#i have cramps ://// i need to get work done so very badly but unfortunately i will not be standing up for 1-2 business days

[haunthouse]

screams of anguish and pain and agony and suffering

#kaylee.txt #i have cramps ://// i need to get work done so very badly but unfortunately i will not be standing up for 1-2 business days #i did remember i own a heated blanket tho so im curling up with that n hoping it helps #i need to figure out a tag for 'meaningless liveblogging abt inconsequential minor challenges in my life that i used to toss on twitter'

[kisses4lao]

leans into the mic ... period sex with kenshi ..... ? /nf

blind or not, either works; do what you want, comrade i j- i just need him very badly PFFJNRHJFJ

here's a pic of your favorite pookie shmookie wookie bookie boo beekeeper btw (wheezed typing it but i am, in fact, putting respect on his name bestie)

Oh em geee

How could I resist when you add such a breedable pic of pookie shmookie wookie bookie boo of who is also a beekeeper???? I simply cannot

I've been kind of into Kenshi as of recently,,, most fics with him are poly with Johnny and that's cool and all but Johnnys just not for me 4 realz

Tw/cw: AFAB reader, blind Kenshi it's relevant to the plot, you guys are dating but it's only mentioned like twice, humongous blood kink(it's Kenshis), pet names (princess, beautiful), smiley Kenshi, he's just happy to be there, probably incorrect sento usage, finger fucking, cursing, piv, pwp ish, reader is embarrassed bc period blood smells, Kenshi is a man tho so he doesnt care

Not proofread get over it

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

Kenshi has always been a loving and compassionate person. Given that you're his girlfriend, he's shown a side of himself that he's shown very few others. He's a man who loves date nights and taking things slowly just as much as he loves doing things in the heat of the moment.

Period sex was something he was more than willing to do. If he thought he could help your pain by outweighing it with pleasure, he'd be on his knees in mere seconds. As much as he loves seeing you squirm underneath him, he'd be more than willing to just cuddle you until it was over. At the end of the day, the choice was always yours.

He couldn't help but want to take you in those moments, however. Something about you bleeding for days on end did something to him. While he knew that you must hurt, your cramps have been killing you all day and you can't walk because of them, some part of him just wanted to have your blood dripping from him as he made love to you.

In short, dating you was how Kenshi realized he had a blood kink. It's mild to the point he doesn't think about it often, but when you're on your period, he practically goes insane. All he wants to do is be near you, to touch you, all that good stuff.

Kenshi wouldn't even realize he had a blood kink for the longest time. He'd be so overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands and cock covered in blood and practically getting high off the smell he couldn't focus on anything but finishing. It was only until later when he was laying in the bath tub with you that he'd realize that he's never felt like this with anyone, just you. He'd eventually come to the realization that period sex gets him so turned on because of his blood kink and ends up embracing it more.

That being said, when you got the news Kenshi was blinded due to a series of unfortunate events, you had spent sleepless days and nights waiting for him to come home.

And he did.

It took you both a while to get used to his new living condition, but you made it work. Since one of his senses got removed, this meant his other senses were heightened. Taste, hearing, touch, but most importantly, smell.

His sense of smell got much stronger than he'd expected, he could smell practically anything, but he had specifically made it a point to familiarize himself with your scent. Your perfumes, body wash, shampoo, just you in general. He made sure he knew what you smelled like, that way he knew it was you.

So when you got on your period, he could tell before you did. You and him were sleeping together, cuddling as usual. He woke up first and upon waking up, he was hit with a smell he hadn't noticed the night before. It was a familiar one, just much stronger than what he's used to.

He was practically stunned. He didn't really know what to do, considering you guys haven't done much since his premature blinding. He felt like waking you up, telling you that he needs you as he began to feel the familiar feeling of his cock straining in his boxers.

But he resisted. He had to, would you really want to be woken up over this? He was able to watch you slightly through sento, being mounted on your wall in front of your shared bed, he could see you both decently enough. You didn't show any signs of movement, nor signs you were awake.

He could feel your soft breaths puff onto his collar bone as he could feel his cock twitch. He could feel you shifting in the bed as he watched you through sento. He could see you were starting to wake up, and cuddled into his chest more.

You placed small kisses on what he thought was your face (it was the top of your head but don't tell him) as you woke up more from the feeling. Your small giggles filled the room as you playfully pushed back, locking him into a sweet kiss before laying your head next to his.

"Morning Kenshi," was all you currently had the strength to say. "Morning beautiful" He replies back with his usual smile. He always loved calling you pet names, specifically in the morning, so this wasn't out of the usual.

What was unusual, however, was his heavy breathing. It was slightly faster than usual, and specifically through his nose... You found this odd, obviously, and you began to think about what could be different. It was obvious enough that he was soaking in your scent, he always has, but nothing was out of the usual. Nothing that you knew yet, at least.

You had thought back to last night when you and Kenshi had bathed together, you always had taken showers and baths together, but due to the fact he can no longer see anything, you've decided to help him with such. You used the same body wash, the same shampoo, conditioner... Nothing that he hasn't smelled already.

Then, it hit you. You were on your period. Of course you were, your body just had to choose the worst possible time for you to get your period. You internally sigh as you now understand why Kenshis been acting odd.

Kenshi could see you contemplating through sento, he could see how embarrassed you were. He felt bad for thinking such dirty things, maybe he shouldn't have been feeling like this, but he couldn't help it.

It wasn't that you were embarrassed by the fact you were on your period, it was that fact that he had an enhanced smell now. You knew that Kenshi was into period sex, it's just you thought it'd be embarrassing with the smell. You sigh aloud and get disappointed in how your precious pair of panties that you liked oh so much now have to be period panties.

Kenshi knew that you were upset by this, he just didn't know what to say. Should he come out and just say how the smell turned him on? It smells like you, just, enhanced. That's what he liked about it. It smelled like you, the pussy that he'd give his life for, THATS what he was into.

"I'm- sorry. It must smell bad-" he cut you off.

"It doesn't. It smells like you. Not your hair products, not your perfume, you. It's amazing to be able to know what you smell like, this is just enhancing it. I like it, honestly."

Although sweet, it was weird. You just didn't exactly expect a man to understand this sort of thing. You felt somewhat relieved, just a bit weird about the situation. He could tell by your facial expressions that you were. He took your hands in his and continued speaking.

"Your scent, knowing you're here with me throughout everything I'm going through, it brings me comfort. You bring me comfort. Knowing you're here, next to me, fills me with a joy you wouldn't believe. So no, waking up to the scent of you would never disgust me."

How poetic. He pulled you into a small kiss, relishing in how amazing you taste. He could smell a small bit of arousal form in you, panties getting some how wetter as he puts his thighs between your legs, prodding at your heat.

You whimper at the feeling, opening your mouth slightly in the process. Kenshi takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring it as he felt you grind on his thigh.

His hands unclasp themselves from yours as he took one and dragged it to your panties. Slipping his hand inside, he can feel the heat radiate off of your pussy, practically begging him to touch you. He gathers your wetness on his fingers, pushing one inside you as his thumb plays with your clit.

You moan out and break the kiss in the process. You lay your head next to his as your breathing became harsh, gripping the bedsheets as he continued his motions. "God I wish I could see you, I know you look beautiful like this." He bit his lip as he could feel you clench from the praise.

He slips in another finger and earns another moan from you. Kenshi could feel his cock twitching in its confines, begging to be inside you, but he needed to wait till you were properly stretched. You, however, had different plans. You could see the tent in his pants, and you were practically drooling over it. You placed your hand on his bulge, Kenshi lets out a surprised moan from it.

"Princess,, you're goin' to make me cum if you touch me like that. Good girls keep their hands to themselves, yes?" He questioned you as he continued his pace of finger fucking and clit rubbing.

You try your hardest to stifle your moans, but your back arching to the feeling of Kenshis fingers curling inside you wasn't something you could ignore. Your chest pressed against his as your soft hand squeezed his forearm.

Your whines and begs for release made Kenshi go faster, making you cum harshly in his fingers. He placed his fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and letting out a moan at the taste.

"Delicious as always, you treat me so well." He laughs as he climbs on top of you. He takes off his boxers and you make quick work of stripping yourself as well. He gives his hard cock a few strokes, he can feel you staring at him as he does.

"Look what you do to me princess, all for you." He gives you a cheeky grin before aligning his tip with your opening. He pushes himself inside you at a slow pace, taking in how your walls cling to him.

As he began to thrust into you, he could feel your blood painting his lower abdomen. He felt lightheaded as he could smell you on himself, small droplets of your blood fell down his thigh and he can feel himself cumming.

Luckily, he can control himself. Not when it comes to thrusting into you, though. Kenshi hooks both your legs onto his shoulders, his hands place themselves on your waist as he lifts you up enough to where his thighs are below you, keeping you elevated at all times. Hes thrusting into you at a high pace, high enough for your body to be shaking with every thrust but not enough for you to be overwhelmed.

His harsh pace continues as his hands angle you slightly lower, making him repeatedly hit your g-spot. You cry out his name and your hands fly to his head, tugging on his hair as he feels himself get closer.

"Close- Kenshi- I'm so-" you moan again as his grip on your waist tightens. Kenshi has to use sento to see you, but luckily, he was able to move the sword to a different position. He was able to see just how painted he was- how you both were painted in blood. His hips begin to falter as he gets lightheaded with pleasure once again.

He was also lucky enough to see your back arch as your head fell back in pleasure, coming on his cock in the process. "You did so good for me princess, I, ugh, I'm goin' to cum so hard for you," and seconds later, he lets out a deep groan before collapsing onto you, cum leaking out of your now abused hole.

It took you both a few minutes to get your breath back. Once you did, you just laid with each other for a bit. As you played with Kenshis hair, he rolls over, exposing his lower abdomen to you.

"You're covered in blood." You giggle out. Using sento again, he was able to see himself. He was actually, and within seconds he had turned back to you.

"Up for another round?" He asked with a smile.

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

A/n: to everyone who's been using my asks to say they appreciate my fics and the videos I use for headers, I love you. Except for that one person that said size kinks were disguised pedophilia, please stay far away from me

#mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x reader smut #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takashi x reader #kenshi smut #kenshi x reader smut #kenshi takahashi smut #mk kenshi #kind of hate this fic but oh well ig

[shiorimakibawrites]

The First Encounter (Part I of Alley Cat)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net/Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Author’s Note: This has already been posted on A03 but I figured cross-posting here wouldn’t hurt. This is my first Reader fic so some learning curve sound be expected. Part of series of interconnected one-shots.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary:  You have a surprise meeting on the roof while trying to retrieve your cat.

Series Masterlist

The First Encounter

by Shiori_Makiba

This was all Houdini's fault.

Your beloved ginger cat had adjusted well enough to being a pet but the former feral seemed to find the four walls of your apartment too confining. Especially when you had to put in longer hours than usual at work. The result was that he regularly escaped from your apartment.

Today was a case in point. Opposing counsel had finally stopped dragging their feet about discovery. Unfortunately, one of the lawyers had (apparently) poorly worded said discovery request resulting in your firm being sent a proverbial mountain of mostly useless paper to shift through for the actually useful information that you wanted. Being the paralegal assigned to this case, most of that time-consuming and rather tedious work fell on your shoulders. It was nearly midnight before you were allowed to go home.

When you opened the door to your apartment, Houdini decided to treat you to his second favorite method of escape – darting past your legs and disappearing down the hallway before you can close the door. You groaned in frustration. You were tired. Your feet hurt. You wanted to take off your bra.

It was tempting to let him roam around. He'd probably bet back by your door in the morning expecting food. But while he hadn't figured out how to get out of the front door of the building – yet – but he had figured out to get the roof access door open. Which meant he could get to the rooftop garden. Which meant you had to least try and get him. You didn't need him digging up your plants. Again. Or worse, your neighbors' plants. Mrs. Dudley on the second floor was still giving you the stink eye for the damage he had done to her petunias.

So you closed the door to your apartment and trudged your tired body up to the roof. Sure enough, the access door was ajar. You stepped outside and did a quick scan for Houdini. You didn't see him but while there was a certain amount of ambient light from nearby buildings and billboards plus the lights the super had put around the garden, it was still fairly dark up here in the middle of the night.

You pulled out your phone to use the flashlight app before remembering your phone was running on empty. You sighed and put the phone back in your pocket. You walked around the roof and through the planters, peering into the gloom and calling for Houdini. Who started meowing after he kept hearing his name.

The good news was that he wasn't digging up anyone's plants. The bad news that he had wedged himself into a corner that was just out of reach of your fingers. Probably just as well – Houdini didn't react well to being grabbed when cornered or in a confined space. You could try coaxing him out but wasn't sure how well that would work without food – your usual bribe for the cat.

It didn't work. He would inch close enough to get petted but danced out of reach as soon as you tried to get a grip on him. No hissing so Houdini obviously considered this was a fun new game you were playing together but you were getting very frustrated. And your legs were cramping from crouching for so long.

You stood up for a moment to stretch out your legs. You began to think about going back to your apartment to get some cat food to bribe Houdini . . .

“What are you doing?”

Startled by the unfamiliar male voice behind you, you shrieked and tried to turn around. Key word being tried. Your right ankle twisted in your heel just as your right leg decided to badly cramp, causing that leg to buckle. You would have fallen if a shadow hadn't darted forward and caught you.

A shadow with a broad chest and strong arms. Strong arms covered in protective armor. The lighting was just bright enough for you to tell that said armor was dark red and black. Wait, dark red . . . you looked over your shoulder to see something you had only ever seen in grainy photos on the news – a masked helmet with little horns on top of the head.

Daredevil. You immediately felt your panic start to recede. To be replaced by embarrassment. You were sure you weren't the only one in Hell's Kitchen who had idly wondered what it would be like to meet the Devil, had maybe fantasized about being rescued by him. From criminals, always in the nick of time of course. Nowhere in your fantasies had you pictured him rescuing you from your own clumsiness.

“T-Thank you,” you managed to squeak out and felt your face flush. Squeaky, barely audible thanks yous had also never been part of your fantasies. Imagination you was always so much cooler than real life you.

“No problem,” he said. His voice was deep and low, a raspy growling quality to it that sent a little tingle down your spine. He helped you stand on your own feet again, made sure you were steady before letting go and stepping back.

Despite the relatively poor lighting, seeing him in person told you those grainy photos hadn't done him justice. Only about half of his face was visible but what could be seen was top notch. Square jaw covered with the barest hint of beard and very kissable mouth.

The rest of him wasn't bad either. The armor's main goal might have been protective but it also accentuated the broadness of his shoulders, the solid muscle of his chest, the powerful arms and legs. Seeing him stand there, silent and clearly dangerous, it wasn't hard to understand why people thought he was scary.

It was not fear that was sending tingles down your spine and making your heart race. Not fear at all. The knowledge that you standing here, mildly turned on, only made the warmth in your face grow. You resisted the urge to press your thighs together, to squirm under his gaze. It wasn't your fault – he was unfairly attractive. The cocky smirk that started spreading across his face did nothing to cool your arousal.

“What are you doing here? It's awfully late to be gardening,” he asked.

“I was just –” You started to explain before being interrupted by the feeling of something brushing against your legs. You looked down and there was Houdini, rubbing against your leg and purring like he hadn't spent the last twenty minutes playing keep away.

“Trying to what?” Daredevil asked, his voice losing some of the growl as the smirk turned into a grin. It was clear that he was amused.

“Get my cat,” you answered, scooping up the cat in question before he took off again. Who continued to purr. Trying to butter me up after being a little shit. And it was working. “He escaped my apartment.”

“Did he?”

“Darted by my legs as soon I opened the front door."

“He do that often?”

“When he isn't sneaking out the window."

“Do you leave your windows open? That isn't safe,” he said, the firm sternness in his voice doing nothing to stop the tingles.

“No – they were closed. And locked,” you retorted and watched the grin return, bigger this time.

“Sounds like quite the escape artist.”

“Hence the name Houdini,” You said which only made him laugh. It was a nice laugh, filled with genuine mirth.

The carefree moment was shattered when Daredevil's head snapped up and all humor drained out of his face. He looked to the left, his head cocked in an odd tilt.

“Gotta go, someone needs help,” He said, then turned and ran across the roof before leaping to another roof and disappearing into the darkness.

“Bye,” you said to the empty air before heading for your apartment. You needed to sleep and you might need a cold shower. Daredevil had looked as good from the behind as he did from the front.

#daredevil #matt murdock x fem!reader #the alley cat series #the meet-cute

[nobathroombreak]

I know that y’all have been asking for the short Captain for a while so here’s Levi with the bubbly guts! I hope you enjoy :)

It’s common knowledge to Levi that Erwin gets constipated occasionally— though it’s hard to imagine the man sat on the pot, sighing as he realized the huge lumpy log widening his ring isn’t going anywhere without a lot of effort. It’s not common knowledge to Erwin, however, that the poor Captain is prone to an upset tummy. Living in the underground his whole life means that Levi’s stomach never fully got used to the hearty meals they serve officers. Even meager rations give him a bad case of gas and usually has him either letting slip a couple foul farts while on his horse, a disgusted look on his face from the stink he’s making, or holding it in all day till he’s alone in his quarters, free to blast away in private. Of course, Erwin isn’t aware of this when he invites Levi to a nice dinner of lamb chops and fine wine, a respectable, very filling dinner. Levi’s ready to explode by the time he’s done. His stomach is churning with a mushy poo and he still has a whole day ahead of him of babysitting brats. During drills with his squad, he’s even more snappish than usual; his squad all take turns trying to guess what’s worrying the Captain. They watch him sweat, sitting straight-backed on a barrel with a martyed face, perky butt clenched against a flood of diarrhea. Bad pre-diarrhea farts have begun to slip out from his rump, annoying the man to no end; he’s mortified at his own lack of control.

“Maybe his date with Commander Erwin went badly,” Jean suggests.

“Nah, he’s hungry! I know the face!” Sasha says.

“He’s disappointed in us. We need to be working harder,” Eren says, about to cry.

Mikasa, surprisingly, stays silent. She thinks she knows what ails the poor tiny Captain after turning a corner and hearing a wet sputtery fart shoot out from him the moment he relaxed. He had sighed quietly, the back of his neck heating up red as his toot lightened his belly. She had immediately retreated, probably the only one with the skills to escape undetected. For once, she feels solidarity with Levi, hoping he manages to get to a shitter before something unfortunate happens. After training, thankfully, that’s just what happens. Strutting stiffly, ready to explode, Levi gets out of the public eye and into his private quarter’s bathroom, immediately abandoning his air of poise as three rumbling farts dampen his white briefs. He shimmies around, cursing like a true Ackerman as his belt fights him. He finally gets his trousers and undies down and plunks his pale butt down on the seat, gassy diarrhea pouring out of him like a bucket full of mud. Urgent farts blast the wooden basin with more poo and Levi groans, gripping his cramping tummy. His toes squeeze in his boots as his full bottom dumps out a day’s worth of mushy shit. Bent double on the toilet, blasting out pure mush, Levi vows to decline Erwin’s generous offers in the future (this never happens my man is smitten).

[elizabeethan]

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal. 

  Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense. 

  Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch. 

  “She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

  True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.  

  First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit. 

  Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for. 

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag. 

  He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile. 

  “We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.” 

  Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.  

  “You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays. 

  He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?” 

  “Not yet,” the dumbass admits. 

  The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.” 

  I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him. 

  “There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?” 

  She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting. 

  “She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes. 

  “She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.” 

  “We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke. 

  “That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard. 

  He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse. 

  One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers. 

  “You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

  She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.” 

  Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets. 

  “What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep. 

  She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?” 

  In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.” 

  She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea. 

  “Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?” 

  She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time. 

  “I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head. 

  Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly. 

  She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves. 

  “You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.” 

  “What the fuck?” 

  “You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her. 

  “I did what now?”

  “I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?” 

  He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully. 

  “Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.” 

  “So you… you fell in love… with me…?” 

  “Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

  “I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.” 

  “Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.” 

  “Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

  “Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before. 

  “Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.” 

  “Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

#Captain Swan #Captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #the swan and her handler #cs ff #the swan ff #cs crack #crack fic

[hacked-by-jake]

Take you home ²

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞...

>𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷

Summary: Jake can’t accept that this has been done to you, the thought torments him, and all he wants is revenge, and he gets it.

Words: 4,2k

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, insulting

A/n: Well, hi.

So, this one has taken on some dimensions again, they weren’t planned, about 3k. Now, it is a bit more. Actually, the whole thing should not be quite so extensive, but well, once Jake starts, he doesn’t stop.

Thank you alls so much for the support in part one, I was really surprised. And thank you very much for wishing Part Two, which means a lot to me. ❤️

So, that’s a bit more related to alternative two of part one. Actually, it was supposed to get a little darker and generally the plan was different. The ending should be different and longer, but I think it’s good as it is now.

I hope you’ll like it.

And apologize for the mistakes.

(I think I wanted to say more but I forgot xD)

Anyway, have fun, stay healthy and take care of yourselves.❤️🌹🎭

There lies the hacker now, in the early morning hours, not even the sun has risen already, wide awake, full of emotions and agitated.

In his arms, you, fortunately asleep, deep and firm.

He also wanted to sleep, he has been trying for two hours but it doesn’t work. And how should he? After the past hours it is practically impossible to sleep.

The only reason you sleep is probably the effort you had to experience. Your body was finished after the shower. You were still shivering from the adrenaline, agitated and yet so terribly tired.

So now he lies here, doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to react, how to feel. TThe pure fear that lay in your voice when the call came suddenly, gives him goose bumps again, crawling all over his body.

This fearful tone of your voice won’t let it go.

What if he hadn’t been there in time? If he hadn’t been able to save you in time? If it took him a minute longer? If something had gone wrong?

He can’t even imagine what could have happened. At this horrible imagination in his head, he pinches his eyes tightly. Try to remove the images from his head that make him sick, he would like to vomit, so horrible is the thought of it. He shakes his head, tries to drive away the thoughts, but they don’t go away. His fingernails drill deep and firmly into the skin of his palms. It hurts, it’s uncomfortable, and if he still squeezes even harder, he’ll start bleeding, but he has no control over it. In his mind, the worst scenarios circle and he can only imagine, if even he feel so bad now, how bad did you feel in this moment?

He controls himself to be quiet, exhorts himself to loosen up again so as not to wake you. You need sleep. You deserve sleep. But these pictures, these fucking pictures, they're not going away. The imagination that someone would touch you- NO!

The hacker opens his eyes wide! He must not go in this direction, he must look straight out and make sure that you get your revenge, as you deserve! That he protects your honor, that he makes everyone see what happens when someone wants to do something bad to you.

He’s Jake, one of the best hackers in the world and now he’s gonna show what he’s capable of.

-

His breath is so heavy, so full of anger and hatred, so full of negativity that he would like to hit the next wall.

He bites his lower lip when he thinks about leaving you here alone. He needs to be in his study. He just has to find out who this guy was. That bastard.

Just really reluctant, actually he would just like to lie here with you, but he has to, he's winds cautiously out of your embrace.

He can’t lie here and wait, he has to do something. Now!

Even if he feels weird with it, he opens the laptop that is in his bedroom and directs it so that he can see your sleeping shape. He will simply connect the laptop to his PC to keep an eye on you. As soon as you get restless or wake up, he could be with you right away.

That’s how he’s gonna do it.

He gives you a final and gentle kiss on the forehead before going to his study.

-

After he has prepared his work setup and everything is ready, he wastes no time and immediately gets to work. Quickly scan the data of the man who was tracking you.

Everything that had ever happened in his life, the hacker would find out now. And of course, the most important information is quickly obtained.

Name

Age

Date of birth

Address

All bank accounts

His social security number

Where he grew up

As what he works

What friends he has

With whom he is friends

His pets

On what elementary school he went

On what high school he went

Who his parents are

The siblings

All information about each individual family member

And at the very end, the police certificate of conduct with all the information who are important for him. And that’s more interesting than he thought. The further he read the information from the police, the more his emotional state changes.

It starts with drug abuse

Bodily injury in two cases

Insult

Gun possession

Domestic violence against his ex girlfriend

....

The list is shockingly long: a two-year stay in a prison, probation and community service.

The further Jake read, the more worried he is that he couldn’t have been there in time with bad luck. But he’s all the happier he could save you.

At the same time, he’s thinking about telling you who the guy is, because he doesn’t know how you’re gonna take this information. But he would worry more about that later.

As he glances at the laptop’s camera, a smile creeps up on his lips. Meanwhile, you are lying on his side of the bed, your arms are tightly wrapped around his pillow and your head is pressing into the soft fabric, as if you were looking for his proximity in your sleep.

How perfect can a person be? How perfect is this beautiful being lying in his bed? Immediately the tingling starts in his stomach, as always when it comes to you.

He’s so terribly in love. So insanely strong.

Again, he begins to regret that it has not progressed further between you. Everyone knows that he loves you, and everyone knows that you love him. And yet you both have not yet managed to finally do what you both so much want. But the fear of destroying everything is so great. You two spend so much time with each other, become best friends, best friends who feel more for each other than just friendship.

In addition, his fear of putting you in danger is added. He is not a simple man, no one who prefers a regular daily life, no fixed working hours, no fixed income, even if he earns more than most others. As a hacker you have one or the other possibility. Nevertheless, he is still wanted by the government. Not as strong, and the danger is not as great as it was a few months ago, but it still exists.

But last night’s incident somehow inspired him to think, and he feels different when he thinks about it. He wants you, he wants you with everything you have, he wants you by his side. He always wants to protect you, he always wants to be there for you, he wants you by his side, he doesn’t want to live alone in this apartment anymore. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, he needs you, he has always done it and he will always need you, he wants you so bad!

This incident clearly shows that life is always uncertain, and this incident shows him that he is lying to himself. He wants to be able to say that you’re a couple, he wants it so badly. So fucking urgent.

"I want to share my life with you," the hacker murmurs, driving through his face with his hands. Now his thoughts have drifted in another direction again, but you’re just sitting in every corner of his mind. You are the biggest and most important part of his life and that since the first time you met.

But now something else is more important. After that, he can think of you a lot, but now revenge counts.

He breathes in and out again before turning back to the screens and begins to gather more information.

-

About half an hour later, he releases himself from his cramped posture. The further he delves into the life of the man, the more aggressive he becomes.

This guy’s not a petty criminal, the way he thought he was, this guy’s got dirt on him through and through.

And the further he reads, the more he wonders why this guy is on the loose and not in a maximum security prison.

From organized crime to gang activities. Drug dealing, counterfeit money, prositution. All the shit every gang is involved in.

Disgusting chat histories, images, threats of other people, extort protection money. And the hacker just assumed the guy is just a disgusting bastard. But he thought wrong.

And yet, it’s actually only good for him, really very good, because Jake has now a lot more options than he thought.

He thinks hard about how to proceed. How best to tackle this whole situation, so that he has the best chance of success.

But what’s also positive for is the fact that this guy really doesn’t deserve anything other than what the hacker’s up to.

To destroy a person’s whole life is actually nothing that he would do; he simply cannot reconcile this with his morality. Even if it’s about you, but now he’s not just doing it for you, he’s doing it for everyone. This is a favor he does to the whole society.

Oh and he’ll do it with pleasure.

-

Meanwhile, he has gained access to the man’s laptop and can take a closer look at the living room. He also got lucky and found some camera shots taken by a bakery that is on the street where you were being followed.

Unfortunately, it has no sound and yet it is more than enough. He saved the recording and censored you on it.You don’t have to be broadcast in video format all over the world.

But it is still clear that he's persecutes you. It is more bad than quite recognizable on the videos that he is angry and that he shouts something, but when you see the video, everything is explained by itself.

That was number one on his list.

Let's continue with point two.

And point two is a summary of all the information he could find that could even remotely involve anything criminal.

And this is a really long list, he can prove everything, he can prove every single point. With all the information that will help.

Videos, chats, pictures, recording of conversations. Locations, meeting places, other names.

Because his plan has changed, and it’s not just about destroying this man anymore, it’s about destroying all the criminals around him.

-

Point two, finish! Now, point three, and that’s the confrontation with the man.

The most important information is in front of him as he puts on his headset and leans back relaxed.

The recording program runs as soon as he turns on his microphone. The recording is automatically converted into the computer voice and then sent as a video along with his sign, the eye, as a gift to his new friend.

He puts one leg over the other and folds his arms in front of his chest.

"Hello Ted, my identity doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve made some serious mistakes, and about this, I will teach you now."

-

And send.

Soon the man’s cell phone will start ringing, and it will only stop when he gets up and then listens to the hacker’s nice message on his laptop, which will breaking his little world in which he lives.

But it’s his own fault.

A look at the camera of his own laptop tells him that you still sleep quietly and calmly, which makes him happy. -

The ringing of the mobile phone and the terrible ringtone of the persecutor annoy the hacker so slowly. He didn’t think it would be that long before Ted wake up. But when it finally happens and a door is opened, a slightly arrogant grin appears on Jake’s face.

It’s Showtime.

"What the hell?" grumbles the sleepy guy as Jake makes the video file pop up.

The eye flickers on the screen and Ted skeptically approaches it.

He pulls back his desk chair and sits down.

"What the fuck?" he hisses angrily and pushes a button on the keyboard.

"Hello Ted, my identity doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve made some serious mistakes, and about this, I will teach you now."

Amused and eager, Jake follows the course of the situation.

Ted becomes more and more hectic, the more facts the computer voice enumerates. He probably didn’t expect this to ever come to light. He wildly presses all the buttons he can find, tries to turn off the laptop but he has absolutely no control over it.

At the very end, after all the crimes have been enumerated, the computer voice informs him that he has video footage of his nocturnal activity.

"That was a big mistake, Ted, and it’s time you understood that you understand how unimportant you are in this world"

-

After Jake has decided to leave Ted alone, with the knowing that he can now say goodbye to his life as he knows it, he move on to point 4.

And point 4 involves sending all the information to everyone who can do something with it. But don't worry, that’s not the finale.

The finale will be something special.

Everything collected is sent first to the police in Duskwood. He doesn’t think much will happen, but the police will certainly not be the agency that will take care of Ted, in the end.

After the police, Jake sends the information to his place of work. He won’t be needing the job in a few hours anyway even longer.

Then his sister gets an e-mail with everything there is about her brother. Because Jake found out that poor girl always had to take care of him. Had to pick him out of the cell at night, had to pick him up of the hospital one or the other time and things like that. Among other things, good Ted broke into her apartment once, but this was not reported to the police. Jake saw in a chat that Ted promised to stop doing criminal things. This didn’t work out that way. The hacker feel sorry for the sister, she certainly doesn’t deserve it and yet this is about more than just that.

And after all the important people have received the information, he finally go to the final, which the hacker is most looking forward to before he can finally return to you.

Back to you, to his bed where you lie, this day can’t be more beautiful, can it?

Well, the morning show on TV sounds good, doesn’t it? The channel is littered with scandals and really unscrupulous means of getting attention.

No one will be angry with him if the actual broadcast is interrupted for a few minutes to do something good. And to appease his vengeance. All he has to do is fade in everything, play the video and the rest would come by itself. The spread on the Internet. The information is forwarded to other authorities like the State Police Authorities as it is about more than just the pursuit after revenge for his love. Gang crime is not liked by the state.

So then, curtain up, the final begins.

-

About half an hour later, now it is shortly before 9  in the morning, the whole took longer than he had expected, he sinks back on the soft mattress. Satisfaction spreads and seeing you sleep so peacefully also makes him tired.

Carefully he pulls the blanket over himself and then grabs again around your body to bring you back into his arms. He hides his head in your neck bend and a few moments he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He couldn’t stop himself from posting some things on Ted’s Instagram page for his personal feeling. Pictures that Ted prefers not to watch for the Internet, but Jake doesn’t care; in a few hours, Ted will never have access to the Internet again. Hopefully Ted makes friends in prison fast, or it won’t be so funny for him.

Well, don’t mess with the hacker’s love.

----------

When you open your eyes, Jake still lies peacefully asleep beside you.

His hair stands wildly off his head and he has put his arms protective around you. Immediately a feeling of home spreads within you and you smile.

His body nestles warm against yours and you wish you could always wake up like that.

Bu, if you didn’t have to use the bathroom.

Carefully peel out from under his arms without waking him.

With leaving Jake’s arms and getting out of bed, the first pictures of last night immediately come back into your head. A few moments you stare at the wall before you shake your head. You don’t want to think about it. Actually, you never want to have to think about it again, you just want to forget it, focus on everything that’s more important now. And this is you, your feeling that you don’t want to get involved in this situation, you don’t want to leave room for this man. You don’t want him to have room in your life, and you don’t want to investigate any further. Actually, you don’t want to know who this guy is. You just want to focus on how lucky you were, that everything went well, that Jake saved you, and that nothing happened to you.

Jake!

You want to focus on Jake! And most importantly, that you finally want to be with him! He was there to save you right away. He was ready to help you immediately, he protected you, especially the way he protected you. The way he sounded, as if he was doing everything he could to save you. And this irrational fear that this could not work with you two, it’s bullshit! You want him with everything he has and you don’t want to be just friends anymore. You long for his lips, for his kisses that don’t just go on your forehead or cheek. You want to finally be able to say that you are a couple, you want him so badly, so damn badly.

Like a miracle cure, the thought of Jake really distracts you. You didn’t even know where your thoughts went, it just happened. But it always is, it’s just in every corner of your mind.

-

After you left the bathroom, you turned on the coffee machine. You’d stay awake and pass the time until Jake wakes up and you could have some breakfast. While the coffee is cooking, you drop down on the small sofa in the hacker’s living room and decide to pass the time with a little bit TV.

You switch through the channels looking for something interesting but don’t really find something you like.

When the Coffee machine gives you confirmation that the hot drink is ready, you quickly jump up and leave the remote control there.

While you prepare your coffee, you listen to an advertisement about an electronic toothbrush and then one about the latest vacuum cleaner.

With your cup you go back and then put a thin blanket from the sofa around your legs.

The News Show that you sometimes see starts broadcasting.

And you really expected a lot, really a lot, but you never expected what was actually going on.

While the news announcer reports on a gang crime, a picture is displayed. There’s a man to be seen, and you’re a thousand percent sure that’s the man who chased you yesterday.

Silently and with your mouth open you are listening as a whole gang was arrested, warehouses and factories were stormed. Drugs and counterfeit money were confiscated and in the end, how a hacker uncovered all this.

During the narration about hacking another channel and the materials shown there such as images and video, your heart begins to beat faster and faster.

And when it is shown what was published there, you put your hand infront your mouth in shock.

"Oh my-" you watch the camera shots where you can clearly see the street, which is only a few streets away from your apartment.

And then you see a censored shadow running, a few moments later a man.

You and the man who was now identified as Ted.

Jake.

That was Jake, you know it!

You don’t know how to react. While the pictures and videos scare you, since this man met you yesterday, you feel moved to tears on the other side. When the hell did he do that?

Did he do it because of you?

Where does he get so much information? Sure, he’s a hacker but THAT?

When the news anchor finally ends her post with the words "This man will probably never see the light of day again" and "The whole Internet speaks about this man and the victim who was persecuted by him. When you see this, we wish you all well!"

You have the feeling that you are breathing again for the first time. Like you’ve been holding your breath all this time without noticing.

You stutter at things, try to explain, sort out and understand your feelings. But somehow, just like last night, it’s too unreal.

"You shouldn’t know that in this way"

Startled you turn around as Jake’s sleepy voice appears behind you.

He's leaning in the door frame and yawns once.

With an open mouth you stare at him, "Did you-?" but you break off immediately because you have no idea what to say.

"Is everything okay? Shouldn’t I have do that? I wanted to tell you myself but now it’s too late. I wanted to teach you gently," explains the hacker, and his gaze slowly turns into a worried one.

"Did you- I mean- you were -" you stutter, can’t bring out a normal sentence. Point you to the TV, to you and back to Jake.

"I’m sorry, MC, I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything," he explains straight away." It was just, I don’t know, I was so mad! I still am! This disgusting bastard was following you, he-"quickly breaks off. His hands are clenched into fists, his eyebrows pulled together and his breath accelerated. However, he doesn’t want to remind you unnecessarily, even if that didn’t work out so well through the news. He really has to hold back from screaming completely and somehow making sure that Ted gets more than what he already has.

"No Jake, I-I" you just can’t find the right words and before you know it, you threw yourself awkwardly over the sofa, rolled over it and stood two steps later directly in front of Jake. Without control, you reach into his neck with one hand and pull his head down towards you. Not quite gently your lips hit on his.

And just as quickly as the kiss came about, you finish it as quickly.

"Oh, um, I... so.. I-" you laugh nervously, still holding his head. "Um, sorry?"

Jake also laughs nervously.

"I shouldn’t have done that," a little embarrassed, you let go of his neck and kick a few steps away from him.

"No, no, everything was fine, I thought it was great, so I mean-" a slight redness adorns Jake’s cheeks.

"Sorry" you mumble with a much too high voice and try yourself on a grin that probably looks like you’re in pain. Jake makes an waving off hand move, then it’s quiet between you for a moment. You chew on the inside of your cheek and let your foot slide across the floor in a semicircle, "Did you..- Did you say you thought it was great?" You ask as unimpressed as possible, as if it were a question about the weather.

Jake’s eyes grow big, "Did you find it bad?"

"No, no, of course not!" you assure him quickly." It was great, I would do it again and again."

You sigh.

Smiling, you put one hand to your forehead and look back at the hacker. Jake smiles too, and then you start laughing out loud. Until you have to hold your stomach and the first tears run out of your eyes.

"We’re so ridiculous," you chuckle, shaking your head over you two.

"Do you think?" Jake asks, grinning, "I find us great together"

"Me too" you agree and look back at him.

"Jake I-"

"MC I-"

At the same time you start to speak and then both of you are immediately silent to let the other go first.

"Do you first" you offer and he returns it to you.

"No, I’m fine, say what you wanted to say," you confirm.

"I can wait, you start"

You’re twisting her eyes again.

However, Jake understands this wrong and at the same time the magic words leave your lips "I love you"

Masterlist

-

And thank you @a-d-alison your submission gave me a lot of motivation🤭❤️

-

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood hacker #everbyte #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood #everbyte game #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #iamjake

[bisexualcrowley]

Undercover

Pairing: Harry Hart x Fem! reader

Summary: While doing surveillance at a gala, Y/n and Harry's identities are threatened to be uncovered and they take to a rather intimate method of hiding their faces

Content/warnings: smutty themes? nsfw, fluffy stuff, cursing, suggestive themes, semi-public foreplay/teasing, making out, Merlin’s still alive bc i want him to be

Word count: 3,729

“A Gala. In the middle of winter, this means I might have to fight in heels, is this really necessary Merlin?” Y/n sighed, glancing out at the light drifting of snow that had begun to flutter down from the sky. Its not that she had anything against winter, the woman mused to herself, just that it makes this sort of work so much more difficult. 

The year had been tough enough already, having lost Harry to Valentine, getting Harry back, the whole issue with the Golden Circle, and the constant stress was getting to Y/n, the smallest thing now able to piss her off, and unfortunately for her, this latest mission seemed to be more than a small thing. “C’mon Y/n, i know we all could use some rest but this is important, the target is threatening to release catastrophic amounts of classified government information. I’m not asking you to be on the front line here, I just need you and Galahad on the sidelines, more as surveillance and backup than anything else.”

Y/n had been less than impressed with Merlin’s words, wanting to stay as far away as possible from field work until she had gotten a decent amount of sleep, but her ears perked up at the mention of her best friend and previous partner at Kingsman.

“You’re letting Harry in the field again?”

She asked, surprised at the man’s words. “I thought you said he wasn’t ready yet, after the problems he had while working alongside the American agents.

“Not fully, as i said, the two of you will just be keeping tabs on him from the crowd, not making contact unless absolutely necessary.” Merlin must have picked up on Y/n’s eagerness to work alongside Harry again and allowed himself a slight smile as he spoke, sliding the paperwork across the table to the younger agent. “This place is fancy, i mean really fancy, you’re gonna want to look your very best. Go over his papers today and be here dressed and ready at 20:30 tomorrow. And I mean it, y/n, be dressed to kill, in more than just the metaphoric sense”

Most of her annoyance having melted away at the mention of Harry, Y/n agreed, taking the papers and shaking Merlin’s hand before turning on her heel and jogging down the hall of the Kingsman offices, hoping to find her friend. Luckily Y/n didn’t need to search far, finding him in the actual tailor section of the building being fit for a tuxedo.

Y/n caught Harry’s eye in the mirror in front of him and she shot him a grin, leaning casually against the door frame. “Lookin’ good, Galahad. Excited to be headin’ back into it?” She asked, affection shining in her smile at the sight of Harry Hart suiting up for battle once again. 

It was no secret among many of the Kingsman agents that Y/n had fallen hard for the man, her feelings becoming clear to them when Harry was shot as she had broken down in tears at the news despite being one of Kingsman’s toughest agents, however she did manage to keep the secret from Harry himself, terrified of losing the relationship they already had by revealing her feelings only to find that they weren’t reciprocated. 

Eggsy and Merlin, of course, had required a fair amount of bribery to be convinced to keep their mouths shut, finding the whole situation more than amusing and wanting nothing more than to spill the beans to Harry, whom they were fully convinced shared y/n’s feelings. Y/n didn’t crack though, and eventually the men had settled on the childish teasing of Y/n and placing bets on who would make the first move. Eggsy had put 50 pounds on Y/n cracking first, but Merlin put his money on Harry, having said something about Eggsy underestimating the woman.

At the moment, despite her refusal to share her feelings with Harry, Y/n feared that Eggsy was going to be the one to win the wager as she felt her heart beat faster at the happy smile Harry had offered her in return.  “Looking forward to be working alongside you again, Y/n, it’s been lonely without my partner”

Y/n felt her face heat up at the compliment, but determined not to let her resolve fail she once again held back the words she wanted so badly to tell her friend, instead choosing to push herself off the doorframe and saunter over to Harry’s position in the center of the room.  “So... A gala. Haven’t done one of these together in ages, have we.”  Y/n’s hand came to rest on Harry’s shoulder, still not having broken their eye contact through the mirror. “It has been a while, although luckily, I never forgot how to dance”

Y/n’s confident exterior faltered at his words, tilting her head to the side and eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “We have to dance?” She asked, voice coming out far quieter than she had hoped. Harry let out a very ungentlemanly laugh at her shock, turning his gaze from the mirror to meet his friend’s eyes properly. “I’d assume Merlin didn’t tell you for this very reason, y/n” He chuckled. “We’d stick out too much, standing in the middle of a ballroom. To draw the least amount of attention to our position, we’re gonna have to dance”

Y/n froze for a moment, weighing her options. On one hand, she thought, I’m dancing with Harry. On the other hand, i’m dancing. In public. What a terrifying thought, i should just tell Merlin i won’t do it. But if i don’t do it, i don’t dance with Harry. 

She squinted slightly, fighting herself for which option was better, but in the end decided that the upside of pretending to be Harry’s date outweighed the negatives in the situation, and after another moment of hesitation, Y/n nodded, nervously drumming her fingers on the man’s shoulder.

“Alright then. If we’re gonna dance, we’re gonna do it right. I’m gonna go find a dress, i guess. See you tomorrow, Galahad” Y/n breathed, a hint of humor making it’s way into her words as she went on, which to her luck Harry picked up on, and replied with an exaggerated salute, earning him a giggle and smile from Y/n before she slung on a coat and took off again.

Lucky for her the London streets were nearly empty, most seeking cover from the bitter cold within the comfort of their homes, and the trip to her own home was quick for Y/n. Almost immediately upon arriving, she threw open the doors of her closet, flicking through hanger after hanger of clothes that Merlin would be less than happy about her wearing to such a prestigious event. It appeared that luck was still on her side, however, as Y/n paused, pulling out a dress previously hidden behind a thick winter coat.  It was beautiful, a slim gown of deep green velvet with a loose, plunging neckline and thin black straps with a shimmering gold woven throughout, and y/n smiled, knowing it would be perfect for the following night.

The next day passed quickly, Y/n having to study the target’s file, shower, do her hair and makeup, fit a variety of concealed weaponry on her person, and what felt to her like a million other things, and it felt like no time at all before she found herself outside the Kingsman Tailor shop, glittering heels clicking along the icy sidewalk leading up to the building. Y/n reached for the door handle, shivering slightly in the cold but was met with the door swinging open in her face, Merlin staring down at her with Eggsy, Tequila and Harry behind him. 

“Y/n, you’re late, c’mon, there’s a car waiting in the back, c’mon lets go” Merlin ushered her along, the group rounding the building to find a black towncar waiting in the alley. It took a bit of maneuvering to fit everyone into the vehicle, coats bunching up in the small space, but eventually the group situated themselves in a somewhat comfortable fashion, and they were off.

The drive was longer than Y/n had expected, but no time was spent relaxing, having found herself rather distracted by her body being pressed against a very well dressed Harry, the cramped space forcing her leg to shift up onto Harry’s so that she was sitting partially on his lap, a position that had the both of them blushing furiously and Tequila chuckling from Harry’s left. 

Hoping to distract from the uncomfortable and unfortunately mildly arousing way she was seated, Y/n leaned forward to peer past Harry and raised an eyebrow at the American agent, who in return mimicked her expression, which brought a mix of annoyance and amusement to the still blushing woman.  “Mind if i ask why Harry was forced into the middle seat? Last time i checked, i’d fit a fair bit better” Y/n asked, Harry humming in agreement with her statement.

“Why, you wanna sit on my lap instead?” Tequila smirked, earning a snort of laughter from Eggsy and Merlin in the front seat and a glare from Y/n, where Harry shifted uncomfortably and blushed harder.

Y/n’s snapped back, but her retort was cut short at the feeling of the car slowing to a stop and Merlin leaning over the drivers seat to run over the night’s details one last time. 

The plan went smoothly from then, Eggsy and Tequila positioning themselves near the main doorways and Merlin settling himself behind a computer, leaving Harry and Y/n to shed their coats and make their way further into the ballroom. A string quartet was set in the middle of the north wall, playing what y/n recognized immediately to be a slower rendition of the seal lullaby, and she fought the urge to twirl around a couple times, instead smoothing out her dress and holding out a hand to Harry.

“Well Mr. Hart, may i have this dance?” Y/n spoke calmly, careful to avoid appearing overly enthusiastic so as not to draw unnecessary attention to the pair, but the warmth shining in her eyes was undisguisable to Harry, who took her arm with a smile and led her to their position in the ballroom.

The image of the two Kingsman agents settling into a graceful mix of a waltz and a simple slow dance was reflected off the marble floors, creating what would have been a beautiful photo had there been a photographer near them and y/n relished in the moment, hand clasped with Harry’s, his hand pulling her waist to his as they swayed to the music.

Harry caught Y/n’s eye as he caught her after a spin, a grin breaking through his character that made her heart flutter. The song slowed to it’s end and the couple for the night paused, the taller figure dipping y/n and freezing, their faces inches apart. Y/n felt her breath hitch in her chest, heart pounding at the intimate position they had paused in.

Her eyes met Harry’s again, the latter panting slightly, his pupil dilated and face flushed red, and dear god it turned Y/n on. Biting her tongue to hold back what would have been a rather humiliating moan, she rested her weight into Harry’s arms, allowing herself a second to catch her breath. As the next song began, Harry shook himself out of whatever state he was in and pulled y/n back up against him, resuming the dance like nothing had happened. Y/n, still flustered, tried to distract herself by shooting a glance towards their target, who had moved from lingering by the side entrance to scanning the crowd from a nearby refreshment table.  As the song reached a peak Harry spun y/n around again, but this time around her heel caught on the seam of her dress and she stumbled, accidentally turning away from her partner. Quickly righting herself, Y/n returned to her previous stance, but not before making brief yet intense eye contact with the man they were watching.  “Shit... Merlin do you have eyes on the target? I might have just fucked us over” Y/n’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper, eyes blown wide with horror at the prospect of ruining Harry’s first real taste of action since the Golden Circle incident.

“Hang on, hang on, don’t abort mission yet” Merlin muttered through her earpiece, y/n hearing the clacking of keys as the older agent fussed with the security cameras

“Fuckin hell, Galahad, Y/n, he’s coming your way. Hold your position, we don’t blow your cover unless we’re 100% sure he knows who you are. Keep dancing, but don’t let him see your face” 

Merlin’s voice cut across the earpiece again, and by the way y/n felt Harry's shoulders tense she knew he heard the message too.

“Shit, what do we do?” she hissed back, watching her partner risk a glance to the left and finding the target moving smoothly through the crowd, eyes set on the couple.

“Keep dancing, stay inconspicuous for as long as possible, if we’re lucky he’ll just pass on by. Now i’ll say it again, don’t let him see your bloody faces.” Merlin’s voice was low, and Y/n couldn’t stop the nervous feeling they caused from setting in as she watched the man grow nearer out of the corner of her eye.

“Merlin i don’t know what you expect us to do here if it’s so imperative we don’t move from this spot, we can’t just-”

Y/n tuned out Harry’s urgent whispers as a solution came to mind, eyes widening at the ridiculousness her own mind had come up with, but not seeing a better solution she shushed him, placing a finger over his lips.

Harry looked confused but went along with it, cocking an eyebrow in silent questioning and giving her shoulder a soft squeeze as the man drew closer, nearly close enough to get a good look at the pair, and y/n knew she had to make her move.  With a quick whisper of “forgive me for this Harry”, Y/n brought her hands up to cup her friend’s face and pulled him into a kiss. Harry froze momentarily, his jaw tensing in shock before he followed her lead and returned the kiss, their lips moving against each others perfectly in sync and y/n couldn’t keep herself from sighing into the kiss, unconsciously pressing her body closer to his. 

Harry deepened the kiss, his hands moving to thread through her hair and a vague thought reminded Y/n he was just helping to conceal her face, but it was shoved quickly to the back of her mind with a particularly passionate movement from Harry which she met enthusiastically. Her hands inched upwards to tug at his perfectly styled hair, which earned Y/n a low moan against her lips, and she pressed closer again, unconsciously slipping her leg between Harry’s. She felt his cock twitch against her thigh and all thoughts of what they were there to do flew out the window, one hand clasping at the collar of his tuxedo’s jacket and the other cupping his cheek, pulling his face down to her own.

Feeling bold, Y/n made a move to nip at Harry’s lower lip but before she had the chance, they were interrupted by a more than amused Eggsy clearing his throat beside her.  The pair flinched in surprise and pulled quickly out of the heated embrace, leaving Y/n wiping speared lipstick from her face and fixing disheveled hair, Harry somewhat discretely adjusting his clothing to hide the now quite sizable bulge in his trousers with a deep blush across his cheeks and Eggsy watching from the side, eyes tearing up from the effort of holding in his laughter.

“Merlin says good thinkin’, Y/n. The two’ve you were a bit busy to notice but Tequila got the guy, he went down nice n’ quiet, we’re supposed to get to the car as soon as possible” Eggsy had a shit eating grin plastered across his face as he spoke, which only got wider when Y/n gave Harry an awkward smile, which he returned briefly before shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at his shoes.

Snickering, Eggsy escorted the pair through the crowded room and through a series of side doors, which after a seemingly unnecessary number of hallways led to a back exit where the towncar that had brought them to the gala was waiting. Dreading what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation with Harry, y/n winced at the thought of how inappropriate her actions towards her friend were, and she moved to open the passenger side door but was stopped by Eggsy once again, who flung open the door and threw himself in next to Merlin, who quite to her displeasure shared Eggsy’s smirk. 

Y/n’s eyes locked with his, silently pleading to switch seats but her weak attempt proved to be in vain as Eggsy winked and pointed over his shoulder to the back of the car, where Harry was already seated.  Y/n glared at Merlin but didn’t argue, and took a deep breath before sliding into the car, which to her luck was no longer so cramped due to the third agent having stayed behind with the target. The space was still smaller than she would have wished, but the cover of darkness provided a touch of comfort that y/n was endlessly grateful for. 

Shadows crossed across her legs as the car rolled into gear, Merlin driving out of the alley and beginning the long journey back to the Kingsman headquarters. Y/n sighed, leaning her head against the window and closing her eyes, hoping the cold glass against her skin would help to drown out her racing thoughts.

Much to her dismay, however, they had been traveling for less than ten minutes when Eggsy turned around, leaning over his chair with the same wicked smile stretched across his face as he had worn before.

“So, you two had some fun t’night, didntcha?” Merlin let out a snort of laughter from beside him, Eggsy nodding his head suggestively between the pair in the backseat. Too tired to come up with a snarky reply, y/n simply rolled her eyes at Eggsy, and went back to working up the nerve to say something to the uncharacteristically silent figure seated beside her.

The realization that Harry was rarely this quiet around y/n outweighed her fear of confrontation, concern for her friend pulling her focus from Eggsy to the older man, and she turned to face him.  Harry was sitting stiffly, hands clasped in his lap and head straight forward, but he must have been watching y/n out of the corner of his eye, as he looked to the side to meet her eyes when she turned from her position by the window to look up at him. 

In that moment, the car was silent aside from the low rumble of the engine, the tension between the two growing from tolerable to an absolute peak, hanging thickly in the air between their bodies.  It was thick enough, apparently for Eggsy to pick up on it, and with a chuckle about “giving you two some privacy”, he pressed a button beside his seat that caused a black divider to come up behind him, separating the front from the back of the car and leaving Y/n and Harry in silence.

Both Harry and Y/n stayed frozen in place, faces turned to each other and her eyes locked on his. Hesitantly, y/n placed a hand on Harry’s knee, a motion that years of friendship had taught him meant she had a lot to say, but didn’t yet know how to say it, and Harry nodded, the silent exchange sharing more than words would be able to.

“...I... I’m sorry, Harry, i shouldn’t have...” Y/n’s voice was low, barely above a whisper as she spoke, trailing off as the words caught in her throat. 

"No, y/n, it was my mistake, i just...” Harry's voice faltered as well, fingers coming up to fuss nervously with the strap of his eyepatch, a habit y/n had noticed Harry picked up when he felt flustered.

Neither of them knew what had happened; one moment they were sitting in silence, y/n’s hand on his knee and tension high, and the next moment y/n found herself being pulled into Harry’s lap, her hands once again tugging at his hair as they met again in a heated kiss.  Her dress had hiked up to her hips at this point, allowing Y/n to straddle her lover properly, and this time she didn’t hesitate to grind down against him, Harry’s hands coming to grip her smooth hips as she rubbed her barely covered sex along the bulge in his trousers, both letting out groans of pleasure at the friction.

Harry’s fingers trailed down y/n’s body as they made out like horny teenagers in the backseat, moving from her hair down to cup her covered breast, and down further to trace along the slick fabric of her panties. Y/n whimpered at the touch and moved to return the favor, her own hand coming to palm at his cock through his pants, at which Harry gasped and yanked her down onto his lap once again, hips thrusting up to grind against y/n’s cunt.

She moaned against his mouth once again, pulling away for just long enough to strip off Harry’s coat and unbutton his shirt before returning to her position on his lap. The two were so caught up in the moment that they didn’t notice the car pulling up to the curb and stopping, however they did take notice to the door flying open and the flash of a camera, followed by Eggsy’s delighted voice and a deep laugh from Merlin.  Embarrassed, y/n quickly tugged her dress back into place and slid out of the car, holding out a hand for Harry to take as he climbed out, looking as red faced as y/n felt.

“Go on, buggers, we took you to Galahad’s place. I’ll find out who won the bet tomorrow, go have some fuckin’ fun.” Eggsy laughed at their dumbfounded expressions at his words, but chose not to respond, instead returning to his seat beside Merlin who drove off a few seconds later, leaving two very sexually frustrated agents on the sidewalk. 

“Well then... Wanna take this inside?”

#harry hart smut #kingsman smut #kingsman imagine #kingsman fluff #harry hart x reader #harry hart imagine #harry hart fluff #wlm imagine #fanfic #oneshot #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman harry

[hermannsthumb]

established relationship prompt: "Newton, darling, would you be a dear and eat my arse?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMANN!!! obvious maybe but not sfw below the cut lmaoooo. WHEW I managed to finish by midnight!

------------------

Birthdays have never really been the sort of thing Hermann has cared much about. Growing up, they were largely uneventful and unexciting, mostly ignored (if not outright forgotten) by his family, and in adulthood mostly ignored and forgotten by Hermann himself. After all, it’s become rather difficult to look forward to the passing of another year when the odds are growing exponentially higher humanity won’t live to see another, and equally difficult to celebrate the extension of one’s life when so many others have been lost. The very notion makes Hermann feel guilty. For those reasons Hermann has never marked his birthday down on a calendar in his time at the Shatterdome in any capacity, nor has he verbally acknowledged it to anyone. Certainly not to Newton.

It makes the hand-drawn card and small cake he finds on his desk the morning of June 9th all the more surprising. He does not need to read the card to know who the gifts are from. Newton’s distinctive handwriting and little crayon-doodled kaijus aside, Newton is quite obviously watching Hermann over his workbench for his reactions as Hermann inspects the cake. “How did you know?” Hermann finally says.

Newton feigns looking up at him in surprise. “Know what?” he says.

Hermann waves the card. “That it’s my,” he pauses, then continues, his mouth curling down with distaste at the word, “birthday?”

“Lucky guess,” Newton says. Hermann taps his finger impatiently on his cane, and Newton begins to tug off his work gloves with an eye roll. “Okay, I maaaaybe snooped through some of your employee records a little while back. But it was for totally valid reasons, dude. Relationship status, number one, birthday number two. How else was I gonna know all the important shit about you?”

“You could’ve asked,” Hermann says. He supposes this must’ve occurred right before Newton approached him in the laboratory a few months ago and asked him if he’d like to have sex. Hermann didn’t regret saying no at the time, and he still doesn’t, really, but he should’ve known Newton would be the…sentimental sort. Too affection-starved to let their convenient arrangement remain just that. At least he hasn’t thrown Hermann a party. “Besides. Did it ever occur to you I was keeping such things private for a reason?”

“You keep everything private,” Newton says. “I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“Most people don’t,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, but, you’re not—” Newton shakes his head, and lowers his voice, “—sleeping with most people. I mean, maybe you are, I don’t know, do whatever you want, man. I just mean—I want to know shit about you. Like your birthday. Since we’re—yeah.”

“I see.” Hermann sniffs. “Well. How terribly considerate of you.”

The sarcasm is unfortunately lost on Newton; he merely preens, and grins at Hermann, happy even to accept the smallest inkling of a compliment. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, what do you want to do tonight?”

Hermann expects he will do what he always does tonight, which is work late, eat dinner (usually cold by the time he clocks out) late, shower (also cold by the time he clocks out), and then go to bed. Though he supposes he’ll have to figure out what to do with the absurd little cake by then, as he doesn’t have a refrigerator in his bunk in which to store it. “Nothing much, I imagine,” he says.

“Really?” Newton says. “I was thinking we could wrap up early and head out somewhere fun for dinner. I was Googling cool places nearby that haven’t been, like, destroyed by kaiju yet. Or we could just get drinks. Or I also have drinks back in my room, and we could order pizza or something, so we don’t have to go out at all.”

“We?” Hermann says. Of course, Hermann ought to have known that sentimentality would also dictate he and Newton spend Hermann’s birthday together. All on account of a few, er, stress-relieving and completely emotionless liaisons every now and then. None of Hermann’s previous sexual partners (a rare handful, but existent nonetheless) have ever insisted on spending his birthday with him, and they’ve certainly never bought Hermann a card or cake, either. It would feel far too—well—intimate. What Hermann would only expect from a long-term partner. It’s really rather presumptuous of Newton to assume Hermann has any interest in celebrating with him. “Newton, really, it’s not—”

“Or we don’t have to have dinner at all,” Newton says quickly. “You could come over, and we can just…”

Do what they typically do when Hermann goes to Newton’s bunk, he expects. Hermann clears his throat. “You really have done quite enough for me already today,” he says. "I don't think—well—" He fidgets, scraping his cane across the floor, glancing back down at the cake and card. Newton has clearly handmade the cake as well: the frosting is colored a rather eye-searing shade of blue, layered on messily, and the Happy Birthday Hermann! written in yellow across it is cramped at the end, as if Newton did a poor job of space management. It is rather sweet of him. Hermann finds his heart softening just a bit towards his odd lab partner. "Oh, alright," he says, and Newton perks up happily. "But I'd rather not do anything too, er, fancy for dinner."

"Ha!" Newton says. "Awesome! Come over at six?"

Six means that Hermann will have to leave the laboratory no later than fifty-thirty if he wishes to shower and prepare himself for any sort of activity that may arise between them while they sit alone in Newton's bunk. Five-fifteen, if Hermann is being realistic, as he knows he will spend at least twenty minutes fussing over his appearance (wondering if he ought to shave away the few almost-clear pieces of stubble on his chin, smoothing back his hair, critically eyeing up his bony chest) as he always does upon the evenings when Newton invites him over. Hermann would like to protest and remind Newton that he does need to get some work done, but he really can't find it in himself, especially not when he knows Newton will put up a fuss and try to argue Hermann out of it anyway. "Six," Hermann agrees. He supposes he could use an early night in. Besides, it might be nice to treat his birthday as something special this year.

-------

Hermann arrives at Newton's bunk promptly at six. In lieu of dinner, which Hermann did not really expect they would be having, Newton (stripped down to a faded pair of boxer shorts and a white undershirt) leads Hermann over to his bed, sets his cane aside, lays him on his back, and begins to kiss him before either of them exchange a single word. It's rather more gently than Hermann is used to from Newton. Their liaisons are typically of the fast and rough sort, spurned on by fierce arguments and a need to outdo each other in everything, even sex. He can't say gentle doesn't feel nice. "What do you want to do?" Newton mumbles against his mouth.

"Do?" Hermann says. Are they not already doing something?

As Newton begins to kiss and stroke his fingers across Hermann's neck, Hermann finds his gaze wandering to the cinderblock ceiling of Newton's bunk. Everything feels rather nice and hazy. Newton's skin is warm and still slightly damp from a shower of his own, and each time Hermann inhales, he is nearly overwhelmed by the strong scent of Newton's body wash, unique, as far as Hermann knows, to only him on the Shatterdome base. Newton scorns the standard PPDC-issued kind, claiming that it irritates his skin, and so orders his own online once every few months. A funny little habit of his. Hermann is far less picky. "You're the birthday boy," Newton says. He flicks open Hermann's top button and nips at his collarbone. "Do you want to fuck me tonight? Or I could fuck you?" He speaks in short bursts, sentences stolen between pecks to Hermann's lips and punctuated by further nips to Hermann's throat. "I know we've only done it those ways a few times. But it's, like, a special occasion. And we have lots of time. I got new lube. Just in case. It got good reviews online?"

Hermann shivers pleasantly each time Newton says fuck. Newton's voice is far from sensual, Hermann must admit, but he is bold in voicing those sorts of desires in a way Hermann could never hope to be, and so it affects him as if Newton had purred the words. He secretly loves how crass Newton can be in bed—begging Hermann to fuck him harder, telling Hermann how much he loves fucking him, gripping at Hermann's hair and whining fuck, fuck, fuck while Hermann works his mouth over Newton as best he can. Hermann is not sure what he wants, and he's not sure what he wants from Newton tonight, either. "I don't know," he confesses. Newton kisses his mouth again, pressing his tongue in clumsily, and Hermann's eyelids flutter, the ceiling growing hazy. "Newton," he groans.

Newton's breaths are coming out in short, excited pants, and his fingers fumble over the next button on Hermann's shirt. Hermann suddenly feels foolish for changing into a fresh shirt and pair of slacks after his shower and not just his pajamas as Newton has. Foolish, and impatient with himself. It'll take Newton longer to strip him down to his bare skin.

"If you don't want to do all that I could just jerk us off a little," Newton says. He inches his hand down to the front of Hermann's slacks, rubbing against Hermann's zipper as clumsily as he'd kissed him. It's far too rough and graceless to be truly arousing, but it's Newton doing it to him, so Hermann pushes into his palm anyway. He feels Newton smile against his skin. "Or anything. Seriously. I wanna, like, make you feel good."

At once Hermann knows what he wants, and the need for it seizes him so tightly that he flushes brilliantly and bites down on his lip to keep from blurting it out and making a fool of himself. (It would hardly be healthy for Newton's already inflated ego if he knew just how badly Hermann wants him.) Newton has done it for him only two or three—well, three or four—times before, and each time has left Hermann an incoherent, trembling wreck upon the sheets. And no one does it to him the way Newton does; their arrangement is not technically monogamous, as that would require an admission of deeper feelings which neither of them are willing to make (and which are entirely nonexistent on Hermann's part), but Hermann has long since stopped seeking sex from anyone but Newton after a disappointing experience with a handsome j-tech who simply had no idea how to use his mouth effectively. Hermann likes to think Newton's is more skilled for the sheer fact that he never stops running it. "Newton," he says, falsely calm, stammering only slightly when Newton gropes at the length of his prick through his layers. "Newton, would you—would you be a dear, and eat my arse? Of course," he adds in a rush, "if it's too much trouble, don't—"

"Dude, of course," Newton says, smiling down so sweetly at Hermann that Hermann's heart twists in his chest. "No problem. I have the extra pillows in my closet, lemme get them." He slips to his feet, but hesitates. "Do you want to me finish—I mean, like, your shirt, and your pants, and—"

"I can do it," Hermann says.

Newton nods, and stumbles over to his closet to dig around for the spare pillows while Hermann makes fast work of his clothing. He finds himself strangely unwilling to part with his undershirt tonight. Not out of any lack of desire for Newton to see him naked, but rather out of a strange bashfulness at the idea of being fully on display for him. Which is really quite silly of Hermann. Newton has seen him naked countless times, both in his own bed and in the laboratory decontamination shower after some (Newton-induced) accident or another. It is only when Newton returns with the pillows that Hermann finally tosses the undershirt to the floor with the rest of his clothing. He's embarrassed to see his pink flush spreading down his bare chest, and hopes Newton does not notice it. What on Earth is wrong with him tonight? "You look hot," Newton says, sweeping his eyes up and down Hermann's body. He's still wearing his glasses. "Um. Pillows?"

"Yes," Hermann says.

Newton arranges the pillows in the way he and Hermann typically do when they engage in this particular activity, with enough support beneath Hermann's lower back, left hip, and left knee that he won't strain himself. As he parts Hermann's thighs and kneels between them, Hermann suddenly wishes that he was laying on his stomach instead. He does not want to watch Newton, nor does he want Newton to be able to watch him, for he feels twice as aroused and twice as overwhelmed tonight and he's sure neither will help that; the idea of falling apart under Newton's gaze is so tremendously mortifying that he almost asks Newton to turn him over. But then Newton is pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, and dragging his marvelous tongue across the sensitive skin there, behind Hermann's prick... "Oh, Newton," Hermann gasps, and Newton gently tucks Hermann's right leg over his shoulder, "oh, yes, Newton—"

He hides his whimpers behind his left hand as Newton licks and mouths at him hungrily, and fists his right hand in Newton's hair when Newton curls the tip of his tongue and begins to tease at him. "More," Hermann begs, breathless, pressing himself down on Newton's tongue to feel as much of it as he possibly can. His prick is stiff against his stomach. Newton laughs, and Hermann feels it vibrate within him. "Ah—more, please—"

"Uh-huh," Newton says. His glasses are fogging and crooked on his nose, and when he nods they slip down a centimeter. His tongue prods more insistently at Hermann, almost (but not quite) hard enough to breach into him, and Hermann bites down on his knuckles to contain another whimper. Newton hasn't even put a single bloody finger in him yet, and Hermann needs to calm himself down if he wishes to last until he does.

Then Newton sucks at him, moaning, and (his back arching, his eyelids fluttering) Hermann finds himself unable to hold off any longer. He squeezes his thighs on either side of Newton's head and cries out, "Newton—"

Newton swoops up to catch his release in his waiting mouth and swallows it all down. He presses a kiss to Hermann's inner thigh as Hermann trembles and shakes, and Hermann feels rather than hears him mumble something into his skin he can't quite make out. He follows it with another kiss, sweeter than the last, before crawling back up and dropping next to Hermann on the mattress. He watches Hermann catch his breath with soft eyes. "Please," Hermann says when he finds himself able. His voice is terrifically hoarse. "Let me—for you—" He gestures vaguely at the front of Newton's boxers and hopes Newton understands what he means.

But Newton shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. I know how lazy you get after you finish."

Hermann feels as if he ought to be affronted, but Newton says it with such obvious affection, and strokes his fingers through Hermann's sweat-damp hair so soothingly Hermann can do nothing but lean in to his touch happily. And Newton is not wrong, really. Hermann's eyelids are already beginning to droop. He imagines he'll be dozing any minute now. Newton winds an arm around his shoulders and draws him closer, and Hermann nearly shivers from the warmth his body exudes. "Thank you," Hermann murmurs. He's about to lay his head on Newton's shoulder and allow himself to doze when he realizes he ought to ask for permission first. Newton may still wish to go out to the mess hall and eat dinner, after all, and he may not want Hermann hanging around here. "Er—I don't suppose you would consider letting me sleep here? Only for tonight."

"Of course, dude," Newton says. "Not just tonight, any time you want. Seriously. I'm kinda—well, nevermind." He presses a kiss to Hermann's temple, and Hermann does not find out what he kind of is. "Happy birthday."

"Mm," Hermann says, shutting his eyes.

Newton strokes his hair until he falls asleep.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #not sfw ///// #HAPPY BDAY HERMANNNNNN

[thestarkerisobvious]

Let Me Take Care Of You

thank you @mrstarksbaby​ for this amazing art

“Do we need a safety word?”

Peter didn’t want to kill the mood, he really didn’t. But after the yogurt and the apple sauce and the milk, well, he couldn’t help it.  He was getting nervous.

In Tony’s defense, the man had said “will you let me take care of you tonight?” and Peter had enthusiastically said “yes.”  He couldn’t deny that.  Only he thought “take care of you” meant… well… a little more meat and a lot less… yogurt.  

                                                      * * *

Altogether, Peter estimated, he still had at least 12 broken bones.  Most were in that his right foot and ankle which is why he was limping so badly, the rest in his wrist and arm, which didn’t hurt much as long as he didn’t move them.  As long as he didn’t move anything on the right side, he was fine. He sat quietly on Tony’s couch, propped up on pillows and enjoying the attention, taking stock every few minutes.  All the damage on his left side, as well as his neck and shoulders and back, was gone, and his jaw had healed completely.  Peter lay back in his warm comfy spot, snuggled under his warm blanket and smiled a secret smile.  Lack of pain was good.  Lack of pain meant it wouldn’t be hard to talk his lover into doing what his lover was clearly wanting to do.

And he could tell what Tony had in mind, even though Tony would certainly deny it.  Absolutely deny it, and insist that Peter needed to rest.  But Tony was also calling him “baby boy” as he set him up on the couch with everything he needed within arms reach, and “baby boy” were words Peter only heard in bed.  

Right now Tony was in another room, arguing with someone on his phone, and that made Peter smile even more.  Tony was arguing that he WAS going to be unavailable for the next 12 hours, and there was only one reason why Tony would do that.  Not for sleep, that’s for sure.  Tony never argued that he needed time for sleep. Tony was making it clear to the unfortunate people on the phone that he’d be on radio silence for 12 hours because he absolutely had something else in mind.  And Peter didn’t mind that.  Peter didn’t mind that at all.

Right now Peter was supposed to be watching the television (maybe Netflix?  So they could Netflix and chill?  Peter grinned stupidly at the joke he had just told in his head.  Of course he didn’t want to chill... the ice and sleet of the wreck in the runway was all the ‘chill’ he needed for the rest of the year.  Now he just wanted Netflix and warm.  That joke made him grin even more.)

But he had turned the TV off completely.  He didn’t want noise now he wanted silence.  He wanted to lay back and smile and savor his sweet memories in warmth and peace.

The memory of that blinding sleet and driving snow and biting cold and Tony grabbing him and kissing him in front of the whole gang… well maybe they all couldn’t see it through the snow but... well some of them saw no doubt.  And that kiss... that was a memory he wanted to remember forever. Because, in that very instant, Tony had ended the whole should-we-or-shouldn’t we when it came to going public with their relationship.  Because after Peter had climbed his way out from under the two airplanes and onto the tarmac to walk into Tony’s arms… well… Tony’s complete lack of impulse control had ended that argument for both of them.  The cat was out of the bag… or maybe the spider was out of the… anyway they were both out of the closet holding hands and there was no going back from that.  Peter lay back on his warm pillows and under his warm blanket and smiled and savored.  

And now the phone call was over, and Tony was bringing things into the living room that he had promised... the hot chocolate.  Full of marshmallows just the way Peter had described.  

Peter didn’t object when Tony insisted on holding the cup for him, although both hands were working now.  He willingly snuggled into Tony’s arm leaned into his shoulder.  He even allowed the man to spoon feed him the marshmallows, although that seemed a little over the top.  And because Tony was talking to him so sweetly... seemed so worried that he hadn’t eaten at all... he agreed to a few soft foods.  And after that… well, they would have the next 12 hours to figure out what came after that.  Tony had mentioned something earlier about Peter being ‘too banged up’ for any extracurricular activities, but Peter was pretty damn sure he could change the older man’s mind.  Especially after that same man had kissed him in front of ALL of the Avengers and Nick Fury to boot.  Especially because after ‘dinner’ Tony was definitely going to hold him and tell him something about ‘if I ever lost you.’  And especially since Tony was ALREADY calling him ‘baby boy.’

                                                                * * *

For it was absolutely amazing, leaning in Tony’s strong arm and being held close.  Even the absurdity of being spoon fed everything, even though he had already made it clear he was better after the coco, seemed to be okay since it was Tony doing it.  

And Tony seemed to really be enjoying it. And all those “that’s it” and “good boys” were really making it hard to say no.  (The truth was, when Tony said “good boy” in bed, it really made Peter weak in the knees.  And “that’s my good boy?”  That could make him come on the spot.)

But now there was yogurt and applesauce and a cup of milk and, well, that was just strange.  And hearing those words, and feeling that thrill going through his entire body, only to suddenly be faced with a spoonful of yogurt?  Well… his body was getting seriously mixed signals and it was making him very uneasy.  He flinched and turned his head away when Tony pressed the cup of milk to his mouth… not that Tony minded the tiny spill it caused.  In fact it was when Tony started cleaning him up with the soft white dish towel (with a whisper of “Oh, messy baby”)  that Peter started to catch on.

“No milk, just water please,” was all he said at first. He let Tony hold the water bottle for him and drank obediently, then finished off the yogurt and applesauce without comment.  But when they were both done, Peter realized his stomach was in knots and that's when he spoke.

He seemed to startle Tony a bit, but the man recovered instantly and shook his head no.  “Just... just the usual safety word…” he said softly.  “Foot cramp, just like always.  And we can stop now... if you want?”

“Oh no no no…”  Peter said quickly.  Tony had looked so peaceful moments before, so content.  Now he looked worried.  Peter would do anything to make that look go away.

But there was no denying the knot in his stomach.  And if he wanted that to go away…

He took a deep breath and plunged forward.

“I just need to know what comes next,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too inexperienced.  Too naïve. Too young.  “When you said… ‘take care of you.’  I didn’t know it meant… I mean that was really nice,” he said, nodding toward the food and the spoon Tony had used to feed him with. Even though the food had made him a little queasy.  “I just… need to know.. what comes next.  I mean… what you want to do.  Next. To me.  In bed.  That’s all.”

“Nothing weird…” Tony said, but his face looked strained.  As if he HAD thought of something ‘weird’ and just now got caught.  “I just wanted…”  He looked back toward the bedroom, then turned and brought their foreheads together.

“I just wanted to carry you into the bedroom and… take care of you, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Peter sighed, smiling.  A thrill went through his entire body, and he slipped his hand behind Tony’s neck and pulled him in close.  “Oh yes, oh that sounds very nice.”

Tony kissed him then, gently and tenderly, and Peter melted into his arms with a moan.

But it still wasn’t right.  No matter how many times he told himself to relax and trust his lover, he just couldn’t do it.  For one thing Tony’s kisses were still gentle and tender, and as much as Peter enjoyed this nicer, slower pace (so different from their normal furious removal of clothing and desperate attempts to get closer until they were leaving bruises on each other) Tony’s tenderness was making him nervous and the doubts in his head were getting louder.

Because, let’s face it, Tony was into things.

Kinky things.  Complicated things. Complicated, kinky things.  It wasn’t just the infamous sex tapes AND the notorious private-plane-where-the-stewardesses-were-also-strippers AND giant beds that could hold 8 people AND the drawer full of leather instruments Peter had found accidentally.  It was just the part where they had established a safety word before they had even had sex.  There was just the simple fact that Tony was an older, experienced, famous playboy, and Peter was… well…

Peter was just Peter.

And that sucked.  And Peter had tried to ignore it and soldier on as if every single thing in Tony’s crazy past was really okay and kosher with him, but that didn’t always work out. Like when Tony once presented him with an alphabetized lists of kinks and Peter couldn’t bring himself to admit he didn’t know even know what half those words meant.  And while “take care of you” sounded like a little bit of heaven, there was also a little worried part of Peter’s brain telling him that “take care of you” might mean something more complicated.  

And he couldn’t hide his reservations.  Tony pulled back a little and looked into his face, so he charged forward.

“So… just to be clear… just so I understand…”

Tony’s face softened and he leaned in to explain.

“I want to carry you into the shower,” he whispered, stroking Peter’s face.  “get you cleaned up, maybe help you… clean up.  

“And then you’ll let me slick you up… nothing exotic… just slick you up like I always do.  

“And then… if you let me… I’ll carry you into the bedroom and do all the things you like.  Nice and gentle.  No surprises there.  Only, afterward, well…

“Well… we’ll need to shower again.  So maybe, if you’re still in the mood, you’ll let me carry you back there, and clean you up all over again.  For as long as you’ll let me, or until you use the safe word. That’s all I meant.”

Peter listened and nodded, grinning a little, maybe biting his lip a bit, as Tony described it.  By the time Tony pulled back enough to look into his face (and say, “Does that sound okay baby?”) he was grinning like a fool.

“Oh yeah, yeah that sounds good, I’d like that. Only…”

He bit his lip harder and blushed as he tried to say it. In the end, all he could do was lean up to Tony and whisper it in his ear.

“I really… really like it when you… when you say I’m being ‘good for you.’  Or telling me I’m a… a ‘good boy.’  Or ‘your good boy.’  I really like that.”  

Tony moaned appreciatively and pulled him close.

“Oh baby… you should get hit with colliding planes more often.”

#hurt/comfort #starker #TheWitchway writes stuff #Ben's Moodboards #Peter Parker/Tony Stark

[songbirdsingingthings]

Lovely Night - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

This oneshot was inspired by the song Lovely Night from the musical La La Land. It’s such a cute and funny song that I thought it would work perfectly for Bakugou and a reader who are not super fond of each other, but figure out they have feelings for each other. I put a lot of hard work into this oneshot and I’m super happy and proud with how it came out. I hope you all enjoy! And, if you would like, feel free to open up youtube and listen to the actual song while reading, or look up the lyrics to see where I used and or changed some of them to fit within the story! So, without further ado, ENJOY!!! 

WARNINGS: Realistic Fluff, Some Swearing

Word Count: 2608

It was no secret to the rest of Class 1-A. Y/N L/N and Katsuki Bakugou just could not stand each other. Y/N hated how loud and abrasive he was, and might she add that he was like that for absolutely no reason. She hated how much he would boast about his quirk - I mean seriously, it was like he was six years old and he was talking about the expensive action figure he got for his birthday! But, most of all, she hated how attractive he had to be. There was no denying that he was strikingly handsome and had a very well toned body, but something about the way that he actually took the time to make himself presentable struck a chord within Y/N. Of course, Bakugou’s parents were fashion designers, so maybe he was just conditioned from a young age to look presentable. 

Bakugou hated how structured and uptight Y/N was. He genuinely thought the girl had a stick up her ass for the entirety of her life. To him, she was like a drill sergeant, dictating who should go where in a team takedown. Granted, she was right almost all of the time, but that didn’t stop her from being annoying about it. Although, however much he hated her those previous reasons, he hated her the most for how undeniably gorgeous she was. She, unlike some of the other girls in class, wore little to no make up during the day - which he himself thought was a smart decision, who knew when a villain could attack and cause sweat to make your mascara run? Her Y/H/L Y/H/C hair was always in a style that he found incredibly flattering on her and her Y/E/C eyes were just striking. 

Their conflicted, no matter how strictly negative they tell themselves they are, feelings for each other caused quite a few ruptures in group activities. Whether it was going after each other in laser tag - even though they were on the same team -, not cooperating on group projects for school, or making a huge mess in the dorm kitchen trying to prove to the other that they are the superior chef, they were at each other's throats. The latter wasn’t so bad for the class, they actually made some really delicious food, but Aizawa was pretty mad about the flour on the carpet and the dried batter sticking to the walls and stovetops. 

Coincidentally, the entirety of class 1-A was at a group dinner this evening, celebrating their completion of their final written exams. Jokes and anecdotes were exchanged as waiters brought the class delicious food. Y/N’s eyes lit up as a woman brought over a platter of Y/F/F. Eagerly, she piled 2 or 3 servings onto her plate.

“Oi, L/N, stop loading up on the Y/F/F, you’re not the only person here! Besides, you’re gonna look like a stuffed turkey by the end of the night!” Y/N had to admit, the last part of his insult did sting a bit, but she couldn’t give him an inch.

“Oh, bite me Bakugou. Besides, isn’t it past your bedtime?” Y/N said, smirking at him with a sassy look in her eyes while pointing to an analog clock that read 9:30 p.m. . Scowling, Bakugou just turned his back towards her and started chatting with Kirishima instead. 

“Nice one, Y/N.” One of Y/N’s best friends, Jirou, said as she gave her a high five. Feeling very accomplished, she smiled. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Y/N’s best idea to have that much food to eat. Y/N’s stomach cramped pretty badly - so badly that she had to thank whatever godly force was looking down on her that made her wear a pretty fit and flare dress to dinner. If she were wearing regular pants, that material would not feel great against her somewhat bloating stomach. Excusing herself to the bathroom, she relieved herself and thankfully felt much better afterwards. Y/N straightened out her pretty yellow dress and ran a hand through her hair, making sure to comb out any knots. As she made her way back to the table, only a couple people remained. Everyone must’ve gone back to the dorms already, Y/N thought. Of course, she thought as she found the one person who walked back into the restaurant. Everyone had left except for Bakugou.

“Where the hell did everyone else go?” He asked, clearly pissed. Rolling her eyes, Y/N crossed her arms. 

“If I had known everyone was leaving I would’ve gone with them Sherlock. I was in the bathroom so I didn’t see them. Where were you?” Y/N asked.

“I was outside taking a call. Dammit!” He cursed, grabbing the jacket on the back of his chair and pulled his arms through it. Sighing, Y/N took a look at the clock. It was 12:30 a.m. . You have got to be kidding me, she thought. “Well come on. Let’s get going before it gets any later.” He said bluntly, walking slowly out of the big glass doors.

“What do you mean “let’s”? Y/N asked, kind of shocked that he implied that the two of them would be walking back together. Now it was Bakugou’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I’m not going to let a girl walk alone at this time at night, no matter how much I might hate her guts. Who knows what creeps are out there. Now, let’s go.” He says a bit more sternly this time. Y/N quickly grabbed her little white purse from the back of her seat, swung it around her shoulder, and walked out after him.  The only unfortunate thing about going to the restaurant that the class decided to go to was that there wasn’t a cab in sight. The class decided to take the bus which by now had left hours ago. That meant that Y/N had to trek back to UA in heels that pinched her toes. Trying not to make a sound, she clenched her jaw and her fists and forced herself to keep walking on the hard concrete. However, about twenty minutes into their walk, Y/N accidentally let a little squeak of pain slip out of her mouth. Bakugou, who was a little bit in front of her, turned around to get a look at Y/N. 

“What the hell was that?” He said, stifling a laugh that wanted to make itself known. To him, this was kind of hilarious. Never had he heard Y/N willingly show any sign of weakness, and here she was literally squeaking in pain because of her damn shoes.

“Nothing, come on let’s keep walking.” Giving Y/N an unbelieving look, he led her over to a bench that overlooked much of the city. He had to admit, it was a pretty spectacular view. It would have almost been romantic - the stars were shining down on the sparkling city, lights that worked so well together. However, it was absolutely not romantic, because he was here with Y/N, and it wasn’t some other girl and guy. 

Y/N was sat down, slowly taking off her heels to reveal several nasty blisters. She hissed as the cool, almost chilly, night air met her marred skin.

“Why do you girls wear shoes like that if they only make your feet hurt like hell.” Bakugou said. Y/N sighed as she began to take off her other heel, this time on her right foot.

“Because,” she said as she gritted her teeth, “I think they make my legs look pretty freaking hot.” Finally, she pulled the second one off and set it next to its partner. “Also, I didn’t think that I would be walking a lot tonight.” Bakugou did have to admit - the shoes really did accentuate her legs in a very attractive manner. He also noticed, don’t ask him why, that she had taken the time to shave her legs. 

“Well it’s just the class, why did you feel the need to get all done up?” Bakugou’s question struck a nerve within Y/N. She felt her face heat up. Why did she feel the need to get all done up? She would have looked perfectly acceptable in a nice shirt and skirt, maybe even a cute little romper with sandals, but instead she went for a pretty dress and white heels. Then, it dawned on her. Oh my God, I did this all for Bakugou, she thought . Underneath all the layers of competition, disdain for his habits that weren’t as annoying now, and arrogance, Y/N liked him. She found herself noticing more of his other positive habits. He made sure to walk her back home, even if she wasn’t his favorite person, made sure to make her take a break when something was hurting her, and now, asking questions that weren’t aimed to make her look like a fool.

“I-I uh…” Y/N didn’t really know how to answer Bakugou’s question. What do you say to a boy that you’ve basically hated for an entire year that you now have a crush on?

Woah, Bakugou thought, did Y/N actually just stutter? And why was it kind of… cute? Bakugou thought to himself. Nah, I don’t feel like that. It’s just really late at night and I’m sitting next to a pretty girl on a bench that basically overlooks the stars. I do NOT think that way.

“Pretty view huh,” Y/N murmured, a small smile donning her face as she surveyed the city that lay beneath them.

“Yeah, I guess so. Kind of sucks that it’s you and I here instead of other people that could actually enjoy it together.” Bakugou says, looking away from the girl. Scoffing, Y/N gives him an incredulous look. How could I ever think I have feelings for this guy? She thought, I mean, that was just him being a straight up asshole! 

“You and I would never work,” Bakugou says, out of the blue, “I mean you’re not even my type.” Y/N could almost feel flames shooting out of her head.

“Oh yeah?” She scoffs, glaring at the boy.

“Yeah. What a waste of a freaking night.”

Grabbing her heels, Y/N forces them back on, stand sup, and walks right up in front of him.

“Let’s make something clear, Katsuki Bakugou,” Y/N says, giving Bakugou a look that he believes could only be rivaled by himself, “I make the calls around here. But, you are right, I would never fall for you.” Bakugou doesn’t know why, but a tiny part of his heart aches when she says that. “And even though you look pretty good in that... polyester suit of yours,” Y/N begins to say.

“It’s. Wool.” Bakugou snaps back, standing up so that he was now taller than her, “this in no way appeals to me. Maybe it would interest a girl who is not currently having her feet be cut up by her heels, or a girl who actually believes that this could’ve been a spark to romance.” Y/N says, her face now inches away from the blonde’s. “You were right. What a waste of a lovely freaking night.” 

With their noses almost touching, Bakugou just reacts on mere instinct. He almost couldn’t stand to be this close to Y/N without touching her.. The perfume that Y/N wore was intoxicating to him, invading his senses and telling him just do it! Kiss her! It’ll make everything better! And, with no one there stopping him, he gave in. He roughly grabbed her check with his right hand and the back of her neck with his left, and crashed his lips into hers. Y/N’s eyes widened so much, she thought that they were going to pop right out of her head. But, something about kissing Bakugou just felt so damn right. Y/N closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her arms somehow found themselves wrapped around his neck and made their way into his soft hair, pulling at the blonde locks as he worked his tongue into her mouth. It was like fireworks were going off at the same time as she was riding a rollercoaster. It was exciting, it was energizing, and it was warm. Bakugou’s arms now made their way and wrapped themselves around Y/N’s waist, pushing her as close as possible to his chest. Y/N’s knees wobbled at this action which made Bakugou smile into their kiss-turned-make out session. Y/N smiled as well. Finally, it got to the point where the two of them had to separate and take a deep breath. Their foreheads were leaning against each other and their arms were still firmly wrapped around each other.

“I think I like you.” Y/N whispered, making Bakugou smirk.

“You think?” He murmured back, rubbing his thumb against her waist.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure.” Y/N said, giggling. Finally, Bakugou pulled away just enough so that he could make full eye contact with the Y/H/C haired girl in his arms. 

“I’m pretty sure I like you too. But don’t think I’m letting up on anything. Your ass is going to be kicked in the next cooking competition.” He says arrogantly, however this time Y/N found his arrogance somewhat cute. She rolls her eyes and gave him a smile. 

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N stepped back from him, grabbed her little purse that she dropped due to all the activity, and began walking back in the direction of UA. Bakugou jogged up to Y/N and stopped her in her tracks. Giving him a smirk, she says, “What Bakugou, couldn’t get enough?”

“First off, it’s Katsuki to you now,” he says matter-of-factly, making her cheeks dance with red, “and you’re not walking back on those deathtraps of yours.” He leans down and gently slips her heels off and gives them to Y/N to hold. “Now c’mon, let’s go home.” He says, kind of sweetly this time. He motions for Y/N to let him give her a piggy-back ride which she gladly accepts. With her fingers hooked in her heels, Y/N lets her head lay against Bakugou’s, no, Katsuki’s, broad shoulder. She presses a gentle kiss to his neck which makes him stop in his tracks.

“L/N, if you keep on doing that sappy shit, we’re not gonna be able to make it home tonight.” He says bluntly. Y/N couldn’t see his face from the angle she was faced, but she could just tell that he was blushing.

“First off, it’s Y/N to you now,” she says, mimicking his previous statement which makes him chuckle a bit, “and I just couldn’t help it. But, carry on walking, I seem to remember a sparring match tomorrow that I need to be well rested for.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and continues walking. The two make small talk for the rest of the trip home about Y/N’s home life - not Katsuki’s, he’s not super ready for that yet, - and life in general.

“I was wrong before.” Katsuki says, making Y/N’s giddy face morph into a confused one.

“Wrong about what? There were several exchanges that we have had in the past hour.” She says, concerned that he was talking about when he revealed his feelings for her.

“It’s not a waste of a night.” He says sweetly, making Y/N grin from an ear to ear. “It’s the perfect way to spend a lovely night.”

#bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #katuski #bakugou katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsukibakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #mha #mha imagines #mha x y/n #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader

[raendown]

This follower milestone gift fic is for @ohayohimawari using the prompt word woolage. 

Pairing: KakashiMei Word count: 857 Rated: G Summary: Even dirty and tired and waiting for rescue Kakashi can still appreciate the silver lining of this shitty situation.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

it’s In What Isn’t There

“I want to say that I believe my people will find us.” The corner of Mei’s lips twisted in a wry expression even before she could finish. “Unfortunately our own skills may actually work against us in this situation.” 

“Maa, careful, I might almost take that as a compliment.”

Watching the Mizukage roll her eyes and snickering behind his hand gave Kakashi something to do other than contemplate the dread he’d been battling long before his companion finally gave voice to it. The collective skills of two such highly trained shinobi as them were nothing to sneeze at, were all that had kept them alive this long in fact, what with the dozens of rogue nin sweeping back and forth through the woods looking for them. Kakashi had been trying not to think too hard on the fact that their ability to cover their own tracks would only make it that much more difficult for help to find them. 

Things could be a lot worse, though. Neither of their injuries were serious enough to be life threatening; if not for the chakra dampening seals these clever assholes had spread throughout the forest in a wide net they would have been able to punch their way out with a couple of high level jutsu each. Or Mei could have just burned the forest down on her own while Kakashi sat back and pretended he wasn’t a little too invested in watching her do it. Neither of them were exactly slouches in the taijutsu department but they’d both done the math when they realized exactly how many people were pinning them down. Leaping in to the fray like a pair of brash genin would only get them killed. Whatever was happening, this situation required a little more finesse than that. Which unfortunately meant sitting tight until either help came to them or they figured out some kind of plan. Kakashi, at least, was glad of the company. He’d been in worse situations with less interesting people. 

If nothing else Mei was a sight to see, a memory he knew would stay with him for a very long time. Her formal robes had been cast off in the initial ambush that separated them from their retinues and the minimal clothing underneath was coated with blood and dirt in almost artful splashes. A cut across one cheek only brought her features in to sharper focus but it was the hair to which his eyes kept wandering. He’d never seen her without the topknot. It seemed like such an odd detail to focus on considering how little the style contained the rest of her long hair but without the topknot she looked somehow different. Softer. Less of a Mizukage and more of just a woman named Mei who could take the world by storm if she really wanted to. It was a good look on her. After several days trapped in a cramped little underground cave together the look had only improved as her long mane of hair grew more and more tangled. Kakashi turned his eyes away, willing his heart not to beat so fast. 

“Would your summons be able to get through undetected?” 

“Pakkun might be small enough but I’d need access to my chakra to even call him here.”

Mei frowned, irritated. “Right, of course. It’s only been a couple of days but I already feel like I’m losing my mind in here.”

“If I find it I’ll be sure to give it back,” Kakashi offered in a flippant tone. The pull of her brows said she was not amused; the reluctant curl of her lips said she was. 

“Have you always been this incorrigible?” she asked. “You’re usually much more serious.”

“We’re only ever in the same space together during formal meetings,” he pointed out.

The considering look on her face probably shouldn’t have made him feel weaker than the lack of food had. “So what is the infamous Hatake Kakashi like when he is not wearing the mantle of Hokage?” 

“From what I hear he’s a right dick.”

Mei laughed, head thrown back and one hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, and it was seeing the way her wild hair spilled out in all directions like the mirth spilling from between her lips that made Kakashi realize how badly he wanted to see this again. How novel to want things again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something for himself instead of for the village, for the mission, for the greater good. Wanting Mei was probably a bad idea considering how high profile they both were but, well, since when did he ever care if his ideas were bad?

“You’re funnier than I thought you would be,” she told him when the laughter was finally contained. 

“I’m probably a lot more things than you thought I would be.” 

“Perhaps if we survive you can show me all of them.” 

Kakashi licked his lips beneath the mask, eyes flitting away with a sudden wave of shy nerves. “Maybe,” he said. 

And he didn’t mean for the word to sound so hopeful but it was.

#rae writes #follower milestone #kakamei #kakashi #mei #fanfiction

[yourdeepestfathoms]

so are we just not going to address that Sue didn’t even TRY to save Carrie

like, this drives my anatomy-nerd self up the wall, so i’m going to evaluate a lot of the different Carrie: The Musical death scenes and see if they would actually be as fatal as they were shown to be and if Sue could have saved Carrie if she hadn’t been a bumbling idiot

(i’m not doing the movies because in 1976 she dies from the house collapsing, in 2002 she’s actually saved, and in 2013 Sue couldn’t really do anything with Carrie using her powers on her)

also i’m not saying any of this is completely accurate. i’m not a med student, i just did a lot of research and am in an anatomy class. i could be wrong BUT here’s my shot at it

Broadway Kids

okay, so, at first glance, this one looks like it could be very much fatal. you can see that Carrie gets stabbed near her spine, on the (if i did my directions correctly) left side, which is where the heart is located. HOWEVER, she is stabbed in the upper part of the back instead of the center, so it would have missed her heart.

in return, the uppermost part of the left trapezius would have sustained the most damage. the trapezius’ main function is to support the weight of the arm and control the movement of the scapulae, so a puncture wound would have most likely caused it to seize up in the reaction to the pain, resulting in the inability to lift the left arm above the shoulder. a stab to the upper part of the back would also most likely puncture the left dorsal scapular nerve, which provides motor innervation to muscles, allowing them to move the scapula.

additionally, underneath all that muscle and tissue, we come to the skeleton.

depending on exact location, Carrie most likely would have been hit around the second to fifth rib. these upper ribs are incredibly tough. to cause actual damage to the organs they protect, you would need to go between the ribs. however, you can see that Margaret stabs vertically, not horizontally, so the knife would not go in all the way. that bone is going to do its job and protect the lungs and heart by blocking it from entry. the most that could have happened is that maybe the tip got through and nicked one of the lungs, but not nearly enough to be fatal. damage would lie mainly in the flesh, muscle, and tissue.

for example:

i don’t think Carrie would be able to prop herself up on her arms like that. all her weight is going onto that injury and causing it to bleed even more, which could have been the thing that actually killed her, but not as quickly as it did.

and then we see here that she shifts all of her weight onto that injured side, which would only deepen her pain. though it is more realistic than her using the left arm to stop Margaret, as she most likely would have not been able to lift it with her injury.

BK Carrie should have survived, but dumbass Sue didn’t think to do ANYTHING, even though Carrie TELLS HER she’s hurt.

like the most she’s doing, MAYBE, is that with the way Carrie is positioned, Sue’s leg may be pressing against the wound, which would help stem the bleeding, but that’s a huge “maybe.”

but yeah, Carrie should have survived this wound.

Seattle!

it’s a little hard to see because it’s so dark, but Carrie is stabbed in the center of her back on what looks like the left side. furthermore, and what makes this version more lethal than BK, is that Margaret stabs Carrie horizontally, meaning the blade would have gone between the ribs and punctured her lung or maybe even her heart. but realistically, it would have been the lung, and this would result in something called a “sucking wound”, which is when holes are opened up in the wall of the lung and cause air to leak into the thoracic cavity instead of the lungs. despite this, they are actually rarely life-threatening. while there may be blood leaking into her lung, Carrie still has another lung to keep her breathing.

unfortunately, it’s most likely her reaction that made the stab so lethal.

i don’t know if it was done on purpose or completely on accident, but the way Carrie doesn’t scream is very much accurate to what it’s like to be stabbed. a lot of times, you aren’t going to feel the knife going in. that rush of adrenaline is going to completely numb your body for several moments. what she is going to feel, however, is her punctured lung beginning to fill with blood and her body grasping for air as breathing is reduced. this causes her to gasp, wheeze, and make strangled noises instead of an actual scream or anything verbal.

whether or not she would be able to prop herself up like that is debatable, as her trapezius was also stabbed and we’ve learned that that restricts arm movement, but it’s that panic that really does a number on her. her heart is going to start beating faster and faster, which is going to increase blood flow. so while her platelets are trying to form a clot over the wound to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible, the blood is just going to keep gushing out and disrupt that process. and to make things worse, she’s breathing very rapidly. that’s going to put a strain on the lung trying to make up for the loss of the other, while also straining that injured lung filling with blood. it’s also just harder to get air when you’re panicking, so she’s not getting nearly as much oxygen as she needs, especially when she direly needs it.

here we see a loss of limb control from the way she lies down, most likely from shock, but also potentially from the crushing pain of her lung collapsing on itself. because while a sucking wound isn’t as lethal as it may seem, panicking is going to increase that level of danger. shock will be actively working against her, but if she kept herself calm, she would be able to stay awake longer. but because she’s panicking, she’s not getting enough air to her brain, thus causing her to begin to lose control of her body.

another big “maybe” if she would be able to life the arm on the side she got stabbed in, but i’ll let it slide.

now, i think Carrie could have survived this wound, even with her panic. the thing that killed her? fucking Sue.

there’s so many things wrong about the way Sue reacted. i mean, they always react badly, but this one especially.

first of all, punctured lung. i know that Sue can’t tell that Carrie’s lung is damaged, but she should have guessed something was wrong with the way Carrie was breathing abnormally. like, the girl could barely even speak without sounding choked up.

and speaking of choking! one of her lungs is bleeding! laying her down is going to make it easier for her to inhale that blood and begin to choke. and just in general, she shouldn’t be laying down. maybe it’s more comfortable for her, but laying down is only going to decrease the room in her chest for her lungs to expand and get air. she should be sitting up.

but most of all,  Sue should have APPLIED PRESSURE TO THE FUCKING WOUND. SHE SHOULD HAVE CALLED FOR HELP. she can’t expect the victim of the injury to do all that for her- she should be smart enough to know to stop the bleeding instead of just sitting there like a useless idiot.

you wanna know what i think? i don’t think Carrie died. not in that moment. i think she just passed out from the shock, but Sue thought she had died and left her there to suffocate, even though she could have been saved.

2012 Revival

really shitty quality because the boot sucks and Marin stabs FAST, but Carrie is stabbed in the lower back, close to her waist, on what i believe is her left side because it looks like the knife is pulled out from the area closest to the audience.

so, Carrie is going to get stabbed somewhere in the left latissimus dorsi, specifically in the middle-to-lower area if i’m correct, but it’s kinda hard to tell exactly in the video. the latissimus dorsi controls several different movements for the upper body and the arms, so being stabbed in that area will most likely cause those muscles to seize up in reaction. it’s probably going to be hard for Carrie to sit up, move her arms, and even potentially move her legs.

in terms of lethality, i think this may be the most fatal blow so far if i tracked the projection of the knife correctly because i’m pretty sure it went straight into where her kidney would be. and the kidneys are essentially blood sponges.

have you ever had a kidney stone before? women who have given birth and had kidney stones say that the stones hurt worse. the first time i had one, it put me on the floor, weeping like a little baby until my mom took me to the ER at one in the morning. they’re even worse than period cramps. so if these tiny, grain-of-sand-sized chunks can cause this much pain, imagine what a knife to the kidneys could do.

the kidneys are full of nerve endings and have a lot of blood flow throughout them. they are also highly sensitive to pain. if you’ve ever been punched in the kidney before, it feels like getting the wind knocked out of you, except it’s not your lungs, it’s your whole body. and if Carrie had been stabbed here, she’s not getting up from it. certainly not as easily as she does in the show.

a shot to the kidney is going to put Carrie into immediate shock. i don’t think she would be able to scream they was she does because a blow to such a sensitive place is going to wind her. the pain would completely render her stunned for several moments. nor do i think she would be able to crawl away as she also does in the show. she should have crumpled straight to the ground after taking the hit and her body probably would have seized up for a moment because of how much pain she would be in.

the way she sits up after killing Margaret isn’t very realistic, either. she wouldn’t be able to get up after taking a knife to her kidney- not that quickly. i don’t think she would have even been able to kill Margaret in the first place. the pain had to be excruciating.

even though Sue still should have called 911 and tried to stop the bleeding, really the only thing she could do for Carrie at that point was make her comfortable. Carrie was bleeding out. so i do think this stab was realistic in how fatal it was, they just need to teach Molly how to properly act with a punctured kidney.

Branching Out!

also hard to see because of the angling, but Carrie does grab at the wound

and it looks like she had been stabbed somewhere in the center of her middle back, close to her spine and sort of where her ribs end, which means it probably struck a kidney. but not only that- the average kitchen knife tends to be eight inches in length. so that’s eight inches down to the handle going into this girl’s back, not only piercing her kidney, but also potentially a part of her large intestines and even maybe her small intestines. the result would be extremely painful, so much so that it would probably send her into shock instantly, as it should have done for 2012. but instead she screams and crawls away, which would not have been possible with such a lethal wound. the more realistic thing would be for her to crumple to the floor and open her mouth to scream and cry, but not actually be able to make any noise.

once again, Sue should have done more to save her life, but the wound was really bad. Carrie was rapidly bleeding out. it was nice that Sue soothed her, but she could have at least TRIED. like, CARRIE is the only putting the pressure on the wound. Sue should be doing that, not the victim.

Off-West End

you can’t see the knife because Margaret actually slashes Carrie’s throat instead of stabbing her, but this actually has to be the most realistic version of Carrie’s death, even though you would think neck wounds would be complicated.

so, Carrie gets her throat slit. the simplest damage she’s going to sustain is injury to her platysma, which serves to produce different facial expressions such as surprise, sadness, and horror, and also helps open the mouth from where it’s attached to the mandible. this would most likely make it painful for her to speak.

even further than her platysma, there’s damage to her sternocleidomastoid, which connects the sternum and clavicle to the skull. this is the muscle that allows the head to turn and nod, so when that gets cut through, she’s going to have some problems turning her head, if she is even capable of doing so in the first place.

and then even deeper and more severe than that are all of the organs in her neck. the most at risk are her larynx and trachea. but most importantly are the two major vessels in her throat: the jugular and the cartoid.

upon getting her throat slashed, Carrie immediately begins to sputter and cough as her jugular was most likely cut through and her lungs begin to fill with blood. despite this, she would actually be able to still talk, as there are many stories of people talking even after they got their throat slashed.

props to them for the realism in making Carrie HOLD THE DAMN WOUND SHUT. when it comes to something that is bleeding or just spilling in general, especially a throat wound, your first instinct is to COVER IT UP and STOP THE FLOW.

even further: THEY HAVE SUE HOLD THE WOUND.

FINALLY.

not only is Sue’s hand over it, but Carrie’s is, too, meaning even more pressure on that wound. this is a good thing because not only will the jugular and cartoid bleed a ton, they will also spray blood like a high pressure hose. of course, this isn’t possible onstage, so i’ll let them slide, but MAJOR points on not having Sue be completely useless. she still should have called an ambulance, especially for a slit throat, but i can give her a pass because she is having to hold the wound shut and hold Carrie’s body up.

speaking of: that’s a good position she’s in. Carrie is slouched at an angle with her head downwards, meaning the blood will fall out of her mouth instead of going back in if she were to cough it up. lying her down or cradling her on her back with her head tipped up will only make it easier for her to choke.

as the scene goes on, we hear Carrie start to gasp and wheeze as she drowns in her blood. very realistic. that’s going to cause a panic, but she probably doesn’t have the energy or blood to even do that.

despite all of these injuries, i don’t think Carrie would have died from them if Sue had just done something more to help her.

here’s my running theory: Sue let Carrie die. she knew she could have done something, she just chose not to. there was a chance for Carrie to live, but she didn’t let that happen. perhaps out of revenge for the massacre? maybe Sue was darker than we all thought...

extreme tldr: Miss Gardener should have gone to Carrie’s house instead of Sue because she would have actually done something

#yes i KNOW this is a show about a girl with telekinesis #but that doesn't mean the wounds have to be depicted in inaccurate ways #i took this post way too far but i had Fun #carrie #carrie the musical #broadway kids carrie #seattle carrie #carrie 2012 #branching out carrie #off west end carrie #carrie white #sue snell #tw: wounds #tw: blood

[amethystpath-writes]

BTHB Communication Suddenly Cut Off

@badthingshappenbingo

Original work!

Communication Suddenly Cut Off

******

Hero adjusted her shoulder, elbow on the arm of her chair. "No way!" She dropped her spoon into her bowl of cereal. "She actually said that to him?"

On the other end of the line, Friend laughed. "Oh yeah. I don't blame her a single bit! I mean, he was borderline stalking her. You remember when we were at Max & Erma's and he dressed up as a waiter just to see her? Insane."

Picking her spoon back up and shoveling it into her mouth, Hero mumbled a 'Yeah, guess you're right'.

"So what have you been up to? I missed you at the party today. You doing alright?"

Bending forward with legs bent on the cushion, Hero put her bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She grabbed her phone with a hand instead of holding it between her head and shoulder. Hero was cramping enough without having to take up weird body positions.

"I'm alright," she said. "Just exhausted from work, you know?" Exhausted from fighting a villain you hopefully know nothing about.

Friend was silent for a moment. "I get it. It sucks not seeing you though. Maybe we could have a movie night." Her voice pitched at this. "Be exhausted all you want that way. I'll get us some popcorn. And! I'll get the nacho cheese stuff to sprinkle over it!" Hero smiled in her seat. "I'll pick up a few movies from Redbox, too, so we don't have to watch a bunch of oldies. Okay, that's it. That's the plan. Now," Friend hummed then began mumbling, "It's five o'clock and Mom needs eggs from the store. I'll try to be there by-"

The line went fuzzy, a quiet chshhhhhh. "Friend? Hey, you're cutting out." Hero stood from the chair, walking to the window. Maybe there was better reception there? If it was on Friend's end then it didn't matter much, but she could at least try. "Friend? You there?" She pulled the phone away, the screen of her phone lighting up. Hero was on a second call. No name though. Weird. She hung up, or at least tried to. The screen hadn't changed when she tapped the little red phone. Hero tapped it again, but nothing happened.

Next time she tapped the counting timer that told her how long she was on a call with Friend. The phone call returned normally and the other disappeared. She shook her head.

"H-ero? I th-ink-"

Hero cut to the chase. The call wasn't getting any better. "What time?"

Chshhhhhh.

Damnit, Hero thought, and peeked at her phone again. 'Unknown Caller' it read for a second time. "Hello?" she said impatiently. No answer. "Hellooo?" Nothing.

She hit the home screen, tapping the text message icon then tapped on Friend's contact. 'Hey. Phones are acting weird. What time do you think you'll be here?' Hero typed. Hitting send, a red and encircled X appeared. 'Message failed to send' it said below. She touched the X and then touched where it said 'Retry'. The X reappeared. Hero repeated the process once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "What the hell?" Her phone was slow sometimes, but never this bad. "She'll get here when she gets here I guess."

Her phone began to ring just as she tossed it on the couch across the room. Sighing, she went to pick it back up. 'Unknown Caller'. No. If it was important, they could leave a message or text her. Hero didn't pick up from numbers she didn't know, or from numbers that didn't appear on screen. She pushed the lock button on the side of the phone, rejecting the call.

"How rude, rejecting my call."

Hero froze. Her shoulders drew tight, her spine straightened so much that it cramped as badly as when she held her phone with a shoulder. Her jaw clenched and her eyes went wide, staring vacantly at the couch cushion in front of her. Was Hero breathing? If she was, she didn't feel it.

"Won't talk to me on the phone and now not in person either, hm?"

Goosebumps rose along her arms as she heard the villain stepping closer. How had he gotten in? She turned. "How did you find me? Where did you get my information? What else do you know?" Information being both her address and phone number, maybe even her specific phone if he was able to block her communications the way he did.

Villain looked so casual, he always did. You'd never expect him to be a madman who plotted humanity's demise. He looked like a fancy historian; brown pants, black turtleneck, plaid and half buttoned jacket. He had his hands planted in his pants pockets now. Hero still had no idea how he managed to get inside of her apartment.

He chuckled at her uptight-ness. "Can't we just chat for once- for a minute before you question my how-comings and motives?"

"No," Hero responded shortly.

Villain fake-pouted. "How's come? You and your friend seem great. I would love to gossip to you the same way."

Hero rolled her eyes. Her shoulders were still tense, but she was relaxing- not so far that she wasn't prepared, but just enough that she wasn't uptight beyond movement. "You didn't answer me. What else do you know? How did you learn anything about me?"

He smiled at her. "Now that's a fun story. Guess I get to monologue after all."

"Make it short."

"Or what?" He dazzled her with a wider smile, one that showed teeth. Was it just her or were they sharpened? It was just her, definitely just her- and her anxiety, her terror.

Villain strode to the chair Hero had been sitting in just minutes ago. He plopped down, ankle on knee, arms on either side. "Go on," he told her. "Sit."

"Maybe you should stand."

He chuckled without moving. "Darling, I don't think you understand how easy I have been on you. In multiple ways, actually." His eyes fell from her own to the couch behind her. "Sit." Villain looked at Hero again and she swore something changed in his eyes. They almost seemed darker. She obeyed.

"Now, I think you recall that little stalker of your friend?" Hero squinted, but nodded. "Did you know he's able to take up the appearance of anyone he wishes?" He didn't wait for a response. "In that, he's also able to project his own appearance onto bystanders, even control what they would do as him. Very talented, very...mindfully aware."

Hero shook her head. "Where are you going with this?"

He shushed her, softly, as if she was a baby. "He came under my employment about a month ago. Remind me," he said, "how long ago it was that your friend became ill."

Her eyes went wide and she nearly launched from her seat, realizing what he meant. Villain might attack her if she acted out so suddenly though. Hero remained seated.

"What have you done with her?" she demanded. It made sense what he said. Whoever his worker was, he made himself look like Friend 2 then made anyone else appear like him. But where was Friend 2 if she hadn't been with Hero and Friend all along?

"Nothing too dastardly. She isn't starving, but I'm sure she would appreciate a nice chicken dinner."

"And Friend?" she asked, somewhat panicked. Friend was okay, she had to be. Yeah, the phone call ended somewhat abruptly, but that was just because Villain interfered. Beyond that, she was fine, right?

Villain shrugged. "What do you think?"

Her eyes stung with tears she refused to let fall. She shook her head. "Why are you here? What are you doing?"

"Entertaining myself mostly. You're my opponent. I wanted to brag."

"I'll kill you," she swore. "If not tonight, I will find you like you did me, and I'll kill you when I do."

Villain's eyes twinkled from afar. "Cute. Very cute." He laughed heartily. "I told you already that I've been easy on you, right?" Again, he didn't wait for an answer. "I'm here for more than bragging rights. I want you to come with me. I've given you opportunity enough to back down on your own; I'm giving you another now. Come with, or I'll have to force your hand."

Her eyes became squinted and her lip lifted. "I'm sorry?"

"Surrender," Villain said simply. His legs uncrossed and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "If you don't I'll take you away forcibly."

Hero huffed a laugh. "As if you could. When have you ever bested me?" In truth, she was terrified. He was being serious, no amusement crossing his features. And the number of times he'd mentioned 'going easy on her'...what if he was telling the truth?

"Try something now then. Lunge at me." His lips were in a straight line. No emotion.

She considered him. Serious. He's serious. Villain was inviting her to attack him. Maybe she should take the opportunity.

Without another thought, she leaped from the couch, ready to tackle Villain, even though he was in a chair. She would have knocked the whole chair back if she could. But, something stopped her, a- a wall of sorts, one that glimmered like a bubble. "What-?" She touched that wall. Her fingers couldn't pass through. Shaking her head, she spun on a heel trying to return to the couch. Unfortunately she ran into another wall. "You're doing this," Hero muttered, facing Villain once again. She swallowed seeing his smile.

"So, you'll come with on your own. Otherwise I can push you along myself, and I think that would be rather humiliating, don't you?"

"This doesn't prove anything. You can push me, but you can't command me."

"Isn't it the same?" Villain sighed seeing Hero's fiery stubbornness. "Fine then. Let's have a little charade." He stood from Hero's chair, face forming into something...something Hero didn't quite understand. "I forgot to grab something to drink before I came here. Do you have something for me to drink, Hero?"

Her lips moved. "Yes, of course, Villain. Let me show you to the kitchen." Her hand flew to her mouth afterward. She hadn't said that. She hadn't said that. Hero's eyes found Villain's.

"Lead the way," he said.

Hero's feet moved on their own, leading the two to her kitchen despite how she tried to resist. She couldn't even feel herself pulling back. There was no resistance except for in her thoughts. She began unwillingly talking again. "There's some water bottles in the bottom right drawer. Fruit punch juice boxes on the left- though my younger cousin will be disappointed when she finds not only me missing, but her juice as well." 'When she finds not only me missing.' So this was how Villain would take her, by commanding her just like she said he couldn't.

What was almost worse was that what Villain made her say was exactly right. Water bottles, bottom right drawer. Fruit punch juice boxes in the left drawer. One of three things could have happened. One, Villain had that stalker, body-switching guy, go through her home while she was gone. Two, Villain himself went through her house while Hero was absent, or when he somehow snuck into her house while simultaneously messing with her phone today. Three, he had access to her mind. The last one would have sounded ridiculous if it weren't for the way Villain was controlling her now.

"You're realizing you have no choice now, aren't you?"

Hero nodded her head. She couldn't tell whether it was her doing it or if Villain was still possessing her. Either way, he was right.

"Why?" she asked. Villain tilted his head. Hero believed he could have gotten his answer if he wanted. Still, she continued, "Why are you doing this? Taking me? Is it not enough that you've taken my friends?"

Her body turned to the exit. She began walking through, walking to the front door of her apartment. They were really leaving. She was going to get sick.

"I'm tired of you fighting is all. It will be much easier to accomplish my goals if I don't have to worry about turning you away every time."

"Then kill me." She swallowed after she said it. Hero didn't really want him to kill her, but she also didn't want to be taken. Villain said Friend 2 was okay, not starving, but would certainly be happier if she was given more. Hero had a feeling she wouldn't be given the same treatment. Villain might actually starve her because of her putting a kink in all of his plans, for not surrendering when she was given multiple chances to.

"Am I really so awful to be around?" Villain asked behind her as she led the way to the elevators. "I should think my style makes up for any unpleasantness. This jacket was bought yesterday. I'm rather dashing in it, aren't I?"

Just as unwillingly as before, Hero said, "Yes, very."

******

Requests are accepted!

#not a prompt #long post #hero x villain #creepy villain #creepy whumper #hero whumpee #vilain whumper #prompt: communication suddenly cut off #fandom: original work

[buck-nialled]

Empty Pages - R. Mendes (3)

NOTE: well if you saw my last post then you know how this chapter is going to end but if you haven't, well, get ready *cue evil laughter* also let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list by messaging or replying to this post, thanks!

PROLOGUE // PART ONE // PART TWO

Raul was not expecting to put that much effort into the drawing, really. Half of the hard work was already done, thanks to Lily and Mrs. Basel discussing most of what the work’s finer elements were right in earshot of him. The boy thought by the time he was finished sketching out the rough design in number two pencil, going as far as to outline it in black pen exhibited enough effort. But he knew it was lacking in its message and persuasion. The anger only the red colored pencil glaring at him from the unopened box buried beneath the healing pile of past schoolwork on his desk could portray to his audience. His fingers twitched and finally, his body caved and leaped up from his bed and to his desk where he reached for the box of perfectly sharpened, untouched pencils.

He was tentative with his color choice, and even more cautious when blending the different shades and allowing movement across the piece. No weights nor frivolous purchases of ripped jeans and leather jackets would come to be quite as cathartic as scrubbing the colored lead furiously back and forth across the paper. A full two hours had passed when Raul finally conceded to his completed drawing and set the dull pencil down. His hands were cramping, and various splotches of blended wax tainted his palms and knuckles like bruises, but he felt okay with it, strangely.

“Hey, Raul do you—” Shawn’s voice made his brother’s head snap up from the drawing to look at him. “Woah, dude…that looks great.” Shawn slowly approached his brother’s work with caution, afraid to lift even a finger in fear of Raul reaching out to snap it. “And I thought you were going to cheat off of me or Pete.” He chuckles, eyes continuing to study the slogan and illustration encompassing the destruction of routine and tradition. “You came up with this yourself?”

Raul bit his lip, now becoming irritated with Shawn’s wandering eyes. “Did you need something?” The older asks, rising up from his bed so his frame could shield the paper. Shawn’s eyes grew wide and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I was just gonna ask if you still had that drawing stuff. You know, the stuff that mom gave you that one—” Shawn’s ask was interrupted with a sharp “oof” when Raul shoved the box of pencils against his chest.

“Anything else you need?” He quirks a brow to his brother. Shawn sets his lips into a firm line and shakes his head, before sending Raul a quick ‘thanks’ and retreating back into his own bedroom. When his bedroom door is shut once again, Raul heaves a sigh and lets his tired hands into the river of curls say on his head. The heap of gel he applied to his hair this morning made the dark locks a little less smooth than what he had imagined. Turning back to face the paper with a sigh, Shawn’s unanswered question continued ringing in his ears until he slid the paper into his folder and the folder into his backpack.

“It’s just a project. Just a project…” Raul repeated this mantra to himself that night until he fell asleep.

The following morning, Lily waltzed up to her teacher’s desk with the best smile her fatigued state could muster, propaganda in hand ready to hand in.

“Here you are, Mrs. K.”

“Oh, no sweetie. You’re going to be presenting them.” Her eyes flicked away from the digital attendance sheet on her computer screen and to the young woman. Lily notes that her eyes never even glanced over her work, meaning other students must have had the same idea of turning it in.

“Oh…everybody?” Her smile begins faltering. The teacher hums and sends a small nod, cueing Lily to walk to her desk with crushed expectations. As she sank down into the chair, the sight of a brooding form drenched in black caught her site. She tilted her head to the right, spotting Raul Mendes early and eager in his chair. Had Raul not been adorned in the shirt with burn holes near his collarbone and eight years younger, there was no doubt Lily would be on the edge of her seat beside him, drumming against the wooden desks with their no. 2 pencils in anticipation.

But Lily would say she overall felt a riveting urge in her stomach to make a beeline toward the school clinic and bluff her anxiety with a stomachache. Mrs. K completed attendance as the girl continued to gnaw on her lip.

“Alright, let’s begin!” The instructor announces, reading down the line of various names. Finally, she reached ‘M’ and beckoned Raul up to stand before the rows of desks and share his work. Normally, Raul would prefer his brothers (mostly Peter) to be in the same class as him, in order for time to be stalled even longer for any assignments the oldest might have missed the night previous. Raul, however, lacked a single complaint in his mind as he let his black sneakers steer him to stand in front of his English class with a tantalizing smirk.

“I title this piece: Breaking Tradition.” Silence followed the boy’s introduction due to the overwhelming surprise his peers felt that Raul not only completed his project within the given time limit but did so marvelously. Some lips parted in appalment--Mrs. K’s included—while others gasped. The initial silence was not long-lasting, however, and the proof lied in arbitrary whisper’s floating around the cinderblock building, all discussing Raul’s piece.

But one voice remained silent through the tirade of talk. Her jaw was too busy clenching furiously. Her teeth were grinding together to the point where they might have ground one another to dust but Lily could care less. That was her idea on his paper. That was her design she discussed with Mrs. Basel only a day prior, which was displayed gloriously on Raul Mendes’s paper. Even worse, it looked better than hers did, despite the hours she spent through the night blending and measuring and lettering every word on the damn slogan to perfection.

And the man stood to the front of the class just sat with an accomplished smile and dazzling brown eyes, as if he thought he deserved the credit. Her heart began thrumming in her chest, drowning out some of Raul’s syllables amidst his explanation which Lily was certain mimicked her presentation verbatim. Her fingers curled and twisted against her palms, the nails she would bite everyday subconsciously now digging broken crescents into her skin. Mad was one emotion Lily never found herself yearning to express—unlike Raul, who found no trouble allowing his to show a swelling bruise against Connor’s cheek—but this anger surging through her veins and rampant pulse appearing at her temples in seconds felt multiplied. The girl was furious.

As her sight of Raul began to become tainted with red, she detected Raul’s eyes in one, continuous spot. They remained on Isabella’s seat for the duration of his speech, though his target was not trying her hardest to reciprocate. From Lily’s seat, one could see the artificial light graze the girl’s profile like a brushstroke. Her jawline was slim and sharp, yet her lips portrayed a soft, childlike pout as she gazed adoringly down at her recently manicured set, coated in only the most overelaborate-named polishes, like “Harp Seal Silver Fur” or “Black Kyoto Pearl”. If it was not her nails, it was the new string of text messages her and Connor were participating in more often than class discussions if the teacher was too enthralled by the symbolism Orwell disguises so carefully, or how the human brain makes up an entire two percent of your body weight.

Unfortunately for Lily, she was also seated beside Isabella in their anatomy course, very much against her will.

“Brilliant job.” Mrs. K mutters to Raul upon him handing her his work. He returns the compliment with a taller smirk than he was holding before as if he was not staring into the woman responsible for questioning his attendance only two days prior. His eyes flickered back to Isabella and remained on her throughout his journey back into his desk seat, absorbing her from every angle, and allowing his footsteps to slow in their stride.

“Lily?” Her head snapped away from the spot Raul was just occupying, to Mrs. K, heartbeat rattling her ribcage like a xylophone out of tune.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn…” The teacher informs.

“Oh…uh…” Her cheeks were aflame but thankful for her shoulder-length hair to curtain them as she tilted her head down to the open binder. Her work glared back at her, yearning so badly to be picked up and bragged about, but how was she to repeat the last five minutes of class in a different body and less adequate art piece, and not expect consequences. Judging by Raul’s unbridled confidence, Lily doubts he would come clean about his plagiarism. Even worse, he would not hesitate to manipulate the situation to fixate the blame on Lily, instead. It was not hard to do with the golden honey encapsulated in his irises and pair of choppers he has since been exchanging for a fine smirk. The point is that, though she had an honest reputation, so did Raul Mendes—for the most part. And who was she to allow that to possibly deteriorate within a matter of minutes over a school assignment?

It would be the mature thing to do, sure. But this was high school, and an eighteen your old Raul Mendes has made it clear that playing dirty in order to appease this newly constructed figure of his was less than bothersome.

“I guess…I-I forgot.” Lily murmurs quietly from her desk, closing her binder to remove the work from her sight. “Sorry, Mrs. K.” There was a tingling sensation against her right cheek from Raul’s speculating pair, but the feeling faded from her profile seconds after Isabella’s presence was invited to the front of the class by the instructor.

She would find a way to avenge the assignment soon. Little did her privy classmate know that Lily Mirray could play dirty when fate beckons for it. And fate’s call was Isabella standing up from her seat and strutting towards the whiteboard, skirt swishing in each step.

Raul’s fascinated stare remained on Isabella’s form throughout her entire presentation.

And so did Lily’s.

TAGLIST; @fanficshawn @lonelyreputation @shawnmendez @fan-of-many-bands

#shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #mendes triplet au #mendes triplets #raul mendes #peter mendes

[library-bookwyrm]

The Importance of Names

The Apprentice continued to fidget a bit, shuffling from foot to foot and twisting a loose thread on the inside of his left sleeve, as the Shadow filled the summoning circle, although he did stop humming under his breath. The Sorcerer masked his own surprise, badly - it wasn't his first attempt (or even his tenth) and he had frankly given up on succeeding. It was simply what one did on a Tuesday night. He narrowed his eyes as the Shadow grew, worried that the circle was too small to hold the beast. It was tight, but the circle held. The Shadow, very clearly, was annoyed as much by the cramped space it was allowed as by the summoning itself. It couldn't remember the last time someone had pulled it from the Darkness, and it wasn't particularly happy to be back in the World.

Its face almost touching the edge of the circle's wall of containment, the Shadow growled, "I Am Not Happy To Be Back In The World."

The Sorcerer nervously cleared his throat and replied in his most commanding voice, "I bind you to my service!" The Apprentice stifled a snicker; the Sorcerer's most commanding voice was not particularly impressive. The Shadow rumbled, "You Do Not Bind Me. You Must Have My Name To Bind Me. You Do Not Know My Name. So, You Do Not Bind Me."

For a moment, there was silence. The Shadow lazily flexed one set of claws, digging furrows into the stone floor. It purred a bit. The Apprentice wondered how long it would take the beast to dig through to the room beneath; wondered further if the Sorcerer had noticed the danger. Remember this, he noted to himself. Spheres of containment - not circles - for summoning. Or, he added after another moment of silence, shifting again and twirling the loose thread around his smallest finger, Don't summon Shadows without knowing their Names first.

"Ah!" The Sorcerer blinked and smiled as though he had solved some great riddle. "As I have summoned you and contain you here, we must have a bargain. I do not need your Name for that much. You will answer my questions!"

The Shadow turned within the circle and stretched up as far as the ceiling, testing the magic and the space containing it. When it resettled, it began running two sets of claws down the wall, creating a noise that seemed to amuse it as much as it distressed the others. The Apprentice noticed it had not deepened the furrows it had dug earlier and realized the beast believed it could get through the circle faster than it could get through the floor or the roof. Very strong spheres, he amended his earlier note to himself. He debated backing away to the nearest window, but decided to wait a bit longer. It was likely the Shadow would go for the Sorcerer first, he reasoned, which would give him ample opportunity to escape should he need to do so.

"Stop that!" grumbled the Sorcerer, but the Shadow continued. The Sorcerer shook his head and repeated, "You will answer my questions!"

"Three," the Shadow returned. "Three Questions. Then I Will Be Released."

"Well, that depends on whether or not I like the answers," the Sorcerer snapped. The Shadow chuckled - not a pleasant sound - but the Apprentice had narrowed his eyes and was listening much more closely now. "My first question: if it was not your Name I called, why did you answer my Summoning?"

The Shadow stopped drawing its claws down the circle's wall and hissed into the resulting silence, "Sixteen." The scratchy squealing as it resumed dragging its claws (four sets now, and the Apprentice wondered exactly how many sets of claws the beast had) through the containment magic took up residence in the Sorcerer's head. He worried that he was going to have one hell of a headache after this. "Sixteen Times, You Have Sent The Summoning. Sixteen Times, You Have Cast Forth A Badly Baited Hook. Sixteen Times, I Have Wakened To The Pealing Of Your Voice In The Silence, The Glare Of Your Desire In The Darkness, The Heat Of Your Impudence In The Cold. I Did Not Come To Answer You. I Came To Shut You Up. Some Of Us Are Trying To Sleep. You Summon Badly."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" snapped the Sorcerer.

"In A Manner Of Speaking. You Have One Question Left."

"No, that wasn't a real question!" But the Sorcerer waved a hand to dismiss the argument before it really began. He was irritated and his head hurt; besides, he only needed the answer to one question. "What is your Name, beast, so that I can bind you?"

"You Should Have Known My Name Before You Called The First Time," the Shadow answered. "You Should Have Realized Something Was Wrong With Your Summoning And Done More Research Before Trying Again. You Should Have Stopped Trying To Summon Me And Turned Your Hand To Something Less Dangerous At The Third Failure. You Are Weak. You Are Pathetic. You Are Potentially Delicious. You Are - "

"You are not answering my question!" interrupted the Sorcerer. The Apprentice reconsidered backing away to the window, but shuffled from foot to foot and tied a knot in the loose thread in his sleeve instead. He realized the Shadow had not once glanced his way. He wondered if he could avoid attention. Probably not.

The Shadow became very still. One set of claws drummed once, very lightly, against the magic containing it. "You Will Not Bind Me. My Name Is Mine And Mine Alone. The Time For Names Has Passed."

There was a heartbeat of silence - then two. Three. The Apprentice shifted again. The whisper of his movement seemed suddenly very loud. The Sorcerer twisted toward him to snap, "Will you please stay still? And stop fiddling with your sleeve!" The Apprentice opened his mouth, although he wasn't quite sure what he expected to come out. Perhaps, an apology for distracting the Sorcerer at such a delicate moment in the course of the night's events. Maybe, a stern complaint about the quality of apprenticeship he was receiving from a sorcerer who could only accidentally summon an unfortunately intractable and irrepressible Shadow. Most likely, a scream of pure terror as too many sets of claws burst through the circle's wall of containment and latched onto the Sorcerer, pulling him back to the beast's teeth.

The Apprentice turned to the window but made no attempt to escape. Turning back again, he found the Shadow already stalking him, no remnant of the Sorcerer to be seen. Very tidy, he thought distantly; and then he bound the beast by its Name.

He did not wish to keep the Shadow, no more than the Shadow wished to be kept. Both were eager to set everything just right, to give the beast back its Name and cast it out of the World. Later, he made himself an omelette and considered his life's goals. Perhaps he could turn the tower into a bed and breakfast. The location was good; the scenery spectacular, he mused, glancing out at the sunrise. He was a decent cook and made quite excellent egg dishes. Chewing thoughtfully on his third bite, still musing potential names for the place (all of them featuring sunlight and none of them mentioning shadows), he used a very sharp kitchen knife to snip out the loose thread on the inside of his left sleeve.

#Fantasy #Short Story #Bookwyrm Stories #Names Are Important

[drkoestersmithrpg]

Let Me Take Care Of You

“Do we need a safety word?”

Peter didn’t want to kill the mood, he really didn’t. But after the yogurt and the apple sauce and the milk, well, he couldn’t help it.  He was getting nervous.

In Tony’s defense, the man had said “will you let me take care of you tonight?” and Peter had enthusiastically said “yes.”  He couldn’t deny that.  Only he thought “take care of you” meant… well… a little more meat and a lot less… yogurt.  

 * * *

 Altogether, Peter estimated, he still had at least 12 broken bones.  Most were in that his right foot and ankle which is why he was limping so badly, the rest in his wrist and arm, which didn’t hurt much as long as he didn’t move them.  As long as he didn’t move anything on the right side, he was fine. He sat quietly on Tony’s couch, propped up on pillows and enjoying the attention, taking stock every few minutes.  All the damage on his left side, as well as his neck and shoulders and back, was gone, and his jaw had healed completely.  Peter lay back in his warm comfy spot, snuggled under his warm blanket and smiled a secret smile.  Lack of pain was good.  Lack of pain meant it wouldn’t be hard to talk his lover into doing what his lover was clearly wanting to do.

And he could tell what Tony had in mind, even though Tony would certainly deny it.  Absolutely deny it, and insist that Peter needed to rest.  But Tony was also calling him “baby boy” as he set him up on the couch with everything he needed within arms reach, and “baby boy” were words Peter only heard in bed.  

Right now Tony was in another room, arguing with someone on his phone, and that made Peter smile even more.  Tony was arguing that he WAS going to be unavailable for the next 12 hours, and there was only one reason why Tony would do that.  Not for sleep, that’s for sure.  Tony never argued that he needed time for sleep. Tony was making it clear to the unfortunate people on the phone that he’d be on radio silence for 12 hours because he absolutely had something else in mind.  And Peter didn’t mind that.  Peter didn’t mind that at all.

Right now Peter was supposed to be watching the television (maybe Netflix?  So they could Netflix and chill?  Peter grinned stupidly at the joke he had just told in his head.  Of course he didn’t want to chill... the ice and sleet of the wreck in the runway was all the ‘chill’ he needed for the rest of the year.  Now he just wanted Netflix and warm.  That joke made him grin even more.)

But he had turned the TV off completely.  He didn’t want noise now he wanted silence.  He wanted to lay back and smile and savor his sweet memories in warmth and peace.

The memory of that blinding sleet and driving snow and biting cold and Tony grabbing him and kissing him in front of the whole gang… well maybe they all couldn’t see it through the snow but... well some of them saw no doubt.  And that kiss... that was a memory he wanted to remember forever. Because, in that very instant, Tony had ended the whole should-we-or-shouldn’t we when it came to going public with their relationship.  Because after Peter had climbed his way out from under the two airplanes and onto the tarmac to walk into Tony’s arms… well… Tony’s complete lack of impulse control had ended that argument for both of them.  The cat was out of the bag… or maybe the spider was out of the… anyway they were both out of the closet holding hands and there was no going back from that.  Peter lay back on his warm pillows and under his warm blanket and smiled and savored.  

And now the phone call was over, and Tony was bringing things into the living room that he had promised... the hot chocolate.  Full of marshmallows just the way Peter liked.  

Peter didn’t object when Tony insisted on holding the cup for him, although both hands were working now.  He willingly snuggled into Tony’s arm leaned into his shoulder.  He even allowed the man to spoon feed him the marshmallows, although that seemed a little over the top.  And because Tony was talking to him so sweetly... seemed so worried that he hadn’t eaten at all... he agreed to a few soft foods.  And after that… well, they would have the next 12 hours to figure out what came after that.  Tony had mentioned something earlier about Peter being ‘too banged up’ for any extracurricular activities, but Peter was pretty damn sure he could change the older man’s mind.  Especially after that same man had kissed him in front of ALL of the Avengers and Nick Fury to boot.  Especially because after ‘dinner’ Tony was definitely going to hold him and tell him something about ‘if I ever lost you.’  And especially since Tony was ALREADY calling him ‘baby boy.’

                                                                  * * *

 For it was absolutely amazing, leaning in Tony’s strong arm and being held close.  Even the absurdity of being spoon fed everything, even though he had already made it clear he was better after the coco, seemed to be okay since it was Tony doing it.  

And Tony seemed to really be enjoying it. And all those “that’s it” and “good boys” were really making it hard to say no.  (The truth was, when Tony said “good boy” in bed, it really made Peter weak in the knees.  And “that’s my good boy?”  That could make him come on the spot.)

But now there was yogurt and applesauce and a cup of milk and, well, that was just strange.  And hearing those words, and feeling that thrill going through his entire body, only to suddenly be faced with a spoonful of yogurt?  Well… his body was getting seriously mixed signals and it was making him very uneasy.  He flinched and turned his head away when Tony pressed the cup of milk to his mouth… not that Tony minded the tiny spill it caused.  In fact it was when Tony started cleaning him up with the soft white dish towel (with a whisper of “Oh, messy baby”)  that Peter started to catch on.

“No milk, just water please,” was all he said at first. He let Tony hold the water bottle for him and drank obediently, then finished off the yogurt and applesauce without comment.  But when they were both done, Peter realized his stomach was in knots and that's when he spoke.

He seemed to startle Tony a bit, but the man recovered instantly and shook his head no.  “Just... just the usual safety word…” he said softly.  “Foot cramp, just like always.  And we can stop now... if you want?”

“Oh no no no…”  Peter said quickly.  Tony had looked so peaceful moments before, so content.  Now he looked worried.  Peter would do anything to make that look go away.

But there was no denying the knot in his stomach.  And if he wanted that to go away…

He took a deep breath and plunged forward.

“I just need to know what comes next,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too inexperienced.  Too naïve. Too young.  “When you said… ‘take care of you.’  I didn’t know it meant… I mean that was really nice,” he said, nodding toward the food and the spoon Tony had used to feed him with. Even though the food had made him a little queasy.  “I just… need to know.. what comes next.  I mean… what you want to do.  Next. To me.  In bed.  That’s all.”

“Nothing weird…” Tony said, but his face looked strained.  As if he HAD thought of something ‘weird’ and just now got caught.  “I just wanted…”  He looked back toward the bedroom, then turned and brought their foreheads together.

“I just wanted to carry you into the bedroom and… take care of you, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Peter sighed, smiling.  A thrill went through his entire body, and he slipped his hand behind Tony’s neck and pulled him in close.  “Oh yes, oh that sounds very nice.”

Tony kissed him then, gently and tenderly, and Peter melted into his arms with a moan.

But it still wasn’t right.  No matter how many times he told himself to relax and trust his lover, he just couldn’t do it.  For one thing Tony’s kisses were still gentle and tender, and as much as Peter enjoyed this nicer, slower pace (so different from their normal furious removal of clothing and desperate attempts to get closer until they were leaving bruises on each other) Tony’s tenderness was making him nervous and the doubts in his head were getting louder.

Because, let’s face it, Tony was into things.

Kinky things.  Complicated things. Complicated, kinky things.  It wasn’t just the infamous sex tapes AND the notorious private-plane-where-the-stewardesses-were-also-strippers AND giant beds that could hold 8 people AND the drawer full of leather instruments Peter had found accidentally.  It was just the part where they had established a safety word before they had even had sex.  There was just the simple fact that Tony was an older, experienced, famous playboy, and Peter was… well…

Peter was just Peter.

And that sucked.  And Peter had tried to ignore it and soldier on as if every single thing in Tony’s crazy past was really okay and kosher with him, but that didn’t always work out. Like when Tony once presented him with an alphabetized lists of kinks and Peter couldn’t bring himself to admit he didn’t know even know what half those words meant.  And while “take care of you” sounded like a little bit of heaven, there was also a little worried part of Peter’s brain telling him that “take care of you” might mean something more complicated.  

And he couldn’t hide his reservations.  Tony pulled back a little and looked into his face, so he charged forward.

“So… just to be clear… just so I understand…”

Tony’s face softened and he leaned in to explain.

“I want to carry you into the shower,” he whispered, stroking Peter’s face.  “get you cleaned up, maybe help you… clean up.  

“And then you’ll let me slick you up… nothing exotic… just slick you up like I always do.  

“And then… if you let me… I’ll carry you into the bedroom and do all the things you like.  Nice and gentle.  No surprises there.  Only, afterward, well…

“Well… we’ll need to shower again.  So maybe, if you’re still in the mood, you’ll let me carry you back there, and clean you up all over again.  For as long as you’ll let me, or until you use the safe word. That’s all I meant.”

Peter listened and nodded, grinning a little, maybe biting his lip a bit, as Tony described it.  By the time Tony pulled back enough to look into his face (and say, “Does that sound okay baby?”) he was grinning like a fool.

“Oh yeah, yeah that sounds good, I’d like that. Only…”

He bit his lip harder and blushed as he tried to say it. In the end, all he could do was lean up to Tony and whisper it in his ear.

“I really… really like it when you… when you say I’m being ‘good for you.’  Or telling me I’m a… a ‘good boy.’  Or ‘your good boy.’  I really like that.”  

Tony moaned appreciatively and pulled him close.

“Oh baby… you should get hit with colliding planes more often.”

#will publish tomorrow