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#nothing added (except maybe lemon)
kaylas-world-0 · 30 days
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What about a one-shot or just a suggestive story where Shadow takes advantage of y/n?
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A/n: I'm probably gonna get all the fans' attention with this one huh? I normally don't write anyone but Tails but I am making an expection for some reason today. Have a good read I guess! Idk why I write what I write today XD Sorry for the long wait.
I left you guys in a cliffhanger. hah! idk if I would continue tho
Masterlist
Pairings: Shadow x Reader
They/them // She/her // He/him // Other
Summery; Eggman made a new weapon out of Shadow. Let's see what it is
Warnings: smut, lemon, suggestive themes, blood, marking, biting, tearing flesh, attempted rape
Word Count: 1371
Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?
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As your eyes flickered over him in fear, you were instantly struck by the sharp and scary aura emanating from his breathtaking violet eyes. Shadow stood before you, his chest heaving rapidly as if he had just completed a long and demanding marathon. His fur was damp, drenched in sweat, and his claws peeked out menacingly from his gloves. His fangs were visible, adding to the unnerving sight that confronted you. But what puzzled you most was the absence of any evidentiary explanation for his condition, except for one haunting phrase that echoed in your mind.
"What do you think is the most natural instinct of an animal, the most wild and scary one?" Eggman's voice resonated in your head, reminding you of his words moments ago. "Their bloodlust? Hunger to stay alive? Maybe. But there is something else that is much *more* dangerous and entertaining. 'The will to do anything to death for their mate.' "
The memory of Eggman's sinister revelation half an hour ago flooded your mind. You hadn't expected this game of catch to turn into something so disturbing. Though you had managed to catch your breath, your heart still raced uncontrollably, struggling to make sense of the unsettling situation unfolding before you.
Your eyes widened in fear as Shadow took deliberate steps toward you, raising the possibility of him falling victim to Eggman's trap, turning against his friends. A sense of terror gripped you, leaving you feeling trapped with no way to escape. Desperately, you scanned your surroundings, searching for an exit, but found nothing. You found yourself backed into a dead end.
"And to mate, of course." Your throat tightened as you heard Eggman's words reverberating in your mind. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—Shadow was hungry, thirsty for you. Eggman's twisted plans had successfully turned him, and now the true extent of Shadow' instincts became clear. No, this couldn't be true. Shadow wouldn't do this to you, would he? The shocking dishonor of Eggman's manipulation left you bewildered, unable to fathom the torment inflicted upon your friends.
"C-come on, Shadow. This isn't you," you started nervously, your voice shaking. "We both know that you don't wanna do this. Behave yourself! Think logically, like you always do! We're still in Eggman's base. He's playing with you, with your mind, your instincts! You are the ultimate life form, damn it! You can't just succumb to Eggman like that! There are Badniks running around, and if they find us, we're finished-"
Your plea was interrupted as Shadow forcefully pinned both his hands beside your head, a whimper left your lips in fear. A deep snarl escaping his lips as you attempted to slide away. Trapped between him and the wall, you realized the extent of his transformation. No longer the loyal companion you once knew, he approached you with predatory purpose, garnered by one sole instinct—breeding. You were left with a terrifying decision. Would you become the first to fall at his hands before the Badniks got to you?
After examining his prey's frightened face for a while, Shadow slowly lowered himself, his nose skimming along your neck. His actions mirrored those of a true animal, inhaling your scent as his salivating mouth revealed his primal desire for your presence. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the horrifying nature of the situation.
Attempting to muster the strength to push him away, you fought against his grip, but his strength surpassed anything you could have imagined. Like an iron vice, his grasp held firm, rendering your efforts fruitless. In spite of the predicament you found yourself in, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by Shadow' well-built form, his muscles flexing in the most hypnotic manner.
You quickly shook away such distracting thoughts, forcing yourself to concentrate on finding a way out of this nightmare. Every fiber of your being screamed for escape as Shadow began to suckle at your neck and shoulder, exhaling his hot breath in sporadic bursts. The sounds he made only served to further ignite the blazing heat that reddened your face, flooding you with a mix of desire and terror.
Suppressing a moan, you desperately struggled to redirect your focus, your mind racing for an escape plan. Yet, how could you concentrate on anything other than the overpowering dominance Shadow exhibited? Pressed against the wall by his scorching body, each breath and moan he emitted only served to remind you of the pleasure he was experiencing.
Amidst his sloppy kisses and teasing nibbles, you fought fiercely against the sensations threatening to consume you, trying to maintain your composure. However, as Shadow momentarily eased the pressure of his body against yours, he replaced it with his leg pressed against your groin, effectively preventing any escape. The mix of pain and pleasure elicited a whine from your lips, pushing Shadow to suckle at your shoulder with renewed vigor.
Finally, he got bored and withdrew from his sloppy territory. The room grew suffocatingly silent as he moved his fangs along your throat, gently biting a few places, feeling your heartbeat increasing. He licked his lips and shifted his attention to your other shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and sucking hungrily, leaving little marks. But it seemed like that wasn't enough for him anymore; he growled, as if yearning for something more primal.
With his fingers deeply entwined in your hair, he pulled, causing you to gasp, displaying your neck like a plate of meal to him. Without warning, he sank his teeth into your shoulder, his fangs piercing through your skin. Tears slipped from your eyes as you cried out in pain. He let your arms go and held you tightly from your waist, as you gripped his back for support. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth, and unwillingly scratched his back in pain. It felt as though his teeth were digging deeper into your shoulder, testing your limits.
Shadow let out a pleasured sigh through his nose, not yet satisfied. He continued biting harder than before, his eyes closed as he let out an animalistic growl. The realization that he could break your neck in half if he wanted sent a shiver through your spine. He sucked your blood with such thirst leaving you weak as you sobbed silently, drinking and swallowing it all as if he hadn't had a drop in weeks.
Before things grew any wilder, he pulled back, a string of blood and saliva still connecting the two of you. Panting for air, he tried to lick all the blood flowing from his mouth with his tongue, his breath hot against your face. Your blood flowed from your shoulder to your chest.
Satisfied with the mark he left on you, Shadow now went for your lips. Gripping your form, he forced his lips onto yours, connecting them. You hesitated, not wanting to taste the disgusting blend of your blood and his saliva. He pulled your hair once again, and when you whimpered in pain, he immediately seized the opportunity and engaged in a fierce kiss, taking your breath away.
Your heart raced as his hand wandered across your body in a manner both unnerving and inquisitive. He marked his territory, staking claim to every inch of your being. Your mind battled to comprehend the situation, as your body responded to his predatory touch.
Fighting the rising panic, you summoned your inner strength you managed to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt to distract him. As your lips collided in a feverish kiss, you hoped to manipulate the situation to your advantage.
To your surprise, he welcomed your advances. He tilted his head, letting out a low, carnal moan. Sensing that this could be your one chance to regain control, you decided to play along. You pushed aside your feelings of self-disgust and harnessed your newfound determination.
As you passionately kissed, your mind churned, searching for an escape plan. With each stolen moment, you became acutely aware of his animalistic nature, his primal desires, and his desperate need to assert dominance. Yet, instead of submitting to the imminent danger, an idea began to form in your mind.
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nekassvariigs · 1 year
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"This one's reserved"
SFW , Fluff.
crocodile x reader
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You always wondered why he never put rings on that finger, he'd always wear the flashiest diamonds and most intricate exspensive golds on his hands however solely refused to take up space on his hand.
He likes looking exspensive so why didnt he add another?
"Could it be?" The thought flashed your mind. Maybe he leaves it bare because hes reserving it for a wedding ring.. You thought.
Its the right hand and the right finger is he really that type of man? To hold him in high enough proper standarts to avoid using jewlery for that purpose alone. The thought made you blush a little.
"How modest of him.." you giggled.
"What is?" A voice from the shadows erupted, gleaming brown eyes reflecting sunlight.
"Oh nothing.." you kept smiling.
"Go on i'm waiting." He waited, stepping out of the shadows he leaned back in his chair white smoke lingering from his cigar.
"I don't think youre interested in old fashion modesty, are you?" You leaned on the table beside him scooting over some of his papers.
"Who knows, is this the reason youre acting like a school girl?" His answer was as dry as sand.
"Not really no." You lied looking at the way he puffed his cigar. Every finger coated in gold except one huh.
"In any case get off the table i have work to do." He demanded making you push yourself off the wodden desk.
Not to assume but was he avoiding your questioning?
You smiled to yourself for the last time nearing his door until you stopped. He didnt ask you to leave like he usually does, you dared to test your limits trying to overstay your welcome you headed for the large bookshelf grabbing out a book.
Crocodiles eyes followed you slowly watching what youre doing, not like he cared but somehow it was nice to have company for once. He thought.
You knew how dismissive and heardheaded this man was, how little he trusted those around him and not to mention how hard was it to even begin to make him talk to you like two proper adults not wanting to kill eachother.
You flipped the book on its back reading the introduction of it then you pried open the first page starting to read.
A while passed eventually Crocodile butted out his cigar cutting it with a neat machine for another use.
Some time passed as you were now on the fiftieth page of the book enticed in the story it told, until you looked over his direction. He was sitting silently filing out paperwork ,somehow he looked a little at peace, not guarded a bit relaxed. It was a refershing sight.
You gently smiled at the view and with a poof your book came to a close. You didnt want to disturb him so you got up quietly putting the book back ,your feet nearing the door out of his office.
In the back of your head you could feel a gaze, he was eyeing you again. The question seemed to bother him a little.
You opened the door and before he got to annoy you more with his dry and uninformative answers you headed out.
You made your way to the kitchen many floors below his office, asking the chefs at his casino for some hot water and tea.
"Whats the occasion las'?" The cook asked unusual of you to order anything here.
"Oh you know, showing some courtesy to the big bad man."
"Hmm i see, take this in that case.
He offered you a small bag filled with crumpled up leaves no doubt tea, with a bit of a crunch you opened it, nose filling with the scent of ginger and florals.
"Do you mind if i get some utensils and hot water with it?"
"Not at all, here you go kid." the man replied offering you a nice tray with some sugar lemon and a tiny flower in an even tinier vase.
"How cute.." you observed the little flower.
"Think he's the type to care for flowers?"
"Dont think so, but if you are keep the water changed every few days, should bloom beautifully." he added trying not to talk about his boss all too much.
The flower was maybe a bit bigger than a timy rock, a very floral white it had for petals, you wanted to nurture it and see it bloom.
Making your way back into his office you put down the tray on the book-table the tiny flower dangling in the middle of it.
"Care for some tea?" You offered politley. Hearing nothing.
Back to his old self again?
Crocodile was so much in the zone he actually didnt even notice you entering as this was a very important contract he had to decide on, he was wondering about expanding the casino buisness for a while now however not in the same town or country.
You poured yourself two cups of tea the aroma of ginger filling the air around you. You placed a few sliced of lemon on the side of the cupholder and a pair of sugar cubes, not knowing how he likes his tea you prepared for the occasion anyway.
"Thanks." He kept reading the contract.
You paused for a second, giving the authorative male a quick glance, he wasn't even focused on his surroundings he spaced out so much that he of all people thanked for tea from you.
You slightly chuckled daring to press your hand against his shoulder before walking off a second time.
He felt the warmth on his side however still too distracted with the contract to care.
"In order of offering our land in the country of-" he stopped focusing. He had been reading far too much and all these logistics were making his brain aggitated. He lit the cigar taking the cup in hand didnt bother with sugar or lemon. He admired the taste afterall he picked it for the mènu.
"I wouldnt call it modesty," He exhaled a cloud of weak smoke, "This one's reserved for something better than gaudy jewelry."
"Theres something better than gold for you?" you piqued not expecting him to start talking about feelings what so ever.
"Mm." his voice rumbled deep in his chest, it was interesting how little yet how much he can exspose you to his inner world.
You smiled understandingly, "Cheers to that." You drank in odd silence, Crocodile held something back that day.
- 5 days later -
You had taken care of the flower everyday watering it putting it in shade and in the sun making sure to relish the hard work and consistency you gave it.
Ah if only work could be this easy.
Thankfully your errands dropped before you had the chance to start them, you didnt ask about it either, happily taking the day off.
It was around midday, you were busy continuing the book and all of a sudden the sound of metal on wood alerted you, something fell..
You got up to check, still rolling right under the beautifully bloomed flower layed a slim gold ring.
Your eyes wide as how it got in the room in the first place you picked it up setting it on your finger for experimentation. It fit at best your middle finger however once switching one over it slided on perfectly not willing to budge.
"Hmm, this is nice." you liked how it looked, chique but extrordinary something about it made you like it more and more.
Few knocks and no wait for an answer the door opened the tall figure welcoming himself in.
"Anything wrong?" you asked him.
"No, simply sweeping the perimiter, i seem to have lost something." he looked at you.
"?" you stared stupidly at him.
"Maybe it was this?" You showed you hand to him the golden ring sitting on your ring finger perfectly.
"Got married or are you just bragging?"
Your face flushed. "W-What neither i just found this thing in my room."
He hummed staring at you, hand reaching for his cigar you noticed the spot on his hand that was empty a few days before was now enticed in a simple thick wedding band.
"Youre joking right?" you were shocked.
"What."
"Well hello something better than gold? but its there anyway."
"It's different." He calmly stated taking your hand in his, he kissed your knuckle leaving you speachless.
"This one is for you and me."
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kristinamae093 · 11 months
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A Wild Ride
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Series - TRR - AU
Pairing - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)
Summary - A small rewrite of the diamond scene from Book 1 Chapter 11 (Drake’s birthday) and… beyond.
Word Count - 2503... ish 🙈
A/N1- Welcome to my first attempt at smut. Nobody asked for this, this is entirely unprompted and unasked for (except by me haha). This is just where my brain went, and well... don’t judge me too hard lolololololololol. I’ve debated posting this all week, but I’m finally going to relent and just do it and most likely hide forever. But I have to shoutout @ao719 who encouraged me, and read through my first draft. 💚 All errors in this final version are mine and mine alone.
A/N2- I am considering this a part of the Ghosted AU, but only for ONE reason, and that is to put it on the same masterlist. But this is a ONE SHOT and DOES NOT ADD TO NOR CONTRIBUTE TO THE STORY WHATSOEVER. This is literally just an excuse to try my hand at lemony writing, nothing more. 
A/N3- This is my sad attempt at a submission for the @springfeverpitch event. I have no idea if this even qualifies, but they said anything smutty, soooo…... I’m going to test that theory with this, LOLOLOL. I have no idea what 'day' it qualifies under, (4?) I’m honestly not even sure what this monstrosity should classify as. 🤣🙈🙊
Base in play - Briefly First, but mostly Homerun ⚾💭🫡
TW - ⚠️ NSFW ⚠️ - Language, smutty filthy lemons, brief mentions of blood (.3 seconds worth). *⚠️ 18+ ONLY ⚠️*
Characters belong to Pixelberry.
Liam watched Riley as if she would give him the answers to all the world’s problems at any moment; she fully transfixed him. When he paid the operator of the bull, he assumed Drake would ride, since it was his birthday. But when Riley volunteered and bounced her way over, Liam knew already he was done for; the second she mounted that bull, he felt himself grow undeniably hard.
He observed with the utmost attention. The way her hips swiveled to keep in time with the jerky motions of the bull, the way her big, perky chest bounced from side to side as she tried to stay on the ride. She threw an arm back like a lasso; her cut off shirt hiking higher and higher up her toned midriff. He caught sight of her lacy red bra underneath, the sight practically enough to make him take her, here and now, for all to see. Everything about it was driving him mad with desire. 
At that moment, he would have cut off his right leg to trade spaces with the foreign object she rode. Give up the throne, throw everything away, all for her to tame him as if he were the rowdy steed beneath her. His mind swirled with fantasies as the saliva from his mouth fully dissolved.
When she flew off the bull, he was right there to help her up; after he had adjusted himself in his slacks. The two grabbed a shot, then another, and a couple more, adding to the already large amount of alcohol they had consumed. They finally made their way out to the dancefloor after way too many drinks.
It started slow and casual, nothing scandalous or arousing, although the chemistry between them made anything sensual. Then a particular song came on; Liam had never heard it, but the squeal that came from Riley and her excited bouncing told him she was familiar. He felt his cock stiffen a little more in the confines of his trousers as he watched her breasts bob up and down while she jumped; maybe it was the alcohol fueling his thoughts, but he couldn’t get the image of those tits bouncing in his face out of his mind. 
They danced face to face; Riley attempted to keep a respectable distance between them, as she knew they were in public. The court would not react well to them grinding all over each other. But Liam didn’t seem to have a care in the world, as he continued to pull her closer and closer. His gaze switched between gawking at her enormous bust poking out of her low cut top, and the way her hips swiveled and rotated to the rhythm. His hands probed her body, as if he needed to remember every crevice and curve. 
She swatted his roaming hands away. “What are you doing? We’re in public!” She giggled. 
Liam nuzzled her neck. “Don’t care.” 
Riley laughed harder. “Liam, what if someone sees us? Or you get recognized?”
“Let them watch.” He responded with a devilish smirk.
“I’m just saying the press would-”
Liam cut her off by capturing her lips with his own. Their tongues rolled together as they swallowed each other’s content sighs. One of Liam’s hands rested on her neck, the other falling to the small of her back and pulling her as close as possible. Their pelvises ground together, each letting out a soft moan at the friction. Neither cared at the crowd of other dancers surrounding them; the only thing that mattered was the two of them, and the undeniable sexual tension that seemed to have reached its boiling point. 
—-------
Liam returned to his suite, a little wobbly on his feet, and immediately went to take a cold shower. His mind continued to swirl with scandalous thoughts about Riley and the things he wanted her to do to him, and vice versa. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to invite her back and ravage her like he truly wanted to. But he realized there was a high probability the pair would get caught sneaking around, and that would only cause more problems in the long run. And, he didn’t want to be this drunk when it did happen. 
He finished his shower and put on a clean pair of boxers and pajama pants before he slipped into bed, pulling up the covers to envelop his body. He lay on his back and fell into a deep slumber as fantasies of Riley filled his mind. 
—-------
He awoke later with his senses filled by a fragrance of lilac and berry. He felt dainty hands lightly tracing the inside of his thighs, sending a shudder through him. A sigh escaped him as he felt tender kisses travel up his abdomen, soft hair falling to tickle his sides. He reached a hand out and threaded his fingers through long, silky, golden blonde hair as she continued her venture up to his neck. 
When she reached her quarry, she bit down hard enough to leave a mark and licked the affected area. She dotted kisses along his jawline to the other side and nipped his ear; Liam groaned and gripped her hips to grind her against his already freed erection. He had no time to ponder how he became disrobed, as he felt wetness gliding over his already aching member; she wasn’t wearing panties. 
“Riley…” He moaned. 
She raised her face to hover over Liam’s, “I saw you…” she whispered as she ghosted her lips over his. 
“Hm?”
“You were watching me ride that bull tonight… Wishing it was you… weren’t you?” She asked in between bites along his jawline.
“God yes.” Liam panted.
Riley’s face lit up with a cat-like grin before she grabbed his face to bring his lips to hers. Their tongues met and battled for dominance in a fit of passionate and desperate kisses. Liam slid his hands up her sides and realized she, too, was already naked. He massaged both of her large, supple breasts in his hands before breaking their kiss and bending his neck to take one into his mouth. He licked and suckled at it for a moment before moving to the other and showing it the same attention. After, he briefly lay back and marveled at her perfection, and those breasts that had been making his mouth water all night dangling in front of his face; just like he fantasized. 
Riley sat up, and he met her intent, lustrous gaze; her eyes clouded over with desire, hair askew, perky tits rising and falling with every labored breath, lips slightly parted. Liam watched, transfixed, as she ran her tongue over her top lip, and he thought he would cum on the spot. Liam reached out to embrace her and forcefully brought her lips to his; his dick painfully throbbing, aching to be inside her. 
She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled, the sudden, sharp pain causing Liam to moan. “You like that?” She whispered as she bit his lip. 
“Yes.” He breathed out, as he grabbed her ass cheeks in both hands and squeezed. She ground her bare mound against him and an animalistic sound escaped Liam’s lips.
“Tell me what you want, Liam…” she coaxed as she sat up and positioned herself with her dripping pussy over Liam’s cock. She rubbed herself against Liam’s shaft, her hand pushing him deeper through her wet folds. She ground back and forth on his length, driving Liam absolutely mad.
“You. I want you, Riley. Please.” He begged.
“No… Tell me what you want… Exactly what you want.” She slightly raised herself and let his tip ghost her opening, before she slid him back through the entirety of her core. 
Liam gasped and twitched beneath her. The things she was making him feel were overwhelming every single part of his being. “I… I…” He stammered between breathless pants and moans. “I want you to ride me.” He finally spit out. 
She bit her lip and whispered, “Your wish is my command.” and lowered herself down onto him, both moaning at the sensation as he penetrated her tight opening. Her mouth fell open into an O shape, a high-pitched whine coming from her throat, as she sunk her body down on his length. Liam’s eyes never left her face as her tightness enveloped him, taking him to such a high level of euphoria he thought he would die at any moment. She rocked herself slowly back and forth on his cock, feeling him stretch and fill her in all the right ways.
“Oooooh… God, you’re so fucking big Liam!” Liam felt his dick twitch at her words and ran his hands up her sides to massage her breasts in his hands. She placed her hands against his chest, pushing her tits together as she started bouncing herself on his length. He analyzed her with rapt attention, her expressions, the sounds she was making. Liam released his hold on her and put his hands behind his head as he watched her work herself on him with a deep groan.
She picked up speed and ran both of her hands through her hair. Liam watched where they connected, seeing her pussy grip around him, the proof of her arousal covering his member and thighs. He looked up and saw her massaging her breasts with a lust blown expression; she saw him staring and bit her lip with a loud moan, causing him to whimper from the sight. 
Just when Liam thought he couldn’t take anymore, she sat back and positioned herself with her hands on his haunches, giving him the perfect view of her taking all of him in. She started slowly, but soon built a mind-blowing pace, taking him almost all the way out before slamming her hips back into his. Liam heard her whimpers increase in pitch and knew her release was coming. He felt his own building but was determined to make her let go first. 
“Oooooh God… Oh! Don’t stop… Don’t fucking stop!" she cried out as their already frantic pace increased. She reached a hand down and wildly rubbed circles over her swollen nub. Liam clutched her hips with a white-knuckle grip and increased their speed, hammering himself into her relentlessly. He matched her rhythm perfectly, thrusting himself to meet her hips. She threw her head back with a loud shriek; her tightness pulsating around him, wetness coating his already glistening member as waves of pleasure overtook her. 
“Yes! God... YES! Liam… You fuck me so good!” She got out through gasps and whimpers as jolts of electricity continued to course through her. 
Between her clenching around him and the things she was saying, Liam was a goner. He thrust into her three, four, five more times until he pulled her down forcefully to receive his load with a loud, primal roar. His vision almost completely blacked out, stars invading his view. He had orgasms before, sure, but it was like his soul was leaving his body. It was so intense, so powerful and all-consuming, like nothing he had ever felt before. 
Liam lay with his eyes closed for a couple of minutes, catching his breath. He felt Riley grasp his hand and opened his eyes to look at her as she remained straddling him. She brought his hand to her lips and smiled before she tenderly kissed each one of his fingertips. 
Liam closed his eyes once more and let out a content sigh. Somehow, someway, the evening ended as he hoped it would; all was right with the universe at that exact moment. 
His peace was short-lived as he suddenly felt a sharp pain course through his index finger. 
“Ow!” He cried. “Did… did you bite me, Riley?”
“You liked it a minute ago.” She smirked.
“That was different. This felt like you were trying to take a chunk out of my finger!” 
She giggled, “You just… you smell so good… so… sweet… like nuts… and honey…” she replied as she turned her head and deeply inhaled his palm. 
Liam furrowed his brow. “Oh… um… thank you?” He responded with uncertainty. 
“You just smell so… heavenly… and... mouthwatering…” she mewled as she licked his palm. 
"I do?" Liam asked, completely confused by her sudden shift in behavior. 
"Mmhhmmm."
“Like… like what?”  
“Baklava.” She said as she chomped Liam’s thumb. 
“Hey! Riley, that… that hurts!” He tried to pull his hand away, but Riley’s grip tightened. 
“But I bet you taste soooo good, Liam! I just wanna eat you up.” She started gnawing on his wrist, biting harder and harder; he swore she was breaking his skin. 
“Riley! Riley! Stop!” He yelled as he squirmed underneath her, but she would not relent. He felt a sharp, piercing pain in his arm and watched in horror as she tore a piece of flesh from his body; blood squirting from the open wound and covering the both of them. 
She thoroughly chewed his flesh with a satisfied smile before she went back for more. “Mmm…. sho good.” She rolled her eyes as she swallowed another chunk of skin. She slurped at the blood that surrounded her mouth before she returned to his wound, lapping at it like a deprived dog finally given water. 
“Riley! Riley! Stop! STOOOOOOOP!”
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Liam flew forward in a panic; his breathing rapid and labored, his elevated pulse thundering in his ears, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. He frantically searched his darkened surroundings, looking to see if Riley was still there, but found no signs of anyone. 
He glanced down at his body and saw absolutely nothing; no marks, cuts, blood, or any signs of injury. He quickly pulled the blanket back and saw his pajama pants, just as they were when he had gone to bed.
Bastien heard Liam’s yells from his position outside and barged into the room. “Is something wrong, sir?”
“I…I don’t think so…” Liam answered unsurely as he rubbed his uninjured wrist. “Has… has anyone come in here?”
“No, sir. I’ve been outside your door since you arrived. Nobody has been here.” Bastien reassured him. “Why? Do you believe there’s been a breach?”
“No! No. Nothing like that. I was only asking. Thank you, Bastien.”
Bastien bowed with a bewildered expression, but left the room. As soon as he did, Liam stood up and made a quick dash to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror. 
He searched his reflection with intent; Liam saw that his neck and upper body were pristine and unmarked, no signs of the late-night fornication to be found. He checked other areas of his body, but no remnants of his wild encounter remained. He ran his hand through his lightly tousled hair and stared at his reflection for a long while, trying to make sense of what he could have just experienced.
He shook his head with a quiet laugh before he said, “I am never drinking tequila before bed again.”
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sarcastic-trash · 2 years
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TBHK Characters + What I Think They're Insecure Of
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This is strictly headcanons and I'll definitely project onto some characters (I'll give you guys a note of which ones). Nene's and Mitsuba's is canon though with a bit added on.
Yashiro Nene
Her ankles are a canon insecurity but, I also think she'd be insecure of her legs in general - not just her ankles. Her calves, thighs, and ankles are all things she is insecure of herself. At one point I believe she was insecure about having a smaller chest but, she realized that big boobs aren't exactly the norm. All sizes exist.
Yugi Amane - Hanako
Personally I think Hanako has a decent amount of confidence. However, I think he's insecure about his height. He has a crush on Nene as we all know and Nene typically likes taller guys (*cough* Teru *cough*). I think he's always had this insecurity but, it heightened when he saw who Nene liked.
Minamoto Kou
I feel he's insecure about whether he's helpful enough. Let's be honest, Kou looks up to Teru and they do look similar except Kou looks obviously younger. So, I feel Kou is comfortable with his looks enough to not consider himself ugly. I just think he has an insecurity of if he's helpful enough or if he's a good friend.
Mitsuba Sousoke
He was canonically insecure of his personality at one point (pfft same dude) - I believe. I feel like Mitsuba likes how he looks but, is also insecure that he's too "girly". I feel he's fairly confident in his looks other than that. He comes to realize he likes his androgyny.
Yugi Tsukasa
He's actually so hard to think of an insecurity for. If I had to pick one I'd say he's insecure about his clinginess. He seems so careless about how touchy he can be but, I feel secretly he may feel like it's annoying. I don't know - Tsukasa is such a hard character for me to pin point an insecurity for.
[UPDATE: An anonymous user submitted their thoughts on Tsukasa's insecurity. Link here.
Natsuhiko Hyuuga
I feel like he's insecure about being too clingy as well. While he's insecure about that, he's also insecure that if he's too distant people will think he doesn't like them.
Sakura Nanamine
I honestly don't know! I love her character design and everything so it's hard for me to think of anything. I'll say maybe she's insecure about herself in general. It's nothing specific really - she doesn't talk about herself a lot or really talk much at all. Maybe she's not fully confident in how she appears to others - looks or otherwise.
Aoi Akane
She wears a whole ass fake persona so she's probably insecure about her personality. I feel like thats a given. I also think she's insecure about her family and home life - this is definitely projection by the way. Since she wears a fake persona, it makes me think there's stuff at home going on. I know from experience when your going through things you adopt a fake personality to display to others.
She gives me that vibe.
Akane Aoi
I think he's insecure about his self worth (self projection lol) due to multiple rejections over the course of many years. He's had to feel worthless at one point or another. Anyone would have likely felt that way, getting rejection after rejection since their first year of middle school. I think after the whole supernatural bullshit, he was probably insecure about that - given his hatred for supernaturals.
Minamoto Teru
So I saw a headcanon that like Kou and Tiara, he has fangs too. He's just insecure of them and I actually really like that. I also think he's slightly insecure about his own personality as well (self projection except I'm not popular lmao). He's known as Mr. Perfect yet, his personality is so unlikeable? That would make even the most shameless individual insecure.
Yamabuki Lemon
I'm gonna try to think of one for Lemon cause I wanna include him. So, I'd say he's insecure of his interests. Lemon is iconically seen face in his phone - always, without fail. I think him having an insecurity about his interest could explain that and his lack of interaction with others.
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im-no-jedi · 1 year
Text
the (true) problem with the TBB season 2 finale
the more I’ve been thinking on it and pondering wtf happened and why the fandom is reacting the way that it is, I’ve come to a conclusion about the season finale that I think explains it all.
over the years, I’ve been able to train myself to separate my personal opinions from things and look at them from an artistic perspective, despite the subject matter. things like blood and gore - although they still gross me out - aren’t as bothersome to me since taking theater classes in college and learning the science of how things like that are done in media. I’m able to look at things and critique them artistically as opposed to with pure emotion.
while I do still react on pure emotion (as some of y’all witnessed last Wednesday 😝), I also try to look back on things with that artistic perspective in mind. which is what I’ve been doing with The Summit and Plan 99. and while I can appreciate everything that happened artistically and dub each individual thing that happened as nothing short of a masterpiece, there’s one major issue that I realized right from the start that has been solidified now for me more than ever.
it was way too much content.
I’ve said already that I thought The Summit was done really, really well. the pacing was good, and it felt like the high-stakes TBB episodes we’re used to. but then Plan 99 hit. and golly gee, did it hit hard.
pardon the comparison, but everything that happened in Plan 99 was a literal train-wreck. Tech’s sacrifice. everyone getting injured. Cid’s betrayal. the Empire invading Ord Mantell. Hemlock capturing Omega. Crosshair and other Clones being experimented on. Emerie’s reveal of her true identity. and to top it all off, it ended on a cliffhanger.
that.... is WAY too much to absorb in one episode. like... waaaaaaaaay too much.
let’s just look at the fandom itself as an example. what’s everybody focused on right now more than anything else? Tech’s sacrifice. that in of itself is the hardest hitter here, by far. that alone was enough to carry the finale in terms of emotional intensity. but no, it didn’t stop there.
the team came out of the whole thing battered and bruised, with Omega seemingly taking the hardest hit. not too terrible, it’s happened before, like when Omega got taken by Cad Bane right after the whole Bracca endeavor. but here’s the thing. they barely had time to even grieve the loss of Tech before the Empire showed up on Ord Mantell. adding that plot point in so soon after losing Tech was literal lemon juice on our open wounds.
and then they had the gall to slap us in the face with everything on Mount Tantiss. do you know I’ve seen literally NOBODY talking about Emerie? we literally got confirmation of another female Clone, and NOBODY is talking about it???
this is what I mean. individually, on their own, these plot points are good and were done well imo. but geez louise, I felt like I went through a Super Saiyan fight having all of that thrown at me in one single episode. I feel like even if something like Tech’s sacrifice had been put at the end of The Summit as opposed to Plan 99, it might’ve alleviated things just a tad. still would’ve been too much though.
I’ve been absolutely blown away by every story choice made this season. I feel that way about the entire show, honestly. but I also think the finale was a misstep, solely in terms of the amount of content shown. I feel like this should’ve been the opener for season 3 as opposed to the end of season 2. at least have Omega getting captured be put off until then. cause right now, despite Omega being one of my favorite characters, I’m also still more focused on what happened to Tech more than anything else! and don’t even get me started on the Emerie thing, good GRIEF 🙄
again, individually, these plot points are GOOD. very good imo (except maybe the Emerie thing but I digress 😝). but man... why did we have to get them all at once. I remember, I literally stopped breathing at one point while watching Plan 99; that’s how bad it was. I was so overwhelmed and overstimulated and emotional that it was hard to even function. @jam-n-ham and I just sat in silence for like a full minute once the episode was over, unable to process what had even just happened. and well... I don’t necessarily count that as a good thing 😬
so yeah. all this to say, despite how good the individual plot points were in Plan 99, it was just far too much content for one episode. I think the whole thing with Ord Mantell and Mount Tantiss should’ve been held off for the beginning of season 3. because putting all of that immediately after the loss of Tech made it nearly impossible to even absorb properly as an audience. and the fandom’s reaction is proof of that.
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darkapples13 · 11 months
Text
This is a continuation of a previous post I did which I’m calling based off of @forgettingcrowbin idea where Nightmare takes in Palette
The Chronicals of Nightmare and Palette
Chapter 2: Dinner Time
When Palette woke up he wasn’t sure if what happened was actually real or if it was a very civid dream. But when he shifted around in a nice soft bed covered by a full blanket he was sure it wasn’t a dream anymore. He sat up and saw a gift box on the end of the bed.
He was cautious in opening it but when he did he was pleasantly surprised by the gift. It was from Killer and inside the Box was a new pair of clothes, a dark purple shirt with a green jacket, and a pair of black ripped jeans.
He put them on and walked out of his room only to find Horror about to knock on his door. “Oh heh Horror what’s up?” Palette asked. Horror smiled and took him to the dining room where breakfast was all set up.
Palette sat down and they all started to eat breakfast, but Horror made sure that Palette had enough to eat and maybe even a bit more than enough. Since it seemed that Palette didn’t want to take larger portion sizes than ones that would be meant for little kids. So the next few days Horror made sure to serve Palette serving sizes that fit him.
Eventually this became the entire routine for them and Horror would serve Palette the correct amount before letting the rest of breakfast continue. But other than breakfast time together nothing really happened with the others and Palette during the day.
Sure they maybe Interacted at lunch or dinner but rarely any time in between those meal times. Palette mainly stayed on his own in his room just drawing or reading one of the books Nightmare gave him. He tried to help out with chores a few times but it always ended up in confusion so he just stopped trying to help and stayed in his room most of the day.
But that changed when Nightmare and the others had to go on a mission and Palette was left home alone. So he decided to do the chores that weren’t already done and to make the most of the day. He cleaned the bathrooms, did the dishes, mowed the lawn, fixed up the training dummy’s etc. So that was mainly Palettes entire day except for when it came to the end of his cleaning spree.
Palette looked at the time and saw that it was almost 6:00 so he decided to make some dinner. Spaghetti carbonara to be exact, he made sure that they had all of the ingredients for it first and then started to cook. He chopped up the bacon, mushrooms, and zucchini. Then he made the sauce.
He boiled the pasta and put the cooked pasta into a separate pot of similar size. He added the sauce and the vegetables and the bacon into the pasta. He mixed it around and added cappers into the pasta, not too many but just enough to add a pop of flavor into the pasta dish.
He then set the stove on low heat to keep the pasta warm while he started to make a lemon pie and he used the left over egg whites from earlier to make the meringue. After the pie was done he popped it in the fridge and started to work on making some garlic bread.
He just made fancy garlic bread like the way you see it in restaurants and added a crap ton of cheese on top of it. He was just setting the garlic bread on the counter when he heard one of Nightmares portals open up. And when the others came into the kitchen and saw Palette they were at a loss for words.
“How did you do this..?” Horror asked as he looked at the spaghetti carbonara. Palette shrugged and stirred the pasta around. “I figured you guys would be hungry after your mission so I decided to cook after doing the chores.” Palette said simply. Palette served everyone a nice large portion of food, he even gave himself a decent portion much to Horrors delight.
After dinner Palette went to his room where he tried to go to sleep after a nice long day. But it was going to be one of the nights where his body wouldn’t let him sleep no matter how hard he tried. So he just laid there in the dark waiting for him to eventually drift to sleep.
About an hour later he still wasn’t falling asleep and Nightmare came in to check on him. “Why are you still awake child? It’s midnight and you should be sleeping after all of the work you did today.” Nightmare said as he flicked on the light. Palette shrugged and sat up feeling restless. “It’s just one of those nights where your brain feels like it’s never going to shut off.” Palette explained.
Nightmare left the room and came back 5 minutes later with a children’s book in hand. “You need to rest for tomorrow Palette so I’ll try this method that I do with dust sometimes.” Nightmare said plainly. Palette laid back down and watched as Nightmare flipped the book open to page one and started reading.
“One upon a time there was a fluffy bunny. This bunny liked to play games with his friends. One of his favorite games was hide and seek. But his friends had grown quite tired of this game navy’s they were never able to find him.” Nightmare read. “But maybe this time with your help you’ll be able to find fluffy bunny in his…” Nightmare kept going.
Palette slowly drifted to sleep as Nightmares voice gets slowly droned out more and more the longer he reads. Eventually Palette finally falls asleep and starts to lightly snore the exhaustion finally taking hold of his body.
Nightmare pats the child’s head and ticks him in making sure that Palette is fully covered with the soft blanket. He turns off the lights and utters a single “good night.” To Palette before he leaves and closes the door behind him making sure it was quiet as to not wake him.
And the only thought that crossed Palettes mind before drifting off to sleep was.
Maybe this is my home?
Drawing of the clothes Killer gave Palette at the beginning
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What if the AU boys swapped clothes and places with the recruiter boys without telling anyone as a prank? I like to think once things are back they realize something's up and happened while that happened, one of which I'll give to you
AU Boys' GFs (after the swap): Well, this is a shock
Mal/Jack/Joe/Vince: Hm? Me kissing you?
AU Boys' GFs: Yeah. I mean, you kind of spent last week not even kissing me let alone a make out session. You even looked away when I took a bath
Mal/Jack/Joe/Vince: *silently has new respect for the guys*
It was Au Jack’s idea, he wanted to see how many people they can trick and compare lives.
His brothers had weren't so sure about it, especially if their mom and grandma can sense if it wasn't them, but Jack waved them off and retorted that she won't say anything if it's in good nature. It took time but they agreed.
Since they basically look alike they don't need to change anything except for Apple, Malfie and Jack. Au Jack and Malachite managed to buy multiple washable tattoos replicating their own, but him and Vince had to pierce their counterparts ears.
"Are you two sure you know what your doing?" Apple questioned as he and Malfie laid down with ice cubes on their ears as they wait for Vince and Mal heat the needles. The rest were at the sides waiting.
"Relax, me and Vince pierce our friends ears as well as some family friends." Malachite reassured, finally sterilizing the needles.
"It's true, they're the ones who did Vera and Jane's ears." Dante added.
Malfie and Apple weren't convinced but they came this far.
"Now, on the count of three remove the ice cubes." Vince instructed with a lemon and needle in hand.
"1."
"2."
"3."
Screams were heard that day.
Once they were all given a brief lecture to do and what not do they were ready.
Dalmatia had pleasant time talking to Dante's mother at dinner, she didn't realize her son was switched which was good and now had to sit while the woman piled his plate and talking about her new project.
"Darling are they even feeding you in school? Here have more, you look too skinny. Also, after school you have to help get some new fabrics for fashion line that's coming up."
"Yes, mum."
"Hey brat, pass the sauce." Cece asked. There was pause with the four other males, wondering who was she talking too. Dinner with the Kemnohitos was something, for one most of the time they had to use chopsticks. They were thankful they were taught some Japanese etiquette before coming.
"Well? Jack?" That brought them back to life.
"Huh? Oh yeah, here sis." He gave her the small bowl. She raised an eyebrow at him but took it.
"Boys are you okay? You all have been acting strangely." The mother asked, concern in her eyes.
"We're fine mom, nothing to worry about." Malfie replied, trying to be as casual as possible.
"Maybe their girls have been blue balling them." Nadia snickered. Joe yelled in protest, that seemed to be normal cause she just stuck her tongue out to him.
The next morning the boys were woken up early by the girls, saying they had to work out. They thought nothing and thought it was like jogging or something like that.
They were so wrong.
It was a brutal combat exercise, where they had to not only train with sandbags on tied on their body and fight dummies, they had to spar with the girls who were just ruthless.
By the end of it they were on the ground sweating heavily.
Thankfully something like this was normal and they weren't questioned.
As they got their bags they noticed the girls were kissing the woman on the head and getting their heads patted by the grandmother, it felt weird doing it but it was nice.
So far so good.
Meanwhile the Kemonohito brothers and Dante were doing the best they can to not get notice by other recruits. In the hotel they stayed they had a gym which the brothers used for their daily exercised but were caught by Farja who immediately questioned them. It was hard to speak to someone who looked so much like their sister but Vince gave her an excuse about being more fit which was fine with her.
They tried they're best to act like their counterparts, but they can't help but slip.
Such as Au Joe and Vince braiding Farja's hair with flowers, Au Jack jumping on Ms. Hades' back and demanding a piggyback ride, Malachite kissing PS's forehead when she's upset and Dante buying take out and throwing it on Lady Hock's and Veil's faces thinking they would catch it.
While the girls thought they were being weird, Ms. Hades had sneaking suspicion.
With work however was another story, they came to their shows enough times to get what they're doing but in all honesty and respect to them, they found this a bit embarrassing.
But they tried to bear with it and by the third day they couldn't take it anymore.
So as everyone was getting ready for the show, the boys were preparing as well. Once the audience was in place they got started.
Everyone including the rest of the recruits and hosts were taken aback when music blasted through the speakers.
🎵Hey, hey, hey, hey Hey, hey, hey Hey, hey, hey, hey Hey, hey, hey🎵
Mr. V wanted scold them for doing such a stunt but he can't deny it was attracting a large crowd and everyone was loving it, including the other hosts.
The female recruits however had a nagging feeling when they saw the performance but didn't say anything cause it was working and confirming Ms. Hades' thoughts.
At the end of the song, the boys simply introduced themselves ad who they're villains were.
"So what do you think?" Malachite asked through the mike. "Is the villains world more alluring than the heroes?"
He received a chorus of multiple yes's. He grinned.
"Then join us in our world, where you can experience sin without consequence." He finished with a wink, earning multiple screaming fangirls.
Once the show was done, Mr. V came up to them with a frown.
"I want to be mad at you guys for doing this but since it was a major success and everyone loved it, continue."
The boys blinked at his words and slowly nodded. After that they went back to the hotel.
Ms. Hades came up to them, and gave Dante a piece of paper and left, curious they opened it.
'If we have to got our villains, be sure compose yourselves and do not slip' Was all it said. The boys froze but were on guard.
They preformed for four more days, getting more and more people to join and at the same time making Mr. V rich. (He began charging), until it as time to go to their villains.
Vince had to suffer the Evil Queen's vanity and give her compliments every thirty minutes and gather ingredients for her potions, which wasn't bad just tiring.
Malachite had to try his hardest on acting as Malfie, which was difficult itself. Maleficent kept looking at him oddly but said nothing.
Honestly nothing changed for Au Jack so kept acting like normal so the Queen of Hearts didn't notice anything. But sometimes he would use any long material as drumming sticks and drum, which caught the attention of the other soldiers but they said nothing nd thought he was letting out steam.
Au Joe had to use a potion to turn himself to an octopus, both amazed and scared him. Ursula barely noticed anything so he was good, except the eels who glared at him.
Dante was an amazing help to Cruella with her designs. She loved how each and everyone of them were so alien and yet stylish. Horace and Jasper didn't notice anything different.
So far none of the villains notice thing which eases them, well almost.
Jack, Joe, Vince and Mal had some anxiety hen they remembered that their other selves have to spend time with their gfs to not arouse suspicion. They were praying hard that they won't overstep any boundaries.
Once the week was over, the boys swapped clothes and went back to their respective homes and nothing seemed to change.
That was until they went back to school.
The brothers found their gfs by the school stairs and made a sneak attack to kiss them.
"Oh my, what a shock." Commented Elodie.
"What? Me kissing you?"
"Actually, all of you guys for like a week." Zuri replied.
????
Their girlfriends quickly dragged them away from their friends and sisters.
Stephanie explained that the boys were oddly chaste with them, refraining from kissing them and just accepted cuddles.
Misty added that Joe had look away when she showered.
Roxy admitted it was weird and missed the intimacy.
Meanwhile their bfs were giving the other guys silent respect.
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2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12, 13, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 26, 28, 28, 28, 28, 28
👍
2. coffee or tea
tea
3. favorite breakfast food
uuuh uh french toast??? chinese baozi too
5. how many houseplants do you have?
the ones in my room or the ones in our house? 3 in my room and at least 18 in the house
6. favorite flower
spider lily 👍
7. things that always make you smile
memes lmao bad jokes, funny quotes, wholesome fics n pics
9. favorite scent and why
vanilla or lemon? idk män smells like baking ig
12. tattoos or piercings on your wish list
way too many lmao
green dragon tattoo for my right arm/shoulder sun&moon tattoo for left shoulder line/wave thingy for left arm eye-tower thing behind my neck (y'know, the bone. spine bone behind the neck. the thing, bump when you look down. there.) small bat wings or something on my back more earrings idk män
13. what helps you fall asleep
nothing smh
19. the last thing that made you laugh out loud
fucking lightning mcqueen colourchanger ad
20. a skill you’d like to learn
fencing. or just whatever i can do with a sword. also art. better art.
21. what colour would you like to dye your hair
dark red/wine red?? kinda purplish red??? if you know kars from jjba then that colour. yes. also maybe dark purple.
23. a song that makes you feel powerful
NEON BLADE Raiden Shogun battle theme Funny Valentine theme
24. how was your day today?
meh, nothing special. i got to see a very pathetic frozen play at school tho. also my brother got the most hilarious slipper known to mankind when we went christmas food-shopping. the fucking lightning mcqueed colourchanger ad.
26. if you could be doing anything you like right now, what would you do?
i would either do art, play some video game or sleep.
28. what characteristics do you like about yourself?
hair & eyebrows 👍
28. what characteristics do you like about yourself?
uh. imagination. bro's come up with the wildest ideas known to mankind
28. what characteristics do you like about yourself?
uuh. hands. do good art & also kinda pretty ngl. could be better tho ig but its a work in progress
28. what characteristics do you like about yourself?
uuuh. uh. idk män im pretty good at talking/writing. except when im not but we dont talk about that. i have pretty funky insults and whatnot. im a menace lol
28. what characteristics do you like about yourself?
uuuuh. blood?? nice colour n taste kinda good??? idk män what do you want from me?? it keeps me alive to some degree i guess?????
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jin0 · 2 years
Text
THE EVE OF A CRUEL ANGEL'S THESIS
CHAPTER 2 : THE CLICHE OF THE DECEASED WIFE
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Pairing : Mafia!Stucky x Reader
Summary : After years of absence, you were thought to be dead. But here you were, alive and ready to take everything that was yours, or you'd die trying. And this time, you would take both of them with you.
Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minor DNI, canon level violence, mentions of murder, guns and blood, soft!dark, angst, fluff, trauma (mental and physical)
A/N : the fact that i deleted all dialogue except one sentence to make it more emo ?? i have no business being this dramatic
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The habit taken by both the mobsters over the five years of your absence all had something to do with you. Some believed that part of the grieving process meant getting back to normal, living as they used to but slowly incorporating small acts and element that reminded of the person they’d lost. They would slowly built their lives over the debris of their destroyed hearts, changing everything in their daily lives to mimic your presence. It was all fake, all of it, but it felt good.
For Steve and Bucky it was the same.
They slowly added elements of you into their lives, even more than what they had already. Slowly, everything they did had to do with you, you had them wrapped around your fingers even when you were gone. The ghost of you still looming over them, watching, controlling just like a puppeteer would.
They refused to believe that you were dead somewhere, possibly because of them. To them, you were alive and safe, somewhere hiding from them. This was the only explanation, the only one they’d take. Call it love, or maybe obsession, they needed to do this. For their safety and the safety of others. You were simply hiding from them to punish them for their sins.
At first it was more to preserve themselves that they had kept this habit, putting you in their lives as if you were still there. Fake it until you make it right ?
Here, they only hoped to survive.
It wasn’t about succeeding, they didn’t expect or want to succeed at anything. They wanted to live. They could never without you, it was simply impossible. Inconceivable even. So they lied to themselves. For the two first years of your absence, they had lied.
The lie had stopped after an additional night of going to sleep in a bed that lacked your scent. The sweet scent of vanilla, brown sugar, lemon and honey, all of it was gone. They’d buried their faces in the pillows, hoping for one last hint of you but all of it was gone now. They had gone above and beyond to keep the ghost of you for as long as possible but the lie could not go on any longer. Everything around made it clear now, you were gone and most likely to never return.
Steve had been the first to accept it, crying in silence while Bucky slowly got more and more violent. He had to watch as the man he loved, his best friend, a piece of him, slowly let it all out, the longing, the pain, the anger, all of it. The screams of pain that resonated in the house were nothing compared to the sound of them from up close. He hugged the man he loved for hours, begging for him to stop, begging for him to try and calm down, but it was impossible. Maybe it was a proof of his love for you, one last declaration before he let go.
James Barnes was not one to let himself be swallowed by his feelings, but he had no choice here. His only way out was to scream, to let his feelings explode and possessed him entirely. This was his only way of feeling you, grappling at the last bit of emotions he could remember from you. Everything that was left of you was gone, or at least everything non-tangible.
For hours they searched the house and gathered everything that you had left. They were certain that you would be back because everything you owned was here. It had actually made more sense for you to have been taken because everything was left behind. They knew you better than anyone and you never left without at least a few of the things you owned. You’d even left your promise ring here. You adored that ring, so why would you leave it behind ?
No matter what they did to you, you'd never leave your promise ring behind.
They’d been desperate to be relieved from the panic and pain from that day. The day you left.
As they both sat, completely silent and staring at the screen in front of them, they watched the last of what they had saved of you.
Pictures, audio recordings and videos, they watched it all, knowing it by heart but never feeling like they’d seen it all. It wasn’t enough, ever. They always needed to see more, to learn and understand more. Something had them convinced that in these videos and photos were hidden the secrets of your whereabouts. Maybe it was paranoia but it looked more like desperation than anything.
~
Running inside their home, they could already feel that something was wrong. The feeling of home, the warmth, your scent, it was dissipating in the air with each passing second. The house was cold, as if all the windows had been opened to let out something, to hide something. It was all so windy inside, you’d feel like the smell of the rain that poured outside would’ve spread inside but no. Nothing could hide this familiar scent they’d grown used to, a scent that symbolized the life they lived.
All around, everything smelled like blood, as if dozens of bodies were littered around the place and the smell of their rotting bodies had spread to engulf yours and make it all a memory. You were already fading in their lives, they could feel it.
We could raise that it was the blood that poured out of their own wounds or the rapid pace of their hearts, hammering so violently against their ribcage that it could be heard by anyone around. All these could be the factors that weighted the most in their current state, but they knew better. They knew something was wrong, it was evident. They could feel it trembling in their bones, their entire beings screaming for them to be quick, before it was too late.
They climbed the stairs, running and screaming your name in vain. They pleaded for you to reveal yourself, to make yourself known. They needed to know that you were still here, still with them. It took them an two hours to give up. You weren’t in the house and there was no point in wasting anymore time.
They sent a dozen different teams to look for you, search the entirety of New York and turn it all upside down. Anything that would give them an answer was good enough. Each flight, each train, each taxi and bus. They’d take anything to find you, losing you was never an option. They couldn’t accept it.
“You search all over New York. Every garden, forest, house. Everything that could be familiar to her, where she’d feel safe. You find her.” Had said Bucky, trying his best to maintain himself clear and composed.
To the normal eye, it would feel wrong. The two claimed to love her so deeply but one looked as frozen as ice while the other was absent. But Steve’s absence was enough of an answer to the curiosity of those who did not know better than to assume.
Steve was standing alone, in the room you three shared, holding a bloody cloth. Your scent coated the fabric as well as your blood. He could feel the mix between the heat of a piece of clothing freshly worn, and the freezing liquid.
His silence spoke a thousand words. Words of pure anger, betrayal, fear and desperation. These emotions he’d felt before felt new now, as he’d been reborn after you. Nothing could settle the heart of a men who’d managed to get a taste at unconditional love and acceptance after years of deprivation and self restraint. He’d kept himself and his heart safe by centering it on Bucky alone but you’d been a door to greater bliss and now that he had seen what was out there, he refused to go back in the darkness.
His grip on the piece of cloth was held tight enough to see his knuckles visibly turn white and the excess blood drip all over the skin of his palms.
Bucky stayed quiet, fist held tightly and teeth gritted together. The answer to the question he could feel ring inside his lover’s head stayed stuck in his throat, like a knot of tears threatening to jump out and explode. His only possibility was to hug the man he loved, hug him with all his might and try in vain to sooth the small shake of his large body. He was quickly rejected and watched Steve exit the room sadly.
He needed to find balance in the blond man, needed to remind himself that there was still a chance. Maybe you weren’t far, maybe you’d forgive and forget the events that preceded your disappearance. Maybe you’d be clement, generous and prove to them that you would love them no matter what. This was their hope. Because you had promised to love you with everything you had, no matter what.
But in the world they lived in, hopes were meant to be buried or they’d be crushed.
As the hours passed, the guilt and regret started to pile up over the rest. The exhaustion from the previous days, the bloody wounds and violent migraines. They were drained of life and devastated by the day’s discoveries. Nothing could save them, not even your presence, that could be felt as it slowly dissipated and disappeared with the last bits of your sweet scent and lingering warmth you
They’d lost you.
It took eight hours of search before each team concluded in the worst case scenario, you had disappeared. Above hope, true terror had made its way into their heart and grew each passing second. You could be dead just like you could be alive, but the latter was more probable. They knew the lives they lived and exposed you to, your death could be the only way but mourning was impossible. They couldn’t allow the thought of your death to cement itself in them. They refused to grieve and to move on, so they lived with your shadow looming over them.
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peachy-panic · 3 years
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The Nurse
TAG LIST: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar @thecyrulik - let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!
WARNINGS: TW emetophobia (right at the beginning), medical facility, BBU/BBU-adjacent. The usual. Let me know if I missed anything! Uhh, extra special warning for what is probably an ungodly amount of typos, because this is sexy & unedited & i apologize for nothing. 
Sebastian is suddenly grateful for the round-the-clock cleaning crew at the facility as his fingers grip the side of the porcelain bowl, drowning in a cloud of lemon scented bleach. Better than a lot of other smells that could be coming from a communal bathroom, he supposes. He heaves again, feeling a fresh sheen of sweat break over his skin, but nothing comes up. The contents of his stomach had been emptied hours ago, and he hadn’t eaten anything since the breakfast bar he grabbed on the way to work this morning, but that hasn’t stopped him from racing to the private employee bathroom every time a particularly brutal memory from the surgery rises to the surface. 
His shift ended hours ago, but he has no intention of leaving anytime soon. Not while Jaime is still under. Dr. Greer had eventually caved and sedated him midway through the procedure, when it became clear that nothing productive could happen while the patient actively seized on the table. It was the smallest of mercies to cap an unthinkable act of violence. Still, Sebastian couldn’t help his relief at watching Jaime’s eyes finally drift shut, his muffled cries of pain and terror dying out with his fleeting consciousness. 
As it nears nine p.m., he still hasn’t woken up, and Sebastian isn’t going anywhere. Except, of course, to the fucking bathroom once an hour to spit up bile. 
Pushing himself up from his groaning knees, Sebastian presses the button to flush and makes his way to the sink. He looks awful. The person looking back at him in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable, the bags beneath his eyes stand out against pale skin that takes on more of a greenish hue than usual. Sporadic red curls cling to his forehead, matted down with dried-and-redried sweat. His clean, pressed button-down has been rumbled and untucked, small patches of moisture soaking through under his arms. 
It’s a good thing he’s one of the only ones left in the clinic. The night nurses are floating around somewhere, but Sebastian has managed to mostly avoid them so far between sitting at Jaime’s bedside and his frequent bathroom runs. He’s not sure what sort of impression he would be giving, both in his state of general chaos and by the simple act of staying late to watch over his patient, but frankly he cannot bring himself to care. 
After splashing his face with cold water and scrubbing his hands, Sebastian makes his way back out to the overnight ward and sinks into the plastic chair he’s positioned beside the only occupied bed. The large room is nearly silent, save for the steady beeping of the monitor attached to Jaime’s finger and the soft exhales of breath. Both signs of life he is immensely grateful for. 
He doesn’t touch his patient, though he longs to more than anything. Just to offer him some semblance of human comfort, of kindness. Something he’s sure the kid has not received much of in his time here, and maybe before that. He knows virtually nothing about this person, and he understands that this is by design. Revealing details - something as small as a first name from a previous life - would humanize them too much. It might make people with “soft spots,” as Handler Smith had called it, prone to leniency unfit for someone deemed by the government as less-than-human. God forbid they allow a dangerous thing like compassion inside these walls. Something like that could be the downfall of everything they believe in. 
Sebastian’s eyes draw back to the bandages wrapped around his patient’s hand. He’s already had to change them twice since being here. The first time had been Sebastian’s fault. When he walked in to find the unconscious boy’s arms restrained to the bed rails, he had acted without thinking, removing the soft straps from around his wrists. He only realized his mistake when a surge of nightmares fought against the sedation, and Jaime had kicked out in his sleep, his hands coming up to fight against some unseen force and knocking against the rails instead. Seconds later, dark crimson began to seep through the white of the bandages.
After changing them, cleaning him, and redoing the bit of suture that had torn apart, Sebastian had been forced to restrain him once again. Even without any resistance, even knowing that it was fully in the patient’s best interest, it had been one of the worst things he has ever had to do. You know, besides that one time he had to perform a fully awake-and-aware surgery hours earlier. 
Then, the second time, he realized that the restraints themselves could just as easily be used to agitate the wound. And so he had been forced to repeat the entire process, this time moving the band of his restraint as high up on his arm as he could manage without causing further pain. 
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian whispers for what has to be the hundredth time today, knowing full well that his words are falling on deaf ears, and even if they do manage to get through, no amount of apologies, no matter how sincere, can hold up to the pain Sebastian has caused him today. 
He doesn’t hear the door open behind him, doesn’t notice the other presence in the room until the other presence seems to be equally shocked to see him. 
“Oh— Dr. Tate.”
He spins around to find a young nurse, probably even younger than he is, standing at the entrance of the ward. He thinks he’s seen her around, usually only in brief passing as she exits the building on his way in, coming off the night shift.
His eyes flicker down to movement at her side just in time to see something slide into the front pocket of her scrub jacket. Before he has time to process it, she’s speaking again, walking briskly toward Jaime’s bed. “I didn’t realize you were still here,” she says, grabbing the digital tablet from the foot of the bed. 
Sebastian doesn’t think he’s imagining the coldness in her tone as she addresses him without making eye contact. 
“Late night, huh?”
“Um, yeah.” Sebastian clears his throat, readjusting his poor posture. “Yeah, I just… the procedure didn’t go as smoothly as we hoped earlier, so…”
She doesn’t look at him still, but he watches the sharp edge of her jaw tighten and release beneath the loose strands of green-dyed hair that curtain the side of her face. “Yes,” she says stiffly. “I heard.” 
“Right,” he says, unsure of how to react to the young nurse’s thinly veiled hostility. He watches silently as she works over Jaime, tapping his vitals into the tablet and checking the bandages on his bad hand. 
“Oh, I… I just changed them about an hour ago,” he waves her off, hoping to earn some points with her by saving her the extra work. Instead, she looks up at him, fixing him with a glare that he can feel burning through his retinas. He swallows. “But, you know, feel free to… do what you gotta do.”
She holds his eyes for another long moment and Sebastian is not sure how someone a solid foot shorter than him can be so scary. “Thanks for the permission,” she says finally, not sounding at all thankful as she redirects her attention to Jaime. 
After an intensely uncomfortable minute of silence, Sebastian pushes himself out of the chair, flinching at the scraping sound against the tile. 
“Sorry,” he stumbles, taking a step back. “I should… I’ll give you some room to work. Sorry.”
She doesn’t acknowledge that he’s said anything at all, but Sebastian doesn’t dwell on it as he makes his hasty escape from the room. He’s not leaving the facility, that much hasn’t changed, but he could probably do with finding something to eat. Feeling the stiffness in his legs, Sebastian opts to take the stairs up to the communal break room. Even if he doesn’t find food, he could surely use a cup of coffee or six. 
A couple of night shift handlers are gathered around a small table in the corner when he walks in, because of course they are, but fortunately none of them comment on his arrival. He turns his back to them at the coffee station, setting an espresso pod in the sleek, silver machine. While the heating mechanism hums, vibrating the counter under his fingertips, he goes to work rifling through the cabinets for some sort of sustenance. He finds no shortage, because of course WRU would shell out their exorbitant amounts of money on high quality, all-organic snacks instead of, say, a licensed anesthesiologist and proper surgical team for their patients. 
He settles on a bag of some type of herby potato chips without really looking, tearing it open and shoving a small handful into his mouth while his coffee brews. The relief melts into him as he chews and swallows, his body grabbing hungrily at the much needed calories. He throws back another as he selects a brightly-branded mug from the shelf above the sink. Fucking WRU. 
The hushed conversation from the table behind him erupts in a brief flurry of laughter, and Sebastian’s shoulders tense on instinct. Twelve years of grade school are not so easily wiped from the nervous system. But when he chances a backwards glance in their direction, he sees that their attention is not directed at him, but rather at a phone screen that one of the men holds at arm’s length for the rest to see. Sebastian's stomach turns at the barrage of ideas of what they could be looking at. Judging by the dark chuckle from one of them and a low whistle from another, he can imagine he’s better off not knowing.
A head snaps up in Sebastian’s direction when they sense him staring and he flinches, whipping back around to pour his doubleshot into the mug. He feels their gaze on his back for a few seconds longer before the conversation continues undisturbed and his shoulders can relax again. As soon as he’s done, he grabs his coffee and a second bag of chips and darts from the room as fast as he can, a renewed hatred for everyone who wears that ugly fucking uniform bubbling hot in his chest. 
He freezes the moment he steps back into the overnight ward. 
“Hey,” he barks, finding his voice as quickly as he can. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The same nurse he had left with Jaime spins around, away from the IV bag overhead that she has just been caught tampering with. Her free hand slips deftly to her side again as she angles her body just enough that he can’t see what she’s doing, but not before he catches a glimpse of a glass vile. 
“Get away from him,” he commands, charging across to her in long, angry strides. “What did you just put in his drip?”
To his surprise, she doesn’t back down, but she doesn’t say anything either. The same icy glare is set in her eyes as she stares defiantly up at him. She doesn’t move, not even to take a step back. 
“Are you out of your fucking mind? Move!” Sebastian, no longer willing to waste time on whatever explanation she has or doesn’t have, shoulders roughly past her, forcing her out of the way. As gently as he can with suddenly trembling hands, he peels back the tape securing the IV to the top of Jaime’s good hand and slides the needle out, stopping the flow of whatever-the-fuck has just been injected. 
Once he’s discarded the needle in the sharps container, he wheels around on the nurse with a fiery glower. She meets his eyes again, her jaw cut sharp and fists curled at her sides. 
“What was it?” His voice comes out low and more dangerous than he thought himself capable. 
“Nothing,” she bites back, just as evenly. 
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “I saw you. I caught you. And I know damn well neither Dr. Greer or myself have signed off on anything more than what’s in his chart right now, so tell me what you think you’re doing here.”
“Or what?”
Sebastian’s jaw slackens, his mouth opening and closing out of genuine shock at her blase reaction. His gaze dips momentarily to the slight bulge of the vile in her scrub pocket, and he half considers lunging forward and ripping it away from her. 
“Or what?” he repeats incredulously. “Or I’ll fucking report you to the board. You can already consider your ass as good as fired, I can promise you that, but maybe you can still have a fighting chance of keeping your license if you tell me right now.”
At this, she has the audacity to laugh. Sebastian has to work hard on remembering his moral objection to physical violence. “I doubt that,” she says. 
Sebastian takes a step toward her, not out of any foolish desire to intimidate, but out of a sheer sleep-deprived desperation to save the poor fucking kid behind him any further suffering today. “He could die,” he implores her, sure that he’s looking more than a little crazy with his wide, bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair. “Please, I just… I just need to know what it was. Please. He has suffered enough for one day, just fucking tell me so I can help him if I can.”
It’s brief, it’s fleeting, but it’s there: the flash of softened emotion that passes through her eyes for the first time in their entire interaction. She studies him through narrowed eyes, her jaw working from side to side. Finally, she lets out a long breath through her nose.
“He’s not going to die,” she says quietly, firmly. 
Sebastian blinks. “What?”
“He’s fine,” she repeats. “I know what I’m doing.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Sebastian thinks. “If he’s fine, then tell me what you gave him,” he says instead.
This gives her another moment of pause that feels like a small eternity. Sebastian is seconds away from resorting to his original plan of bodily force when she sighs again, reaching into her pocket. She pulls out the small vile and tosses it at him. His horrific hand-eye coordination pulls through just enough for him to catch it to his chest before it shatters against the tile. He scrambles to pull the label into his field of vision and…
“It’s morphine,” she snaps. Sebastian looks up at her, relief and confusion flooding through him in equal time. Before he can ask any questions, she adds, “I know he wasn’t going to get it any other way. And I know it won’t have any adverse reactions with the sedative he was given. I was never trying to cause him harm.”
It’s easy to read the implicit ending to that thought: unlike the rest of you.
Sebastian doesn’t understand what’s happening. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or the dehydration or the harsh come-down of adrenaline, but he feels like he’s in a dream. In all his time here, he’s never seen another staff member — of any kind — so blatantly risk their own neck for the betterment of a system worker. Even he, who has self-righteously placed himself above the rest of them, has not been brave enough to help in any way that counts. Who is this person? And what is her motive?
“Why?” He hears himself ask out loud.
She looks disgusted. “Why?” She repeats.
“That’s not…” Sebastian shakes his head, pinching his eyes shut briefly. “I mean, you could get in a lot of trouble if you got caught.” Not for the first time today, he’s reminded of the multiple threatening conversations he’s had, first with Smith and then with Greer. It’s been made clear to him, in the most cryptic of ways, that nothing good comes to those who defy the system from the inside. To those who sympathize with those deemed less fortunate.
The corner of the nurse’s mouth ticks up, but he can’t tell if it’s hinting at a smile or a sneer. “Haven’t I already been caught?”
Oh. Right. 
“Look,” Sebastian says, scrubbing a palm over the beginnings of stubble on his face. “If you’re really just doing this to help him, I don’t have any interest in getting you in trouble. I just want to understand what’s going on. Okay? I swear, I’m... I’m not one of the bad ones.”
She scoffs. “Everyone here is a ‘bad one.’ It comes with the territory.”
“Everyone?” Sebastian challenges, even though he doesn’t quite disagree with her statement. “Even you?”
There’s that look again; the appraisal in her eyes as she scans over him, trying to see something that exists beneath the surface. “You don’t get to be inside this system without crossing some lines,” she says darkly. “That’s intentional. But there’s also some things you can’t reach from the outside.”
“Like… giving pain medication to suffering patients?” Something starts to click, and Sebastian can’t tell if that’s relief or anxiety unspooling in the pit of his stomach. She’s watching him carefully, cautiously, and he’s watching her right back. 
He has heard of underground liberation movements, of course he has, but most of his first-hand experience has been more along the lines of student protestors in the quad during undergrad and the rogue social media post from some of his more left-leaning friends. Sebastian has never seen something like this in action, especially something so risky. So within his proximity. Is that what this is? Is that what she is?
What does he do with that information, if so?
The nurse, seeming to find whatever it is she was looking for behind his eyes, inclines her head slightly. “Among other things,” she responds. She doesn’t break eye contact as Sebastian nods, slowly, taking in the answer for what it is. 
“Right,” he says. 
There’s another few moments of stiff, wordless standoff before she extends her arm, holding out an open palm. “Can I have that back?” she asks calmly. Sebastian looks down at the mostly-empty vile of morphine in his hand. 
“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” He drops it into her hand. She wastes no time shoving it back into her pocket and stepping around him so that he is no longer between her and the exit. When she turns back to him, she lets her eyes fall briefly on Jaime, then back to him. 
“Are we good here, then?” she asks, and Sebastian detects just the hint of unsteadiness behind her solid mask. The question behind the question: “So you're not going to turn me in?”
Sebastian has about a hundred thousand questions he wants to ask, but none of them make the leap from his brain to his lips. Instead, he is only able to offer her a nod of confirmation. “We’re good,” he says.
Her eyes scan him once again from head to toe, the green strip of hair falling slightly over her eyes. “Not one of the bad ones,” she repeats. “We’ll see.” Then, nodding to the bed behind him, “Your patient’s waking up.”
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cozycryptidcorner · 3 years
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Avery the Fae/Reader, Lemon
You don’t dress up for Halloween.
Not your fault, though, really, because your professors show no mercy for holidays, especially not ones that don’t land them a day off. Classes go on as usual, and so you wake up the latest you can without risking a tardy and go off in the comfortable clothes you slept in. Except for some cat ears and one superman, everything is perfectly normal, and the day passes like almost every other, save for a ‘spooky drink’ coupon at the local cafe.
I probably don’t even need a costume, anyways, you think as you catch your reflection when passing those special mirror-like windows on one of the campus’ buildings. Frankly, you look like you crawled out of hell itself. Dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep, hair all askew and uncooperative, mouth in a permanent stressed line.
A zombie, probably, you decide, taking a sip of that hot caffeinated mess you ordered from the cafe. A hot zombie, for sure, but a zombie no less. A part of you wants to skip your next class and take a nap, but you’ve already used up your one absence, and you aren’t in a position to risk your grade for sleep. No rest for the wicked, right? Right. Everything else goes as smoothly as can be expected for being sleep deprived, and the night class seems to drag on for a fully stretched eternity, but you are finally free to go home and do your five hours of homework. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can squeeze in two or three hours of sleep.
It’s because you’re tired, you think, stopping for a hot minute when you realize that you’re lost. You hadn’t been paying attention to campus’ many twists and turns in its paths, and so you must have wandered away from the buildings and onto the forest trail that hugs the dorms, except there’s no cement beneath your feet. Not even a dirt trail marks a way out, and you take a full moment to come to terms with being lost, on your own damn campus, no less. You aren’t any kind of simpering pansy, so you turn around and begin to retrace your steps. Which doesn’t work, unfortunately, because after a couple of minutes of walking, there’s nothing to suggest that you’re only a couple of paces from civilization.
Except a drum beat, behind you. It’s faint, probably a half-mile away, but it’s the closest thing you have to a way back, especially since your phone can’t seem to pick up any signal. Maybe one of the school’s many bands are practicing? Right, you’re just going to stumble out into the football field, twigs in your hair, looking very much like you’ve gotten into a fist-fight with the entire forest…
And… Not a band, you realize, stepping into a clearing, but a party.
A costume party, too, by the looks of it, with everyone in soft, flittery clothing and fitted masks. Interesting how everyone seems to be on the same page with the dress code, there’s usually that one dick who shows up in a hotdog suit, regardless of any previous agreements. Elegant is the word you’re looking for, you decide, running into something tall and solider, correction: running into someone tall and solid.
“Oh, hey, sorry,” you apologize, shifting your weight on either foot, “I’m a little lost.”
“I think that you are right where you want to be,” your stranger says, mouth turning up into a strange, fanged smile. His black mask is trimmed with gold, and it doesn’t seem like he’s costuming as anything specific; rather, it appears to be just for anonymity.
“I think I really want to be in bed,” you say, trying to share a mutual we’re in college and want to die of exhaustion moment, but he doesn’t respond with the same energy.
“Perhaps a drink of wine before you go?” He offers, holding out an actual goblet of some kind. Maybe the metal-working students pitched in? Or accepted a particular commissioned order? It looks like genuine gold, which adds to the whole aesthetic of the party.
“Uh,” don’t accept drinks you haven’t seen made, “I’m good for now, really. Just trying to get back home to study.”
“Hm,” he says, taking a good swig from the goblet he had just offered, “good question. Through the trees from whence you came, most likely.”
Of fucking course, he’s drunk and doesn’t know left from right. Great. What an excellent position you’ve put yourself in. Frustrated and confident he wouldn’t roofie himself, you snatch the goblet from his hand and down several large gulps of shockingly sweet wine, maybe a sangria? Or something sugared up to be palatable?
Swirling the goblet around, to seem sophisticated, you ask, “so is this some kind of rich person party? Like an Illuminati meeting or something?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you speak of.”
“Right.” You draw out the single syllable, landing hard on the t. LARPers, probably, but not unattractive ones. Those masks don’t hide everything, and the shape of his jaw is not something to balk at, and those lips? Not to be forward in your own brain or anything, but they’re certainly decent to look at. This has to be some kind of weird-ass club, or like a rich dumbass ritual or something, definitely not your average frat party with a variety of random drugs mixed into the mystery punch. “Do you go to school here?”
He looks down at your university sweatshirt, cocking his head slightly. “A place of learning, is it? No, I’m afraid I have not attended such an institution, but I must admit that I have been tempted.”
“Well,” you take another sip of wine, “it’s not bad, as far as universities go. With decent financial aid, too.”
“Best not to drink too much of that,” your stranger says, “it’s much stronger than it tastes, and it’s best you stay clear-headed for the evening’s festivities.”
“One cup can’t hurt,” you say, and then realize that he’s just volunteered you to join in on the fun. Which is kind of weird, you guess, but then again, you aren’t going to complain. This is a way more interesting place to spend your evening, but might as well prop your backpack underneath one of the tables, hiding it beneath the skirt of the pale white cloth. You eye the unmarked bottle that one of the party-goers holds, but set your goblet down by the expensive-looking chinaware, flexing your fingers as they begin to tingle with the warmness that comes with alcohol. “What’s the party’s theme?”
He cocks his head, as though confused.
“Like a…” you try to think of a different way to phrase it. “A topic you pick, and everyone has to adhere to it. The people here all look like they’re, like, what Victorian thought the fairies looked like or something. I think it’s the clothes.”
“We are Faeries, though,” he says, the sides of his mouth curving upwards.
“Hm,” you say, “of course you are.”
“Join me for this dance?” Your stranger asks instead of any rebuttals, holding out a hand.
You look over at the band that plays, masks of distinct animal-like features flickering in the light of the bonfire roaring in the center of the clearing, all instruments vaguely familiar, yet not. Some of them you think you’ve seen before, at maybe renaissance-themed festivals, but the others must be from some kind of distinctly obscure genre of music.
The heat from the fire seems to lick out at your fingers, or maybe it’s the alcohol, already making its way through your system, but you stare, transfixed, at the way the lyre player plucks at the strings of their instrument. The quick movement plays too much with your eyes, you barely see anything more than the blurs of fingers, and you suddenly realize that you are swaying in place.
“I don’t know how,” you say, snapping out of whatever trance you had been in.
“It’s rather simple, come here,” he takes one of your hands, shockingly not unwelcome. Perhaps the warmth of his skin against yours brings you a kind of peace that you need during this period of your life. “I will teach you.”
Your stranger is correct; the dance is fairly simple to learn, mostly because there are very few rules. Sway your hips. Let your feet bounce against the soft forest floor. Let him spin you around and around until your head almost feels light. You’ll be honest, he’s the one doing all the work, guiding you, adding more flair to your steps, one hand resting on your waist, the other weaving its fingers with yours. Now, you may not be one to go out and ballroom dance on the fly, but you would be alright admitting that this is kind of fun.
So you dance. And you dance. And you continue dancing, letting the music remove you from time and space, everything else fades away except for the thrumming drumbeat, the wind in the trees, and your partner. You don’t feel the need to gasp for air, nor do your legs give out and collapse, but you aren’t even aware of how much time has passed. You dance out your pain, your stress, and any alcohol that lingers in your system, a layer of sweat keeping your body cool in the autumn night’s air. An eternity, perhaps, a small piece of infinity shared between you and this stranger, or the briefest of moments that still yield the most intimate bit of time that two people can share.
The song ends- or perhaps, the band finally runs out of music to play. You don’t know what time it is, but you aren’t finished with the party, not yet. The stranger sets his hands on both your hips, eyes as red as the fires of hell, and offers you a promising smile, his shirt loosely clinging to his body, having lost the fancily embroidered vest at some point while dancing.
“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask, making a snap decision not to let the night go to waste.
His smile widens.
The trees are your only audience when he brings you away from the rest of the party, the moon staring over the tops of the red and yellow leaves. The chill of the night might have discouraged anyone else, but you are broiling with energy and ready to continue moving wildly to keep warm. Despite barely being out of sight, you’re already working on his clothes, trying to find velcro or snaps of a cheap costume and failing rather miserably. He seems amused with your attempts, guiding your hands to find a variation of ties and buttons. Soon enough, you have his shirt off, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, revealing a chest etched in dozens of tattoos, red like blood against his pale skin, though it’s too dark to make out precisely what they are.
He seems to have a destination in mind, even though you steal most of his attention with kisses and touches. Even though you are in a place you’re sure no one would bother finding you in, he still seems determined to herd your desperate body further away from the camp, until the both of you get to a clearing, free of roots strangling the ground. Jupiter and Saturn stare blankly down from their perches in the sky, the stars surrounding them twinkling, as though applauding your conquest.
“I didn’t catch your name,” you gasp after a breathless kiss.
He pauses, almost put off by the request, like he’s startled you would even ask. Before you can even regain the ability to feel nervous, he says, “Avery.”
“Avery,” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair. “That’s a nice name.”
“And what may I call you?”
Like a fool, you give up your first name without much thought, but you are too excited about where the night is going to remember what you said even a second later. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, because his mouth is against yours, and your back is on the cold, dewy grass before you even register that he pulled your legs off balance. He’s a good kisser, you think hazily, his lips traveling down from your mouth to your collarbone. His mouth is nice and hot against your skin, already sending pleasant little shivers down your spine as he works, and you find yourself grasping at the cold, dying grass of the earth in order to pull your spirit back to reality.
The insides of your belly melt as he lifts your shirt up over your breasts, and you’re quick to discard the garment as he sucks at the skin just above the hemline of your pants. He needs help with the button and the zipper, his lithe fingers struggling to figure out the mechanics, so you undo everything for him. After letting out a thankful grunt, he leans forward, pressing his lips right on your stomach, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark that may bruise in the morning.
Then he kisses the skin just above where your underwear ends, a jolting shiver pulsing through your core at the contact. When you glance down at him, the barest light emanating from the roaring bonfire only a few meters away, he seems so… focused, you think, at his task of slowly stripping the last bit of fabric away from your body. Methodically, he tugs, fingers threading through the straps at the side, his eyes glimmering in the light bleeding out from the moon herself.
Slowly, steadily, he presses his mouth where your leg and torso meet, nibbling at a bit of flesh before moving ever so slightly downwards, opening your legs and seemingly liking what he finds down there. Carefully avoiding any of your puckered, wet skin, he instead moves his lips just to the side, clearly enjoying the act of driving you to the brink of insanity. You can feel the smile he wears as he teases you further, switching over to your other thigh.
Almost impatiently, you wrap one of your legs around his shoulder, arching your back when he finally lashes his tongue out to trace the outline of your flower. A heated spark ignites through your nerves, a charge of fiery need flooding your body and into your core. He seems to enjoy the breathless whine you offered in response because he does it again, inching closer and closer to your clit.
Roughly, you tangle your fingers into his long, flowing hair, pulling him closer and begging with no words for him to stop teasing and finally give you the pleasure you need. Avery finally complies, pressing his tongue right up against your clit and tracing little circles on and around it. The heat of his breath only helps further stir the coals in your womb, your back arching against the gentle curve of the world as you cry out.
He seems to deeply enjoy your keening, popping off your puckered flesh in the brief moment it takes for him to smile up at you, like a beast satisfied with the tortured screams of its prey. The way his tongue moves up, around, and down your clit makes you want to die, dirt clinging underneath your fingernails, bits of grass tearing as you claw at the ground. Still, he takes your keening reaction to double his efforts, using his fingers when his mouth is busy elsewhere, rubbing gentle little patterns in the opening of your slit.
There, you can feel your orgasm approaching as he begins to explore your core with his thumb, pushing and rubbing against the throbbing folds with some level of curiosity in his eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, a passing observation.
You’re so beyond the point of return that you could barely even draw in the words to thank him before you’re overcome with shaking trembles emanating from your very core, your insides quick to bend and break at his beckoning. It doesn’t take much more teasing from Avery before you’re crying out for him, voice cracking with pleasure and desperation, your fingers threading through his hair so tightly you don’t know where you end, and he begins.
When you are nothing more than a heaping, teary-eyed mass of trembling flesh on the ground, he crawls up from between your legs, kisses your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, your collarbone, all the way up to your mouth once more. You can taste yourself on his tongue and lips, warmer than the wine and almost twice as intoxicating, and by the wild stare in his eyes, he’s drunk with your nectar. And, quite frankly, ready to devour you, his kisses all teeth and heat, mouth dexterous against the curves, rises, and plateaus of your body, like he knows so very intimately every square centimeter of you.
There’s a hard rock length against your stomach, one that you can feel, almost tragically against your skin as he lavishes your lips and chest with his blessed attention. Even though you walked into this situation expecting a one-night stand, you don’t know, this feels light it could rocket through your life and end up becoming
“More,” you rasp, surprised that your voice is even working, ” more.”
He understands that rough and demanding command, stroking your hair with one of his free hands, mouth offering up a myriad of kisses to your neck and collarbone, an odd, overcoming need to please you emanating off of him, one like you’ve never dealt with before. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see the familiar masks of those at the party earlier, but Avery turns your wandering gaze back to him with his insistent, feral kiss, his chest trembling with heated need.
“Do you want my cock inside you?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.
“Please,” you almost snarl, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Hmm,” he almost manages to fool you that he could care less, but by the way his body grinds and presses against yours, he’s so, so close to traveling the radius of the earth itself to comply. You can hear the rustle of fabric as he strips away what’s left of his ensemble, moving away from your body and leaving you almost horrifically cold.
It doesn’t take a lot for him to angle your legs properly, your thigh rubbing up against his throbbing member. He’s at least gentle with how he impales you, his entrance slow and gradual, kaleidoscope eyes staring so intently into your very being that you wonder if you’ll survive the next time pleasure crashes down around you. And he feels so good, the crisp, autumn grass against your back the only thing keeping you from becoming so lost beneath his trembling body.
He must share your thoughts because even though he’s only eased in, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing is short and shallow like he could hardly believe the pleasure your body gives him. Once he’s fully sheathed, he swears, voice quiet, yet filled to the brim with lust. You wrap your legs around his waist, hoping to feel him further, your voice and your body begging him to continue, to move, but he’s almost in a trance.
You’re impatient for movement, for that slick friction between your thighs, so you quickly take matters into your own hands. With no finesse, fueled only by spite and determination, you shift, switching positions using your legs and arms. Avery simply rolls with it, a ghostly smile on his mouth as you pin his hands to the ground, chest heaving from the effort, a layer of sweat misting your skin despite the chill of the night.
That seems to break whatever space he had retreated to, eyes lit like a roaring forest fire as he beholds your body from beneath your legs. His voice is raspy, but the demand is calm, collected, like he’s waited for thousands of years for this, for you. “Use me.”
You let out a breath, steadying yourself on his body to comply, and grind. His eyes roll back as you do, starting slowly, his back arching off the ground, his chest heaving with pleasure at the loss of control. Careful to control the pace, you let yourself be taken by the pleasure, the joining slick and hot, your core roaring with approval and greed. More, more, more.
Everything is suddenly vibrantly alive, the forest rustling with a wind you don’t feel, crickets singing hymns in the open field, the moon herself licking at your bodies with her soft, precious light. You think you hear chanting in the distance, your brain muddled with his delicious praises and lust that you don’t try to investigate, too focused on feeling his length pulse and move through your folds. Tears prick at your eyes, not from sadness, no, and you couldn’t possibly know their purpose because this feels so good, like his body was made for you.
This climax almost hurts, you felt it approaching and you knew it would be a lot, so you brace yourself, both hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. You look into his eyes, and you see… more, than just fundamental attraction, more than pure, unadulterated lust, but you’re so far gone you can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, before you’re overcome.
Everything in your body is aflame, your core quaking enough to make you think, for just a brief moment, that the earth itself is tearing apart, you cry, you whine, you scream for him, and he’s there, holding onto you for dear life. Telling you that you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, that you’ll never want another man so long as your legs are wrapped around him so tightly like this. You think you believe him, gasping for air, fingernails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood, though he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
It takes a lot of concentration to bring yourself back into your body, your soul and spirit so besotted with desire, but you manage it, feeling his hands grip your thighs so tightly his fingers may leave bruise marks. You bend forward, letting him take the reins as you try to stay present enough in the moment to kiss and nip at his neck, teeth tugging at his skin, the aftershocks still moving through your nerves like waves on a storming night. Still, though, you want him to feel what you did, to become undone by your hand.
And he does, his thrusts becoming so uneven that you begin to grind, ghosts of your orgasm weaving through your flesh and womb. A crescendo of noise seems to overtake the clearing, the air becoming like static, the hairs on your arms standing on end. Overcome, he curses and snarls in a language you don’t understand, his voice hard and soft at the same time, his hips jerking as something warm and wet pulses out of his member, filling you up and spilling out onto his pelvis.
Avery sits up, still joined within you, shaken, but startlingly and brilliantly alive, chest heaving with the effort of breathing. He presses his mouth against yours in a myriad of kisses, soft, possessive, tender, needy. There is still some amount of desire on his lips, but without the same uncontrollable yearning broiling just beneath his fevered skin like before.
Then he says your name, and a shiver goes down your spine, your very being somehow attentive to whatever he says next, as though your entire universe suddenly floods down and descends on this one, single person. He says it again, rolling it over his tongue like a wine taster, trying out each of the letters as though they offer a different kind of sweetness, his eyes just as wild as they had been when you held him pinned to the grass. A sliver of fear pierces your chest, making you want to push him onto the ground and take him again, but he has other plans.
“I’ll walk you back, dove,” he says, pressing his mouth against your collarbone, though he doesn’t kiss you again, not yet. “The sun will soon be up.”
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tenisperfection · 2 years
Text
Chapter 4 of the Good emergencies series: Raspberries taste like love
A series of standalone fics about how Eddie learns and loves to cook, aided liberally by Buck, Chris, Bobby, and other friends. Read on ao3. 
Summary: Buck and Eddie make jam, cookies, and the good kind of mess on Valentine’s day. 
feat. ways you should definitely not be using jam. A getting together fic set during quarantine.
The jam is Eddie’s idea.
“We can keep it a secret!” Eddie says excitedly. “If we hide it behind your awful protein powders, I’m sure Chim and Hen won’t go looking.”
“Don’t insult the man who’s making you jam,” Buck retorts. He can sense Eddie’s eyeroll as he peers into the large copper pot on the stove. The apartment smells delicious, and they’re going to need to open every window if they have any hopes of keeping their jam making a secret.
“I’m the one who’s been stirring for forty minutes,” Eddie complains. “I can’t believe you own a copper pot.” Eddie pokes the nearly cooked raspberries with the wooden spatula. “This kitchen is so well stocked we didn’t even have to get anything except the jars.”
“Bobby gave me some things as a gift when I moved in,” Buck answers, rifling through the refrigerator drawers for lemons. 
Eddie hums. “He gave me three cookbooks. Do those count as gifts?”
Buck laughs as he straightens up, lemons in hand. “It’s actually four, because he lets you use his NYT cooking subscription and fill it with nothing but brownie recipes.”
“Fuck you,” Eddie says mildly. “You know Christopher loves brownies. I think these are ready for the lemons, by the way.”
“Okay, I’m adding three tablespoons to start,” Buck announces, squeezing the lemons as fast as he can into a measuring cup. “Keep stirring.”
Buck’s adding the second tablespoon when Eddie’s phone rings loudly from the dining table, making them jump.
“Go,” Buck says. “It might be Chris.”
Eddie hands the spatula over to Buck as he walks away with a squeeze to Buck’s shoulder. As has been the case for the past several days, Buck’s face warms at the touch. Eddie’s been seeking Buck’s touch so much more lately, ever since they started quarantining together. Logically, Buck knows that he misses Christopher and his anxiety is way up, and the touches are a way for Eddie to feel grounded. Logically, Buck knows it’s not just him, because he’s seen Eddie hug Hen and Chimney so many more times that he usually would. But this is different. Buck is different, because Buck’s the one Eddie shares a bed with and Buck’s the one Eddie wakes up to, their bodies so much closer than they were when they went to bed. Even if he yearns for it, Buck’s never woken up to the two of them actually plastered to each other, but the soft brushes of their elbows as they move around the bed and the way Eddie sometimes squeezes Buck’s hand as it rests on his pillow might just kill him one of these days.
“Thanks Bobby, see you tomorrow,” Eddie says, and Buck realizes with a start that he’s somehow missed Eddie’s whole phone conversation.
“Fuck,” he mutters softly, glancing down at the jam, which is just on the edge of scorching the bottom of the pan. Buck stirs harder.
“Bobby told us to come in a few minutes earlier than usual tomorrow. Something about protocol changes,” Eddie sighs as he approaches Buck.
“Hey,” Buck says softly. “It might be good news.”
Eddie nods. “Maybe,” he says doubtfully. “Ten days already seem like too many.”
Buck nods as he keeps stirring. “I know. There’s nothing about this that doesn’t suck. I’m sad that all of you have to be away from your families, but at least we can make good use of this apartment.”
“You’re away from your family too,” Eddie says, grabbing the spatula from Buck’s hand. “From Maddie. From Chris. You know he misses you a lot. And I know you probably miss him as much as I do.”
Buck’s hand shakes a little as he zests a lemon directly over the pot of jam. His shoulders knock against Eddie’s with every grate, and the air smells like warm, delicious anticipation.
“I realized yesterday when we were talking to him that this is the longest I’ve gone without seeing him since we met,” Buck says quietly. 
Eddie says nothing. A second later, as Buck sets the grater and the zested lemon on the counter, he grabs Buck’s free hand with his own. Buck looks at him, heart pounding, but Eddie keeps stirring.
This is new, Buck thinks a little hysterically. Eddie’s hand is warm but a little sticky from the condensation on the spatula. Buck can’t imagine ever letting it go.
“Well, at least we’ll be brightening up some people’s Valentine’s days with this jam and some cookies,” Eddie exclaims. 
“We’ll be everyone’s favorites,” Buck agrees. “Speaking of, can you grab a spoon and cool a little bit of this down on a plate so we can see if it is done?”
As if he’s reluctant to let go as well, Eddie only untangles his fingers from Buck’s after a long moment.
***
The cookies were Buck’s idea.
Or rather, they were inspired by Chim and his moping self.
“I never took you for a Valentine’s day sort of guy,” Eddie had remarked as Chim complained for days on end about being away from Maddie on Valentine’s day. 
“I’m not,” Chim responded. “I just don’t want to be away from her when everyone’s talking about love and romance. It’s torture!”
Hen seemed to agree, and Buck, foolishly, had told Eddie that they should make them cookies as a gift, underestimating how much work that would entail.
“We can make them for everyone on the A shift, and Michael and David and Abuela and Pepa too,” Buck had said three days before Valentine’s day. “We can leave some outside their door! Something to cheer people up!”
Eddie agreed, and they landed on thumbprint cookies because they were Christopher’s favorite these days. Eddie, though, Eddie wanted to make the jam from scratch and then drop those off as gifts too, so here Buck is, sterilizing jars and trying not to burn his hand.
“That took forever,” Eddie complains. He stretches his arms above his head, and Buck shamelessly stares at the thin strip of skin exposed at his waist. Eddie catches him looking and then glances back at the eight jars of jam in front of them quickly.
“Um, the cookies?” Eddie starts. “The uncanned jam should be enough for those, right?”
“Yes,” Buck responds, even though they’ve talked about this twice before. “Do you want to get started?” 
The recipe for thumbprint cookies was fairly simple, which Buck guesses is the reason why Eddie seemed to be following it extremely loosely.
“I swear to god, Eddie, if you add one more spice to that thing, I’m dumping a jar of hot jam on you,” Buck complains as Eddie adds a smidgeon of powdered cloves to the bowl.
“I’m making it chai spiced,” Eddie announces. “You like chai.”
“I do,” Buck says. “But I also like it when my partner informs me of any changes to the recipe before he adds twelve new things to it.”
“You’re such a hypocrite,” Eddie complains, shoving Buck’s shoulder gently with a laugh. “No one asked you to add lemon zest to the jam either.”
“They complement raspberries,” Buck adds weakly.
“Let me taste it again,” Eddie says, reaching across Buck for the tupperware of jam they’d saved for the cookies.
“Don’t get crumbs in them,” Buck exclaims as he slaps Eddie’s hand away. Eddie squeaks, affronted.
“You give it to me, then,” Eddie says. There was a glint in his eyes that made Buck’s toes curl. “Put it in my mouth.”
Buck’s sure that he’s as pink as the jam in front of him as he takes out a spoonful. “Happy Valentine’s day to me,” he jokes as Eddie’s sinfully plump lips wrap around the spoon, eyes fixated on Buck.
Eddie’s eyes flutter closed as he swallows. Buck looks at his Adam’s apple and wishes he could put his mouth on it.
“That’s amazing,” Eddie breathes as he opens his eyes. “Good choice of fruit. What were you saying about Valentine’s day?”
Buck smiles a little. “You were, um, put it in my mouth? Give it to me? Come on, Eddie. I hope those are not pick up lines you actually use.”
Eddie, if possible, moves even closer to Buck at that, their chests barely a centimeter apart.
“You’ll know if I’m trying to pick you up,” Eddie says, the hint of promise in his voice traveling straight from Buck’s ear to his navel.
“Yeah?” Buck asks. Eddie inches closer until his chest is flush against Buck’s. His eyes are nearly black now, the brown irises swallowed by what Buck can now identify as desire. 
“Yeah,” Eddie says. Buck leans back just as Eddie starts to lean in.
“Prove it,” he says. 
Eddie looks like Buck spoke in an alien tongue.
“What? he asks incredulously.
“Prove it,” Buck repeats. The cookie dough lays forgotten between them, but Buck can’t bring himself to care. “Use a pickup line on me.”
Eddie blinks at him for a few seconds.
“Hey Buck,” Eddie asks. “Will you be my valentine this quarantine?”
Buck bursts into laughter and collapses against the counter.
“I hate you,” Eddie declares and turns back to the cookie dough. “I’m not going to kiss you like I’d planned.”
“We can’t have that,” Buck teases, grabbing the collar of Eddie’s t-shirt to pull him close. Eddie comes willingly, rolling his eyes. “Does valentine even rhyme with quarantine?”
“I’m a firefighter, not a poet,” Eddie claps back, and Buck leans in and kisses him before he can keep talking.
Eddie tastes like raspberries, sweet and tart under Buck’s tongue. Buck kind of wants to never stop kissing him. Eddie snakes his arms tightly around Buck until he’s got him pressed against the counter, his weight warm and solid against Buck.
“Just the quarantine?” Buck gasps as Eddie presses kisses down his jaw. “Do you not want me beyond that?”
“I want you forever, quarantine or not,” Eddie says. “I’ve kind of been in love with you for a year, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I wasn’t sure until you started saying sexy things to me just now,” Buck teases, and Eddie sucks a bite into Buck’s neck in retaliation. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you, Eddie.”
"Is it cliché that we’re doing this on Valentine’s day?” Eddie asks, running his hand through Buck’s curls. 
“I don’t care, I’ll take all the clichés if it’s you,” Buck responds.
Eddie kisses him some more at that.
***
They kind of forget the cookies for a long time after that, and Buck wants it on the record that Eddie is completely to blame.
“How is it my fault?” Eddie asks as they scoop jam into the baked cookies. They’re so late that Hen and Chim would be arriving any second now. Buck’s glad that they at least had time to hide the jam.
“You smeared jam on me so you can kiss it off and then bent me over the counter,” Buck snorts. “I think that makes it a little your fault.”
“You were the one who told me to put jam on your—” Eddie starts as the front door opens.
“What the hell is going on here?” Chimney inquires. Hen stands next to him, eyes taking in the disaster zone around them. They may have gotten jam on the counters while they were kissing. Buck makes a mental note to never tell Hen or Chim how they got together.
“Got a little messy baking cookies,” Eddie says breezily. “We’ll be done before you guys are done showering. Happy Valentine’s day.”
Hen and Chim figure it out, however, when they walk in on Buck and Eddie kissing in the kitchen two days later.
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becasbelt · 3 years
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42 pls and thank you baby anne (bonus points if you write into the sick fic)
42. “Smells suspicious.”
The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs barely reached Beca’s ears over the sound of her blowing her nose for the hundredth time that hour.
What was the point of taking cold medicine if it did absolutely nothing to clear your head?
“Hey, Bec.”
Chloe’s voice was gentle, almost coddling, and normally Beca would squint her eyes in annoyance over being pitied. Except, normally Beca didn’t feel like her head was stuffed full of cotton balls, so she supposed she could stand to be babied, just this once.
Beca threw her tissue onto the ever-growing pile on her floor and slumped back onto her pillows. “Hi,” she huffed, not even bothering to keep the pout out of her tone. Chloe’s eyebrows drew together in concern as she approached Beca.
“Not feeling any better?” Chloe asked, she pressed the back of her fingers against Beca’s forehead, and Beca couldn’t help but close her eyes at the contact.
“’M feeling just peachy,” Beca quipped miserably, though her stuffed-up voice lacked any of the usual bite that accompanied her sarcasm.
Chloe snickered. “So I see,” she said, removing her hand. Beca opened her eyes with a pout. “I made you a drink to help your throat,” Chloe continued, sliding a mug of… something, that Beca hadn’t noticed before.
Beca’s face scrunched together as she studied the warm liquid in the mug, deciding that she didn’t like the yellow-orange color. She lifted the mug and took as good of a sniff as she could with her clogged sinuses. “Smells suspicious,” she told Chloe.
Chloe bristled a little. “It’s just tea with honey,” she said. “Besides, it’s not like you can smell anything right now, anyway.”
Dammit, she was right.
“It’ll help, just drink it,” Chloe insisted, nodding her head emphatically.
Beca squinted one more time at Chloe, and then the drink, before taken a cautious sip. Upon swallowing, Beca immediately recoiled and pushed the mug back into Chloe’s hands. “Fuck, that was not just tea,” she gagged. “What else did you put in there, Chlo?”
“Just a little bit of lemon!” Chloe said, then immediately shrunk in on herself. “And maybe some cinnamon and peppermint and salt,” she finished sheepishly.
“Chloe,” Beca gasped in exasperation.
“I’m sorry! I just looked up things to help a sore throat, and I guess I figured adding all the suggestions together would be extra helpful,” Chloe explained, the regret obvious in her voice.
Beca softened. “That’s… actually really sweet of you,” she said relaxing back into her pillows once more. Chloe smiles at Beca’s words, and that makes Beca feel better than any special drink concoction ever will. “But maybe I’ll just stick to water for now.”
“I suppose that’s for the best,” Chloe relented, setting the mug down on Beca’s bedside table. “Try to get some sleep, too, today, yeah?”
Beca nodded in agreement, her eyes already starting to feel heavy at the thought of sleep. “I’ll try.”
Chloe hesitated for a moment before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Beca’s forehead. She took a moment to rub a thumb against the side of Beca’s head before straightening again, collecting her cursed drink and slipping down the stairs without another word.
Beca closed her eyes and let herself smile for the first time that day. Kisses were definitely better than any special tea, too.
send me prompts!
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Text
Touched
A Duff McKagan smut One Shot
Prompt: You go to a concert with one of your friends and band mates, who's having a thing with no other than the band's guitarist Slash. After the show you get to meet Duff McKagen and somehow end up having your first time with him.
MASTERLIST
Warning: sex (duh)
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"They're good aren't they?", Y/F/N shouted over the loud music. "Amazing!" "Told ya!"
We were dancing along to the loud music and enjoying ourselves. It had taken her quite some time to convince me to come with her instead of heading for the Troubadour with our other two band mates. Apparently coming with my bassist had been the right choice though.
After a world tour, a successful album and quite a bit more money in my bank account than before we had left LA, I still felt more at home right here. In a rundown club on the strip with a still upcoming rock band on stage.
Y/F/N and I had fit in perfectly. Nobody would recognize just the two of us having a great time and getting drunk. Except maybe the group of aspiring musicians and rising rock bands of the strip. In this circle everyone knew everyone, knew in which bands they had played, who they were associated with, had partied together before and so on and so forth.
That was exactly the reason why we had ended up here. The lead guitarist used to play in a band called Road Crew and had surely attended one of the parties at our trailer before. Y/F/N knew him and she had told me he was in a new band that was very close on getting a record deal. "You gotta check them out! Heard they're fuckin good", had been the argument that had won me over in the end. Not so much her initial reason to come here. That being the fact that apparently the guy had been an awesome fuck and she wanted to get laid by him again.
Now being here, I didn't regret it. I was having fun! And I was back in my usual habitat and in a situation that was familiar. If after the concert she wanted to leave with her black haired curly-head she was free to do so. Either I'd bump into someone I knew or would simply head home and call it a night.
The singer seemed familiar as well and if I remembered correctly Nikki had left his ass outside at one of their parties.
"Yo, what's the lead singer's name again?", I asked Y/F/N. "Oh that's Axl. Hollywood Rose, remember?" "Oh yea, right!"
I got why those boys were apparently very close to making it. Shit, was Guns n' Rosesgood!
Y/F/N had successfully gotten us all the way through the crowd to the stage, where we danced and sang along some more until the band was finished.
A few moments after the last song had ended the club put on some generic rock music and blasted them through the speakers.
"You gonna head backstage or wait here?" This wasn't the type of club in which the band would go off stage and head backstage never to be seen again. They had a small room for all of them to change and would then most likely come out to party. I knew, because we had played here before.
"He saw me, so trust me, he's gonna come to me", she grinned, and I once again admired her confidence.
It didn't take too long before Slash really showed up. He greeted me as well and congratulated on our album, so I told him what a sick guitar player he is. I give credit where it's due.
But I also understood that it was probably best for me to piss off now. So that's what I did. I figured I'd get one last drink and keep my eyes open in case of seeing anybody I knew. And for real I spotted a few people I knew from college who quickly waved me over.
After telling them the generic shit everybody wanted to know coming back from tour, it actually turned into a lot of fun to party with them. No coke but sure as hell a lot of alcohol.
It was hours later when they decided to leave and I had actually planned to leave with them
when I spotted a barkeeper, I knew. He had also attended a bunch of our parties and was a cool guy. So I sat down at the bar and joked around with him some more as the club kept getting emptier.
The club surely was anything but empty at one point, neither was it packed. It wasn't so crowded anymore, and I had completely lost track of time when someone sat down on the barstool next to me.
I didn't pay much attention and simply took another sip from my vodka lemon until he said: "You know, your friend's already gone, right?"
I turned to face him and recognized him as one of Slash's band members, right after I had been speechless for a moment because of how handsome he was.
"Yea, I know", I nodded and added grinning: "So is your guitarist, right?" "Obviously", he answered laughing: "Should've seen him backstage after the concert, couldn't get to her fast enough!" I joined his laughter, finished my drink and looked around. "Your remaining band member's left with a groupie as well, huh?" "No, fuckin idea where they are", he smiled and waved over to Jimmy, the barkeeper: "Another one of these for the little Rockstar here and I take whatever she has."
"Thank you", I told him with a soft smile. He waved it off: "I'm Duff McKagan by the way." "Y/N Y/L/N", I replied. "I know, was at one of your trailer parties before ya guys became famous." "Oh were you?", I asked surprised. I would've bet I'd recognize such a pretty face. Blond, tall, bassist. I was in fuckin heaven.
"You then ones with the trailer with the IV in the living room, right?" "Yupp, that's us", I nodded with a smirk: "Then I'm sorry for not recognizing you..."
"Don't worry bout it", he smiled: "Doubt we got the chance to talk...not that I wouldn't have wanted to..."
"We should have! Then I probably would've listened to you guys sooner! And Oh. My. God. You're amazing!", I gushed excitedly. "Thanks! Hoping it'll get us where you are now." "You'd have to be a complete idiot not to fuckin sign you!"
"I fucking hope so", he sighed and took a big gulp from his vodka: "You the song writer, right?" He suddenly changed the topic.
"Yes, why?" "I dunno", he shrugged: "When I first saw your music video on TV I couldn't help but fuckin wonder what complete asshole hurt this beautiful girl..."
His words hit me like a fucking train, because they reminded me of my former best friend Nikki Sixx, whom I had been stupid enough to fall for, but soon my drunken brain focused on something else: He thought I was beautiful...
"An asshole that's no longer a problem", I laughed. "Well cheers to that", the blond guy smirked and clicked our glasses: "Lucky me."
I returned his smirk and soon felt his hand on my thigh.
"How come you didn't leave with a groupie?", I tease him and sip on my glass. "Not my thing..." "What an utter liar", I thought. "And also", he went on: "I saw you in the crowd dancing next to your friend and knew exactly who to go for."
The way he looked into my eyes send chills through my body and I quickly took another sip from my drink.
"You alright?", Jimmy asked from further away to make sure I was fine, and I quickly nodded.
"You're pretty confident, huh?", I asked Duff. "Why?" "Well, what if that one girl you decided to go for wasn't interested?", I teased him.
Was I interested? I mean...damn he was hot and watching him on stage had been hot! His touch on my thigh made me feel hot! But for fuck's sake I didn't knowhim!
"That would be pretty sad for both of us", he shrugged and winked at me before looking at his glass and away from me.
Was he right? God, I could already feel the heat inside of me rising and a quiet voice in the back of my head reminded me that I had seen him shirtless on stage and wondered what it would feel like to touch him.
But damn it, I was drunk!
He lit a cigarette and I gave my everything not to stare at his lips for longer.
"I liked you better when you were funny and not seductive", I shrugged as well with a smirk and made him laugh. "Ouch, thanks!", he replied smiling: "In that case you'd have loved to see me lookin like an idiot when I got to Slash and your friend hours ago just to realize your gone."
"Maybe you should've hurried more, you know, the way your friend Slash did", I teased him more and calmed my nerves.
"He's just a funny guy", I told myself: "Joke around with him some more and then get your ass back home."
"Well, in the end you waited here for me anyway." "Rockstars don't wait for anyone", I joked and took the cigarette from him to take a drag as well. I could tell he was staring at my lips this time but was ripped out of his thoughts when I handed it back.
He cleared his throat and said: "Always wanted to fuck a rockstar."
I almost choked on my drink. That was my sign. The cards were on the table. I should tell him that this certainly wouldn't be the night he'd get what he wants and leave! But I was curious... so damn curious...
I couldn't deny that I was attracted to him! Maybe I could at least make out with him...find out what his lips felt like...there was nothing wrong about that.
"That's what the girls always tell you?", I tried to mock him but was too nervous to sound convincing. "You're quite a joker, huh?" "At least tryin to..."
"It's cute", he admitted. "Good, because I never run out of stupid jokes..."
"Trust me, I'd know a way or two to shut you up", he grinned to himself and took a last drag before he stubbed the cigarette out.
God, his words went straight to my core and put pictures in my head I hated but at the same time desperately wanted to happen. I wanted to find out what he wanted to do!
"Ya know what I always wanted to find out?", I asked without thinking about it twice. "What is it, gorgeous?" "If it's true that bass players don't just have skilled fingers when it comes to playin instruments."
I cracked the joke before I had thought about it. Why? Because I always had to listen to idiots tell me that and because I somehow really wanted to find out.
His smirk grew winder than I had seen it all night and it made me knees weak. "I can definitely show ya that."
"How about you first make me shut up?"
I had barely finished my sentence before I felt his free hand in my neck and soon enough his lips on mine.
I felt like melting right then and there! His lips moving against mine felt so good! But what started as a rather innocent kiss quickly became more heated. I grabbed the hem of his leather jacket, not to pull him closer but because I needed to hold on to something, anything."
His lips were moving against mine before he gently captured my lower lip with his. It was hard not too moan on the spot! And even harder when I tasted his tongue.
I damned those stupid barstools! I wanted him closer, needed him closer.
When we finally separated again my entire body was totally antsy!
"Speechless?", he asked teasingly. God, he was so damn hot!
I tried to think of something witty and fun, but I couldn't summon a single proper thought.
"You know...to prove the other thing we should probably move this somewhere more private...", he whispered into my ear and hadn't goose pumps already covered my entire body they definitely would have after he seductively kissed my neck.
I should tell him no. I should move my fucking ass back home.
But when he leaned back again and all I could think about was how I buried my fingers in his blond hair, I just nodded...
He had his arm around my waist when he let me out of the club and down strip. It was still dark and it wasn't hard to tell that there were still a bunch of parties going on in other places as well. Like I said, I had long lost my sense for time.
"My place ain't far from here", he told me and I nodded. Excitement was bubbling inside of me and gosh, I couldn't wait to kiss him again!
All worries and negative thoughts had been long gone as we walked through the cold night. I kept looking at him from the side and tried to hide the excited smirk on my lips. But
damn, he was even taller than I had guessed and looked so handsome in the dim glow of the streetlights.
I didn't know what to say. Where words needed?
I realized how he eyed me as well and a smug smile appeared on his lips. Shit, I wanted him. I had never felt this need for someone before, but I had also never allowed myself to get this carried away.
I bit my lower lip and tried to clear my thoughts but that attempt was quickly thrown completely over board when he suddenly pressed my back against the closest wall and kissed me. The kiss almost took my breath away.
Here I was standing on the strip with my back against the wall of some club and making out with a complete stranger. And it felt so right.
"Duff", I whimpered against his lips in a needy tone. "We should probably keep going, huh?", he smirked a little out of breath himself. "Except you consider this somewhere more private", I said with a grin on my lips but felt how he led me on with his arm around my hips once again.
"Wouldn't mind", he shrugged and lit another cigarette: "But I wanna take my time with you."
I swallowed hard and accepted the cigarette he wanted to share with me.
The next five minutes of us walking passed mainly without much talking but then I found myself in his one-bedroom apartment.
Alone with him now I felt the nervousness set back in.
So this was how it's gonna be?
"You want somethin to drink or anything?", he asked from behind me and I shook my head. Soon I felt him against my back with his arms around my body and his lips on my neck and shoulder.
I suppressed the low moan that had wanted to escape my lips and simply leaned back against him.
He had soon gripped the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. A shiver ran through me but his warm hands that travelled my body soothed me and quickly found the clasp of my bra and opened it.
He was still kissing my neck when he whispered: "Turn around to me." I obeyed immediately.
The sight of my bare breasts exposed before him made him fight to contain his arousal as he hardened in his boxers. He lowered his head and wrapped his lips around my nipple. He sucked gently and I failed to find something to hold onto.
It was weird to be almost naked in front of him while he was still fully dressed, at the same time it made me feel excited.
"Get on the bed, I got something to prove", the blond haired told me smirking and I nodded. I tried not to run to the bed and could barely believe how caught up in the moment I was. My entire mind was foggy!
I watched him take off his leather jacket before he walked over to me and moved my thighs apart so he could lay down between them.
I could feel him hard against my center through our clothes but before the nervousness consumed me he had his lips on mine again and consumed my senses instead.
His body was pressed against mine and he traced his fingers down my body. He stroked over my thighs and spread them even more before moving to my panties.
Through the fabric he pressed his hand against me and gently rubbed me. A soft moan left my lips and I stirred underneath him and spread my legs further. Duff smirked against my breats and took my nipple in his mouth again as he began to rub me through my panties. His fingers ran over my slit as heat began to pool and I whimpered.
"Duff", I moaned softly.
He pulled away from my titts and brought his lips to mine while his fingers rubbed at my clit.
My eyes were closed, and I was lost in the moment, but I managed to bring my hand to his head and tangled my fingers in his blond, long hair. My lips parted as another soft moan left them and Duff pushed his tongue inside my mouth, massaging my tongue with his own.
His fingers were moving in circles over my clit and I whimpered against his lips as my panties became more soaked with each move he made.
I moaned and writhed on the bed as his hand travelled beneath my panties. Both of us moaned as he ran his middle finger between my folds, feeling how wet I was.
I whined his name again and lifted my hips to meet his hand.
He pushed his erection against my thigh and instinctively I reached down and stroked him through his pants.
"God you’re so wet for me", he growled in in my ear.
I bit my lip and raised my hips when suddenly he pulled away from me.
He knelt on the bed and smirked at me before ripping my panties down my thighs and tossing them to the floor.
My heart felt like it was about to pump out of my fucking chest.
He moved between my legs and crashed his lips against mine.
His fingers made their way back to my core and he pushed his middle finger inside me with ease, making me gasp.
"You want me to fuck you?", he pulled his finger out teasingly slow.
I bit your lip and without thinking I nodded as he pushed his finger back in.
He added a second finger, stretching me slowly: "But not yet."
He pulled his fingers away and I whined at the emptiness. But before I could protest Duff spread my legs apart and laid between them.
He ran the flat of his tongue along my slit, making me gasp and clutch at the sheets.
His tongue ran over my clit in two slow strokes.
I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and let out a moan.
His tongue ran over my clit in slow circles and he reached his hands up to squeeze my breasts. When he sucked at my clit I let out another moan into my hand and Duff pulled away.
"Oh No, baby", he told me and moved my hand from my mouth: "I wanna hear you."
I bit my lip and watched as he went back to his slow licks and his eyes never left mine as he ran his tongue over me. I felt like I was burning.
I squeezed my eyes shut and reached down, wrapping my fingers in his blond hair and raised my hips to meet him. He pulled back, only slightly and ran his fingers over my slit. He let out a growl as he watched, pushing two fingers into your throbbing pussy.
"Duff", I gasped and already felt extremely full. "Don't panic", I told myself and threw all worries away when he began to pump his fingers in and out of me, slowly at first before he increased his speed.
"You like that, baby girl?"
I moaned in response and he stopped his movements. He sucked at my clit and the change in pleasure made me squirm.
I whined and lifted my hips to meet the strokes of his tongue.
He moaned against me and the vibrations sent pleasure soaring through my veins. He began pumping his fingers once more, curling them against my wall and rubbing against my gspot.
I writhed on the bed, clutching at the sheets because of the amount of pleasure.
"Fuck..."
"You gonna cum for me doll?", he growled against me.
I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip as my orgasm coursed through me. MY walls clenched around his skilled fingers and his tongue didn’t stop running over your clit, making my legs tremble.
When my orgasm started to slow down he got up and took his clothes off, throwing them anywhere. Before he sat back down between my thighs, I watched him put on a condom through barely open eyelids.
Without a warning and therefor without giving me the time to over think this he plunged his cock into me. I gasped at his size and raked my nails down his back.
The pain was sharp and unknown.
"God you feel so good baby."
He crashed his lips against mine, stifling my moan as he pulled out of me slowly.
"So tight." He pushed into me again. I was frowning and pushed my eyes closed as I was trying to adjust to him. Fuck, he felt so good at the same time this hurt so bad but in the best way possible.
I moaned and ran my hands over his back as he set a pace with deep and slow thrusts. He wanted me to feel every inch of him entering me and he lost himself in the little whimpers I made as he pushed into me. After a few more thrusts when the pain was starting to die down, he pulled out of me and knelt on the bed.
"Rollover", he ordered.
I bit my lip and obeyed, kneeling in front of him on all fours. Duff let out a breath as he looked at my ass.
I felt him run his cock over my center before he pushed into me once more.
"Duff...", I hissed.
His change of angle set a whole new sense of pleasure and he set a faster pace. It hurt but felt so good... His cock slammed into me and I collapsed against the mattress, falling onto my elbows, arching my back more in doing so.
He brought his hand down swiftly, slapping my ass and making me gasp.
Duff gripped my hips and I moaned between breaths as he picked up a fast and hard pace, slamming into me hard and fast. He leaned forward and pulled my hair into a ponytail, his thrusts never slowing down. With a gentle tug at my hair he pulled me back onto all fours and with his spare hand he reached under me.
His fingers found my clit and he rubbed clumsy circles. I bit my lip, trying to contain my moans and arched my back. He leant over me, his breath on my shoulder and hearing his staggered breathing sent me into overdrive. He released his grip in my hair only to wrap his hand around your throat gently and pull me back enough so he could turn my head around to kiss him. Just what I needed.
"You gonna cum for me?"
I attempted to nod, which proved difficult with his grip on my throat. He didn't wait for an answer though and rubbed his fingers over my clit faster.
"Cum for me, babygirl."
I lost all control, my eyes rolling back as the waves of pleasure rolled through me, sending shivers all over my skin. His pace was sloppy now and I knew he was almost ready as well. He slowly pulled away and turned on his back so I knelt down on wobbly legs. I removed the condom and licked along his throbbing cock and he let out a low moan. I took him as deep as I could and began to suck him off until he grasped his cock and pumped it a few times before coming in my mouth.
I swallowed his load and his deep moans send a few last chills through me.
Both of us collapsed against the sheets, a sheer layer of sweat covering my skin as I tried to catch my breath.
"Shit that was good", he exhaled and placed a lazy kiss on my shoulder. "Yes, it was", I thought and grinned to myself, trying to process what had happened.
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coldsandfluff · 3 years
Text
Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)
Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚
So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!
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Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.
As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.
Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.
Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.
Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.
The crash had been deafening.
Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.
They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.
It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.
But tonight, there was no way she could make it.
Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.
She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.
Just like her nose.
Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.
Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.
Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.
She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.
No reply.
Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.
***
Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.
She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.
Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.
100.8 °F. Figured.
She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.
She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.
Annabel sat up, startled.
“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.
Zack.
Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.
“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.
Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.
Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.
“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”
Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”
“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”
All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”
Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”
“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.
Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.
“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”
“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”
“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.
“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”
Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”
Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”
Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.
Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”
“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”
Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.
He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”
Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”
Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.
Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”
She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”
“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”
Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.
Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”
Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”
He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”
“Bless you.”
Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”
Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
***
Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.
It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”
Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.
It was Alex. Alone.
“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.
Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”
He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.
Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”
Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”
“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”
Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”
Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”
Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”
Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.
“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”
Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”
Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”
“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”
“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”
“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”
Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”
Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”
“Deal.”
After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.
All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.
And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.
THE END
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nikethestatue · 3 years
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Spy Games
Elriel Month - Day 3
Spying
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Spying Lessons
Elain, the pretty, polite, courteous sister, who spoke well and moved gracefully, was also one who was never considered with any seriousness by anybody. Not her mother, not their weak, gentle father, not the imperious, sharp-tongued Nesta, or the self-assured, determined Feyre. However, she was a merchant’s daughter, and she was as sharp-eyed, as Nesta was sharp-tongued. 
She inherited the trait from their father--he was always able to spot a deal, or a weakness, a loophole and he used it to his full advantage when making deals. She watched him, and learned how to use her words, how to compliment and smile, how to appear innocent and helpless, while seeking favors and looking to get what she wanted. It worked. It worked with everyone--it worked with Nesta, worked with their servants (when they had them), and when they didn’t, and had nothing, Elain always managed to charm someone at the market for an extra apple, a couple of bread rolls, or a swath of cloth. Even Lord Nolan was not immune to her charms, and even though there were better offers from others, he encouraged Greyson to court Elain, despite her family's ‘reputation’. Elain loved Greyson, but she also watched and noticed. She saw groves of ash trees, the number of sentries patrolling the walled estate, and how many guard dogs there were. She didn’t even try, but she noticed...and counted...and remembered.
Nuala was good. Smooth and discrete, she’d never be suspected of keeping tabs on Amren. Though Amren was a vengeful Angel of a young god in her previous life, and she probably knew what Nuala was doing. Yet, Nuala was not so good as to suspect Elain. Because Elain knew as well. It came as a surprise, but it was apparent to Elain that Nuala closely monitored Amren, as well as Varian, when they were around. 
They were making lemon cakes in the kitchen--Elain and the twins. Baking and cooking--many assumed that that’s what Elain was good for--the kind, tidy, domestic Elain. What no one, except for one person, was privy to was that these chores quieted the roaring in Elain’s head. They silenced the visions, cleared the pounding in her skull, gave her a sense of normalcy, even if for only a little while. 
“What do you think Varian reports to his High Lord?” the question startled the twins and they exchanged quick looks.
Elain’s face remained placid, as she busied herself with grating lemon zest. “Do you think they laugh?” she chuckled. “Our court is dramatic, to be sure.”
The twins were silent. 
“Is it wise though,” she continued, uninterrupted, “to have a representative of another Court so closely entwined with the affairs of the Night Court?”
“The High Lord trusts Prince Varian,” said Cerridwen, her voice neutral.
“Perhaps.”
Elain stirred the zest into the custard and there was silence, the twins assuming that the conversation was over. 
“Does Azriel?” she suddenly asked.
They stared. 
“Does Azriel trust Varian?” she pressed.
“The lord,” began Nuala, but Elain interrupted. “Not High Lord,”
“Lord Azriel,” corrected Nuala, “does what he must to keep the Night Court safe.”
That explained everything.
“Could Azriel use another pair of eyes and ears?” Elain didn’t even know where the offer came from. Perhaps, it stemmed from the desire to be useful, to offer something of herself that so few knew that she even possessed. She turned to the twins and stared them down, her gaze unflinching.
“Teach me,” she pleaded. “Teach me what you know. What and how you do it. Please.”
“Lord Azriel may not approve,” countered Cerridwen softly.
“Let’s not tell him,” whispered Elain,
“Lord Azriel will know.”
“Eventually. I am not asking you to lie to him,” she added quickly, sensing that this was the reason for their hesitation. “Just don’t tell him. Not yet. Teach me, a little something, and then I’ll decide if it’s for me. Please. I,”
“Fine,” said Nuala. Cerridwen gave her a silent look of admonishment and surprise, but did not argue. Perhaps that would come later. “We’ll teach you the way he taught us.”
“Yes!” Elain’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Goodness, she hadn’t felt this excited in….well, forever.
The lessons were not what she expected, but she did not question them.
There were no weapons, or peeking through peepholes, or breaking locks.
At first, it was a little bit boring even. Odd requests, such as making conversations with random faeries--in the park, on the street, at the markets. The twins would point out a fae and order Elain to go and start a conversation. It lasted for weeks, and she even grew frustrated, thinking that they were just humoring her and these ‘lessons’ were nothing but a game. Until one day, Nuala told her to obtain specific information. She pointed at an elderly male Fae and requested, “Approach. Come back with the following information--did he serve in the first War, what rank, does he have children, how many, and what is his favourite breakfast?”
“What?” Elain stared in confusion, but Nuala’s face remained inscrutable. 
“Is there a problem?” asked Nuala. Her tone of voice...well, the tone was very much Azriel’s.
Elain shook her head and said, “no”, before crossing the street and approaching the male fae.
The realization that she could do this was thrilling. At once, she understood why she spent all those weeks approaching and making conversations with all those fae. She found ways, ways to ingratiate herself to them, to mark something small, but unique to each one, and then weave a connection around that tiny tidbit. It worked every time. 
The elderly male fae had a small, but noticeable limp. This was Elain’s opening. He was hauling a basket of groceries, and she approached gently, offering help. Oh, he couldn’t possibly trouble such a pretty lady. And she was a High Fae to boot. No, no, thank you, he could manage. Not a problem at all, she was walking that way anyway. What was he making for dinner with all those vegetables? Oh, soup? Did the wife send him to the market? Oh, a widower? So sorry. Were there children to assist? Three? That’s good that they helped out…
“He was a Captain in the Third Legion during the first War. He is a widower, with three children--two male, and one female. Three grandchildren as well. He usually eats leftovers for breakfast, because he is too lazy to cook, but his favorite breakfast are almond croissants from the Brea Bakery,” reported Elain.
A small, satisfied smile touched Nuala’s lips.
So the lessons continued. She was ordered to obtain more detailed information, and in places which were harder to access. She did. Sometimes, she failed, but rarely.
In addition, Cerridwen began training her on walking. 
Walking? 
Walking.
“Make your presence unknown,” she explained and Elain only nodded. Sure, she would learn to walk, if that’s what was required. She learned how to roll her feet in such a manner that they were completely silent with every step that she took. Learned how to notice her own body, its presence, and the space that it occupied. And learned how to make it unknown. How to melt into shadows, stand near someone and have them be unaware of her, sneak quietly into rooms and spaces. It took a month, maybe longer. Meanwhile, she learned other tricks. How to swap papers, how to pull documents with a flick of her wrist, how to read upside down (very difficult). 
“Could you take this to Lord Azriel please,” Cerridwen handed Elain a folder. 
“Um...yes, of course,” Elain took the folder, a bit surprised that Cerridwen couldn’t deliver it herself, but by the time she was going to ask, Cerridwen had disappeared.
First things first--Elain didn’t know where Azriel was.
The River House was enormous, so she started with Rhysand’s office, but it was empty. She peeked out into the garden, but only saw baby Nyx and his nanny, who was attempting to contain Nyx on a picnic blanket, and failing. Elain smiled. Nyx crawled like a fiend and made an aggressive beeline towards the fluffy peonies. No doubt, they’d be trampled and pulled soon enough. Especially, if the nanny wouldn’t take her eyes off the handsome delivery male who was standing by the gate and flirting with her.
Elain closed her eyes. Smell. Sense. They haven’t gotten that far in their training yet, but Azriel’s scent--oh, she knew it well. The most delicious scent to ever hit her nostrils. The one scent that she craved and hungered for above all others. Even in this huge house, she could isolate Azriel’s scent, as it rose above all others, at least for her. The strongest trail led to Azriel’s bedroom, which was unsurprising, even if he did not spend much time here anymore. He and Rhysand met to discuss matters of state, and then there were the mandatory ‘family dinners’ that Azriel attended. They used to be obligatory, but after the last Solstice, they became mandatory, by order of the High Lord. 
No, Azriel wasn’t in his bedroom. She followed the scent down the hallway, past the drawing room, then up the side stairs. Ah. She should’ve guessed. There was a terrace that overlooked the garden that Azriel favored. Sometimes, she thought that he observed her from there, when she tangled with weeds and seeds. But that couldn’t be. Not after the fiasco during the last Solstice and him pulling away from her with no explanation. A momentary lapse of reason on his part.
She spotted the spread of his wings. A smile touched her lips. How things were different before, when he was so comfortable around her. When he’d come and sit with her in the garden, sunning his wings, doing his work, both of them enjoying each other’s company without the need to talk. All of that somehow crashed and burned, and she didn’t know why and how to bring that intimacy back.
“Azriel,” she said, “Cerr,”
Azriel flinched and whipped his head to her. His eyes blew wide at the sight of her, standing in the doorway.
“Elain...Phhh, you startled me….” he muttered hoarsely.
And the Spymaster of the Night Court shifted with discomfort. 
She had surprised him. 
“Sorry,” she murmured and handed him the folder. “I apologize. Cerridwen asked me to give this to you.”
He was still staring at her, as if processing what had occurred. His hazel eyes raked over her body, settling on her feet for a few moments. It was like he was trying to discern how she managed to approach him so silently.
“Umm, thank you,” he said and opened the folder. It was empty.
Neither one said anything to each other, and Elain turned and stepped back into the house, her cheeks flushed.
As she hurried down the hall, Cerridwen and Nuala both appeared in front of her, grins plastered on their lovely angular faces.
“What?!” she snapped. 
The grins widened.
“There was nothing in the folder!” she exclaimed, irritated.
“No,” agreed Cerrdiwen. “But you passed the first phase of your training.”
“You surprised Lord Azriel.”
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