribution to becoming the expert that he was now. He also believed he had a very strong sense of detail in his work, especially when it came to assessing body language. It took a lot of careful observation and attention to interpret it correctly, and with all the experiences he went through this past decade, it came to him naturally.

But to observe meant to be focused and right now he was anything but that.

"Ms. L/n, this is Dr. Spencer Reid."

How could he focus when he couldn’t believe what he was seeing? Spencer had always been fascinated by the concept of the afterlife, the mystery and unknown of what went beyond death. Granted, he had never encountered anything superstitious, but maybe this was as close as he could get to ever experiencing that because right now it felt as if he was seeing a ghost.

The idea of meeting the stranger he tried to forget never crossed his mind, especially in a situation he least expected. While he wouldn't completely deny the possibility of coincidence, he tended to be more skeptical and cautious about things that push the bounds of rationality and reason. But now that she was right here in the flesh, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

She had the kind of face that made you stop to look, the sudden pause in a person's natural mind when they glanced her way. Delicate face, high cheekbones, full luscious lips. But beyond the appeal of her beauty, there was deep exhaustion in her eyes. Her shoulders were tense. Her cheeks were flushed. Her chest rose in rapid movements as the pace of her breathing increased.

There was a sense of agitation in her posture, a clear sign of anxiousness. He could decipher that all too well because it was exactly what he was experiencing now. A storm of panic suddenly rose inside him, a sense of overwhelming dread and anxiety taking over his body and mind, leaving him feeling as if he was trapped in a fight-or-flight mode.

Y/n opened her mouth, closed it again, then tilted her head. His eyes scanned the crease on her forehead as if she was deep in thought before she threw Morgan a hesitant look.

His panic intensified.

"Well, actually—"

"Nice to meet you!"

Both of their heads snapped at him. He couldn't blame the way they were gawking, because between the panic and the shock still lingering in his system, his vocal cords managed to change his voice into a higher pitch. He cleared his throat and smoothed down the suit he was wearing, calmed his breathing, and carefully lifted his other hand.

He gave her a wave.

"It's nice to meet you."

He saw her looking at him warily before she calmed herself, crossing her arms against her chest in an act of defense. She eyed his hand as it settled back to his side.

"Let me guess," she started, quirking an eyebrow. "The number of pathogens shared during a handshake is staggering?"

There was a heavy pause as they both held their gaze. Morgan glanced between the two. "Do you know each other?"

The air suddenly charged with tension, a thick weight that settled in her chest before she looked away. "I suppose not." She walked towards the door, pushing it ajar. "After you, boys."

Morgan threw her a skeptical look before stepping into the room. The moment Spencer stepped forward, her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. An overwhelming sense of anxiety, coupled with a feeling of wanting to hide took over him as he shuffled past her, looking straight ahead.

The two agents sat by the table. She watched as Morgan observed her with an immense amount of curiosity while the man sitting beside him finally had the courage to look at her. The moment he lifted his eyes and settled them on her own, she couldn't help but notice a slight shift in his demeanor. It was as if in the midst of trying to calm his nerves, a switch suddenly clicked inside him, showcasing a very focused and intent look that commanded attention and respect.

She took the seat right in front of him.

Morgan's eyes swept over to her. "Ms. L/n—"

"Y/n is fine."

"Y/n," Morgan started again. "Can you tell us what happened?"

She gave Spencer one last look before focusing her attention on the other man. "I don't understand why I have to repeat this process again."

"People's recollections and perceptions of things can often change over time. It also helps us better to understand the situation," he explained. "What happened before you found Mr. Lynch?"

"Technically, Eric was the one who found him." She placed her hands on the table, intertwining them as she recalled what had happened a few hours ago for the second time. "Jamison called me before everything happened. It was a short, desperate call and it ended too quickly after he asked for help. I ran back to his office after that."

"What exactly did you hear on that call?"

"Heavy breathing. He sounded..." She trailed off, a look of forlorn set in her eyes. "He sounded as if he was in pain. There was also a loud crash in the back."

"Was there any other voice besides him?"

"I didn't hear anyone else."

"And you're the only one he called?"

"I'm not sure," she answered truthfully, shrugging her shoulders. "He might've called Eric as well."

The two men shared a look. She waited for either of them to respond and was taken aback when Spencer regarded her the next question. "What were you doing prior to the call?"

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Something about the way he was watching her vexed her. One moment he was scurrying off trying to diminish any relation he had with her, the next thing she knew he was addressing her with a keen interest, and not in the way he had on that eventful night. There was wonder and excitement on their first encounter, but all she could notice now was the intensity of him assessing her as if he was trying to analyze her.

She wondered whether he had two different personalities.

"Ms. L/n?"

She steadied her gaze before correcting him, "Y/n."

Then she tried to think back on what happened before the rush of panic took over her body. She remembered recalling her conversation with Oliver and how declining his obvious interest was the right thing to do. And then somehow her mind manage to reminisce about the last man she was involved with, who ironically, was sitting right in front of her.

So basically, I was thinking of you.

"I was walking to my car in the parking lot," she finally said.

"Did you see anything suspicious before you got the call? Or when you ran back to his office?"

"Not that I was aware of—" There was a moment of sudden clarity. It was like a rush of insight and understanding, and everything clicked into focus like a puzzle or a riddle. The sudden realization made her heart race with disbelief and fear at the same time, and her mind started to race with all the possibilities and connections it had discovered. "Someone did push me in the parking lot."

Morgan frowned at her. "Push you?"

"Somebody accidentally brushed me and I lost my balance," she explained, her brows knitting in concentration as she tried to recall that exact memory. "He was tall and... fit? He wore everything black and when I called out on his lack of manner, he ran away."

"Did you see his face?"

She shook her head. "It was pretty much covered with his clothes. He was wearing a hoodie, I think."

"Was there any other thing that stood out from him?"

"No, I don't remember anything significant. After that Jamison called, then everything happened so fast." She gave them a resigned look. "I'm not even sure if it has anything to do with what happened."

Morgan gave her a reassuring smile. "It's fine. Any information might help us with this investigation."

She nodded, and before they could ask further questions, she inquired about a curiosity of her own. "May I ask why the FBI is investigating this case?"

There was a feeling of great importance and a weight of significance as Spencer clarified, "We suspect Mr. Lynch's murder is linked to another case that happened not long ago."

She blinked her eyes in bewilderment. "You're telling me there's a possible serial killer behind these two murders?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his words seeming very heavy. "The nature of these deaths are very similar, we think that the Unsub has a motive behind all the killings."

"Unsub?"

"It's an abbreviation for Unknown Subject, and it's mainly just a code word that represents the suspect."

She nodded once again, then eyed both of the agents sitting across from her.

"Is the death of my boss linked to Kevin Marshall?" When the two men narrowed their eyes suspiciously, she stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "I'm a journalist, I was working on that case—well, before it got assigned to someone else."

"What do you know of Mr. Marshall's case?" Morgan asked cautiously.

"Nothing much, really. I simply knew he was found dead with some kind of writing on his body." She looked away. "I saw a glimpse of something written on Jamison's arm, it's not that hard to put two and two together."

Morgan regarded her with a nod. "We do suspect these deaths are done by the same Unsub."

Spencer then gave her a look, one that clearly indicated his opinion of her. "And we highly appreciate it if you could keep this information confidential," he requested. "We don't want the media to compromise our investigation until we have further information."

She frowned at the charge behind his words. "You think I'm going to write a story about what happened?"

"Isn’t that what you do for a living?"

It took a lot of self-control for her not to throw the pen sitting in front of her across the room.

"With all due respect, Dr. Reid, I find it offending that you think I would write a story on the murder of someone I personally know."

"I—Ms. L/n, I wasn't trying to accuse you of being inconsiderate."

"Well it seemed exactly like that to me."

The silence after that was deafening. It was a sort of heavy, oppressive stillness that hung in the air that it was so brittle it could practically snap, and if it didn't, one of them might. It was terribly uncomfortable that Morgan could feel the tension building as the seconds dragged by without a sound. "Are you sure you don't know each other?"

"Yes."

Doubt was written across his face. There was a sense of discomfort that came along with the uneasiness from the escalating tension as he glanced between the other two people in the room. He gladly let out a sigh when his discomfort was saved by the sudden call coming from his phone.

"Saved by the bell," he muttered under his breath, which didn't go unnoticed by the two people who were now glaring at him. He simply stood up from his chair and moved toward the door, pulling it open before answering his call with a firm yet flirtatious voice. "Talk to me, baby girl."

She wrinkled her nose at the pet name as the door closed behind him. "Was that his girlfriend?"

"No," Spencer responded. "That's the technical analyst in our team. They have a unique way of addressing each other."

The sound of his gruff voice suddenly pierced her, and it was then that she realized she was left alone with the man she never thought of ever seeing again. Her attention went back to him as her eyes slowly wandered across his face, noticing the way he was observing her.

One of the things that had always caught her interest was his disheveled hair. It was untamed, the mass of wild, chocolate-colored curls brushing against the collar of his shirt was something that often caught her attention. Then there was his attire, wearing a nice fitting dark suit over an even darker button-down and a tie wrapped around his slender neck made him look very professional.

But it was his eyes that stood out the most.

There was something in his gaze that seemed to unnerve her tonight. The warm, hazel orbs that greeted her in the dim light of the bar seemed darker now with a certain intensity engraved in their depth. The man in front of her was different from the man she had left that night. The man who sat alone at the bar didn't have the same air of authority he had at this moment. Spencer Reid after hours was adorable, awkwardly charming, and very much easy to approach.

Dr. Spencer Reid, on the other hand, still managed to keep his calm while being very serious, even after his flustered episode from their unexpected encounter. The soft stubble on his jaw also helped the somber look he was going after, which if she was being completely honest, made him look even more handsome than he already was.

It was a good thing he couldn't read her mind.

"So," she started, crossing a leg on top of the other. "FBI agent, huh?"

He addressed her with a nod. "A profiler, to be exact."

"And what does a profiler do?"

He looked surprised by her interest but managed to explain the nature of his job. "We study and analyze crimes and criminals through an analysis of their behavior to understand the reasoning and motive behind them."

She hummed in response. "You know, I thought you were a medical doctor." Confusion passed across his face before she continued, "You have a lot of certificates."

"...so you do know my name."

"It's hard not to when it's plastered everywhere on your wall."

He paused for a moment, assessing the weight behind her words. "Then why did you call me by the wrong name that night?"

She went completely still. She knew the best way to avoid a question was to throw in another one, so she uncrossed her arms and leaned over the table.

"Why did you pretend like we didn't know each other?"

His body tensed as he felt the discomfort crawling on his skin. The overwhelming feeling of uneasiness and tension wrapped inside him was so intense it was smothering him.

"It is true though," he defended. "We don't know each other very well."

She couldn't stop the scoff slipping out of her mouth. "Ah, yes. I may not know the city you grew up in but I do know what position you like in bed."

"How could you even conclude that?" He choked, clearly dumbfounded by the crude and unexpected comment. "We've only been together once."

"In which you put me on your lap the whole time."

She knew there was a truth in her notion by the way his cheeks slightly flared in embarrassment. He simply cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen, I think it's best we keep what happened that night between us."

"And why is that?"

He finally tore his eyes off her.

How could he explain that something in this occurrence never happened to him without feeling self-conscious? That she was the first person he was sexually involved with no relation whatsoever? That sleeping with a stranger never happened to him in his thirty-five years of life?

And how could he explain he preferred not to share one of the most unforgettable nights of his life with his colleagues? How could he explain he wanted to keep his personal life private without offending her?

But before he could explain himself, she was already jumping to conclusions at his lack of an answer.

"Is it because you're ashamed that a smart, hot-shot FBI agent like you spent a night with a mere journalist like me?"

His eyes went wide. "What? No—"

"Are we done here?" She quickly cut in, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the weight of his gaze. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Of course, I do—"

"Regarding my witness."

"I..." He frowned, then shook his head. "No, I suppose I don't."

"Great. It was nice talking to you, Dr. Reid."

The bottom of her chair scraped against the hardwood floor as she got up, staggering toward the door. One might say she needed to work on her pettiness, but she had always been stubborn when it came to feeling unreasonable. So before she could leave, she turned on her heel, pointed a finger at him, and narrowed her eyes before she sneered, "And just so you know, do not flatter yourself. You weren't even that good in bed."

She threw him one last glare before stalking toward the door, tugging it with utmost force only to find Morgan standing in the way. "Agent Morgan." A rush of heat coursed through her body. "I believe I can go now?"

He looked between the two of them with curiosity. "Yes, of course. Thank you for your time, Ms. L/n." The menacing look in her eyes beneath her embarrassment urged him to correct himself, "Y/n."

She then left the two men behind with the last thread of dignity she had. It didn't take a trained profiler to understand she left the room fuming with anger.

Spencer watched her leave. A sudden overwhelming sense of shock and disbelief flew through him, leaving him in a state of surprise and confusion. He was so stunned he didn't know how to respond while the woman he wanted nothing more than to follow behind had practically tarnished his self-esteem and bruised his ego.

And to make things worst, his teammate was watching him with intense interest, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned against the door frame.

He expected a lot of things to happen tonight, but he did not expect it would end the way it did. Suddenly feeling drained, he slowly got up in a daze. It felt as if he had recently gone through the most amount of emotions he had ever experienced in just one night.

The only way he could forget what had happened—albeit momentarily—was to put his mind on other matters. Like the current case at hand. Like the crime scene a few rooms away. He needed to focus on more important things and he couldn't do that with his friend constantly finding amusement in his misery.

"There are a lot of questions in my head right now, pretty boy."

He stalked toward the door with a newfound resentment. "Good, keep them to yourself."

Morgan's laughter followed him out of the room.

>> NEXT PART

taglist

@comboboo @sebastiansstanswhore

a/n: i am today’s years old on finding out that having a taglist is a thing😭 tell me if you want to be added please i am such an amateur on this app.

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liyawritesss · 3 months

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ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ５－ＳｅｃｒｅｔＡｄｍｉｒｅｒ

－ Shot Clock - 42!Miles Morales - Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse

－ In which the secret admirer who's been leaving notes in your locker turns out to be someone you least expect.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

“So you’re meeting them now?” Your friend gasps in surprise as your little trio walks down the halls of Visions Academy, classes having ended for the day and students being left to their own devices for the weekend. “Aren’t you nervous?”

“I mean, yeah,” you respond, grasping onto the latest handwritten notecard in your hand, “who wouldn’t be nervous meeting their secret admirer that’s been leaving love notes in their locker for two weeks right before Valentines Day?”

Your locker had been plagued with little sticky notes and index cards, written eloquently with sweet words and timid confessions since the beginning of February. At first you were surprised - you didn’t think you were worth this kind of affection from anyone, especially not someone at Visions. Slowly, you grew to expect the little written notes every morning when you went to your locker to grab your belongings for the days classes, and rereading them during the weekend when you were with your parents, gushing over the poetic words and wondering who your secret admirer could be.

“They said to meet up on the roof? Isn’t it off-limits?” Your secondary friend chimed in.

“The aerodynamics club meets up there every Friday, so it should be free,” you inform the pair, pursing your lips together tightly in anticipation. There was no going back now, “wish me luck.”

As they three of you went off your separate ways, you found yourself crawling up the steps to the school’s rooftop, mulling over images of possible candidates in your head. By the time you reached the top of the stairs, hand on the door knob twisting it open, your mental list had been scratched off completely. Only fate knew what it had in store for you behind the metal door.

Late evening sun welcomed you as you walked onto the rooftop, the distant voices of the aforementioned Aerodynamics Club could be heard somewhere off in a far corner. With the notecard in your hand still, you took a deep breath, approaching the hooded figure you believed to be the secret admirer.

“Hey,” you began, voice soft but still firm enough to grasp the others attention, “I think I’m here to meet you…-”

The figure turns around, and it’s someone you never considered a possibility on your secret admirer roster - not because he wasn’t a qualifying candidate, but because he was too much of one.

“-...Miles?”

He pauses for a moment upon hearing his name, before turning to face you completely. He rids his head of his hood, revealing himself to you fully. His hand runs smooth down his hair, pushing his headphones to rest around his neck as well. If you didn’t know any better, you’d thought that he was nervous.

“Yeah,” he replies, and your suspicion is confirmed - he is nervous, anxious, timid, even, “yeah, it’s me.”

A moment passes, and it seems to make the boy more anxious, “so…what?” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, “...why you look like that?”

“No, sorry-” you quickly cover your shocked expression, “I just…” Your eyes take a moment to scan over him. His body is rigid, tight and tense, expecting a rejection, you think, “you never struck me as the poetic type.”

A light, shaky laugh leaves his lips, and the air between the two of you softens into something easier. His hand goes to scratch his neck sheepishly, “I’ll take that over a rejection, I guess.”

“For someone who’s a science whiz,” you begin, a smile creeping at your lips just from being in his presence, “you’ve got a way with words.”

Even though Miles Morales, the kid who sits by the window with his headphones in and a nonchalant look to him all the time, was the last guy on your list of secret admirer candidates, you don’t regret it being him. A nest of butterflies begins to flutter in your stomach the longer you stand with each other on the school's rooftop. The note is still scrunched up in your hands, and even though you’re sure you’ve ruined it, there’s a feeling in your chest that tells you that this may not be the end of the silly little notes in your locker.

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agentmarcuspike · 3 months

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marcus pike x gn!reader

– written for PMAMC24

summary: marcus asks you for something he's wanted for some time... cws: pegging, use of a strap-on, reader doesn't have a penis, anal fingering, rimming, showering together, established romantic relationship (2+ years), lots of lube, wet wet wet (not the group), sweet sappy romance, cum play (?), coming untouched, pet names (baby, darling, good boy), begging a lil bit word count: 2.2k

“Do you love me?”

You’re on the couch with your legs resting in Marcus’ lap when he asks you. He’s been rubbing your feet absentmindedly for a while, his thighs unusually tense under your calves, and the question seems to come out of nowhere. It’s not like him at all to doubt your feelings for him, so you sit up to look at him when you answer.

“Of course, baby!” Your hand rests on his shoulder, and you squeeze it lightly. He squeezes your foot back, but his eyes still examine the carpet. “Why?”

A heavy sigh escapes him when he finally looks at you, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. The warmth from his face almost reaches yours.

“Even if I asked you something weird?”

“Yes, Marcus, I’d still love you if you were a worm,” you jokingly comfort him.

He laughs. “Good to know,” he says, no longer avoiding your eyes.

A few more seconds pass before he speaks again.

“A different kind of weird this time. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately… Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dissatisfied with our sex life or anything!” You raise your brows. So that’s what this is about. “There’s just something I’d like to try. If you’re up for it.”

You agree of course, there’s nothing to complain about when it comes to your intimate moments. It has never, during your two years together, gotten boring, monotonous, or uninteresting. You’ve tried out a few things, some kinks you’ve been curious about. A little bit of this and that. But you can’t imagine what Marcus would be so embarrassed to ask you for.

“Sometimes when we’re fucking…” he begins. Just hearing him say the word excites you. “I get a little jealous of you,” he admits after a pause.

You take a second to let it sink in. “Jealous?! Of me…?” Brows knit tight, you search his face for information. “While we’re fucking…?”

Marcus throws his head back on the couch with a groan and grabs your legs, shaking them a little in frustration. “I thought this was a safe space!”

You lean forward then, grabbing his face with both hands, kissing him on the lips. “It is! I’m sorry, it is! I just don’t understand!” you share with a laugh. Pulling away, you make sure he looks at you before you continue patiently, “Tell me more, please.”

“Well… I think it’s that, sometimes I wish I could have you inside of me the same way I’m inside of you. Don’t get me wrong, I love being inside of you,”

“Mm, I love that too,” you tease.

“But I guess I wanna… I want to feel you. Inside of me. Everywhere, really, there’s nowhere I don’t want you, but…” He drifts off.

“Marcus…” you begin. “Do you want me to peg you?”

“It sounds so unsexy when you say it like that.”

“Sorry. Marcus, do you want me to fill you up? Fuck you as good as you fuck me?”

“I do, I want that.”

A few days later you both feel prepared. Finding a strap-on together, picking the lube, reading up on how to prepare. It’s all made you more and more excited, and when the night you’ve chosen finally arrives, the tension between you is almost thicker than it was right before your first time together.

The evening starts off in the shower, where you help each other scrub down.

Marcus’ skin is warm and soft against yours when you lie down beside him in bed. You trace a drop of water on his chest that has yet to dry with your finger, from his clavicle and down to his belly button, where it makes a little pool. A shiver runs through Marcus at the caress. His hair is still damp as you run your hands through it. Slow kisses turn more desperate, and you grab at each other everywhere but the places that scream the loudest for attention.

When your hand eventually makes its way down to his groin he’s already hard and leaking precum. His breath hitches as you pump him lazily, a pained groan escaping him as his hips lift off the mattress to hurry your movements.

His eagerness to have you in him is electric. Goosebumps on his skin tickle yours, and you swallow every sound he makes, your open mouth hovering over his. Once his eagerness turns to desperation, you lean in to whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear: “Wanna take my time with you.”

Teasingly slow, not breaking eye contact, you make your way down the bed, and settle between his legs. You bend down, placing a kiss on his belly, nose brushing through his pubes as you move downwards. With careful hands, you slowly guide his thighs further apart until you have all of him open before you.

With the tip of your tongue, you shower his tight hole with little kitten licks, letting your tongue glide all the way up to his balls every now and then, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. Stroking, touching, caressing every inch of skin you can reach, Marcus writhes under your touch, pushing himself into your face, wanting you closer, closer still. His cock twitches above you, so you reach a hand up to touch him. His hand shoots down to wrap around yours, speeding up your movements.

“Slow, baby, slow,” you encourage. Your suggestion is only met with a whine.

“Are you so desperate for me to fill you up? Such a needy boy tonight?”

His voice is hoarse with anticipation when he whispers a helpless “yes”.

In no rush at all, you sit up to open the bottle of lube which lies ready on your nightstand. The transparent gel is cold on your fingers and you squeeze a generous amount onto your middle and index fingers before you turn back to Marcus. You press yourself into his side, chest flush with his bicep. Softly, slowly, your mouths find each other again, and your hand makes its way down.

“Spread more for me, honey,” you instruct into his mouth. His thighs fall apart, and your fingers find his opening. You paint tiny circles, spreading the cold lube, pressing in ever so slightly. Marcus jumps a little at the contact, but soon he’s putty in your hands, losing himself in the feeling of your fingers gliding into him, slowly but surely. The first two knuckles of your middle finger are fully sheathed in him when you add more lube, making the transition to two fingers easier.

The way he squeezes around your digits, warm and pulsing, is almost intoxicating, and you suddenly understand his jealousy. There’s no way for you to be closer to him than you are right now. He knows your insides, you know his. If you could, you’d open up his chest and crawl inside. Instead, you bury your face in his neck, enjoying the feeling of working him open, stretching him out. Little moans and gasps from him as you get deeper lets you know he likes it, and you curl your fingers upwards as you grind yourself against his thigh.

“Do you want more?” You ask, almost answering yourself. Yes.

“Yes,” he begs feebly. “Want you. Need you,” And he sounds so forlorn you can only oblige.

The floor is cold under your feet as you get up. You’ve prepared the harness on your dresser already, so all you have to do is strap it on. On the bed Marcus is stroking himself lazily, his eyes growing dark as he’s watching you tighten the belt around your waist and thighs.

“Oh, darling,” he breathes. You give him a playful twirl, making him giggle. It’s an incredible sight, your man spread out and ready for you on your bed, eyes full of lust and a smile on his lips. All desire is not yearning. This is something more. You catch yourself swallowing harshly to avoid tearing up at the scene. What kind of saint must you have been in your past life to deserve a man like Marcus in this one? You return his loving smile, silicone bouncing in your harness as you climb back onto the bed.

Settling between his legs, you once again grab the bottle of lube. You squirt some more on your fingers to spread over his hole, before aiming it down at the silicone. “Say when,” you say, unable to control yourself, as you cover it with the gel. Marcus rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, but he can’t hide the smirk playing on his face. He loves you. You know it.

His strong thighs bracket yours, and you let your thumb rub a few soft circles on the soft skin of his hip before you line yourself up.

“Are you ready for me?” You lean over him, placing a hand on each side of him, hovering over his torso as you push ever so slightly, but not enough to breach him. He only moans in response. Your arms bend and you lower yourself down on your elbows, trapping his desperate cock between you, your open mouth breathing into his.

“Do you want me inside of you?” He throbs against your stomach while he nods.

“Fuck, yes, I do.”

And with one long slow motion, you push inside of him.

For a second you think you can feel it, the silicone an extension of your body. His hot breath fills your mouth when he gasps, and you breathe it in, replacing the air in your lungs with him. He’s tight, clenching hard around the thick length you’ve buried in him, so you sit very still, letting him adjust.

His eyes are on yours, hands cupping your face with his thumb resting where your jawbone meets your ear. The furrow between his brows, the one that deepens when he concentrates, speaks for him.

“Is it too much?” you ask, furrowing your own.

“Almost,” he chokes, voice a restrained rasp.

Worried you’ve hurt him, you quickly ask “should I pull out?”, and you’re about to do it when his hands fly from your face to your ass.

“No.”

His big hands give your cheeks a light squeeze, and with a little pressure he keeps you in place.

“No,” he repeats, a whisper this time, a request, as he covers your lips with his own.

With slow shifts of your hips, you move in and out, pushing sweet noises out of him with every thrust. His hands glide across your skin, coming to rest over your forearms. The only moments he takes his eyes off you are when they roll to the back of his head and he groans in pleasure.

“That’s it,” you encourage. “Take it, baby. Take all of me.”

And he does. With every thrust, his breath grows shallower, and you can tell he’s getting close. Your stomachs are sticky with sweat and precome, joining the slick sounds from the lube in an obscene duet performed by your bodies. You bury your hands in his hair, gently pulling at it, making him mewl and whimper, as if he’s an instrument and only you can make him sing.

Marcus grinds against you, impatient, and you scan his face as you change your pace, trying to find the spot inside him that will send him over the edge. You know you’ve found it when his mouth opens in an O, sore lips pouting, and his brows shoot together, giving him an almost quizzical expression, like he can’t believe what’s happening.

“Oh shit, I’m–”

And before you can even sit back to take his cock in your hand, the space between your bodies is filled by his spend, thick ropes of cum running down the sides of his torso as you fuck him through his orgasm. You cup his face with one hand, nose brushing his.

“So good, baby. Give me all of it.”

He holds his breath with eyes squeezed shut, while his cock twitches a few more times, still trapped in the wet mess of sweat, cum, and lubrication between you. The silence is just as sticky as you watch Marcus catch his breath and fight to open his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers with a laugh. You giggle back, and kiss the tip of his nose. It’s cold, despite his flushed face and skin glistening with sweat.

“I’m gonna pull out now,” you warn him. A strained groan escapes him as you do, and you collapse on your back at his side, his strong arm around your shoulders. For a minute you just lie there with your eyes closed and breathe together, reveling in the hazy blissful moment.

With a sigh, Marcus buries his nose in your hair, squeezing your shoulder lightly with his hand.

“Thank you,” he says, softly. You turn to face him. His eyes are still glazed over, and he looks so content and satisfied you can’t bear the thought of dragging him out of bed to hit the shower again.

“Anytime,” you wink, as you roll out of bed. His hand flexes a few times, as if trying to hold you back, but he quickly gives up and lets you go. Through heavy eyelids he watches you cross the bedroom floor.

“Amazing,” he says absentmindedly, mostly to himself, eyeing the harness and the indents it has left on your skin as you shimmy out of it. You give him a warm smile before opening the door.

“I’ll get something to clean you up. Be right back.”

When you return with a warm washcloth, he’s fast asleep, stomach still painted with the two of you, and face still painted with contentment.

a/n: thanks to gin @wannab-urs for organizing this year's "Peg That Middle-Aged Man Campaign", and all the other writers for inspiring content! divider by @saradika-graphics and graphic by me.

#pmamc 2024 #peg that middle aged man campaign 2024 #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #my writing

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kentopedia · 1 year

Text

another year over

levi ackerman x f!reader wc: 2.6k

summary: levi hates his birthday; you just want him to know how loved he is.

contents: canon universe, levi's bday, fluff but also angst bc i always have to have it !!! all the scouts love levi !!

Your horse nearly tripped over its own hooves, caught in the mud that complimented the foreboding atmosphere. With a jolt, you flinched, preparing for the impact, but none came.

The animal remained upright, continuing along the trail as if nothing had happened.

You were grateful, in those few seconds, that no injury had come to either of you, but your pride was not so lucky.

Levi snorted from just a few feet in front of you. The sound was mocking and shameful; it was as if you’d been the one to stumble in the sinking soil, falling flat on your face.

“Keep that horse of yours in line,” Levi muttered over his shoulder, not even taking a moment to glance back. “No one’s going to come back for you if you fall behind.”

You exhaled, refraining from rolling your eyes as you refused a reply.

It had been a long mission with too many lost souls, and Levi wasn’t taking it well. Everyone was on edge. It was the end of the year, and it was another one full of the same results.

Levi's comments were becoming more unpleasant—not just the ones towards you, but to everyone.

Beside you, Eren was silent, his eyes full of ignored tears. You watched as his hands trembled with the reins, fighting to turn his elusive sadness into rage.

Though Eren had been on your squad for a while now, you always had trouble talking to the teenage boy. He was full of so much turmoil he didn’t know how to cope with, and you never knew how to reassure him properly.

Levi was, surprisingly, much better at that than you were.

“Eren,” you said, wishing that you could take away his pain through just a few simple words. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s just the way it goes. We seem to always lose more people than we save.”

Eren’s eyes only grew narrower, angrier with each passing second.

Of course, you said the wrong thing. Again.

“It shouldn’t have to be this way! Not when I’ve got the power of the Titans myself. No one else should have to die.”

“Really encouraging pep talk back there.” Levi didn’t allow you the chance to respond. His shoulders were tense as you all pushed forward, hood pulled up over his head to block out the rain. “Why don’t you keep going… Maybe the rest of us will feel like the mission was actually successful by the end time we’re back home.”

A pause. You considered ignoring him once again, beginning to get fed up with his constant criticisms.

“Captain,” Eren began, and something in him seem to shift, his anger towards you dissipating. He tossed a sorrowful glance between the two of you, caught between who to defend. “She was just trying to help—”

You shushed him, appreciating his concern, but not really needing it.

It seemed that no matter how poorly you and Eren seemed to understand each other, he was always the first to call Levi out for his harsh notes against you. And while a part of you always grew irritated with Eren because of that, you knew that he was trying to build a bridge between you.

You didn’t want him to think you couldn’t handle Levi’s brazen attitude, his annoying quips in moments like these. There was just so much information that Eren wasn’t privy to—he didn’t know that Levi was so harsh with you during missions only because he didn’t want to lose you.

So while you didn’t appreciate being called out in front of the entire squad for your lack of attention and dismal off-days, you would always prefer his moody remarks over being a titan’s afternoon treat.

Besides, Levi wasn’t upset with you. His tone was less than amused, but you knew what he was trying to tell you in those few words.

“It’s alright, Eren,” you said, and the boy gazed at you skeptically, wondering why you were never fazed by Levi’s personality. He just wasn’t used to it, yet. “I shouldn’t have said something like that. The truth is, no matter how many people we lose, it never gets any easy, does it?”

Eren swallowed, and looked forward, keeping his eyes on his group of friends that had stuck by him through his years as a cadet.

You sighed, trying to quell the emotions rising in you. Most of the people you remembered from being a cadet were dead.

There was a chill in the air—the rain would likely start to freeze by nightfall.

Levi was silent as he slowly removed his uniform, folding it into a pile for the next day’s laundry. There was sweat and blood coating every inch, mud from the rain that was still pouring down. The cloth was wrinkled and torn—he needed to get it stitched up before the hole grew insurmountably.

You watched from the edge of the bed, your uniform long-since removed. He didn’t meet your eyes and kept his own focused on the task at hand.

By the nature of his choppy movements, you knew that his arms were sore and exhausted. Nimble fingers kept slipping as he tried to undo the buttons of his top and frustration quickly overcame him. The lines of his forehead nearly doubled.

Silently, you stood, making your way over to him.

“Let me,” you said, brushing his hands away gently, the back of them bruised and bloodied. It was a horrible sight to see, though one you’d gotten used to. Levi was never without some sort of injury.

“I can do it,” he said shortly.

You ignored him and he let you.

The buttons fell open smoothly, revealing his pale expanse of toned skin and the hidden wounds that you didn’t know about until now.

You frowned; it didn’t matter how many times he got hurt, no matter how much the pain became familiar to him: you would never enjoy seeing him in such a state.

Your eyebrows drew together in concern, and you prepared for a snide remark from Levi, though none came.

He winced instead as he pulled the shirt off his shoulders.

“Does it hurt much?” you asked, eyeing the purple flowering across his chest. You doubted he would give you an honest answer anyway.

“Just sore.” Levi rubbed at his side gently before letting his hand fall away, gazing in the mirror behind you. He knew what was going through your mind before you even voiced it. “I promise. I know you don’t believe me, but I’d tell you if the pain was unbearable.”

He looked terribly exhausted—it was unlikely he’d gotten a moment of rest since the mission had begun two days ago.

“Alright.” There was a lapse of silence between you, but you continued standing, merely watching as Levi tugged off his pants and changed into a much more comfortable pair to wear. “Do you want to do something tomorrow?”

He snorted, sending you a skeptical glance. “I would love to lay in bed all day and rot until I’m rid of this pounding headache.” Levi rubbed his temple, accidentally flicking his dark hair into his eye. “But I doubt I’ll get so lucky. Duty calls.” The sigh he released was felt in the very depths of his soul, a kind of weariness that doesn’t go away with sleep. “Why? Ask Hange to spend the day with you; wouldn’t be the first time they’ve slacked off.”

“Levi, that’s not…” you let your words fall, exhaling slowly. “It’s Christmas Eve.” Your gaze dropped to your hands. He’d forgotten. Not that it was important anymore, with the way life had been. There wasn’t much to be happy about this year. “Tomorrow’s Christmas.”

“Is it?” The words left his lips passively, but he fixated his gaze on a spot in the corner. Hardened. “It feels like just any other day.”

“Maybe.”

He glanced back at you, his deep eyes contemplating silently before he returned to his task at hand. Levi left for the bathroom, attempting to scrub every inch of grime from himself before climbing into bed.

While he was busy, you grabbed the poorly wrapped gift from under your bed, trying not to frown at the sight of it. You were surprised he hadn’t found out about it, at this point. It wasn’t hidden well.

He returned moments later, noticing the cloud that had fallen over the room, though he was unobservant of the package in your hands. Just the pitifully sad glint to your eyes that you couldn’t seem to push away.

“You’re not upset, are you?” His icy stared held you before relaxing, and the tension in his permanent scowl released. He was slumped over, his usually perfect posture absent. “Did you really want to do something? We can leave early before—”

“No, that’s not it.” You held your hands out, the small gift balanced between them delicately. It wasn’t much, but you did your best. “I just wanted to celebrate your birthday.”

“What?” he said, a gut reaction, eyebrows pulling together.

You managed a smile, brightening at his perplexed expression. You always got him a gift, and he always reacted like he never expected it. “Happy birthday, Levi.”

He stared down at your hands, exhaling slowly. “I told you to stop getting me gifts.” He took it anyway. “I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

You made a face, thrusting the gift at him once more. You couldn’t really do anything with it besides throw it away. “Fine.” The same response as usual. “Then, celebrate Christmas instead.”

“That’s not fair. I don’t have anything for you in return, idiot. You should’ve told me.”

“Levi, that would’ve ruined the surprised,” you sighed again, suddenly feeling like the entire plan had been a bust. He continued to eye the package like it would erupt at any moment. “Besides, I don’t want anything.”

He frowned, hesitantly taking the paper bag from your hands. “You always seem to want something when we go to the markets.”

You made a face. “That’s different.” “I hardly think so, considering either way, I’m spending an ungodly amount on things you don’t really need.”

“That’s just because you love me,” you said, poking him in the chest.

His eyes narrowed.

“Besides, I really don’t want anything this year. Just to spend time with you.”

Levi sighed, looking back down at the gift. “Still. I could’ve at least gotten you some flowers.”

“Stop acting like I’ve gifted you a key to the palace. Really, it’s nothing.”

He opened it cautiously, like something might jump out at him horribly.

Inside were a few cards with the delicately written signatures of Levi’s squad and some of your other friends—those who cared enough to write to him.

A few signed their names dismissively, like Mikasa with her simple scrawl. Connie and Sasha drew a poorly drawn legion of stick figures. Eren went so far as to call him the best Captain. There was a card that Hange had completely taken over, using up every inch of parchment, and though you hadn’t read it, you were certain the stories within them were amusing and endearing.

Levi’s conflicted emotions overran his face, and he squeezed the stack of papers tightly.

Beyond the cards was an expansive collection of tea, practically every leaf and flavor combination imaginable. The box was beautifully crafted, a deep brown wood etched with Levi’s initials, and one that you’d picked out on your own.

“This was Eren’s idea,” you explained, hoping that Levi understood how much he was cared for by everyone around him; not just you. “I let them all pick out some teas without restriction. If you hate them, just keep it secret.”

His eyes softened, the beginnings of a gentle smile appearing. “I’m surprised they went to all the trouble.”

You frowned. Levi was tough on them, and everyone knew it. But he always underestimated how much the younger scouts cared about him. “Don’t be silly. All of them look up to you.

He raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. “Really? Well, they certainly fooled me. I'm sure they prefer you.” His words remained sarcastic, uncaring, but deep down, Levi really did appreciate their reassurance. That no matter how curt he was with each of them, they knew he didn’t want to see any of them hurt.

“Not really, Levi. They just think you’re unfairly impatient with me,” you laughed, shaking your head at his obliviousness. “They’re good kids. I appreciate that they’d be willing to call someone out for me; even if it’s just some old man.” You teased lightly, smiling. “You’re really raking up the years, aren’t you?”

The words left your lips in a hushed manner, your heart clenching behind the bone.

Levi smiled, though it wasn’t enough to reach his eyes. “Against all odds, anyway.”

He sighed, placing the tea and cards down carefully on the side table. Wordlessly, he pulled you into a gentle embrace, conveying all his gratitude through the tight hold he had on you.

You pressed your face into his chest, his skin smelling freshly of soap. He was warm, solid. Finally, you were able to relax—your memories of another journey outside the walls fading away.

“I suppose I do have one more surprise,” you said into his chest, not bothering to look up. “I asked Erwin for the day off—both of us. He agreed.”

Levi stilled; his hand was unmoving on your spine. “I shouldn’t—”

It was then that you pulled back, trying to ease the conflicted expression on his face. It was a typical move by Levi, to throw himself back into work in an attempt to drown out the memories from another failed mission. You could get his mind off things just as easily. “It’s one day, Levi.”

“A day half our comrades will never get.” He sniffed, his lips drawing into a thin line.

“You deserve a break,” you said softly, running your thumb against his cheekbone. His skin was so pale, fatigue wearing him down to sickness. “That can be your gift to me. Rest. For just a day. I want to spend time with you outside of training and the horror beyond the walls.”

“We have lots of time together,” he tried, but you both knew it was lie. Ever since Eren had joined your squad all that time ago, you’d been hard-pressed for any time together outside of your usual nightly routine.

Disaster just seemed to be striking down on you, over and over and over again. It was hard, sometimes, to remember you were even in a relationship at all.

“Levi,” you said, easing his lips into yours gently, whispering his name against his own like a prayer. “Please.”

He exhaled shakily, and you knew you had won in the moment, feeling him fall against you like you were all he had left to live for.

“Fine,” he said, kissing you deeply. You could hear in his voice already, in his relaxed stance, that he appreciated your actions. It was so rare that he got to ignore his responsibilities as the strongest soldier, when he was just as human as anyone else.

You cheered excitedly—you couldn’t remember the last time that you’d gotten to spend an uninterrupted day with him.

“I love you!” you beamed, throwing yourself back into his arms. Though he’d heard the words a million times before, Levi’s cheeks flushed, a deep contrast from the unsympathetic expression he wore. “Happy birthday.”

“You already said that.” He grumbled, directing you back towards your bed.

“Happy birthday.”

“Stop it. I’ll work tomorrow, I swear. Your little plan will go right down the drain.”

You started singing to him anyways.

#levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot x you #levi x you #levi x reader #aot #snk #levi headcanons #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi imagine #aot x female reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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milaisreading · 4 months

Text

🌱🩷: 10th story is here as well! Hope u all enjoy it!

Pairings: Shidou Ryusei x Isagi's sister!Yn

Warnings: Reader uses she/her

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

🎄Dec 19th🎄

"This is rediculous. You are worrying too much, Ryusei." (Y/n) said, laughing a little as Shidou fidgeting nervously with his jacket. Contrary to the player's nervous demeanor, the night was rather calm and quiet. It was December after all, and it's always like this during the holiday season.

Most people were at home with their loved ones or were on their way, like it was for (Y/n) and Shidou in this case. The two have been secretly dating for the past 4 years and nobody really knew that. Well, aside from Loki, to who Shidou blurted it out once because the captain wouldn't let him leave earlier during their 3 years anniversary. And today it was finally turn for (Y/n)'s family to meet Shidou. Although the girl was calm on the outside, inside she felt like crying. While she knew Shidou would get along great with her parents... Yoichi was a different story. (Y/n) knew from both him and Shidou how complicated their relationship is. But she hoped it will change over time.

Hearing a loud sigh, Shidou stopped panicking and looked at (Y/n), who was failing very badly at hiding a nervous look on her face.

"Everything alright?" Shidou asked, causing (Y/n) to look at him in surprise.

"Hm? Oh... I think so..." She answered absent-mindedly. Shidou pouted a little and grabbed her hand gently before giving away his usual grin.

"It will be alright. Your parents will love me. So don't worry."

"Ironic that you say it. You have been panicking for the past 15 minutes." (Y/n) laughed, causing the taller to get a little flustered.

"Whatever. I know it will be alright! You know how charming I am. You parents will love me."

"And Yoichi?" (Y/n) asked then saw Shidou tense up.

"He will, too. After all, he will rather put up with me than upset you."

"Ryusei, please." (Y/n) laughed a little more, causing the boy to sigh in relief as he heard that.

"Besides, Youchi is a very nice dude. What's the worst that could happen?"

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

'Apparently, being looked at as if you killed someone is the worst thing.' Shidou held back a groan as he felt Yoichi's eyes pierce into his soul. The taller tried his best to ignore the looks as he talked with their parents. (Y/n), noticing the looks as well, left the three to talk to Yoichi instead.

"Is everything alright, Yoichi? You kind of look upset." The older sibling commented, which caused his to look away from Shidou and back at her.

"Huh? Oh, yeah... I was just surprised that you would date someone like Shidou, I guess."

"Hmm? Why?" (Y/n) blinked, moving closer to her brother. Yoichi paused for a moment, trying to think of a good answer to not upset anyone.

"It's just that he is loud and very wild... I just never saw you to end up with someone like that." Yoichi admitted as (Y/n) blinked a few times.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's cool that you are dating him, I don't mind. It's just a surprise. And, I really don't want you to get hurt again." Yoichi admitted. (Y/n) look softened a little and moved to caress Yoichi's hair a little.

"I will be alright, Yo-chan. Don't worry, I can handle myself. And besides, I really don't have that fear around Ryusei."

"You don't? You feel 100% safe?" He asked, more for his and his nerves' sake. (Y/n) smiled and looked back at Shidou as he finished talking to the parents. The two left for the kitchen while the other one started walking towards the siblings.

"I 100% feel safe."

Yoichi sighed and nodded his head, then looked back at Shidou as well.

"Can you let us talk for a bit?" Yoichi asked, earning a nod from (Y/n).

"Hm? Sure." The older said as Shidou finally stopped next to them.

"Everything alright?" The blonde boy asked as (Y/n) kissed his cheek.

"Yeah. Yoichi just wants to talk with you for a moment. Don't take too long, you two. Dinner will be served soon." (Y/n) said as she made her way to the kitchen as well.

Once she was gone the room was silent for a few minutes, Yoichi inspecting Shidou from time to time.

"Ok, spit it out. Tell me you don't approve of this relationship and all that jazz. I really don't want to wait for it too long." Shidou said, preparing himself for the talk, but all he got was a sigh from Yoichi.

"I wasn't planning to say any of that. My big sis is old enough to make her own decisions, and I trust her as well."

"Oh?" Shidou was surprised at that.

"Just amswer me this."

"What is it?" The blonde raised an eyebrow.

"You love my sister, right? You will protect her no matter what?"

"Of course I will and of course I love her." Shidou said with no hesitation.

"I love (Y/n). She is the kindest, nicest, and most loving person I ever met. I would never do anything to hurt her, and protecting her is my priority. I know I am very rough around the edges, but I mean every word." Shidou answered sincerely. There was a silence in the room for a while when Isagi finally hummed along.

"Alright. I believe you there. I am glad you two found each other."

When those words left the youngest Isagi's mouth, Shidou felt like a weird weight was lifted off of him.

"You approve of this?"

"Yes." Yoichi answered with a soft smile as he patted Shidou's back.

"Just know, if you ever hurt her, I will hurt you back. Got it?"

Now it was Shidou's turn to smile in amusement, but still nodded his head.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about that. I would rather stop playing football than hurt her."

Just then, the conversation got cut short as (Y/n) and Iyo called the two over for dinner.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock scenarios #isagi's sister #shidou ryusei #bllk shidou #blue lock shidou #shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou ryuusei

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neosvision · 7 months

Text

the list. pt 1

mark lee x fem!reader

warnings: none?? (lmk)

word count: 1.2k (not proofread)

authors note at the end!

being as old as you were (not all that old, a college student), it was getting kind of tiring being single all the time. you never had a real relationship, you’d never kissed anyone, you’d never even held anyone’s hand. you wish you were exaggerating, you had never done anything romantic like that with anyone. there had been a couple times in the past where you’d signed up for dating apps but nothing ever worked out the way you’d hoped. over the years of taking in mass amounts of romance media, you’d curated a list. a list of things you’d probably kill someone at this point to do with a significant other. you knew there was a slim chance you would ever get to check off anything before you stopped caring about this stupid list, but you had to hope… right?

for you, talking to boys was like pinning a medal on a shadow. fucking difficult, to put it simply. until you had met a tense yet desperate mark lee in your english class. you’d noticed mark in this class a couple times, never daring to let him see you looking at him. probably one of the most nerve wracking moments of your life, him asking if you had a spare pen for the lecture. he could definitely tell you were nervous. if he were being honest though, he thought it was adorable. the way you couldn’t find the write words to express that yes, you did have an extra pen he could borrow. suddenly, you had a new friend, who just so happened to be a guy. you hadn't intended to get as close as you and mark ended up, but he made it his priority to track you down, return the borrowed pen after the lesson and ask you to grab coffee with him after class as a thank you.

after about a week, you and mark were sitting next to each other every english lesson, whispering to each other during class trying not to laugh when the teacher called you guys out, grabbing food at the local café after classes were over. it was such a new experience for you, even though you and mark were just friends. and you were fine with that, you hadn't expected anything from him, let alone the endearing chaos that his company came with.

it was just a regular day after class with mark, you and him hanging out in your dorm. suddenly the air had become so thick as he lightheartedly brought up the memories of your first encounter with each other.

"i thought for sure you were so uninterested in me every since the semester started," he spoke up, scratching the back of his head.

"i never did it on purpose, you know that" you defended.

"i know i know. i sorta thought you always avoided me because you had a boyfriend or something," he paused. "i know for sure that's not true now."

you deadpanned from your notebook to stare at him and all he could do was laugh. his laugh was a disease. there was no escaping, once you heard it, you were trapped. you had no choice but to smile at his reaction.

"seriously i'm sorry for bringing it up again but i don't believe you've never had a boyfriend or anything like it." he said, breaking the silence.

"you say things just to spite me don't you,"

"out of love." with that, he smiled. teeth and all. if you were honest, he was so cute. "never even held hands with anyone?"

"mark."

"like... never ever?"

"how many times am i gonna te-"

what was happening. in one second, you guys were exchanging banter like normal, in the next, mark had snatched your hand off from resting on your notebook and held it in his, your fingers fitting together perfectly like a puzzle. you didn't know what to say, it instantly felt like the temperature in your room had risen 1,000 degrees. he’s a fucking sadist, you’d you concluded, until you saw his face reddening too.

"i uh have to go to the bathroom, berightback" you said in a rush, getting up and practically running to the bathroom where you stayed for exactly 3 minutes and 27 seconds. (you count when you're nervous)

unfortunately, luck was not on your side today. why did it have to be the day mark came to your dorm that you had left out your list of stupid date ideas. you were sure you put the list back in its spot, a shoebox in the back of your closet. your theory was shot down and the sea of anxiety that threatened to spill quickly retreated as you returned to your room to see that you did in fact put your list away before having mark over.

"y/n?" you heard as you were pulled out of your dreamlike state of relief.

"yeah?"

"what's this?" mark asked pulling out his phone from hiding behind him and showing you a picture of... a list?

a list, that had a big sad face at the top. oh fuck. you would recognize that sad face anywhere, it was YOUR list of the things you'd wished to do with someone. all thoughts escaped your brain and that overbearing sea of anxiety had returned stronger than ever. you didn't have any excuse for why you had written that list nor did you have a lie that explained - to mark’s satisfaction - what the list actually was. you felt like you had no choice but to tell the truth, there was no time for you to think up a lie anyway. it felt like you'd been staring at him in silence for hours now.

"its a... list of um things," your voice gradually getting quieter "i wanna do with someone." at this point your voice was barely audible but it seemed like mark understood perfectly what you said.

"i didnt really mean to but i- i read through it and" he looked down at the bed, a fire of hope flamed on his face which wasn’t apparent to you in the moment. he's the one who just found the list of dates you want to go on, why did he sound so nervous?

"if you want, i could help you..." he finishes, still refusing to look at you. your panic immediately draining from you and into him.

time slowed, it felt like forever.

"i'd love that." you smiled and he finally looked up at you.

his face immediately lit up, eyes big, and there it was, his laugh. it was so perfect you had no choice but to reciprocate.

at this point both of you were just as comfortable as before all of this happened, discussing what parts of the list you would carry-out and when both of you were free.

it almost didn't feel real, just a couple of days ago you thought you would never be able to check anything off that list. yet, now? mark had offered to do everything on that list with him and you couldn't have been happier he was the one you were going to complete the list with.

AUTHORS NOTE:

unfortunately, this is so me. as a college student i’ve never had a bf or been in a talking stage😹 anywayyy my first fic (that i’ve posted..) !! i know my writing definitely needs work, i’ve always liked writing but have never been satisfied with it and hopefully posting and shit will push me to actually write more and try to improve. if you’ve made it all the way down here, thank you much. i hope you enjoyed and idk when part two will be posted if ever… lol. we’ll see i guess !

#fic: the list #nct127 #nctdream #mark lee #nct x reader #mark nct #nct #nct 127 #mark lee fluff #nct fluff #mark lee x reader #nct au

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owlish-owlhouse · 1 year

Note

yayayayay!! Is it alright if I request for a polyam relationship between hunter (Golden guardian) and Edric? With a gn!human lover who's like. Always really kind and parental? Headcanons please!! And if you don't mind, how do you think some others would react to the throuple? Like luz, amity and emira?- I love your writing!!

I didn't see the human part until after these were written, apologies :")

Hunter never thought he'd fall in love but when he met you at a bookstore during his off time he just... knew. You were both reaching for a copy of Rulers Reach and he paused as your hand brushed his. He didn't have many things he was allowed to enjoy so he was going to demand that you hand it over but than you admit you hadn't read the series yet. Hunter was buying another copy after over analyzing the last one, stickynotes and highlighters overwhelming the actual book. He decides to let you have it but before he can leave you suggest that you two swap information to stay in contact. He's hesitant but you promise since he let you keep the book you'll give it back to him once your done with all your notes. That way you can switch your copies to read the others thoughts. Like a mini bookclub. After that he can't stop thinking of you. You fill Hunters thoughts for days and he begins to research who you are in private wanting to bump into you again.

Edric always wanted love but he was never brave enough to seek it out past his family. When he met you at school talking to your friends about something you were passionate about, unafraid to be your true self, he also just knew. He began to search for you during class but eventually when asking around he stumbled upon you in the library. He's not much of a book reader but he likes spending these little quiet moments with you. Where you talk about your lives and discuss the future. You both share your interests and for once he feels like his own person rather than a male version of his sister. You see him for him.

You're always checking in on them. Asking them about their day when you see them and offering home made sweets/ treats you got at the market. You're a friendly type one who gives hugs freely and is never afraid to question if someone's doing okay when they look down. They both enjoy your company and make it a point to see you as much as they can. Hunter meeting you at your favorite places during patrol and Edric finding you at school.

So when they somehow both asked you out at the same place, same time unintentionally, they had no idea that this is where they'd end up. All of you together.

You thought the circumstance in which they confessed (in the marketplace both out of their school/coven uniforms in fancy outfits) was funny and assured both of them you had enough love and support for the both of them. It was messy at first but deciding to get lunch together to talk if out (where the boys than fought over who'd pay for you) you had a fun albeit tense lunch where you shared facts about them so they could get used to each other. Thankfully your laughter and jokes carefully diffused the situation whenever it got too intense and they slowly got closer with you as a buffer.

They are both very insecure, their just insecure in different ways. You work with them separately to build them up but they need constant reassurance from you about various things and will often come to you for advice or to ask for cuddles when they've had a bad day. Thankfully Edric and Hunter give back to the relationship in different ways making sure you feel emotionally and physically fulfilled. It's hard some days but together you somehow make it all work out.

While Hunter focuses more on the physical side of the relationship (gift giving/protecting you/hugs/touch), Edric is able to focus on the emotional and pyschological (asking how your doing/quality time/checking in/cheering you up). Both doing their part to make you feel as happy and special as you make them.

They like your mother hen instincts. It's nice having someone look after them and they always feel safe when their around you, like they can tell you anything and you'll never judge them. But just like you take care of them they take care of you. All of you making sure the others are eating, drinking, and resting. Hunter isn't used to the support and Edric has only ever had his older sister watching him so having two people to back them up feels amazing. That being said they absolutely spoil you and defiently scheme on how to pay back the kindness you give them.

Hunter buys you things to show his love for you. Rare and otherwise unattainable items you wouldn't be able to find or get on your own. Only the best for you. As Golden Guard he is able to get his hands on almost whatever he wants as people want to be in good graces with the emperor. You are given many classic books, rare plants, fancy clothes, weapons, jewelry, and other valuables related to your chosen tract/study. Hunter may tone it down if you ask him but he struggles with social and relationship cues and believes this is the best way to amend for that. He also isn't able to spend a lot of time with you so he hopes these presents make you feel better about his absence. Whenever you or Edric wear something he bought he notably brightens and is in a better mood.

While Edric could buy you a number of things too he finds personal gifts to be more fulfilling. Growing up around rich things his entire life leaves him almost dull to them. Photos he printed out of the three of you, notes he's written, flowers he pressed, souvenirs he collected from dates, things you mentioned in a passing that you wanted, and other mementos are his go to gift or way of showing affection. Of course he spoils you with purchased gifts as well but their less structured than Hunters and tend to be more random, things he grabbed on impulse because he was thinking of you. You however love them just the same and let them know how much you appreciate them.

Whenever you get them gifts their always treasured. Edric's room can be a bit of a mess but your gifts have a special place so they never get damaged, lost, or misplaced. When he's having a bad day he'll walk over to them and look over all of them. Your stack of punny cards with heartfelt messages always making him smile.

While Hunter can't display the things you give him in the same way Edric can, they also have a special place in his room and he finds himself being very protective of them. Everything has a place and he's moved everything in his room so your gifts have special spots. Just like Edric when he has a bad day he'll hold one of your gifts close as it never fails to calm him down. His favorite thing being the Rulers Reach book you annotated.

While Hunter is a bit awkward with his affection when it comes to anything verbal Edric is a pretty smooth talker. His experience with past relationships and his sisters advice make him good at being able to make you blush. He also enjoys making Hunter flustered as well, sending him a wink or a compliment to get that famous red faced doof. Hunter may not be the best at verbally explaining his affection but he balances this out by being good at physically showing you how much he cares. Kisses, hand holding, and cuddling are all things he enjoys giving you both. Edric is a little more awkward when it comes to the physical side of the relationship so they balance each other out helping ease each other out of their comfort zones. Your love languae is a mix of affirmations and touch which represents your mother hen attitude well.

As Golden Guard, Hunter has certain privledges he gets that others his age don't. However, he feels jealous of Edric as he goes to the same school as you and gets to spend more time with you. Although he can create these special dates for all of you Edric will always seem closer because he gets more time with you. This is something you all have to talk about so it doesn't create a rift.

Edric meanwhile has certain privledges with his money. His family's name is well known around the Isles and although he's been banned from many places there's a hundred more he can take you too. He also has a very creative mind and has set up special dates that only you and Hunter can experience. While Hunter can get you into places reserved only for Coven heads/ Emperor's Coven employees he can do special things like buy out a movie theater or restaurant if you want some privacy. He can also set up a firework display in the middle of the woods that would knock your socks off. Edric has no problem spending a lot of snails on you since he otherwise wouldn't have a use for them. Hunter finds it amusing and you always blush at the thought that goes into the dates they plan.

While Hunter does flex he's the Golden Guard he's also careful with his position and title. As well as who does and doesn't know about the relationship in the castle. He doesn't want Belos to see you and Edric as a distraction so he keeps his worlds seperate. As much as he'd like to show you his home and introduce you to his uncle he feels it's for the better that you don't come to the castle and that he instead comes too you.

Edric has similar thoughts about the Blight mansion. While his mother and father are never really around they have things in the house to monitor it. He fears his mother would disapprove or try and drive you away. He also fears she would try and use the Golden Guard for her own gain. So he prefers not to hang around his house unless Emira is there and it's less of a date and more of a hang out so Odilia doesn't grow suspicous.

That being said bringing not one but two boys to your house can be tricky. Thankfully your parents are supportive as Hunter and Edric are both respectful and kind people who only want what's best for you. Your friendliness and mother hen nature clearly comes from your parents as they often offer the boys snacks and big bear hugs like you do, pulling them into family activities and sharing embarrassing stories about you.

Homes aside when you don't want to be bothered by your parents, hiding your relationship, or go somewhere your not supposed to be, there are plenty of other options. The Library, the bookstore you met Hunter, the school, the marketplace, the joke shop, the prank store, or various restaurants all being spaces you've snuck off to get some alone time together. Edric also knows plenty of hidey holes and Hunter having scouted the entire island has more than a few ideas.

Flying around with your palismen, either in the woods or somewhere secluded is something you all love to do. There's something so freeing about flying and practicing various magic tricks without supervision. Although Hunter can not practice like a normal witch his mind and staff more than make up for it, his power something else entirely. Ed and him usually start sparring to gain your attention but you've beaten them more than once or twice. You combine different magic's practicing wild techniques like Hunters books and although it's strange at first it becomes fun. He worries about being caught but since you and Edric haven't chosen a coven yet you are still free to practice multiple magics until your final decision. Hunter once he's warmed up to the idea begins using glyphs and glyph combos on his staff while you and Edric try to combine magics to see what'll happen.

While going on dates is fun you also just make time to hangout and bond as a group. You've been on plenty of misadventures together and almost been caught once or twice. Thankfully you've always escaped trouble and though Hunter scolds you both for putting yourself in danger you always get out okay in the end. You have learned things about each other in the moment you never would have known otherwise.

Hunter enjoys talking about wild magic something his uncle never lets him speak about. While Edric enjoys explaining his multiple tracks and how the coven systems are changing. He always thought he'd be an Illusionist but now he wants to combine his skills and make something new. They sometimes butt heads about this but when you put your two cents in they calm down, almost always agreeing with what you say. They enjoy hearing you talk and some of your favorite moments are spent staring up at the stars and chatting about your days, interests, and wishes for the future.

You all balance each other out and care for one another deeply. Your relationship is odd but worth it.

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itsawhumpsideblog · 3 months

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The Safehouse, pt. 6

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, description of injuries

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

The day of a rescuee's arrival can feel chaotic and uncomfortable for you, as well as for them. Be very careful not to inadvertently pressure rescuees to respond to you right away, and try to give yourself some grace if things feel tense. Remember that rescuees must learn that they can trust you and they likely do not yet understand that they have been freed. Save that conversation for a later date, after some trust has been established, and focus on their health and comfort during the first few days of their stay.

Francis was lying on the floor, like a good pet, when Master and Mistress helped the other one down the stairs. He tensed at the sound of their approaching footsteps and tried to rise before they entered, so that he could properly serve them, but he felt woozy and his arms were shaking and all he could manage in the few moments before they came though the door was to sit up and pause there while his head spun.

Master smiled at him and Francis watched his face intently, trying to figure out whether there was a sneer behind the expression. There didn't seem to be, but it was so hard to tell. Francis caught himself staring and dropped his eyes. Pets shouldn't stare, humans didn't like it.

But now Francis wasn't sure where to put his eyes. He could only keep his attention on the carpet for so long and the ceiling was so far up that to crane his head that far made it look like he was staring up at Master and Mistress, which wold never do. And he shouldn't appear to be studying their furniture, either. Francis closed his eyes briefly, in case it would make his head settle down.

Mercifully, they moved past Francis without stopping to kick at him or roll him out of their way, so perhaps his current location was acceptable. He pressed his back into the couch and closed his eyes for just a second... until he heard a sharp whimpering noise and they flew open again to see what was going on.

Across the room, Mikey had stopped in his tracks in front of the second couch. Angie and Tim had walked him across the room as gently as they could and had planned to sit him down, but he was staring at it in some kind of horror.

"Come on," Angie said, as gently as she could. "You can sit up here. It's alright, we're giving you permission."

Mikey shook his head vehemently, hardly looking at the couch. He had passed this test before and he could do it again. All he had to do was stand still until they told him where they really wanted him, until he proved he knew that the furniture was not for him and they gave him correct directions.

Only- only he hoped desperately that they wouldn't pull on his arms to try to force him forward. He hoped they wouldn't push him towards the couch. His old Master had done that, in the early days, and he had fallen onto the cushions and then Master had beaten- retrained him, so that he would remember to stay off the furniture. But he had never tried to get on the furniture in the first place, only been pushed- but he must not think like that. It was his job to avoid being bad, of course.

He hoped they wouldn't hurt his arm too much, when they pushed him. Mikey bent over, almost unconscious of the movement, cradling his arms against his chest protectively. He shifted his weight very slightly, prepared to fall sideways on his good shoulder when he had to.

Of course the push never came. Although they were reassuring him, Tim and Angie eventually realized that the man wasn't hearing anything they had to say. He wasn't ignoring them- the words didn't seem to be making it to his brain for processing.

"How about you take a spot on the carpet?" Tim suggested, one hand resting gently on Mikey's back. "Here- maybe on this pillow, so it's more comfortable?" He nudged a pillow over and now Mikey's eyes lifted, looking vastly relieved.

Mikey nodded and Tim and Angie stepped back to let him get comfortable. He shuffled around the pillow, as if searching for an angle, and then he very carefully lowered himself down onto his knees.

On the pillow now, Mikey seemed to relax a little. He still held his body very taut, poised for a blow or the need to move quickly, but his facial expression evened out. He cradled his left arm in his right, stroking absently at his forearm as if to soothe some pain there.

"Do you think he would take a painkiller?" Tim whispered to Angie. "If we gave it to him?"

"We can try. Francis ought to take something, too." She bustled off in search of water and medicine and the three men waited silently behind her.

Tim lowered himself onto the couch, finding that he was a little embarrassed to be seated comfortably while Francis and Mikey were on the floor. Mikey didn't seem to notice, engrossed in staring at the floor and tending to his arm, but Francis was watching Tim out of the corner of his eye and seemed to be waiting to find out what Tim would do next.

Angie wasn't gone long and returned with two cups of water, a small bottle of pills, and a washcloth. She set everything down on the coffee table and turned to her first patient. It took some coaxing, but she found that Mikey didn't seem to object to taking the medicine, as long as he didn't have to hold the glass of water himself.

"Very good," she reassured him, and he looked up briefly, his face relaxing into a look that might be pleasure. Angie returned the warmest smile she could muster before standing and moving on to her next patient. Something told her that Francis was going to present a greater challenge.

"Francis?" Angie started, "Can I give you some medicine?"

Francis was so surprised to hear his name, when he had not been expecting it, that his eyes widened and he looked straight at her for a moment before remembering to drop his gaze as a polite pet should.

"You're okay," Tim said, though Francis wasn't sure why. Tim stood and came over to crouch next to Francis, who unconsciously drew back. "Can we give you some medicine?" Angie asked again. "It'll help with the pain."

Tim added, "We'll take care of your feet and- and everything else, you know, properly but this will at least start to get your fever under control."

Francis tried to look clear-eyed and receptive, as he had been taught. Smoothly, he replied, "This pet needs no medicine. He will do as he is told."

"Sure, sure," Tim said uneasily. "But you can have some, just to start feeling better. Uh- please, take some?"

"This pet will do as he is told."

"Okay, sounds good," Angie replied, just to stop the cycle of repetition. Tim held out the glass of water and dropped two pills into Francis' hand. "There you go. Just take those and drink that glass of water, please."

It felt very strange to be given medicine. Francis couldn't remember if that had ever happened before- but yes, it had. It had been long ago, early in his time with his previous Master, when Master was still learning. He hadn't understood the limits of what his pet could take and had been too enthusiastic with his discipline.

There had been a correction and Francis had been left in the basement without supper. He had fainted and failed to clean his own wounds properly and by the time he woke, his head had been so fuzzy and his whole body had felt on fire. He could barely crawl to the top of the stairs and... and then Master had to come into the basement, a place he never went, and put medicine down Francis' throat every day for a week, until the burning stopped and the weeping cuts went back to just being red and Francis could get up and serve again.

"...you alright down there?" a voice was saying, not so harsh as his old Master had been, less resentful. More... curious, Francis thought. Were masters ever curious about their pets?

"Yes, Master," he said obediently. That was usually the right answer.

"And there's no chance I can convince you we want you on the couch?"

"This pet will do as he is told," Francis repeated, but they could tell from the tone of his voice that he was uneasy with the request.

"We can make you comfortable down here, too," Angie suggested. "Tim, why don't we do that? Then he can really relax."

Master nodded and Francis wondered what this would consist of. "Good idea. Let's see..." Master stood up and wandered out of the room, while Mistress remained crouched next to Francis, probably to ensure that he didn't rise without permission. Francis held himself very still be a good pet, be good, you can- until Tim came back holding a blanket and a pillow and something blue and plastic looking. For some reason, Mistress smiled when she saw it.

Francis knew he should be serving Master and Mistress, or at least assisting them, but he didn't know what they were trying to accomplish. His hands began to shake as he watched them work, knowing that he ought to be doing it. He ought to be taking care of whatever this was and they were going to be angry at him and he wanted to explain, but when he said, "Mistress, this pet will-" she just gave him one of those strange smiles and said, "Don't worry about it, it's all taken care of."

What was?

Slowly, Francis figured out what they were doing. Master blew into a small black tube on the end of the plastic thing and it unfurled into a thin mattress. They placed the mattress on the floor next to Francis and placed the pillow on it, like a small bed.

"You can't just lie on the floor," Master explained, sounding so reasonable, but Francis eyed the little bed with some horror. He had to stand, he had to prove that he could work, that they should not go to all this trouble for him, he should-

"I don't think he can hear us," Angie said to Tim, watching Francis' face intently. His eyes were vacant and darting from side to side and he was shaking, although he had been shaking before. Maybe it was better not to read too much into that.

Tim looked conflicted- he was thinking about the directions the manual had given them- but at last he shrugged. "Let's just put him to bed and maybe when he's there and he sees we're not upset, he can calm down."

Francis did not resist as they bent over him and lifted him, briefly and carefully, to lay him on the camping pad next to the couch. He felt the strange, soft material under him, more gentle on his back than the basement floor had ever been and it felt good, but it still felt like the kind of place that was for humans, not him, and he lay very rigid and frightened as Master drew a big, soft blanket over him. Could it really be for him? Or was it some sort of test that he could only pass by refusing?

Francis tried to rise, but Mistress pressed his shoulders back. Pressed, he noted, not pushed or slapped or grabbed. "Stay here, please," she said, in a voice whose tone he could not begin to fathom.

He lay back, staring with wide and glassy eyes directly at the ceiling. There was something cool and wet on his forehead and then a slight, soft pressure, as of a hand pressing down very gently. It rested there a moment and then lifted.

"I think we ought to stop there," came Master's voice. "Let them rest a little before we do anything else."

"Good idea."

As they passed out of his field of view, Francis wondered what they had in store for later.

Next time: an at-home medical evaluation for Francis and Mikey, and Francis draws some interesting conclusions from the television.

Master Post

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump

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bitchfitch · 2 months

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chapter 4 from that elden ring fanfic (needed to post it on its own for a thing)

There was a rattling noise coming from the air conditioner in Radagon's car. No one could remember if it was Miquella or Malenia who shoved the folded up sticker responsible for the sound through the vent slats when they were four. The rattling and quiet purr of traffic filled the empty spaces of the car during the otherwise deathly silent ride.

Radagon kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight, his grip at ten and two on the wheel. The tendons in the back of his hands flexed as his fingers twitched in their grip on the wheel. Tightening and loosening over and over again as Radagon picked through his own thoughts.

Miquella tried not to look like he was paying too much attention to the unconscious fidgit. It wasn't like he could divine his father's thoughts from the twitching of his fingers, but sometimes he wanted to believe he could.

The security guard in the little station by their school's fence didn't even look up from his book when he opened the gate for them. It always seemed a very blase response for a security guard to give a black car with heavily tinted windows driving up to a highschool on Saturday, even if Miquella knew they were an identifiable lot, Radagon with his massive build and bright red hair worn loose, and Malenia with hers tied back to make a point of not hiding the extensive scarring on her face, and Miquella... was there too.

When they parked Radagon cleared his throat before unlocking the backdoors to let them out.

"Mal, can you give your brother and I a moment? He'll be in right after you."

Malenia hesitated, waiting a beat for Miquella to give protest to the idea before nodding when none came. "Yes sir," She gives Miquella a tight half smile "I'll wait for you by the changing rooms," before grabbing her duffle and escaping into the parking lot.

The door closed with a dampened thunk that Miquella felt as much as he heard. Radagon was still staring forward. His hands still on the wheel. He sighs and lets his shoulders drop.

"I'm going to be gone a few days. But I was wondering if you'd want to do something when I got back. There's a suit shop in town, a proper one that tailors them to fit," he pauses, his eyes flicking up to find Miquella in the rear view mirror. "I wanted to wait until you were a little older to take you, to see if you'd get any taller, you know, but... with everything that's been going on, and your 16th coming up, I think it'll be a good thing for us to do. A proper father son bonding experience."

Miquella knew this was his vain attempt to make up for the dress, an olive branch being held out between them. He couldn't help but wonder what snakes were hiding in it or when it would be turned into a switch.

"Uh, I'll see what my schedule is like. Midterms are coming up and I don't want to lose too much study time-" Miquella tenses when Radagon's face hardens again.

"It won't take longer than any of your playdates do. I'll check your schedule and get an appointment set up for us, ok?"

"Ok," he knew when to let a fight be a loss, "Thank you but- Malenia- She needs help with suiting up. I don't want to keep her waiting too long," with that the door unlocked so he could step out into the late winter day. The light chill being a relief from the pressure of being alone with Radagon.

Miquella hurried to catch up with Malenia as his father's car pulled out of it's parking spot. Too focussed on willing himself into faux calm to notice the trio of boys from his grade loitering in the otherwise empty hall until it was too late.

The leader of the posse, a military brat who's name Miquella had never felt was worth learning, stepped away from his crew just enough to 'accidentally' hip check Miquella as he attempted to pass them.

"Hey what's the rush? Class doesn't start for another ten Euraidd," the brat sneered, clamping a hand on Miquella's bicep to make him freeze. Miquella didn't know when he learned that trick, or if he knew why it worked, but that never mattered when it happened. It always made Miquella stop dead like a deer staring down a semi's headlights.

"Probably just looking for her big sister," one of the lackies chimed.

"Weird to see them separated. Thought you were supposed to be the cripple's seeing eye dog," the third added on.

"Ptchssh, lay off her Ed," the brat steps around him to stand behind Miquella with his hands on his shoulders. The change in grip not at all helping when there were fingers digging into the flesh above his collar bones. "She's clearly a puppy, not a dog. I mean look at her! She's what, nine?"

They were trying to get him to be the one to start the fight, to escalate 'friendly teasing' into a thrown elbow that could justify proper aggression.

"Malenia is waiting for me," he tried to shrug off the brat's hands, taking a step to the side to escape the circle, but the grip only tightened as the larger boy dragged him back into place.

"Hey we're just playing Micky. No reason to go running off so soon. She'll be fine on her own for a bit. We had something we needed to chat about with you anyways," he lifts one hand from Miquella's shoulder to flick his braid back and forth over the nape of his neck. "Heard a nasty rumor and just needed to set the record straight with you so that next time we could defend him for you.

"A lil birdy said your brother knocked up some bitch before he killed himself."

Miquella bristled, for a moment loosing his temper and getting beat to shit before he was expelled didn't look like such a bad consequence for punching the brat. He was saved though, from cracking his teeth with the force of how hard he was clenching his jaw to hold his tongue, and from what would happen should he loose it, by one of the girls in their class shoulder checking the brat.

Finlay, Miquella knew her name because Malenia had once made a point of complimenting her skill, shoved the brat aside. She wasn't the biggest woman in the world nor was she the best fighter, but she had bulk to her and a stubborn fire that Malenia liked.

"Back off," it was a simple command, and one the brat moves to follow, holding his hands up defensively.

"Fuck sakes, Cleanrot. Don't spook a guy like that! I might have accidentally yanked poor- hey!"

Miquella took that as his cue to escape down the hall towards the girl's locker room. Though she was a bit shorter than the brat, Finlay had a foot of height on Miquella and, if he was remembering correctly, her father might very well be brat's commanding officer. Even if the trio felt comfortable going after him there wasn't a chance in hell of any of them touching her. Besides what help would he be in a fight like that.

The bickering faded as he rounded the last corner between him and the locker room, and with it he managed to breath a little easier.

Malenia was waiting for him just beside the door, her cane tapping against the floor along to the rhythm of the song playing in her ear bud as she typed away at a message to someone.

"We owe Finlay," Miquella said to her as he bent to pick up her bag, "The goons were bothering me and she stepped in."

"Why?" Malenia pocketed her phone and followed him through the door.

"Probably to make sure we owed her."

A few of the girls greeted them both, Miquella's use of the girl's locker room having not been questioned once in the time they've attended this class. As far as the other students knew Malenia needed help getting suited up, so of course her twin would follow her to the back corner and offer assistance while he got his suit on over his under clothes too. Everyone was fully clothed anyways, dressing in the locker rooms being more for convenience than modesty, and it wasn't like anyone of the young men and women that made up their class really saw Miquella as a boy equal to their peers. He was too... stunted for that.

"What held you two up? I was about to start texting Mal to ask if you two were breaking your attendance streak," one of the seniors, Tamra, asked.

"Our dad just wanted to talk to me about buying a suit," Miquella shrugged, not wanting to involve the others in whatever the goons had been attempting even if he was still simmering from the brat's attempted insult of Godwyn. It was a car accident. Miquella knew it was an accident. "He wants me to wear one to Malenia and I's birthday party."

"I can't imagine you in a suit... Either of you really," one of the other girls said as Miquella helped Malenia step into her trousers, she didn't need the help, he just needed to justify his presence.

"I could make a suit work," Malenia replied, leaning on Miquella's shoulder to brace herself.

"Yeah I mean you Could, but you're both so-" Tamra mimed doing a cute sway in a skirt "-You know? All graceful and pretty."

"My sister got married in this like, lacey dress suit thing. They'd both look good in that... Malenia especially. Like the lace plus the engravings she has on her bicep? Perfect look," the other girl chimed in as the door opened and Finlay stepped in. She was greeted much the same as the twins had been. Miquella makes a point of shooting her a smile.

"I don't think the place Dad has in mind will sell that kind. He wants me to wear a proper manly suit," Miquella directs the attention away from Malenia's looks with an eye roll. There's snickering at that idea from everyone listening. Miquella again bit his tongue to stamp down the feeling that came from the others finding the idea of him 'dresed like a man' comical. He was feminine and often he was a woman, but he was still a man most of the time.

"Why?" Tamra asks, "Also, who wears a suit to their sweet 16?"

"We do," Malenia sighs, "Same reason we're not inviting anyone we like. It's more for our mom and dad to show off how refined we are to their business friends."

"Yeah, It's all gonna be pageantry. But, since none of those people or their kids know us we do suspect we'll be making off with a good number of gift cards."

"We're hoping they'll try to outdo eachother to impress mom."

Some of the girls laugh, some who were closer to Miquella and Malenia's level and who knew what it was like to have their parties made into business meetings grimaced and offered quiet condolences. They were all done getting ready for the class now, their bags shoved in lockers and their helmets and sabers under their arms, so the herd moved from the locker room to the main gymnasium. The conversation between them drifting and breaking off to other topics amongst smaller groups.

After drills came the bouts. Malenia and Miquella found their usual spot on the bleachers. Low enough to have a good view, far enough away that Miquella's commentary wouldn't bother the other students.

"Tamra and Samira are up. Samira is stiff, I suspect her shoulder is still hurting her," the rhythm of narrating their fellows' fights was easy if dull for Miquella who didn't care much for the sport. Malenia loved it though and listened intently as she prepared to take her turn. Every described bout adding more and more notes to the library of strategy she had for taking on any one of their peers.

Though today it seemed they were destined to be interrupted.

"Finlay is approaching us from your side," Miquella warned as Finlay slid along the bench.

"Hey. Hi," she smiled awkwardly, sitting too straight as both twins turned their attention to her completely. "So, I heard what you were talking about in the locker room. Ok, and I just... Need a little favor. I need an invite to your party. I don't have to actually Go, but I need need need an invite."

"What?" Malenia raised a brow at her.

"You all will get this. My dad doesn't like my friends right, since you know, none of them are straight or-" she puts on a bad imitation of her father, "- of the right sort-" and immediately drops out of it to continue her ramble, "- So I thought if I could prove to him I was rubbing elbows with the Euraidd's it would get him off my back a little, you know?" There's a beat where they both just blink at her, she continues to run her mouth, "And You know, we're the only three out queers in our school, We should-"

"Stop. Who told you that?" Miquella interupted.

"We're not queer," Malenia tacks on defensively.

"Funny," Finlay snorts, "But I'm serious please- Wait you two are also being serious?"

"Yeah? We're both straight," Miquella lies and Malenia nods.

"Guys..." Finlay finally runs out of words, and takes a moment to gather more. "Listen, I won't tell anyone, but Seriously, everyone already knows. Or, they already know about Miquella being a girl. I think we all just, you know, assume you're into girls."

"I'm not a girl-" Miquella starts and then takes a deep breath, "Fine. If You're so sure about us, might as well let us be sure about you."

"She's a lesbian," Malenia answers his question before Finlay can.

"Bi but yeah, girls. Anyways. Invite?"

"You aren't going to drop that are you?" Miquella sighs, already forming a plan to get her off their back. She was stubborn and liked proving herself...

"Nope, not until I have it."

"Fine. A mat just opened up. Go beat Malenia in a bout and you can have an invite," it was a stupid bet and Miquella didn't actually care all that much if she was invited or not, but he resented her calling him a girl and so publicly bringing up the dirty laundry that was his and Malenia's atypicalities. Even if they did owe her.

"I can take you no problem -"

"I didn't say take me. I said take her. Besides, it's a segregated class boys and girls don't get to share the mats."

"I'll go easy on you," Malenia would have rolled her eyes. "C'mon Cleanrot. I haven't managed to get him to change his mind once, you aren't doing it today."

"But-"

"It's this or backing off." Miquella turned his attention to his nails with a huff, thoroughly being done with this argument.

"Fine. Fine, I get it, you two need to be like This about everything. Legally," Finlay stood and stomped after Malenia, her determination clearly winning out over her frustration with them.

Miquella didn't care for fencing, until it was Malenia holding the saber. Her modified prosthetic mimicked a real grip as best as the twins had been able to make it. To keep in line with unwritten regulations. But as she stepped to the mat and donned her helm it was easy to imagine her with a saber prosthetic actually made to compliment her instead of mimic others.

They were counted in. Finlay lunged first, Malenia countered easily. A fast exchange of swiping strikes and then the buzzer sounding as a strike finally found its mark on the other girl's vest.

Malenia held her saber too high in the final moments. It wasn't even a close miss. Miquella knows what it looks like when she throws, and aggravation boils his blood.

Finlay had won. Malenia let her perfect streak die to Give away a match.

Half sincere clapping spread through the watching students as the girls returned to where they had left Miquella. Malenia was a prodigy with no compare amongst them, even winning a thrown match against her was something worthy of praise.

"What was that?" Miquella hissed at her, letting his usual calm and sweet mask fall away into a bitter faced pout.

"Don't rub it in," Malenia's tone was utterly dry, "The first loss of the year always hurts the most."

"Invite?" Finlay's smug smile was the only thing more irritating than her victory.

"A deal ia deal," Malenia knew she didn't need to push it further than that.

"You're both the worst," Miquella pulled out his phone to find the text thread between him and the party planner, telling her to edit the invite for General Cleanrot to be for Finlay and company instead.

"Miquella, you're up." their teacher called. She let him slack off, knowing he was only here for Malenia's sake, but never did she let him escape a session without a bout.

He groaned, dropping his phone in Malenia's lap and sulking off to see who the least physically adept student would be facing today. Only to have someone volunteer instead of be assigned.

The brat sneered at him from the other side of the mat before their helmets went on. Miquella was just grateful he wasn't stupid enough to run his mouth while their teacher was right there.

They were counted in. Miquella fainted to the left before slapping his saber against the brat's right side. A quick and messy win that came only from the brat's muscle memory being developed against taller opponents, but a full win none the less. He disengaged the second the buzzer sounded. Stepping back and out of reach before he could be punished for lingering.

"Good job, both of you. Best two out of three?" the teacher pushed the idea of another bout, but Miquella was already unplugging his wires.

"Malenia needs someone to tell her what's happening," he lied, knowing the teacher didn't care enough to force him.

"It's not even a fair matchup, She should be in the kiddie league-"

"That is enough-" The teacher turned her full attention to the brat as Miquella trotted back up the bleachers to where the girls were now talking between themselves.

Malenia had moved into his seat to sit closer to Finlay so Miquella just took hers.

"We're going to Finlay's after this," Malenia says as he settles. "Her dad is out of town and she has the code to his sword room and wants to pay us back with a tour."

"That can be how she pays You back. You two can both pay me back by saying I was with you if anyone asks."

"Why?" Finlay laughs, "What're you going to be up too that's so cool you'll turn down a hands on look of some sick ass swords? Malenia said you were like, into making them and everything."

Malenia doesn't say anything now, Miquella notices how she stills though. She has an idea of where he'll be and he'll be hearing her disapproval of it the next moment they have alone.

"None of you business," he responds to them both as he begins counting down the minutes until Mohg would have someone come get him.

#im applying to be a writer on a zine and this is literally the only thing thats recent and im proud of that doesn't involve cannibalism #just bitchfitch things #that highschool au thing

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ravennaortiz · 8 months

Text

Lost and Found: Chapter 2

This is a twisting tale of love, family and loyalty told through present tense and flashbacks.

Trigger Warnings: General themes of the show( death, violence, drinking etc), Minors DNI, implied sexual assault in later chapters.

Jax was sitting at his kitchen table drinking whiskey as he thought over the last few months. A knock at his door pulled him from the rabbit hole he was going down.

“Laddie” greeted Chibs as Jax opened the door. “Hey Chibs” replied Jax as he stepped back to let his VP in before shutting the door and making his way back to the kitchen. “Drink” inquired Jax as he got another glass out. “Course” replied Chibs as he sat down. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Chibs spoke.

“How much longer are you gonna punish the kid?” asked Chibs his eyes searching Jax’s face for clues. “I don’t know what you mean brother” replied Jax his stare icy. “A week was all he was supposed to serve Jax. It’s been almost five months now and on top of that you have him sharing a cell with an AB shot caller. No protection and not letting anyone from the club visit but you is extremely wrong and cruel” stated Chibs calmly as he lit a cigarette.

“Changed my mind. As President of this club I get to do that. “ shrugged Jax as he leaned back in his chair avoiding eye contact for fear his eyes would betray him. “True. As President doing that makes it hard for your brothers to trust you” replied Chibs not wanting to set Jax off. Which here lately was getting easier and easier to do unfortunately. Jax frowned as he stared at the floor of his kitchen. He knew what Chibs was saying was true. He had seen the wary looks from the guys and had heard the murmurs of him being out of control.

“You’re not just punishing Juice ya know Laddie?” murmured Chibs soothingly after a few moments of silence. Jax swallowed hard. The words stabbing him like a knife. He had never meant for Scarlett to become a casualty again at his hands. He regretted nothing more than every tear she had shed during these last few months as well as the way he told her to just pick another club member to sleep with when she had confronted him about how long Juice was going to be locked up. “I never meant to Chibs. I tried telling her that again today but she just told me she hated me and always will. That I was just like Clay” replied Jax sorrowfully as he put his head in his hands. Chibs sighed as he rubbed his own face trying to figure out the right words to repair the damage.

“Jackie Boy” stated Chibs firmly causing Jax to look up into his fiery gaze. “I’m going to speak and you are going to sit there be quiet and listen to every hard truth. I’m then gonna leave and let you choose your course.” He stated as he waited for Jax’s acknowledgement. Jax nodded. He trusted Chibs advice more than anyone. “Juice made one mistake. He was trying to protect the club, he has a good heart. He wasn’t trying to be malicious or destroy us. Yes he should have come to you immediately but he was scared and I can’t blame him. His punishment for his mistake is insane when you consider the fact you, I and Tig have done something similar and Tig also killed Donna. Tig barely got a slap on the wrist for that and you kept that information from Opie and the rest of the club for a long time which makes you just as compliant in my book.” Chibs paused to let Jax process his words before he continues.

“Not to mention all the positive things Juice has done for the club. Erasing charges, setting up security, performing CPR on your sister as she lay dying on the floor of her own house after Clay sent those Nomads to attack her. An attack brought on because you opposed Clay on gun running and because you had undermined him in front of the club when you approved of Juice and hers relationship after he had tried to forbid it. Juice sat with her for weeks in that hospital room, then taking care of her at home, cleaning her house, hunting those nomads down, helping you get the evidence on Clay and getting you that President patch. The same patch which you are using to abuse him by the way…… just like Clay” finished Chibs as he took a deep breath. His emotions had started to get the better of him at the end causing him to rant some as he leaned into Jax’s space with his finger in his face.

Jax was silent. The words stung but he knew Chibs was right. Memories flooded Jax’s head taking him through the horrors of that day he thought he had lost his sister forever. Those memories haunted him just like Opie’s, Bobby’s and Tara’s final moments. Jax shook his head not wanting to be on this path. Not wanting to confront his demons and the knowledge he had let his need for power and revenge cloud his judgement and let him take things too far. Jax barely registered Chibs patting his shoulder before he left. All he could think was how did we get here and how did it all go so wrong.

***************************************************************

It was dark by the time Scarlett pulled her car into the garage parking alongside Juices Dyna. She sighed as she ran her hand over the leather of the seat as she let the good times play through her mind. The first time they met, beach days, video game and pizza nights, their transition from friends to a couple, him taking care of her after her hospital stay, her moving in with him and everything in between. Scarlett stepped back, brushing the tears away before moving to the door and going inside.

Loud metal music and the smell of cooking food lured Scarlett to the kitchen where she knew she would find their good friends Half-sack and Rat like she had every night for the last five months. Juice had wanted to make sure she never came home to a silent, dark and empty house. While she appreciated that deep down she knew this house would never feel right without his voice, his laughter, his love….without him.

She leaned in the doorway of the kitchen lost in thought. Juice had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure she would be comfortable and safe. He had signed over his bike, house and his share of clear passages to her not to mention transferring her all the money in his accounts. She remembered telling him it wasn’t necessary but he had just smiled sadly and told her it was just in case.

“Shit Scar” yelled Rat as he turned around finally noticing her as he dropped the plate in his hands and made Half-Sack jump too. “Sorry guys” apologized Scarlett as she stepped into the kitchen with a small laugh as she picked the plate up. “It’s okay” replied Rat as he shook his head with a grin and took the plate from her. “Sit down, dinners almost done” he added. “How is Juice?” asked Half-Sack as he took stuff out of the oven. “As okay as he can be given the unfair and barbaric punishment Jax is dealing out” replied Scarlett. “What did you two do today?” asked Scarlett changing the subject. Scarlett listened to the two talk while they ate dinner before departing to her room early.

What if I’m not strong enough to handle this, thought Scarlett as she lay in her bed until she cried herself to sleep.

Return to Chapter List

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nepobabyeurydice · 6 months

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If You Look For War

Summary:

Emily Zhang in 640 words of denial, emotional damage and paranoia

.x.

If you look for Death you will find him, it is not the matter of simply wanting, it is a matter of searching. With War, it is a touch more difficult to distinguish. You find him and Death in the same place, amidst battle and blood and the tense silence between one breath and the next.

Emily doesn’t remember how she found Mars instead of Letum, but she thinks this is a kinder thing that she could offer her mother than a flag.

Mars is charming, they always are. He speaks of her talent, of her family gift, given to them by Poseidon. He speaks of battles that she had spent her whole life studying, and he praises her beauty no matter how covered in blood she is. And so, Emily finds herself falling bit by bit.

He keeps Letum away, slinging an arm over broad shoulders and referencing past events in front of Emily, and she thanks him because it means her compatriots can survive another day.

Then, one day, her stomach starts swelling. They send her back, and she goes without a fight, a little numb, more than a little shell shocked and wondering how she’s going to explain this to her mother. Emily had promised she would do better instead of just being reckless with herself like she was back then.

Her mother says nothing. She pokes at Emily’s belly, asks for Mars’s name and then takes her to the OBGYN.

Emily waits for the condemnation, the exasperated looks, the disowning, the yelling. It never comes, she waits breathless for seven months for the bitter words and chidings. They never come.

“Zexi,” Mother says, and all Emily can think is this is it. “What will you name the child?”

Emily pauses, breathes, thinks of Letum, thinks of Mars, thinks of her grandfather seething at the Romans that kicked him out.

“I,” she says, “have no fucking clue.”

Mother nods like she expected it and brings Emily a book. The title proudly says: Names Not Cursed By The Gods And Guarnteed To Keep Your Demigod Baby From Being Name Dragged by Lucina Juno.

Emily is silent for a moment, takes the book and walks away. She didn’t want to know how her mother had come upon this book which looked brand new.

She comes out with Fai for a boy and Xue for a girl. Frank and Sue when Anglicized. A bit basic but apparently most gods didn’t have a grudge according to Lucina’s book and Emily was more keen to keep it that way.

Soon enough she’s in the hospital room, gasping and crying as she trembles and forces out her child.

Mars appears. Childbirth was a battlefield after all. His eyes are suns behind his glasses and his hands are gentle as he holds her hands.

Pull yourself together, soldier, he whispers lovingly to her.

Emily does and two hours later she’s holding Zhang Fai and she tries not to burst into tears.

Her mother takes them home, and Juno comes with them.

She points at the firewood and Emily knows she can already feel Fai turning cold in her arms and his lips are tinged blue. Her mother lunges and pulls the firewood out, Fai takes a breath and the firewood goes out but the burns remain.

Emily thanks Juno as best she can and locks the firewood in a vault at the bottom of the house. No one would ever think anything of it and it was fine. As long as she could pretend she didn’t see Letum watching her with sad golden eyes that she had seen a year ago during the war she could convince herself that it was perhaps a cosmic prank.

She still never takes the firewood out.

She goes to war. She looks for war. She finds only death.

.x.

#heroes of olympus #frank zhang #emily zhang #my writing #queue for the queue god

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justmilah · 11 months

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“Whispers” | Millian

@moonbeamnights has been nice enough to let me ramble with her about so many ideas and head canons for these two, and this is one of the ideas that came from it. (Hopefully it's coherent, I tried putting like ten different things we talked about in here.)

WORDS: 2,290

RATING: T

PAIRINGS: Millian

SUMMARY: He heard the whispers then, familiar and slimy little things that wriggled and squirmed into his ears and settled heavily in his gut and he knew she could hear them too.

Ao3

Each time he watched her find him in a crowd her face would light up. It would last only for a moment before she caught herself, schooling her features into a more appropriate expression as her eyes quickly scanned the crowd to make sure no one had seen her, but by then the damage would already be done. Whether he'd worked himself up to the idea that this would be his last time there for both their sakes, or had tried to convince himself that the memory of her was certainly better than reality, her happiness at seeing him of all people ensured he would return at least one more time.

Killian was not used to seeing her outside the tavern. When the ship made port and the resupplies were going underway, hers was a face he never saw in the crowd during the light of day despite how often he would look. Killian would imagine her at home, doing chores with a husband she adored enough to stay with or stealing a few moments to play with the boy she clearly loved. It was a domestic sort of bliss he rarely ever cared for.

That day, though, as he scanned the crowd and expected not to find her, he did. Or at least thought he did. Her back was to him and he was not sure if wild curls were a common style among the locals. Surely not, and especially not loose with the freedom she herself longed for, but the possibility of his pirate hand settling on someone with terribly delicate sensibilities who would rather scream bloody murder than smile at him gave him pause.

So he followed and watched and, admittedly, enjoyed her guileless sashay through the throng of people. He was more convinced by that than by her curls. There was only one person he knew who could walk like that without realizing exactly what it did to a person.

He knew it was her when she turned to touch a delicate silk scarf of burnt oranges and reds and caught her face in profile. Milah had an almost peaceful smile on her face, nearly serene as she was caught up in her own little world, but it quickly froze as her eyes lifted to the merchant. The stall keeper said something with the same sort of sneering smile he saw as a boy. Her lips thinned and she gave a curt nod, fingers flicking the scarf away as though it were made of dung.

Killian sped up his steps, watching her walk with tense shoulders. He nears the market she had just left in time to hear the loud whispering between colleagues about the coward's wife diminishing the value of their expensive silk scarf with her dirty hands. He looked at the scarf and then up at them, eyebrows raising in derision. "You call this silk?" He picked it up between two fingers, flicking it the same as she had, and sent it fluttering to the muddy ground.

"Hey, you can't just do that!" The man who had sneered at Milah was simply outraged that anyone would dare treat him that way.

Killian held up his hands and took a step back, giving the merchant a moment to grab the wooden club behind his stall if he so wished. He glanced at the pirate's sword and thought better of it, scoffing instead. "The world really is going to shit, Suzy."

He shrugged before pivoting, the dramatic flourish only dampened because there was no long coat to flair about his legs, to follow after Milah. His ears were now open to the chatter of others around them. He heard the whispers then, familiar and slimy little things that wriggled and squirmed into his ears and settled heavily in his gut and he knew she could hear them too. She would stop for a moment, shoulders tense, and instead of turning toward her verbal assailant like he wished she would, she just walked on.

It was after a particularly nasty comment that had him reaching for her. His hand settled on her shoulder and before he could say anything she was turning to him, ready to slam the basket she carried into his gut. Her face, so calm and serene just moments ago, was now bright red with anger and humiliation. Then she saw who he was and her face lit up, though somewhat dimmed this time, as she smiled. "You startled me."

"Are you alright?" He wanted to touch her face or pull her close, to offer any sort of comfort to her that he could. But he couldn't because she had someone else for that.

Her shoulders sagged at the realization that he'd heard. She nodded, not even pretending with a smile this time. "I'm fine. It isn't the worst they've said."

Killian scowled. "How is that fine? They shouldn't be saying anything at all." He looked up at the person he knew called her a whore, taking a step toward him before thinking.

"Please, just stop ." An old and weary frustration laced her voice as she grabbed his arm, tight grip loosening as he did as she asked. She blinked and stared at her hand before taking a deep breath to look at him, voice softening. "I'm–" She cut herself off and bit her lip before continuing. "It isn't worth it."

It was the first time she had touched him first and the heat of her hand seared through the linen of his shirt and branded itself deep beneath his skin. At least that would be what he imagined later when he could not sleep and could still feel her touch. For now, though, he stood wondering if the near slip was a near admission of one's own self worth or if perhaps his mind was too quick to try and analyze everything about her, thirsty for any morsel about herself that she might give him. "It would be, though."

Her shoulders relaxed and her smile, while small, was there. "You're very sweet." Her hand slid down his arm and settled around his, all worn calluses and soft skin. He felt his own cheeks warm. He was rarely ever accused of being sweet. Then she remembered herself, eyes darting around as her smile faded and folding her arms against herself. "But when you leave, I will still be at their mercy for the cost of flour and meat and…everything else we cannot get to grow."

Killian rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I cannot say I like it very much, but for you ," He sighed heavily with a theatrical roll of his eyes. "I shall do my very best to behave myself."

She bit back another smile as best she could. "A difficult task for you, I'm certain, but I have faith you will succeed."

"What else does a man need aside from the faith of a beautiful woman?" Her smile turned to confused shock. Fearing he might have overstepped and scare her off at any moment he took a step toward her. "Will you be at the tavern tonight?"

Her hand fluttered to her chest, brows furrowing together in thought. "Oh." She bit her lip between her teeth again and he feared she might try to make excuses. "After Baelfire's in bed. After…everyone's in bed."

"Baelfire. Your boy?" She nodded, the beginnings of a smile on her face again. "How is the lad?"

The smile bloomed so bright it almost hurt to look at. "He is beautiful. Thank you."

And, since he was already asking about her family, he had to ask about him. He hated talking about the man at all, letting himself pretend for stretches of seconds at a time that he did not exist. But the man did, and Killian had enough good form left in him to acknowledge as much. "And that husband of yours? You make the picture of domestic bliss and happiness, I'm sure." He kept his voice calm and even and he thought maybe he'd reward himself with a nice, drunken stupor later.

He expected her smile to stay when she talked about all of her family and he'd have to pretend it wasn't slowly killing him. Instead it fell as her face twisted into a hurt scowl. "Are you making fun of me?" Before he could answer her shoulders sagged and she rolled her eyes, turning to walk away as she muttered. "Of course you are. Why did I let myself expect any different."

The words were more muttered to herself but they still landed like punches to his gut. Killian knew if he didn't fix this now there would be no more smiles for him when their eyes met in a crowd, or if they ever would again.

"Milah, wait." She didn't stop and he had to scramble to catch up. He darted in front of her and held up both his hands. He wanted to grab her arms and get her to look at him but he was fairly certain that way would lead to a kneed groin and some face scratches. "How is what I said making fun?"

Her glare stayed in place for a long stretch before it finally melted as she looked at him. "You're not?"

He shook his head, finally settling his hands on her shoulders. "I might tease. But that's something for all parties involved to enjoy." He flashed her a grin and a bit of an eyebrow waggle before clearing his throat at her blank look. It was moments like these where he resisted the urge to show her what he meant. "I wouldn't make fun of someone I like. And I very much like you."

"I'm glad. I'm not sure what I would have done if you had been." Her voice was soft and sad and he wondered if he were the only adult in her life that didn't make her miserable in some way. Or, if he did, he hoped it was the sort of miserable she made him, because it was the kind wanted to cling to.

" I was fully prepared for a well placed knee." Her cheeks turned pink. He studied her for a long moment. He'd made himself content with just this, thinking this was the life she wanted. And he could be content if this was all she could give him. "Are you happy?"

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. "I love my son." It was a quick response and he wondered how often she'd repeated that to herself.

"Is that enough?"

"It has to be."

He nodded and finally dropped his hands from her shoulders. Killian thought he might be understanding more of her. He wanted to know more, to ask her everything, but having her not want to throttle him was a good place to end. Still, she had to know that she had options. "My offer still stands. If you ever do wish to see those things, all you need to do is ask."

"And if I keep saying no?" Her eyes were large.

"I will keep coming back until you tell me not to."

Later at the tavern she was laughing beside him, joking with his men as she won their money. She was happy sitting there, sipping her ale and stealing bits of bread and meat from his plate. She froze and this time it wasn't a whisper.

"Looks like the coward's wife is whoring herself to a bunch of filthy pirates to feed her family, eh?" There was laughing and jeering as his table fell silent.

He had promised her he would behave when they talked about her. But as they'd brought his crew's bathing habits into question, well, who could blame him for throwing that dagger at that man's head? There was a startled yelp beside him as it vibrated harmlessly in the wall. "Looks like I'm a bit drunk today, lads. I missed!"

This time the laughter was at his table, and far louder. Good. He turned to Milah. "I'm sorry, love, did I startle you?" She shook her head. He held up the dice for her. "Good. It's your roll, I believe."

Her pockets were filled with more coin than when she'd joined him when they left. It wasn't whoring if it was a fair buy-in and they both left for separate beds. He walked her closer to her home than he had before, suddenly not liking the way the shadows lurked around her. This meant they were far enough from prying eyes that he could take her hand in his and kiss it as he'd done their first night. "This is where I'll leave you."

She grabbed his arm again and opened her mouth to say something. Then, thinking better of it, she let him go and smiled at him. It was still lovely, still warmed him, but it was also sad. "I'll see you when you're next in port."

"Aye. I really hope you do."

He started back for his ship, stopping at the curve in the road to look back. He expected her to be gone but she stood there with a longing that he'd thought he would only ever see in the mirror when he thought of her. He wanted to run back to her, plead with her to come with him, and maybe if he did now she would. But she had a boy she loved, and that had to be enough.

He lifted his hand in a wave before making himself leave again, almost hating that his steps were suddenly lighter. He hated that the whisper of hope blooming in his chest was born from the misery on her face.

#my fanfic #milah #ouat milah #ouat millian #killian jones #moonbeamnights

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kazudon · 2 years

Text

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT ⏤ h. kazutora (shoujo!au)

kazutora’s at your window. you’re accustomed to his surprise visits, and he usually doesn’t stir up trouble. these secret meetings typically end well with you walking away scot free, but this time, you suspect a different outcome. one, it’s 3 am and kazutora is making no effort to stay quiet. two, your window is on the second story.

like any normal person, your heart stops for a moment when, through your bleary eyes, you see the boy barely hanging onto the ledge, grinning at you in the dark. you know it’s him, of course, but that doesn’t make his sudden presence any less mortifying. to add insult to injury, his sly, steady heads know how to maneuver through the locks on your window, opening it just enough for him to slip through with little to no sound.

“‘tora.”

“y/n.” he’s completely unphased by the cold look on your face, landing stealthily in your room with only a tiny thump from his shoes.

the next thing you notice is his clothes; he’s still in his school uniform, except the collar’s loose and unbuttoned, tie barely hanging onto his neck, and it’s drenched in the stench of cologne. if it weren’t for these circumstances, your face would be heating up, but you’re antsy at the thought of someone walking in or, god-forbid, the neighbors looking out their window to see you fraternizing with your secret lover.

even so, the familiar butterflies fill your stomach when kazutora leans over your bed and kisses the corner of your mouth, rubbing his nose against your cheek like a cat. you can’t fight the smile that forces itself on your face, the urge to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him on top of you onto your mattress.

“oh?” he teases. “frisky, aren’t we?”

“don’t want the neighbors to see,” you mumble.

“yeah, sure.”

he leans down to kiss you again, but you push your palm against his forehead, prying him off. “why are you here, ‘tora?”

his eyes go round and he pouts—a deep, comical expression that makes you cringe at how obviously exaggerated it is, and you hate to admit it’s cute. just a bit. with that, you let him settle into your arms, no longer fighting against his shuffles to make himself comfortable in your bed. the weight and heat of kazutora’s body slows the previous thumping of your heart, the rush of adrenaline from being awakened from your sleep, and the thrill of having him around.

“i wanted to see you,” he murmurs. “i feel like i never do during the day.”

“you see me all the time at school.”

“but we can’t do this, you know? or else the teachers would tell you off.”

amidst your conversation, the floorboards outside your door audibly sink beneath the weight of footsteps—familiar. your father. your hand immediately flies over kazutora’s mouth, though the equally shocked look on his face says he understands. you practically hear the questions running through your father’s head as he creeps closer to the door, debating on whether or not he should enter.

after a few tense moments, he retreats, allowing you to breathe in relief. just then, a chill whips through your bedroom window, still open, knocking the curtains and blinds against the frames. your father’s footsteps return.

“y/n?” he says on the other side. “are you awake?”

you pause. “yes… it was hot, so i opened the window a bit. i’ll close it now.”

more silence. finally, your father speaks. “okay, just making sure. goodnight.”

“goodnight!” your hand only leaves kazutora’s mouth once you hear your father’s bedroom door close.

“lying to your parents now, aren’t you?” he teases with a grin.

“you need to leave,” you whisper. the tight grip on his arm says otherwise.

“i’ll be quiet-”

“‘tora. now.” he knows by the narrowing of your eyes you won’t back down no matter how much he whines or pouts. with a hesitant sigh, kazutora slides off of you, allowing you to sit up. even then, he lingers at the edge of your mattress, holding your hand in his, unable to let go.

“i wanna see you again.”

“tomorrow. we’ll go on a real date.”

“promise?”

you leave a soft kiss on his lips. “promise.”

even in the dark, his cheeks glow a shade of pink. “can i still sneak in?”

“‘tora-”

“okay, i’ll be out!”

#kazutora x reader #hanemiya kazutora x reader #kazutora x you #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora hanemiya x you #hanemiya kazutora x you #tokyo revengers x reader

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

Text

The Truth About Love ~ 1

THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,660ish

Summary: Something tragic happens in the Stark family. You move into your new apartment.

“Come on, ma,” Steve chuckled. “We’re going to be late to Tony’s graduation.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sure that Tony will be late to his own graduation,” Sarah responded. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t done this before. It’s his third degree.”

Steve laughed. “I guess you’re right.” He paused and looped his mother’s arm through his own. “Where is dad?”

“Howard is on his way. He may be tough on Tony, but he does care.”

“I know. I just wish I could convince Tony to believe that.”

“Tony’s too much like Howard for his own good.”

“You’re right. Let’s find our seats.”

~~~

Howard never showed up during the graduation, causing Sarah to worry since she wasn’t able to get a hold of him. Steve told his mother that he would help contact Howard once Tony had crossed the stage. As soon as Tony’s name was called, Steve and Sarah cheered loudly. For a brief moment, they forgot that Howard wasn’t there. Sarah and Steve met up with Tony once the graduation was over.

“I’m so proud of you, Tony,” Sarah said as she hugged her step-son.

“Thank you, ma,” Tony said. He pulled away and look around. “Dad couldn’t make it I see.”

“He told me he would, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, ma.” Tony kissed her forehead. “Just thank you for being here.”

“We would never miss it,” Steve responded.

Sarah’s phone began buzzing. “Hello?” She said as she answered it. The boys watched as her face quickly fell. “We’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone.

“What is it ma?”

She looked at her sons with teary eyes. “Something’s happened to Howard.”

~~~

Tony and Steve were on either side of Sarah as they rushed into the hospital.

“I—I was called,” Sarah shakily told the nurse at the front desk. “I’m Sarah Stark. My husband Howard—“

“Mrs. Stark,” a low male’s voice called from the side.

Tony, Steve, and Sarah turned to see two cops standing at the edge of the waiting room. The small family hurried over to the cops.

“What’s going on, officers?” Steve wonders, pulling his mother into his side. His heart was pounding and he could already sense Tony’s breathing pattern change for the worst.

“There’s been an accident,” the officer responded. The three of them tensed, Tony reached over to grip onto his step-mother. “Your husband was driving when a drunk driver hit the drivers side of the car. The drunk driver died on impact. Your husband was rushed here. He unfortunately didn’t make it.”

Sarah gasped as she began to cry. Steve pulled his mother into his chest as her cries escalated. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep his own emotions at bay, as he cradled his mother’s head. Tony stood frozen, having closed his eyes, as he took in the information.

“We are so sorry,” the officer continued. “When you are ready, we will escort you down to the morgue to identify the body.”

Tony flinched at that sentence. It was an awful sentence. Almost just as bad as ‘he unfortunately didn’t make it’ or ‘we hope that you can find some comfort in knowing that she didn’t feel any pain’. That’s what the doctors has told Tony and his father after his mother, Maria, passed away from cancer. Tony would never forget that moment, just like this one would also be forever etched into his memory.

“Can we have a moment?” Steve asked, having to swallow down the growing emotion afterward.

“Of course,” the officer replied, them and their partner walking away.

Sarah pulled herself out of Steve’s arms and shuffled over to Tony. “Tony…” she croaked. “I’m so sorry.” She hugged her step-son, finally getting him to move to hug her back.

~~~

Tony had to convince Steve to come into the morgue with Sarah and himself to identify the body. Steve had been reluctant to due to the fact he was only Howard’s step-son but Tony gave Steve one look and he knew he had to. Sarah took one of Tony’s hands and one of Steve’s as they went in. Tony clenched his eyes shut as they pulled away the sheet, he couldn’t bare to see his father that way.

Sarah choked down a sob before saying, “it’s him.”

Steve guided what was left of his family out of the morgue. All three of them felt numb as they headed to their vehicles. Sarah got in the car first as Steve looked at Tony, worried.

“We can come get your car later,” Steve suggested. “You could ride with us home.”

Tony shook his head. “I need to think,” he replied, jumping into his convertible and starting it. “Don’t wait up.”

The tires squealed as Tony raced away. Steve sighed as he got into the car to drive his mother home. He started the car as his mother rested a gentle hand on his arm.

“Tony just needs some time alone,” Sarah told him softly. “It’s been a long day.”

Steve simply nodded before driving away.

~~~

Many attended the funeral. Most of it was due to the fact that Howard was the CEO and founder of Stark Industries, the world’s number one tech company. Sarah, Steve, and Tony each spoke, then afterwards it was announced that Tony would become the CEO of Stark Industries.

It was the evening of the funeral, when Tony and Steve found themselves sitting at a bar, drinking.

“That son of a bitch never let me have a day,” Tony muttered. “Had to just die on my graduation day. Announced major changes to Stark Industries my other two graduations.”

“He did love you, Tony,” Steve tried. “He just struggled showing it.”

“He never had a problem showing you that.”

“Tony…”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” He took a sip of his drink. “This is just a lot… I thought that I would have another ten, maybe even twenty, years before having to be CEO. I thought I would have time to party and live some life outside of all the degrees.”

“I’m sure that Pepper will appreciate you attending less parties,” Steve teased. “How is that going?”

“It’s good. I think that this new position is more exciting for her than it is for me.”

“I’m sure.”

“What about you? I know that you stopped your travels to come and see me graduate, again. Have any plans on leaving anytime soon?”

“As much as I have enjoyed traveling around the world and doing art, I think I need to stop and stay here. Ma needs me right now and I’ve been thinking about finally starting college.”

“You don’t have to stay here for Ma. I’ve got her.”

“I know. But she needs both of us.”

Tony nodded. “Hey,” he shoved Steve playfully with his shoulder, “maybe you’ll actually be able to find a girl.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“What? Did have feelings for that fling you had in London? What was her name—“

“Peggy.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Right! Peggy.”

“No. She wanted to focus on her career and I was just getting started with my travels.”

“Good then you have a fresh slate. Maybe I will need to throw a party or two to get your out there.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. “I did miss you, Tony. I really did.”

“I missed you too.”

~~~

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

You took a deep breath as you pulled up to your new apartment complex. You stared at it as a mix of excitement and nerves raged in your stomach. This was the next chapter of your life, living with a roommate and going to college. When you finally got out of the car, you grabbed a few of your bags and headed into the complex. The elevator ride made your nerves worse. Your thoughts raced with worries about college, your apartment, and your roommate. You slowly exited the elevator and made your way to your apartment door. Taking another deep breath, you knocked on it. You heard strong footsteps before the door swung open revealing a clearly strong guy with shoulder length, brown hair.

“Oh, I… I thought this was my new apartment,” you quickly said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“You must be Y/N,” the guy smirked.

“Uh, yes…”

“Then this is your place,” he opened the door wider. “Natasha! Your new roomie is here!” He easily took the bags from you without a second thought. “Come in.”

You nervously walked in. A fiery redhead rushed around the corner, exiting the hallway. Her smile grew at the sight of you.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greeted. “I’m Natasha, and this is my boyfriend, Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you responded with a smile.

“Is this everything you brought?”

“No, I have more down in my car.”

“Give Buck your keys and he’ll run down and grab everything.”

You looked at Bucky, not wanting to overstep. “Are you sure?”

“I’d be happy to help,” he responded, holding out his hand for your keys. You gave them to him. “I’ll be right back.” Then he left to grab the rest of your things.

“Don’t worry about him,” Natasha said.

Your brows pinched in curiosity. “Huh?”

“In case you were worried, Bucky doesn’t live here with us. It will just be us two. Bucky lives across the hall with his own roommate.”

“Oh.” You nodded.

“Come one,” Natasha took your hand. “Let me show you around.”

~~~

Natasha showed you around your new place as Bucky grabbed the rest of your things. Bucky left for work soon after, so you and Natasha unpacked your things and got you settled into your new home. Once Natasha went to her room for the night, you fell back on your bed. Despite all the worries and unknowns, a smile grew across your face. You couldn’t help but think that this was the start of something wonderful.

Notes: Please read this post linked here my dears!

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TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel fanfiction #Marvel AU #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader

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