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michelleleewise · 1 year

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So I have a prompt if you're willing.

So like a bunch I've seen in the past, what if Loki has a crush on the reader and doesn't know how to process his feelings. So he picks on her, pulls pranks on her, and just being kind of mean to her. But of course Loki doesn't see it that way. Instead of the reader standing up for herself or trying to beat him at his own game, she gets really down on herself. Being picked on reminds her of her bullies from highschool and all the bad feelings come back. She starts to isolate herself, grows quiet, and starts skipping things if she finds out Loki's going to be there. It isn't until Nat (or whoever) sets him right, that he realizes what he's been doing to her. Is it too late to save this could be relationship?

I would like a happy ending but plenty of angst. Feel free to say no if you don't want to. 💙🖤💚💜

Hiiiiiiiiii!!!! Sorry this took 500 years for me to get to!!!! But I'm here now and let's set this angstfest on its way!!!! Hehehe. Thank you so much for sending this to me!! I hope you enjoy!! 💚💚💚💚

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The Angel and the Fool

Pairing: Avenger Loki x female reader

Warnings: teasing, bullying, crying, depression, self deprecating thoughts, self esteem issues, body insecurities, loki being an idiot, nat being a good friend.

Summary: you and Loki had been friends for awhile, but recently his behavior towards you changed dramatically....

A/n: aaahhhh!!! This absolutely got away from me!! Lol sooooo it's a super long read, not sure how many words lol and a very very special Thank you to @mochie85 for all of your support and being my beta with this and and all your amazing thoughts!!!! Thank you!!!!! 💚💚💚 aaaand a new pic!!! 😁💚

You stood at the kitchen counter waiting for the world's slowest coffee machine to finish "all that money and stark can't even get a fast machine." You sighed leaning your elbow on the counter when you heard voices coming from the hallway "I told you brother, I was the one who broke up with her" Thor's voice boomed through the room like the thunder he was known for "whatever you say thor." Loki's smooth voice followed after. Looking up seeing the bane of your existence patting his brother on the shoulder as they walked into the kitchen. "Ah lady y/n, how are you?" Thor asked smiling as he reached into the cupboard grabbing a box of his pop tarts "I'm fine, how are you?" You asked as the coffee machine finally beeped signaling it was done.

"I am quite well thank you, we are headed to the training room." He said setting the box down next to you when you finally took stock of what they were wearing. Thor in his red shirt and black joggers when your eyes met Loki's, the smile on his face sending a shiver through you as your eyes traveled down seeing his tight black tank hugging every muscle he had. Biting you lip seeing his exposed arms, tracing the veins down to his long yet delicate fingers "your staring again darling." He purred snapping you out of your trance "sorry." You whispered grabbing the sugar bowl you began sweetening your coffee "I would be careful with that if I were you." Loki said making you look up at him "why is that?" You asked holding the spoon over your cup. "Well its just you mortals and sugar, i have heard it adds to the waistline does it not?" He asked smiling as his eyes traveled down your body.

"What..." you started when he raised his hand "I know it is not your fault, your weak mortal form cannot handle what we can." He said smiling again flexing his large pectoral muscles. Dropping the spoon you looked down at yourself, you knew you had put on a few pounds...being Pepper's assistant left Iittle time to make home cooked meals so a lot of your food was take out or on the run. You adjusted your belt feeling your eyes burn "you can always join us in the gym, i would be happy to...assist you." loki purred again. Looking up seeing he was still focused on your body "t..thanks but I..." you trailed off putting your cup in the sink

"I need to go, maybe I'll see you guys later." You said quickly leaving the room before he could say anything else. You made it to your office, flopping in your chair with a huff. "Does he think im fat?" You asked yourself straightening your back you looked down at your soft middle, poking it with your finger sighing. "Maybe a diet wouldn't be a bad idea." You said to yourself turning on your computer trying to get to work but Loki's words kept echoing in your head. You leaned back in your chair feeling a tear stream down your cheek. You had admittedly had a crush on the god practically since you were hired, and through your work with them you had grown closer to him, you could say you were friends. But the last few weeks he's seemed to go out of his way to point out every imperfection you had. You sighed closing your eyes deciding to go shopping after work to buy new clothes and a variety of green leafy things.

A few days later you once again stood in the kitchen placing various fruits and vegetables in a blender. Nat had told you about a smoothie that could help you lose weight when you saw Loki walking into the kitchen looking like be just rolled out of bed. His hair was a disheveled mess, the muscles of his bare chest flexing as he ran a hand through it "Hello little mortal, what are you up to now?" He asked walking to the fridge grabbing two bottles of water making your heart plummet "nothing." You said quietly continuing your work. "Mmm, and the change of wardrobe?" He asked gently tugging on the end of your overly large blouse "stop it." You snapped swatting his hand away hearing him laugh. "Did we wake up in a mood darling?" He asked taking a seat on the stool in front of you. "Dont you have a guest to get back to?" You sneered pointing at his second water bottle "She will be fine, this is much more entertaining." He smiled grabbing a strawberry from your pile taking a bite as he stared into your eyes.

You felt your heart sink at the confirmation, the familiar burning in your eyes returning "I'm not here to entertain you Loki." You growled when his bright emerald eyes met yours "but you do it oh so well." He purred biting into another strawberry. You sighed, closing your eyes fighting back the tears that were threatening to expose you when you heard a pair of heels clicking against the tile floor "there you are, you just left me alone." A woman's voice sounded through the room making your eyes shoot open, a tall thin redhead sauntered up to the counter placing a perfectly manicured hand on Loki's bicep "apologies, I became distracted." He said not taking his eyes off of you. "Oh, is she making us smoothies?" The woman asked excitedly as she took the seat next to him. "I do not know, are you y/n?" He asked, a smirk spreading across his face as you placed the last of the ingredients in the blender

"well she's your assistant isn't she? Why else would she be here with you?" The woman laughed as you turned on the blender hoping to drown her out when you saw the lid of the blender begin to glow "what the..." you were cut off as the lid flew off and the entire contents of the blender shot out and all over your shirt, gasping as the cold liquid seeped through to your skin "oh dear...it seems you will need to change that hideous shirt." Loki's voice entered your consciousness as your eyes shot to his seeing him laughing with his "date". you grabbed a towel trying to get as much of the green concoction off you as you could, tears welling in your eyes "green really is your color darling" Loki purred making you sigh.

You threw the towel in the sink seeing the redhead pressed against his arm laughing when you looked at him, his eyes roaming your now drenched shirt "i...I need to go." You said quickly heading towards the hall when Nat walked in "y/n, what happened?" She asked seeing your ruined shirt "nothing, just..." you said looking over your shoulder seeing loki had turned still watching you "just a blender mishap, I'm fine." You said stepping around her when she grabbed your arm "y/n, are you ok?" She asked, her eyes boring into you. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" You asked as nat glanced back into the kitchen seeing loki and the redhead "y/n.." She started when you pulled your arm free "I said im fine nat, i...I have to go pepper is waiting." You said quickly turning to the elevator before she could say anything else.

You stepped in pushing the button, as the doors closed you finally allowed the tears to fall. Any inkling of a hope you had for you and Loki had just been crushed under the reality of your life you would never be good enough. Your mind went back to the woman he was with, she could have been a model, an actress. You had to admit she was beautiful when your mind went back over the last few weeks with Loki, his constant comments about your weight, your clothes, the time you tried to add a little makeup to your routine hoping he would notice, but his reaction crushed you "aren't clowns supposed to be in the circus?" He had asked shaking his head. Every off handed comment, every slight against your appearance drudging memories long buried..."if you lost a few pounds maybe a guy would be interested"..."is face transplant surgery a thing? Because you need one."..."what guy in their right mind would go out with you." You made it to your office, thankful you kept an extra shirt in your desk for just in case situations you quickly changed, tossing the soiled shirt into your bag as you flopped down into your chair. "I thought we were atleast friends." You said to yourself wiping the tears from your cheeks when you heard a knock on your door

"Hey y/n, we have a meeting with the team, we gotta go." Pepper said smiling "is...is Loki going to be there?" You asked grabbing your pen and a pad of paper "yeah, it's an all hands meeting about the new protocols for missions." She said "umm, I'm really not feeling very well...can I skip this one?" You asked as she stepped in closing the door "what's wrong y/n?" She asked sitting across from you "nothing, I'm fine." You said looking down at your desk "I Just don't feel well, that's all." You said looking back up seeing her eyeing you "well ok, why don't you take the rest of the day off and I'll see you in the morning." She said standing back up. "Thank you Pepper, I really appreciate it." You said quickly gathering your things "you know you can talk to me right, if you need to?" She asked opening your door "yes, thank you but I'm fine." You said seeing her nod "ok, I'll see you tomorrow." She said walking out closing the door behind her.

You grabbed your bag, turning your lights off you locked the door to your office before heading downstairs hoping you could slip out undetected. You made it to the common room when a familiar voice sounded behind you "where are you off to little mortal? We have a meeting" Loki asked making you freeze "i...I'm not feeling well so I'm going home." You said not turning around "well do try to eat some vegetables, not that chocolate you like so much." He said hearing him take a step closer to you "you know what they say, it's goes straight to your thighs." He purred next to your ear making you look down "I have to go Loki." You said quickly walking to the nearest exit when you heard Thor "come brother, everyone is waiting." You turned to see Loki still looking at you as Thor patted his shoulder. Putting your head down you pushed the door open and headed for the car park. Throwing everything in the back you climbed in turning the key you looked down at yourself, sighing you put your car into gear and headed home, and away from Loki.

Loki's pov-

Loki quickly closed the door to his room and headed for the kitchen. Looking at his watch, smiling at the memory of when you gave it to him "there, now you won't be late anymore." You had said as you handed him the green velvet box, a large smile spread across your beautiful face as he opened it seeing the green iridescent face and gold hands ticking away, the black leather strap surrounding a tiny green pillow. He knew right then that his feelings for you went beyond comrodery, surpassing friendship into....something else, something he hadn't ever felt before. He quickened his pace knowing right now you would he in the kitchen messing with that odd machine that makes your coffee every morning. It had been two weeks since the incident with the smoothie and his conscience had been eating at him ever since.

He wanted more, he longed to hold you in his arms and never let you go but you always kept him at arms length, shying away when he attempted his usual method of flirting, but he couldn't resist the pull you had on him so he kept at it...kept pushing. But he knew that day in the kitchen he had gone too far, as much as he loved seeing you flustered and the things your drenched shirt did to him as it clung to your breasts he also saw the sadness in your eyes, the tears threatening to spill over as you stormed towards the hall. He was about to go after when he saw you talking to the widow, who shot him a glare that sent ice up his spine before you were gone again. He had hoped to catch you in the meeting, pull you aside and finally confess but you had fallen ill, leaving again before he had a chance.

Glancing at his watch again he began to jog down the hall, he had tried to catch you everyday since but you always evaded him, never staying in the kitchen too long and he wasn't allowed on the upper floors where your office was, some nonsense about his probation and secured areas when he made it to the kitchen, sighing seeing you standing there with Thor. He furrowed his eyebrows taking in your appearance, your clothes were baggier on your small frame then normal, your long beautiful hair that framed your face so perfectly was pulled back into a messy bun, dark circles encompassed your once bright eyes that now seemed distant, the sparkle that was there now dimmed. "This truly is an odd contraption." Thor's voice pulled him from his trance as he saw you smile but it didn't reach your eyes.

He took a small step in when your eyes shot up to his, your body going rigid as you stared at him "ah brother, lady y/n was showing me how she makes coffee." Thor said taking a sip from his cup "I must say it is quite good, you should try some." He said walking around to the other side of the island sitting on a stool "i...I have to go, you can show him Thor." You said quickly grabbing your cup you began walking to the elevator "y/n, may I..." he was silenced as you turned, the look in your eyes sending a shiver through him "I can't talk Loki, i...I have to get to work." You said, all emotion gone from your voice "but I...I just wanted to..." loki trailed off looking to his feet "I am sorry for the day in the kitchen, with the blender." He said fidgeting with his fingers "it's fine, don't worry about it." You said, the same coldness in your tone as he looked up at you "it's not the first time, and it won't be the last." You said taking a step back towards the elevator "but y/n..." he started when you held your hand up "I need to go." You said quickly turning and before he could say anything else you were gone.

He returned to the kitchen to see Thor staring at him "what was all that about?" He asked sipping his coffee "I need to speak with her but she had to go." Loki said setting the kettle on the stove. "Mm, well there is the party stark is throwing tonight, I'm sure the lady will be there, she goes to all of them." Thor said matter of factly "Thor, I never thought I would say this but you are a genuis." Loki said turning the stove off heading towards his room. The party, how could he forget the party! He thought as he walked in heading to his closet he pulled his black suit out, laying it on the bed going to his dresser he pulled out his black silk shirt and vest laying them next to his suit. "I will ask her to dance with me and then tell her." Loki said to himself grabbing a towel heading into the bathroom "tonight y/n, you will finally be mine." He said, smiling to himself as he turned the water on and began to prepare for tonight.

Straightening his suit he walked into the large overcrowded room. The music booming through the speakers made his head throb as he skirted his way through the throngs of people, looking around hoping to catch a glimpse of you as he made it to the bar. He looked up and down but saw no sign of you at all "what'll you have?" The bartender asked snapping him back "oh, um whiskey please." Loki said looking back out to the large crowd "maybe she isn't here yet?" He said to himself as the bartender set a glass of amber liquid in front of him. "Ah Loki, I wasn't sure you would be here." He heard next to him, turning his head to see none other then the widow taking a seat on one of the stools "yes well, I am here looking for someone." He said glancing back out "oh I'm sure you have no shortage of "dates." She airquoted making him raise an eyebrow at her. "What does that mean?" He asked leaning on the bar.

"Nothing, just rumors of your conquests have definitely traveled through the tower." She laughed making him sigh "Hmm yes, I have heard." He said looking out to the crowd again "do you think y/n is running late?" He asked making her raise her eyebrow this time "why so interested?" She asked crossing her arms "no reason, I was only curious." He shrugged sipping his drink "Mm, if i didnt know better i would say you were more then curious." Nat said as she turned ordering her drink "and what pray tell makes you think that?" He asked seeing her smile "I am going to tell you something I probably shouldn't, but needs to be said." Nat said grabbing her drink

"I know you and y/n are friends, well were until as of recently." She said sipping her drink "but I know a person in love when I see them, reading people is what I do." She said seeing Loki's eyes widen "see, what you need to try to understand about our y/n is she has a very large heart, she cares alot." Nat continued seeing loki nod "but shes been through alot, people have not treated her with the same kindness she gives. And what you said to her....and before you ask yes i know about all of it." She said quickly before he could interupt "honestly, it devastated her. The last two weeks she hasnt been herself, she wont talk to anyone, she refuses to go to meetings." She sighed shaking her head "all im saying is, if you dont feel the same about her just tell her, but stop messing with her, she doesn't deserve it." Nat snapped standing from her stool. "Have a nice evening Loki." She said making her way back into the crowd.

Loki mulled her words over in his head what have i done? He thought as he downed his drink and began heading to the exit when the same redheaded woman from that day found him "Hey handsome, care for a dance?" She purred rubbing his arm "no thank you, I must be going." He said walking around her "I thought maybe we could have another sleep over, get to know eachother better." She said grabbing his bicep "apologies but I'm afraid the answer is still no, I...I have met someone." He said seeing her nod "lucky girl." She smiled removing her hand "I'll see you around." She smiled walking back into the crowd as Loki let out the breath he was holding. Now he just had to find a way to get to you and talk to you, tell you everything once and for all and he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

He continued walking through the crowd when he heard a familiar laugh, looking up seeing Thor on the balcony of the vip section, rolling his eyes seeing him swinging his precious hammer around when his eyes landed on you. "Y/n..." he sighed taking you in. Your hair was gently curled cascading down to your shoulders, the floor length powder blue dress hugged your beautiful body perfectly, the long slit landing at the middle of your thigh made his heart race as you shifted, exposing your supple skin. His hands clenching into fists thinking about how badly he wanted to run his hands up and down those beautiful legs as they were wrapped around him, squeezing him as he gave you everything he had...worshipping you exaclty how you deserved.

Shaking his head he adjusted his slacks that had suddenly become very tight as he pulled his phone out, dialing the number he wanted he looked up watching Thor set his hammer down before pulling out his own device "ah brother, where are you?" Thor asked looking around the room "Thor, may I have a word?" Loki asked as their eyes met "meet me at the bar." Loki said hanging up quickly heading back to the bar when a large hand landed on his shoulder "loki, is everything alright?" Thor asked leaning on the bar. "Brother, I have a favor to ask." Loki said looking back to the balcony, Thor following his gaze nodding "tell me what you need." Thor said seeing Loki smile.

You stood off to the side, wondering how you let nat talk you into coming tonight. You pulled at the dress that she had loaned you. It was too tight, the neckline definately too low as it traveled down between your breasts, the only thing holding it in place was the thin strip of material traveling behind your neck, and the slit was definitely too high. You felt exposed as you shifted on your feet trying to hold your breath. You watched Thor bow before walking down towards the bar. Looking around you bit your lip, the only reason you had agreed to come was because you knew Loki wouldn't be up here. "The vip section." You laughed to yourself seeing nat had rejoined wanda, Steve was laughing with bucky, the other agents you had seen on your floor mingling...they deserved to be here, they were heroes... they were beautiful and here you were, the ugly duckling among the swans. You looked down sucking in your stomach trying not to stretch the dress when a voice next to you made you jump.

"Well hello gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?" You turned your head seeing Matt, the agent who had the office next to yours smiling at you. "Oh...I have one, but thank you." You whispered watching his eyes travel down your body. "Hmm, well we could get out of here, I don't live too far." He winked smiling "um, no...thank you though." You offered a smile sipping your drink. "Women don't usually turn down a night with me, you sure you won't reconsider?" He asked again stepping into your space "t..thank you for the offer but yes I'm sure." You said taking a step back. Yes he was attractive, very much so but you barely knew him and there was no way you were gonna let him see you naked. You cleared your throat looking back out into the crowd when you heard him laugh "Ya know you clean up pretty nice, I was honestly surprised to see you had brushed your hair." He laughed sipping his drink. "I...um thanks?" You said looking down.

"you actually look kind of decent." He laughed again eyeing you. "Mm...it's like those movies where the ugly girl puts on a dress and makeup and suddenly she isn't AS ugly....that's what you remind me of." He said. You felt the familiar burning in your eyes, closing them as he went on "but you know what they say, put lipstick on a pig and it's still a pig." He laughed louder when a loud thump made your eyes shoot open, looking over seeing Matt pinned against the wall, Thor holding him by the throat "you will not to speak to her that way." Thor said sternly leaning down coming face to face with him "apologize...now." Thor growled as Matt's eyes widened. "I...I'm s...sorry." he choked out, his eyes not leaving the massive blonde "Thor...stop." you said grabbing his arm but there was no way you could make him budge when his eyes met yours, the anger that was there softening as he looked back at Matt

"you will never speak to her again, am I understood?" Thor said growled into Matt's face as he nodded "go, before I change my mind." Thor said tossing him to the floor watching him scurry away. "Thor?" You whispered when he turned back to you. "Are you alright my lady?" He asked stepping closer "yes, i...im ok. Thank you but you didn't have to do that." You said looking down. "He had no right to say those....horrible things to you y/n." He said as you shook your head "no he's...he was right, I don't belong here." You breathed looking up seeing Thor's eyes wide "what ever would make you think that?" He asked crossing his arms "don't play dumb Thor, you know as well as everyone else." You sighed looking out to everyone having fun

"they're strong, beautiful, they could take anyone in the room home with them." You said fidgeting with your glass "i...I'm not any of those things." You said feeling a tear slide down your cheek "i never will be, because no matter what I do I always be me...fat, ugly me." You sighed setting your drink down "I think im gonna head home for the night." You said looking to the floor as you walked around him "y/n, wait." He said grabbing your wrist "do you truly see yourself as such?" He asked making you laugh "it's what I've always been told. Even your brother has made it abundantly clear that I am...how did he put it...oh yes a clown that needed to join the circus." You said feeling a lump form in your throat "and you know the pathetic thing?" You asked finally looking up into his eyes "i...I love him...and I will never be good enough for him." You huffed a laugh remembering the day in the kitchen.

"Y/n, my brother is an idiot...a fool." Thor said taking a step closer to you. "You have to understand, when we were younger...on Asgard he had no shortage of attention, men and women would happily bend to his will, do anything he asked of them to be his...to be in his favor." Thor said looking down "and those who didn't he would break them down, make them feel less then to get what he wanted...regardless of how selfish it was." Thor continued, his hand sliding down to yours "and here...on Midgard it has been much the same, I was never lacking attention and i...I let it go to me head." Thor said looking up into your eyes "i?...what do you mean i?" You asked furrowing your eyebrows watching Thor shake his head "are you feeling ok Thor? Do you need to sit down?" You asked squeezing his hand "no! I'm not...i have wronged you, and how i treated you...." he snapped, trailing off looking around.

"Come with me." He said pulling you along behind him. Running to keep up with his long strides "Thor, where are we going?" You asked as he pulled you into a secluded corner away from everyone "if I didn't know better I'd think you were going to kill me." You laughed as he pressed your back against the wall "umm...Thor?" You stuttered when you saw him close his eyes, a green light washing over him when suddenly Loki was in his place "Loki!? What..." you were cut off by his hand gently covering your mouth "shh...I cannot be up here." He said lifting a finger to his lips. "I needed to speak with you and this was the only way." He whispered lowering his hand from your mouth

"what...why?" You whispered back as he placed his hands on your shoulders "y/n, is that truly where your feelings lie?" He asked, his hands slowly sliding down your bare arms "i...you...i know..." you trailed off, closing your eyes remembering what you just confessed to "thor" "Loki i..." He cut you off again by his finger pressed to your lips, his deep green eyes boring so deep into yours you were afraid they would consume you. You lifted your hand gently grabbing his wrist moving his hand "yes Loki...it was the truth." You whispered seeing tears well in his eyes. "I know you don't feel the same, I'm sorry I ruined our friendship its just...."

you were cut off again, all coherent thought leaving you as his lips pressing to yours, the hand you were holding reaching up to cup your cheek as the other slid around your side to your back pulling you closer to him. Gasping feeling his fingers touch the bare skin of your back when you felt his tongue slip between your parted lips, moaning into his mouth tasting the whiskey on lips as you returned the kiss, tilting your head as his hand slid to your hair holding you to him. The kiss was everything you had ever imagined and more. It was dominating and all consuming, and you never wanted it to end. Wrapping your arm around his middle you pressed yourself as close to him as you could, your nails digging into the back of his suit jacket when he pulled back slightly, nibbling your bottom lip as he pressed his forehead to yours, your breath mixing together as you tried to regain your composure.

"I...I owe you an apology y/n." He panted tightening his grip around your waist "I owe you so much more then that." He said lifting his head looking into your eyes "i...I don't understand Loki." You said searching his eyes for an answer. "Y/n, my sweet, beautiful little mortal i..." He trailed off looking down "I have never been the best at expressing my emotions, and in truth as a prince of Asgard i...i never took into account others feelings, i was selfish and took what i wanted however i wanted" He said looking back up at you "I know it is no excuse for how I have treated you, but after hearing that pathetic boy say those things to you." He growled "I see what I have done to you, how I've made you feel and I....I am ashamed of myself for everything I put you through." He said, a tear streaming down his cheek as he looked down again.

"The truth y/n is...that I love you, I have loved you for so long." He whispered "and I was afraid you would never feel the same for the would be invader of your realm, but I simply couldn't get enough of you...of your bright smile, your kindess, of your attentions, i craved it...so in my selfishness I teased and mocked, as I had done so many times before hoping to get even the slightest reaction...a smile, a snide remark...but I watched you slowly pull away from me, hiding yourself away in your office, the spark inside you slowly dying and i...y/n I can never apologize enough for my behavior." He said looking up, your heart breaking seeing the tears steaming down his cheeks. "D...do you think you could ever forgive me?" He asked, his voice shaking as his lip quivered. You lifted your hands, cupping his cheeks seeing his eyes close "Loki.." you whispered, your thumbs wiping the tears from his cheeks as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Please y/n, let me take you out...allow me to treat you as you deserve...to worship you as the goddess that you are." He whispered wrapping his fingers around your wrists. You smiled looking deeply into his eyes "all you had to do was ask." You said seeing him return the smile "oh my perfect, sweet y/n." He sighed gently placing a kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you pulling you to his chest, his large hand holding the back of your head as he rocked you back and forth. "I'm sorry...so so sorry." He whispered into your hair. "It's ok Loki, I forgive you." You said into his chest, squeezing his middle tightly. "What did I do to deserve you?" He asked kissing the top of your head.

"You made a mistake, but you learned from it." You said pulling back to look at him "and you apologized...who am I to hold a grudge?" You asked seeing him smile "you are truly an angel sent from the heavens." He said cupping your cheek "come, allow me to take you to dinner, where we can talk more privately." He said stepping back "ok, let me get my coat." You said as he wrapped his arm around your waist you walked through the room towards the exit, glancing over seeing nat you waved as she winked lifting her glass when you caught Loki mouthing something to her. "What did you say?" You asked as he smiled down at you "oh, I was thanking her." He said squeezing you tighter "for pointing out how much of an idiot I had been." He said grabbing the door holding it open for you "after you my angel." He said, making you blush as you walked past him, feeling his fingers twine with yours you squeezed, smiling to yourself and for the first time in a long time you had hope.....

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

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I’m so glad you liked the soulmate idea! maybe prompt 16? maybe she gets injured and has to tear off some of her outfit when she gets a little self conscious cause of the cameras and realizing the man everyone wants is now publicly her soulmate? could you imagine that for yourself omfg </3 read that prompt and saw his smirk vividly in my head and I couldn’t get it out lol :) katniss would be slapping him every two seconds and trying to keep him on track lollllll :D

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𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Soulmate! Finnick Odair x Soulmate! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff, maybe slight angst?

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - If there was one thing that the Capitol wasn’t, it was kind. So when they input the law where soulmates cannot be put into the same game, you and Finnick have to come clean about your relationship in the Quarter Quell - even if it’s too late.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - sorry anon, I had to change it up just a bit! || age difference (3 years) || soulmate AU with the same mark || reader is more naive & weak (physically) || Finnick was your mentor || you don’t think you deserve Finnick for a while, he fixes that || insecure reader || virgin reader || you wanted to keep your soulmate-ship a secret (fails miserably) || oral || 69 || slight penetration || cum eating || fingering || hickeys || creampies || cumslut & pussy drunk terms used

When you were chosen for the games, you thought your fate was sealed. You were going to be brutally murdered, and you would never see the light of day ever again until Finnick became your mentor.

“Look…” he said, inhaling as you both stood in front of the tube that would take you up to the arena. “I know, I know you’re not that strong,” he whispers, thumb slowly stroking your cheek. “But you fucking run, okay? You run, you hide, you just… you need to come out of there alive, okay?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can, Fin, I just-”

“Y/N,” he says firmly, holding your shoulders. “Please. Please come out. For me.”

You inhale deeply as the Peacekeeper yells out ‘five more minutes’, Finnick leaning down to press a kiss to your head. “Promise me you’ll try.”

Finnick was one of the most perfect people you could’ve ever asked for, so as soon as you saw that mark on his lower abdomen right on his hip bone that matched yours, you promised yourself you’d never let him see it. Not when you were going to die in the arena and he would lose his soulmate, someone he didn’t deserve.

Finnick deserved the world, and in your mind, that wasn’t you.

He was always telling you about people who had pretended to be his soulmate, getting tattoos of his mark just to try and get with him, though they always missed the small dot on the lower left side, the same one you had. He then always added that he never wanted to meet his soulmate, saying things like he didn’t want to burden them with what he’s been through or he didn’t think it’d work out.

You knew he would never burden his soulmate, especially you, but you didn’t want to start anything when you would most likely die.

He always said how he had this connection to you that he couldn’t explain, his eyes always filled with so much love it made you want to cry. It would’ve been a horrible decision to tell him really, but everything he did made you want to say it.

“One minute!”

“Finnick, I just-”

“I'm going to watch every second, darling,” he whispered, inhaling deeply. “And I’m going to be with you every moment.”

You nodded, hands shakily squeezing his wrists that cupped your face before starting to step back. You go around him to step onto the platform, slowly stepping inside as Finnick quickly runs onto the platform, pressing his hand to the glass. He inhaled, nodding. “Y-Y/N, I love-”

With that, almost like it was a farewell, your capsule shot up. You emerged in a large field, wheat around you with the center being the classic cornucopia. The numbers started blaring, signaling the beginning of your inevitable demise.

Even then though, you promised Finnick you would try, so you had to. You would run and hide and swim and do everything you could to survive like you promised him, even though you didn’t expect it to gain your victory.

After winning, you couldn’t have taken more showers. Though not physically covered in blood, you felt disgusting, as though all of those deaths were on your hands. You finally stopped when you felt your nails burning, skin almost raw from how much you rubbed it in an attempt to get off the invisible blood, quickly turning around to turn off the water and step out.

You pat your skin down, too scared to irritate it more before putting on some tiny shorts. You really needed to feel the cold instead of warmth like you did all throughout the games and a thin camisole that didn’t hide your soulmate mark. You looked at it in the mirror, the reddish-brown hue making you hum - it was nice to just look at it for a minute instead of hiding it.

It doesn’t take you long to step out, stretching before you notice Finnick sitting on your bed looking starstrucked. “Finnick!”

“Y/N, what the hell is that?”

At first you didn’t know what he was talking about, looking down at the wide gash you had on your forearm. “Oh, the District 1 Career was trying to get a hit in before-”

He stood up abruptly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into his chest, his hand quickly finding its place at your hip. “Is that real?”

You look down, quickly covering the mark. “Y-You… you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You sounded stupid, head hazy as he pressed his finger firmly against it and rubs, gasping when it doesn’t fade or get irritated at his touch. “Did you- why would you keep this from me?”

“Because I thought I was going to die, Finnick,” you inhaled deeply. “I never thought I would see you again. I didn’t want to give you hope-”

“So instead you chose to lie to me and keep the fact that you’re my soulmate and that we could’ve been building a life together? A soulmate bond? How long have you known?” He whispered, leaning down as you looked away.

“Since we started training together.”

He inhaled sharply, letting out a soft whimper as he looked away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought I was going to die,” you explained, holding back tears. “I thought I was going to die and that you were going to be left with hope and I just-” a strangled sob left your mouth as he pulled you into a hug, his lips pressing to your forehead.

“You don’t worry about anything, darling. I promise, I swear,” he pulled away to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I will never let anything happen to you ever again.”

It had been quiet until you both were pulled into the Third Quarter Quell. You volunteered for Mags much to Finnick’s dismay, especially when you both had gotten to the parade.

“It’s too on show, Finnick,” you whisper, trying to lift up your skirt before he swats at your hand. “Finnick!”

“Who cares anymore, darling?” He whispers, pulling you closer. “Why should we hide it, hm? Let everyone know that they should be jealous. I have the most beautiful woman in the world by my side.”

You blushed madly as he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “If they find out, they won’t pull me from the games because they renounced the law,” you whisper, inhaling shakily. “We’re going to get out of there, right? Together?”

He nodded, pushing back your hair. “I swear to you, Y/N, I promise.” He inhaled deeply as the fanfare started, leaning down to press a kiss to your head. “I’ll be right by your side, my love.”

You looked up, nodding as he pushed back your hair, a loud noise making you both look to the side. There Katniss stood, awkward and stick-like as you try to pull away from Finnick on instinct but he just held you tighter. He pulled you away, quickly helping you into the carriage before getting on himself.

“They’re going to have a field day with this,” you say, pulling your skirt a bit lower to expose the mark on your hip. “Might as well give them a show, right?”

He smiled, pulling down his waistband to show off the same mark. “Might as well, darling.”

The news came out sooner than you expected, Finnick pulling you closer to his chest as you sat on his cock. It was peaceful, watching the news a few hours before being dragged into the games. The public was raving about the fact you both were soulmates, and Finnick’s cock that was balls deep inside of you still spurting cum into you as he slowly rolled his hips.

“Want to go again,” he mumbled, his words not a question but a statement. You giggled as he stared at you, eyes hazy and drunk on your cunt. “Please? Can we go again?”

You giggle, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “You just want to fuck because we’re not going to be able to in the games, don’t you?”

He hummed. “Who says we can’t fuck in the games?”

You paused, letting out a soft hum as you started to roll your hips into his. “You’ll just fuck me anywhere, won’t you? Too fucking pussy drunk to think about anything else?”

It was a dangerous game, playing with a more dominant Finnick like this, especially because you were definitely the more submissive person in this relationship. Finnick always felt so fucking good when you acted like this, a sub trying to get more dominant on their dom and tease him, especially when you were on top.

He was going to feed your mind just a bit before he fucked you so hard you wouldn’t remember your name.

After processing your words, he nods as he kisses against your shoulder down to the swell of your tits, kissing and licking at your nipple. “Yes, yes darling. I want to fuck you so bad, please, please. I need to feel that pussy clench around me, need to feel your cunt milk my cock baby.”

He watched your eyes roll back, a smirk finding its way to his lips as he teased your nipple with his teeth. He sucks, groaning as you tug on his hair, pulling him closer as his hands hold your waist, forcing you to roll your hips into his and taking pleasure in the whines falling from your lips. “F-Fin, need you to fuck me.”

He pulled away, staring at your hard nipples and swollen areola. He laughs, looking up at you between your tits, eyes glossed over with lust as he pressed his lips to the center of your chest and sucked against your skin. You whined loudly as he leaves bright hickeys ranging from bright pink to dark purple all along your skin; anywhere from your collarbone to your chest to your sides, lifting you off of him to watch your face scrunch in discomfort when his length is pulled out of you.

“No, Finnick, don’t do that!”

It made him laugh; as pussy drunk as he was, you were cock obsessed more than you’d ever admit.

“What? Why not? I need to make room for more of the cum that I’m going to fill you up with.”

He laid you on your bed, pushing his head between your thighs to kiss against your stretched cunt, already pushing his tongue into your pussy to taste the mixed cum flooding into his mouth. He groaned loudly, his hips bucking into the mattress that did little to nothing to relieve him of the need to be inside of you.

He pulled away, face covered in sheen from your lewd juices, the whine that left your lips making him laugh just a bit. He laid back on the bed, humming. “Come here, darling. Want your pussy on my face.”

You nodded, knowing better than to argue with him when he got like this, quickly moving to hover over his mouth. “F-Fin, are you sure, I don’t know if I can-”

“Darling, if you don’t shut up and sit on my face, I won’t fuck you again tonight.” His hand slapping against your ass proved his point even more, a yelp leaving your mouth as you let your body relax and his mouth suck on your leaking cunt. Your eyes rolled back as he groaned, one hand holding the hip with your soulmate mark, his hand tight as the other pushed up your back while pushing you down. The new angle makes you whine loudly, gasping as his cock slaps against your cheek, his leaking tip smearing cum against your skin.

His cock was so pretty in front of you, thick and long, his tip flushed a bright red as cum leaking out, harder than you had ever seen as his hands squeeze at the plushness of your ass. His moans against your cunt made you whine, pulling his cock into your mouth just like he wanted you to.

Your eyes rolled back as he groaned loudly, fingers slipping into your pussy to scrape his cum from your walls, pulling out everything he could to swallow into his mouth. You whine loudly when his fingers get a little rough, pain blooming making his fingers pull away and a quick apology comes from his mouth. He smiled as he softly rubbed against that one area, kissing softly making you whine as you bobbed your head on his cock.

“Better?”

You nodded around his length, jaw slack as you bobbed your head over his cock, groaning as you pulled away. His cock bounced, mixed saliva and cum dripping down his shaft as you whined loudly. “Y-Yes, Fin, just like that!”

He smirks, pushing a finger back into you as he continues to rub that one spot you loved, curling and thrusting his finger inside of you as you pull his cock back into your mouth. You groaned loudly around his length, bobbing your head as fast as you could before pushing your head down and pulling his entire length down your throat.

Your eyes watered as you gagged, rolling back into your head as his hips thrust up into you, one of his hands forcing your head to stay low. You could only groan around his length as he used your mouth like a cock sleeve, thrusting harder and harder into you as his fingers of his other hand curled inside of you, thumb rubbing against your clit.

You pulled your hair out of your face, holding his thighs for some sort of grounding agent as he rammed his cock into your throat, your nose settled against his balls. He was groaning into your cunt, his tongue flicking and pushing into you as wet squelching fills the room, your throat relaxing as he does one last throat to cum down your throat.

He groaned loudly into your cunt, pushing his fingers into you just to hit that one spot that made you come undone around his digits. You gasped as you pulled away, letting out soft coughs as you swallowed, licking around his length before he pulled you off his face.

It makes you yelp as he quickly laid on your body, giggling as you hugged him tightly and pressed kisses to his hair. He mumbled out a soft ‘I love you’ as he pulled away, quickly gaining the same response from you before cleaning you up and pulling you into his chest. “I’m going to get you out of there alive, Y/N.”

You inhale deeply, pressing your face into his neck. “I know you will, Fin.”

It wasn’t until later in the games, where you stood by the tree did you actually doubt his words. A District 10 tribute had come way too close to you, slashing your side with her blade making you strip off half of your suit that Finnick couldn’t keep his eyes off of.

“What? Don’t stop on my account, I’m enjoying the show.” He was definitely enjoying the show, your soulmate mark on display and half of your skin that was covered in hickeys being shown off as well.

You rolled your eyes playfully, Katniss shoving him every few minutes to get him to focus on what they were doing as you attempted to find something to cover yourself. “Y/N, darling, what are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to cover myself up,” you explain quickly, sighing. “I just… feel exposed.”

He comes over, wrapping his arms around you to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m right here, darling. Always. You don’t have to feel exposed, ever.”

You smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. “I know, Fin. Thank you.”

He would stick by your side until Katniss blows out the top of the arena, cradling you under his body and whispering soft reassurances when you’re both lifted up into District 13s aircraft, and mending your side with the medical supplies.

“I promised I would get you out,” he whispers, smiling. “And I promise I’ll keep you safe, forever.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@yoongiwife23]

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪

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nomazee · 2 months

Note

hiii! congrats on 1k! may i pls have alma from gokurakugai w friends, amusement park n 22:22?

this was so cute i loved this prompt. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! hope u enjoy :*

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

Alma's hand is warm, almost too warm against yours. His fingers are intertwined with yours, scratchy and calloused. The summer heat has gotten to the both of you, and you hope that the sweat collecting in your palm doesn't bother him as he drags you around the park.

It's late, and the sun went down a few hours ago, but the heat of it still lingers on your skin. Your feet are aching and you think if you walk around for any longer, your legs will crumple underneath you like paper. But Alma's so—warm, and kind, and he looks back at you with this stupid beaming smile as he leads you around all the corny games and rides. Your stomach is still swirling from the last rollercoaster you went on, and your pockets are very light from the sheer volume of money you’ve lost to ball-toss games.

"There's— oh! They're selling takoyaki over there," he points out, attention moving rapidly from you to the food stands to the crowds of people around you. "You know, we tried making takoyaki ourselves once, at the agency with everyone, and it was pretty good! I wish you were there for that."

Wish. He wishes you were there. There's a stirring in your chest at the thought of being wanted by a friend.

Unfortunately, the sight of the long, winding line in front of the takoyaki stand mixed with the darkening sky reminds you that you do have responsibilities. Like the math homework due tomorrow that you've neglected for the whole week, and the dreadful bus that you have to catch at seven tomorrow in order to even make it to school on time.

"Alma," you call for him, and he whips his head back to look at you. His smile falters. Your expression must give you away, then—the guilt, the frustration, the ache.

"I have school tomorrow," you explain with nothing short of dismay in your voice, "It's— it's pretty late right now. I have to go. I'm so sorry, it was really fun, seriously—"

"Hey!" he cuts in, already grinning again and pulling you close to him with the hand still wrapped in yours. "It’s seriously fine! I did keep you out pretty late, huh. I didn't even notice."

And he looks around—at the people still walking and wandering and having fun, and your heart sinks. You're a buzzkill, and you know that, but you're already failing a class and you can't risk missing any more days of school. Alma—you don't think he really gets it, and that makes it worse. In the grand scheme of things, you don't know too much about Alma—how he works—but you know that he doesn't go to school the way that you do. Every time you've hung out on a weekday, it's been cut short by a call from home or your own consciousness screaming at you to get back and do your work before you flunk out.

"I really am sorry," your hand squeezes around him, breath stuttering in anticipation as you mentally beg him to squeeze back, just to signal that he's not so upset about this. "I would— I would stay out for longer, but… Alma, really. I’m sorry.”

“You apologize way too much,” he says, earnest and honest and still smiling the way he always does at you, with something warm between his lips. “Hey, um, can we go on one last ride? I’ll pay for your ticket. The— the ferris wheel?”

He’s so stupid, and it’s corny and cheesy and ridiculous, but you see the heat of hope on the apples of his cheeks and his eyes dart around from yours to the flickering lights behind you. Your lungs squeeze, and so does your hand around his. You’re a weak person, too weak against Alma and the fond feeling in your chest. You relent easily.

“Okay,” you agree, lips curling in giddiness and wonder. Alma laughs a little bit, breathy and relieved, and promises to take you home after this one last ride, and you can’t find it in yourself to feel guilty when you get home late, math homework untouched, responsibilities replaced by the fluttering in your stomach.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

fill out my event taglist (pinned) to be tagged in works for this event!

#nora hits 1k #alma x reader #alma gokurakugai x reader #gokurakugai x reader #gokurakugai alma x reader #the gokuraku district's third avenue incident #gokurakugai #alma #alma gokurakugai #gokurakugai fic #this was very much supposed to be like bffs #the feeling of ur first close friend #i was heavily and deeply and painfully reminded of kanata while writing this #i miss her #also could u imagine being friends with someone ur age that does cool stuff like fighting monsters #and ur like “oh yeah i do math homework...sometimes...”

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dreamingofep · 11 months

Text

At Ease

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: kinda🤭

Prompt: Today is the day Elvis comes home from the army and you’re waiting for him with open arms. He wants to show you how much he missed you. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing/ tension, SMUTTT, oral sex, fingering, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

I love some army Elvis and he looks way too damn good to not write about him! Like who gave him the fucking right I hate it. This idea came with the help of @loving-elvis when we noticed how beautiful he looked in this interview and what fun could be had on that desk🤭 I purposefully put that bottom left picture on here for good reasons 🫣 Thank you @cryingabtab for the title name🩷

Again this man has me weak, I’ll never get over him so I hope you enjoy this little one shot and let me know what you think!

I also mentioned earlier that I'm also posting my fics on Ao3 so you can read my stuff there too if you want! The link is on my masterlist. Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

March 7th, 1960

Excited nerves rattled your body as you waited for the white gates to open to Graceland. These last two years have felt like a lifetime since the last time you saw Elvis. He left your life in such an abrupt fashion and you couldn’t believe they shipped him off to Germany so quickly.

You had only been seeing each other for a few months before he was shipped off so it wasn’t a serious relationship by any means. You both did have a really nice connection though. One that was so easy you didn’t need to think about being a certain way with him or do anything that you didn’t feel was right. He just had this presence that calmed you, but also left you on edge with a tingly sensation running down your spine.

He was just as heartbroken about the news of the draft as you were. His career was taking off and he was doing what he loved. Couldn’t help but feel he was cheated of the opportunity to do more, but he’s coming back home today and you know he’s going to make a big impact with whatever he does next.

On his last day here in Memphis, you clung to his shoulders, not wanting him to go so soon. You had hope that things could go further with him but the draft might spoil those chances.

“When I come back, if you don’t already have a man takin’ care of ya, will you be here waiting for me?” His voice cracking with emotion.

You gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, trying to memorize how they look into yours.

“Yes honey, I’ll be here,” you whisper.

He cracks that crooked smile you love so much and kisses you passionately, flames building inside you. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you in closer to his warm body. You feel your heart gallop in your chest, your body wanting him like never before. But it’s all too late, and the wonder of what could have been will haunt your dreams for the next two years. He pulls away and looks at you breathlessly.

“If you want, will you be good for me? Stay untouched and everything,” he asks innocently with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You nod your head, squeezing his hand assuredly.

Within these last two years, no guy has caught your eye, not the way Elvis Presley does. Your friends would set you up on dates with some guys but they always fell short compared to Elvis.

His daddy let you know a few days before that Elvis was coming home and he wanted you there if you weren’t busy. You were thrilled Elvis told him about you, giving you a glint of hope that he still has feelings for you. You knew you were playing a dangerous game though. Elvis could have found a new love in Germany and forgot all about you or he might want you again.

The white gates slowly open and the black Cadillac makes its way up the winding driveway. Everyone that gathered on the steps of Graceland buzzed with excitement to get a glimpse of Elvis after all this time.

The back door opens and out comes that tall, blue-eyed boy you’ve missed so much. He was wearing all black, his tan chest peeking out from his dress shirt that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. A gold medallion hung from his neck and he flashed that million-dollar smile you had seen so many times in newspapers and magazines. His hair perfectly styled and drooping down onto his forehead when he moved. You couldn’t imagine a better looking man.

He gets rushed with hugs and kisses from his family members and you can’t help but feel the excitement grow inside you to get a hug from him next. His eyes dart up to meet yours standing there on the stoop of the entryway and he looks at you in awe. He politely parts from everyone and makes a beeline to you standing there. He looks you up and down, his eyes lingering places on your body longer than he normally would and it makes you blush. Elvis bites his lower lip as he smiles and shakes his head at you, “well goddamn. Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. He wraps his arms around your torso and picks you up, giving you a big hug. You can’t help but squeal as he squeezes the air out of you. You giggle as you breathe again and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. He places a soft kiss on your cheek and sets you back on the ground, taking another look at you.

“Is it possible you got more handsome?” You ask coyly. He grins down at you, not letting go of your waist. There’s an intense heat radiating through him, his eyes boring holes into your entire body.

“No honey I’m still just me. You on the other hand… my God you look so gorgeous. I really missed you,” he smiles.

You can’t help but reach for his face, caressing it with your thumb, and look into those mesmerizing eyes.

“I missed you too Elvis,” you say shyly.

He reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. He looks back to the crowd forming and pulls you into the house, closing the door hoping no one will notice his absence.

“Where are we going?” you say in a hushed whisper as he’s pulling you swiftly to the back of the house.

“Away from everyone. I just want a second with ya before I get bombarded with people,” he says as he opens the back door and rushes into the back office outside. He closes the door and the stillness of the office brings a chill to you. Not only that, but the way Elvis feels around you is something you hadn’t experienced before. He feels so comforting and at the same time, dangerous? You can’t really put a finger on what it is but something has changed about him. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing either, it’s just overwhelming and makes you want to sink to your knees. The confidence that he carried now shined through him like never before. When he left, he was still trying to figure himself out, the fame blinded him and he was still a little shy kid from Tupelo. But now, the confidence he carries is so… attractive. You don’t want to get away from him.

Elvis’ hands find your waist once more and pulls you in to hug you, leaning down his face into the crook of your neck. A chill forms all over his body as his skin touches yours.

More… your body screams.

Your brain races a million miles per second and you try to calm yourself down.

He sighs softly and looks back at you, almost unsure of what to say.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want anyone else waiting for me,” he coos, tucking your hair behind your ear, showing your face to him.

“I wouldn’t have missed it, honey. It’s been too long,” you say, your hand snaking up to his soft hair.

A new tension forms in the room and your heart pounds because of it. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye the more he looks at you. A look of want? Need? No, lust. Raging, burning, lust when he stares at you. He parts his lips and subtly licks them, his eyes looking like they’re intoxicated.

“Baby?” He murmurs.

“Hmm,” you say dreamily.

“I need to kiss you,” he says as his breathing starts to hitch.

Your hands grab onto the front of his shirt and pull him in closer.

“Well what are you waiting for,” you whisper, pulling him into you and reaching up to kiss him.

His soft lush lips press into yours and you could swear this is what heaven feels like. He breathes in deeply as he goes for another kiss, heat coming off of him in abundance. Your hand wanders over his chest, feeling the soft little hairs that lay there. His lips continue to devour yours, putting his hand on the back of your neck, making a soft airy moan slip from your lips as he deepens the kiss.

Elvis likes this response from you, letting a moan of his own come out and he pushes his hips into your body. Your heart dances wildly, relishing in this new sensation he’s giving you, feeling his member grow hard with need. You gasp when you feel his bulge and your core begins to throb.

You look up at him breathless, needing more of him but not too sure what to do next.

“Oh honey,” he mutters, his hands grappling at your dress, scrunching up the pretty tulle fabric.

“Elvis… I-I-I want you… you feel good,” you stutter out.

A cute coy smile appears across his face.

“You feel even better baby.” He says cutely.

He walks you back toward the desk, lifting you up and sitting you down on the cold surface. He steps in between your legs, causing you to spread them apart more than you normally would.

“Baby uh,” he stammers.

“What honey?”

“Have you been good? Staying a good little girl for me?” He asks. Heat rushes to your core as you realize what he’s asking of you.

“Mhmm, yes honey. Been on my best behavior,” you assure.

A little smirk forms on his face and he grabs a hand full of your dress up, moving it above your knee and stopping there.

“Can I see? Can I feel how good you’ve been?” He says low, his voice dripping with temptation.

Wetness pools in your panties and there’s nothing more enticing than having Elvis touch you. You want it so bad it feels like you can’t breathe properly without his skin on yours.

“Yes, you can touch me,” you squeak out.

He lifts your dress up higher, exposing your white cotton panties that now had a wet stain on them. He sees the stain and his eyebrows shoot up and he hums to himself in contentment.

He loops his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lift up your hips to help him get them off of you.

You’re left exposed there on the table not sure what the state of your pussy might be looking like but based on the way it feels, it has to look a mess. He crouched down to get a better look at you, spreading open your folds with two of his fingers and seeing the wetness spilling out of you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Someone’s been a very bad girl,” he tsks.

Your whole body feels on edge and a bit embarrassed, but you know Elvis wouldn’t make you feel bad about this sort of thing.

“I’ve only been bad since you drove through those gates,” you stammer. “Just the sight of you has me dying…”

“Oh I see honey… can I feel how bad… how bad this pussy needs attention”

Your heart thumps wildly and you are so magnetized to him and his gaze. You never want him to stop looking at you like this.

“Yes, please touch me,” you whimper.

He leans into kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth and tangling against yours. You pull him in again by his collar and moan. He slowly pulls away, his eyes looking at you ravenously.

Elvis places his index finger on your lips, rubbing it along your bottom lip.

“Open your mouth and lick,” he instructs.

Your breathing hitches and you nod your head, opening your lips apart and letting him push his finger in your mouth. You lick his long finger, swirling it like a lollipop, getting most of it wet with your saliva. You grab onto his wrist and continue the motions as he watches you intensely. A deep guttural growl comes out of him as you look up at him with pleading eyes, watching him come undone with this one small act.

He slowly pulls his finger out, traveling down to your wet heat. His finger gets in between your slick, wet, folds and he cusses when he feels how soaked you are. He rubs it back and forth a few times, giving you a new shocking feeling and increasing the throbbing sensation that has formed there. His fingertip finds your entrance and he carefully plunges it into your core. You gasp, never having been penetrated before and unaccustomed to anything being inside you. His finger feels so long inside you and your walls hug it taught. Your mind races with the thought of what his dick could feel like inside you. If his fingers were long… surely he had something to hide in his pants.

Elvis moans when he gets knuckle deep inside you, grabbing onto your thigh and squeezing it with his other hand.

“Fuck honey, this pussy feels perfect. I want to be inside you so bad,” he moans, his finger curling up and pushing up against this spot inside you that could make you scream.

“Mmm, oh god yes,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. He gives a pleased chuckle as he watches you grind more, figuring out what feels best.

Suddenly, a group of voices start to get closer to the office and their footsteps become louder. You freeze, your heart sinking to your stomach as you don’t know what to do.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself.

He carefully pulls his finger out and licks all the slick that’s gathered on his finger. He moans when it hits his tongue and his eyes roll back slightly.

“Mmm, taste so sweet honey. We’re gonna have to wait though, the reporters are coming, I need you to hide,” He says controlled.

“What? Right now? Crap, where should I go?” You say in a bit of a panic.

He pulls your dress down as the voices become louder, “get underneath the desk baby. Don’t make a sound,” he says as he leads you to the back of the desk and covers the back of your head so it doesn’t get hit. You crouch down and get in the corner of the desk, bending your knees up to your chest and try to control your breathing.

The door bursts open and a bunch of men’s voices fill the small office. You hear camera bulbs flash and everyone trying to get Elvis' attention.

“Elvis right here!”

“Elvis how’s it feel to be home?!”

“Elvis turn to the left please!”

You hear his father’s voice telling them to calm down and ask questions one at a time.

Elvis is quiet as they snap a few pictures and then he goes to sit down behind the desk. You see his legs move the chair aside and sits down, spreading his legs open and pulling his slacks up.

You stare at how he’s sitting like he’s just teasing you in your helpless state. He leans forward on the desk, waiting for the reporters to get organized before they ask their first question. There’s little light coming through but your eyes get drawn to his crotch. There you see the outline of his hard member, pressing against his leg. You have to place your hand over your mouth from the gasp you wanted to make. He was so much longer than you could have ever anticipated and that growing need of having him inside you grew immensely.

The throbbing grew inside you and you squeeze your legs together, needing some relief. You pray that this interview isn’t an hour long or something because you’re going to be in agony by then. Elvis starts answering questions very nonchalantly, his smooth deep voice bringing a zing to your core. His southern inflection on certain words makes your heart leap out of your chest. How can he be so sexy just doing the bare minimum?

His foot rubs against your leg, rubbing it up and down as he sits back and swivels his chair side to side answering the questions.

Your hand snakes up his pant leg and you squeeze his calf. His leg tenses when he first feels you but then relaxes. Your fingers rub slow soft circles on his toned leg and he starts to move it. You’re not sure if he’s moving it out of nervousness or out of distraction but you can’t keep your hands off of him.

The next question has you at attention and you stop rubbing his leg.

“Elvis, did you find anyone special over there?”

He chuckles amused by the question, “No no I didn’t. I did meet this one girl… but it was no big love affair or anything. They just took some pictures when I was getting on the plane that’s all.”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful he wasn’t madly in love with someone else overseas. But right now it honestly didn’t really matter, he wanted you and was wanting to make love to you and your body craves him. He scoots the chair in some more, leaning on the desk waiting for more questions. Your hand travels further up and finds his still hard length. The heat radiates off of him and it makes your mouth water. You rub it gently, up and down, feeling his body stiffen when you put more pressure. He clears his throat as he answers the next question and pushes the chair in even further under the table, giving you better access.

His hips subtly rut into your hand and your need for him grows when he does this. You never thought you could make him feel like this but you have him all in your hand and based on how he’s moving, he’s loving it.

You feel your wetness seep out of you and run down your leg. You were turned on like never before and needed him to pour all of his attention on you.

More…. Your body continues to scream.

Your hands move up further until you find the button of his pants and slowly slide down the zipper.

He puts one of his hands on his thigh and scrunches the material of his slacks in a frustrated manner.

You make sure not to move too quickly to not give any attention to what’s happening behind the desk. Your hand reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard length. You press your lips together to hold make the moan you want to make as you stare at his cock.

He was much longer than you thought and part of you is nervous to have all of that inside you, but on the other hand, you are so unbelievably horny for him, wanting him to stuff you to the hilt with it. You feel the tip of him leaking with a clear fluid. Your thumb swirls it, spreading it along his head and his hips jolt forward, making it seem like he was just adjusting in his seat.

Your hand starts to slowly jerk him, feeling the heat of him in your palm like a hot rod. You feel so dirty for doing this but love that it’s with Elvis and it seems he’s enjoying it. Another really bad idea comes into your mind. One that you’ve only ever heard of from other girlfriends and right now, it seems like a really good idea. You want him in your mouth.

Your heart continues to gallop, almost sure that everyone can hear it in this room. You decide to go for it, and pull back his foreskin and swirl your tongue on it. The clear fluid tastes salty but your mouth waters for more. You wrap your lips around him and put more of him in your mouth. You hear him take a deep breath in as he answers the last question and try to maintain his calm stature.

Your wetness continues to pool more and the throbbing becomes almost insatiable. You try to not make any noise with your mouth but it is difficult. You have to take it slow and based on Elvis’ hip motions, he’s liking it.

The reporters thank Elvis for his time and people start to file out. A few of them hang back trying to get another question in but his daddy escorts them out and informs them the interview is done.

“Daddy, please let me be alone in here. Don’t let anyone in. I need a moment to myself,” He says calmly as your mouth takes more of him. You hear his audible gasp and clear his throat again.

“Sure son, no problem,” He assures.

The click of the door closes and Elvis stays still, making sure no one is going to come in. He moves his hips away from you and you release his length from your mouth. He stands up and swiftly goes to the door, turning the top bolt. You hear his footsteps come around the desk and he pushes the chair away from it. He reaches his hand underneath the desk and finds your arm and pulls you out from underneath.

He has fire in his eyes and looks so unbelievably intense. Taking the back of his forearm, he wipes the desk off clean. Papers fluttered into the ground and paperweights made a loud thud when they hit the carpet.

He picks you up underneath your arms and sits you down firmly on the desk. Your eyes wander down to his open slacks and see his length in a better light. You softly moan when you see it, veins protruding from his shaft and the head of it peeking from his foreskin, red and glistening with your spit.

He places his hand on your chin, making you look up into his eyes.

“Jesus Christ woman, look what you’ve done to me,” his head shoots down to look at his length. He doesn’t let your head move and you just have to wait for what he wants to do next.

“That stuff you were doing was very bad… I liked it a bit too much,” he says devilishly.

“Oh yeah? I wasn’t sure but… I’m glad you did. I really liked it too,” you say timidly.

His hands squeeze your thighs, spreading your legs open and pulling up your dress to rest his cock on your folds. You gasp at the sensation and he moans deeply. He takes his cock in his hand to rub the tip of it on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp and claw at his arm, cussing underneath your breath.

“God you’re so wet honey,” he groans as his length gathers more of your arousal on him. He watches you intently, seeing how your eyes cannot be taken away from his length. He chuckles inwardly and continues to tease you.

“You see something you like?” He asks deviously.

Your breathing quickens as you continue to watch him rub his length through your folds.

“Y-y-yes Elvis I umm… oh God,” you pant, letting these euphoric feelings wash over your body.

“What baby, what is it? Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he tantalizes.

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet with what you’re about to say. “I just… umm… I didn’t expect you to be so… so big,” you mutter, looking back up into his eyes.

A soft smirk forms on his face, “it’s gonna feel even better inside you,” he coos. “Are you ready for me? You want me to take care of you?”

Your head feels like you’re on a cloud and drunk on him at the same time.

“Yes please,” you mewl.

He pulls your dress up off your body and pushes you back on the desk to have you lie down. The cold surface hits your back and sends chills through you as Elvis looms over you. His hands squeeze your breasts and another bolt of lightning travels through your body to your core.

He lines himself up and pushes the tip in, making you cry out. He grunts when he tries to put more inside of you.

“Fuck honey you’re so tight. You need some help taking me.” He says pulling out of you and placing two fingers on your clit and rubbing there. You let out another needy moan as he works you. He coats his two fingers in your wetness and carefully pushed them inside you.

“Ohmygod,” you cry out and your head pops up off of the desk to watch him finger you. He curls them and feels out your fluttering walls.

“Yes baby that’s it, keep nice and relaxed for me,” He beckons. His fingers reach places you haven’t even known about, making the slick between your legs grow even more. You begin to rut into his hand, letting your instincts take over and get the most pleasure out of it.

He groans when he watches you, almost looking envious of his fingers with how good they’re making you feel.

He quickly pulls them out of you and you moan with feeling so empty.

He lines himself up again against your weeping hole and looks at you, he sees your pleading eyes wild and lust-filled.

He pushes himself in and groans heavily, your wet heat wrapping tightly around him. You cry out for him, feeling the searing pain and pleasure filling your body. He keeps a slow pace, pushing in more of his length with each thrust. You watch as he pulls out his cock and see your wetness cover it, then get buried back inside you. It’s all too much, the sensations that he brings to you are like nothing you’ve ever experienced or thought you could experience.

Elvis hisses as he moves faster, “goddamn honey, feeling so good. Squeezing my cock so tight already,” he slurs. He grabs onto your hips and starts to drive into you like this. You moan louder, feeling the pain sear through you.

“Elvis please,” you cry. He rubs one of his thumbs on your clit and moves it in fast circles.

“You’re doing so good honey. Almost there,” he says as he pushes the rest of his length inside you making both of you groan.

“Oh god Elvis yes,” you moan. Pleasure slowly starts to seep through your veins and tightens the coil in your belly. He moves his hips faster, hitting all the right places and making you feel so good.

His face looks gorgeous like this, so concentrated on you but so lustful. He makes the most delicious noises when he takes you, grunting and panting for air as he stuffs you completely. His eyes are glued to his length going in and out of you and how each snap of his hips makes you moan even louder.

The pain subsides and all you can feel is mind-blowing satisfaction. You sit up on your forearms to look at him fuck you, your coil tightening by the second. His hips pound into you harder, rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, bringing you closer to orgasm.

His eyes drink you in and suddenly stop when he looks at your belly. He cusses and places his hands on your lower belly, putting a new pressure there making you feel so full. Every snap of his hips drives you wild and you’re so close to screaming his name.

“Look baby, look how deep I am inside ya,” he grunts breathlessly. He lifts his hand and you can see the poking of his head pushing up on your lower abdomen. You moan deeply, unable to take much more. The squelching coming from between your legs makes Elvis take you faster, wanting to take you to the edge.

“Fuck Elvis, that’s so good,” you gasp, placing your own hand on your belly to feel him inside you.

He growls, too far gone with lust raging through him, “Oh honey, takin’ me so good. You’re gonna make me cum,” he groans.

He leans down to suck on your breast, licking and biting at your nipples. Your walls flutter and you know you’re going to cum. He sees the panic and pounds into you harder, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“Come on baby, let yourself go,” he pleads.

You throw your head back and scream for him as your walls squeeze around his girth. Your entire body radiates with pleasure and you can’t catch your breath with how he’s taking you.

He moans your name too, barely able to contain himself while he’s inside you.

“Goddamn baby, I need to cum…” he grunts through his teeth, his hips becoming sporadic and his strides uneven.

He abruptly pulls out of you and jerks his cock in his hand. You watch as white-hot spurts come shooting out of him and into your belly. You watch in awe as he comes undone in front of you, probably one of the single most hottest things you had ever seen in your life. The way his eyebrows furrow together and opens his mouth before letting out the most satisfying-sounding moan you’ve ever heard.

Elvis pants over you, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning onto the desk with one hand. You look up at him in a daze, unable to comprehend what has happened within this last hour. Your body feels weak yet floating on a cloud. You have no idea sex could be that good let alone it being your first time. Those famous hips put in the work and left you breathless. You look down at the pool of his arousal sitting on your belly, and back up to him.

“Was that okay for you honey? Did I do a good job?” He asks innocently. You nod your head yes quickly, almost laughing that he even had to ask you that.

“Oh yeah honey, you were… God I have no idea what to say, It was so damn good,” you gush.

A smile forms on his face as he looks at your body again, “Good baby, I loved it too. I couldn’t get enough,” he teases, wiping your belly off with a tissue.

“Well umm… I’m free for the rest of the day…. If you decided you wanted some more of me,” you tease.

He lets out a little chuckle and his eyes light up, “I might just have to take you up on that,” he coos.

•

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticlOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7

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leaderpinhead · 3 months

Text

Malleus - Pen Pals

Prompt: Letter or Package

Malleus stopped everything when a housekeeper silently presented a letter to him. He plucked the envelope from the gaudy tray and retreated into his room. Flipping the envelope over in his hand, an unfiltered smile stretched across his lips. The handwritten Hornton (Also Known As Lord Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley and Majestic Fire Breathing Lizard) would have identified the sender even if she had not signed her name above the return address.

After making himself comfortable at his desk, Malleus deftly sliced open the envelope with his silver letter opener. He pulled a thick parchment of paper out along with a small stack of photos. Putting aside the photos, he eagerly unfolded the paper and skimmed the child of man’s scratchy handwriting.

Dear Hornton, Firstly, I have been informed by Sebek that I have grievously offended your sensibilities by mailing my letters at the attention of “Hornton” instead of “Lord Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley and Majestic Fire Breathing Lizard of Twisted Wonderland.” For that I apologize and hope your sensibilities have been healed accordingly with the correction you have likely seen. (Sebek is currently having a frothing seizure from reading over my shoulder. The next letter you receive from him will probably be an entire rant on my atrocious behavior. I’ve included a photo for your entertainment.) Other than that, we have all been enjoying the last few weeks of our classes. Grim and Ace managed to cover an entire lab room with slime last week after they fought over our cauldron. Something fell in, and Ace still refuses to tell me what it was despite me threatening him with a bucket of fresh oysters. Professor Crewel decided Deuce and I were innocent, so we got to make fun of Ace and Grim cleaning the slime. Speaking of Deuce, he and Jack had a track meet last week against RSA. They totally decimated all the RSA guys’ times! Jack took first with a record-breaking time in the 100m dash, and Deuce was right behind him. The spelldrive game we had last week against them didn’t go so well, but Epel has been walking on clouds ever since he scored a goal from centerfield. It would have won the game if an unfair penalty hadn’t extended the game and let RSA score again. Other than critiquing my letter writing skills, Sebek has been helping me with a few new martial arts moves. He insists I need to master them as quickly as possible because of my weak, magicless existence. My goal is to have him flat on his back by the end of the month. I will send photo evidence of his shock when I succeed. How have you been? Sebek sings nothing but praises (of course), but Silver said in his last letter that he’s found you wandering the castle late at night. Have you been getting enough sleep? You know, spring break is right around the corner. I'll gladly orchestrate an elaborate kidnapping if you need one (and I’ll bring Lilia out of retirement to let me stand on his shoulders while I climb through your window). Kalim could set us up in Silk City for a few days, or we can find a beach to lay out on and pretend politics don’t exist. We can even pop into the Sunset Savana and heckle Leona a bit. I’ll give you the chance to choose while I start drawing out my dramatic siege on your castle. Write back to me soon! Yuu

Malleus chuckled at the small smiley face Yuu had drawn beside her name. Setting the letter on his desk, he carefully spread out the photos she had included. He matched the photo of Deuce and Jack in their Track Club uniforms, both of them grinning widely as they held up gold and silver medallions. The photo of Grim and Ace covered in green slime and glaring into the camera made him chuckle. So did the photo of a crouched Sebek clutching his head, mainly because Yuu had scribbled He’s going into Draconia shock in the corner of the photo. The action shot of Epel sending a spelldrive disc across the field —his expression of fierce determination highlighted by the fiery sparks from the disc—impressed Malleus and reminded him of the three years he had played spelldrive on the campus.

His smile softened when he picked up the last photo. Even when he still attended Night Raven College, the prefect had been averse to having her photo taken. She had preferred snapping photos of everyone else with her Ghost Camera, though Malleus had seen her occasionally give into taking a picture with Diamond using his phone.

Ever since they began their letter exchanges—the year after his internships concluded and he returned to Briar Valley—she had included at least one photo of herself. At first, they had been candid shots taken by another: her caught mid-yawn, her tiredly staring at Vargas, her hovering over a cauldron. After a few months, the photos had become more deliberate. The photos were taken from an angle that clearly indicated she took them herself, usually to show him the myriad of activities she participated in. She had even taken a picture of herself in the mirror to show him her Halloween costume that year.

This photo was a simple self-portrait of her pointing at a cluster of tiny sprouts peeking out of the ground. There was no note written on the photo, so he concluded the sprouts were from the seeds he had mailed to her a month earlier. She had insisted he send them despite him adamantly arguing it was a plant only capable of growing in Briar Valley. She was clearly set on proving him wrong as indicated by her wide eyes and raised brows.

Chuckling at her cheekiness, Malleus reached for a quill and blank sheet of parchment. After dipping the tip into a jar of ink, Malleus began writing with a light flourish in each stroke.

Child of Man, You need not worry how you address your letters. I have informed the staff any letters from Night Raven College are to be delivered to me immediately. I shall reiterate this to Sebek when his next missive arrives. (While I enjoy seeing yours and Sebek’s friendship grow, I must caution you not to push him too far. He will one day be at my side as a trusted retainer, and I require his wits be intact.) I see that your final year on the campus is shaping to be a very lively one. Though I must insist you share with me your current accomplishments as well. Have you attained the proper paperwork to begin your internship with Professor Crewel next year? Are you still enjoying the presence of other students in Ramshackle Dorm? Has Crowley requested your assistance since solving the mystery of Octavinelle’s missing fishes? As for your inquiry, I will simply say learning all I can from my grandmother is quite a feat. She wishes to retire soon, and I understand her desire to wipe her hands of the council. I strive to attain the knowledge and practical skills to take her place. But on the off chance a dastardly human managed to climb through my window and force my departure from the castle for a time...I feel as if I would almost be required to oblige. Awaiting your dramatic kidnapping, M. D.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #twst yuu #ffc 2024

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llondonfog · 4 months

Note

i hope you're doing well, my dear lettie <3 for the six sentence prompt ask game, might i request silver getting sick at school and lilia dutifully cuts class to take care of him? 🥹

"Oh— oh, watch yourself, love—"

The hand on his arm is sure and steady, and it is the only thing that keeps Silver's knees from buckling away beneath him as if he were wobbling around with transfigured sea legs, jellified and weak.

It's a familiar touch, one that he would know even in the deepest of slumbers. He doesn't need to lift his heavy eyes to know who has seemingly materialized out of thin air to support him, and because Silver is, still among all things, a child, it takes no effort at all to slump his head to the side and rest his forehead against the waiting curve of his father's shoulder.

" . . . now, what am I to do with you?"

Silver was sick.

And not the average, runny-nose and scratchy cough kind, but the roiling shower steam nausea, feverish kind— the kind that felt as if little craft fairies with lead hammers had taken up residence in the hollows of his bones and the aching sinus pockets behind his eyes, and were banging incessantly on his raw nerves with vicious, unmitigated glee.

Morning classes had been an absolute misery of sensory havoc, his mind distracted and his glazed eyes slipping shut with even more forceful vengeance than usual. His pen had scrawled aimless lines across the blank notebook pages, and even Trein had spared him a pitying glance, not that Silver had realized it, for his flushed cheeks and obvious disorientation.

(Neither had he noticed Kalim's repeated concerned glances, nor the way that his friend kept tapping on his cell phone with a worried twist to his perpetually upturned lips.)

It was little wonder then that as the students streamed in eager droves out of their lecture halls for lunch, Silver chose instead to attempt a shuffling escape towards the Mirror Hall, towards Diasomnia and the promise of a timed catnap in the gloomy embrace of its dark, cool corridors before the rigor of his afternoon classes could begin.

He'd been rather foolish to believe he'd make it there unaided with how the stone floor beneath him started to wink closer, the sinking realization tugging at his stomach that he was beginning to plummet down to meet it without resistance, until a presence unannounced had swooped in by his side.

So focused now on attempting to wrangle his breakfast into submission before it inevitably made a second, less pleasant appearance upon his father's uniform, he hardly notices until too late that the ground has disappeared under his very feet with a swiftness that spares him the nauseous threat. Bleary eyes blink past the invisible weight pressing insistent fingers against them, and Silver manages to find a glimmer of incredulity among all of his slippery, pounding thoughts as he stares up at the fae cradling him in his arms as if he were all of five again— and smiling as pleased as punch, in the middle of the grand hallway no less.

". . . Father— !" he doesn't even think to correct himself as he croaks out the beloved title, utterly at a loss as to what the fae could possibly be thinking. "Father, please, put me down! Someone might see—"

"And see what?" His father's eyes sparkle down at him with mischievous delight, but it is not enough to mask the darker currents of worry that linger there, stealing the rest of the sputtering arguments from Silver's mind. "That I'm caring for my adorable junior classmate as a good vice housewarden should?"

His mouth opens and closes more uselessly than a fish as he stares without a rebuttal at the self-satisfied fae, unable to come up with a worthwhile protest in the sluggish cogs of his mind.

The rambunctious cacophony of their fellow classmates echoes from further down the hall, and Lilia's smile creases into something tender and private, an expression reserved for Silver and Silver alone as those clawed fingertips drift soothingly through his sweaty bangs. There's no magic that glitters from his touch, and yet Silver's eyes find themselves drooping instantly just the same, his head tucking forward to rest against his father's chest where that heartbeat reverberates like a lullaby in his ears.

"Come on, dear— let's get you back to bed."

#lettie's asks #lettie writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #diasomnia #THIS GOT CARRIED AWAY FROM ME #BUT ALL OF OUR HURT/COMFORT SICK FLUFF CHATS SEIZED ME AND WOULDN'T LET ME GO UNTIL I WROTE IT #JUST SOMETHING A LITTLE SILLY #please enjoy resident bat!dad doting on his baby boy <3 #burying him under blankets in lilia's bed and forcefeeding him [redacted] soup

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dairy-farmer · 6 months

Note

Hello! I finally found the courage to publicly create an account, and take this time to give you your flowers. You have single-handedly gotten me into the dc fandom (cough Tim Drake fandom cough) with your works alone. Your Piquancy series is one of my favourite fandom works ever, and I reread it every other month. Each story has its own appeal and the way you write is sublime! (Special shoutout to the icon, the legend, i want you to notice (when i'm not around) You're probably my favorite writer by a long shot, every single thing that you write just hits different. I also sent you a couple of ask prompts anonymously (Tim fixing a plate, Timber + Brutim Initials necklace, and Brutim Whump+ Damitim Marriage), and the way you turned those prompts into drabbles just made my day!

I know that fandom ain't that serious, but I just wanted to give you your flowers for inspiring this little trans girl from a third world country to start writing despite the language barrier. 🫶

Anyway, I have come bearing a prompt, a gift, feel free to add onto it, I know you'd do this prompt justice (or ignore this part completely)

Brutim + One-sided Damitim | Tim gets pregnant out of petty spite

Damian and Tim never got along, even after all these years working together, and the promises of Dick and Bruce of Damian growing out of his mean streak. There wasn't been a day where the two youngest Waynes haven't butted heads. This isn't to say that they never tried to get along, well, Tim did try. He tried being the bigger person, only for it to backfire as Damian saw this as a moment of weakness to further intensify his wrath towards the previous robin. Tim tried bonding with the brat by trying to engage with him using his interests, but Damian usually reacted by mockery followed by an insult or five.

Furthermore, Dick is always on Tim's case about being there for Damian, and actually exert some effort into forming a relationship with the al Ghul. No matter how many times Tim trying to explain their situation, he is only met with a disappointed look and a reminder that he's the older one so it's his responsibility to be the bigger person.

The breaking point was one day where almost everyone in the Batfamily was in the manor while Tim was running late from a meeting with Waynetech. Once, he got to the manor, to his surprise, Alfred wasn't there to greet him by the door, so he just went inside. He found everyone with the exception of Bruce in the entertainment room as they were all bonding over a card game. He was honestly shocked by this sight.

He first noticed how much of a teenager Damian actually is. He was no longer the cold-blooded trained assassin from the league, nor the violent sidekick of Batman. He looked like an average teenage boy while he laughed at one of Jason's quips, while giving Duke a high-five. Tim felt like an outsider, his insecurity about his position with the Wayne always loomed over his head. He tries not to think about how the robin mantle was ripped away from him by dick, or how he's technically emancipated from Bruce, as he watches Steph give Damian a noogie while he playfully swatted her back. When the hell did they become that close?

Tim makes his presence known, and while majority of the group welcomes him, the familiar sneer of Damian is all he could focus on. Cass whispers into Damian's ear while they both look at Tim, and his sneer becomes more intense. Tim could definitely tell that the room was less lively due to his sudden appearance. Tired from running Bruce's company, and hurt by the youngest Wayne's irrational dislike towards him. He had to let out his frustration, one way or the other.

"What the hell is your problem, Damian?" Tim shouted at the teen, silence fills the room as all attention turns to Tim.

"Your presence enough is a problem, Drake" Damian retorts while Cass squeezes Damian's arm whether for comfort or warning, Tim doesn't know.

"It's been years, why are you so desperate to keep me away from this family? What did I do to you?" Tim feels his tears coming, but he needed to know why Damian unreasonably hated him.

"I will never see you as family, Drake." There it is, the undeniable truth. Damian will never accept him as family. His vision is blurred by his tears as he runs out of the room. Behind him, he could hear Dick reprimand Damian for saying something hurtful, yet Tim doesn't hear a proclamation that Tim is part of the family. What Tim doesn't see is how the youngest Wayne is white out of shock from the words that left his mouth.

Tim instinctually runs to the place in the manor that gives him the most comfort, Bruce's bedroom. The room is dark as he enters and jumps under the covers. He is too caught up with his emotions that he fails to realize the warm body beside him. A familiar strong pair of arms envelop him, and the commanding deep voice is heard behind him. "What's wrong, ducky?" Tim bursts into tears as he puts his head on Bruce's hairy chest, the older man hands naturally rubs Tim's back for comfort. Tim just cries his heart out, and Bruce's presence is enough to comfort him, probably the only thing in this world that comforts him. He's been in a relationship with Bruce since the appearance of Damian, and he'd been ready to go public until Damian's disapproval of Tim made itself known. Despite, Bruce's willingness to go public immediately so he could proclaim his love for his ducky for the world to see, Tim knew that they needed to go about this carefully. This is why Tim was so adamant of forming a good relationship with Bruce's only biological son, he wanted this family as a united front from the judgement and vitriol they would inevitably receive once they go public. However, after years of trying, he finally got his answer that he will never obtain this acceptance.

"You finally okay now, Ducky?" Tim breaks from his stupor by Bruce's calm voice.

"I'm finally ready, Bruce."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes" Tim smiles up at Bruce, the tears had made his face flush beautifully. "Let's have a baby."

A few months later, Bruce called for a emergency family meeting, and announces that there would be a new addition to the family. Jason makes an off-comment about who did Bruce knock up now, until Tim enters the room and stands beside Bruce, with a visible baby bump. Everyone is rationally shocked by this announcement, then appalled by the implications of this relationship. Damian though, looks like the world just crashed in his eyes. Beyond the sketchy circumstances of how their relationship began, they were undeniably good for one another. It took a while but everyone slowly had gotten used to the change in the family, all except Damian who can't bear being in the same room with the two.

Around a year later, baby Damon Wayne is born to the surprise of everyone outside the family. (A last petty retaliation from Tim towards Damian.) As expected, the public sensationalizes Tim and Bruce's relationship since Bruce knew Tim since he was a child. The Justice League expresses their concern over this relationship, but no matter what they tried, they can't find a fault or outside influence within the relationship.

Tim took to motherhood beautifully, quitting his stressful CEO job, and deciding that he rather stay at home while taking care of baby Damon. A gradual shift occurred where he became Bruce Wayne's protege to Brucie Wayne's little wife. Even Dick and Jason seem to regard him with more authority, as those two have the most unresolved mommy issues. He takes care of (runs) the family as a mother would, and he is reward for it. Damian doesn't mouth off at him anymore, especially since Tim wouldn't give him the time of day.

If Damian will never see him as family, so be it. But once, Tim gives Bruce a baby that he desperately wants, nobody could contest his position in the family as the new matriarch of the Waynes. Little did Tim know that they reason why the youngest Wayne was so incessant of his opposition towards Tim being family all stemmed from his belief that Tim was never going to be his brother, but his intended wife.

wow thank you so much!!!!!!!🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰!!! it means a lot to hear that you enjoy my work!!!! and even more to know that you've picked up writing!!! it makes me ecstatic to hear that!!!!!!! so many of the people who have sent asks (including yours!!!!) are so brilliant, creative, and amazing and i hope that many of them begin writing or continue with it because the best part of my day is being able to open these asks and see some of the amazing asks that people have shared with me!!!! it means so much to know that you've gotten into dc, tim, and writing!!!!!!

and then that fic!!!!! onesided damitim is sooo good and always just hits slightly differently than other one-sided tim ships!!! tim's relationship to the family becoming strained because of his and damian's inability to "play nice". damian harboring secret feelings for tim as he grows older but never being able to process them well along with still holding onto the automatic hostility he feels for tim. as a kid the hostility had been genuine. his mother had told him about his place at his father's side being assured that the current 'robin' was just holding the position. damian believed that tim was going to be his intended wife and while in the league such a position would've demanded he respect drake...in gotham, unsupervised, and as a child he...he'd given into his resentment of tim. after learning that his position was not guaranteed, that his father hadn't even wanted let alone been interested in him as much as damian had been him...

taking his anger out on drake is easy because damian got to choose nothing in his life. he's coming to terms with his childhood being a lie, being denied a normal life- grayson comforts him through it and explains all the things damian hadn't even realized he'd lost. and then he sees drake and just sees another choice taken from him. that is his future wife. his future wife who dislikes him and then runs to father at every opportunity, who has father's ear, who does not want damian there. and so damian....young and full of anger...full of resentment throws himself into that hatred and rejection.

when he grows bigger...grows older its just something that is familiar. he doesn't hate drake much anymore. but having anything change and shift disturbs damian's tentative peace. and drake's continued insistence over the years about them being family. and not just drake pushes that but father as well. the only ones who don't are damian's siblings and they stop when they see how much it agitates him. they're the only ones who commiserate damian's misery at his future wife's continued insertion to his life. so...damian is resentful and unhappy with him. he talks down to him when no one looks, shoulders him when they pass each other in the hall, treats him coldly when the family demands they act civil, thrusts the burden of their relationship onto drake. drake is yet another cage for damian...until he's not.

until he reappears in the family's life after months of being in the wind despite grayson's repeated questioning to their father. turns out he wasn't in the wind. he was with father in one of the apartments scattered throughout the city and the two were doing their best to nurture drake's body to accept the baby in his womb. they'd been waiting to announce it, they'd been closely monitoring drake's health and making sure everything was alright before telling the family. drake is almost four months along but the only indication is the slightest swelling of his belly where his womb is nurturing father's child.

the rest of the family is taken aback, aghast even. but damian...damian is...aghast because...this...this isn't what is supposed to happen.

drake is...is HIS betrothed. drake is HIS intended and if father has decided to take drake for himself then...then what did that mean for damian? why had damian not known?

damian knows he'd stated multiple times how much he despised drake and didn't want him but..but that hadn't been REAL words. he'd just been inflating his words to better reflect his feelings, he often did that the rest of the family should know that!

damian knew drake would be his no matter what so he never bother to actually...process what that would look like. not until drake was already pregnant with someone else's child.

damian sees. he watches as drake turns gentle and sentimental. as he wanders the manor....glowing with pregnancy. the way he collects toys for his child, how he designs and decorates the nursery, the way he nuzzles with father and how father gently presses kisses to drake's mouth while his large hand covers the bump housing the...the child he put inside drake. drake is more certain. confident. he no longer scurries the corners of the manner like an uncertain mouse avoiding a housecat. he strides and side steps damian when they pass in the halls even though damian no longer tries to elbow or shoulder him when he passes.

the family slowly...warms to the idea of father and drake. as does the rest of gotham and the wider caped community. reservations are smoothed away and opposition dies.

suddenly no one has a problem with it. and father and drake do not hesitate to take it in stride.

they are closer...touchier...father always has a hand on drake. stroking his thigh or wrapped around his waist or kissing his neck.

one day damian gets up in the middle of the night for a drink and passes his father's bedroom, freezing as he hears the muffled gasps from timothy and the creaking of a bed. some deep animal part of damian starts to wail and howl at the realization of what he's hearing. something claws at the inside of his ribcage as he forces himself to keep moving. he returns to his bedroom and spends the night wishing for morning to come.

damian had never wanted tim. not until he realized he was gone. not until he realized that tim....had NEVER been his.

father lets it slip just how long his relationship with tim had been and damian has to excuse himself to go throw up.

on the day that damian's....younger brother is born damian is the only one not at the hospital. he'd had a math test that day and both father and grayson refused to let him miss it.

damian returns to a quiet house. even pennyworth is gone. its not until late when the hospital's visiting hours have ended that the family returns. all except father who managed to make the hospital bend the rules in exchange for a generous donation.

damian is nursing a flat soda and a half eaten pizza by the kitchen counter when grayson, so jovial and wet cheeked from tears, bounces in and beelines to damian to show him the pictures of a newborn cradled in an exhausted tim's arms.

tim is red cheeked, brow creased with exhaustion, and hair thick with sweat. but his eyes are bright as he gazes tenderly down at the sweet babe in his arms. a boy. a sweet little boy.

his name? damon.

grayson looks so tender as he says it, his smile blinding as he looks to damian, clearly eager to see his approval.

tim had insisted on the name, grayson explained. it was a peace offering to damian, some way to finally bury the hatchet that had always been between them by naming his and bruce's child after him.

it seems that damian is the only one that sees that name for what it really is. the rest of the family believes that its a kindness, a sweet gesture.

only damian knows of the pang in his heart at the pointed dig. if tim was not welcome in damian's family he would make his own with an entirely new damian as well.

timothy and the baby arrive home from the hospital a few short days later. and damian expects more of that cold war tension that had been going on but instead timothy ignores him entirely.

he's utterly besotted by his child and is unable to lend damian even a lick of attention. father is similarly infatuated with the child, holding and caressing them at the slightest noise they make.

the family makes jokes about father and his tender handed nervousness but they all know how desperately father had ached for the child. apparently, he'd been asking timothy for years to carry his child, nearly as long as they'd been together and damian...damian needs to sit down every time he thinks on it too long.

damian would normally be so vocal. so involved in his family's going ons.

but...ever since timothy announced his pregnancy damian had found himself falling more and more silent.

in the beginning he'd done his best to point a finger outward. to find someone or something else to blame for his misery...but in the end it all pointed back to one thing. one person.

himself.

he did this to himself.

the wife he'd resented and refused to cherish would now never be his.

and damian would now always be on the periphery. on the outside looking in. watching a family that would never be his.

#answered asks #asks #brutim #onesided damitim

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din-miller · 7 months

Note

Heyoooo! I’m not sure if you take requests, or if this is where your supposed to ask, it’s my first time doing so :’)

BUT

If you do, I was wondering if you could maybe wright an angsty fic, could be platonic or romantic, idm, but after a mission the reader dies similar to how aunt may dies in Spider-Man. Like, everybody gets out alive after a mission, and they’re about to head back on the ship r somthin and then BOOM, the reader falls. They don’t know the are dying and everyone is panicking(or just one of TBB for bonus individual trauma) then after a few, they die. One minute TBB have it all, the next, their world shattered.

Ofc your free to change as much as you want up, and you really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, it’s just a prompt I’ve been thinking about. Personally its just been nagging me for a while and I love your writing, and would really love to see it done (we all love some heavy angst, no?)

Again, if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine, just thought I could ask <333

Hello dear, sorry this took so long.

Full disclosure, I’ve never seen Spider-Man. I watched a few videos on YouTube. Both for the movie and the video game not knowing which death of Aunt May you had in mind. Thankfully you provided enough details in the request which helped me hugely!

Thank you for your love and support. It means the world to me ❤️

(Ps. You didn’t mention if you wanted the reader to have a specific pronoun so I’ve chosen to use she/her as the readers pronouns)

Go Peacefully, It’s Okay

Pairing: The Bad Batch + f!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: Character death, blood mentioned, female reader, fun sibling dynamics THEN hurt with not a drop of comfort to be found, platonic relationships, use of mando’a (translation at the end)

Sometimes everything you hold dear to your heart, can slip out of your fingertips without out a cause, without a warning, without an explanation

“Remind me when we get back to Ord Mantell, to tell Sid that being hunted by an unknown animal was not in the job description.” Tech grumbled, re-gaining his balance after tripping over a root hidden in the soil.

You laughed, dodging another tree branch as you raced past him, “I wasn’t aware Sid was handing out job descriptions.”

“It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t, we’d be broke if she did,” Hunter pointed out, “If you haven’t noticed, her missions are getting more dangerous lately.”

“Oh, come on, they’re not all bad,” You flinched when the creatures let out a loud roar, “See, even they’re agreeing with me.”

Your commlink beeped, Crosshair’s voice coming through the speaker, “Take the next left, you should be able to lose them in the tall grass.”

“Lose them?” Echo smirked, enjoying this more than he probably should as he jumped over a fallen log, dodging the sharp claws trying to shred his prosthetic leg into pieces, “The fun’s just getting started!”

“You can say that again!” Wrecker cheered, running beside you; Omega balanced on his shoulders, shooting her bow in hopes that it’ll slow the animal chasing them down.

“Has anyone found their weak spot yet?”

Of course nothing is ever simple with the Batch. The creature's skin ricochet any blaster fire and for the first time in history, Wrecker didn’t pack any explosives. Something he’s still evidently mad about as he complained very loudly: “No need for explosives, Tech said. It’s a peaceful planet, Tech said.”

“It was peaceful until you decided to awaken the den, Wrecker.” Tech pointed out, dodging another pounce from the creature behind him, “This plan isn’t working.”

“Crosshair, I thought you said we’d lose them in the tall grass, not attract more!” Echo growled, annoyed as his prosthetics creaked loudly, “You’ll be in charge of oiling my prosthetics when we get back.”

You let out a snort, because that'll be a sight to behold. The others laughed when all Crosshair replied with was a sneer. With a fond roll of your eyes, you opened your comm link, “I have an idea.”

“If past experiences have proven anything, those words have never been followed by anything good.” Typically Tech response.

“You got a better idea?” You asked, a tad judgemental, “Just trust me, okay. Hunter, grab Omega and run. All of you, out of the grass.”

“Copy,” Echo turned to brothers, “Race you to the ship, last one takes first watch tonight.”

Hunter’s helmet is focused on you and you know underneath it he’s giving you a pleading look to not do anything stupid. You just waved him away in response.

“I’ll be right behind you.” You promised and drew your blaster. He sighed and took off with Omega at his side.

As promised, you followed. Albeit a little further behind them as you shoot at the ground again and again, the blaster shot hot enough for the dry grass to catch on fire, forming a wall of flames that prevent the creatures from continuing their attack. As the fire builds and they begin to retreat, you let out a breath of relief. Then, with a huge grin, you threw your hands in the air, ”Victory!”

“Parjir!” Wrecker cheered, high-fiving the youngest Batch. The kid giggled and gave a cheer herself.

Hunter shook his head at them, but you can see the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, your name falling from his lips: “Behind you!”

Before you could turn around, your body is slammed to the ground. A vicious snarl came from right behind your ear and you winced at the loudness of it. You twisted your body and grabbed the blaster off of your belt. In the distance the boys are calling your name and without sparing a second thought you started firing into the creature's stomach, taking no pleasure in the pained screams it let out.

You laid your head back against the ground and tried your best not to gag at the smell and warmth of the blood seeping into your clothes. A second barely passed before a pair of hands pushed the animal off of you, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” You answered, letting Tech help you up, “Thank you.”

“Next time please eliminate all threats before celebrating.”

“I’ll make sure to triple check my surroundings.” You promised, brushing off the dirt clinging to your pants.

“That would be suffice, thank you.” He said dryly and you chuckled in response, amused with his way of speech.

While Hunter started checking Omega over for any injuries, you pulled Wrecker toward you to do the same. The biggest clone willingly allowed you to poke and prod at various body parts and he doesn’t even complain when you checked a second time despite knowing that other than a bruise or two, he’s fine.

“Your turn,” Wrecker gestured for you to turn around, but before he could begin his check, Hunter called for everyone to grab their packs and start moving out. Wrecker clapped his hands together with a giant grin, “Finally! The heat is killing me! I guess I’ll check you over once we’re back on the Marauder.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” You patted Wrecker’s shoulder and followed him to where the others started preparing for the trip.

You begin the journey back to the ship at Wrecker’s side but the longer you walked, the slower your pace became and eventually you fell behind. The fire is still roaring behind you, the warmth of it faint against your back and despite having felt like you’ve travelled miles, you're not even halfway back to the ship yet.

Echo slowed down to match your pace, arm brushing against yours, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Echo. I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off, that's all.”

“Should I get Tech? He’ll probably have a stim shot.”

“No, there’s no need to bother him. I just need a sec-,” A sharp spasm rippled down your back, the force of it knocking you over, your legs giving out from underneath you.

Echo caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist and you leaned into his embrace, head crashing onto his shoulder. Echo lowered both of you to the ground, “Help, we need help!”

Hunter dropped down beside you, helmet placed on the ground as his eyes scanned over your body, looking for injuries, but he can’t tell if the blood is yours or the creatures, “Echo, what happened?”

“I don’t know, we were talking and then she collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” Wrecker appeared beside Hunter, helmet also off, his brows knitted together, “Is she okay?”

You know what he’s thinking, it’s written across his face. He should have checked you over earlier and you know very well that thoughts like those never lead anywhere good, so you grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m okay, Wrecker. I just need a second.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Crosshair huffed impatiently. He’s out of your line of sight but you know he’s scowling, “Get up.”

“We have time to let her catch her breath,” Hunter surveyed the burning grass. The fire is steady and far enough that it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a few seconds, “When we get back to the ship, Tech is going to check you over, okay?”

Tech eyed the flames with caution, “For once I find myself agreeing with Crosshair. We don’t know what other animals the noise and fire might draw. We shouldn't stay here. It’ll be best to let Wrecker carry her to the ship.”

“First cardio, now a full upper body workout! It’s shaping up to be a good day after all.” Wrecker joked, but he couldn’t hide the anxiety that lingered in his words as he waited for Hunter’s permission.

Hunter nodded and moved out of the way, “Thanks Wrecker.”

“I got ya, ner vod.” Wrecker scooped you up, shifting you in his arms to get a better grip, only before he could find one comfortable enough for the both of you, he froze, his hold on you loosening until you were set back down carefully.

“Wrecker?”

“I-, she’s…,” He stuttered, taking several steps away from you until his back collided with a tree behind him. His eyes desperately searched for his brother, “Tech, she’s… oh maker, please no.”

You frowned, confused at his sudden behaviour. Tech seemed equally confused but he must have seen something in Wrecker's expression that you hadn’t, because suddenly he’s digging through his pack, searching for something of importance judging by the urgency of his movements.

You turned back to Hunter, “What’s wrong? What’s Tech doing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure everything is fine.” Hunter reassured, returning to his previous place beside you. His hand slipped under your shirt, fingers deftly prodding at your side until they stopped at the bottom of your rib cage, then he’s applying pressure against your skin, cursing as he yelled for his brother to hurry.

Echo grabbed his pack, emptying the contents carelessly onto the ground before lifting your head up and placing the pack on the ground as a cushion for you, “Just relax, everything is okay, you’re okay.”

Tiny footsteps made their way to where you’re laying and Hunter held up his hand, stopping Omega from coming any closer. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her but his words are directed at his older brother, “Echo, take Omega to the ship.”

“No,” Omega fought the hand that grabbed her arm, shoving Echo back, “What's going on? Why aren’t we moving?”

She looked at you, anxiously awaiting an answer and you're quick to reassure the small girl, “Need a sec’, I prob’ly inhaled too much smoke.”

Realising that she isn’t going to go willingly to the Marauder, Hunter sighed, “Omega, go check on Wrecker. That’s an order, kid.”

Omega pressed her lips together and for a second you thought she was about to argue but instead she listened and went to check on Wrecker. The bigger clone’s sat on the ground, head between his legs, but he welcomed Omega into his arms when she hugged him in an attempt to calm him down.

Hunter cocked his head towards the two, “Echo, keep an eye on them.”

“Yes, sir,” Echo stood up and laid a hand on Hunter's shoulder, his voice lowering to a whisper, “Take care of her, vod.”

Tech took Echo's place, a scanner held over your body and he adjusted his goggles in the way he does when something isn’t looking good. The muscle in his jaw twitched before he turned the scanners screen to Hunter.

You tore your eyes away from them and tilted your head back to watch as the fire curled up into the dawn sky. Red and oranges mix with the pale pascals, and the stars, so bright from here, so familiar, blur with every breath you take. You can’t help but let your eyes drift shut.

“Don’t do that,” Crosshair hissed, “Keep your eyes open.”

You blinked them back open and you’re a little surprised to see Crosshair kneeling down beside you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. When your eyes met his, the corner of his mouth turned up, “Good, keep your eyes on me.”

“Crosshair?” You leaned into his hand, seeking the comfort he’s providing despite his usual nature, “Why aren’t we movin’? Is someone hurt?”

“No, everything is okay,” Crosshair replied, but it’s through clenched teeth. Something he only does when he’s having to say something he doesn’t fully believe and/or agree with. He positioned himself criss-crossed above you and lifted your head, replacing Echo’s pack with his lap, “We’re just taking a break.”

Right, a break. A second to relax and catch your breath, that’s what you needed. You closed your eyes, even though you're pretty sure someone just told you not to, but there’s a heavy fog clouding your mind and you can’t remember who it was.

“I said to keep them open.” Crosshair, right, that’s who said it. The man who’s currently demanding you to look at him.

“Crosshair, keep her awake.”

You're able to open your eyes enough to watch as the sniper glared at Tech, “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Hunter’s fingers threaded through yours, “You can’t fall asleep, cyar’ika, okay? Hey, look at me, let me see those pretty eyes.”

The fading sun is too bright and your vision struggles to focus but you listened to his words and for that he gave you the softest smile, “There you are.”

“Wrec’ ok’?”

“He’s okay. We’re all okay. You just take another second to relax and don’t worry about anything, we have you.” Hunter pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Echo rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at his Sergeant, “You have to tell her, Hunter. You have to let her say goodbye.”

You want to ask what he means. Who’s saying goodbye by who. You want to ask why he looks so sorrowful, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate and your voice only comes out in weak gasps.

“Move,” Tech ordered Crosshair, taking his position to support your body up against his chest, helping the air fill your lungs, “Deep breaths, nice and slow.”

You tried to match Tech’s breathing, the strength in his inhale and the sturdiness in the exhale, but your lungs start to fail you as your breathing became weaker, your grip loosened but Hunter doesn’t let go. Not even when your eyes drift shut for the final time and your chest stills.

Hunter lowered his head, pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered a promise: “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

“Hunter?”

“Kid-,” Crosshair reached out for Omega, not sure if he was trying to comfort and protect her or hell, maybe even himself, as she dropped to her knees beside your body. It took everything in him to not walk away, far from here, but she needs him. His brothers need him.

They all watched helplessly as Omega finally noticed the blood pooling around your body, “She's bleeding! Tech, why are you just sitting there?! Help her!”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do, Omega. The wound was too deep, she was losing too much blood. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t believe that. There has to be something we can do!” She pressed her tiny hands against the wound while she begged through tears: “Wake up! Talk to me, say something, anything! Please, open your eyes!”

“Ad’ika, she’s gone,” Hunter swallowed around the lump in his throat, his lower lip quivered when he pulled the small clone into his arms, “She’s gone.”

Mando’a translation

Parjir. – Victory

Ner vod – My sister

Cyar’ika – darling/sweetheart

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum – Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.*

Ad’ika – Little one

#the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb omega #tbb x platonic reader #justice joy writes #tw: character death

67 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Note

I'll send somethin' for the kiss ask game prompts!

💕

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

(send a heart to make me write meme)

I'm just going to post this, because it's actually my second attempt. The first I'm going to save for the vampire Eddie fic I'm working on... Both are sad, because this is a rough week/month, and I don't feel like doubling this currently 1.2k word count on this to resolve it into a happy ending right now.

But I am open to suggestions on where to go with it, to keep in my back pocket for finishing it later.

They’re not dating, but Eddie spends a lot of time at Steve’s big house for someone who still technically lives in the local trailer park.

They’re not dating, but he lets Steve dote on him. Eddie shares his weed without even bothering to charge him anymore, which is a friendship perk that historically only his band mates enjoy; Steve, in turn, provides movies and meals and snacks in between.

They’re not dating, but when they’re both stoned as fuck they twine together on the couch, alternating who’s laying on who because it’s warm and nice and they’re both a little touch starved. It’s started happening even when Robin is there, and she keeps side-eyeing them like she’s waiting for some sort of announcement of What It Means.

Which is ridiculous because they’re just friends. Steve doesn’t even kiss him on the mouth; he kisses him everywhere else.

Like now, when Steve is sprawled half on top of him and half wedged in against the back of the couch, mouth on the soft part of Eddie’s shoulder. It’s all soft—all those snacks have done their work, all the lounging around Steve’s living room while still recovering from the Upside Down too, and Eddie is comfortable with this larger, well-padded version of himself. Steve’s kisses work their way gently down to his pecs, sucking one nipple into his hot, hungry mouth while teasing at the other with his fingers, cupping what could just about be called a tit in one hand—and it barely fits. One of Steve’s legs is draped over and shoved between Eddie’s, pressing against the one place he isn’t soft these days, and Eddie’s mouth is free as a bird to spout off whatever suggestive, pleading filth he wants.

Except he doesn’t, because they’re not dating and Steve isn’t his and he doesn’t know where the line is, doesn’t know where he’d have to stop and self-control isn’t exactly in his repertoire these days or he wouldn’t be not-making-out with Steve fucking Harrington. Eddie is far from silent though, letting out moans and gasps and pleading little whines, wordless but clearly saying keep going, keep doing that, never stop. And Steve, day after day, lazy afternoon after lazy afternoon, keeps obliging him. What had started as helpful belly rubs after a big meal has somehow evolved into this, and Eddie would be lying if he said that isn’t part of why he’s really been packing it on lately, because he’s a weak, weak man and it all feels so good. Feels so good to have Steve in any capacity, touching him, taking care of him, being so sweet and perfect and Steve.

So they don’t talk while they do things like this, and they don’t talk about it after, and it’s all fine because they’re not dating and Eddie can be content, he can be, with this arrangement.

Steve's lips are wet with spit and trailing down his chest now, scooting down on the couch, wriggling out and pressing Eddie more onto his back so he can drape over him fully, and it’s good. All the way down to where his shorts are unbuttoned—because that’s all it takes to set this off now, is Eddie reaching down to make himself a little more comfortable, and then Steve is on him—and nipping at where his belly starts to pooch out into a roll, gripping his thighs, sliding one hand up to grip him through the denim, and…

Something in Eddie’s head (or maybe his heart) snaps. It’s not fine. It’s undefined, it’s the elephant in the room, it’s nothing because they’ve never even tried to put a name to it, just shoved it in a corner and pretended it wasn’t there. And Eddie is sick and fucking tired of pretending. He almost died in March and life is too short to wallow in something he wants but can’t ever have, never moving on because there’s some comfort in the suggestion of having Steve like this, at least, but the comfort is ultimately hollow because, at the end of the day, he doesn’t have anything.

He reaches down, slides his fingers into Steve’s luxurious hair, and pulls. Just enough to get the guy’s attention away from tongue-fucking his belly button—Jesus H. Christ—and is only a little surprised when the tug elicits a moan. “Steve,” he tries roughly, and has to stop to clear his throat. “What are we doing?”

Never before has he seen Steve Harrington look so caught out. And Eddie had been there the day Steve had been caught making out with a cheerleader under the bleachers when he should have been leading the basketball team out into the school gym during a rally.

“I, uh.” His face is beet red, and maybe he wants to run but he can’t exactly go anywhere when Eddie has him by the roots. “I was just…”

When he doesn’t continue, Eddie sighs and shakes his head, letting go. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He’s trying so hard to pretend that this isn’t devastating, this yanking the plug that he should have pulled a long time ago before his heart filled up with it, and in its absence he’ll have nothing. Not even a friend, probably, because that’s what happens when you let yourself become some straight guy’s experiment. “I don’t want ‘just,’ Harrington, so… I think I’m gonna go.”

Steve is still hovering over him, frozen, but Eddie wriggles out until he can rock into a sitting position and starts to wedge himself back into his shorts—a difficult task, embarrassingly more because his dick has yet to get with the new program than anything else.

“I,” Steve tries again weakly, but Eddie doesn’t even pause in his efforts to button back up. Forget the zipper, he’s just glad he didn’t wear a cropped shirt today and can let it hang down to cover himself, which… sort of works. It’ll get him back to his van, at least.

“It’s fine,” he says, standing up without looking at Steve. “Just, next time there’s a movie night or something, be specific with the kids about whether or not you want me to come or they’ll invite me anyway. Wouldn’t want that surprise with all the witnesses, right? And if we do run into each other, I’ll take my cues from you on how to… handle it.”

As he says all this, he’s gathering up his stuff. It’s not much, a couple of notebooks and his lunchbox, which he’d brought over for their hangout smoke session… Really just code for ending up with an excuse to fool around. Nothing more than that, though. Steve has never even kissed him on the mouth.

Then he’s out of there, all his shit dumped haphazardly in the empty passenger seat and driving home, and Steve hadn’t even tried to stop him. He wonders if the guy is still crouched on his couch, looking shell shocked with his lips kissed red and a tent in his tiny basketball shorts. Wonders if that’s the last time he’ll ever see Steve, if that image is the one that’s going to follow him around for the rest of his life or if it’ll end up being something worse. Maybe he should move. That had always been the plan, blow this popsicle stand the second he got his diploma, but he’d stayed…

Well. He’d stayed for Steve, but he has to wonder now that the point of that was ever supposed to be, because.

It’s not like they’re dating.

now with a part 2 and part 3 - also on ao3

#steddie angst #wg steddie #chubby eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #scoops words #steviewashere #ask #wg not dating

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oh-snapperss · 1 year

Note

"look at the moon.." + ethubs for the writing prompts 👀?

hi leo!! oops i universe au coded this. my bad!

"look at the moon" + ethubs (x)

note: this is part of the universe au that i share with @team-clockers! you can find the rest of the posted parts of the au here.

Words: 882

CW: none!

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

“Bdubs, does the moon look big to you?”

“Heh?” Bdubs squints suspiciously over at Etho, who’s paused his work to stare over at the horizon with squinted eyes. The sun is just barely down, already past Bdubs’ bedtime–not that he really minded, not this once. They’d spent most the day plotting out their horse course, and honestly, Bdubs had struggled to sleep ever since they’d returned from last life. Call him crazy, call him weak–every time his eyes closed, his side was pierced by arrows, or hot air rushed by his face as he fell towards the netherrack, or the scream of the wither shattered his focus before agony tore through him and–

Yeah, maybe Bdubs wasn’t so timely on his sleeping habits. But nobody needed to know that! Five minutes here or there, nobody would ever notice. And here, now, when he had only just barely gotten to speak to Etho since returning from the game? He wasn’t about to complain about being up later… too much.

Even so, Etho’s starry eyes seem clouded, more so than normal, and his eyebrows are pinched together. Bdubs has to squint to even make that out, given the setting sun is just behind Etho’s head like some sort of strange, blinding halo. Hues of pink and orange streak out behind him, as the sunset starts to fade.

“The moon, Bdubs. Look at the moon.” Etho repeats, and this time Bdubs does so with a frown and a roll of his eyes. Etho has always been attached to the stars, dragging Bdubs out at the most ungodly of hours to point out new constellations forming, or older ones fading. (“Look, see? New stars there. And there. And one gone over there… wonder which world it was.”)

The moon is a normal size.

…or….

He tilts his head, studying each of the craters on its surface with careful consideration, trying to discern what might be different. A chill runs between his shoulder blades and he spins on his heel to face Etho again, somewhat glad the sun is below the hills now, so it won’t hurt to look at Etho. A few red streaks remain, reminiscent of the sky in the game, after so much blood had been spilt that the very sky seemed to be filled with it–

The moon. Look at the moon. Think about the moon.

“What about it?” …the craters. He shouldn’t be able to see the craters in such careful detail. “Seems normal to me!” He forces a grin, straightens his back as if to shake off the shivers racing up and down his spine.

“Seems big, doesn’t it?” Etho’s head is tilted too, eyes no longer squinted, but rather focused on the moon now behind Bdubs. This time of night, Bdubs never can tell which of the stars are reflected in Etho’s eyes, or which are there already. Maybe there’s no difference.

This time, when Bdubs cranes his head around to glance at it, he knows Etho is right. “Pshh, you’re bein’ ridiculous!” Don’t look at the moon. Don’t think about the moon. “It’s just a moon!”

“I know, but-”

“But it’s late, Etho. I gotta sleep!” Sleep is pronounced like shreep. Not because he needs to or thinks it should be, or really even wants to, but just–he doesn’t want to think about something else going wrong, not now, not when he’s only just gotten his Etho back and not when he can’t even get through a night without the nightmares or–

Etho’s gaze stays transfixed on the moon for a few moments more, but he drops it with a shake of his head to finally, finally catch Bdubs’ eyes. “I know, I know… king of sleep can’t be up late, right?”

“That’s right!” Bdubs puffs his chest out. There’s no pride or feeling in it. “King of sleep, you know I gotta, baby!”

Etho laughs, and it’s fuller than any breath of air Bdubs has taken the last few minutes. “Riiiight, of course, c’mon–” He holds his hand out, and Bdubs’ breath catches. “Wanna just sleep out here since it’s late? I think I’ve got a bed–”

“Yes!” Bdubs shocks himself with his enthusiasm, quickly trying to dial it back. “I mean, yeah, it’s late, I got a bed on me too, could stay here-”

Etho’s eyebrows aren’t so knitted together anymore, instead squinting at him with what Bdubs knows is one of those heartstopping smiles he hasn’t seen since the games. Even with the mask, he can tell. “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Bdubs breathes out, eyes wide. He places his bed (and if it isn’t facing the moon, who’s gonna say anything?) and Etho places his own right next, below the stars. There’s no roof, or anything, but for once, Bdubs couldn’t care less.

“It better not rain,” he comments anyways, as if he wouldn’t get soaked a thousand times if it meant Etho would stay.

“It won’t.” Etho responds easily, some kind of authority in his voice, and somehow… Bdubs believes him.

Perks of being the first player, he figures.

And when Etho tugs the old green blanket over them both, and pulls Bdubs as close as he’d been held in the games, Bdubs knows–

They’re gonna be okay.

(And the moon isn’t big.)

#ethubs #hermitshipping #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #etho #bdubs #the way i wrote this in thirty minutes flat #jesus christ i think i was possessed #help #my fics #son of stars au #hermitcraft

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notbecauseofvictories · 7 months

Text

Halloween Week of Horror (Games)

It’s that most horrible time of year, and I've decided to explore the spooky world of text-based games. My list of games is cribbed from this post and this post.

GAMEIFY HORROR // DAY 1

DAY 2: 13 laurel road, unbecoming, what girls do in the dark, the open house, return

13 laurel road

an interactive fiction game about the relationships we have with places and reconciling with trauma. You play as a young man named Noah who has been tasked with picking up some things from his cousin’s old house.

This one was surprisingly affective, given that there is no objective horror—no jumpscares, no mysterious noises, no ghosts beyond the perfectly ordinary ones that plague all of us.

Still, the set up (a young man, tasked with grabbing some things from the old family house) and the conclusion (coming to terms with the intergenerational cycles we fall into, giving you the chance to break free from them) worked wonderfully for me. In particular, I liked the way the game conveyed Noah's internal conflict---the refrain of "I won't think about that," and the way that you as a player aren't quite clear who is still alive as you move through the abandoned family home.

...I am a little disappointed that there weren't ghosts though.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 1/10, mostly for ambient horror and decay

OVERALL GRADE: B-

unbecoming

a sonically-textured interactive horror fiction exploring cycles of trauma and unspeakable forces of nature in a mythic rural American landscape.

Well, damn. I think that’s the second time I’ve put that in my notes, but also—damn. Damn does this game deserve it. Despite the lack of images (just text, white and sharp except when bleeding into red) it felt extremely well-realized, lived in. Maybe it's just because I know these places, have been to these farms, have looked at Dust Bowl photographs of children on buckling front porches, but the scenery was its own character---which is amazing when there's no actual scenery.

Not to mention that the story gets into one of my soft places and digs---the fraught ritual and cycles of repeated harm; the kind of blurry boundaries that make such effective horror. Family as obligation and a horror story you can't always escape. Not to mention how the gameplay makes you complicit in continuing that horror...

SPOOKY LEVEL: 5/10, not necessarily overtly, but uh. There is a giant hungering pit, and corpses in beds.

OVERALL GRADE: A-

what girls do in the dark

This little game is based off one of the greatest fears they had as a teenage girl: showing up late to a stranger’s slumber party.

Of all the games on this list, this was the first one that—as soon as the credits rolled—I immediately wanted to play again. I wanted to see if I could get a different ending, if I could somehow "win." There’s just something about those haunting scraps of “maybe you could have saved yourself...” that tantalize you, and make you want to try for a happier ending.

....not to mention that I have a well-documented weakness for deals with the devil.

I'll also add that the almost MS DOS style prompts ("TAKE [ITEM]" "OPEN DOOR") were devastatingly effective; a way of narrowing your choices while also giving you the illusion of choice.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 3/10, given the blood and the creeping horror

OVERALL GRADE: A-

the open house

We at Northtree Real Estate (in partnership with Optix Dynamix Labs) are proud to present our new, state-of-the-art, open house simulator! Come and take a quick tour of 15615 Hollow Oak Lane, a familiar and comfortable showcase home in one of our premier developments!

This particular game is just cool as hell. As someone who (like many millennials) has been addicted to Zillow and other house-hunting websites, this landed with immediate effect. What if scrolling through virtual walkthroughs on your local house hunting website opened up a portal to the unknown? What if it showed murders immediately after they were committed? What if, as you go further and further into this virtual house, you were going out---into something vast, unknown, and chilling?

Amazing, clever, wonderful.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 5/10, largely for unreality and a couple creepy images that still linger with me.

OVERALL GRADE: A

return

a text-based horror game about coming home

The more of these games I play, the more it becomes clear that what I like is horror that verges on the inexplicable—dream logic and images that refuse to resolve into reasonableness. I loved that here: the static, the mycelium, the pier with its strange dead-already fish, the self that guides you through the next cycle. What does it say about our horror stories if there is no going home? If it's just cycles of returning and rebirth and horror we can't escape?

(Sidenote, I am in love with Carver, and the little bit woven in about cybernetic/android assistive devices was tantalizing.)

Again, it's amazing how these text-based games manage to convey so much, so richly, with just words. Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 7/10, just because the sense of unreality is so strong, I wouldn't recommend it for anyone who doesn't enjoy that

OVERALL GRADE: B

#gameify horror #the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 8 months

Text

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: dirty talk, use of petnames ( sweetheart, princess, etc ), unprotected p/v sex, -wrap it before you tap it, darlings, swearing, mention of oral sex, body fluids, creampie -because Harrington has a weak pullout game, kissing/saliva and just a pinch of biting/marking. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt two - lovemaking

character | fandom - steve harrington | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, roommate & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.2k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . a storm. your roommate Steve decides to take your mind off of said storm. just a lil soft and oh-so sweet tender lovemaking, ftw✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

❝ Its just a storm, woman.❞ Robin’s laugh on the other end of the line has you pouting. Holding a red telephone away from you as you flip it off.

As the lights flicker throughout the apartment, you shriek. . ❝ That was my freaking ear, good Lord. Relax.❞ Robin's coaxing doesn't do a thing to soothe your frazzled nerves though.

There's only one person who can but he's working late tonight and if I were to tell him storms freak me out -or anything I may or may not be keeping from him lately, pretty sure it's only going to mess up everything. - the thought is frustrating for you because lately, telling him everything is all you seem to want to do. The urge to do so has gotten so bad that you're trying as hard as you can to keep a healthy distance from Steve.

This storm just might have the potential to undo all of your efforts, especially if it worsens - and God forbid there's a blackout, you pause and glare up at the overhead lights in the kitchen as they choose that exact second to flicker even more. The loud clap of thunder and the way strong wind gusts send a branch right into the fire escape outside, a violent crash both ways is met with another scream from you.

❝ Steve should be there in another hour. With Keith in the store, it takes at least thirty minutes for Steve to close. But then your big, strong, manly man will be home.❞ Robin’s taunting you, snorting in laughter through loud static on the line, as she throws in, ❝ Y'know…you could do something. He's always been a sucker for the damsel in distress thing. He needs someone to do something. He's been real down lately.❞ she pauses.

You sigh, shaking your head despite your best friends inability to see you. You know what she's saying is true. What she doesn't seem to understand is that you've tried. Too many times to count. But the words always get hung in your throat or it's not a good time, it's not the right time, he's heading out the door on another of his dating attempts. It's frustrating for you, but you have tried. In the only ways you know how. If only subtle worked.. - you think to yourself, pacing the living room of the apartment you share with Steve as the storm picks up even more outside, the lights inside the apartment flicker even more.

❝ Gee, I wonder why that is..❞ she hints again.

But as usual, you don't pick up on the not-so subtle hint and you muse aloud, ❝ I don't know. Maybe his date with that girl he talked about didn’t go the way he wanted it to? He's definitely seemed moodier lately..❞ as you pout a little.

You’re selfishly glad it didn't work out but you're also sad for him. You love him and you hate to see him hurt or upset. And Heidi had been all wrong for him from the word go, your own personal opinion.

❝ Or…hear me out, woman..❞ Robin counters, a pause to rub the bridge of her nose as she thinks of the best way to clue you in, hoping that maybe this time you'll believe her, ❝ Maybe it's because he thinks that you, the girl he really wants, isn't interested. Maybe that's the reason?❞

You laugh. ❝ Right. And I'm actually Madonna, I swear on the Bible. He doesn't see me like that, Robbie. If he did, it'd be painfully obvious by now how I feel about him.❞

Robin grumbles, it's something about how impossibly stubborn you happen to be and in the midst of all that, the power goes out. The bad storm outside is downright nasty now, winds howling as the thunder rolls, constant.

You don't even get the luxury of a dial tone when the power goes, you're left holding the landline in your hand as you jump at every single little noise.

❝ God I hope he's safe coming in. The sooner, the better.❞ you mumble to yourself as you flop back against the couch dramatically.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･｡ﾟ ───

It felt as if Keith wasn't ever going to shut the fuck up. And then, because of course that's how it'd go, Steve thinks to himself as he rushes through closing procedure so he's not out in the worst of the storm that's rolled into town -and so he can rush home to you, where he'd rather be to begin with, Robin rushes in, whatever she's got to tell him is apparently life or death and no, it absolutely can't wait until their next shared shift.

❝ Steve!❞ Robin throws up her hands, exasperated because she can tell he isn’t listening to her, ❝ Were you listening to me at all?❞

❝ Yeah?❞ he replies, sheepishly. ❝ Okay, alright. Sorry! Look, can't you just try to tell me I'm wrong and I'm an idiot tomorrow? When there's not a goddamn storm outside?❞

He makes a step to the door but Robin blocks him and she's ranting, going on and on about how the two of you are the most stubborn individuals she's ever had the pleasure of knowing.

❝ Just say it, Robin.❞ Steve murmurs, gazing at his best friend, throughly confused.

❝ She’s in love with you, idiot! ❞ Robin blurts it out as she thrusts a piece of paper that you'd doodled on earlier in the week when you came in to hang out with her on his day off at him and nods to it, ❝ If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t constantly doodle her first name and your last all over everything! Girls..we don't uh..we don't do that unless we're head over heels, idiot! She does it all the time! And she's always waiting up when you’re out with the guys or some random girl. She constantly talks about you.. I'm telling you, she really loves you, shes just…scared.❞

Steve stares at the sheet of paper with the Family Video letterhead on top of it, dazed.

❝ She’s at your apartment and when I talked to her a few minutes ago, this storm had her freaking out. Do something, idiot. She won't because she's scared it's going to make things awkward.❞

❝ Wait…what do you mean, freaking out?❞ he's concerned as soon as Robin hints that there's something wrong, that you're even a little scared right now.

Robin shakes her head and laughs. ❝ Storms, Steve. She’s scared to death of storms. Kind of happens when you've lived through a hurricane and at least 10 tornaodes.❞

Steve gapes at this. One of his hands raises, fingers tug at shaggy brown strands as he inhales deep and then exhales slowly. Like he's just gotten the breath knocked right out of him. And in a way, he has.

❝ She’s there.. Waiting for me..❞ Steve questions. Robin nods, ❝ All alone in this storm. Scared.❞ she places heavy emphasis on the fact that you're alone and scared because she knows you both entirely too well at this point. He needs to feel strong. Protective. Whenever he gets all strong and protective, it melts you completely.

Steve blows out a ragged breath. A hand rested against the back of his head as he stares down at the doodled piece of paper.

Your first name and his last.

It fits together so perfectly. Everything falls into place and he looks at Robin. ❝ You.. You’re not kidding.❞

❝ No, dingus! Just go! I'll take over tonight. Just go! Do something or I swear to God..❞ Robin laughs as Steve pockets his keys and grabs his jacket in a rush, nearly walking straight into the closed door of Family Video in his hurry to get to you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･｡ﾟ ───

The power is out and the storm is getting so much worse. You’re pacing the living room, pausing every few seconds to stare out the big window that leads to the fire escape as you hug yourself.

❝ God, I just hope he's okay and he doesn't let Billy or Tommy or Eddie con him into going out in this crap after his shift.❞ you mumble to yourself, shrieking as the lightning strikes the tree across the street.

You're so caught up in the storm and freaking out about it that you don't hear the door when Steve unlocks it from the outside. Or the way he pauses to call out your name because the rumbling thunder drowns out his voice.

But he hears you just as you've shrieked at how close the lightning is getting.

Strong arms circle your waist from behind and you jump, shrieking again with a dirty look as Steve turns you around and shines the old red flashlight beneath his chin, just barely illuminating the lower portion of his face. He chuckles and as the husky sound fades, you pout up at him.

❝ Are you okay?❞ - he's quieter when he asks, honey eyes so tender as they fix on you in concern. He’s chuckling too but only a little.

He doesn't like the thought of anything scaring you.

❝ Y-yeah.It's dumb.❞ you laugh, the sound quiet, a sheepish shrug as your head tilts just the slightest to look up at him. ❝ You'd think after I lived through a hurricane on the coast and at least ten tornadoes, this.❞ you gesture to the raging storm outside the big window, ❝ Wouldn’t bother me at all.❞

❝Hey, hey.❞ he coaxes as he pulls you against him, ❝ You’re okay. Its okay.❞ and the way his hand skims over your back sends a shiver racing through you. You pull away a little to look up at him and nod. Through shaky breaths, you mumble ❝ I..I know.❞ -the sound is muffled because a louder clap of thunder sends your head into his chest as you seek comfort.

His fingers drag through your hair and for a minute or two, he stands in the darkness, holding you close. He's not saying a word and neither are you at first but then the silence is too much, it's too thick and you just can't take any more. You pull away a little and he frowns to himself because he misses the soft warmth of you pressing against him.

❝ I'm..❞ you pause. Take a deep breath or two and stare up at the way the moonlight and lightning highlight a strong and stubble-lined jaw.

❝ You’re what?❞ Steve questions, fingers tuck beneath your chin to get you looking up at him again. ❝ C'mon. I can’t help if I don’t know whats wrong.❞

❝ I..I'm glad you’re here right now and...❞ you're stumbling over your words and trying to make your usual internal filter work but it's just about gone, you manage a quieter ❝ Nevermind..its probably dumb t' say.❞

He tilts your chin upward again because you're looking down, a steady gaze fixed on his chest. You can't help it, the more you look at him, the harder it is not to completely bare your soul. ❝ No, just say it.❞ he coaxes. When you try, the words that have been threatening to burst out, those three big ones, they're lodged in your throat and it's frustrating for you, so very frustrating.

❝ You are, huh?❞ he chuckles to himself after a few seconds of the thick silence, the sound dying out quietly as he stares down at you. What you said, that you're glad he's with you, that starts to sink in. And he’s on autopilot.

❝ Yeah. I was worried you'd be stuck driving in the worst of it. Or you'd let one of the guys talk you into drinks again tonight. ❞ you mumble quietly as you take a deep breath. ❝ I always worry about you when you're out...❞

His heart is so goddamn full when you say it that he thinks it just might explode. ❝ You were, huh?❞ he questions as he makes you look up at him all over again, ❝ I wanted to come home. To make sure you were okay.❞ he admits, going quiet for a few seconds.

You're the one stunned silent, you blink at him in surprise as you try to process what he's just saying. He wanted to come back. To the apartment. To make sure you were alright.

You try to give him just a little space as you tell yourself he obviously meant it in a friendly way, not the way you wish, the way a concerned lover would mean what he's just said. You pulling away has him frowning to himself in the semi darkness.

❝ Where are you going,hm?❞ his voice husky, full of affection that he can't just keep holding back. He pulls you close all over again and he can feel the fast thudthudthud thud as your heart hammers against your chest. He can feel the way you're shaking just barely.

Robin is right he thinks to himself one of us needs to say something. Do something. And I can't fight anymore.

You breathe in the scent of his cologne, the faint trace of cigarette smoke and buttery popcorn that clings to the scratchy green Family Video vest he's yet to take off. And you’re trying so hard not to invade his space any more than he allows but he pulls you even closer and before you can stop yourself, you're melting into him. Strong arms wrap around you tighter.

❝ Nowhere, I..I just thought..❞ your words are cut off by his mouth as it crashes against your mouth, clumsy. Sweet. You can taste the cigarette and soda on his breath and it takes a second but you realize what's happening and melt into him even more, your hand raised and raking through damp brown hair as your mouth falls open, willing.

Steve bends down slightly, hands on your ass as he pulls you up his body. The kiss deepens, you're breathing for each other now and one of your hands settles soft against his stubbled cheek. He nuzzles against your palm as he steps over to the sofa and sinks down, arranging you in his lap.

His hands are all over you, his nose brushes against your neck as he nuzzles some fallen hair out of his way. Your breath catches in your throat as rough lips dance hot against your pulse, latching against soft skin here and there.

You're shifted forward in his lap as he makes a clumsy attempt to adjust himself and pull you closer at the same time. When you whine out softly against his neck as your lips stray from his, he pauses, staring up at the way you're perched on his lap. The moonlight highlights your delicate features and he’s mesmerized by you, a hand leaves its resting place on your ass to settle against the column of your neck. Before he can stop himself, he's leaning in, his mouth crashing against yours, devouring as a groan leaves his lips to hang in the air, followed by a whine from you as you squirm around in his lap, desperate for the friction you were getting a few minutes ago.

You're the one who deepens the kiss, your small, soft hand rested up against his neck to pull him in. His hand leaves your hip to card through and pull lightly at your thick hair as he deepens the kiss even more.

His other hand slips between your joined bodies as you pull apart to breathe, staring at one another wide-eyed and in awe. It settles beneath the hem of the shirt you've sneaked out of his laundry to sleep in most nights lately.

❝ Steve?❞ - you breathe his name out against his mouth as another loud pop explodes outside and sends you straight for the safety that only he has ever seemed to offer you. Your face is buried in his neck for a few seconds and he attempts to adjust himself, thick digits dig in against your thigh and lower back when you squirm a little, his cock pulsing, pushed against the zip of his favorite jeans. ❝ Yeah?❞ - his breath tickles your neck, the sound of his voice thicker, desire dripping from the word.

He tilts your chin, gets you looking up at him. He's barely hanging on, his restraint is a thin thread that frays just a little more every time you rub yourself against him or your lips graze his neck just right. ❝ What’s up, princess?❞

❝ I-I..❞ the words hang in your throat just shy of saying them. It's frustrating because all you want to do is tell him how much you love him.

❝ You what, hm? C'mon, you can tell me.. I-I mean it. You can tell me anything, okay?❞ he mutters, dipping his mouth, placing soft little pecks against your face and neck as the hand on your thigh slips under the shirt you're wearing, tenderly caressing, the touch of his hand making you whimper and rock yourself against him. He bucks himself up into you, a hand raised to brush some hair out of your eyes.

❝ I love you.❞ it finally slips out and as it does, so does the rest that you've held back for weeks now. ❝ I love you.❞ he mutters, his lips dance down your throbbing pulse as he murmurs quietly, ❝ I love you too, princess..❞ his lips latch against your skin, ❝ so, so much.❞ looking up to lock eyes with you before giving a glance to the marks he's left against your skin.

His hand creeps higher, when he starts to rub you through your panties, he growls quietly when his hand comes away wet, bucking himself up into you. ❝Want you so bad, princess.❞ he mutters, dazed as he stands, you wrapped around him, breathless. Muttering his name like he's your God and you're worshipping him. ❝ Lets see if we can take your mind off the storm, baby.. do you want me to help you do that?❞

You nod, back up against the cool wooden door, the knob poking at your side and your legs around his waist. His hands -and mouth, are all over you as he ruts himself into you, the battle with his restraint lost.

❝ Please?❞ you gasp out as you rub against him clumsily. He's marked up your neck and no doubt, come the morning, there will be a few handprints left behind against your skin because he's holding onto you and squeezing you like your lives depend on it.

The storm is forgotten, you're tossed gently onto his bed as he follows you down, his body engulfing yours, holding your legs apart by the way he settles between them. The Family Video vest finds its way to the floor and everything is happening fast and yet, not fast enough. He’s tugging down pretty pink cotton and as your panties settle on his bedroom floor, he leans down into you closer, a hand between your thighs, ❝ I did this..❞ he murmurs against your ear as soon as he feels the way you're already dripping for him. He's dazed, he hasn't really done anything to you yet and there's already a little wet spot forming below you on his bed. And you're so responsive, every touch or kiss, every time he squeezes and rubs your warm, wet sex you're whining, you arch yourself towards him like he's not as close as he can get already.

❝ You’re wearing too much.❞ you whine out against the shell of his ear in frustration as your legs circle his waist and you keep trying to rub against him to chase the friction you've gotten so desperate for. Your hand finds the bottom of the snug fit brown and cream striped polo he wore to work and you're trying to tug it upward. Steve chuckles quietly as he raises up, pulling off his shirt.

The polo settles on the floor of his bedroom beside your discarded panties and he settles himself back down against you, his lower body keeping your legs open wide as his mouth strays from your mouth and his lips latch against your pulse, suction forming a bruise you can feel as he sucks your neck, marking you.

❝ — ah fuck.❞ he growls quietly as he ruts himself against you, chasing his own friction. ❝ W-wanna taste you, princess.❞ his breath is warm against your skin, soft pecks fall from rough lips, settling on your soft and warm skin. His hands linger at the bottom of the soft golden colored sweater you stole from him to wear. You bite your lip as you stare up at him, begging. His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer, urgent; needy.

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up as he works the oversized sweatshirt over your head, letting it fall from his fingertips and settle on his bedroom floor with the other clothes.

You go for the button on his jeans and there's this cute little shy smile you give as the two of you lock eyes while you're doing it that drives him wild.As you unzip his jeans, he gasps because your hand grazes against the way his cock is straining against soft navy cotton, begging to be freed. His head falls back for a second or two, honey eyes flutter closed as you just barely drag your finger over the thick outline.

That's how you find yourself pushed back against the bed seconds later as soon as he's kicked jeans and boxers free from his ankles.

You swallow hard, eyes roam his body slow. Desire making your pupils big enough they blot out the usual color of your irises. It's the first time anyone has ever looked at him with more than temporary lust in their gaze. He’s pushed you against his bed now, you were so caught up in staring at the man you love that you never saw it coming when it happened.

One hand pins your wrists above your head as his other hand squeezes your curvy little body and he takes in the way it feels to cage you in beneath him, skin against skin and the cookie sweet scent of your cheap perfume filling his lungs as he nuzzles into your neck and breathes it in deep.

He rocks himself against you, the thick length of him dragging right between your folds and when you shiver and whine, he raises up, hand leaving your hip to caress your cheek as he stares down at you, in awe. ❝ So pretty, baby.❞ he mutters as he settles down into you all over again, the tip of his length teasing you, making that white hot ache that's built up inside of you boil over.

❝ You’re the pretty one.❞ you mumble softly as your lips latch against his hot skin. Your soft,full lips against the top of his chest -right over the way his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it feels so good that he gasps quietly.

He releases his hold on your wrists because he'd rather be holding your hand. His fingers lace with yours and he takes a little nip at your bottom lip when he goes in for another kiss, a string of saliva keeping your mouths connected after you break apart to breathe.

❝ Don't let me hurt you, princess.❞ he mutters soft against your ear as he settles himself down into you fully, his thick length pushing into you, drawing a gasp out as you feel the burn of being stretched out.

He feels you tense up slightly and he stops right away, making you whine in need as you pout up at him. ❝ I don’t wanna hurt you.❞ he murmurs as he presses hot and gentle kisses and bites against your bare skin, leaving his mark behind as many times as he can because he wants everyone to know you’re taken, you’re his girl now, absolutely no doubt.

❝ Please? I-I..I need you now, Steve.❞ you beg as you try to rock yourself up into him as the burning subsides and its replaced by all the dopamine you’re currently flooded with being thisclose to the man you love, the feel of his body engulfing yours. Steve starts to fuck into you and its slow, its gentle and so deep that every inch of him is felt as he buries inside you.

You raise a hand, letting it catch against his cheek and he laughs softly, nuzzled against your palm. His forehead settles against yours.

The way you clamp around him so tight has him groaning your name with each lazy little thrust. He tries to speed up a little but he can feel himself getting closer so he comes to a slow stop, kissing you long and deep enough to totally steal your breath.

The nasty storm outside has been completely forgotten and it's come to a slowdown, the loud and angry thunder replaced by the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows. Neither of you notice or care, too focused on what's happening between the two of you instead.

You meet his deep thrusts with clumsy little rocks, your hips meeting his perfectly in sync. ❝ S' good f' me, baby. So so good.❞ he grunts against your neck as he bottoms out, cock pushing against the spongy softness of your g-spot as your nails dig against his shoulders and rake over his back. ❝ Gonna cum f' me, princess? That's it, cum all over my cock.❞ and the command is all it takes to send you crashing, your orgasm blinding as it washes over you and you cling to his body, moaning his name as you clamp around his cock and nearly push him straight into his own orgasm.

❝ Let go, Steve. Cmon baby.❞ you coax because you're dying to feel him come undone, you want him to fill you up. He bites your lip and his thrusts get clumsy as he fucks through his own orgasm, hot seed painting your insides. He falls to the bed beside you, spent. You’re pulled on top of him and he wraps you in his arms, pulling you down against him completely.

❝ You’re amazing, princess.❞ he mutters softly just as you're both starting to doze off..

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✓ )#lazyghoulskinktober2023 #🔞ɴғᴡ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪsᴋ.

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rcreveal · 2 months

Text

An Adjustment

Aziraphale meets Crowley at a crossroads in medieval England because of the Arrangement, but finds that there's something he really wants to adjust. This takes place after the Arrangement started in 1020 and before the Globe Theater. It’s prompted by my writer's group: @theriverspath’s question about how long Aziraphale has been preening Crowley’s wings from a little exchange the two share in my “Spring Cleaning” fanfic, @moons weakness for wing grooming fics and the prompts: “How we began again, with an illicit bargain.” and “The Arrangement”. Also inspired by @skyler’s description of Crowley as “grabable”.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

On a windswept moor a solitary figure trudged up the steep slope using trails of broken slate that slipped under his feet. The late winter sunshine would be brief and the storm crowding the horizon promised to be prolonged. Finally rounding the last bend to see the top of the isolated hill and the person waiting for him, Aziraphale spake thusly to himself, “Blow this for a lark! I pray that I win the toss this time!” before reaching the demon at the crossroads.

Crowley was hopping from foot to foot, grinning madly. When he saw the angel, he threw his arms wide to take in the desolate hill, the threatening storm, and the little village huddled near the local castle down in the valley. “Lookit! This place is perfect! I even found a crossroads and everything! Both the temptation and the …other thing are due to stumble through here at the height of the storm!” Clapping his hands together, he propositions, “So what do you say to a little wager?” the demon was still jigging around, apparently eager to beat Aziraphale at a game of chance…again. It was really getting on the angel's nerves.

“Fine, but I'd like to choose the game of chance,” the angel grumped a little.

“S’fair. You lost the last time.”

“ Three times.”

“Three times, three times, right. Really? So whadda ya chose?”

“Coin toss with my coin this time.” Aziraphale said a bit acerbically, pulling out an old Roman coin.

“Show me both sides, jus’ like I did for you,” Crowley insisted, still gamboling in place.

Aziraphale huffed in exasperation but made a show of demonstrating both sides of the coin, “And look, nothing up my sleeves!” He pushed up his sleeves baring his forearms. Heavens it was brisk out today!

“Call it.” Aziraphale said as the coin sparkled into the air and he caught it and slapped it down onto his bare arm.

“Tails, cuz I'd never ask an angel to choose to be an arse,” Crowley said with an ironic smile, still gyrating about.

“Crowley! That's uncalled for! Serves you right, you fiend, you lost this time! I'll see you at the tavern when you're done for the details. Good day to you!” Aziraphale spun on his heel and started to stomp down to the valley hearing Crowley’s frustrated groan.

Such a stream of swears came from Crowley that the air literally sparked and flared with sulfur and brimstone. Wheeling back on the demon and waggling a finger at him, Aziraphale admonished, “You lost! Swearing won't get you out of it, and will you stand still while I'm talking to you! ” Aziraphale shouted, beside himself at Crowley's continued capering.

“Can't. Stand still. Itches, too much!” Crowley whined, his face strained, moving his neck irritably.

“What is wrong with you!?” Aziraphale demanded, “You're usually more composed than this!” Usually, the demon was smoothly confident, no hair or garment out of place. Now he looked, well he looked haggard, frankly. “You look awful!”

Crowley’s face scrunched and he mumbled, “Got a thing with a feather,”

Cocking a hand to his ear, Aziraphale asks, “Come again?”

Louder this time, Crowley intones, “I have a thing with a feather !

“Well fix it, so you can meet your part of the Arrangement!”

“Can't reach,” explains Crowley.

Aziraphale huffs impatiently, “Then miracle it. Surely you can heal yourself!”

“Yah, but not this one!” complains Crowley.

“That's the absolute last straw!” Aziraphale cries, “Out with them!”

“Wot!?”

“Out with your wings! I want to see this ‘feather!’” Aziraphale stands with hands on hips, mumbling to himself, “If there even is a feather.”

“I heard that!” Crowley stomped around and threw his coat onto the ground, “Don't believe me?” his black wings strain out of his back, “Lookit that!” he stretched his right wing towards the angel. And indeed, in the most awkward place to reach is a patch of feathers that are either broken or twisted.

“Crowley! You're bleeding!” Aziraphale has closed the distance and uncovered a broken feather, bleeding slowly but steadily and some twisted feathers and irritated pinfeathers? Maybe blood feathers? but he only catches a glimpse before Crowley mantles and hisses at him, pulling the wing out of reach.

“I didn't say you could touch it!” the demon snarls.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath through his nose, blue eyes flashing towards the incapacitated demon scratching his wings against each other and the incipient weather. His desire to win this contest warring with his instincts to help. He lets out a long breath and suddenly regains his composure. He can do both!

“Fiend! I’ll thwart your wiles!” he cries.

“What are you nattering on about? We already settled this! I’ll stay out here in the weather and you’ll be cozy indoors somewhere. Fair toss and all that.”

“You may tempt his Lordship with a “falcon”, but I can’t condone leaving it hurt like that! I insist that you bring that creature to the mews so I can mend those feathers!” Aziraphale is pointing at Crowley and winking.

“Wot?”

Dropping out of the pantomime, “I’m his Lordship’s falconer, Crowley!” Aziraphale said a little exasperatedly, “I said bring the “falcon” with the injured feathers to me and I’ll fix them! So the “falcon” can do its duty. Come now!”

“You want to fix my…?”

“Just get the, the “creature” to the mews. Immediately! Or I’ll have to take steps!” Aziraphale blustered.

Crowley looked at the angel open mouthed, then started to hop up and down with his fists balled at the sides.

“Oh, right, you got me, angel,” he says stiltedly, “I’ll bring you the “falcon” and you’ll fix its feathers?” ‘ How?’ mouthed Crowley.

‘Trust me!’ mouthed Aziraphale.

“You go first, demon! I’ve got my eyes on you!” Aziraphale ushered the demon ahead of him. “Pull in your wings!” he whispered.

“But it itches less with them out,” Crowley grumbles. Craning over his shoulder as he walks by, he offersd. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I'll just stand here with them out till the storm comes. Everyone will think it’s just one of those wretched swan cloaks. Really, I’ve got it covered,” he’s reaching back to scratch.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale remonstrates, slapping his hand.

Crowley pulls in his wings and goes back to his itchy dance down the moor to the castle mews with the angel shooing him onwards.

Sitting uncomfortably in the back of the dimly lit mews, having sidled past all manner of hooded raptors, Crowley asks, “You’re really the falconer here?”

Bustling about with pots of glue, dowels, some wicked looking pliers and knives, Aziraphale assures, “Oh yes! I’ve been doing falconer work off and on for centuries!” arranging his tools, “There. Now let out “the falcon’s” wings again. I’ll fix them up, then you go do what you were going to do.”

Crowley unfurls his wings.

Aziraphale reaches for the damaged patch, lifting the feathers gently and sucks at his teeth.

“That hurts!” Crowley snarls. All Crowley’s feathers puff out and he snatches the wing away. Aziraphale spends a fruitless few minutes trying to catch Crowley’s wing, with many a “Will you settle down!?” and “Not if you’re going to hurt!” and “If you’d hold still it’ll hurt less!” and “I am holding still!”

Finally at the end of his patience, Aziraphale raises a hand over the demon as though he really were a tetchy raptor and intones, “ SETTLE DOWN!”

“Did you just try to work a miracle? On m…” Crowley starts, incredulously.

“No! It was nothing like that!” Aziraphale yelps, thinking, ‘It was exactly like that, why hadn’t it worked? Oh right.’

“Even if an angel ever did try to work a miracle on a demon, I expect they would need the demon’s permission. Look, can you do anything to calm “the falcon” down?” Aziraphale asks.

“Got any alcohol? It’s partial to a good red wine,“ Crowley retorts cheekily.

Aziraphale rummaged under his bed and came up with a leathern flask that smelled of apples. “No, but the locals ferment apple cider around here,” the angel tops off a smallish horn cup, and offers it to the demon.

Crowley takes the horn cup with a sneer, “Quaint. You think you’re going to get me drunk on apple juice?” and empties the cup in one gulp. When his eyes water and he coughs, a small fireball erupts over the candles for a moment. Eyeing the liquor through streaming eyes, Crowley wheezes, “What do the locals call this stuff?”

“Scumble. Word to the wise, don’t ever pour it in metal.”

“Why?” asks Crowley.

“Scumble dissolves metal,” explains the angel matter of factly.

“I think I’ll take another draft,” Crowley says with a grin.

Some time later, Crowley was draped bonelessly over the back of a chair, to say he was in his cups was an understatement, but it certainly made him pliant. About the feather work.

Just now Aziraphale had rendered him incoherent with an old joke about a Mesopotamian pastry, a popular Greek play, and a Roman urn.

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Crowley finally dissolved into hiccups,“Ya know wha’ ‘m sayin’, angel? Right?”

“Oh, certainly!” Aziraphale found that he'd been having quite a convivial time. They had been sharing jokes and anecdotes that spanned thousands of years and dozens of civilizations. Burying the thought that he was giving ‘aide and succor’ to the ‘enemy’ was easier since that enemy was acting like any other hurt bird he'd cared for. Crowley had initially mantled, hissed, snapped, rattled his pinions, growled, snarled, and sworn whenever the angel had gotten anywhere near the bad feather. Which was still dripping blood onto the floor. But finally alcohol and Aziraphale's gentle ministrations were having the desired effect. The ‘falcon’ had settled enough that the skin around the bad feather just shivered when the angel touched it. Aziraphale pondered while his hands busied themselves with the damaged feathers: So Crowley couldn't heal that feather himself for some reason, but he could ‘build himself up’ and he hadn't done. That troubled Aziraphale, as he'd seen such injuries take the last of some bird's strength.

A cold little thought suggested itself, ‘What if Crowley…left and didn't come back?’

Lose contact with the only being in heaven or on earth who would reliably laugh at his jokes? That…wasn't acceptable. Anyhow, there were meant to be both of them, endlessly opposite, ah, …opposed to each other.

Aziraphale noted that Crowley had drunk enough that the demon kept forgetting how he'd started a sentence, so on to the hard bit.

Aziraphale opened with, “Now, I’ve cleared out the pinfeathers and imped…,”

“Imped?” Crowley giggled.

“ Splinted the bent feathers. But the broken blood feather will have to come out. You’re…”the falcon” is just going to keep bleeding!” argued Aziraphale.

“Ngghh,” finger raised, “Stops event.. ually. When it grows in,” disagreed Crowley.

“And how long does that take, pray?”

“Praying doesn, doesn’t help, angel. Doncha know? Tha’ featherrrr takes as long as it takesss.”

“Well it needs to come out! Do I have your permission?”

“Wha?” Crowley looked over at the angel blearily.

“Do I have your permission to fix this blood feather?” Aziraphale persisted.

“Yah, do wha’ever you like. ‘S not gonna make it worse,” Crowley laughed, flapping his hand vaguely at his wing.

Aziraphale went very still. That was far more leeway than he thought Crowley intended, but…he grabbed the opportunity (and the demon), anyway.

“Let’s get you comfortable on the bed!” he said airily, grasping the languid demon under his arms. “You might get a little light-headed when I deal with this.” Aziraphale quickly shifted Crowley towards his bed, the demon was anything but steady with the sudden move, chuckling “‘’m flyin’” as the angel steered him around in a controlled fall onto the bed, landing him safely belly down and ebony wings all a clatter.

Not giving Crowley a chance to take back his permission, Aziraphale commanded, “Now, SETTLE DOWN .” Crowley immediately dropped off to sleep, not fighting the suggestion at all this time. That was unsettling in and of itself, Aziraphale had the demon entirely at his mercy.

Aziraphale picked up the pliers that would frighten the life out of anyone seeing them coming. Thankfully, Crowley wouldn’t see them. Aziraphale had been considering what he had to do for most of the time he was working on the other feathers. This broken one was well and truly bolloxed. It looked like it had been injured then grew in worse every time it molted. No wonder the demon was so tetchy today. Who knew how long the thing had been bleeding. Even as tough as Crowley was, that had to be wearing on him.

Right then.

Aziraphale pulled the broken, bleeding feather.

And released a torrent.

Quickly, Aziraphale wove a healing miracle. He’d done it before on falcons, eagles, hawks, whose injured feathers threatened to end their flying. It wasn’t enough to just pull the feather. He had to heal the follicle, or it would never be right again.

The bleeding stopped, but Aziraphale still frowned in concentration. Something was keeping him from completing the healing. It was better. Much, much better. But, he’d have to see to it again. Maybe every time it molted.

So be it.

Crowley snored drunkenly on Aziraphale’s bed, his ebony wings softly furled, every feather gleaming and in place. The promised storm was just starting to pelt the castle.

Aziraphale pulled out two Roman coins from his pocket. One had heads and tails and the other had double heads. Aziraphale palmed each coin in turn and flashed them into the air, displaying first heads, then tails, over and over with the regularity of a pendulum. Flipping a final coin, he gazed down at the sleeping demon.

Waking Crowley and sending him out into the winter storm to uphold his end of the Arrangement would just undo all of the angel’s diligent work! Plus the unguarded look on Crowley’s sleeping face reminded Aziraphale of…Before.

Grabbing an oiled leather cape and a stout walking stick, Aziraphale left Crowley in the warm and headed out into the night.

“Ngghh, my head!” groaned Crowley. His tongue felt furred, his stomach was in revolt, his skin felt too big, his wings…

His wings did not itch or hurt.

‘Nggk,’ he thought between the pounding, ‘what the heaven happened last night?’ He tried to rack his untrustworthy memory: his wings had really acted up, he lost the toss, jokes, alcohol, a fuckery about fixing “the falcon”... The angel got strangely formal and asked permission for…

Crowley needed not to be epically hung over for this, so he expelled the poisons from whatever he’d gotten well and truly sloshed on, and looked at his right wing. Someone had expertly imped the bent feathers, the pinfeather sheaths were out and the broken, bleeding, festering blood feather...

Was gone.

Instead of the usual stinking hole, the follicle was in better shape than it’d been since before it’d been injured so long ago, so very, very long ago. And that was impossible, because that feather was never going to be right again. Only an angel could heal it and no angel would…

“Angel?” Crowley said softly, identifying gentle breathing nearby, looked down to see Aziraphale curled up asleep on a straw mattress on the floor.

Blue eyes opened softly and looked up at Crowley sweetly, until a smile that took on gleeful delight crossed the angel’s face. “You owe me double!”

“Wot!?” Crowley said in surprise.

“I did my blessing and the other thing at the crossroads in the storm last night. And I performed that little service for the “falcon”, so,” ticking off his fingers, “You owe double!” Aziraphale crowed and sat up.

“Is that really chivalrous when you obviously got me completely crocked?” Crowley rolled up on his side, “What the heaven did I drink?”

“Scumble, it’s made from apples.” Crowley finds the empty leather flask and sniffs it dubiously. “Stop changing the subject, Crowley! You. Owe. Me!” Aziraphale sang out happily.

“All right, all right!” Crowley said, amused to think ‘the angel has a bastard streak, who knew?’ “Obviously, for the temptation, but this…” he waves at his wing, “this is…” Crowley looks at the angel at a loss for words.

“Just a little adjustment to the Arrangement,” Aziraphale said airily, “That I hope you remember should I ever meet you in similar circumstances.”

Crowley nodded, “Sure, that’s…Alright, then…but,” he stumbled over his words.

“And if “the falcon” needs any further help, you’re welcome to bring him back here,” Aziraphale said more warmly. “Actually, I insist!”

“Insist, do you?” Crowley asked, face going from unguarded to a wry smile. Aziraphale’s heart melted a little at the brief flash of hopefulness in Crowley’s orange eyes. “Indeed, I do insist upon it!” the angel said firmly, a bit of the bastard in his twinkling smile.

Could they make a subtle adjustment to the Arrangement?

Aziraphale was certainly willing to wager it.

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