#i think i slightly misread the prompt

[robininthelabyrinth]

Jiang Cheng is taken to Nightless City, not Lotus Pier, after being captured by the Wens

ao3

“Why’d you bring him here?” Wen Xu asked. His eye was twitching, which didn’t look healthy.

Actually, he just…didn’t look very healthy at all, really. His skin was off-color and he had circles suggesting he hadn’t slept in too long; he’d lost weight, too. Unlike Wen Chao, who was positively bursting with good humor now that he’d personally ‘won’ a great victory, he looked as though he weren’t having a good time at all.

“Why not?” Wen Chao said carelessly. “He’s the last heir of the Jiang sect, once I track down that stupid girl, and it’s not like he’s a threat; he’s got no cultivation left, courtesy of Wen Zhuliu. I can put him on display.”

“Like an animal in a menagerie? You’ve got to be joking.” Wen Xu was scowling. “Do you know the trouble he could make for us if he escaped? A living heir – even without a golden core, he can still sire the next generation. He’s practically a symbol of rebellion!”

“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Father will enjoy it.”

“If he escapes, that undermines our credibility, injures morale,” Wen Xu argued. “Our troops are fighting for us because they see us as the sun in the sky, and if we slip up…the enemy will know that as well as I. There are spies everywhere. We’ll be facing a non-stop wave of rescue attempts!”

“And we’ll repel them all! Anyway, you’re exaggerating –”

“I am not –”

“What is the cause of all this noise?” a low, calm voice drawled from the door to the hall, causing Wen Chao and Wen Xu to all but trip over themselves in order to salute.

Jiang Cheng, bound and beaten bloody, without even his cultivation, utterly helpless, turned his head slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. That was Wen Ruohan himself standing there, cruel smirk twisting his lips – the man who had ordered the burning of the Cloud Recesses, the man who had ordered the massacre of the Lotus Pier, the man in whose name all these terrible things were done.

Both Wen Chao and Wen Xu tried to explain at once, and Wen Ruohan listened to his sons, looking thoroughly disinterested.

“A captive like this can be kept as a prize, but not displayed,” he finally said, sounding bored. “A-Xu is right, if they know we have him, they’ll only try to rescue him…still, there’s no harm in keeping him for now; he might be useful someday. Who can tell..?”

“I got him as a present for you,” Wen Chao blurted out. “Father –”

“If you want to impress me, bring me Nie Mingjue,” Wen Ruohan said. “Alive, and in chains. Whoever does that will win my esteem.”

“But – Father –”

“As for this one, I care far less. Figure it out between you.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Wen Ruohan left.

“Now you’ve gone and ruined it,” Wen Chao said to Wen Xu resentfully. “It was going to make him happy, and now he’s just back on the same old thing about Chifeng-zun…you deal with him.”

“Me? He’s your prisoner!”

“Yes, well, now I don’t want him any longer,” Wen Chao tossed his head. “You ruined all the fun of it – anyway, you’re the one who cares about whatever rescue attempts or whatnot. I’ve had my fun, I’m done…you do the rest.”

“A-Chao!” Wen Xu shouted, but Wen Chao clearly didn’t care. He’d turned his nose up and marched away down the hall. “Damn, A-Chao!”

But he was gone.

Wen Xu scowled after his younger brother, then turned back, his gaze dropping down to regard Jiang Cheng.

“Fuck,” he said, fervently, and for a crazy moment Jiang Cheng felt something almost like fellow-feeling, a wholly unexpected and unwelcome stab of sympathy for someone else who had to deal with a complete lunatic for a brother, always stuck being the one to clean up the mess…but that was completely crazy. This was Wen Xu. “Where can I even put you that people won’t immediately know who you are?”

He thought about it for a moment, then reached out and nudged at Jiang Cheng’s side with his shoe, making Jiang Cheng hissed a little in pain.

“Do you require a doctor?” he demanded.

Jiang Cheng had no idea what to say about that. He’d been hit by the Jiang sect’s discipline whip – he’d need a doctor for some time yet. Everyone knew those wounds never healed right…and that was for cultivators, a class to which he no longer belonged.

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said when Jiang Cheng didn’t respond. “All right. Fine. I can – deal with this. You…fine.”

That completely incomprehensible stream of words finished, he reached down and scooped Jiang Cheng into his arms as if he were some weak young lady, then strode off purposefully.

“Stupid A-Chao,” he was mumbling, not paying any attention to Jiang Cheng. “Stupid, stupid A-Chao…as soon as someone doesn’t have their golden core, he stops thinking of them as a threat. Stupid! People are capable of so much more than just cultivation…”

Jiang Cheng stared up at Wen Xu’s chin, the only part of him he could really see from this angle, and wondered a little. He’d certainly assumed that he’d become wholly useless once he lost his golden core – his parents had both stressed cultivation as one of the most important things in life, all about being the best, cultivating the most, and he’d spent his whole life working as hard as he could on building his core, forming it and then strengthening it, refining it. And yet here Wen Xu was, speaking as though he thought Jiang Cheng was something to fear.

As though he were still dangerous.

From anyone else, Jiang Cheng would have assumed it was simply pity or an attempt to comfort him. But Wen Xu could have no such motives – Wen Xu was the enemy.

Wen Xu kicked open a door and put Jiang Cheng down on a bed.

“Stay here,” he said, as if Jiang Cheng had any idea where he was or any inkling of where he could run to even if he wanted to, and left once more.

Jiang Cheng glanced around the room he’d been left in. It was one room off of a large and spacious courtyard, luxurious but oddly impersonal, as if all the signs of personality had been shoved away and hidden for fear that they’d bee seen.

Not long after, Wen Xu reappeared with a woman, who looked annoyed.

“This isn’t why I came back from Yiling, you know,” she said reproachfully. “I could be doing actual work there. Running a Supervisory Office isn’t like having a vacation…”

“A-Qing, please,” Wen Xu said, and she fell silent. “Just…take a look at him, all right? I’ll handle the rest myself. I don’t want anyone knowing he’s here, not even the servants…I trust you, though.”

“Emotional blackmail is cheap,” Wen Qing grumbled, but Jiang Cheng could tell she was convinced. “Fine. Are you really planning to care for him yourself, though? I mean, keeping him in your own bedroom? This was supposed to be a place for one of your concubines.”

“The last one that got shoved in here committed suicide,” Wen Xu said stiffly. “They usually do, once Father’s done with them, and it’s not like I’m going to take one willingly. The room’s empty, he might as well use it, and this way we can keep his presence here secret.”

“Aren’t you worried he’ll try something?” she asked, and Jiang Cheng wondered again what it was that made all these powerful scions of the Wen sect look at him, beaten bloody and robbed of his golden core, and see something worth worrying about.

What did they see in him that he didn’t?

“I’ll handle it,” Wen Xu said shortly. “Don’t I always handle it?”

She was quiet for a moment. “You’re still not sleeping, are you? Those nightmares of yours –”

“It’s a weakness I can’t afford, A-Qing. Father could order me back to the army any day.”

“I can try to talk to him. Make him leave off, at least for a little while…I don’t like the thought of you going up against Chifeng-zun. Uncle wouldn’t be nearly as obsessed with him if he wasn’t actually as good as they all say he is.”

Wen Xu laughed without humor. “I’ve fought him a few times before, friendly spars in discussion conferences. I know exactly what our skill levels are. That’s why I can say with a great deal of certainty that if he gets anywhere near me, he’ll chop off my head without blinking twice, and there’ll be exactly shit all I can do about it. But Father won’t care. I doubt he’ll even notice – no, I’m wrong. He will notice, in the sense that it’ll make him all the more desperate to capture Chifeng-zun.”

Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have believed that any father, no matter how negligent, would be so indifferent as Wen Xu was describing, but the other man seemed sure, and Wen Qing didn’t look like she disagreed.

“I’ll talk to him,” Wen Qing insisted. “I’ll tell him something.”

“Like what?”

She glanced around, then looked down at Jiang Cheng.

“I’ll tell him you’re working on the Jiang heir,” she said, and looked away from Jiang Cheng as if she couldn’t bear to hear what she was saying, even though she was still saying it. “Breaking his spirit, molding him into something we can use in the future. He’ll like that.”

Wen Xu scoffed. “Right, and then A-Chao will tell him that he’s already had Wen Zhuliu melt his golden core and it’ll all be a waste of time. He’ll just laugh at me and send me out to die all the faster.”

“Not if I can find a way to fix it,” she said.

“Fix it? Fix what?” Wen Xu blinked. “You’re not serious. His golden core?”

“Why not?” Wen Qing asked, tossing her head, sounding haughty and arrogant like all the Wens – but her words lit a fire in Jiang Cheng’s heart. She actually sounded confident, like she thought she could do it. “Listen, cousin, I’m not about to lie down and resign myself to losing you; you’re the only one in the main branch worth anything. You do your part, I’ll do mine.”

“No one can resurrect a golden core that’s been melted,” Wen Xu protested, but even as Jiang Cheng watched he could see him being swept away by her enthusiasm. “Anyway, I don’t actually know how to break a man. I never went in for that Fire Palace stuff, not the way A-Chao did.”

“Well, get over it,” she said shortly. “I don’t care if you beat him every day or dress him up in veils and take him as your concubine – just find a way to make Uncle believe that you’re sincerely devoted to the task and I’ll get him to leave you alone, and find a way to fix that golden core problem, too. Just stall, you hear me? Stall.”

“…fine. Will you take a look at him now?”

Wen Qing pulled out her needles and Jiang Cheng didn’t even have time to move before he was completely paralyzed, feeling more than seeing her hands loosening the rope around him and start an examination as impersonal and efficient as any doctor. He didn’t care, though – he wasn’t going to escape this himself, he knew that already.

He wasn’t even going to try.

Not when staying meant that Wen Qing could find him a way out of his current predicament, not when staying meant the chance to figure out from Wen Xu what exactly it was that he saw in Jiang Cheng…maybe he could even find some of those spies Wen Xu had spoken so fearfully of and pass information along to them.

Maybe he could still do something, after all.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wen xu #wen qing #wen chao #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #i think i slightly misread the prompt #oh well

[ravencincaide]

List of Chores  

Summary:  You wanted to say no. You wanted so badly to say ‘not tonight’ but as you looked at Chuuya’s bright hopeful eyes, looked at the wine that was not yours, the dress that was not yours or the house that was not yours, you had no choice but to say ‘yes’. 

Pairing: Couple! Fem reader x Chuuya 

Raven’s Special prompt: “Can I ask for Raven's special, a NSFW fic with Chuuya?  Reader wants to stop the sex because it doesn't feel pleasurable anymore, but doesn't know how to voice it? And maybe it gets Chuuya confused about how she's acting? Feel free to twist this however you feel like it.” 

Warnings: Mature, triggering content; minors DNI!

This fic contains: Pressure sex/dubious consent, Cursing, dirty talk, rough sex and insults towards reader, some hand stuff, penetrative sex, hint at unsafe sex, and probably something else I missed. It's dark and icky.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

“ You’re so beautiful tonight, sweetheart” Chuuya breathed a tipsy purr as he pulled you into his lap, one arm snaked around your waist while the second took his refilled glass out of your grasp and set it on the couch side table. 

“ Are you saying I’m not beautiful usually?” you teased lightly, hopeful that he’d entertain your joke instead of turning this pleasant homey night into something sexual. Your hopes shattered the second he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. 

The knot of anxiety formed in your stomach as he hummed against your skin in thought. It wound tighter as Chuuya trailed opened mouth kisses all the way up to the shell of your ear. Hot tongue teased your earlobe followed by sensual nips of sharp teeth; “ You know what I mean dollface” the arm around your waist tightened ever so slightly before it relaxed and shifted back. Fingertips played from the edge of your ribcage then up, trailing the outline of your bra. 

“ C-Chuuya..” you started, shuddering as he dipped his hand inside the v-line of your dress, cool leather ghosted over your nipples. 

“ Mmm? tell me if you want to stop, baby” Chuuya pulled back and grasped your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, then turned your face to face him. His eyes a dark lust filled blue, cheeks tinted a rosy red although you were unsure whether it was from desire or wine. A flirty smirk adored his face; he knew you could feel his half-hard bulge press up against the curve of your ass, completely feelable through the thin material of your dress. “ Tell me now sweets.” he breathed then licked his lips as his eyes landed on the wine glass tightly grasped between your fingertips. 

You gave him an apologetic smile, parted your lips to utter the reply that felt the most right to you. You wanted to say no. You wanted so badly to say ‘not tonight’. Yet as your eyes landed on Chuuya’s bright hopeful ones you felt your resolve weaken, a splash of guilt grasped at your heart. You licked your lips and tried to speak again; yet all you could do was watch as Chuuya  ignored your smile- misread it. His expression filled with desire and approval.

Lust only for you. 

The nauseating guilt grew deeper as you noticed his eyes flicked downwards to the wine again before he reached for it, took a sip. then passed the glass right back.

Right. A subconscious reminder. 

Yes, the wine that was not yours. The dress that was not yours. Even the house you lived in was not yours. You weren’t on the lease, weren’t even a tenant. Yes, most of the commodities you enjoyed were his. So, if he wanted to he could strip you bare and throw you out that instant. And you’d be entirely helpless. 

You didn’t think he would; but you feared. And in all that, you had no choice but to say ‘yes’. 

“ Oh I’ll make you feel so good, doll” His lips were on yours, tongue lapped at your lipstick before pushing past. The taste of cigarettes and wine filled your senses. You focused away from it and on his hands which momentarily left your body, only long enough to take the glass from your grasp and set it on the couch side table.

Please drop it and we can call it a night

His hands found yours and guided them to the belt of his pants. A silent demand to unbuckle it. You forced your mind to focus, ignored his lips which left yours. Instead they nipped on your neck. Chuuya focused on the spots that drew reactions from you; soft gasps or groans of pleasure. 

Please don’t, no further

His dick sprung to life, hard and ready. Leaking hot pre-cum. Almost too quickly you gripped his lengths in your hands, giving it a few pumps. Chuuya moaned, a breathy sound. “ Mmmm just like that, sweets, keep doing that” 

You trailed your thumb from the tip of his lengths, down his shaft then back up again. If you played your cards right then maybe– 

“Spread your legs for me doll, that’s it, what a good toy you are” Chuuya moaned, his fingers dipping past your panties. The leather circled your hole, before several digits pushed in. His thumb on your clit, rubbing it to the rhythm of his thrusts. 

Is there enough food left for breakfast tomorrow? 

“ God you’re doing so well, you’re my little whore aren’t you?” Chuuya cursed again, buckled his dick in your grasp. More pre-cum spilled on you; on your hand and some onto the bunch up dress still on you. He was so close, you could feel it. Moments before- he pulled your hand off him and shifted you closer, spreading your legs even wider. 

You bit your lips as he pushed in.  

The eggs have probably expired, best to get new ones in the morning.  

“ ahh my slutty doll you feel so fucking good, you wanted this yeah? My precious slut” the hand that groped your ass gave the soft flesh a sudden slap. You yelped then groaned as his fingers found your clit again. His voice an upscene purr in your ear as he thrusted harder into your hole.

Your teeth tore at your lips as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. Each thrust filled you with pleasure, each touch drew moans past your lips, yet each word past his lips filled you with guilt and shame. Your mind was not with you, not present in the moment. Instead you silently recited the never-ending list of chores you had to tend to. 

But at least you could cross off sex for a day or two… 

Want something else?

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©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#raven's special #raven cincade's works #Raven's drabbles #Raven's short fics #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x reader #Chuuya smut #bsd smut #bf Chuuya

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Behavioral Tactics - Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski

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

•Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader x Stiles Stilinski

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Someoneʼs fantasies about having Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski at the same time (Why choose, right?) are about to come true, after a little bit of wine and a lot of flirting.

•Warnings/Content - piv unprotected (DONT DO THIS KIDS - AND WITH 2 DIFF DUDES JUST LET IT BE FANTASY AND BE HORNY IN YOUR BRAIN HOLES OKAY) ; A-Z all bases covered bc Iʼm one horny bish ; Reader- focused 3-some if that wasnʼt evident ; Spencer and Stiles are HOT SO JUST BE WARNED OKAY ; Mentions of alcohol, some lil bits of bondage and such thingies, SO MUCH PRAISE, petnames and such IʼM SORRY IʼM CHEESY OKAY

•Word Count - 3.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Yaʼll this is just PURE self indulgence at this point, so if anyoneʼs also into it, cool cool cool - I pretty much imagine reader to be Stiles' age and they're in their mid-to-late 20's with Spence around 16 years their senior but you can imagine it however you want! // ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE NOTES ON MY FIRST FEW WRITING BLURBS OMF YAʼLL MAKE MY DAY I SWEARRRRR

•Additional Tags - Switch!Reader but mostly Sub!Reader, Switch!Spencer, Dom!Stiles, Slightly Tipsy Wine Night Turns Into PURE FILTH, Consent AS ALWAYS Is Important, Brat!Reader fr fr, Boys Whimpering I JUST 🤌🏻

Spencer wasnʼt usually one to drink, but this was a special occasion, he says - the three of us werenʼt able to see one another often, and so a second half-empty wine glass was currently in his hand, in danger of being spilled as Stiles finishes his story and makes the older man laugh so hard his face goes red.

“You told him you would what?ˮ He crows, eyebrows raised.

“I said it once, Iʼm not saying it again.ˮ Stiles shakes his head, reaching for the wine bottle Iʼve currently got clutched to my side. “Hey, refill me, why donʼt you?ˮ

I shake my head; Iʼm feeling fuzzy and light, and enjoying the game of keep-away far too much at the moment to let it go. The idea of them having to wrestle it away from me gives me a funny feeling in my stomach, but I ignore it.

Or so Iʼd thought. Because the moment the idea crosses my mind, their eyes catch it. Micro-expressions. I knew the term well from many late-night conversations with my two close friends, as they were both FBI agents, one specifically focused on analyzing behavior. How had I expected to hide this from them? It was only a matter of time until-

“Sheʼs doing it again.ˮ

“Huh? Iʼm doing…what? Iʼm not doing anything.ˮ

“Dilated pupils,ˮ Spencer notes, as if heʼs diagnosing something clinical. “Reddened skin. Iʼd stand to wager…elevated heart rate, as well?ˮ

Getting up from their shared couch, Stiles reaches for the wine, but instead, his hand brushes my neck with a careful look in his eye. Iʼm fixated, unable to move or speak, or really even breathe, to think of it.

“Youʼre right on the money, Reid.ˮ He nods, his fingers at my pulse point. My skin is burning at the sudden intimacy.

“Whatʼre you guys going on about?ˮ

“Still playing innocent?ˮ Stiles chuckles, backing up. I let out a heavy breath, half- caught in my throat over a newly forming lump.

“I have no idea what…ˮ

“Weʼre talking about?ˮ Spencer finishes, licking his lips and leaning forward. “Oh, but I think you do. Donʼt you agree, Stiles?ˮ

Stiles nods, not even looking at him. Theyʼre both hyper-focused on me, and the attention feels both fantastic and utterly unbearable at the same time.

“Every time weʼve gotten together, the three of us,ˮ Stiles continues, reaching out a hand and beckoning me forward. They shuffle apart, making a space between the two where Iʼd fit…if I wanted. “Itʼs undeniable. The looks you give.ˮ

My heart is in my throat, eyeing the space that Spencerʼs now patting. I set the bottle aside, the game utterly forgotten.

“I-ˮ

“Did we misread?ˮ He raises an eyebrow, setting down his glass. “Iʼd thought for sure you were thinking of us all…together.ˮ

The sip of wine Iʼd been taking that turned more into a chug comes back up into my glass. I cough, pushing it away. Stiles takes it, making sure Iʼm alright before continuing Spencerʼs thought.

“Sweetheart, if weʼre making you uncomfortable-ˮ

“No, not at all.ˮ I blurt, looking back and forth between them. Spencer, with his hair slicked back and slightly disheveled, who Iʼve thought of time and time again but never had the courage to do anything about besides call out his name in my late nights alone with myself; Stiles, my best friend, my confidante…one of the most attractive men Iʼve ever known. The whirlwind of explicit mind pictures involving him goes back a long, long time. Yes, Iʼve thought about it. Dreamt of it. But for it to actually happen, to no longer just be a fantasy, was never something Iʼd anticipated.

“I told you,ˮ Spencer smirks, not at all cocky - just knowing he was right.

I flush. “You guys talk about me alot, huh?ˮ

"About us, sometimes.ˮ Stiles nods, still eyeing me and beckoning me to sit. “Look, really, if you arenʼt into the idea, Iʼll back off. Weʼll back off,ˮ He amends, a short glance to his side. “But honestly, itʼs been a long time coming, hasnʼt it? You and us.ˮ

His words are divine, luring me in. Iʼm taking his hand before my mind can catch up, and sitting in the space between them. The heat from their bodies is only a further spur into this dangerous new game weʼre playing, now.

“I think…youʼre okay with it, arenʼt you?ˮ Spencer murmurs, gentle but teasing. He brushes my hair from my neck, leaning closer.

“Youʼre drunk,ˮ I let out a nervous laugh, shivering at his touch. Stiles is mirroring him on my left, although heʼs a bit more brazen, closer to me, his lips at my ear.

“Not even close,ˮ He chuckles, breath tickling my skin. “A glass or two isnʼt nearly enough to get me drunk. How about you, Spence?ˮ

“Nope.ˮ

“Well, I-ˮ My eyes flutter shut when Stilesʼ kiss hits my neck, brain going fuzzy. Oh, my god, what?

“Are you?ˮ Spencer goads, his hand resting on my thigh. “Iʼve certainly seen you drunk off of at least twice what youʼve had tonight, and from that point of reference, Iʼm going to say youʼre more in the buzzed-to-tipsy range.ˮ

“Just say no, I mean it,ˮ Stiles pulls back, his voice a husky whisper. “Consentʼs more important, Iʼll just take care of business myself, if I gotta.ˮ

“Iʼm fairly sober,ˮ I admit, looking at him. Gods, I want to kiss him. I want to kiss them both. “And Iʼm okay with it if you are. If…you both are?ˮ

“Okay with it?ˮ Spencer laughs. I catch the edge of his grin out of the corner of my eye, unsure who to focus on.

“I want it.ˮ I swallow, ready and willing to admit to every brazen thought Iʼd ever had. The temptation is much too strong, the lull of their voices and hands and lips and eyes and… Oh, good heavens, here we fucking go.

“Thatʼs evident in your behavior,ˮ Spence teases, hand slowly inching up my leg. “Do you want to lead, or be lead?ˮ

Not one to wait on me to respond, Stiles is back at my neck, and Iʼm finding it hard to speak. Rather than attempt words at this point, I tug at Spencerʼs collar, eyes on his lips.

His gaze, heavy-lidded and lust blown, drinks in my desperation for but a moment, then heʼs kissing me - and what a feeling it is, to have their attention centered on me. All at once, distracting and overwhelming, yet I canʼt get enough. Spencer kisses like he needs air and Iʼm oxygen, devouring me to the point Iʼm almost being pushed into Stilesʼ lap.

“Hey, there,ˮ Sti chuckles, gripping me tighter the moment Spencer backs off. “My turn?ˮ

I nod, more nervous about this than even Spencer had made me. Something about Stiles has always just…gotten to me, that way. And now is certainly no exception, with him pulling me into his lap and pulling my face down to his own.

Kissing Stiles is much different than kissing Spencer; Where Spence is hungry, Stiles is almost animalistic, despite being entirely and simply human - he makes up for it in the passion he brings, deep and hot and breathy kisses that make my head spin.

“We should- uh, my room?ˮ I mumble against him, reaching for a hand from either one of them. They both take me up on it, and let me lead them up the stairs. I can feel their bemusement coming off of them in waves, sprinkled into the desire that has them so warm Iʼm already sweating in my minimal clothes.

Once the doorʼs shut behind us, and Iʼm sat on my bed, their gazes have mefeeling so indescribably small.

“So eager, sweet girl.ˮ Stiles cooes.

“Look at you, weʼve barely touched you and youʼre already squirming.ˮ Spencer smirks, slowly undoing his belt without breaking eye contact. “Think you can be patient for us?ˮ

My eyes flick between them, one locking the door while the other, taller one is approaching me; I instinctively reach for him, but Spence tuts, pushing me back.

“Guess not,ˮ He chuckles, motioning for me to move back towards the headboard. I have a sinking feeling I know exactly where heʼs going with this, and I whine in protest as Iʼm proved right - wrists pinned above my head, secured with the very belt that had just been around his hips.

“Youʼre gonna be trouble, arenʼt you?ˮ

“Of course she is,ˮ Stiles laughs, coming to sit on the bed with us. They both gaze at me, helpless as I am, with the utmost mix of adoration and desire. I had expected to feel enjoyment from this, but safety? Oh, itʼs the cherry on top of a very delicious cake.

“No, Iʼll be good - I swear."

“Of course you will, sweetheart.ˮ Spencer tips my chin up to him as he climbs on top of me. It kills me that I canʼt reach up and touch him, and with that little smirk spreading across his face, he knows. Between him leaning down to kiss me again, and the gentle but firm hands of Stiles snaking up my thighs, Iʼm breathless and pleading.

“Please, please, just-ˮ

Spencerʼs lips cut me off, and I let myself get lost in the haze of him for a moment, just a moment. My attention snaps back into focus when I feel my shorts being tugged down my thighs.

“You two…ʼtryna kill me.ˮ I moan, and I can feel Spencer smile against me.

“Actually, the likelihood of dying due to any type of sexual arousal or intercourse is fairly minimal, so youʼre likely in the clear.ˮ He quips.

“If I could roll my eyes-ˮ

“Oh, weʼll give you something to roll your eyes back for.ˮ Stilesʼ voice comes from right above my heat, and I shudder, bucking up to try to grasp any sort of friction.

“Calm down, pretty girl.ˮ Spencer chides, his hand gripping my jaw and bringing me deeper into the kiss. I sigh, giving in, and simply allow his kisses on my lips, my neck, and Stilesʼ slow and agonizing undressing of my lower half.

He lets out a low noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, once my panties are discarded. “Youʼre a fuckinʼ mess, princess. Is that all for us?ˮ

Itʼs all I can do to let out an approving whine, a not so subtle begging for something, anything to break this coil built up in my belly. My arms are starting to hurt from the amount of tugging Iʼve been doing to try to get free, but I can barely even feel it. I just need them, both of them, so badly.

“Cʼmere, get a look at her.ˮ Stiles pulls Spencer back, and he pouts a moment before focusing on me - well, the lower half of me.

“Fuck.ˮ Spencer groans, rubbing his chin with a slack-open mouth. “You werenʼt kidding. Pretty girl, youʼre wet.ˮ

“Are you gonna do anything about it?ˮ My tone is desperate, but entirely bratty. The looks I get from the pair of them tells me Iʼm gonna pay for that.

“We could just leave you there and take care of ourselves.ˮ Spencer snaps back, but I can see in his eyes thatʼs the last thing he wants. I donʼt have to be a profiler to know how badly he wants to be inside me right now.

“Or we could do it together,ˮ Stiles adds, watching my reaction. “Oh, you would like that a little too much, though, wouldnʼt you? Does that get you off, sweet girl?ˮ

I nod. “Okay, Iʼll behave, just please, touch me or something?ˮ

“Sheʼs so pretty when sheʼs desperate for us, isnʼt she?ˮ Stiles smirks, leaning over me tauntingly. One hand traces lightly over my thigh, ever so gently. Spencer sits right on the other side of me, his grasp a bit more firm, a lot closer to where Iwant them to be.

“Aw, I think she deserves at least a little something.ˮ Spencer cooes, bringing his free hand to his mouth. I watch in awe as he sticks his fingers in and brings them out with a pop, so sure of himself as he brings them to my folds. Gentle but swift, he inserts one, then two fingers, once he hears the noise of relief I let out.

“S-Spence-ˮ

“There you go, beautiful. Just needed someone to touch you, huh?ˮ

The long, practiced fingers of Spencer Reid send my mind into a tailspin; Unable to think of anything other than the sheer pleasure and joy of knowing this is actually happening, I canʼt bring myself to feel any sort of self-consciousness - I only know the sweet nothings they whisper, and once Iʼve hit my limit and cried out for Spencer, how they trade off and now itʼs Stilesʼ turn to learn my body.

Somehow, though his touch is different, itʼs equally as pleasant, from the tugs he makes against my sweet spot to the thumb rubbing circles against my throbbing clit. Only when Iʼve came for him, as well, does Spencer gently push him aside, positioning himself between my folds with a hungry groan.

Stiles climbs up to kiss me, and Spencerʼs kiss…is somewhere else entirely. Iʼm mewling against the lips that suck on mine, bucking up despite myself into Spencerʼs face. He takes it well, only gripping my thighs harder and pressing his tongue deeper into my core. I can feel myself leaking onto his chin, and like a man starved, he eats with a deepseated hunger and noises that make my stomach twist. Mumbles and groans of ‘you taste so goodʼ push me over the edge once, twice, I lose count.

When itʼs time for the expected switching, Iʼm aching to feel something more, and it seems Spencer can sense this; while he climbs up to kiss me, he also sets to releasing my binds.

“Wanna know a little secret of mine?ˮ He whispers, voice low in my ear. “Iʼd like to see you take a little bit of your control back…just a bit.ˮ

The release I give into Stilesʼ mouth as I kiss Spencer, now that Iʼm free to do whatever I please with my hands, is monumental. Iʼm tearing at Spenceʼs clothes, and he responds with pulling my shirt over my head, his mouth latching onto my breasts. I cry out, more than ready for everything this will give me. It doesnʼt take long for the three of us to get undressed, heat of the moment as it is.

“Please-please-ˮ

“Thereʼs no need to whine, love.ˮ Spencer murmurs, tracing down a pattern from my lips to my chest. “What do you need? Use your words.ˮ

“Someone needs to be inside me, and now.ˮ

This earns a chuckle from the both of them.

“Are we flipping a coin?ˮ Stiles quips, sidling up behind me as Spence rolls off to my front.

“Statistically speaking, it is the most-mmm-ˮ His voice lilts as I reach for him, eyes fluttering when I stroke. “Now thatʼs not…fair.ˮ

Stiles reaches over across my hip, circling my clit. “Behave, princess.ˮ

I rut back against him, earning a low moan.

“Someone. Either. Both?ˮ

“Now that sounds difficult to…position-ˮ Spence grunts.

Stiles takes the opportunity of my distraction to shift me a bit, pressing his tip to my folds. One rut forward and heʼs swiftly entered, making my hand and voice stutter against Spence. “Good girl,ˮ Stiles cooes, brushing my hair off of my neck and kissing at it as he works to find a pace inside me. “Good girl.ˮ

I whine - really, thereʼs no other word for it - and do my best to continue pleasuring Spencer, but the overstimulation of it all makes my brain go numb. Heʼs helpful, though, fucking up into my hand and echoing Stilesʼ praises with gentle and passionate kisses to my lips, my chest, my jaw. When Sti rolls me over, pulling out and climbing onto me before getting back to it, Spencer backs up and eyes us with utterly delicious lust, his hand pumping slow and hard against himself.

The noises filling my room are lewd, downright nasty, but the feelings are just so good, I canʼt bring myself to feel anything but disgusting pleasure from it all. Have we been here for hours now? Days? It feels like itʼs been forever and yet no time at all. The scratches Iʼve left down Stilesʼ back wonʼt be going anywhere for likely just as long. When the beautiful man wants to use my mouth, Iʼm ready and willing, and take his load without blinking. I doubt Iʼll ever get over the sight of him letting go and howling my name, either.

“There you go…did sʼgood for me.ˮ He praises, wiping the stray trail from my lips as he backs up, a sweet kiss to my cheek as well. “Spence?ˮ

“Only if sheʼs up for it,ˮ Spencer approaches slowly, eyeing me carefully. “How about it, pretty girl?ˮ

I nod fervently, and he likely would have laughed if he wasnʼt so overtaken. I reach out to pull him onto me, but he lifts me up and mumbles something about it ‘being my turn to be on topʼ. Hesitantly, I adjust myself until Iʼm hovering over him. Something about those eyes on me has my heart thudding so hard Iʼd almost think heʼd hear it; The noise that rips from me when I sit down onto him is almost criminal.

“Youʼre in control,ˮ He tells me, hands on my hips as but a guide to rock me back and forth. “Do what you will with me.ˮ

I set to making a pace with him, and to my enjoyment, Spencer is a whimperer when I do it just right. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good on me, baby. Better than I ever imagined, my mind canʼt even do you justice, and thatʼs… saying something, oh my god-ˮ

“Sweet talker,ˮ I coo, grinding against him just to get more of those wonderful whimpers. “Youʼre gonna make me… Spence-ˮ

“Please, cum all over me, youʼve earned it, havenʼt you? Been so fucking good for me.ˮ

“I-I need-ˮ The words wonʼt escape, so I simply show him, bringing his hands to my breasts and motioning, pull.

Heʼs a diligent submissive for the moment, doing as I ask. And the waves crash over me and out of me and onto him with such intensity I almost lose vision. More, I want more, and Iʼm begging for it so much that he canʼt say no, rubbing a pattern on my pounding clit until Iʼm seeing stars.

“Doing okay, baby?ˮ

“I could take you two…all night.ˮ I moan. The energy to do so may put me in a coma, but…

“I wanna cum in you,ˮ He grips my chin, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. “Can I? Is that okay?ˮ

"Yes, so very okay.ˮ

As Spencer chases his high, heʼs sloppier and thrusting up into me with the loudest noises of the night from him, and again I lose count of the edges he sends me over; A sweet melody, him calling out to me as he topples over his edge and comes down, both of us running down the space where we meet. I collapse onto his chest, and he strokes my hair, soft and sweet praises and kisses a stark contrast to the dirty things weʼd all done together tonight.

A strange noise rips from the edge of the bed, and we turn to look and see Stiles, completely passed out and snoring.

“Is he…?ˮ

“He is.ˮ

We laugh, careful not to wake the poor boy as Spencer gets to work cleaning me up. Once heʼs done so, I tug Stiles up into bed with us, relishing in them holding me on either side.

“Mmmm…sleepy.ˮ He groans, snuggling into me. “That was fuckinʼ something.ˮ

“Very much something.ˮ Spencer agrees, smirking on the other side of me.

“Something we should do again sometime?ˮ

“Yes!ˮ Stiles whines. “Just…lemme sleep more first, and Iʼm ready…tʼgo…ˮ

Spencer and I laugh again, and itʼs clearly a unanimous decision - this will happen again. And thank the gods, because I certainly havenʼt gotten enough of them just yet.

#stiles stilinski smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #stiles stilinski x reader

[rutellingmeashrimpfriedthisrice]

MCYT Yuri Week Day One!

Prompt: Dance/Break

Ship: Gem(GeminiTay)/Pearl(Pearlescentmoon)

Series: Empires SMP (season 1)

Word Count: 806

@mcyt-yuri-week

Gem watched from afar the way Pearl swayed to the upbeat music around them, watching the other girl laugh while Sausage twirled until she was sure the brunette's cheeks would be sore. She took a deep breath, shoulders tensing as she stepped onto the dance floor for the first time since setting it up hours ago for the Rivendell Festival.

"Gem!" Pearl grinned, pausing to face her as she glanced down slightly at the shorter girl who's cheeks dusted pink at the sound of her own name. "Come dance with me." She said, not a request but also without force. An offer she was counting on Gem to accept.

So she did.

With a timid smile, Gem nodded and let Pearl grab hold of her hand, stumbling as she was suddenly tugged into the rhythm of the quick-paced tune coming from the jukebox not far away. Her nerves faded faster than expected, soon moving freely around as Pearl occasionally touched her hand or her shoulder to guide her into another dance move.

The wizard had been having so much fun she hadn't noticed the change of song until her eyes landed on the sunflower-clad girl before her, holding out a hand with a goofy smile that made Gem want to giggle and melt at the same time.

"You got one more dance in you?" Pearl asked quietly to not disturb the other couples already swaying. Gem glanced around nervously, noticing the closeness of Scott and Jimmy and the smitten look shared between Joel and Lizzie. She blushed, taking a deep, steadying breath before smiling back at Pearl and slowly placing her hand over the other girl's.

"For you? Of course." She answered, heart fluttering as Pearl blushed this time. She stepped closer, hovering her free hand nervously over her waist before gently resting it just as Pearl's hand moved to her shoulder.

It took a minute that felt like years before Gem felt relaxed enough to drop her tense shoulders and let out a breath she'd forgotten to release. Her gaze wandered up from where she'd been watching her feet to notice Pearl already looking her way, smiling sheepishly once she was caught.

"Having fun?" Pearl asked in a whisper, barely audible over the music for only Gem to hear.

Gem nodded. "Yeah." She said, a bit breathless from how pretty Pearl's eyes looked from up close. "You?"

Pearl smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, tonight's been great." She said.

"I'm sensing a but in there?"

"But it'd be better if it were just us two."

Gem's eyes widened just a fraction at that, and Pearl's cheeks turned scarlet when the redhead didn't say anything in response.

"I mean, what I mean is-" Pearl faked a cough and Gem couldn't stop the grin growing on her face. "I like having you around. You're good company, a good friend."

Gem let her eyes flit around the other leader's face before taking a half step to bring them close enough to touch, watching as the shadow from her hat blocked Pearl's face from the light. "I like being around you." She said softly, hoping with all her heart that she wasn't misreading the situation.

Pearl blinked a few times before grinning even wider than before. "You do?" She asked, earning a nod.

"I... I like you, Pearl." She finally said, voicing those thoughts she'd held for weeks, maybe months.

"I like you too." Pearl answered, holding Gem's hand just a bit tighter in her own.

"Erm," another voice broke the two out of their moment. "Having a good time, are we?" Scott smirked from over Jimmy's shoulder as the girls noticed everyone had stopped to look at them.

"Don't ruin this for me, elf boy." Gem retorted, the group sharing a laugh while Scott rolled his eyes. She looked back to Pearl and stretched onto her toes to finally kiss the girl she'd been thinking about for so long.

She pulled away, smiling from ear to ear at the way Pearl's eyes lit up from her kiss. She faintly registered some of her friends cheering or cooing in approval, but the only thing she could focus on was Pearl's dazzling smile and the new look in her eyes that she could already tell would never cease to make her heart race.

Pearl blinked from her daze to look around once again, still grinning wider than possible. "What are you lot standing around for? This is a party!" She cheered, nodding to Sausage who switched out the music disc for something upbeat again as Gem was happily pulled into another dance.

As Pearl spun her around for the sixth time, Gem found she was sure of two things:

This would always be the best night of her life, and she would definitely fall over if Pearl spun her one more time.

#mcytyuriweek2023 #pearlgem #gempearl #harvestmoon #moonstone

[nhasablogg]

Now gracefully strung by your hand

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Derek/Spencer

Anonymous said: Prompt (fits in your existing ‘verse if you want): Spencer Reid on a low-effort case getting distracted by the others' hands while they work bc he’s thinking lee thoughts. Mayhaps Morgan or one of the others notices and does something about it 🥰

A/N: References this fic!

Words: 1.2k

Derek noticed more now. It was thrilling, in a way, to look back on past interactions and pinpoint exactly when Spencer could think of nothing but tickling, even for just a fleeting moment. And Derek knew he probably wasn’t misreading the moments, especially now that he knew exactly how Spencer was like when the thought suddenly gripped him. The lee mood, as he’d learned it was called (and which his usage of always made Spencer embarrassed in the best way). He probably didn’t associate handcuffs with it, being in the FBI and all, but Derek could remember one particular instance where he’d been joking around with him, way back when, and had asked to cuff him to see how well Spencer would survive if the need ever arose.

“I’ll be gentle,” he’d told him, and Spencer had blushed in a way Derek hadn’t yet understood.

“You thought I was gonna tickle you, weren’t you?” he asked him one day, having remembered it.

“No.” Spencer was bright red then too, but he seemed honest as he met his gaze. “I thought of it, but it- it wasn’t just that.”

“Oh?” Derek grinned. “Was it me holding you down over the table that distracted you?”

Spencer shifted in his seat, eyes now on the wall behind him. “You’re terrible, Derek Morgan.”

“Mm, you love it.”

The most innocent and captivating display of Spencer being caught up in this type of mood Derek noticed accidentally. Spencer seemed to be zoning out, staring at something for so long that Derek was certain he wasn’t paying attention to what he was watching, until he realized it was hands. And then he kept noticing it. Spencer’s gaze innocently on Hotch’s flexing hand pointing to a map. Spencer’s gaze following Emily’s fingers leafing through a case file.

He found him in the conference room one day, where Garcia was showing him something on the computer. Clicking, pointing, tapping, all the while Spencer was watching the blur of her wiggling fingers. Derek could imagine what he was thinking, caught up in it without meaning to, all wide eyed, all innocence.

“Were you watching her hands?” he asked with a laugh and Spencer jumped, face pinkening so quickly in that delicious way Derek adored.

“She has nice nails,” he said, and maybe Derek would leave it at that had he not understood what exactly that meant.

“Mm, they’re long. I bet it would tickle like crazy if she ran them over your belly.”

“Derek, oh my god, not here.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Derek let out a laugh. “I do know why. I just like seeing you get flustered.”

Spencer huffed, but there was no coming back from that blush.

*

“Do you ever watch my hands?”

Spencer didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. “Sometimes. A lot of times.” He flushed and averted his eyes. “Most times.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t help it.”

“Well, you do know exactly what these hands can do.”

“Derek.” He said it softly, more out of habit than a plea for him to stop. They were alone. Spencer could indulge.

Derek too.

“Do you picture them running up your spine?” Derek demonstrated by stroking the air, index finger slightly extended, moving slowly over something invisible. “Or maybe-” He flipped his hand over and wiggled his fingers. “-gently stroking your chin? Tell me.” Spencer was bright red now, but he wasn’t looking away. “Do you ever tickle yourself and pretend it’s me?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. It pleased him. “Even when you’re around.”

Derek faltered. “But you could just ask me.”

“I know, I just-” Spencer shrugged, pulling at his sleeves. “Sometimes I feel silly asking. And sometimes I don’t really want the entirety of it anyway. Sometimes just the idea is enough.”

“I see.” Derek had to admit the image of Spencer lying in bed with Derek watching tv and slowly tracing his fingers over his own sensitive skin was kind of hot, to put it boldly. “If you ever want me to be quick and gentle, I can. Or if you want me to air tickle you.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just-” Spencer let out a laugh, something soft and slightly panicked. “I’m still not used to talking about it so casually.”

“I can make an event out of it, don’t worry. July 16th. Caught Spencer looking at Garcia’s hands.”

“Shut up.”

“July 18th. Got him to admit he tickles himself.” Derek laughed as Spencer shoved him, fingers automatically going for his ribs. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to steal your job.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it when I’m annoying.”

Spencer huffed, but didn’t deny it. Derek reached out experimentally and stuck a finger into Spencer’s neck, earning a giggle, shoulder rising to stop him. “H-hey.”

“You really think I was gonna leave you alone? I’m in a ler mood.”

“Oh my god, please shut up-”

“Shh, let me tickle you. Please.”

Spencer was still giggling from the fingers on his neck. “F-fine.”

“Thank you so very kindly for your sacrifice.” He pulled his hand free, wiggling the fingers in front of Spencer’s face. “Watch them.”

“Derek.”

“Just for a moment, and imagine what they will do, okay? Because they love the attention.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. Derek knew he would probably kill him one day. He was fine with it.

*

Watching Spencer watch hands calmed Derek down, too. He noticed it on the jet one day, feeling anxious and exhausted after a draining case, and so he’d turned toward Spencer like he usually did and found that Spencer was already watching him. Or watching his hands, gaze flickering between them and Derek’s face and while he did a good job of not flushing Derek caught the telltale sign of him being embarrassed in the way his body shifted. He wondered if Spencer longed for him to wash the week’s hardships away with his fingertips on his ribs, or if he was simply so used to watching certain parts of people that it had become a habit.

Derek relaxed under the gaze either way, wiggling his fingers experimentally and being rewarded with a kick to his leg as Spencer looked away without a word. Hotch sent him a questioning look as Derek laughed, seemingly out of nowhere.

Most times he caught Spencer watching other hands, though. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel jealous about it, but he didn’t. He found it cute. And entertaining. Thanks to the case which had brought them together in the first place everyone knew that tickling was a topic for Spencer. A sensitive topic, maybe because he’d gotten captured by the tickle UnSub, or maybe because he’d known more about the topic than they’d expected him to. Derek hadn’t talked to anyone else about it, because frankly he respected Spencer too much, so he wasn’t sure if anyone had pieced it together. But no one really tickled him, other than Derek. Maybe they found they couldn’t after the case. Maybe they felt it was Derek’s job.

But Spencer kept watching, maybe not on purpose, maybe dreaming more than paying attention. But each time Derek caught him earned him a blush. And how could Derek not love that?

#tickling #ticklish!spencer reid #moreid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #n writes #now gracefully strung by your hand

[bingbongsupremacy]

Escape Pt. 2

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Warnings: Forced Marriage, also idk how to flirt so shits cringe af

Summary: The night of your arranged marriage you make your escape. Little do you know someone has the same idea.

Prompt from Pinterest.

Royal AU

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

*****

1 Year Later

" Let me get that! "

I roll my eyes, ignoring Ellie. " I've got it, Ellie. "

Ellie snatches the buckets from my hands. " You're still recovering from your sprained ankle. You can't be doing anything crazy. " Ellie shakes her head, setting the heavy buckets on our hand made table.

I huff, crossing my arms. " Carrying a water bucket is not crazy. Plus, my ankle is fine. I told you, it doesn't even hurt anymore. " I roll my ankle to prove my point.

" I'm not taking any chances. " Ellie begins to fill a small pot with water for our breakfast.

A small grin spreads across my face. " If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were concerned about me, El. " I take a seat at the table and watch as Ellie's face turns a faint shade of red.

" I'm not worried. " She denies. " It's just easier to take care of the cattle when your ankle isn't fucked up. "

" Mhm. " I nod. " Sure. You big softie. "

Ellie bites her lip, trying not to smile. Her arms flex underneath her cotton shirt as she reaches up a to grab some herbs.

A comfortable silence fills the room. I look around at the house we built. It's amazing we got it up so quickly. All thanks to the nearby village of course. The people here are so friendly. They gladly took us in.

It's been a hard year. Dodging soldiers and trying to keep our identities under wraps. Ever since our disappearances, our families kingdoms' have boosted the amount of times soldiers run through villages. We're lucky we're so far away from the village. We haven't been spotted yet.

Every day is scary. Will someone recognize us? Will someone report us to the royal guard?

We try our best to stay away from people. There's very few we trust. The ones we do, we're still very cautious about.

" So...it's been a year. " Ellie's voice breaks through the silence.

" It has. " I agree.

Ellie and I have gotten closer. I mean, it's hard not to get close to someone you spend every day with. We've experienced things many people haven't. She knows things no one else knows about me.

Every glance she sends my way causes an eruption of butterflies in my stomach. Whenever our hands meet, a buzz of electricity runs through my veins. Sometimes I wonder if she feels the same about me.

I'm definitely in love with her.

" Do you think you've learned how to survive on your own? " Ellie sits down next to me, her body turned to me.

" Is this a polite was of telling me to get the fuck out of your house? " I joke.

Ellie's face drops. " No! I-that's not what I meant. I-"

I laugh slightly. " Relax, Ellie. I was teasing you. I know you can't live without my constant pestering. "

Ellie rolls her eyes. " Yeah. Sure. What I was trying to say is, do you think you're prepared for the world? "

I lean closer to Ellie. I don't miss the way her breath quickens. " Well, I did have a pretty good teacher. "

" Yeah? " Ellie hums, her eyes glancing down at my lips.

I can't be misreading this, right?

" Yeah. She taught me everything I need to know and more. " I stop moving when I'm inches away from Ellie's face. I brush a bit of Ellie's hair out of her face. Her green eyes glimmer in the light.

" I'm sure you were her favorite student. " Ellie's breath is warm on my lips. Her gaze doesn't break away from mine.

" I'm not sure. She's never said anything about that before. "

" Maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe all she needs to do is this. " Ellie leans in kisses me. Her lips are warm and dry.

Fireworks explode in my stomach. I melt into her touch. Her hands wrap around my waist, loosely holding my sides.

My hands make their way up to the back of her neck.

We spend what feels like hours making out before finally pulling away to catch our breaths.

" Fuck, " Ellie pants. " I've wanted to do that for a while, Princess. "

I let out a breathy laugh. " You're telling me. "

I'll never regret running away with Ellie.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams drabble #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us

[roetrolls]

Pottery

“I’m afraid of messing this up.”

Seated behind Mallum, Zurven watched the seadweller’s hands fall still, his stiff shoulders hunching forward as he set his elbows on his knees. His fingers, still coated in clay, laced themselves together and began to shake, jostled by the bounce in his leg.

“It’s a pinch pot,” Zurven reminded him, “it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Mallum shook his head, fins twitching slightly. With a sigh, Zurven scooted closer to take him by the wrists, pulling his hands apart and setting them back on the pot. Over the past several months, he’d started to understand his new hivemate on a level deeper than he’d ever desired to, and so much of what he did had become recontextualized.

“Just relax. Don’t force it.” Mallum, like Benjin, was a chronic overthinker. He had to be the best at everything he did, or it wasn’t worth it to try. An infuriating mindset to watch, especially for someone so keen on experimenting with new crafts and interests, but he could understand where it came from.

Again, Mallum shook his head, pulling away from the pot once more and mumbling something Zurven couldn’t quite hear. 

“Come again?”

Finally, Mallum turned towards him. Not fully, but enough for his words to be made audible.

“I didn’t mean the clay.”

As the admittance left his mouth, he tucked his chin slightly, seeming almost embarrassed that he needed to clarify. Zurven simply stared, not reacting, and waited for him to elaborate. He looked like he’d give anything to dodge the bronzeblood’s gaze, but he chose instead to meet his eye and continue.

“You seem alright with me being here,” Mallum began, twiddling his thumbs. “I… I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Then don’t.”

That earned Zurven a look of mild exasperation.

“I can’t control that.”

“Your own actions?”

Another deadpan look sent his way, and Zurven felt the corner of his mouth turning up. He was quick to correct it, of course. The guy’s ego was inflated enough as it stood– he couldn’t go thinking he was fun to be around or something.

Mallum spared a glance at his poorly-constructed pinch pot. “How they’ll turn out.”

“I think they’ve been turning out fine,” Zurven countered, drawing the seadweller’s attention back towards him.

“It’s just…” Mallum sighed, dragging a hand down his face and immediately yanking it away when he remembered where it’d been. His quick reaction wasn’t quite enough to prevent a small streak of clay from affixing itself to his cheek, and Zurven’s grin came creeping back. 

Seeing the look on his face, Mallum surveyed his arms for a clean spot and tried to rub the mess away, missing it by a hair.

“Why is your clay so wet?” He asked, whatever point he intended to make now pushed aside in favor of preserving his dignity.

“Yeah, that wasn’t the clay’s fault.”

“Did I get it?”

Zurven nodded, still staring gleefully at the offending mark. “Uh-huh. You were saying?”

His prompting seemed to remind Mallum of what he’d been meaning to express, and his expression clouded over. “I don’t… wanna misread your intentions. I’m worried about ruining shit, or creeping you out or something. But I’m not the type to just… pine for someone. So. Can we talk? About this?”

“Sure. What exactly are we talking about?” Zurven knew, obviously. This conversation had been a long time coming, as far as he was concerned. But he wanted to hear Mallum say it.

“Y’know, that. I like you? And it… seems like you like me?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s a little surprising to me too. Seems like you’ve got all the information.” 

In an instant, Mallum’s anxious expression melted away, leaving in its place a goofy–and frustratingly charming–grin. “Then… You wanna do something about it?” 

“Depends on what you had in mind.”

“How ‘bout a date?”

Again, Zurven found himself smiling. “I can do a date,” he replied, reaching up to wipe the clay from Mallum’s cheek.

#mallum ic #guest star! #writing #nobodies #zurven #last chunk of zurven dialogue pulled directly from months old dms wif chase fank u chase #flashback + 1 #mallum writing

[dumplingsjinson]

Are people really trying to assume your gender from a pic of your hand and foot? My god they must be BORED ASF if that's what they're doing😭 I pity them. I don't think I've ever been that bored or unsatisfied with my life😮‍💨 Besides your pronouns are she/her, what about that do they not understand? Will never understand people who are so nosy and unsatisfied not knowing every aspect of another person's life.

Anyways, I LOVE the tattoo and the wrist band (Also read abt the Castify thing and they're definitely assholes for that) and whichever other tattoos you feel like sharing I can't wait to see honestly😂

Sorry if I came outta the blue I like your blog a lot, both your prompts and just reading the slightly unhinged(dw me too) stuff you post🫶🏼✨

Naurrr, for real. The way they said it (and maybe I read the tone wrong, because it's easy to misread that type of stuff on the internet so maybe it wasn't meant to sound that way) sounded insulting asf and ngl, I was seething for a second when I read it because bruhhh. The audacity of some people.

And AHAHA, thank you!!! I'm actually getting another one next week (impulse decision, but the artist I follow on Instagram posted a cute design and they had slots open for next week and I might be just slightly addicted) so mayhaps I'll post my "man vibes" (kjesbfjkewbelf) forearm sometime soon <33

And you're all good lololol, I'm glad you enjoy the prompts and my correction: vERY unhinged stuff HAHAHAA. Love ya 🥰

#asks #not prompts

[unclewaynemunson]

Hello. For your prompts, 14, Ronance if you please. :)

Aaahh I knew you were gonna ask for ronance if you'd see that post :D As always, thank you, I love spewing out some more ronance content again :)))

14. things you said after you kissed me

Nancy rested her forehead against Robin's, panting, shutting her eyes to hold onto that addicting sensation of Robin's lips against her own.

'Nancy,' Robin whispered into the space between their faces, and it made Nancy pull back slightly, so she could properly see Robin's face. There was something in the way Robin had said her name that made her feel like something was wrong - and the look on Robin's face confirmed that. Her eyebrows were arched into a frown, and she was nervously biting on her lower lip.

'I don't think I can do this anymore.'

Nancy could feel how her mouth fell open, how a What?! stayed stuck in her throat, because what the hell? Why was this happening? She couldn't have misread it all, could she? All those times they had passionately made out over the past weeks, going on dates, enjoying each other's company, both clearly excited by what they were building together... Was Robin already tired of it before it could even grow into something more serious? Or had she been playing pretend this whole time? Had Nancy been stupid and lovesick enough to miss all kinds of clues that were right in front of her? How could she have been so wrong about what Robin felt for her?

By the time she finally managed to get the What the hell? out of her throat, Robin's frown had grown even more anxious.

'I am so sorry, Nancy, I just - I think if we don't stop this, I'll start caring too much about you and I can't do that. You're the prettiest girl I ever met, and you're super smart and cool and interesting and I can never stop smiling when I'm around you, and when we kiss, I just feel so much, it's like I'll explode, and I just - I can't take it anymore.'

Nancy stared at Robin, desperately trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

'You wanna break up with me because you... like me too much?'

It sounded even more ridiculous saying it out loud, but Robin nodded like it made complete sense.

'I'm so sorry - I probably should've told you way sooner, but I didn't know how to bring it up and I was really enjoying this whole thing so I didn't wanna ruin it, but - I'm a lesbian, Nance.'

Nancy started to feel like she and Robin were having two entirely different conversations with each other.

'Yeah, I know,' she said, unable to keep the annoyance at her complete incomprehension about what the fuck was happening out of her voice.

'You know?' Robin echoed, as if that was some big surprising revelation.

'Um, yeah, it'd be pretty weird to be dating you if you weren't, wouldn't it?'

'Wait, what?' Robin now stared at her with an expression that matched exactly how confused Nancy was feeling. 'We're dating?!'

'Are we not dating?!' Nancy all but yelled back at her. 'Wait - what did you think this was, exactly?'

'I dunno, you trying some new things to get over Jonathan or something - were we dating this whole time?'

'Do you think I shove my tongue down all my friends' throats?!'

A blush was rapidly coloring Robin's cheeks in a burning shade of red. 'Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit crazy,' she muttered.

She wasn't quite looking into Nancy's eyes anymore, and Nancy grabbed one of Robin's hands while gently cupping the other one around Robin's chin to get her to look at her again.

'Robbie,' she said, softly, 'I like you so, so much. I had no idea you didn't know. But just to make things super clear: I think you're insanely hot, and you're the funniest person I know, and I love spending time with you, and I am addicted to the way you kiss me. Do you wanna date me? Officially?'

Slowly, a smile started to spread over Robin's face, finally chasing away that anxious frown. It was a truly beautiful sight.

Robin nodded. 'Yeah, I'd like that,' she said, sounding slightly breathless.

Nancy rested her forehead against Robin's again, tangled her fingers in the lower ends of her hair.

'I can't believe you didn't know.' An involuntary giggle escaped her lips, causing Robin to give her a playful nudge against her shoulder.

'Can we go back to kissing, please, so I won't have to suffer you making fun of me?'

Nancy leaned forward into Robin's space, softly pressing their lips together, but pulling back before it could turn into a real kiss. She smiled.

'Yeah, we can definitely do that. I'll save the making fun of you for afterwards.'

#prompt list #needed some ronance idiots to lovers :D #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[quickspinner]

Of Course

I’m your LBSC secret santa @nerdypanda3126 ! Again! 😂

The prompt was “ Everyday small acts that add up to make Marinette realize she loves Luka” https://youtu.be/89ZU6atnx70

It was a great prompt and I really enjoyed it, so I hope you enjoy the results. (I may have misread that slightly to Marinette realizing Luka loved her, but I think I have both, so I hope you still like it!)

Rules are 3 15 minute sprints and 24 hours to edit. I totally broke the 24 hours to edit; I got the bones done in the 3 15 minute sprints but I had to add a lot to make it into a coherent narrative afterwards. 

Read on AO3

If this film festival award wasn’t such a big deal for Nino, Marinette would have chucked the box of decorations she was toting into the river and gone home. It was just too damn early , and she was never good with early, and of course everything had gone wrong. She had overslept, and then tripped over the box that she had packed the night before and had to repack it, and she’d run out without breakfast. She couldn’t even duck in a cafe and grab a coffee thanks to the giant box in her hands. 

She heard Alya’s dry voice saying, “—start decorating whenever Marinette gets here,” as she huffed up to the houseboat.

“I’m here,” she called breathlessly, quickening her pace. “I’m coming!” 

“Kim, go get the box before she trips,” Alya ordered urgently, and Marinette yelped and very nearly did lose her balance as the box was unexpectedly taken from her. She managed to catch herself and stood for a minute, flushed from embarrassment now as well as exertion. 

“Okay, that’s everyone for setup, except—” Alya frowned down at her tablet, and then looked around. “Where’s Luka? He was here a second ago.”

“Right here,” Luka said, and they all turned to look up the sidewalk. Luka was walking towards them with a cardboard drink tray in his hand. “Some of us aren’t exactly morning people,” he said with a tired-looking smile. He pulled a cup out of the carrier and handed it to Juleka, who sighed gratefully as she took it. He gave Marinette a sympathetic smile and handed her the second cup.

“You didn’t bring any for the rest of us?” Alya complained as Luka took the last cup for himself, tossing the tray in a recycling bin.

Luka shrugged. “Figured everyone else who wanted it would have one already.” He tilted his head towards Alix, Nathaniel, and Marc, who were leaning tiredly on each other in a precarious formation that swayed slightly with the motion of the deck. All held to-go cups with different cafe logos on the side. “You were twenty minutes earlier than anyone else,” Luka added with a grin. “Either you already had some or you don’t need it.” 

Alya pouted but couldn’t exactly argue with that, and returned to her tablet. “Whatever. Okay, Alix, you’re on—”  

Marinette tuned her out, focusing on the scent and warmth of her coffee before she took a sip. It was just sweet enough to take the edge off the bitterness. “You’re wonderful,” she sighed, and Luka chuckled.

“I think we should all get credit just for being here at this time of day,” he grinned. 

“You’re always here,” Marinette giggled, and then added, “Thanks for letting us use the boat for Nino’s party.” 

“You know we’re always up for a party.” 

Marinette raised her eyebrows as she looked at him, and then turned to look at Juleka, before returning her gaze to Luka. 

Luka shrugged. “I like parties as long as I have somewhere to retreat when I need a minute. At least having them here means I have that. As anxious as Juleka gets about the planning, she likes the attention, and she likes seeing her friends have fun. I talked to her last night, I’m pretty sure she’s genuinely excited about it.”

“You take such good care of her,” Marinette observed, a bit wistfully.

“Of course I do,” Luka said easily. “She’s my sister. I love her.” 

“I’m not your sister,” Marinette teased, nudging his shoulder with hers. 

Luka laughed. “No. No, you’re not.” He gave her an amused look.

“But you take care of me.” She wiggled her cup of coffee at him. 

His grin widened, though his gaze slid off to the side. “Of course I do.” 

Before she could respond, Alya barked out Luka’s name. They both looked up as Alya read out instructions. Chuckling softly, Luka knocked his shoulder gently against Marinette’s as he went to obey. 

***

Marinette was too busy to think about his words much after that, though an unsettled feeling lingered in the back of her mind, and she found her gaze following Luka every time he passed by her. Some of it, no doubt, was that he’d shed his jacket as the day got warmer. Seeing him in short sleeves, without all those layers, was always a bit distracting, and the chunky bracelets he wore drew her attention to his forearms, and Alya had him lifting and carrying all sorts of junk around the boat, and— 

“Marinette?” Juleka asked, and Marinette jerked her gaze quickly away from the door Luka had just disappeared through. 

“Hm?”

Juleka hid a smile behind her hair. “You were saying?” She held up the old vinyl record Marinette had painted and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, yes, that one goes there,” she pointed to a blank spot in the line of vinyls they were assembling on deck. She fidgeted with the roll of twine they would use to assemble the painted records into a banner that would hang over the boat’s side—hopefully spelling out their congratulations, if she didn’t get confused and hang them up backwards or something. 

Juleka leaned and reached to put the record in place, and then picked up the next one in the stack 

Both girls jumped when a pair of water bottles thumped onto the deck in front of them. 

“Sun’s getting high,” Luka grinned down at them. He crouched and pulled a battered tube of sunscreen out of his pocket, offering it to Marinette although he spoke to both of them. ”It’s brutal with the glare on the water. Better lather up.”  

“Right. I should have thought of that,” Marinette gasped, taking the tube. She dabbed some of the cool cream on her cheeks, suddenly aware of how warm they were. Luka and Juleka spoke in low voices as she spread the sunscreen on her arms, and then Marinette offered the sunscreen to Juleka. Juleka mumbled thanks, and Luka smiled as he looked back at Marinette. 

“You have a little bit right here,” he said, motioning to his own cheek. He reached towards her. Marinette held her face up for him and let him rub in the smear of sunscreen with the rough pad of his thumb. She was suddenly conscious of how much the coconut and ocean scent reminded her of him, of times when he was close and his eyes were soft on her like they were now. 

She cleared her throat. “Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, trying to smile. 

“Of course,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need a hand when you’re ready to hang this. I don’t want you falling overboard.” 

Marinette gasped while Juleka giggled. “Rude!” Marinette pouted, crossing her arms.

He winked. “Just looking out for you, like you said.”

“Of course you are,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes. 

“Of course I am,” he agreed, and for some reason, she blushed. 

“Luka!” Alix shouted from the far side of the deck, “Can you move this thing? We don’t have enough room over here!” 

Luka sighed. “Back to work,” he grumbled, rising easily to his feet.

“He’s such a pain,” Marinette complained to Juleka, who snorted.

“Tell me about it,” she said. 

***

Finally the boat was decorated to Alya’s satisfaction, and everyone left to get ready. Marinette lingered, chatting with Luka and Juleka as they lounged around the unusually clean deck, until Luka reminded her that she had better go home and get ready if she was going to be on time for the party.

Realizing he was right, she ran back home. Flushed and flustered, Marinette had to use some of Luka’s breathing exercises to calm herself and order her mind. She didn’t want to end up knocking all her things over or making a mess due to nerves.

She’d gone for a more bodycon style in her dress tonight, color blocked with pink, black, and white panels, with her flowers embroidered on the vertical black panel that ran down one side. The thin straps kept wanting to slide down her shoulders, but at least it didn’t have any extra fabric to flare out and knock things over. She put on a cropped sweater over it. With as many people as would be on the boat tonight, she might not need the sweater, but it was always best to be prepared for the wind off the river. Marinette slipped on a pair of strappy black heels that she knew she would regret later, but they did make her legs and ass look great. 

She took the metro to the boat this time, not wanting to put any more strain on her feet than necessary, nor risk wind and sweat mussing the hair and makeup she’d done so carefully. 

She wasn’t exactly early, but she was much more on time than usual when she stepped carefully onto the boat. Luka grinned when he saw her.

“How do I look?” she asked, doing a quick turn for him. 

“Perfect,” he told her, eyes skimming over her appreciatively. His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment and Marinette felt a little thrill. It was always nice to be noticed, and Luka’s praise was always honest. “That lipstick is fantastic for you,” he said, and she curled her lips in a deliberately pouty pink smile. 

“You don’t think it’s too boring?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he said, still looking at her mouth. “You look like you’d taste like cotton candy.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased, and Luka laughed.

“Of course I would,” he said, and then added, “I like your hair. It’s getting long.” 

“I’ve been thinking about cutting it,” she admitted, running a careful hand over it. She’d managed to get it curled so that it hung in waves, and she didn’t dare mess with it too much or it would go completely flat. “But it’s kind of fun having it long too. I can’t decide.”

Luka shrugged. “It’s only hair. It grows back. It looks nice this way though. 

“Marinette,” Alya called urgently, waving at her from the upper deck. “Come here!” 

“Duty calls,” Marinette sighed, and Luka chucked her chin lightly.

“Make sure you have some fun tonight. All work and no play, and all that.” 

“I will.” Marinette smiled, and dared to pop up on her toes and kiss his cheek. “I’ll look for you after you play.” 

After that, it was a whirlwind of last minute fixes, adjustments, and then the man of the hour was climbing on board, and Marinette screamed along with the rest as they all applauded Nino, who blushed and tried to hide under the cap he was still wearing even though Alya had made him dress up. 

Then the party got started. Marinette circled the crowd, greeting and chatting and socializing while keeping one eye on Luka on the stage. Red cups were circulating through the crowd, and Marinette got her own, sipping lightly from it as she fulfilled her social responsibilities.

A commotion at the gangplank signaled that he had arrived. Marinette rolled her eyes behind her cup as he greeted his friends with his new girl on his arm. By the time they got to her, she was able to muster a genuine smile for both of them. She was able to be polite until they were swept away by another group of friends. Then, her face must have given her away, because when the band retired from the stage, Luka wound his way through the crowd to lean on the rail beside her, a red plastic cup in his hand. 

“Doing okay?” he asked, and Marinette had to smile. 

“I’m fine,” she said, with a little toss of her head. “It’s no big deal.” 

“I thought you were over him,” Luka murmured, inspecting the gold liquid in his cup. 

“I am,” Marinette huffed. “I’m just being petty.” She paused to consider. “And jealous. Not jealous like, I want him to be paying attention to me, but jealous like…what does she have that I didn’t? Don’t? Whatever.” She made a face. “It’s stupid, but at least if we’d dated and broken up then I’d feel like he noticed me.” 

Luka didn’t answer, and Marinette groaned. “I’m ridiculous,” she muttered. “Pretend you don’t know this about me.” 

Luka chuckled. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Marinette.” 

“You always say that,” she sighed, and then turned to him. “Dance with me?” 

“Sure,” he said, shifting his weight off the rail on and looking down at her. “Need a distraction?” 

“No, not like that,” Marinette smiled, taking his hand. “I just want to leave Pettynette in the corner and go have some fun. I always have fun dancing, and I always have fun with you, so…” she shrugged. “Will you dance with me?” 

“Of course I will,” he grinned. “Let’s go have some fun.” He put his cup down on one of the many crates that had been shoved into this corner, and took her other hand as well, leading her over to where a small knot of people were already dancing in front of the DJ booth.

Neither of them were great dancers, but neither of them particularly cared. Marinette allowed herself to enjoy having Luka’s hands on her, and if he pulled her a little closer whenever he happened to be near, Marinette didn’t mind at all. Arms around Luka’s neck, she was happy to lean into him and forget anyone else even existed. 

She was just beginning to get a stitch in her side when someone hollered her name across the deck. By the time she turned in the right direction, she found Alix’s finger in her face.

“I challenge you!” Alix crowed, and then swung her finger around to point at the beer pong table set up at the far end of the deck.

“You’re the only one here about the same size as her,” Max explained helpfully. “Everyone else presents a disadvantage from size alone.” 

“Marinette’s too uptight to play,” Kim grinned, folding his arms. “Just forfeit, Alix.” 

“Never!”

Marinette’s mouth dropped in outrage. “I am not uptight,” she exclaimed. “I just—” She flushed, unsure how to explain the constant fear that something would go wrong, even though the worst of the danger was past with Hawkmoth’s defeat. What if something did happen? What if she got confused and let something slip? She had too many secrets to be comfortable getting drunk. Knowing her, she would start to lose and then stupidly transform to prove she wasn’t a wuss and then everyone would know and she’d be in the tabloids as drunk Ladybug and—

A touch on her arm made her look up at Luka. 

“Go ahead if you want to,” he told her, bending close so that no one else could hear. “I haven’t had that much, I’ll make sure you’re okay. You can stay here if it’s not safe for you to go home after.” He brushed her hair back, lightly touching her ear in the process. “I’ll keep you from spilling secrets, and I’ll take care of anything that comes up,” he promised softly. 

Marinette looked up at him, touched. “You’d do that for me?” 

“Of course I would,” he said, squeezing her arm. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she whispered, and quickly took her earrings off under the cover of her hair, passing them into his palm as casually as she could. She hadn’t ever intended for him to know, but he’d confessed what he’d seen as Viperion. As terrifying as it had been at the time for her to realize someone knew, in the years since he’d found out her secret, he had kept it as sacred as she ever could have wished. Of course she trusted him.. 

“Go have fun,” he said, jerking his chin towards Alix, still smirking by the table. “I promise I’ll make sure there’s no disasters, personal or professional.”

Marinette smiled at him, then whirled and marched up to the beer pong table. “All right, you’re on,” she declared, and Alix whooped. 

They were about evenly matched in the beginning, but as the cups began to empty, Marinette began to giggle, and things started to get silly. 

True to his word, though, Luka was there, wrapping a hand around the sharp corner of the table before she could bump a hip into it, murmuring a caution in her ear, casually fixing a strap on her dress when she insisted on struggling out of her sweater. Later he came up behind her and smoothed her hair back, tying it up when it threatened to dip in the drinks as she leaned over the table. He pressed a cup of water into her hand several times, and pounded on her back when she choked on it because she couldn’t seem to stop laughing. 

She lost the game in the end, not nearly as practiced either at drinking or at beer pong than Alix, but by then everything seemed so funny she didn’t care. Her demand for a rematch was somewhat garbled, and she swayed on her feet before leaning heavily on Luka. He pressed another cup of water into her hand, which she eventually drained between helpless giggles. Luka’s hand felt good rubbing her back. Somehow hers had ended up on his chest. That did some funny things to her insides, and she considered moving her hands to his shoulders instead, but got distracted just looking at them. Luka shifted her to his side, and she got even more distracted with the tattoos on his arm, giggling again as she found and traced hidden shapes in the lines that were only visible to drunk people.

Eventually the buzz faded enough that she got her hilarity under control, and began to feel tired and a little sick. She hid her face in Luka’s shoulder, muffling a groan.

“Ready to call it a night?” he asked. “I think things are winding up anyway.” Marinette nodded, and he steered her towards the door to the lower decks.

“‘M sorry,” Marinette mumbled, leaning on Luka as he guided her down the stairs.

“Don’t be sorry,” Luka chuckled. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a party. You’re supposed to have let loose a little.” 

“I’m such a pain,” she moaned. 

“You’re not,” he told her, readjusting the arm around her waist, and lifting hers over his shoulder. “You deserve to have a little fun. As long as you had a good time, I don’t mind.” 

Marinette groaned again. “I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?” 

“No, you didn’t,” he chuckled. “Everyone thought it was cute. You're a giggly drunk. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to loosen up a little. It made me happy to see it. Step up.” He helped her step through the bulkhead and into the room he shared with Juleka. 

“Nooooo,” Marinette groaned, as she realized where they were. “Lukaaaaa that’s your bed. I can’t take away your bed!” 

“You’re not taking it away,” he said gently, as he lowered her to sit on it. “I’m giving it to you.” He knelt down and pulled her shoes off. 

“I hate those shoes,” Marinette grumbled. “Why did I wear them? They always make my feet hurt.” 

“Because they make your legs look amazing,” Luka grunted, wrapping his arm around her knees and swinging her legs up on the bed. “Go on, lay down.”

He barely had time to catch her when she flopped back, keeping her head from smacking the wall.. “Woah, take it easy,” he scolded, “Scoot down a little.” Marinette obediently shimmied her butt a little further down towards the foot of the bed, and Luka lowered her down. 

“The room is still spinning,” she muttered.

“Do you feel sick?” Luka asked, sitting down at the foot of the bed and taking her feet into his lap. 

She took a moment to consider, but let out a moan as his thumbs pressed into the sole of her foot.. 

“Marinette?” he repeated, still gently massaging. “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

“No,” she mumbled. “Just heavy now. Tired.” 

“Can you drink some water if I bring you some?” he asked, switching feet. 

Marinette whimpered. “I’m so much trouble,” she muttered. “I should’ve stuck to soda.”

“You’re a joy, Marinette.” He leaned over her, and after a moment Marinette realized he was replacing her earrings. 

“I think you’re sober enough to take these back now,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

“You’re so good to me,” Marinette sighed.

Luka chuckled. “Of course I am.” 

Marinette’s eyelids fluttered and she frowned, the words sparking in her mind somehow. It felt like the moment before she figured out a lucky charm—but she dozed off before it connected.

***

Predictably, Marinette woke with a headache. Her mouth tasted terrible. Moaning softly, she rolled over and blinked sleepily. After a moment, her eyes focused on two glasses of water, a bottle of pills, and a tin of mints sitting on the amp next to the bed. She smiled, and pushed herself upright enough to reach over and grab the pills. It took her a minute to get the bottle open, and then she groped for the water to wash the medicine down. That made her mouth feel less cottony but she still dug a mint out of the tin before laying back down with a sigh. The peppermint taste of the mint had the bonus of easing the queasiness in her stomach. She had a moment of longing for some real peppermint tea, but she was warm and comfortable and already dozing back off. 

When she woke again, her headache had eased some, and she felt considerably better. She looked over and saw Luka sitting up in his nest of blankets, reaching for the second glass of water and the pills. “Morning,” he rasped, when he saw that she was awake. He managed half a smile before downing the pills and water, and reaching for the tin of mints himself. Marinette rolled on her side to face him and he shifted over to the bed, folding his arms on the mattress.

“How’re you feeling?” he rumbled, blinking sleepy eyes. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and Marinette smiled.

“Okay,” she whispered. “You take such good care of me.”

“Of course I do,” he said with a smile, resting his cheek on one arm and letting his eyes fall closed. 

Marinette stared at him as memories of the day before came back in a rush. That day, and so many before that, of Luka covering for her, reminding her, caring for her. Of course he did , she realized, and that missing piece finally fell into place. Of course he did, because…he loved her. 

It had been a slow epiphany, but it dawned on Marinette now with all the certainty of sunrise. Luka had been loving her in small ways for years, and she would be a fool to keep letting fear hold her back from letting him love her completely…as she loved him.

There were crease marks on his face, and she giggled, reaching out to cup his cheek and run her thumb over them. Eyes still closed, Luka leaned into her hand.

“I love you too,” she said, and couldn’t help her grin as his eyes flew open, suddenly wide awake. 

Marinette let her fingers slip back and curl around the nape of his neck, drawing him forward. His eyes closed as she kissed him, once, soft and slow, making sure to linger long enough that he couldn’t think he’d imagine it. When she pulled back, he stared at her, mouth slightly open. 

Marinette held his gaze but relaxed back on his pillow, waiting for him to respond. He wasn’t any more of a morning person than she was, after all, and he’d probably been up later. Besides, his confused face was kind of cute. She bit her lip to keep from giggling, waiting for him to work through his feelings and process the situation. As the surprise on his face gave way to affection and soft joy, she reached out for him again.

A slight tug on his shirt was all the encouragement he needed to climb up into the bed with her. They arranged themselves on the narrow bed, face to face, and Luka smiled as he touched her face, the rough pad of one finger catching on her lower lip. 

“A guy could get used to this,” he whispered, dropping a hand to her hip to tug her a little closer. “I’d really like to get used to this,” he admitted in a rush of breath that turned into a quiet, giddy laugh. He buried his face in Marinette’s neck, inhaling deeply. Marinette tried not to cringe. She hoped she didn’t smell too much like alcohol and sweat. Then Luka kissed her shoulder before pressing his face into her again. “You’re warm,” he murmured, and Marinette wrapped her arms around him. “It’s really real?” he asked softly, and Marinette turned her head to kiss his temple. Then she grinned wickedly into his hair.

“Will you kiss me again and make sure?” Luka laughed and lifted his head to smile affectionately at her. “Of course I will. Every day, if you’ll let me.”  

Marinette giggled. “Of course I will,” she echoed back to him, and there were no more words for quite a long time. 

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #quicksprints #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #pro lukamari

[engie-ivy]

wolfstar prompt with the song little freak by harry styles?

(@jessiefleming First of all, thank you for introducing me to these songs! I didn't know them, but absolutely loved them and have listened to them so much afterwards. Which is also why this took me sooo long, I just couldn't come up with a fic good enough to do one of the songs justice😅 Still don't think this one does, but I hope it's okay! Sorry for the wait!)

Trigger warning: child abuse

Inspired by the song Mathilda by Harry Styles

Though Sirius Black was James' best friend and Remus’ first love, apparently he didn't think he owed them more than a phone call from the airport before leaving for good. Just a phone call, never an explanation.

Years pass with Remus thinking about Sirius Black less and less. Until Orion Black gets involved in a great scandal, and the fall-out reveals some shocking truths about the Black family, which put everything in a new perspective.

Leaving And Growing Up

Remus was sixteen when he last saw Sirius Black.

They were high school, and it was summer. Remus remembers how full of anticipation he had been. Something had been brewing between Remus and Sirius, and it had felt like there was some sort of unspoken agreement that that summer was going to be their summer.

And it all started so wonderful. Picnics at the park where they were sitting so close their legs were brushing, swimming in the lake with looks that lingered too long, Sirius riding his bike with Remus sitting at the back holding on slightly too tight.

But then there was the phone call.

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Sirius! What’s up? I’ve hardly spoken to you this week.”

“N- nothing much. I- I’m just…”

“Sirius? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s all alright. I’m... at the airport right now.”

“The airport? Are… are you going somewhere?”

“I’m leaving, Remus.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“...why didn’t you mention before that you were leaving for the summer?”

“I’m not.”

“But you just said…”

“I’m leaving for good, Remus.”

“How… how do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Remus.”

“But why?”

“I can’t… I’m not… I just have to.”

“Sirius, I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, Remus. I’m sorry.”

Remus had been a right mess after that. Sobbing when he saw a happy couple, curling up in bed with a stash of chocolate, listening to sad music or watching romantic movies that only made him more sad. In short, he had been a teenager who just suffered his first heartbreak.

Remus had crying and talking to his friends a lot. Mostly Lily. Whenever he mentioned Sirius’ name around James, he would completely shut down. He had, after all, been hurt in not quite the same, but a similar way. He and Sirius had been practically inseparable, and then Sirius had gone and left without an explanation or even saying goodbye in person.

But Remus was the one who had let himself believe there had been something more than friendship. After Sirius left, Remus had spent weeks trying to convince himself that he had misread the situation, that it had been all in his head, that Sirius simply hadn’t cared that much.

Now, the days when Remus thought about Sirius every day, when he could burst into tears simply because the sky had the exact same shade of grey as Sirius’ eyes that day, were far behind him. That’s just how those things go, you grow up and move on.

Which doesn’t mean there won’t always be something special about Sirius Black. You just never love the way you love when you’re in love for the first time, when you go in without any restraints and give yourself completely. After your first heartbreak, there’s always a sense of caution, always something you hold back.

Remus must admit, lately, he’s been thinking about Sirius Black more often. Though that isn’t strange, with how the name Black has been circulating in the news lately.

Orion Black and Lucran Lestrange, both well-known, successful business men, had always been business partners, and old friends on top of that. However, when Antonin Dolohov was arrested for fraud, both Black and Lestrange wanted to take over his company, and it lead to a massive fall-out between the two men. They became embroiled in a very public dispute, that was mostly fought out through the media, with both sides engaging in dirty smear campaigns against the other.

And people can’t get enough of it.

They can’t get enough of seeing the men, who always seemed so poised, so dignified, had such an air of being far above everyone else over them, sink so low as to publicly trash each other and air each other’s dirty laundry.

Remus doesn’t care much for it. To him, it’s all a bunch of rich people drama. He knows that it involves Sirius’ father, but he’s never met the man. Maybe that should’ve been his first hint that Sirius just wasn’t that serious about him; he never introduced Remus to his family.

Remus hears the door open.

“Rem, you home?” James calls out from the living room.

“In the study,” Remus replies.

He doesn’t look up from his thesis as James walks in. “Have you heard?” James asks.

“Heard what?” Remus replies absentmindedly. “Did some team I’ve never heard about beat some other team I’ve never heard about in some game I don’t know the rules of?”

“No,” James says, and the tone of his voice makes Remus look up. James looks solemn and his jaw is tight. “I mean the latest development in the whole Black/Lestrange situation.”

Remus makes a face. “Since when do we care about rich people drama?”

“No, I mean...” James shakes his head. “Never mind, you clearly haven’t heard, or you would know what I’m talking about.” James pulls out his phone, searches for something, and slides the phone over to Remus.

Curiosity peaked, Remus picks up the phone and starts to read the article on James has pulled up.

Respectable Family Man or Aggressive Abuser: The Dark Side of Orion Black

The public feud between Orion Black and Lucran Lestrange has just reached a new low. Yesterday, a document containing damaging revelations about Orion Black’s private life, now knows as The Black Pages, was delivered at several major media outlets.

The Black Pages contain documentation from Child Protection Services, classified police reports, and several medical files the oldest dating back approximately eight years. And to say that they that they place Orion Black in a negative light would be an understatement.

So, what do these pages tell us?

Overall, they paint a picture of ongoing violent behaviour from Orion Black towards his two sons, and especially his eldest son, Sirius Black, eventually escalating on July 27th six years ago to the point where the children, then aged 14 and 16, were removed from the house on police orders.

A look at the documentation from Child Protection Services tells us that two years prior to the escalation, the bureau had already received multiple alerts indicating potential mistreatment of the children. A teacher of Sirius Black, Ms M. McGonagall, alerted the authorities that she had noticed something was off regarding the boy’s homelife, a cousin, A. Black, went so far as to warn the authorities that her uncle was abusing his children, and also a nurse at St. Mungo’s Hospital blew the whistle after she had treated Sirius Black for suspicious injuries several times and did not trust the situation.

“Sometimes these warning signals are missed,” Bathilda Bagshot, forensic psychologist who holds a PhD in child protection and regularly advices the authorities on how to deal with difficult situations involving minors, tells us. “In a bureaucratic system, when different alerts come in from different sources and are processed by different people, in some cases they are not put together, and a potential harmful situation can be overlooked.”

However, according to the reports, no action was taken. Only when, on that July 27th, a violent altercation between Sirius Black and his father escalated to the point where the boy ended up in the hospital, the police was called.

According to the police report, Orion Black agreed to have his sons removed from his custody and placed in the care of their uncle and godfather, Alphard Black, who lives in France, but was visiting at the time, and offered to take the children. In return, besides having to pay a fine, no further charges were pressed against Orion Black.

“It could be that getting the children out of that situation was their first priority,” Bathilda Bagshot comments. “And once that goal was achieved, they decided there was no need for further action. Though the evidence of misconduct from Orion Black’s side seems so strong, that it certainly is strange he was not prosecuted and faced no further consequences. Though, the amount of money Orion Black paid the police force as his so-called ‘fine’ may have had something to do with that.” A spokesperson of the police informed us that they are looking into the matter and are not available for comment until more is clear about this specific situation.

While no one from Flucran Lestrange’s side has been willing to comment, it is widely assumed that The Black Papers come from their team, most likely collected by private investigators and bribery of corrupt employees with access to classified information, and spread in an attempt to further smear Orion Black’s name. “A successful attempt,” Bathilda Bagshot admits. “Though I’d say it’s a shame this public feud is being fought over the backs of these children, young adults by now.��

Editor’s note: At this moment, the authenticity of the files in The Black Pages is still being investigated

Remus looks up at James with wide eyes, all the colour drained from his face. “Is this... Is this true?”

“Like the article says,” James says. “They’re still checking the files on their realness, but... Well, it makes sense now, doesn’t it, Remus?”

“You’re telling me now? Like this?”

“I wish I could’ve...”

“You could’ve! You could’ve told me sooner! You could’ve said goodbye in person! Not like this, not a call from the bloody airport!”

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this, Remus.”

“Then why?”

“I didn’t want you to... I thought seeing you would be too... I’m sorry, Remus. There’s nothing else I can do.”

“It does make sense,” Remus whispers. “God, but it does.”

“Could we have known?” James asks. “Were there signs that we missed? Should we have known?”

Remus closes his eyes and allows himself to think back at that time like he hasn’t allowed himself in a long time.

Remus and Sirius riding their bikes side by side, their bikes shaking when they ride onto bumpy terrain.

Sirius grimacing and pressing a hand to his ribs.

Remus glancing over at him, “You okay?”

Sirius telling him “Yeah, just a little sore from football practice. No big deal.”

Sirius lifting his arms to tie up his hair, his shirt riding up revealing a bruise on his abdomen.

Remus asking “What’s that?”

Sirius smiling like it’s no big deal, “Just a little scuffle with Reg.”

The smile never reaching his eyes.

Remus opens his eyes and presses his palms against his legs to stop his hands from trembling. Like puzzle pieces falling into damn place.

Remus is still trying to process everything as he and James sit in his living room together.

“There were signs,” James concludes. “So how come none of it seemed especially alarming till now?”

“We were children,” Remus replies. “Moreover, we were children from safe, loving families who couldn’t even comprehend something like that even being possible. It just... would’ve never occurred to us.”

James doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, and to be honest, neither is Remus.

James shakes his head. “We were the closest people to him back then. Good god, he was like my brother! And I just allowed him to be on that situation.”

“It must’ve been so lonely,” Remus says softly. “Keeping all of that to himself.” Why? He thinks. Why didn’t he trust us?

Over the next weeks, it’s not only Orion Black’s name that’s been going around in the media, but also Regulus’ and, most of all, Sirius’. Remus learns what he never thought he would ever learn: details of Sirius Black’s life from after he left.

Sirius and his younger brother Regulus moved to Paris with their uncle Alphard, where they both finished high school without a problem, despite everything they had been through. Sirius studied Medicine, and afterwards, went to travel world, while Regulus actually came back to London to go to law school. Remus tries not to feel hurt by that, none of this is about him after all, but he can’t help the sting he feels at knowing that, while Regulus came back, Sirius never did.

“It has always been my wish to hold them accountable for what they did.” The young man is wearing a proper suit and his short, dark hair is neatly styled. He had a haughty air about him and seems calm and confident.

“But my brother wished to leave it in the past and keep it out of the media, and I have always respected his wishes. Well,” he says, calmly looking around at all the cameras and reporters around him. “It would seem that keeping it out of the media is no longer an option. As nothing is holding me back now, I am going to sue my parents for what they did to me and my brother.”

He now looks straight into the camera and a fierce shine appears in his eyes. “They will take responsibility and they will pay for what they did.”

Next to Remus on the couch, James shudders. “I would not want to face Regulus Black in a courtroom! Orion and Walburga Black should be very, very afraid.”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “I wouldn’t want to be them right now. I do hope he squeezes them for all they’re worth.”

The next time James walks into Remus’ apartment and asks “Have you heard?”, Remus has, in fact, heard.

Sirius has agreed to testify in his brother’s lawsuit, which means, that for the first time in six years, Sirius Black will be coming back to London.

“You want to what?”

“Talk to him,” James replies from where he’s pacing the room. “I have all these questions, Remus! Could we have known if we had paid better attention? Was there a reason he felt like he couldn’t tell us? Was there something we could’ve done differently? I can’t stop thinking about these things and I need to ask him.”

“I understand that, James. Really, I do, but he’s coming for this lawsuit, and to support his brother. He’ll need to prepare his statement and prepare for the confrontation with his parents, and there’ll be lots of reporters and lawyers demanding his attention. Do you really think that’s a right time to go and bother him with our questions?”

“It’s a horrible time,” James states. “But it’s also the only time we’ve got. The only time we’re going to know where he is at what exact moment.”

“And the rest of the country with us,” Remus points out. “With all the craze surrounding him, many people are going to want something from him. Do you really think they’ll just let anyone walk into the courthouse and knock on Sirius’ door?”

“They’ll let press in,” James states. “I am press.”

“You’re a sports reporter!” Remus argues.

“If I show the security my press card, they’ll let me in. They won’t ask if they can read some of my work first.”

“I don’t know, James.” Remus shakes his head. “An attempt like that sounds kinda stupid and most likely to get you in trouble.”

James grins. “Well, then it’s perfectly fitting for how it used to be with Sirius and me, innit?”

“Kinda stupid and most likely to get you in trouble?” Remus asks, and then blinks. “Well, yeah, I guess that does sum it up.”

Remus doesn’t fully comprehend James’ plan actually worked until James and he slip into the room and quickly close the door behind them.

Remus remembers Sirius was good-looking. Of course he does. As a smitten sixteen-year-old, he has spent quite some time thinking about just that. And if his memory wasn’t enough, the photos of a young Sirius the tabloids and television have been showing were a good reminder.

But even though he knows Sirius was handsome as a boy, Remus quickly realises he’s wholly unprepared for how absolutely gorgeous he is as a young man.

Sirius whirls around from where he was looking out the window, and Remus gapes.

Where Sirius used to be rather skinny (oh god, was that also a sign they missed?), he’s now lean and muscular. His hair is still long, and his grey eyes still have that same piercing gaze, but his features have gotten sharper, more elegant.

Another realisation Remus has when standing there, in a backroom of the courthouse, across from Sirius Black for the first time in six years, is that he has been so focused on getting here, not really expecting to succeed, that he hasn’t thought about what to actually say to Sirius. What if Sirius is actually mad? (You were supposed to be my best friends, but you never did anything to help me, to absorbed in your own lives to even notice.) Or, the worst possibility of all, what if he’s completely indifferent? (Okay, so we used to go to school together, so what? I’ve got more important things to think about right now.)

“Ehm, hi,” James says, and it’s clear he hasn’t thought this far either, though James is never one to think too far ahead. “I don’t know if you remember us-”

“Jamie! Rem!” Sirius seems to have shaken himself out of his stupor, and he flings himself at them, wrapping them both in a hug, one arm around each of their necks. “God, it’s good to see you! I was hoping to I would! I figured it’d be nice to have a reminder that there were good things here as well, y’know? I tried to look you up, actually. I found James is now a sports reporter, but no addresses. I thought about going by James’ workplace, but I was worried that’d be too much.” Sirius lets go of them and pulls back a little, looking at them uncertainly. “I was afraid you’d still hate me...”

“We could never hate you, Sirius,” Remus says, having finally found his voice. “But good lord, did we try! You suddenly left, and I was so hurt, and so, so angry. But then, all of the sudden, this whole story comes out, and now I don’t know what to feel anymore.”

“Yeah, mate,” James says. “I could’ve never imagined that when I would see you again, it would be in a courthouse after having sneaked in with an army of reporters.”

Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “Why, James, you should’ve known I’d go for a dramatic reappearance!” Then he shakes his head. “But I guess this is all a bit much, yeah.”

“Mr Black!” A man in an expensive suit opens the door. He briefly frowns at Remus and James, before turning his attention back to Sirius. “Your brother requests your presence to go over your statement one more time.”

“Thank you, Bones. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

The man leaves again, and James shakes his head in wonder. “My, little Reggie Black has gained quite some confidence, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” Sirius says proudly. “But,” he adds with a frown. “Before it gets out of hand I will tell him that this was the first and the last time he has sent his attorney to fetch me. There are limits, after all.”

“You have a lot going on right now,” James says. “We should leave you to it.”

“What about coffee?” Sirius quickly asks. “Can we meet up for coffee tomorrow? Is The Three Broomsticks on Twelfth Street still open?”

“It is, that’s perfect!” James smiles. “We’ll see you there at eleven!”

He turns towards the door, and Remus moves to follow, throwing one last look at Sirius, but then he sees the way he’s wringing his hands, how his shoulders are set, and the tension in his jaw. He’s nervous, Remus thinks, and before he has given it any conscious thought, he moves forward on instinct and wraps Sirius in a tight hug wrapping his arms firmly around him.

After a moment of surprise, Sirius hugs him back, and Remus can feel his tension melt away. “Something bad was done to you,” Remus whispers. “Something that never should’ve happened, and you no longer have to pretend it’s alright. You can now tell the world your story.”

When Remus pulls back, Sirius looks at him with an expression Remus can’t quite define, but some of the anxiety in his eyes has made way for determination, and he gives Remus a grateful smile.

Remus ignores the look James gives him when he joins him at the door.

Sirius is perfect.

He comes across as likeable and charismatic during his testimony, and when he speaks, everything he says seems sincere and he gives clear and coherent answers.

The next morning, Remus is sitting with James at a table in The Three Broomsticks, waiting for Sirius.

Waiting for Sirius.

That still seems so surreal, Remus can barely believe it, can barely believe Sirius will actually walk through that door and join them.

But then he does.

Sirius steps into the cosy café, which is immediately followed by staring, pointing and whispering from the other guests. Sirius looks around searching, and when his eyes fall on James and Remus, his face lights up in a bright smile and he waves.

Remus feels something stir inside him. Convincing himself he has moved on and Sirius Black actually never cared that much anyway, is a whole lot harder with the man being right in front of him.

“Hiya!” Sirius says cheerfully. “I hope I’m not late?”

“Not at all,” Remus replies as Sirius sits down. “You’re just in time. We already ordered some tea and toast.”

Sirius beams at him and it strikes Remus how he is so much like he was before. Just more handsome.

“So...,” James begins, as everyone has a cup of tea. "I’ve been thinking a lot about before, when we were your friends. It’s probably none if my business, but it’s just been on my mind, and I keep having these questions. I guess the most important question is was there anything we could’ve done? Any signs that we missed? Was there something we did that made you feel like you couldn’t tell us?”

“Goodness, no!” Sirius exclaims. “If anything, you were too great.”

James and Remus look at him in confusion, and Sirius explains. “When I was with you, it was the first time I felt like I belonged. I could pretend like all that, father and mother, their rules and expectations, like all that didn’t exist. If only for a moment, I could pretend. I guess I just didn’t want to taint the one good thing I had in my life by bringing them into it.”

Remus supposes that makes sense. “It were two different worlds for you that you wanted to keep separate.”

Sirius nods. “I wasn’t lying or pretending when I was with you. I was genuinely happy during those times, I need you to know that. It was never an act.”

Remus hadn’t realized how much that had worried him until now, now that it feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. Their time together had been real.

With the tension out of the air, they naturally fall into comfortable conversation. Remus talks passionately about his PhD project, with Sirius looking at him with his head resting on his hand and a small smile on his face. James tells Sirius he got Lily to agree to go out with him before graduation, and Sirius hands him ten quid, and James tells him all his funny anecdotes from meeting and interviewing famous athletes. Sirius shares stories about living with his uncle, who was wholly unprepared to suddenly have two teenagers in his house, but did his best anyway, and he talks about his experiences while traveling the world, James and Remus listening with fascination.

It feels like how it was.

After some though weeks, Regulus wins his lawsuit. It’s a civil suit, not a criminal suit, so their parents won’t be facing any jail time, but they need to pay some very significant compensation to their children.

Remus knows Sirius doesn’t care about the money. What matters to him is that an impartial judge listened to his story and said ‘This was wrong, no one had the right to do this to you, and you didn’t deserve this’ for the whole world to hear.

After the judge gave his verdict, Sirius runs towards Remus and throws his arms around his neck. Remus doesn’t know for sure what he whispered as he hugged Sirius, but it must’ve been something like “you’re so strong, so brave, I’m so proud of you”.

It’s only later, when they left Sirius and Regulus to finalize some paperwork and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of James’ car, that he realises Sirius ran past Regulus, his uncle Al, his cousin Andy, James, his attorney, everyone, to fall into Remus’ arms.

It gives Remus a strange feeling in his chest.

Sirius throws Regulus a party that night to celebrate his big win.

At some point, Remus and Sirius are standing outside on the balcony, getting away from the crowd for a moment.

“You know, I really I thought I could let it go by just putting it in the past,” Sirius says, looking out over the city. “Move on and live my life without thinking about it, go and see the world, pretend it never happened. But this... Coming back here, telling my story, confronting them,-” he turns to look at Remus “-not giving them so much power that they can keep me away from also the good things that I left here, this is how I can truly let them go, truly know that they won’t hurt me anymore.”

“You are so strong,” Remus whispers before he can think about it. “You have shown me such power.”

Sirius chuckles. “I’d think it’s more thanks to Regulus’ power of persuasion than my strength.”

“Not just now,” Remus says, shaking his head. “Also back then. I didn’t know the situation back then, but maybe that’s why. You’ve always been such a great person. Things must’ve been so rough at times, so cruel and unfair, but you never let that stop you, let them stop you, from being good. You always made people laugh, you were always ready to help others, and you always had this smile, bright enough to bring light to the darkest of days.”

“It was easy,” Sirius immediately replies. “To smile. Whenever you were around, it was always easy.”

Remus has to look away from the intensity of Sirius’ gaze. “I wish we could’ve somehow... stayed in touch.”

“I thought it would only make it harder,” Sirius admits. “To watch from afar as you and James carried on with your lives, not being a part of it anymore. And I needed to carry on as well. I was always acting the way my parents wanted me to act, as not to anger them, or the exact opposite of that, just to aggravate them. Either way, I was always acting with them in mind. Never just for me. I had no idea what I wanted, who I was. And when I was with you and James, it was like getting a glimpse of who I could be. Leaving was my chance at a new start, and to really learn how to do things my way, I felt like I needed to do be doing it on my own. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remus says emphatically. “Not for leaving, not for doing it on your own. Not if that was what you needed.”

“I guess I don’t regret it,” Sirius says. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you terribly.” He lets out a laugh. “Good god, I was so in love with you back then!”

“You... you were?”

“Of course!” Sirius exclaims. “Surely, you must’ve known?”

“I...” Remus says hesitantly. “I’ve been convincing myself for the last six years that I had misread the situation, that it had all been in my head, so that how I felt afterwards changed the way I remember that time. Now, I guess it’s hard for me to see things the way they really were back then.”

“The way things really were,” Sirius says slowly. “Is that I missed you terribly back then,-” He reaches out and takes Remus’ hand. “-and have missed you every day since.”

Remus’ breath catches as he stares at Sirius. Slowly, he lifts a hand to lightly touch Sirius’ cheek, and Sirius immediately leans in to the touch.

It’s strange, Remus thinks, as he closes the distance and softly presses his lips against Sirius’. How it cost him months, years even, to accept that Sirius hadn’t really cared that much and to move on from him, but how it only costs a single moment to fall back in love with him.

#my tumblr writing #songfic mathilda by harry styles #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #regulus black #hurt sirius black #the most ancient and noble house of black #regulus black has had enough #james potter and sirius black

[squigglywindy]

Whumptober Day Five

Title: Every Whumpee's Needs

Prompts Used: Running out of air

Warnings: Asthma Be Annoying, but that's about it. There's a lil 'ah no death has come for me' moment, but it's just Drama (and it do be like that sometimes). Oh, horribly medically inaccurate treatment of asthma (don't try this at home it's like exactly the opposite of anything that could ever help)

Whumpee(s): Sky

Whumpometer: Like a two? I mean he's not having a good time but he was never not going to be okay

General Notes: Some of you know of my love for asthmatic Sky (projection who? Where? I don’t see any projection here…). Somebody made a bad call and I was allowed to make the rules; and I said a flower can be a bronchodilator if I need it to be

Sky: I can take anything you throw at me

Also Sky: *sprints three yards* Hold on I need a minute

And I felt that in my soul. And my lungs. Anyway, this one’s pretty chill. I wrote it at like three am and didn't really proof-read, so uh...have fun

It wasn’t a hard fight. They’d been through so much worse so many times, but alas, an easy fight wasn't always a good time.

They had been walking for a long time. There had been a small incident with a fire and consequential smoke. After that, it didn't take much. One more spin attack to take out a pesky keese and Sky knew he had participated in exactly one activity too many.

The vice around his lungs was subtle, at first. Like a single hand curling around his chest, squeezing and making it just a little bit harder to pull in a breath. But that hand tightened quickly, and the next breath he jerked in drew the eyes of everyone around him.

“Sky?” Twilight asked, concern clearly lacing his tone.

Sky waved him off half-heartedly, bracing a hand against a tree and dipping his head slightly, jerking in a breath that felt like it barely brushed the tops of his lungs. Somebody’s hand found its way to his shoulder and he couldn’t be bothered to check who it was. It didn’t matter how many times he pushed himself to breathlessness, it would always come with this undercurrent of panic. He knew he needed to breathe; but he couldn’t breathe. That would always be just a little scary, even if he had consistently gotten through it before.

He eventually flicked his eyes to the mysterious figure to find Four, who gave him a tiny smile and tugged on his arm, leading him to a stump and pushing him down.

Sky tried to thank him, but the breath he drew to do so caught halfway down his trachea and turned into a cough, which did absolutely nothing for his lungs, which felt like empty plastic bags, bound together by a rubber band.  He planted his free hand on one knee and leaned forward, twisting in a way he remembered helping in the past; but a series of coughs disrupted his plans and he was left wheezing, hand still curled around Four because the last thing he wanted to do was let go.

He heard Four talking, didn’t register the actual words, but looked up when Four pressed Sky’s hand to his chest, taking a deep exaggerated breath in a very sweet and helpful display of how he had completely misread what was going on.

“C’mon Sky, you can do it,” Sky tuned back in as Four rumbled quietly, so utterly calm because of course. They were the heroes of courage. One of them spiraling after a battle for one reason or another wasn’t exactly unheard of. “Deep breath, do it with me.”

Sky tried to listen, he really did, but it was always going to be a lost cause. He wanted to explain that their methods wouldn’t work, that they just had to wait it out, but if he had the air to do that then he wouldn’t have to.

“Hold on,” Hyrule pushed his way to the front of the cluster of Links, elbowing his way between Time and Warriors. “I think I know what’s going on. You're calm, aren’t you, Sky?”

That was a stretch, but Sky nodded anyway because it would put them on the right track. He finally released Four in favor of bracing himself to lean forward, wishing he’d listened to that voice in the back of his mind telling him to give them a heads up just in case. He hadn’t wanted to, and so now he was stuck; surrounded by eight oblivious incarnations of himself with not a molecule of oxygen to his name.

Hyrule nodded and snapped his fingers in victory. “Wild, you grabbed a ton of those orange flowers when we were in my Hyrule, right?”

It was an utterly ridiculous question, and Wild proved it when he nodded eagerly and stepped forward, pointing his slate toward the ground and tapping away until a veritable heap of bright orange flowers tumbled to the ground.

“What’re you doing, arranging his grave bouquet?” Legend snarked, earning a swat on the back from Time.

Hyrule shook his head, either not noticing or not caring that the question was asked in jest. “The air in my Hyrule’s pretty bad,” he revisited a point that was painfully familiar to all of them. “Lots of people have trouble with their lungs. These help.” He grabbed a flower off the ground and crouched in front of Sky. “I’m going to crush the pod in the middle and it’s going to send up a puff of spores. When that happens, you’re going to inhale for as long as you can and then hold it for a second. Got it?”

Sky was pretty sure Hyrule was talking nonsense, and he wasn’t all that clear on what a spore was supposed to be, but he nodded because he trusted Hyrule and he badly wanted air.

Hyrule brought the flower up under Sky’s nose and gave a reassuring smile. “One, two, breathe.” He crushed the pod, and as promised, a vaguely yellow cloud erupted. It went against every instinct Sky possessed to intentionally suck a cloud of what was essentially pollen into his respiratory tract, but the very fact that he could inhale it was a miracle in and of itself, so he went for it.

He tried to hold it as Hyrule had requested, but the act of inhaling had disrupted his lungs in the worst way, and he dissolved into a coughing fit after a few seconds. When he recovered, he jerked in a breath and actually felt it hit somewhere in his chest. It wasn’t perfect, or anywhere near as deep as he would like, but it was there. “Woah,” he croaked, wincing at his own voice and forgoing further attempts at marvelment in favor of focusing on his semi-functioning lungs.

Hyrule smiled at his reaction. “You pick up a thing or two, living in a polluted wasteland. Don’t do that,” he reached out to snatch flowers away from both Wild and Wind, who had gathered up handfuls and were eyeing them a little too eagerly.

“What do your other flowers do?” Wind asked hopefully.

“Nothing you should be inhaling,” Hyrule shook his head and waggled a finger. “Wild’s a bad example; don’t put stuff in your body and see what happens.

“You did it to Sky,” Wind grumbled, crossing his arms and stalking off to kick dejectedly at a clump of grass.

Sky drug in one more breath, genuine excitement growing when it reached all the way to his stomach; entire chest feeling the effects of the first effective breath in too long. “Do those always work?” He asked, clearing his throat against the scratchy pitch of his voice.

Hyrule nodded. “As far as I’ve seen. Do you not have something like this in Skyloft?”

Sky shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

Hyrule smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing Wild was prepared to start a conservation colony in case we need to repopulate the planet in the event of total extinction. We’ve got plenty.”

“If we ever get home, I’m planting these on the surface,” Sky decided, refusing to believe that he could wreck the entire ecosystem. He had no reason not to believe that he was supposed to be responsible for introducing Miracle Flowers to Hyrule the whole time.

#Whumptober 2022 #No.5 #Story Time With Squiggles #Asthma attack #But he's fine #Linked Universe #LU Sky #LU Hyrule #LU Wild #Y'all know the drill they're all there those are just the Main Boys #Y'all're already dreading the day I figure out how to work ao3 you know I'm going to be one of those writers #Whose author's notes are longer than the story

[itsdrippingred]

I dont know if you are taking requests but I would love to see a fic where clint have Tourette’s too. Maybe taking about growing up with ts and Natasha finding out? some tics he could have Verbal tics: popping clicking sound whistle throat clearing sniffing. Motor tics: Neck jerking, shoulder shrugging blinking hard or Repetitively eye rolling (gets him in trouble. please no Coprolalia because its actually stereotype and rare! Also tics go away when you are focused on stuff like shooting!

Hey! Thanks for the request! That’s a very interesting prompt idea. I went a head and wrote something for it. I hope you enjoy it! Also apologies for any typos... I wrote this at 3 am.

Misread signals

Since the day Natasha met him, the archer had been nearly completely unreadable. Which, in full honestly, had made him more than slightly harder to trust during their first few missions. The man seemed to have his tics like any other, however his never arrived on time. His obsessive need to clear his throat happened on and off the job, in serious and unserious situations alike. While lying and when telling the truth. To be honest she had at one point thought it was a long con to cover up when he lied to or told half truths to fury and maybe even herself... but as time went on she had since concluded it was just an annoying habit. Kinda like how some people drum their fingers others twist their hair. Everyone has an annoying habit.. Clint’s.. Clint’s was clearing his throat. And it was a habit she’d thought more than once of killing him for especially after having to listen to him over coms for hours during missions. Only for it to miraculously stop the second the mission got serious, of which she was usually thankful for. It always seemed at its worst before a mission though.. assuming it was a way of expelling nervous energy during pre mission jitters but he’d pick up the habit right back up after the mission. The othering that he did was blink. Hard. At first she had thought it was some kind of code. Or message. The longer she was around him the more she realized he just did it somewhat randomly, less frequently than the throat clearing, but it was still on an occasion. She would have thought it was due to fatigue.. but he did it enough that it made the spy wonder if her archer was starting to loose the eye site that had made him Hawkeye. Yet still after keeping a keen eye on her partner, he never missed a target.

What was even stranger to her was that it was near impossible to tell when he lied due to it.. you’d think that it would be easy. Most people pick up tics when they lie, some quit all tics all together... but you could never tell with him because he never did either. This, if which, frustrated the Widow to no end.

What frustrated her more was to find out that he had secrets he was keeping from her. Secrets that seemed small.. but was something she would have expected to know after 3 years of working with someone.

Now standing in front of Clint’s desk Natasha dropped a heavy file on the table top it hit with a satisfying thud. A rather displeased look on her face followed as she glared at her partner who despite her presence being made known had barely acknowledged her.

“What?” He asked not caring to look at the file as he slowly leaned back to look at the woman.

“I read your file.” Natasha stated flatly.

“You’ve read my file a hundred times, Tasha. This isn’t news to me.” He snorts. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a copy of it in your nightstand at home-”

“Your un-redacted file.” She corrects almost harshly and she watches his eyes narrow before he leaned back in his seat and clears his throat like she’s heard him do a billion and one times.

“And?” He leads flatly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had Tourette’s?”

“It’s not exactly something I’m proud of Nat.” He utters shifting almost uncomfortably in his seat. “Is that what this is about?”

“Of course, it is. I’m your partner I need to know this stuff..” She sighs finally collapsing into the chair opposite to his desk.

”It doesn’t change anything.”

“It does..” She insists before watching his facial features tighten. “It means I can’t justifiably fantasize about all the ways I’d like to kill you when you’ve cleared your throat 101 times into the com while we’re on missions.” She adds with a faint smile that seems to be contagious as the archer lets out a small chuckle.

“Believe me, you’re not the first to think of that. Growing up with this, I got my ass kicked more than I’d like to admit.. and by kids only slight smaller than you—”

“You’re really going to make short jokes.”

“Absolutely.” He snorts before clearing his throat to finish the story. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my most shining quality growing up but as time went on I grew out of a few of them. Some stuck around, as you can tell, but there are things that help.”

Natasha nods. “Like you told me about your hearing.. if you live with something long enough, you learn how to live with it.”

“Exactly.” He says while bobbing his head.

“So the blinking.. isn’t you losing your Hawk like sight?”

With a chuckle he shakes his head. “No, not at all. Just fatigue. It’s a tic.. but for the most part it’s brought on by fatigue.”

Natasha nodded to the confession. “I hate knowing you got picked on for this and that people made you feel less for it. You’re not less.” She somewhat blurted in a soft manner.

“I know, Nat. It took me years to see that but I know.” He said with a soft smile of which she reciprocated. “Now that that’s out of the way. You wanna grab lunch?” He says switching gears so quickly that it pulled a chuckle from Natasha.

“Where do you wanna eat?”

“Jimmy’s Pizza, obviously.” He says with an eye roll as if Natasha didn’t already know this and grabbed his keys from his desk drawer before getting to his feet.

“Again?” She complains with a smile but stands to follow him out the door.

“They have the best pizza!” Clint exclaims as they both round the corner into the hall and out of sight.

#natasha romanoff #clintasha #clint barton #black widow #marvel #natasha x clint

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

requested by @onedirectionlovers2014

request from @firstclassthot : Otp prompt #68

“You guys are so cute together!”

While the stranger meant no harm by the comment, they had completely misread the dynamic between A and B. They were friends, always had been and always will be.

But why can’t person A stop thinking about the comment? The longer they ponder, the more they seemingly agree. 

But does B share the same sentiment?

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers

warnings: swearing, spoilers for aliens, overthinking

Dan fidgeted next to me as we waited in line next to bull and roz. Bull was talking animatedly about the first alien movie and roz was nodding along. I looked over at Dan again.

“you okay?” I asked quietly, slipping my hand into his to stop his fidgeting. His head snapped over to me.

“nervous.” He admitted when he saw the look in my eyes. “Horror movies aren’t usually my thing.” I nodded and leaned into him slightly. Dan took my weight and sighed. “I didn’t want to…” he waved his free hand and I nodded again.

“It’s ok.” I assured him. “They weren’t my thing for a long time.” Dan looked at me surprised. I nodded with a laugh. “Yeah. I couldn’t walk past the Halloween decorations without freaking out for a while.” Dan chuckled softly and let go of my hand to wrap his arms around me.

“hard to believe but alright.” He said. “How scary is this going to be?” I turned my head slight, bumping noses when I saw how close he had gotten to whisper in my ear.

“shouldn’t be too bad. It’s mostly just build up moments. The music is what gets you.” I admitted. “At least in the first one.” Dan nodded and let me lean against him again. He turned to lean against the building while we waited for the box office to open to get our tickets.

“I don’t mean to intrude.” A soft voice from next to us said. Dan and I looked over at the teenage girl standing behind us, holding hands with a guy who seemed more preoccupied with goofing around with his friends. “But you guys are so cute together!” She gushed. Dan let go of me and I blushed red.

“oh. We aren’t…” I started. Dan nodded, gesturing between us.

“together.” He finished. “We’re just really good friends.” I nodded. The girl flushed a little and her smile fell. My heart sank, not just at the look on her face but at the way Dan said we were just friends.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” The girl said. She turned back to her group and Dan looked at me. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed as roz gave him a look. I wrapped my arm around his and leaned against him again as the line started to move. My mind started working overtime as bull bought us tickets. I trailed behind everyone, staring at the back of dans head as we walked over the the concession stand.

“you ok?” Dan asked as he passed me a bucket of popcorn. I shook my head and looked at him.

“huh? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Dan furrows his eyebrows and guided me towards where bull and roz were waiting.

“I asked you twice what you wanted and you didn’t answer.” Dan said softly. “Lucky for you I know you so well. But you had this far away look in your eyes. Like you are trying to think through something.” I shrugged and followed roz to our seats. Dan plopped down next to me and immediately tried to steal some of my popcorn.

“hey!” I exclaimed and pulled the bucket away from him. “If you wanted popcorn you should have bought your own!” Dan stuck his tongue out at me before tossing a kernel in his mouth.

“Even trade then.” He opened the box of candy and held it out to me. I gave him a look as I took one and ate it. “There. Happy?” I shrugged and leaned back in the chair as the previews started.

it was hard to focus on the screen in front of me as thoughts of what the girl said entered my mind. Dan was cute. When I saw pictures of the two of us together, I liked what I saw. Looking over at Dan under the guise of making sure he was ok as the movie started, I couldn’t help but flush as I took in his profile. When he turned towards me and flashed me a smile, I couldn’t help but smile back.

I turned my attention back to the screen with every intention of actually watching the movie. When the first xenomorph appeared onscreen Dan quickly reached over and grabbed my hand. I squeezed it even though I was now playing a balancing game with the bucket of popcorn. Whenever I felt him tense up, I would squeeze his hand again. He’d shoot me a smile before shifting in his seat. My heart would pound and my mind would start to spiral again. Was there more to it than just Dan being scared of the movie? Was I overthinking this? As Dan jumped, I squeezed his hand made sure he stayed in his seat. Dan leaned over to me and made sure I saw him before talking.

“you were right. The music is does make it creepier.” He whispered. I nodded and sighed as he lifted the arm rest to fully lean against me. As ripely and newt tried to find a way out of the room with the facehuggers, Dan turned his head to bury his face in my neck. I let go of his hand and wrapped my arm around him, running my fingers through his hair.

“you alright?” I whispered. Dan shook his head and I tightened my grip on him. Handing my popcorn to bull, I maneuvered Dan into a more comfortable position for both of us. His head came up briefly and I cupped his cheeks, rubbing them with my thumbs. He was squeezing his eyes shut, absolutely terrified of opening them. “It’s ok. I’m here.” Dan opened his eyes and met mine. He relaxed slightly as I smiled at him. “Just a movie.” He nodded before burying his face in my neck again. Roz looked over and smirked at me as I rubbed circles into dans shoulder. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the screen.

it was hard to concentrate with the little puffs of air hitting my neck sending me into a spiral again. I had plenty of male friends and not one of them had ever done with before. Hell not even my female friends did this. Despite being comfortable with each other, this thought would never cross my mind unless…a soft gasp left me and Dan at the same time. I pulled my fingers free of his hair and mumbled an apology. The steady puffs resumed and we didn’t move until the credits started to roll. I gently pushed Dan off me and he looked around, a sheepish grin on his face. He looked over at roz and bull, his cheeks dusted pink. I tried to will my heart rate to go down from the look alone.

“Uh…no one is going to tell Harry are they?” He asked. I shook my head as did roz. Bull smiled at Dan, make him turn a darker pink.

“that depends…” bull said. Dan gulped.

“On what?” Dan asked as we stood up.

“the movie you pick next week.” Dans shoulders relaxed and he nodded.

“deal.” He said as we headed out. Roz and bull said their goodbyes before they headed to the subway. Dan started walking to his car. “You want a ride or you taking the subway?”

“how are you feeling?” I countered. Dan shrugged.

“a little tense. But that’s normal right?” I nodded. “Ok. So normal.” I nodded again.

“Then I’m going home with you.” I got into his car and waited for him to pull out. “Besides we need to talk.” He tensed up and nodded. When we got to his building, I followed him up the stairs and into the apartment.

“so what do we need to talk about?” He asked as he shed his jacket.

“do you like me?” I asked. I figured it was better for my sanity and his if I got right to the point. Dan opened his mouth and I stopped him. “I mean like do you have a crush on me. Because if tonight was any indication, yeah you like me.” Dan blushed and his eyebrows went up for a second before he sat down on the couch.

“I mean…” Dan ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Ok first off you got butter in my hair you dork.” I chuckled as I sat down next to him.

“Then don’t force your face into my body next time jerk.” I teased. Dan laughed and shook his head.

“I’ll shower after this.” He noted. “Back to…uh…before I answer, can I ask why you’re bringing this up?” I averted my eyes and picked at a stray string on the couch. “Hey! Don’t pull my couch apart!” Dan whined. I chuckled before putting my hands in my lap. “It’s what that kid said isn’t it?” I looked up at Dan and nodded. He nodded too and we both found something more interesting than each other.

“I just…” I sighed. “It got me thinking about stuff we do that I for sure don’t do with any of my other friends. And I’m fairly certain you don’t do them with your other friends.” Dan nodded.

“and considering we have the same group of friends we’d know.” Dan agreed. It was quiet for a bit before Dan got up and walked into his room. I sighed and looked around the room. “This might answer your question.” He handed me a picture frame and I looked from him to the picture. Smiling softly, I handed it back to him.

“your birthday party.” Dan nodded.

“it was a fun night. One I enjoyed because you saved it from Harry’s magical mess.” I laughed and relaxed against the couch. “To formally answer your question…” dan sat down next to me and took my hand. “I do have a crush on you.” I smiled up at the ceiling before turning to Dan and launching myself at him. “Oof.” He grunted as I made contact with his body, forcing him back into the couch.

“I have a crush on you too.” I whispered as I propped my chin on his chest. Dan laughed as he hugged me close.

“alright. So now what?” He asked. “A date? Tomorrow night?” I nodded.

“Yeah. We could see a movie.” Dan squeezed me gently and shook his head.

“no. No more movies for a while.” He shuddered. “Never again” he whispered as I laid my head on his chest.

“you have to admit, it wasn’t that bad.” I teased. Dan chuckled.

“yeah. But only because I got to cuddle with you.” He said with a smile. I smiled happily and buried my head in his chest.

‘Maybe we are incredibly cute together.’ I thought as Dan rubbed my back.

#john larroquette #john larroquette imagine #john larroquette fanfic #john larroquette fanfiction #john larroquette x reader #dan fielding #dan fielding imagine #dan fielding x reader #dan fielding fanfic #dan fielding fanfiction

[kmhnsecretexchange]

Title: Bruised Not Broken

Author: Tee/Cherry @one-way-dream, KILLC0MMAND (Twitter)

For: idvnagito (Twitter)

Pairings/Characters: Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda, Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda

Rating/Warnings: General Audiences, Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of mild injuries

Prompt: Pre-game + Established Relationship - Hajime witnesses Nagito getting picked on and physically bullied by some other kids in the Reserve Course, saving him and intervening. Hajime is slightly offended Nagito never told him about it, and Nagito panics, thinking Hajime is mad at him when that isn’t the case at all - they make up and go back to Hajime’s house where Hajime takes care of Nagito’s wounds!

Author’s notes: WAAA I’M SORRY i misread the prompt a little! my sincere apolocheese but still i hope you enjoy it! ❤ it was fun to write this and i hope to see you around for the next exchange as well! :]

“It’s just another day,” he tells himself. “Just push through it.”

It’s like a mantra to him; something to keep focused on when he’s put through yet another instance of his luck cycle making him suffer. Well, maybe “suffer” was too grave of a word. He’s been through worse, after all – far worse.

It’s just that all the other times were due to circumstances beyond his control. He’s been reassured time and time again that the other instances weren’t his fault, and really, it seemed like his luck often had a mind of its own more than anything.

But this…?

He laughed breezily, feeling his ribs ache under the pressure. The line of blood coming out of his nose became one with the blood coming out of his split bottom lip.

This was malicious. This was something the others could control – something they could stop at any time if they had that restraint.

And he gets it, it’s hard being a Reserve Course student; he understood that well enough now. But people like them, regardless of their talent or lack thereof, would never see eye-to-eye even if he tried to explain that he was on the same level. It seemed that at the end of the day, all they’d ever want is a punching bag to lash out their frustrations on.

And well, for all the trash-talking he’s done about the Reserve Course up until now, Nagito certainly feels that maybe he deserves this a little.

A few more shaky breaths leave him, the taste of blood in his mouth becoming increasingly more repulsive as the minutes roll by. The other boys stand around a few feet away like vultures, contemplating whether they should get one more kick in or flee the scene before security catches on. But he has to stay still, stay silent and bear it for a little longer.  Maybe he’ll just get some rest. He doesn’t want to draw attention while there’s still students milling around the building; who knows what’ll happen if an innocent bystander gets caught up in his luck.

After a few long minutes, he cautiously opens his eyes and sees that he’s finally alone. Nagito picks up his head and looks around out of curiosity, remembering how the other boys had dragged him by the scruff of his collar and kicked him until his body collided against the side of the building. It was all a little hazy from then on out, besides the taste of salt in his mouth and gravel between the crown of his molars. Although the occasional kick to the gut stunned him back to consciousness, it didn’t last very long before he’d pass out again, with his body as weak and disgustingly sickly as it is.

Moving to check his phone hurt too much, so he opted to lay there, waiting for the sun to dip into the horizon a little more so he could slink back to his dorm like he’s done time and time again.

And so, he lets his eyes flutter shut as his breathing evens out; warm and throbbing bruises growing colder in the evening shadows. It’s not cold enough for anyone to fall ill, but knowing his immunity, it’s damn likely that he will anyway – maybe deathly enough to skip a few exams, even.

“What a pain…” He mumbles to himself under his breath, not catching the way the not-so-distant footsteps suddenly scrape to a halt against the concrete.

“What… the hell…?”

Nagito’s body jolts against the cold and damp concrete of the building, head whipping in the direction of the familiar voice to see one of his worst fears realized. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders when that changed from dying alone and unloved to Hajime Hinata finding him in a helpless and pathetic state.

“Hinata-kun, what a pleasant surprise…” Despite the way his torn lips burn and ache, he gives a small smile at the sight of him. He wonders when his boyfriend managed to make him feel secure enough that he didn’t have to think about his old fears anymore. He wonders how he manages to simultaneously make his heart sink with dread and soar with affection even in the condition that he’s in.

Hajime drops everything he’s carrying with a thud and runs towards Nagito, neither of them taking their eyes off of each other, before he drops to his knees, uncaring about the way his pants frayed and left his skin scraped against the cemented path. “Who… Komaeda, how did this— who did this to you…?”

The way Hajime reaches out to cup his face, run a careful thumb over his bruised cheekbone, almost makes Nagito want to cry – and it wasn’t from the way his body ached all over. He blinks away the mistiness and looks away from Hajime, shame burning in his gut before he slowly replies, “Does it even matter?”

Nagito doesn’t miss the way Hajime’s hand quivers for a moment, although he doesn’t know if it’s from anger or something else. He doesn’t even know who it’s meant to be directed towards, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was him, even if the very thought makes his chest burn. But the second he looks back into Hajime’s warm golden eyes despite his frustrated expression, he knows the answer.

“Maybe not… now, not anymore but,” Hajime’s voice softens with regret, hands sliding down to carefully grip the other boy’s shoulders, “I want you to tell me anyway. I can’t— I won’t let anything like this happen to you again.”

If the way Hajime stared straight into Nagito’s eyes with a burning determination wasn’t enough to make him relent, the wavering yet sincere tone of his voice would do him in. He licks his lips before shakily replying, “They were just some Reserve Course boys,” he mumbles, eyes downcast once more, “I, um, don’t know what I said to upset them, but… maybe I told them a really bad joke?”

Hajime’s mouth presses into a thin line through Nagito’s sheepish laugh. He lets out an exasperated sigh before leaning back on his heels, hands outstretched to the other. Hajime’s takes in a clipped breath, heart pounding in his throat for some reason as he says the next few words.

“…Nagito, can you stand?”

-x-

Nagito had his very own special key to the nurse’s office on account of the fact that he gets injured often. Far more often than the average student, besides maybe Makoto Naegi on a bad luck streak. But even between the two of them, he’d always somehow end up with worse scrapes – bad enough to warrant constant access to medical supplies even beyond school hours.

The two of them slip in, their fingers loosely tangled together as to not accidentally hurt Nagito while also comforting him. Nagito looked back at the other with a small smile as he flicked light switch on, overhead white tube-lights stuttering to life after a breath of hesitancy.

Hajime took the lead, gently ushering Nagito to the bed, stripped of its usual crepe paper lining. Neither of them had the energy to bother – it was eight ‘o’ clock in the evening and there were barely any people around besides the security guard who seemed like he lived solely off of giving the stink eye to unsuspecting Reserve Course students.

“Come on, let’s get you seated so I can find the medical supplies.” Hajime took hold of the other’s shoulders, carefully setting him down on the bed as a shuddering pained groan leaves Nagito through clenched teeth. The anxiety that had been steadily bubbling in Hajime’s chest was now overflowing at the sound. His rough hands find their way to cup his boyfriend’s warm but gravel-scraped cheeks. He can’t help the way his frown deepens or how his eyebrows furrow together in worry over the other.

He just… can’t believe it.

Hajime swallows thickly, staring right down into Nagito’s eyes before brushing his bangs aside and leaning in to brush his lips against his forehead. And before he knows it, he does it again. And again.

Something like a giggle erupts from Nagito, “Is this your way of curing me? Because I don’t think this’ll fly in medical school, but… I admire the ambition,” he gently pulls away to look at Hajime with fondness in his eyes, “I’ve always admired your ambition; it’s what I love most about you.”

The way Hajime’s heart leaps into his throat causes him to choke a little before clearing his throat, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away Nagito, I just—”

“You thought I looked pathetic?”

“—What?! No! It just… it just made me realize that I need to be there for you more, is all. I’m… not happy about the fact that you never told me but now that I know, I…” Hajime hesitates, eyes darting to the side as he feels heat crawl up his neck, “Well, you know what I’m trying to say. Don’t make me say it again.”

Hajime quickly pulls away from Nagito, away from his questioning eyes, to search around for the first aid kit. He scans the room, finding shelves full of supplies and a refrigerator full of blood bags. He reaches for the shelf first, carefully shifting aside the bottles of antiseptic to find a row of first aid kits stored at the back. The one on the far right is plucked as he returns to an injured Nagito, but not before he stops to take a bottle of antiseptic – just in case.

Nagito watches him pace across the room to the sink, grabbing a handful of cotton balls and a plastic cup of water before he rushes back to him and lays it all out on the bedside table. He doubts he’ll need the bandages anymore, given that his blood has probably already clotted the wounds shut, but his chest feels warm at seeing Hajime care so much anyway.

He carefully lifts his legs onto the bed and leans against the headrest, trying not to think about the throbbing wounds on his back. “Hinata-kun…?”

“Mhm?”

Nagito looks back at Hajime who brings the cup of water to his lips, supporting the back of his head with his other hand. Through slow sips, he thinks his words through before gently nudging the cup away. “…When did you start calling me Nagito?”

Hajime’s gaze falters for a moment as he sets the cup back down. He says nothing for a while, working away at the first aid kit. Eventually he steps forward and helps Nagito shimmy up the bed a little, sitting down in front of him to carefully undo his jacket, vest, tie, and shirt. A few hisses leave Nagito, but nothing more; nothing that’d give away how much damage they’d actually done over the past few weeks. He couldn’t let Hajime know that.

Hajime squeezes his eyes shut at the sight for a moment before forcing them open again, taking in the small cuts and the black and blue splotches by his ribcage. A large bruise blooms over his diaphragm, and it boils Hajime’s blood to realize that he knows exactly how it got there.

Finally, he takes a sharp breath and finally opens his mouth as he runs a piece of antiseptic-soaked cotton over Nagito’s cuts.

“I started calling you Nagito today,” Hajime looks straight into Nagito’s virescent silver eyes, “And I won’t take it back. I won’t go back to ‘Komaeda’.”

The boy widens his eyes at the words, barely holding back a flinch. He takes a deep breath, steadying his heart for a moment, before looking away with a smile. “I wonder why that is, exactly…”

Hajime peels a bandage from its wrapping, blowing cool air on the freshly disinfected cut under his collar bone. Nagito shivers at chilly sensation, even though his face burns from the proximity. As Hajime pastes the bandage on, he speaks again in a gentle voice. “I just… want to be closer to you.”

“Closer? Aren’t we already close?”

He looks back at Nagito for a moment before focusing his attention back on the bloodied cotton swap in his hand. The whole bed smelled a little like antiseptic. Nagito smelled entirely like antiseptic.

“I mean, close enough that you can tell me. Close enough so something like this won’t happen next time.”

“Hinata-kun, they were just some Reserve Course students – I understand that they’re just stressed—”

“I don’t care that they’re stressed, I care about you!” Hajime exclaims, not realizing how loud his voice had gotten in the confines of the empty nurse’s office. But he didn’t waver. “I care about you.”

The room settles into silence again as a piece of cotton gets bandaged over the cut of his jaw. Hajime lets his hand linger there for a moment, fingers ghosting over his skin. Nagito is the first to start talking again.

“I know you care, but… is it really that simple? How are you of all people going to stop them from harassing me.”

Hajime scoffs lightly, “At least you realize that it’s harassment, even though that’s putting it mildly. But tell me one thing: do you really, truly think you deserve it? After all that you’ve seen, all that you’ve endured your whole life, do you really think they deserve to treat you like a punching bag?”

Not a single sound leaves the other boy. His eyes flit from Hajime’s face to the reddish wounds on his palms, and then back to Hajime’s kind expression. The past few months that he’s been dating him have been some of the best in his otherwise miserable life. He already knows how strongly Hajime feels about this, and his persuasion hasn’t fallen on deaf ears; he already knows his answer.

Hajime overlaps his hand over Nagito’s with a gentleness he didn’t know he possessed, “See? Even you know, don’t you?” He smiles and brushes a thumb over the curve of his index finger. “Even if I might not be able to stop every occurrence, I’ll make damn sure I do everything I can to keep them away from you. And in return I… want you to trust me.”

His breath hitches.

“I want you to tell me everything. I want you to be able to confide in me no matter how big or small an issue is.” Hajime’s breathing picks up, a surefire tell for the other when he feels nervous about something, “Nagito… I want you to believe in me.”

Nagito looks away huffs out in faux annoyance, trying and failing to hide a small grin on his face, “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

Yet he’s the first to lace their fingers together, ugly scrapes and cuts and all.

“Alright, Hajime. I’ll believe in you.”

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2 #dr3

[wanders-in-stars]

helloo wanted to do the ask game thing. 8 and 17 for tamar perhaps ?! 🫶🏻 ( hopefully this is how you ask cause i have no idea

Ur doing fine luv, and ty for the ask!

Let's see, for 8... stormcloaks jk they probably taste like sweat and racism. On a slightly more serious note, I feel like she'd love dragon bones and mammoth snout. Her Wolf affects her human form in a lot of ways, and I think one of them is a more... carnivorous diet than most humans can handle. She's gnawing on them ancient bones, sucking out the marrow, and having fun chewing mammoth meat like it's the Tamrielic equivalent of gum.

14 - mentor; growing up in a close-knit pack as she did, Tamar had a lot of mentors, starting with her parents. Her mother, Avra, was probably the one who influenced her relationship with Hircine and lycanthropy the most, and was her first teacher in terms of combat (specifically in werewolf form/daggers). As for her father, Faolin... Tamar takes after him more in terms of personality and outlook on the world; he showed her the life of people outside the pack, taking her into villages and towns as a child when he'd sell alchemy ingredients or animal products. He also taught her all she knows about alchemy and archery. Then there's Oberon, an older Nord who was another combat mentor, and the one who introduced Tamar to the two-handed quarterstaffs and twinblades she grew to favour, and the Altmer lycan Antariel; a much-beloved packmate, and sort of a peer mentor in terms of restoration and alteration magic. There are undoubtedly more, but this is getting long enough as it is, so I'll stop there lol.

And a bonus, bc I misread the first time around and mistook 14's prompt for 17, family:

As for 14, family – Gore aside, that'd be her pack back in Cyrodiil. There were probably around 12-15 folks in the pack at the time of her birth (including her parents Avra and Faolin), but by 4E 200 (one year before the start of the game) their numbers dwindled to 7 or 8. Vigilants, Silver Hand, villagers and woodsman leaving carcasses laced with belladonna and wolfsbane, and losing one's self to the Wolf – all factors that contributed to the decline in the pack's numbers. Tamar left after a Situation forced her to kill a beloved packmate, both as self-defense and a mercy kill, but she intends to return someday! Too bad I won't let her

#yaz answers #ask: kreinvulon #ask game answers #oc: tamar #oc fun facts