#p sure the one with the outsider only continued to work because all three outsiders in the outsider dream are technically different

[onsunnyside]

:･ﾟ➴ 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭: 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Chris Evans x short!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, size difference, SMUT - minors DNI, short!reader, size kink, dom!chris, praise kink, degradation, dumbification, spitting, oral (m & f mentioned), dirty talk, choking, daddy kink, spanking, unprotected sex (p in v, anal), breeding kink, squirting, creampie.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭: 𝐈 & 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭: 𝐈𝐈 continuation.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.38K

𝗔/𝗡 | to celebrate daddy being the sexiest man alive, here is part three of one of my first stories !! i hope you all enjoy. all mistakes are my own.

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Chris is an early bird, quite the opposite of you. Especially after long travelling trips—it usually takes a few days for you to get back to your usual lively self. Jet lag always gets the best of you but it was worth it to visit your boyfriend while he worked.

And now that he’s back home and grateful he doesn’t have to live out of suitcases anymore, you two spent the whole night catching up and soaking in each other’s warmth before retreating to his big comfy bed.

Even though he wants to spend time with you after being apart for months, he lets you sleep in. When he got out of bed, he made sure you were tucked in the plush sheets and snuggled with pillows. All warm and safe from the autumn weather outside—and Dodger who stared at you until you woke up.

When you met Chris, he only had four pillows on his bed. Now he has at least seven, not counting the decorative ones. Similarly, his blanket game has significantly evolved to a collection of the softest blankets you’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping with, oh, and don’t forget about his special winter ones that are thick and fluffy.

“Do you wanna go to the dog park?” Dodger perks up, adorable eyes looking at his owner intently. “You wanna go now, bubba?” Dodger hops down from the couch and goes toward the master bedroom. He stops, looking back at his owner.

Chris can’t help but laugh. “You’re right, let’s wake her up.” He follows his dog down the hallway and the opened French doors at the end.

You’re lying on your side, buried in the sheets with your face mushed in between two pillows and the white blanket up to your ears—he didn’t know how you slept with your face half covered. (“Can you even breathe?” “Duh, how else would I wake up every morning?” “Oh, shut up.”)

Chris slowly makes his way to the bed, shushing Dodger. “She’s tired, bubba. Do you really want her to come?”

The dog looks at him, head tilted to the side as his tongue hangs out.

“Of course, you do.” Chris sighs, wondering why he even asked. He gently caresses your head and brushes your hair with his fingers. Cooing and calling your name softly. “Wakey, wakey, darling.”

You flip over, still sound asleep with your arms above your head and quiet breaths coming from your parted mouth.

Chris barely resists tickling you, the last time he did that, you bruised his nose. So instead, he delicately traces down your jaw to your neck, shaking your shoulder. “Baby, c’mon, Dodger is going to start whining.”

As if on cue, from his spot on the bed, the dog starts making high-pitched noises. Loud enough that your eyes flutter open, immediately squinting from the bright sunshine.

“Ugh, why are the curtains open, you dick.”

“Because the plant you refuse to move needs light.” Chris glances at the little string of pearls hanging from the ceiling by the sliding glass doors.

“I told you to put another hook in the dining room.”

“And I told you to marry me before you start making renovations to my house.”

The glare you send almost scares him—but it’s Chris and it’s you, so he just shoots you an exaggerated grin. “Are you going to marry me now? Think about all of the amazing sleep you’ll get in our bed with the curtains shut whenever you want.”

Feeling forgotten, Dodger whines again. His heavy paw lands on your stomach as he noses at your face.

“I think you mean that I’ll instead get woken up by a grumpy puppy staring at me every morning.” You rub the pup’s ears, squirming away when he licks your face. “Yeah, isn’t that right, bubba? You’re a grumpy puppy when your daddy doesn’t wake up on time to feed you?”

“I think he likes when his mama feeds him more.”

You’ve gotten used to the marriage topic and Chris’ half jokes (it wasn’t a secret that he wanted to go the full mile). The media’s unrelenting rumours and debates about your relationship status were old news: “Trouble in Paradise? Details of Chris Evans’ failed marriage proposal to girlfriend!” “Captain Can’t Have It All: Chris Evans is officially the sexiest and saddest man alive”

It was funny how a lot of the articles credited close sources when in reality it was just a bunch of dramatic assumptions.

All those pesky breakup rumours end (for the time being anyway) when you post a baking video: homemade dog treats.

You posted the video on your Instagram captioned: Very proud to announce this recipe is approved by the toughest critic pup! Hard work does indeed pay off.

The video was cute, you were dressed in an apron and one of Chris’ flannels. In the comfort of his kitchen, you carefully followed the recipe, chatting up a storm with the very interested puppy (“He isn’t a puppy anymore.” “All dogs are puppies.”) at your feet.

After you finished cooking, it cut to Dodger at a miniature table, he had one of those doggy smiles and was wearing a bib, very obediently waiting for you to set up a few of the fresh treats. You gave him the go and he dug in, practically devouring the food in seconds.

Once he was done, he looked up at you in a silent plea for more, definitely giving you those signature puppy dog eyes—and who were you to deny such a sweet boy of his treats! The video ended with shaky footage of you being kissed to death by the happy pup.

People loved it, some even trying the recipe themselves and tagging you in it. Your friends made jokes about you ditching your job to become a full-time pastry chef for dogs, and honestly, you wouldn’t mind it.

One comment, in particular, catches your attention.

chrisevans: What a good girl ❤️ Will you cook for me and call me baby too?

That made you miss him even more and you immediately called him to gush about your little baking adventure.

“I miss you so fuckin’ much.” You can hear the pout in his voice. “Come see me this week, please?” Chris had a habit of forgetting that you can’t just drop everything and go with him to work. Sure, you tried your best but it was tough if he was across the globe.

Fights about that usually last a few hours at most. Chris hates going to bed angry and he’d much rather cuddle and talk it out than not say “I love you” before going to sleep.

As his birthday approached, you told him you couldn’t make it. As much as it hurt to lie to him, you had to for the surprise. Scott was already there, not wanting his brother to spend his birthday alone and when he asked if you could surprise Chris—no convincing was needed.

After getting on set while Chris was off filming, you huddled inside his trailer. It was a little hectic inside, with clothes and shoes skewed across the floor and an unmade bed. Empty coffee cups and water bottles were scattered over the counters. Working Chris was a little different than home Chris, so you cleaned up as much as you could, not wanting him to walk into a mess on his birthday.

“—I have ice in the freezer, I’ll just use that.” His voice flows through the opened window. You barely contain your squeal of excitement, quickly fumbling to fix your little setup. The door clicks open but no footsteps follow. “Did you lock my door?”

“Yeah,” Scott answers back. You hope he was recording.

Chris huffs, stepping one foot into the trailer. “No, you didn’t. It’s unlocked. I told you to lock it before you left, idiot.” When he sees you, his immediate reaction is to scream. With wide eyes and a hand over his chest, he falls back into the wall, taking a few seconds to process who’s in front of him. Then, the biggest, brightest grin grows on his face.

“Happy birthday!” You jump off the bed, tackling him in a hug. He picks you off the floor with his hands under your thighs, hiking you up high to kiss your lips with such force you get lightheaded.

“I got you flowers.” You pull away and point over at the dresser where the luscious bouquet sat. “And your favourite ice cream, that new book you’ve been talking about, a new sweater and baseball cap and—”

He interrupts you with another kiss, slipping his tongue between your lips and lowering you until your core brushes against his crotch. Scott gags, announcing to call him when you’re off to dinner before leaving. The door slams shut and you and Chris are alone.

When he pulls away, you bite his lip cheekily. “I thought presents were supposed to be a surprise.” His voice is deep and gravelly, and his lips stretch into a smirk under his moustache.

“Oh! Forget I said anything.” (You also made him a photo album, you cut up pictures of you both as children to glue together to make it look like they knew each other. It was dumb but it was cute! And Chris said he loved it!)

You freaked out about the nasty bruise on his arm and didn’t calm down until he accepted your offer to pamper him.

(Scott posts the video with a caption: Happy 40th birthday to my brother! Thought I’d get him the best present this year—a girl who can handle all his asshole behaviour! One of a kind for the best brother out there. P.S. yes, the ending of the video was as awkward for me as it was for you all watching. We’ll probably welcome a new baby in the next nine months.)

And well… Chris wouldn’t tell him but that was his plan from the moment he saw you.

Your clothes litter the once clean floor and your panties are tight in his fist as he brings them to his nose, inhaling deeply before he shoves them into your mouth, “Gotta be quiet, baby, these walls are thin.”

If he truly cared about keeping it quiet, he wouldn’t be bouncing you on his cock, using you like a toy and spanking your ass. His balls slap against the plug nestled deep inside your puckered hole, stretched and ready for him. You’re so pretty when you’re gagged, but he would rather hear you.

“Daddy, uh—uh, I can’t.” You weakly brace yourself against his hairy chest, digging your nails into his tattooed flesh. “You’re too—fuck!”

His blue eyes cloud with lust, he watches you whine and weep on his girth, babbling nonsense about him being too big, too deep. That wouldn’t do, you were made for his cock, and you fucking loved when he was all up in your guts. This was his birthday present (the best he’s ever been given) and he was going to take full advantage of it.

He groans when your walls tighten. The tendons in his neck tense and his arm hooks around your waist, tugging you closer. “Daddy’s too deep? Just wait ‘til I get in that ass.”

He manhandles you into different positions: on your side so he could wrap his bicep around your neck and make you watch in the mirror, he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you in half, gripping the headboard above you as you squirt again and he fills you for the first time that day, promising the end is nowhere near.

Chris fucks you like he hates you while cursing about how much he fucking loves you, his sweet girl.

“Such a little thing, poor cunt is crying on my cock, makin’ a stupid mess.” “Remember when you could only take me halfway? Fucked yourself on my tip like a dumb baby, now look atcha. Stuffed so full you can’t even think.” “That’s okay, daddy loves you even when you’re a little dummy.”

His big frame blocks any sort of light, shrouding you in shadows and bliss. Every thrust shoves the air straight from your lungs, leaving you a gasping, weeping mess. You gnaw on your fingers, squirming as he pounds into your ass, hitting deeper than ever. Your body ignites in hot pleasure, it prickles at your skin and makes tears well up in your eyes, that band tightening in your belly again.

“Look at that pretty hole, stretched to the brim with daddy’s cock, gonna have no more room when I cum in you again, huh?” He coos when you cry and kisses your wet cheeks. “You better thank me for giving your pussy a break.”

“T-Thank you, da—daddy.” You hiccup, eyes rolling back as his pace builds with speed and strength, his hips slap against your ass, obscenely wet noises filling the room.

Your juices and his previous load dribble out of your used cunt to your ass. He fucks that filth back into you, groaning lowly as your cream coats his pulsating length. “That’s my good little slut.” “Fuck—you’re so fuckin’ messy, huh? Look at that shit.” He forces you to look down, a ring of whiteness sits at the thick base of his cock, sticking to his skin and smearing to his full balls, undoubtedly a mixture of your shared arousal. “Dirty girl, creamin’ all over me. Should make you clean it up, fuck your pretty face—and make you suck on my balls too.”

Your please daddy is barely audible.

“Yeah, you want that, baby? Wanna clean daddy’s sack like a little ballslut?” He spits on your soppy core, adding to the filthy fluids that cover your petals. “My sweet baby, you’re doing so good for me. Gonna knock you up tonight, you know that?”

He licks his thumb, then brings it down to your puffy clit which was still sensitive from his mouth—and that fucking moustache. You gasp sharply, your hand shooting out to grasp his wrist. “Missed these pretty holes, missed your creamy cunt on my face. This little button missed me too, yeah?” “Daddy will give her lots of attention, sweet girl, gonna get her all swollen and make it hurt—I know you love it when it hurts.”

The trailer was rocking and there’s no doubt that everyone knew what was going on (if your moans weren’t enough).

“Daddy loves your little hole, baby, feels so fucking good.” “You worked yourself open just for me? Fingered your ass like a whore so I could fuck you?” “That’s why you’re my baby, always so good for me.”

Your mind goes blank as he fucks you stupid, drool hangs out of your mouth and you feebly push at his abs. “Poor baby, am I going too deep?” “Good, wanna fuck all that attitude outta you.”

You can do nothing but watch as he rocks above you, the light fanning around his head like a halo as sweat glistens on his skin.

“Open up.” You obey, and he spits on your tongue, then again on your cheek so he could smear it into your skin. He grips your throat, and your wispy gasps turn into squeaky uh, uh, uh’s, “You want it, baby? Want daddy’s cum up your ass? Wanna be my little cumrag tonight?” “Beg me.”

“Dad–dy, please cum in me. I wanna, uh, need to feel—” Your voice breaks into a mewl when he slips two fingers into your sore pussy. You’re rushed to the edge, teetering closer with every pump of his long, thick fingers, your juices leak out around his cock, claiming him in the lewdest of ways.

“Fucked so dumb you can’t even beg.” “What’s this fuckin’ mouth for then? Is it just another hole for my cock and balls? A filthy cumdump?” He wished you could see yourself, cockdrunk with tears and spit on your face, your makeup ruined beyond salvation—but he thought you’ve never looked more beautiful. “Must be.” He drops down to lick into your slack mouth, kissing you breathlessly as his hips stutter, his fingers thrusting into that rough patch brutally.

All it takes is a few rumbling dirty words for you to reach that high. You clench around him and he presses balls deep, taking out his fingers to rub your puffy clit. Euphoria comes in bright colours and tingling sensations, with a final cry of his name, your juices spurt out and cover his hand and lower abs.

His body gives out and he crashes on top of you, pinning you down as his seed fills you to the brim, dribbling out from around his pulsating length and down his tight balls. “Fuckin’ take it, take my fuckin’ cum—so good—”

He swipes up the droplets and brings them to your mouth, tracing your lips before rubbing your tongue. “Don’t we taste good together, baby?” He wraps your legs around his waist and starts thrusting again, fucking his cum deeper while some also leak out, adding to the messy sheets. “Daddy’s not done yet, I gotta teach you a lesson about lying to me—for my fucking birthday, ya brat.”

It was safe to say that you’ve never felt more dirtier and loved when you limped out of the trailer a few hours later, practically waddling to the car with wet cheeks that never seemed to cool down—while Chris strutted proudly with his arms full of his gifts, your panties in his pocket and waving his hotel key. “I plan on taking full advantage of your visit, darling, 41 is a milestone to celebrate.”

Chris loved winning. Whether it was a lame competition between the two of you/with his brother, or an award/role he’s been hoping for, Chris strived to come out on top time and time again. Although, he’s gotten to that point in his career where things can slow down and he’s comfortable in his place, successful and secure. (“Some would say that makes the perfect time for a wedding but what the hell do I know?” He laughed sarcastically.)

Hence why you’re currently upside down and being paraded around the house like a prize.

You squeak when his hand lands on your ass. The flesh is still sore from earlier this morning when he fucked you into the mattress. He couldn’t resist when you were so cute and bleary, sweetly kissing his chest and telling him how much you loved him. If you didn’t want to get railed first thing in the morning, why the fuck were you wearing his t-shirt and no panties to bed? That’s just asking to get folded and fucked like his little whore.

“I didn’t hear that, what did you say?”

“I’m gonna throw up if you don’t put me down!”

Another sharp spank. “That’s not it. Maybe you'll learn to believe me from now on, huh? And not be a little brat in front of our friends.” “What was it, oh—he’d never win, he’s too much of a pussy to accept the title.”

You were drunk when you said that and you thought he was too, but as he got older, he limited his beers and was sober when you blatantly rejected any of his chances of winning the 2022 title of Sexiest Man Alive.

In fact, you bet he wouldn’t win—drunk you was a troublemaker. After the whole 2021 Sexiest Man Alive fiasco, you thought the media was going to rob him again. But you couldn’t have been more wrong, especially when the headlines came out and Chris had the biggest ‘I told you so’ smile on his face.

He’s lied before (about very stupid things), why would you believe him now? Especially when he expressed how nervous he was about accepting the title before, and how he would be bullied by his friends.

“I accepted it.”

“No, you didn’t.” You giggle sleepily, snuggling deeper into the sheets.

“I did.” Chris stands by the bathroom door, shirtless with his sweatpants hanging low. “I told you when I had the photoshoot, remember?”

No, you don’t because your memory was shit. “Mhm, okay. I guess you get delirious when you’re drunk. It’s okay, baby, you're still the sexiest man alive to me.” Then you fell asleep peacefully, buried under the blankets while he wrapped you in his arms, already feeling smug about your rude awakening just brimming on the horizon.

He thinks about you so much that he dreams about you almost every night. Even when you’re in his arms, tucked against him firmly with your cold feet brushing his legs. He used to say it took a long time for him to need human contact, but now he knows it was because he didn’t have you—he didn’t have someone who he wanted to be with all the time. Even just in your presence, in the same room doing completely different things in your own space but in each other’s company.

Speaking of drunk you, Chris never failed to care for you when you were inebriated and terribly uncoordinated.

“Behave.” He set you on the floor, pointing a finger at you which you tried to bite. “No. Hey, come back.” He drags you by your hips towards the bed after you tried leaving. “Get in bed.”

“Ooh, not gonna take me out to dinner first? And no flowers?” (As if he hadn’t showered you with affection all day/night while at a friend's birthday party). “I thought Christopher Evans was a chivalrous, romantic man?”

“He is. But only to good girls.” “Are you going to be my good girl and get into bed?”

It must’ve been the alcohol or his tatted, hairy chest peeking out from under his green button-up that filled your foggy mind with endless fantasies, making you instantly obey. Usually, you’d put up some more of a fight, asking him to touch you with his big soft hands—ugh, your panties were soaked and he seemed to know it from the smirk on his pretty face.

Chris takes your silence as confirmation and grabs clothes from his dresser. “Change into these, I know you’d hate me if I let you sleep in that.” He points to your tight satin blue dress.

You shake your head stubbornly.

Chris sighs. “C’mon, sweetheart, just do what I say.” “Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he knew what he was doing. In a daze, you clench your thighs, and rock your hips a little from your spot on the bed, drunk and desperate for some relief, anything.

Chris plays it cool, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from touching you. You’ve been teasing him all night, kissing his neck and grinding against him, it was a miracle he lasted this long. “I have to let Dodge outside, baby. Call me when you’re done and I’ll tuck you in.”

People still bring up those photos of him groping your ass or kissing you with a hand loosely around your throat. How could they ignore the ones that so vividly show off your size difference? He was the biggest when he was in the MCU, and proudly picked you up whenever he wanted, giving the paparazzi exactly what they wanted: “Chris Evans is a Giant and We Hope His Girlfriend is Okay” “When will Chris Evans learn his girlfriend isn’t a sack of potatoes? Here are our predictions!”

He was a giant. A damn mountain of a man as you kneel between his legs under the desk. “There we go—deeper, baby.” He grunts, guiding you further down his length. The fat tip is heavy on your tongue and already leaking precum, you sneakily lick at the pearls, desperate for a taste. He holds you as deep as you can go, which is barely halfway so you jerk the rest of his length with your hand.

He’s so thick your fingers don’t meet. Chris growls at the size difference, your cute hand dwarfed by his big dick. He gently pets your head when your tongue drags up and down the underside of his girth, messily spreading your saliva. “Are you gonna stay there while I work?” You nod or try to with his cock shoved down your throat. “What a sweet girl, keeping daddy’s cock warm. You’re my good little cocksleeve, hm?”

Your size difference got him off to no end, just the thought of you struggling to take his cock or his fingers in your tight holes made him rock hard.

He also loved being a dick about it too.

“Look, baby, I found your size.” Chris holds up a pair of infant shoes, dangling them from his fingers. He pouts mockingly, “you need new shoes, honey?”

You throw the tiny stuffed animal you were holding, it bounces off his head and lands on the ground.

Chris cackles, quickly covering his mouth when a couple looks over. He sets the shoes down and mutters under his breath, “No need for the tantrum… sheesh.”

“You know what, how about you shop for a gift alone? Better yet, why don’t you go to the baby shower alone?”

“Now, now, calm down before you explode.” “God knows how much anger can fit in your body, squirt.”

Chris has no clue how lucky he is. You claim to tolerate him poking fun at your height, but you actually really liked it. Your banter was always entertaining and if you were bratty enough, he’d go all dom mode.

“Are you okay??” “What happened to you?” “Call me ASAP”

#GetWellSoonY/N was trending along with a few photographs. Specifically, the ones taken of you with Chris and his family on vacation.

There were some of you both and his family on the beach, playing with the nieces and nephews, having a picnic or sightseeing.

Although, there were some of you and Chris that everyone seemed to focus on, along with a short video taken from a different angle than the photos. (Your disguises weren’t the best, and that’s probably why you were spotted).

You and Chris are talking, his hand on your waist and yours fiddling with a camera. You were trying to change the settings and when Chris offered (for the fourth time) to help, you just scoffed, “Yeah, the old man who can barely use his phone is going to help me with a camera that costs thousands of dollars? Pluh-ease.”

The video ends just after he lands a harsh spank on your ass, hard enough that you stumble forward and almost drop the camera. Worst of all, you can hear his palm make contact with your flesh.

‘Praying for Y/N and her 🐱.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if chris’ gf can’t walk today.’

‘Y’all see that firmness of his hand? My ass is throbbing just from watching.’

And the best article title you’ve seen in a while: ‘BREAKING NEWS: Chris Evans SPANKS His Girlfriend! Why Can’t He Leave the Poor Girl Alone?’

“Well, my publicist is not happy… again.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I don’t know. Who has the attitude problem?”

You and Chris both stare at each other, clearly having different answers to that question. You narrow your eyes, at this moment, you hate that you have to look up at him while he glares down at you, his pink lips in a scowl.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” His voice lowers and he cups your jaw, leaning closer, the blues of his eyes going dark. “You’re lucky I take it easy on you.”

You laugh in disbelief, slapping away his hand. “Tell that to my bruised ass and waddle.”

Every once in a while, the public gets a peek into your relationship. The softer side that wasn’t broadcasted all over the media.

“Play. Play. Play.” The dog repeatedly presses the button. “Okay, okay, bub.” You come into the frame, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. You grab a ball from Dodger’s bucket of toys and step out to the backyard. The sun is setting, bathing the autumn trees and grass in gold, only adding to the tranquillity. Chris gets it all on camera: you throwing the ball and cheering enthusiastically when Dodger brings it back. You shower him in pets and kisses before throwing the ball again, this time further away.

This was it—this was home. Chris used to be convinced that he’d never reach that level of intimate security, that warm place where he could be vulnerable and trust someone else wholly. His whirlwind of life was full of obstacles, long months away from home, and nasty rumours and expectations that kept him up at night, but right now, all of that faded into the glow in your eyes as you waved him over with a gleaming smile.

He posted that video after you fell asleep.

chrisevans: What a perfect day! 🌲☀️❤️ Would’ve been more perfect if she didn’t wrestle me to the ground as soon as I stepped out, but all is good, she’s smaller than me anyway.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: there we go !! the long awaited finale to one of my first series. when i posted the first part, it was my first time writing reader insert smut and now i'm a shameless slut on here. certified ballslut/sackslut! so that proves you can do anything if you just try, or fall down a rabbit hole of word porn and spend hours a day writing some yourself. but hey, i'm not complaining, i love it here.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! did you know that daddy Chris Evans is the sexiest man alive?

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x short reader #short reader #size difference #reader insert #Chris evans x you #Chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader smut #chris evans x reader fluff #chris evans one shot #chris evans drabble #Chris evans headcanon #chris evans imagine #Chris evans blurb #in his pocket au #sonny's stories #daddy chris evans #chrisevans #cevans

[pokeask-star-sending]

Star Sending Event Info

Welcome to the Pokeask community’s first Star Sending Event. Basically, this is a Holiday Exchange (AKA, Secret Santa) with a little twist: It’s in-character! Write up a wishlist for your characters and in exchange receive another blog’s character’s wishlist - one which you either draw or write your character completing their gift as best they can.

This is not a full fledged event with a location your characters must attend, interact with others, etc. You only need to do three things: Write your character's wishlist, fill the sign-up form, and do your piece for who you get!

Continue reading for info on how to participate!

Important Links

Intro P.1 | Intro P.2 | Info Tag | Wishlist Template | Contact Info SIGNUP FORM TO PARTICIPATE

Continue reading for rules and other necessary info!

BASIC INFO

These are limited to Pokemon OC blogs or ask blogs!

One entry per PERSON.

The form to apply is found above, just make sure you read the full document first.

Do not expect to send or receive more than one gift (But you can choose to provide more than one should you be inspired)!

As part of your entry, you can submit multiple Wishlists for your characters, with one list each. This gives your Sender multiple options to choose from. More lists does not guarantee more gifts to receive. 

Senders may do as much or as little as they like with their submission, as long as it meets the minimum requirements for the post.

Feel free to reply to your Sender’s submission as well, and use it to kickstart an interaction!

You MUST keep your Recipient a secret.

Do not share with anybody that is also participating in the event. 

This event focuses around character interactions.

Politely, I ask you don’t join with the sole intent of getting free art or writing pieces. While I ask for effort in submissions, the main goal is to spark little interactions between the characters from different blogs!

TIMELINE

Assume all dates are done under the Eastern Standard Time Zone. We do not have exact times because our team is doing this within our availability and have life priorities outside of the event.

Our application period starts from now, and runs until the 3rd of November. 

Wishlists will be distributed on the 4th or the 5th, depending on availability and any extra organisation needed. 

You may start working on your submission as soon as you receive your Wishlist!

We will be checking in on submission progress on two separate WIP dates; the 25th of November and the 15th of December. This will be to make sure you’re on track with your submission.

 A verbal update is sufficient for the first Checkup, but we expect something more substantial by the second Checkup. 

If no update is received a backup entrant will be assigned to your Recipient. We will have one final Checkup on the 10th of January for unsubmitted posts.

As part of the above, PLEASE keep a line of communication open with us! We will be understanding if you find you cannot complete your gift and there is no judgement towards you should that occur. We want the event to be as fun as possible!

WISHLIST INFO

Wishlist Template | Example 1 | Example 2 | Example 3 | Example 4

Wishlist Due Date: November 3rd

Five Wishlist items per character, max.

As part of submitting your Wishlist, you MUST make sure to include some kind of visual reference for the characters that you are submitting lists for.

Wishlists may be posted publicly, and posting them is even encouraged! Tag them under #pokestarsending2023. 

Wishlists are allowed to be farfetched, abstract, or even impossible to complete in-canon if it is in-character for your OCs to request such a thing.

If you’re unsure what this qualifies as, check the list examples or confirm with a mod!

In the case something your character would ask for is something you as the blog owner does not want to be completed for plot or story reasons, please leave a note written OOC stating so!

Lists can be written in-character, out-of-character, by a different character on the blog, or just a simple bullet pointed list.

As everything is completed in-character, do not expect the Sender to complete any wishes in a proper manner if it doesn’t seem fit for them! 

SUBMISSION INFO

The period for posting for submissions will start on the 24th of December and ends on the 31st of January.

We ask that you send your submission to be checked over with us to make sure it meets all requirements. Once approved, you may post!

If you require more character info about your Recipient, you may ask us to ask for you while keeping you anonymous!

Remember: It is your character that is completing what is requested on the Wishlist. 

Your character does not need to be able to fully complete a gift item from your Recipient’s list, if it isn’t realistic for them (i.e. their Wishlist asks for Technology and your character is a Wild Pokemon, which may be unrealistic or abstract). HOWEVER, there should still be effort put forth by your character in providing the gift.

Try to keep the tone positive and heartwarming, unless you receive permission from the character owners for your submission to take on a different tone.

Post by @-ing your Recipient, and include the tag #pokestarsending2023! We will be reblogging all submissions.

If you are unavailable to post your piece during the submission period, please let us know! We can post it for you on our blog.

Writing minimum: 600 of words minimum.

600 words is the minimum we ask of a writing submission to make sure enough is put into describing the gift and/or gift giving process. If you find yourself struggling to meet the minimum, please reach out to us with your WIP so we can can help review it with you.

In the case you plan to write the Recipient as part of your submission, we will inform you if the person receiving would prefer you not to write their character in your submission. 

Instead, try focusing on other details: How would your character prepare the gift? What process do they take in doing so? To what lengths do they go? Also, make sure you describe the gift itself and how it’s delivered to its Recipient.

Art Minimum: Either a coloured full-body, or a half-body with a background (at least three props).

Must include the character of the Wishlist. Including your own character is encouraged.

Comic Minimum: Clean sketch, 3 panels.

Must include character of the Wishlist. Including your own character is encouraged.

The minimum requirements may change if we feel they need to be adjusted. We will announce any changes, and by the submissions drawing period, we will have finalised them.

Final Notes.

Questions and constructive feedback are always welcome and never stupid! We are happy to clarify anything. Be it through the messaging system, or ask. You can also contact us on discord for any further communication; please see the contact page on the Star Sending blog for more info!

If you are stumped in any way of participating, you are free to ask for help or feedback from the team!

To make sure you have read everything, I have included a little passcode requirement in the form. What was your first pokemon game? (Non-mainline games are valid)

Make sure to reference examples and templates to aid in your submission!

Thank you for your consideration in participating! I am just one person with some friends, hoping to run something nice for this community, and I sincerely hope I can do my best for you. Every effort to make this as great as can be is hugely and humbly cherished.

#info #pokestarsending #pokestarsending2023

[scary-lasagna]

What would happen if Toby found this cute ball of fluff of a mystery creature and took it home because he that it'd probably die without help. Then as it grew older it started to learn how to talk, hunt for its own food, ect. Then Slender realized it's actually a super powerful demon, but Toby was already kind of like it's daddy and it loved the proxies like family?

Beastly

“New pet :)”

“..Toby, no.”

It’s incredibly risky to have this cute call of death and destruction hobbling around the manor on Toby’s shoulders

As much as he is notorious for bringing home things he shouldn't bringing home a creature of death is certainty around the top of the list.

there are more Beasts of the Black Forest than one would assume. It's one of the first things that Toby learned about when he arrived at the manor.

Not only do other beings pose a risk when out on the field, but Beasts are dangerous to encounter depending on which kind you are dealing with.

The one that Toby has brought home is unidentified, which makes Slender think it's nothing but bad news. Every time Toby steps into the room, something bad happens.

Now, that's usually the norm for Toby, but he should at least be interacting with something or someone first.

Just the near presence of that creature has almost cost Slender death by bad luck. A knife falling, nearly tripping into the open loaded with steak knives dishwasher, almost dropping Mother's prized vase (she would have had his head on a stake).

He's fully convinced that the creature promotes Murphy's Law (added with some spice of near-death experiences as well).

Toby's new pet, who is now named Murphy who overheard Slender's complaints, had to be kept outside in a makeshift dog house that it will certainly grow out of in the future.

Toby spends all of his time with it, finally getting the dream of playing with his own 'dog' since he was little.

So perhaps Slender can make arrangements for the new family pet.

"You want me to w h a t?" Mrs. P merely glanced at the creature and furrowed her brow at Slender.

"Uncursify it, if you can. All it's good for is bringing bad luck and stealing food from dinner plates."

"Slender, darling, I'm not even sure if that's possible if it was born with it, but I suppose I can try to do some work on the poor thing."

And so, Mrs. P. took Murphy for a few days inside her little cottage on the cliff. She avoided and miraculously survived falling bubbling potions, burn marks, a pack of rabid opossums, and even Eyeless Jack falling through her chimney.

Although she was unsuccessful, Mrs. P managed to find a loophole around this mysterious force residing inside little Murphy.

Slender came with Toby that day to pick him up, and the inside of the cottage was in near shambles but Mrs. P looked pleased with the result of the beast.

"Oh you put bling on him." Toby laughed and held both of the beast's paws to admire the sparkling necklace around his companion's neck.

"It's a charm blessed with luck and whatever handful of crystals and luck-based artifacts I could get my hands on in three days. And since he's had it on, I haven't been attacked by a single opossum. In fact, they all mysteriously fell asleep in the fire pit."

"Why do you say possum like that?" Slender squinted.

"Like what? I say it just how you say it except I write it with an 'o' on paper."

"..."

And with that note, they left for home, and Murphy was allowed to eat off Toby's plate once more. Murphy will continue to grow into the size of a large dog, but he's content being the perfect size to nap across Toby's shoulders for now.

#ticci toby #toby rogers #slender #slenderman #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta blog #creepypasta headcanons #beasts of the black forest #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta imagine #toby

[tiikerikani]

I hate to be That Guy (who starts the queue)

(but somebody has to do it)

I'm trying to keep this brief because I need to sleep so I can do this again tomorrow.

2023.12.09 – Tavastia-klubi, Helsinki

It's cold. I decided to start hovering by the door at 5:15, though I'd already been standing around outside since 5. (Doors were at 6:30.) I can't feel my toes. Why am I like this???

Janne pops out and is going to the mall across the street (he returns later with a bag of food from the supermarket). He thanks me for the miniature and says it's "fabulous".

Senpai comes out carrying a backpack and says hi to me, then goes down the street the other way. I assume their hotel is over in that direction, as I saw three more band members exit carrying bags and going that way.

The space feels so small now, now that I've been to several newer and bigger clubs. I'm dead centre and I don't remember the barricade being so close to the stage in here. I can literally reach over and swipe a set list if I wanted to. When it's this close, being in the centre is no good for taking pictures of Senpai but that's okay today because I'm mostly trying to get more pictures to match my miniatures.

Leo's got an invisible microphone, lol :P

Senpai asks who's coming back tomorrow. A bunch of hands shoot up into the air. "IF ONLY WE COULD HAVE ACTUALLY GOTTEN TICKETS!" "YOU SHOULD DO A THIRD SHOW!!"

Yes my too-much-gesturing is 100% Senpai's fault

Too many of them wearing sneakers today

The Regular Groupies were talking to ... somebody who waves at me. "Hello!" she calls. It's her again!! "HOW DID YOU GET IN TO TAMPERE!??" I don't recall actually seeing her there last week but she'd have known because miniatures appeared there (and she's definitely Teemu's significant other, as the two of them left holding hands).

Janne says that "the set list is the same [tomorrow] but the atmosphere will be different". It won't be the first time I see them on a Sunday and yeah Sunday crowds are generally a bit more subdued.

I also asked him to suggest a song for me to learn next (with the caveat that I might not take it up). He named one of the old old songs; it's in the music book so I wouldn't have to work out the chords/melody. ("Have you learned all the songs from the book???" What, no :D ) He says it's fairly easy but still has interesting subtleties, and that he wrote it with Teemu so it's also, like, written on a piano and thus more playable on a piano.

"But if you want to do a new song..." he continues, "there's the one that we haven't performed yet? Don't remember the name, it goes like..." He's thinking of Jamesin takki and I think it's funny that I'm filling in the song title for him. "It'd be really challenging, I'd say it's the hardest song on the album. It has the modulation and it's in a difficult key...E-flat minor or something?" ("I'd transpose it, I'm lazy :D")

But oh no I know. It's the one that made me seriously reconsider my silly idea to learn the entire album on the piano, which I came up with before I listened to the whole thing.

Yeah I dunno about that song.

(Edit: I just checked my notes, it starts in F-sharp minor, which is much more reasonable. He was probably thinking of Ilman mua, which IS in E-flat minor and which, yes, I did transpose but could just as easily learn in the original key.)

I also think it's funny that they have to take all the equipment and the barricade and everything down just to put it all back up tomorrow. The equipment I understand, to keep it under lock and key, but I think the barricades come down so they can get the stuff out the door? Dunno.

I'm feeling lazy, here's the set list. (It is also on my arm as usual but I've had to come up with new symbols and I wasn't sure I'd remember what they meant by the time I got home.)

[Concert write-up archive and master calendar]

#music #concerts #vesterinen yhtyeineen #set list #pianists gonna piano #amateurs gonna amateur

[artobotsrollout]

Skdjfkg oh that is A MOOD, I leave sentence bits all the time. What are Thundercracker and Skywarp like? What are some things they like and dislike? I'm so so SO happy you're bringing Star's trine in!!

[I am so so sorry this has taken me so long to answer. I was so pumped to answer then I over thought my answer then I was worried because I wasn't sure if some things I said about them were going to be canon or not and then other drafts overtook it and made it hard to navigate to. 😢 I seriously appreciate your asks.]

Woo for half forgotten sentence bits!

And I'm so glad that you and other peeps are excited about the inclusion of Thundercracker and Skywarp in The Harbingers AU!!

Things may change as more of the story is developed but have my current thoughts on them.

Answers to your questions and a WIP sneak peak at Skywarp's design below the Readmore.

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

Before I begin I'm gonna get the obligatory 'This is not canon compliant nor other continuity compliant' general warning out of the way. (It's not aimed at anyone specifically I'm just covering my bases here. Also cause I'm ignoring fanon and a lot of canon unless I think it fits and like it. )

ONTO THE QUESTIONS!

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

What are Thundercracker and Skywarp like?

What are some things they like/dislike?

Skywarp and Thundercracker play a pretty big role in the Harbingers storyline so I'm P excited about em.

-Starscream is resilient, adaptive, cunning, unpredictable, brilliant, regal, precise, and dangerous. Hard to kill. Stubborn. He's not Megatron's second in command for a large chunk of time for kicks.

-Thundercracker is diplomatic, creative, hard to read, reliable, heavy hitter, perceptive, and a touch eccentric.

-Skywarp is mischievous, fast, a glass canon, hard to hit, hard to pin down, chaotic, intuitive, clever, and ruthless.

Thundercracker

A mech of few words and lacking in many exuberant expressions, many wonder what mysteries said mech hides. Some people pity him for Starscream and Skywarp 'stealing the spotlight'. Some think he's the real 'brains behind it all' and is too busy 'reigning in' his trine mates to live up to his true potential. Truth is that Thundercracker actually dislikes the spotlight and loves the energy that Skywarp and Starscream have (even if he gripes about it sometimes). Starscream is the brains, but he does run some things by TC when he needs another opinion. He really wishes that people would stop coming to him and putting his trine mates down just because they are energetic and expressive! He loves their energy and personalities! No one needs 'reigning in' and saying otherwise isn't alright. Those who work closely with the lead trine usually learn real fast not to disrespect any of the trine. Except Ramjet. Ramjet is stubborn and refuses to stop being a little shit about everyone even though he's punished with terrible duties every time he does so. The only ones allowed to insult his trinemates are him and his trinemates.

Many assume Thundercracker must be the straight man to Skywarp's nonsense upon acquaintance but they would all be very wrong. TC just gives off less of an outward obvious energy compared to Skywarp and Starscream. Between the three of them he's basically the best with people and most diplomatic. Can be manipulative if a situation requires it. Kinda has Grimlock from Cyberverse energy. (my headcanon Grimlock in my AU is the Grimlock that's in RiD15 because that's peak him IMO) For a Decepticon he's considered rather polite. The fact that he's the one people usually approaches first annoys TC to no end.

He limits how much he talks, outside of the company of mechs he actually likes to talk to, to save energy. Helping Starscream keep the mechs who follow him happy and helping to find solutions for arguments requires a lot of diplomatic skills and patience which can sometimes leave him exhausted. On his off time he usually sticks close to his trine or hides in his quarters.

He frequently plays the moral centre when situations get outta hand. Closet theatre kid. Some people have made the mistake of calling him "soft". But the whole Trine holds such a high rank in the Decepticons for a reason. And Starscream would not have trined with just anyone.

I'm still kinda figuring TC out so the above may change as time goes on. His personality and deeper motivations are just not coming to me quite like Skywarp's, Ironhide's, and Jazz's did. I think I need to write some head trine shenanigans to really figure his whole deal out.

Likes

Stories in any form. (He comes to really enjoy cartoons, comics, and musicals.)

Watching awful movies and shows with Skywarp and Starscream and mocking it mercilessly.

Writing and art

Cute things

Earth animals

Discussing nerd art and literature stuff with Starscream

Helping Skywarp plan his pranks

Dislikes

Megatron

Having nothing to do/boredom

When Skywarp and Starscream argue about something small and unimportant.

Headcanon Voiceactor Potentials:

Markiplier or ProZD

Notes:

Has a small superstitious streak that Skywarp has been known to abuse with his pranking.

A closet theatre nerd

Has a great singing voice and secretly wishes someone would break into song with him.

Skywarp

Lil sneak peek of my Harbingers Skywarp design!!

I've been tweaking things about his design for awhile now and I'm still tweaking but I'm finally getting somewhere sncjek. Fun fact about his design!! For some of his proportions I'm referencing ferret anatomy.

Does a lot of cackling while he fights. Switches between rough front line scrapper to sneaky stealth attacks.

Skywarp is the sort of person who is more than meets the eye. I'm sorry I HAD to 😂.

Skywarp is very high energy with a mischievous streak a mile long. He is unapologetically himself and gives exactly zero frags about what most others think of him. Besides the whole cackling like a gremlin at everything and causing problems on purpose thing, Skywarp is pretty easygoing temperament wise. He isn't afraid of change or the new and unusual. He let's things go quickly so he's almost impossible to prank or insult back in any satisfying way since he really isn't bothered by much. He really doesn't care that he has a reputation of not being the smartest cause it means people underestimate him. He's more patient and skilled than he lets on. He and Thundercracker are two of Starscream's closest right hand mechs for a reason. But he's not self conscious about this perception and sometimes will actively play into it. An enemy who underestimates you is a more easily beatable one. Skywarp is still loveably head empty no thoughts though. He reserves his patience and smarts for pranks and the battlefield. He has zero brain to mouth filter and is impulsive 70% of the time. Oddly drops wisdom bombs on occasion.

Skywarp's hijinks also kind of puts him in a role similar to a court jester. He acts goofy because that's just who he is a person but the upside of that is some people don't take him as seriously as they should. So he overhears a LOT of conversations from mechs who assume he's not listening. This makes it handy to give Starscream inside information.

Another upside of people underestimating him is it makes it almost laughably easy to get the drop on people. Don't be fooled by his goofiness this mech can be dangerously patient. His impressive agility, surprising patience, and ridiculously good hand eye coordination make him unpredictably deadly for foe and prankable ally alike. He can play the long game.

Likes

Pranks

Dumb dad jokes and puns.

Watching awful movies and shows with Thundercracker and Starscream and mocking it mercilessly.

Copying stunts he saw in a movie once

Saying or doing things wrong on purpose purely to annoy his trine mates

Watching horror movies and laughing every time someone dies an easily preventable death. Is frequently overheard whispering "Get em!" at the monster/serial killer.

Dancing

Dislikes

Starscream and Thundercracker having loud philosophical arguments discussions when he's trying to sleep

Being nitpicked

Musicals

Headcanon Voiceactor Potentials:

Bradley Cooper (Similar voice he does for Rocket in Guardians of the Galaxy)

Again I'm so sorry this took so long!! I was actually planning on waiting till I finished their rough references but I'm STILL struggling with TC and I don't want to postpone this any longer so Ill just post the refs when I finish them. Thank you so much again for the questions you send in! I love and appreciate them and they are always a blast to answer.

#Harbingers au #The Harbingers au #My aus #Skywarp #Thundercracker #H!Skywarp #H!Thundercracker #harbingers #harbingers continuity #autothots continuities #autothots aus

[blazewatergem]

Sweet Story - Trick or Treat

“Just a little longer, Bella baby, I gotta get it right.”

Cleona chuckles at the whine Bella gives out, and patiently waits until the toddler is no longer puffing her cheeks to continue putting on her makeup.

It’s Halloween night, and already the camp has done all the greatest hits - pumpkin carving, decorating, and baking Eleanor’s famous pumpkin swirl cinnamon rolls.

They even had breakfast outside by the lakeshore, enjoying the crisp air as Fall’s last stronghold fell to winter’s army.

Now, though, it was time to go out and get some candy. Which is why Cleona was currently doing Bella’s makeup, listening as the others got ready outside the bathroom.

“Kitty, why can’t you come with us?” Bella asks, and while she still has a pout on her face the rest of the makeup goes on smoothly.

“I can’t wear my Glamore for that long, little queen.” Cleona is careful when planting a kiss on her forehead, before setting the tiara on it, “It doesn’t work as well at night, and only in emergencies. Besides, you’ll be out with Charlie, Alex, Phil and the Marksman.”

That sure is a deeply dramatic sigh from a six year old, and Bella is happy to demonstrate such an act.

“Oooookkkkkkk.” She drones out, but is back to smiling soon enough.

“Think I’ll fill up my pail?”

“Totally, bumblebee.”

🎃

Cleona wanted to laugh at seeing everyone’s costumes. As much as she has always wanted to go out trick or treating - her body wouldn’t let her, she couldn’t fake anything, not like the others - there was something nice about staying home.

Bella was dressed up as a Queen Bee - a frilly, Victorian dress and crown on her brow with swiped Tinker Bell wings - while Alex was her Valkyrie guardian, complete with an armored dress, because Alex never does things in halves.

Sabella had instead decided to turn in early - the drop in heat was making her more and more tired, draining her energy like a slow leak in a boat.

Charlie…

There was no easy way to describe what Charlie was dressed up as. He was wearing his human disguise, which looked so fake he could pass off as wearing a costume. Tonight was one of the few nights he could pass it off instead of freaking others out.

Cleona always thought he looked like he was wearing someone’s skin - a mannequin styled creature, puppeteering itself - but hey, that works on Halloween.

The Marksman - an adult who no one has ever seen or properly heard - was wearing his cloak and mask like always. No big surprise.

Finally, Phil was dressed up as a game show host. He was a middle aged, kindly blond man with a sweet smile.

Everyone called him Old Man. No exceptions.

As she waved the group off, watching them head into the truck and off to neighborhoods beyond…

Cleona walks back into the camp boundaries, out into the forest, and runs.

🎃

Later, when she returns picking leaves out of her hair and burrs in her fur, Cleona sees the truck pulling in and smiles. No, grins. She loves a lot of stuff about Halloween —

But this has to be the best part.

Bella barely pauses when the truck door swings open, jumping out and sprinting for the front door, even tugging on it a couple of times before turning back and shouting wordlessly for Phil. He has to shut off the truck before joining her, letting Alex and Charlie out of the back seat.

They join Cleona in watching, Charlie slowly letting his human-suit plop off and Alex with his arms crossed, smirking.

“Old man is about to lose so much.”

“Oh, yeah? Good trick or treat night then, huh?”

“Hell yeah. You got a stick in your hair by the way.”

“Oh, dammit.”

🎃

The Halloween ritual between Phil and Bella goes as follows; After a long night of trick or treating, Bella brings her bag into the kitchen to be checked out. The candy is dumped onto the countertop, and Phil helps her sort through it.

The candy goes into three piles. One pile is for anything labeled King Size, or is considerably large enough to count as - Phil likes to eyeball it, Bella’s the stickler on these rules.

The second pile is any candy that is sugar free. This candy will be set off to the side, and not be counted.

The third pile is…everything else. The Reese’s, the Hershey’s, the Kit-Kats and Snickers. The gumdrops, the lollipops, the knock-offs and strangers.

Anything with sugar, really. Which, for the most part, Bella couldn’t eat without getting sick. It used to be such an awful thing, especially around holidays like Halloween. It wasn’t her fault, just part of her bee-like biology.

So, he came up with an idea. Which leads to the next part of the ritual, where Phil kindly puts all the pile three candy back into Bella’s bag, and sets it on a kitchen scale bought just for this.

He laughs, “Oh, dear, Bella, how’d you get this to…roughly ten pounds, love?”

She crosses her arms and smirks, a look he recognizes from none other than the golden-winged teen outside, “I got it myself!”

He dutifully doesn’t admit to seeing Alex and Charlie trying to shove their candy into Bella’s bag, or hearing her giggle at their exaggerated acting the entire way home.

“Well, then. That’s ten pounds of regular candy, plus…oh, look at that, five king sized candy bars. Look at that, buzzy baby, I think that’s more than last year!”

And thus, as Phil pats the girl on the head, he realizes with a sigh that - Yep.

She definitely likes this system just a bit more than she should.

🎃

The three teens look up, seeing the triumphant look on Bella’s face, and laugh when she holds one tiny child fist up with glee.

“I GOT TWENTY DOLLARS!”

#talking fire #surefire camp universe #Bella goes trick or treating! #love this one haha #happy halloween

[jonathankatwhatever]

My usual trick to avoid being blocked from the creative flow is to begin. Because not beginning is not entering the Pathway of that Storyline. I’m trying to accept these terms are working notation, not my way of covering up that I rely on fantasy and on visions, that these teach me what I know, that these frustrate me continuously with their ruthless identity checks.

I’ve realized over the past few days that of a certain number of threads, some are bluntly wrong, like it’s not to the left side of the road and you should have turned there. It may also be a statement about myself that is partially true and I see only the bad side, which means there’s a choice in which to choose. See the connection? Both are routes, the one literal, which is easy to accept because we all do it all day long: we can’t avoid making small physical mistakes all the time. The other is a result of the larger idea that 1Space accompanies 0Space and yet remains inaccessible.

It’s been quite difficult to phrase this. Came to me last night but I already had the lights out and my head was heavy, so I decided to chance it til morning. Couldn’t even remember what happened, but it’s coming back. Sometin’ bout how all the tools we have show that once we connect a Thing, then we have connected Things, and thus there is the 1Space structure alongside the 0Space structure which is our dimensional existence. I had that connected, in the dark in the toilet, to the actual process being orthogonal at each piece which appears in the three to four dimensions which we actually construct using D-structure. All this happened in a flash, but I also remember seeing the construction, which is now appearing in my head as SBE3 connecting or Attaching in the (1+(SBE3)+1) form. So this is 2 sheets, front&back with the minimal Attachment of 1 in SBE form. Okay, so what I’m seeing is this spawns a central gs, a CM1, so we now have a clear within CM1 and outside CM1.

I’m astonished because I’ve been trying to see this for decades. And it’s exactly what I saw then, now apparently confirmed in a long SBE2 process. Note that SBE2 means resonances of SBE2. So you have doubling, which is part of Halving/Doubling, because that is visible on a sheet, and you can thus see relationships like if you increases this on this sheet, then this happens on this sheet. That’s merely the embodiment we find in a person, that we are 1 made of 2. That construction is what allows the higher level Triangulars of Attachment. I can now see dimensional Attachment in depth versus a la mode or dans le vent.

So a doubling of SBE to 6,12,24 is 2,4,8,16 is 4 8 16 32, and thus 8 to 64. I can relate the count of steps, and so on. Not sure why at this moment, other than to note the coincide if you change trains, and that requires repeating a step. Like 24 + 8 to 32 to 64 requires using an 8 from the thread that ends in 64, so to me it’s like inserting a run to 64, and using that to verify the 64 reached through this additional process. That’s like the gs prime process: it tests identity as a prime, meaning as a 1, by checking to see what adds or multiplies or otherwise combines to make that number, except it doesn’t do that: it only accepts correct answers because those are the only ones which penetrate to the other side, to the far edge.

That really is the point of P and NP, isn’t it? If it’s P, then we’re talking about something which is visible, whose permutations and Pathways can be listed out or at least described so they can be calculated. If it’s NP, then the solution is an Attachment to another sheet where the calculation fits. This also means acceptable to the other side.

This gets me back to the reflection principle and the allure of doing wrong: when you connect an idea of action to an action and that gives you something, meaning the age old question of rage and anger as motivation, as energy. If I could get through that now.

It forms an End, a Triangular. It’s negative but that expresses the negative within the Thing, which takes me to the conception of last night, that the 1-0Space description, what we call gsSpace, acts as a Thing of Things, an entity too large to be an entity, and always incomplete because 0Space is constructed and thus is transitory, while the accompanying 1Space records this in the Registry of Actualities, where Actualities are the Ends which count only in the Registry, in the sense that they can’t be seen directly here, like being unable to look directly in the mirror because any view of you is incomplete, is a perspective, and is thus associated with permutations, thoughts, feelings, and more.

Why does negativity generate action? Higher energy level in attack. Higher energy level in defense.

Taking a break.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Mistress of the House by A young writer

Anime » Kuroshitsuji Rated: T, French, Romance & Drama, Ciel P., Elizabeth M., Words: 61k+, Favs: 6, Follows: 5, Published: Apr 11, 2019 Updated: Oct 9

11Chapter 7

-x-

It is December 1, 1894. It is 2:27 p.m. in London. The streets are cold and covered with frost. The chimneys of the houses spit out the black smoke from their lungs. All of England is enveloped in the languid aura of winter, and the gilding of Buckingahm Palace is no exception.

Coming out of this palace, Count Phantomhive followed by his butler. The frown never seeming to want to detach itself from his person, he headed with a determined step towards his car.

Very quickly, the young man and his suite took the road towards his land. The trip to the capital had already exhausted him and now he had to leave for another little more than four hours on the road. And to add to his misfortune, her majesty the queen had surely not helped by insinuating to him that certainly he would not go to India immediately, but that he should prepare for the eventuality of going there. go soon. The knowledge of another long and bumpy journey gave the Count a deafening headache.

To try to calm her down, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips and practiced some breathing exercises. Only, it was of no use. Astre rummaged frantically in his coat pockets looking for his cigar case. Eventually he found it on his second search in the right pocket of his coat. His joy was great, but quickly faded when he saw that the box was empty. Angry at not being able to relieve his suffering other than with time; the Count threw the silver case angrily through the carriage. The box bounces off the front seat, eventually landing half-broken on the floor.

The inferno of his dissatisfaction swirled in his chest, forming a tornado of dismay, confusion, and embarrassment at his weakness. His mind haunted by his fragile physical condition, he curled up in the back of his chair, tightened his coat around his body, then closed his eyes.

The evil that was crushing his head was not going away. Despite the heat of his anger, it did not warm him. The nights that his mission had given him were all too long and separated from the rest the Count needed. Then when the possibility of dozing off came, if she wasn't swept away by nightmares, she was thrown back by discomfort and worry. In short, he found himself even more exhausted than before his departure a few months ago.

After this sudden realization, his first thoughts were that Elizabeth was not going to be happy with her overworked state. She would probably scold him. Ask him a thousand questions about his well-being, tiring him even more. Have him prepare a bath. Would ask to put a hot water bottle at the foot of their mattress. Would help him get comfortable in their blanket. Then finally, would pass him a cup of hot milk with honey. By the way, she will have made the drink herself; because after having read in a novel that the action of preparing something for the loved one was a proof of love, his wife declared the plebeian gesture to be extremely romantic. So without waiting, she was trained to prepare her favorite drink.

Obviously, the brew wouldn't be as good as if Sebastian or the late Tanaka had brewed it. But knowing that Elizabeth was working so hard on such a small thing. All this to make him feel some semblance of comfort… It wasn't so bad.

His journey continued, and time passed. One o'clock; two o'clock; three hours; four hours; five hours. Then finally, Count Phantomhive found himself outside his mansion. Nightfall, starless sky, 7:30 p.m. has just passed. But we all know that winter has always been quick to wipe even the slightest trace of sunshine from its skies.

Snake opened the car door so his master could get out. The tired eyes of the young noble instantly fell on the imposing stones of his house. Then his gaze went to the window of the second living room. The light was on and a distorted piano sound could be heard.

Even before Astre arrived at the bottom of her door, the demon at her side whispered "Looks like the Countess is accompanied tonight."

The young man turned back to his butler, and suspiciously asked "Who is it?"

To which the servant humbly replied, "I cannot tell you, master. The soul being near your wife is unknown to me. But I am certain that it belongs to a healthy adult man." At the end of his sentence, the demon's smile widened.

The count's face tightened, and the hand holding his cane tightened. He thought for a moment on the spot, what behavior he should have faced with this stranger. The sound of piano keys and wrong notes now sounded perfectly in his ears. The person playing had a heavy hand on the keyboard, and this game, however ungraceful, managed to make Elizabeth laugh. Then all of a sudden, a light and simple melody was heard. Star immediately recognized her wife's delicate play and her lips curved slightly upwards. Only his smile disappeared quickly when the cacophony of earlier resumed. The noble young man, bored with thinking and waiting in the cold, rolled his eyes at his fear of the unknown, then hurried up the steps towards his mansion.

Sebastian opened the double doors for her, and closed them again without a hitch after his master passed. Soon, the arriving group saw Finny coming towards them. He stopped right in front of the count and with a military salute and then a big smile, spoke "Good evening, my lord! How was your trip?"

Astre sighed and answered "Tired..."

Then a loud slamming of the door sounded. All present heads turned to the noise. Breathless, red cheeks, and wide eyes, the Countess found herself there, in the doorway leading to the second living room.

Suddenly the master of the place no longer had the use of speech. It had been so long since he had seen her. She hadn't changed. Still as beautiful, still as alive... Man and woman stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Then, cheeks slightly rosy, the Count took the first step to break the silence. He took off his hat and said in a shaky voice, "Good evening."

Without further ado, Elizabeth lifted her skirts and rushed towards Astre. Once near him she pulled him into a hug. The shock of her body against his made the Count lose his balance slightly. He quickly let go of his top hat and cane, reflexively placing his arms around his wife's waist. The young woman succeeded without any problem in stabilizing them, and continued to embrace her beloved.

After a few seconds, the Countess withdrew enough to be able to look her husband in the eye. The latter who so hated the slightest human contact, this time he did not make the effort to avoid it.

"I missed you so much..." she said tenderly with tears welling up in her eyes. Elizabeth began to gently caress the young man's face with one hand. Then suddenly framed her face with both hands to shout "But you're frozen!". She continued to inspect him "And you're pale! Have you lost weight again? My God! You're dark circles up to your cheeks!" The young woman withdrew her husband's arms from her waist, and took him by the hand to lead him towards the dining room. "You have to eat!" continuing her walk, she turned her gaze to the gardener "Finny, go tell Bard to heat up some soup, chicken and vegetable garden!"

The servant answered at attention "Immediately Madame la Comtesse!" and left as quickly as possible.

This time stopping in her tracks she turned to the butler "Sebastian, finish emptying the car with Snake. And once done, you too can enjoy a hot meal." the above-named bowed to the lady, then went to carry out their task.

Before Elizabeth started dragging him back to the dining room Astre finally managed to speak "Wait, Lizzy. Calm down. I'm not very hungry... And frankly, I'd rather know who-" but he could not finish his sentence, his wife cut him off.

"Oh no! None of that with me, Mr. Phantomhive. I won't force you to finish your plate, however you must swallow something!" she said in a firm voice, but marked with concern for him.

The Earl being too exhausted to confront her at the time, then decided that despite his curiosity and distrust of the unexpected guest in his mansion; this time he would override that. He trusts her. He knows that in due time she will talk about them, and present them properly. For now, he let the question slide; as everyone left the guest with their only person for company.

When the masters of the place finally arrived in the dining room, the young woman helped her husband to take off his coat, made him sit at the end of the table, then settled herself at his side.

Waiting for the food, Elizabeth said it would be fashionable to have a little chat. She coughed to get his attention. "So how was it...this...business trip?"

The count noticed that she had had a hard time naming what her missions for the crown were supposed to be. He also understood that she wasn't asking for a specific answer. Although she always clamored for help and knowledge, his wife knew that now was not the time. She's just trying to put him at ease through mundane conversations. He couldn't blame her, and instead acknowledged the effort by responding as if nothing had happened. "A bit hectic at first...but...we came to an agreement...It was a long time."

She nodded "I see...And how is dear Sullivan?"

At the mention of Sieglinde, Astre sighed. "As good as usual...She's...noisy."

The Countess nodded again, and an awkward silence followed. She tried to make him talk, trying to release the weight resting on the shoulders of her beloved. Only Astre had never been very eloquent when it came to real discussions. But to his surprise, the Count asked a question.

"And you... How did you do while I was gone?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, pretty good. The days were quiet." she laughed "Except of course when James-". She paused, her face draining of color, soon to flare up. And suddenly she got up "Oh my God! How could I!" she turned to her husband "Oh, I beg your pardon Astre." then all agitated and stuttering she continued "James...is, uh...A friend! Baron Rosemary introduced me on his return from Japan. And his name is Connor, and, and... Oh, and I invited him to tea! Then the piano... And, Oh my God! I left him alone without even giving him a second look! Oh my God, I'm sorry!"

Her husband took her hand "Calm down Elizabeth. And stop calling on God, I think he heard you."

At his sarcastic comment she looked him in the eye "It's not Star time! I just brought shame on the Phantomhive house!"

To which he replied, "If the Phantomhives cared about any shame brought every time they ignored someone, we probably wouldn't be here."

"Star!" the countess was offended. "I just invited a man into our house, and I didn't even have the decency to introduce him to you properly!" she caught her breath "And I gave it up!". His eyes drifted to one of the large windows. "But, it's pitch dark! Oh, I hope he hasn't just left... It would be too dangerous to travel on horseback alone in his condition! I'm going to catch up with him right away!"

But before she rushes out of his reach, Astre reaches for his wife's second hand "Madame Phantomhive, please calm down." at the sound of his name she swallowed and looked him in the eyes. Seeing that he had her full attention he continued quietly, "Sit down, please." She obeys him. "You don't need to go there yourself. We have servants for that." A short silence fell, and that's when the cook entered the room, silver tray in hand. The latter put down the ordered food, then before he left, his employer stopped him with his voice "Bard, go see if Mr. James Connor is still around, bring him here. Then tell Mey-rin that I the begging."

"Good, Master." He answered lazily, and left.

The Count looked his wife in the eyes for a while, then began to drink his soup with a spoon. Elizabeth did not move, still having recovered from the embarrassment she had caused. Finally 10 minutes passed in silence, until someone knocked on the door, then entered.

Her glasses still on top of her head, looking disheveled, and a leaf in her hair, the maid of the Phantomhive Manor saluted breathlessly, "Nice to see you again Master. What can I do for you?"

Star stopped eating and ordered, "Have one of the guest rooms ready, then walk Elizabeth's guest in... Oh, and run me a bath."

Like her collaborator previously, the young woman greeted her boss, however with more enthusiasm, before going to accomplish her task.

The count continued his meal, the countess still didn't say a word, but gave him a smile of thanks. This time a comfortable silence settled. But once again the master of the house interrupted him "So, if I heard you correctly. This man's first name is James and his last name is Connor? Right?"

She replied cheerfully, "Yes, you were right! Considering the speed of my babbling, I'm surprised you picked it up. Your ability to assimilate things quickly will always impress me!"

He gave her a tight smile "If his name is Connor, why are you calling him James?"

"Oh...well, over time...we became really good friends. So naturally the use of our first names came...but, I admit, that's kinda...misplaced." I wouldn't do it again. I beg your pardon..." the young woman admitted flushed with embarrassment.

Her husband whispered, "It doesn't matter. I just hope your friend has better intellectual ability than he has talent for the piano."

At this remark Elizabeth burst out laughing. "Yes, it's true that he is very bad. Our parrots could play better than him. But he has the will to learn, and that's a quality."

"One of the best." Astre continued.

The couple continued talking for a while, until the man finished eating. After that, the two went up together to their apartment. Once there, the Countess let her husband go to the bathroom, then told him she would call Sebastian to help him.

The young nobleman was now in his bathtub, his butler washing his hair. The demon would recap the schedule for the next day to his master; only, it seemed that his words were lost in the wind.

Without even making it sound like he had any interest in what Sebastian was saying, he cut him off "What does James Connor look like?". The question was legitimate, after all he had barely been able to make out the man's silhouette.

"He's quite tall. I'd say he's about 2 centimeters my height, for more precision. He has short, blonde, curly hair. Hazel eyes. And an athlete's build and walk." the butler continued his task. "For more human opinions: Mey-rin said he found his appearance charming; Bard nodded with great difficulty to this description; Finny compared him to a statue, which I think looks like any sketch of Rodin. And finally Snake is not pronounced. But his snakes did it without hesitation. Are you interested in an amphibian opinion?"

Astre sighed "No..."

The count who never paid much attention to his appearance. All of a sudden, found himself having less confidence in him. Knowing that a man accepted as handsome by society had spent the last few months, probably all the time alone, with his wife; neither reassured him nor filled him with joy. It was stupid. That she enjoyed spending time with a beautiful person didn't mean he was ugly. However... In his exhausted state, logic (mixed with the suspicions of a certain emotion) failed him greatly.

Sebastian, seeing the look of annoyance on his master's face, slowly poured the hot water from the pitcher on the young man's scalp, then added this "Don't worry. I thought I saw, that Madame la comtesse had a preference for small, dark, embittered-looking beings, rather than tall, blond, chivalrous-looking ones."

Following such a comment, Astre's blood boiled. He sighed, then took the sponge resting on a table next to him, to throw it brutally in the direction of the demon. The latter, of course, caught the projectile without incident.

A few minutes later, the young man finally came out of the bathroom. Sebastian had left before him, and was no longer in sight. He inspected the room, but Elizabeth wasn't there. He didn't pay much attention to it and went to bury himself in his drabs. Well almost. He sat waiting for his wife to return, no longer in the habit of falling asleep in bed without her by his side.

After 10 minutes, she appeared dressed in her night clothes, her hair down, and a mug of hot milk in her hand. Knowing it was for him, his lips curled upward slightly, then he reached out for the drink. The Countess passed him to hesitate, then settled herself in the blankets.

Star took a sip, only something seemed odd. The drink was just how he liked it. He turned his attention to the person accompanying him "You didn't?"

She looked him in the eye. "Oh no. When I gave James a taste of my concoction- I mean Mr. Connor. He told me it was awful." she ends up laughing. "I then decided not to force you to drink my concoctions until they were perfect!"

The count made no remark and his face remained neutral. But deep inside his blood was boiling.

-x-

Here come the juicy juice.

8

-x-

In England, the winter sun had not yet risen, and the hour announced that the Earl would soon wake up. However Elizabeth was against this idea. She thought that after such a long journey her husband deserved to rest. Instead, waking up, the Countess tiptoed off in search of the butler. And it was after calling him without shouting that she found him.

"Hello ma'am. Did you ask for me?" Sebastian greeted.

Wanting to be sure not to disturb anyone, the young woman answered quietly "Yes. I wanted to ask you not to wake my husband before at least 9 am."

The butler sighed "I don't think it's possible, madam. Unfortunately, Monsieur le Comte has a timetable to respect. And you know like me that he really cares about it."

"I'm sorry Sebastian. Let him rest. You saw how exhausted he is too." she begged.

After a moment of reflection, the butler gave in, "Very well, ma'am. But in that case, what do we do with your guest? Should we wake him up at 9 o'clock as well?"

"Oh, no... Get him up at 7:30 a.m. We'll have tea together at 8 a.m. in the parlor; before you serve breakfast at 9:30 a.m. in the dining room. That way I'll have time to m talk to James beforehand- I mean Mr. Connor, and we could have lunch with my husband." informed the hostess.

The servant nodded "Good, ma'am."

Elizabeth having accomplished her mission, was about to return to her quarters. However, she remembered that she had forgotten to tell Sebastian that her wake-up time would be the same as usual.

She then turned around, and spoke to the butler again, "Don't forget to tell Mey-rin that it doesn't change the fact that she has to come and dress me at 7:30 a.m. And tell her also that she must not knock before entering. I would not want her to wake up Astre." Then she left with peace of mind, knowing that everything had been rearranged as she wished.

-0-

Once in her room, as quietly as possible the Countess slipped into her blankets. The mansion may have been very modern and luxurious, but unfortunately that still didn't stop the cool morning air from seeping through the walls. And that little talk in the hallway with Sebastian had chilled her.

Sinking into the mattress and the pillows, she was trying at the moment to recover the warmth she had earlier abandoned. She knew it probably wouldn't help now, knowing she would have to be up in 24 minutes. But the young woman found that 24 minutes was enough minutes to wait to be able to stay in bed. Especially now that her husband was by her side.

This brought her back to the first time she had slept with Astre. It was after their marriage; they had left the lights on. The atmosphere was heavy and embarrassing. Everyone sat on one side of the bed not knowing what to do. Nervousness gnawing at them, the Countess began to admire the bedding while the Count found the tapestry much more interesting. Elizabeth knew what would have to happen, but she also knew that her new husband was not about to take this step. And deep down, she wasn't either. She wanted to tell him that they didn't have to do it right away. But she didn't know how to do it without inadvertently hurting or upsetting him.

The young man's mind could be described as chaotic. He was consumed by his fears. The memories of carnal pleasures disgusted him. He couldn't think of doing this to someone he cared about. Above all, he didn't want to have to experience that again. Astre knew that this night should not be compared to her traumas. But the instinct driven by our sensations and emotions often thinks differently than our brain. However, he knew he should. It was his duty, his responsibility as a man, he had to honor his wife's body to close the engagement and hope to produce an heir.

But even the pressure of this necessity did not encourage him. On the contrary, it paralyzed him even more than before.

What if he doesn't react to his body? What if he can't go all the way? What if he hurts her? What if he doesn't like it?

Mountains of similar questions kept pouring into his mind, pinning him to the spot.

The two young men, not moving an inch because of their thoughts filled with worries, remained in their respective places for more than a quarter of an hour. It will only be at the hearing of the Earl's rapid breathing that Elizabeth will act. Her head quickly turned to the person beside her, then seeing her companion's agitated look, she moved closer.

The Countess gripped the young man's hands tightly in hers, and under her breath cried, "I'll be fine!" Surprised Astre jumped, and locked her gaze on her partner's confident eyes. Now sure she had his attention, she repeated, "It'll be fine, don't worry." Without releasing her grip, she gently placed their hands on the mattress. "We don't have to do it right away."

At first, this greatly reassured the count. However, the rules were the rules, and he knew that if he didn't touch her tonight, it would do great damage to the Phantomhive name. So he exclaimed "But we can't not do it! It's our duty! Then what will people say?"

"People won't know!" Elizabeth answered.

"People will know! Because they will want to know, and when they look at us they will have understood!"

"A simple look is not enough!"

"Yes, that will be enough! Strangely when the subject is this type of relationship, the greatest of imbeciles finds himself intellectually rivaled with Graham Bell and Darwin combined!"

The Countess gave him a look that said clearly: I very much doubt it. Then continued with this sentence "Aren't you exaggerating a bit too much?"

"Most likely !" he replied fiercely, still upset.

She left her husband a few minutes to catch his breath and calm down. When she noticed that these eyebrows were no longer furrowed, the young woman raised her hand in the direction of her husband's face. She barely touched him for a second, just to draw his eye to her own gaze. "No one will know. I promise you that."

Reassured, however not completely, Astre asked "But, if we don't take this step now, when?"

"When you're near." Elizabeth replied simply.

At this statement the Count let out a dry laugh. "It may take some time."

Smiling at him she declared "I have plenty of time!" "It can last as long as you want. 3, 5 months, if that's what you need."

"35 years." he muttered sarcastically.

"If you need it, no worries." she assured happily.

A slight smile formed on the young man's face. Slowly he approached his wife, then hugged her. And in a low breath said "Thank you."

The number of times he had initiated a hug could be counted on one hand. She realized then that no matter how good acting he might be, right now he wasn't lying. What she had just done was really important to him. So with her eyes slightly wet, she hugged him back.

"You know..." the young woman began in a hesitant voice. "Don't tell anyone, but...I've always found going from barely touching, to bringing our bodies together overnight, to be kind of weird."

Astre released a light laugh "Don't tell anyone, but I've always loved to question everything."

after this statement, her companion laughed and hugged her husband tighter.

-0-

We now return to the present. It is 7:54 a.m., and the Countess awaits the arrival of her friend with the help of an embroidery. In the small living room, the tea is already ready and rests on the coffee table in front of her.

Finally the clock in the room strikes 8 o'clock, ringing in unison with the bells of the nearest church. When they had finished ringing, someone knocked on the door.

"Hall !" Elizabeth said.

The person happened to be Mey-Rin followed by the archaeologist. "Mister James Connor, Madam." announced the maid.

"Ah, Connor! I've been expecting you. Please come in and have a seat." The countess put her work on a small table nearby then looked at it.

At the use of his name, the above-named found himself troubled. Believing that he had inadvertently displeased him, he made himself small and quickly obeyed.

"Serve us Mey-Rin tea." The hostess ordered with a smile. What the servant did in silence.

"Did you sleep well Mr. Connor?" the lady continued.

"Very well." James nodded. However, her next line came out less confidently "Elizabeth...Have I offended you in any way?"

"No why?" she wondered.

"Well... Meaning, suddenly you've gone back to using my name... So-"

But before he could finish the Countess cut him off "Oh, please excuse me! My husband pointed out to me that it was inappropriate to call you by your first name. "I didn't really pay attention to it and found it normal. I reassure you, now I clearly see that we were not in our place. With that I would ask you to do the same by addressing me as Mrs. Phantomhive ."

Once she was done speaking the man with her gave her a forced smile, "Good Mrs. Phantomhive."

They both took a sip of their tea in silence. A slight uneasiness reigned, but Elizabeth had enough skill and delicacy to revive a harmless discussion. So they stayed with each other's company until 9:30.

-0-

For once in a long time, the dining table in the Phantomhive mansion found itself seating more than two people around it. At the end of the latter towered the count with his wife on his right and last night's guest on his left.

The three protagonists of this act had just settled down. Their meals in front of them, the master of the place only had to give the Countess a look for her to understand that he was expecting the introductions.

"Astre, this is Mr. Connor James. He comes to us from the Americas. And we met through Baron Rosemary." the young woman finished happy.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Count. Mrs. Phantomhive has greatly-"

But he didn't have time to finish his sentence when the one he was talking to cut him off, "You'll just call her Madame la Comtesse." Astre said in a disinterested voice. After that, he waited a few seconds to take a sip of his tea, then continued "And the pleasure is all mine of course."

The already heavy air of the room was now ready to be cut with a knife. Elizabeth found herself very annoyed by her husband's unfriendly ways. So not wanting to make matters worse, she preferred to just start eating a toast while trying to make as little noise as possible. As for the one who had just been reprimanded, he just remained motionless, not knowing what to do with himself.

When a few minutes of awkward silence passed, the young woman said, "You can eat Mr. Connor, don't hold back."

"Thank you, Madame la Comtesse. That looks delicious." and he began to attack his boiled egg.

Only, before the guest had time to swallow, the Earl spoke again, "Tell me, Mr. Connor, what do you do for a living?"

James gulped down his bite and replied happily, "You see me happy to announce that I'm an archaeologist and a doctor in my spare time." Following his favorite phrase of presentation, the man found himself sharing a discreet laugh with the hostess.

Astre also chuckled before declaring, "So you must be a full-time doctor right now."

At this last sentence, his wife gave him a disapproving look. His new friend was certainly not from the same society, but he did not deserve to be mocked for all that.

Still, the young man ignored his companion's murderous eyes, then asked "Do you like hunting?"

The guest sat up and replied, "Enough, Monsieur le Comte."

"Good. That's something we have in common. Unfortunately, the animals are in their hibernation right now. How about replacing them with wooden targets and having a little fun."

"That would be with great pleasure, Monsieur le Comte." he agreed with little assurance.

"Well, let's go now then." The master of the house was about to get up, but was quickly caught by his wife's hand on his wrist.

With a cold look and a smile on her lips informed, "You haven't finished eating."

Star might love danger and competition, but he wasn't crazy enough to disobey his wife when she ordered something.

-x-

That will be all for this time. Thanks for reading and until next time. biz biz.

9

-x-

The shrunken iris on the center ring of its target twenty yards away; Count Phantomhive gasped just before pulling the trigger on his rifle.

The loud sound of detonation echoed through the cold winter air, and the smoke from the cannon mingled with the morning mist.

Finny, placed not far from the targets, advanced towards that of his master. He looked where the bullet had pierced, then cheerfully shouted "Right in the center, my lord!"

When the result was announced, Elizabeth applauded loudly. And accompanied by a smile of complacency the archaeologist spoke "Well, Monsieur le Comte, you only seem to know how to reach one point."

Astre decided to feign friendliness "You flatter me too much." lowering his weapon he continued "You're not bad either. You've always hit the mark so far." then with a graceful wave of the hand, made the guest understand that it was his turn to take aim.

James got into place. The concentrated eye he was about to fire. This time he was sure to hit the heart. But at the last moment his attention was diverted by an unpleasant murmur.

"Although not once did you manage to get past the second ring."

Annoyed by this comment, his hand slipped and he missed the target by barely two mini-metres. He kept the curse hanging from his lips to himself, and chose instead to breathe so he could display a serene and good-natured face in front of his hosts. "I guess that takes a good number of points off my score."

"In effect." nodded the account "Do you want to stop? We've been out for a while and your clothes are far less suitable than those of my wife and myself, I don't want you to catch a cold."

Without even batting an eye, Connor replied proudly, "Your concern touches me, Earl. But it is not required. I am a sturdy person." then displaying a false concern on his face he followed "Just maybe you feel fragile? During the many conversations I had with the Countess, she told me about your delicate physical condition. Do not hesitate to tell us about it. share. I would not want the husband of one of my dearest friend to become ill."

At the end of his words, the two men looked at each other intently. Their facial expressions showed no change from their usual characters, but their eyes burned with defiance.

Yet Elizabeth didn't notice. Her mind had remained anchored on the possibility that her spouse might not be feeling well right now.

Thus approaching her husband, she slipped from his shoulders the fur scarf that adorned her neck and placed it carefully around the earl's throat.

At this action, the master of the place was forced to leave the internal battle he was having with the archaeologist. Being mothered in front of the enemy made him blush with shame and stutter. "I don't need it, Elizabeth." Astre tried to remove the feminine stole, but he was unsuccessful in front of his wife.

With a worried look she continued to hand him the fur properly "But Mr. Connor is right!" her cheeks dusting with pink the young lady continued softly "You were so beautiful with your gaze focused on your target. I forgot the time and your health... Mother would probably be mad if she saw what a terrible wife I make. "

The count's face flared up even more at the sound of his words. This made him stop all objections, but especially all coherent thoughts.

Avoiding her husband's eyes, she turned to their servants, "Finny! Go make a fire in the parlor and come back to put away the targets later. Snake, take the rifles. Sebastian, make us some tea. Some Darjeeling would be exquisite. "

Orders given, Elizabeth took off her skirts and began to walk towards the gates of the mansion. James followed her, and passing in front of the master of the place he displayed a mocking look at her unmanly behavior.

Noting the taunts directed towards him Astre growled. He threw his gun violently into Snake's arms. Then, shoving the scarf that had sunk back from its original position, he strode aggressively towards his abode.

Now all back, they gave their coats, hats and gloves to Mey-rin and Sebastian. The two nice men were waiting for Madame Phantomhive to take the first step towards their destination. Only, the lady said, "I beg you to go to the small living room without me. I will join you there later."

"Good, we'll be waiting for you." replied her husband flatly before setting off on a determined walk.

The archaeologist politely greeted the hostess, then followed the count.

The latter sat down on one of the armchairs in front of the roaring fireplace. He snapped his fingers and his butler handed him his cigars. The man in black humbly turned him on and withdrew.

James settled down on one of the small sofas. Uncomfortable, he first looked at the flames that were warming the room. Then, although he knew these walls by heart, he admired the tapestry, the ceiling and then the chandelier. Finally his gaze went to the person who was keeping him company. Thus, he noticed with a start that his host was staring at him.

The American cleared his throat and attempted a discussion "Well, Monsieur le Comte... what skill you have with arms! Where did you learn to aim so well?"

"In my garden."

"Oh... And who taught you?"

"My aunt and a dog." Astre responded by spitting out the smoke from her cigar.

The archaeologist laughed embarrassed. He rubbed his hands absentmindedly then tried again to start a conversation "I am surprised to see that Madame la Comtesse does not like to handle firearms! Seeing her genius at fencing, I told myself that all the arts are close combat had to be his cup of tea."

"And I'm surprised she hasn't told you all about our lives yet."

Laughing slightly he replied "I think that despite Madame la Comtesse's penchant for stories, there is still a lot she hasn't told me." James allowed himself to look at the earl's hidden eye "For example, she never informed me of that wound which you seem to want to hide." not seeing a change in the expression of the man in front of him, swallowing he asked "How did this happen to you?"

Astre drew on his cigar and with a smirk he replied "A demon offered it to me in exchange for temporary freedom after I got captured by a cult."

A heavy silence reigned for ten seconds before the guest laughed. "Madame la comtesse warned me of your humor. I admit that for a few minutes you scared me."

Seeing her reaction, the Count laughs lightly. But for any other reason...

The archaeologist, thinking he had finally put himself on his host's good side, approached the edge of the sofa and began to speak softly, "Monsieur le comte. I understand that you do not carry me in your heart." At that remark, Astre gave him a sarcastic surprised look but said nothing. "And without wanting to sound pretentious, I also think I know the reason for your dislike of me." he paused then continued "This is how I come to you, to reassure you that I harbor no feelings towards Madame la Comtesse." he ends his speech with a charming smile, thinking he has removed himself from the list of enemies of the Queen's watchdog.

But his smile faded to the mocking laughter of the nobleman. "Your feelings..." sneered the Count, he inhaled the smoke of his cigar again. "It's up to me to reassure you. I know the difference between feeling and desire." Astre crushed the remains of her drug in the ashtray lying beside her. "Everyone compares you to an angel, but I don't forget where the demons come from." He sat up "And last thing, you will never need to reassure me because I do not fear you. I do not fear you because you are nothing compared to me. You may be charming, I have a title, land, company, and the queen's trust. You have stories of adventure, I have just as many. You are good with arms, I am better. You are learned, I am an intellectual. You study history, I create it... And yet if with all this, let's imagine that you manage to surpass me. Elizabeth wouldn't let you even dream of lusting after her... She loves me. And even if I can't return her attention, she's a passionate woman who will never leave me. My aunt raised her to serve Count Phantomhive. Elizabeth, will never betray me because the mere thought of doing so would drive her into a slow agony for which she would apologize on her knees crying at my feet." is a passionate woman who will never leave me. My aunt raised her to serve Count Phantomhive. Elizabeth, will never betray me because the mere thought of doing so would drive her into a slow agony for which she would apologize on her knees crying at my feet." is a passionate woman who will never leave me. My aunt raised her to serve Count Phantomhive. Elizabeth, will never betray me because the mere thought of doing so would drive her into a slow agony for which she would apologize on her knees crying at my feet."

James could not describe his feelings after this tirade; he was stunned, offended, offended. And when he finally recovered from his shock, he was stopped by the arrival of the Countess. She had just changed into a navy blue dress with gold embroidery. Etiquette required nice men to get up when a lady came in, so they respected it. Although the master of the place did it with much less enthusiasm.

The two men waited for the lady to take a seat, then settled down again.

The archaeologist decided to act as if nothing had happened for the moment, and told her friend happily "Nice to see you again Madame la comtesse, it's been so long."

Elizabeth chuckled at his dash of humor "Yeah, I was wondering if we'd ever see each other again."

Mey-rin returned with a tray of tea, efficiently served those present, then stepped back.

The presence of the noble young woman somewhat appeased the American's anger. Knowing he couldn't do anything about his emotions right now, he continued the conversation. "I see that you had gone to change your toilet. This one suits you very well, but why this change? The one you wore before complimented you just as much."

Sebastian crept noiselessly near his master to deliver two letters, and left when the latter ordered him with a dismissive gesture of the head.

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed at the compliment. Smiling she answered "Thank you Mr. Connor. You flatter me too much... The reason is very simple, I reassure you." she paused for a moment, then slightly embarrassed she followed "It's just that the fresh grass had wet the bottom of my skirts."

"Oh please excuse me! My question must have seemed indelicate to you." James hastened to reply.

"No, everything is fine, I assure you." she laughed

Without looking up from her courier Astre commented "Is it fashionable to be reassured at the moment?"

The Countess rolled her eyes but her smile did not leave her. However, now that she was looking at her husband she saw the letter he was reading. Gently tilting her head she asked "Who is it?"

"Just a business partner." he stood up and handed the second letter to his wife. "Here, I haven't opened it yet. It's addressed to our house, but knowing that it's from the Venrino I doubt it's for me."

Elizabeth picked up the mail, and with an apologetic smile towards her guest she opened the message and then began to read it.

Astre was installed on the armrest of the chair where his wife was sitting. His face directed to the letter but his piercing eye to the other man in the room. The archaeologist returned his gaze, and the two males didn't break it until the young woman accompanying them spoke.

"Oh, Astre! Mr. Venrino is finally feeling better! Isn't it wonderful! To celebrate his recovery Mrs. Venrino is throwing a ball." The Countess looked up at her husband "Oh, we really should go. Mr. Venrino has always been so nice to me. I can't wait to see him back in great shape!"

"Mister Venrino and kind to all women." murmured the count.

To rebuke him for insinuating that comment she lightly patted his arm. However, that didn't stop her from letting out a small laugh.

Wanting not to be forgotten, James interposed "And who is this nice man?"

"Oh, he is a very good friend. He has no title, but it is known in our world by his mines and shares in certain train companies." clarified Elizabeth.

"He's an old Italian on death's door, whose wife I suspect wants to finish him off with this upcoming evening."

The American laughs "Well, so you'll have a good evening."

"Without me, I'm afraid." informed the master of the place. He got up and started to leave.

"Oh why?" asked his wife sadly.

"Too much work, and I actually have to go back. My last trip slowed down and moved a lot of my stuff. Only it would be inappropriate to show you alone." Looking at James with a fake smile, he continued "Go with Mister Connor and one of the Rosemary sisters. Or take the whole family! Just give the Venrino one of your beautiful smiles and you can come home with an elephant if you want it. wish. It's quite rude but at least you'll be sure to have good company." Astre greeted his wife's friend curtly, "With that, I'll leave you. You can stay until Madame Phantomhive gets tired of you." then he left the living room.

Elizabeth sighed at his behavior, before turning embarrassed to the archaeologist. "I assure you he was not trying to offend you."

"How offended when I accompany you to a ball where there will probably be champagne." James laughed.

-0-

In his office the count called "Sebastian, a cushion."

The butler complied, and handed a small red velvet cushion to his master.

Star took it normally, just before burying her head in it and screaming.

The demon watched him unblinkingly and once he was done asked "What troubles your mind, my lord?"

The young man turned his gaze to Sebastian, and in an unmeasured voice huffed, "What's troubling my mind? What's troubling my mind!"

"Indeed that was my question, my lord."

The Count threw the cushion aggressively at Sebastian. "Oh, I don't know. Just maybe the fact that I just told the Apollon downstairs that he could take my wife to a party for me!"

Dusting off the projectile, the butler continued "Why did you tell him, if you don't mind?"

"Because I wanted to show him that I wasn't afraid of him and his relationship with Elizabeth."

"And you are afraid of it?"

Astre stared at the man in front of him "Give me that pillow."

And once again the demon complied. Only the cushion was quickly returned to him, his master trying once more to hit him with it.

-X-

Finiiiiiiiiiish!

sorry for the delay. As always, thank you for being there and supporting me. Your comments really make me happy.

See you next time!

10

-x-

Night had fallen for several hours over England. Count Phantomhive had not left his office since he had left Elizabeth in the presence of the archaeologist. Of course Sebastian had brought him all his meals. The Countess understood that her husband wanted to get rid of all distractions to catch up on his work, but she watched that he did not faint from starvation.

Finally, after yet another signing for the Fantom company, he decided to quit his job. Dark circles decorating her face Astre was heading towards her quarters. On the way, he took advantage of his walk to take off his frock coat and undo his tie. Then once in front of his room, thinking that his wife was sleeping, the young man turned the doorknob as gently as possible. The space created by pushing the door, allowed him to see that the bedside lamps were still on. The countess having the habit of sleeping in the dark, he deduces that she was awake. So he entered with ease. Only he stopped in his tracks when he saw that Elizabeth, installed with a book on their bed, was in the process of this meal of chocolate.

Seeing her husband looking at her with an annoyed air, the young woman slowly took the candy away from her mouth, took the box of candy lying on the sheets and handed him "Do you want some?"

The Count sighed, rolled his eyes, then turned away from his wife, closing the door. He walked into the relatively dark room, then walked over to a couch. He threw his frock coat on it before plunging down heavily himself.

For a few seconds silence reigned. Slightly embarrassed, Mrs. Phantomhive delicately closed the chocolate box and put it in the drawer of her bedside table. She dusted the bedding, then not knowing what to do, she folded her hands on the soft sheets. "Do you want me to call Sebastian?"

His head thrown back and his eyes closed he said flatly "No."

"Do you need my help?"

Without moving and with a smirk he retorted "Do you want to undress me?"

Blushing slightly, Elizabeth replied shyly, "Well...if that's what you want..."

Not expecting such a reaction, Astre immediately looked up at the Countess. "I was joking."

The young woman's face flared with shame. Embarrassed, she found herself forced to turn away from her husband.

The host cleared his throat, "That wasn't one of my best teases, I agree. I'm sorry... It's just... you know... During my trip with Sullivan, she must have passed her bad humor on to me." he ends with an embarrassed laugh and a strong blush in his cheeks

"Yes, probably." She nodded without knowing what he had said, so preoccupied with what she thought she had understood was drowning her.

The Earl tried again to clear the discomfort from his throat then stood up, "Fine...I'll change." and he rushed into his dressing room.

Once alone, Elizabeth glanced over to where her husband had gone, before dropping heavily onto the mattress, then burying her face in her pillow and moaning. She felt so embarrassed right now. The young woman knew that she had committed no sin. After all, they were married. This kind of occurrence should be normal. Only knowing the deep distaste that Astre had for relationships with a carnal touch... She couldn't help but think that she had been foolish to ask for help.

The Countess continued to mope until she heard the closet door click. Hastily she sat up and picked up the cup resting on her bedside table. Although her cheeks were still flushed with pink, she gave her husband a look accompanied by a smile.

The master of the place comes to settle next to his wife. He himself remained seated in the covers, still embarrassed by the previous incident. Seeing that his wife was drinking something, he had the reflex to turn around to look for his own cup. But of course, unsurprisingly there was nothing resting on his bedside table.

Elizabeth noticing it asked "Do you want me to have one ordered?"

Recovering properly he replied "No. No it's not worth it." a somewhat heavy silence ensues. Astre was concentrating on the cover of the sheet and giving her companion a glance from time to time. Then by dint of going back and forth between him and her, he noticed that the book that his wife read rather was between him. So, clearing his throat for the umpteenth time that night, he tried to lighten the tune "What were you reading?"

"Oh, just a collection of poetry. At first I tried to read Tess d'Uberville again, but there's nothing I can do. I find it absolutely repulsive. I can't persuade myself to read it all the way through ."

A smile appeared on the count's face. "I already told you that you didn't have to read it."

"Yes, but when I have tea with some of my friends; authors such as Mr. Hardy are always discussed. I'm tired of being considered illiterate in their eyes; especially since my behavior reflects yours. I don't want to not harm you." she declared boldly.

"Yet your friends must hate this author, right? This isn't really women's reading."

"Of course they despise him! Well not all of them."

"Then why make it the subject of your conversations?"

With a smirk Elizabeth turned to him, "Well, it's a change for us from criticizing our husbands. And it also saves us from tarnishing your reputations by saying more than you should."

Star gave him the same look "In that case, all the nice men in England are eternally grateful to you for reading bad literature."

She laughed lightly at his remark then continued to sip the contents of her cup.

Glad to see her laughing at his care; the Count said to himself that, despite his fatigue, it would not be disagreeable to continue talking a little longer. "What are you drinking?"

The corners of her lips still pointing upwards, the young woman replied cheerfully, "Some leftover warm honey milk I made with Mr. Connor."

The owner's eyes darkened. All the happiness he had just accumulated, with this simple sentence, evaporated. "Oh...lovely."

The Countess noticed her husband's rigid, brutal look. She had suspicions that the sudden appearance of James had upset her. However, not wanting him to go to bed like this; this time it was his turn to try to fuel their conversation. "I think it's greatly improved. Soon I'll use it again. You'll see, it will even be better than Tanaka's or Sebastian's... By the way-"

"Mmh. Great. Now excuse me, I'm tired." Star cut her off roughly. After that, he lay down aggressively with his back to her, then pulled the blanket up to his cheeks. "Good night."

Elizabeth saw herself getting worried. She knew that thus, her husband could not fall asleep. Plus, she hated going to bed when their minds were on.

As her approach to changing the subject had been suppressed, the young woman told herself to tackle the problem directly. But would going directly to the wound be effective? Wouldn't he close in on himself even more? Maybe she could get him to divulge her worries indirectly? Therefore, she decided that it would be more delicate to talk about something related very slightly to her friend.

The Countess half stretched out, and remained leaning on her left arm. Her eyes were on the one she loved "I remember you weren't in favor of me making your drink for you first. If it's really unbearable for you, I can refrain from serving you. ."

Without turning to her, the Count gave a short, dry laugh. "Excellent that will do more for Mister Connor."

She clearly wasn't expecting him to grab the hook so quickly. It wasn't Astre's habit not to analyze all the possible meanings of a sentence. However, disregarding the fact that this was supposed to be a serious conversation. Elizabeth couldn't help laughing at her husband's reaction.

Annoyed that she dares to make fun of him, the young man turned his gaze to her "What?" he proclaimed dryly. He wanted to be severe, unfortunately this did not work. His wife fell on her back and continued to laugh even harder. This action also offended him. He then removed the sheets that were obstructing his vision and sat down "I said; What?"

The countess tried to calm herself by putting her hands above her lips. Then between gasps managed to say "It's just... I didn't imagine you being so cute when you were jealous."

Mouth gaping and cheeks flushed, Astre was offended "I'm definitely not jealous!"

This protest accompanied by his expression, again led the young woman into a fit of giggles. Fists clenched and his face flushed, the Count waited a few seconds for her to calm down.

According to him, the time was long, but he is coming. So when Elizabeth had stopped laughing, and she finally looked away at him, he spoke. Well, that's what he had planned. However when he saw her dazzling smile and her eyes shining with love towards him, he had nothing more to say. Nevertheless, his pride refused that he didn't answer anything. Yet that did not help him. Instead of just shutting up, it made him stutter for a good 30 seconds. And as Astre noticed that his behavior started a new glow in his wife. He preferred to bury himself in his blankets, his face seething with embarrassment.

But again, his wife's giggles only got louder. Really not having the courage to look at her again, the count took his pillow and buried himself under it. Such an action made him more deaf, but did not dampen the countess's laughter, far from it.

Being in such a good mood put Elizabeth in a playful mood. Stopping laughing momentarily, she managed to slip her head under her husband's pillow. "My dear husband, do I have the right to a place in your new home?"

Firmly, he blocked the entrance where she had managed to sneak in, thus ejecting her from her improvised "hiding place". Then his voice muffled by his cushion, he added, "I don't know any wife like you. To make fun of a man like me, you must be a lady of very low birth."

Knowing that he thought nothing of what he had just said. The young woman took her own pillow, placed herself as close as possible to the one she loved, and buried herself under his cushion as well. Then lifting the left side of the latter, she said "So my lord, do you allow me to invite you to my humble cottage? I would not want to stay angry with a person as cute as you. I believe I will die ."

"Well, die of it."

Pretending to be offended, Elizabeth exclaimed "But come on my lord! I have prepared the most delicious dishes for you, accompanied by the most exquisite wines. I have even made bouquets of flowers to perfume my modest house of a perfume that suits you."

His previous shame beginning to pass. The Count rolled his eyes, then shrugged the right side of his pillow. Astre, her cheeks not having left their red color, looked at her with a jaded air. But seeing that she was still wearing her dazzling smile, he sighed, left his cushion, and just got closer to his wife.

Very happy, the Countess shifted slightly, then gently put the pillow on their two heads. "So my lord? What do you think?"

"I see no flowers, wine, or food."

"Oh, I might have lied to you a little bit."

"Mmf. Poor and liar. I'm surprised you're still alive."

"Forgive me my lord. I beg you!"

The young man rolled his eyes once more.

This caused his lady to snicker, "Please. I'll do anything! I've been told you don't have a wife. I'd be happy to take this place if it would help you."

Flatly he answered "Ah, but it's not that I don't have a companion. It's that she left us. And I was eternally faithful to her even in death. So understand that I can't accept your query."

Faking sadness she continued "All my condolences my lord. May I ask you what happened to make your dear one disappear on the other side?"

Astre took some time to retort "It was a tragic incident believe me. On a night like this, she goes crazy. She began to accuse me about something I would never have felt, then suddenly laughed out loud. Unable to stop laughing, she gasped. And just like that, the shroud covered her body."

"Here's a very sad end for a person who seemed so charming. I almost feel like I see myself in her."

Then softly, for the first time as the Earl's gaze alternated between Elizabeth's eyes and lips, he whispered as low as possible, "Yes, you look a lot like her."

She didn't know why, but her breath was taken away. For a moment there was nothing around them. Their senses were always present. But they were so focused on each other that they could barely make out the light from the bedside lamp.

Then Astre's eyes suddenly veiled in horror, he quickly moved away from his body as if he had been burned.

A slightly sad look covering his face he said without looking at her "I am extremely tired. I would like to rest." And resting his head on his pillow, he settled his back towards his wife to sleep.

With the same look decorating her eyes she said "Yes. I understand." afterwards she leaned over her bedside table, turned off the light, then went to bed. "Good night." she sighed.

-x-

Hey! That's all for today. Thanks for reading and supporting me. It really makes me happy.

BONUS TIP: Everyone don't know this, but I wanted to share it. ATT: spoiler for Tess d'Uberville

-Actually, Elizabeth has never continued Tess d'Uberville after the main character was raped. The first time she read it she couldn't read after the horse died. Then now she has trouble reading it as soon as Alec appears as she can't bear it.

-OCiel doesn't support this book either. Although he finds it well written in his prose, he finds it poorly written in his story. The fact that Angel resents Tess because she's no longer a virgin BECAUSE SHE GOT RAPED was absolutely revolting to him (I think you can imagine why.)

-It doesn't support Hardy also. Besides his "bad literature", he does not agree with his ideas. Thomas Hardy thinks that human beings are moving too far away from nature with the new machines. But we know that OCiel is a man of his time and that he is one of those who thinks that technology is the future. Moreover he finds it hypocritical of a man who believes little in god. Because the "returns to nature" at that time were people who thought they were going too far from what god expected. OCiel therefore does not see the logic in this man. (Also, it's not that he doesn't believe that god exists. It's just that he thinks he can't do anything, and therefore doesn't have faith in him. I think for someone '

11

-x-

The next day, everything was normal. James had left in the morning, greeted on the porch by Elizabeth. From the window of his study, the count had admired him leaving with a smug look; only too happy to know that this parasite was no longer in his home.

The day started well for Astre, he was in a good mood most of the time. However, the countess now without company, it took her a while before she could escape from the boredom. She first walked for a long time in the gardens, then later began to embroider. The young woman would have liked to go see her birds, only they were in full hibernation. So out of the question to come and disturb them.

Over time, Elizabeth heard the door bell ringing several times. She knew that they were people who had come to see her husband exclusively. Then, her husband having formally forbidden her to approach the men with whom he was doing business, the Countess did not even take a step towards them to welcome them. However, curious in nature; she couldn't help getting up slowly from her place, slightly opening the door leading to the entrance hall and watching the people entering her home. Sometimes the guests turned to her, but the young woman was quick enough to hide it.

Then during an umpteenth ringing of the bell, when Elizabeth approached to spy, this time she recognized the person entering. Seeing a familiar face a big smile vain him. She left the small living room without shame or fear, then called her "Madame Eloie! How happy I am to see you."

The old woman in question turned to the voice that had called her and humbly greeted her, "Hello Madam Countess. The pleasure is mine of course."

"Why this sudden visit?" asked the hostess.

"Monsieur le comte having been on a business trip for a long time, I come to welcome him on his return. I also come to fulfill my duty towards the orphan who is on Phantomhive land, by coming to give the report of these three months.

The hostess replied cheerfully, "Oh I see." not knowing what to say so that her friend would not leave her right away, she looked around a little embarrassed. Then resumed with great naturalness, "How about waiting with me in the small lounge? The main lounge is already overflowing with numbers of businessmen. I am convinced that you will be more serene in a less public place. "

"It will be with pleasure, Madame la comtesse."

Then, with a graceful movement of the hand, the young woman opened the way to the guest. She leads her to the warmth near the fireplace, and encourages Madame Eloie to sit down comfortably on the sofa in front of her.

Mey-Rin had brought an extra cup of tea, as well as some cookies.

The headmistress of the orphanage enjoyed the tea but looked askance at the side dishes. Elizabeth remarked, "Aren't the cakes to your liking?"

"Far from it. I don't have a palate as refined as yours. I wouldn't be able to judge what you have the kindness to offer me." the lady paused then resumed, "Only, I don't think it's a time for sweets."

Suddenly the Countess had a wave of shame running through her body. She did not want to pass for a spoiled woman who indulges in the sin of gluttony. Looking embarrassed at her maid, she ordered in an uneven voice, "Get that out."

However Madame Eloie stopped her in her usual neutral tone, "No, please. You need to eat. You still have the body of a young lady, Countess. If you want to welcome a child, you need the body. a woman's." then she took a sip of her tea.

The cheeks of the young woman and her servant turned as red as berries. So without even a second look, Mey-Rin hurried away despite the distress signals sent to her by her mistress. She knew she would get scolded by her lady and tweaked by Sebastian later; but it was out of the question for her to hear this more than embarrassing discussion.

Elizabeth now alone in this uncomfortable dialogue, forced a smile and sipped her drink.

"I also advise you to do so as soon as possible. As we all know, Monsieur le Comte is extremely busy with his work."

The hostess cut her off with a fake laugh, and tried to change the subject of the conversation "You're right. I think that if our parents hadn't engaged us when we were born, Astre would have married her job instead of me!"

But the director of the orphanage did not take the hook. She offered him a stiff smile, then continued "As I was saying: the count is extremely busy with his work. We don't know when he will be back on the road already. Moreover, winter is one of the best seasons for making clothes. So the child will be born in late summer or early fall. That's almost perfect weather for an infant."

Her face on fire, the Countess nodded at the advice. Then wanting at all costs to avoid the subject to drag on, she tried to stop the concerns of her invitee. "Let me reassure you, we indulge in it at least once a month." unfortunately the knowledge of the young woman is very limited when marital duties are mentioned.

Then at this statement Madame Eloie widened her eyes. "Only?"

Seeing that she hadn't improved anything, Elizabeth moaned inwardly, and began to stutter "Well as you said earlier, I have a very busy husband. And his business takes all his energy. So he's busy. to sleep and eat to recuperate. And therefore can't take care of me..."

Noticing the panicked state of her host, the old woman put down her cup of tea. "Indeed, all of this is very concerning." she got up, and vain to sit down beside the mistress of the place. "Calm down my dear. It's nothing serious. It's amazing at your age that you don't practice more than that. But as you have demonstrated, I think all this trouble comes from bad organization. " she paused momentarily to take the plate of biscuit and hold it out to the Countess. The latter relaxed at the maternal behavior and took a cake. "Good. You yourself have stated the main problems that embarrass your life as a couple. So let's see if we can improve this. But let's start with the basics first.

"Protect the loved one at the risk of his life!" replied Lizzy quickly.

A dry laugh escaped Madame Eloie's mouth. For the uninformed, this might seem harsh. But in truth it was just his normal laugh. "I recognize the words of the Marquise Midford your mother there. But no, that's not it."

"Oh..."

“The golden rule is: A good mistress of the house must be able to serve her husband without ever upsetting him. If some people think it's normal for a man to go to brothels, let me tell you, it's absolutely disgusting. her husband to deviate from the right path."

Slightly puzzled, Elizabeth asked, "But what if he never wants anything? That when you see him overworked, pale, weakened, you try to help him; yet he doesn't want your help and pushes you away?"

"So it's not that he doesn't want anything, it's that he doesn't trust you. And that means you are the cause of your husband's misfortunes."

Suddenly Sebastian entered the room "Monsieur le Comte is ready to receive you Madame Eloie." he momentarily glanced at his master's wife, sensing her troubled mind. Only he did nothing for the moment.

The director of the orphanage nodded to the butler, stood up, then made a curtsey "It was a pleasure to share this moment with you Madame la Comtesse. Looking forward to seeing you again." And so the young woman found herself alone in her thoughts.

She! The reason for Astre's misfortunes! The Countess could not make up her mind to it. It was not possible. The one she loved would be in this state of exhaustion by her fault?

A whirlwind of grief swept through her and Elizabeth began to cry bitterly. She tried to drown out the sound of her sobs with her hands, however if you were standing in the hallway right now you would clearly hear the sound of her wailing.

Gasping for the air she had lost, it gave the young woman a few seconds to think.

She takes it too seriously. After all it is only a hypothesis! Madame Eloie is an extraordinary person but she does not hold the absolute truth. She should probably check with her mother.

Only the Countess didn't have the energy to warn of her arrival at Midford Manor, nor the patience for a journey to her answers. She decided it would be quicker to call her mother on the phone. The marquise is not fond of new technologies and will find it impolite on her part. But his daughter is sure that just this once, she will excuse him.

Therefore, Elizabeth pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, gently wiped away her tears, then in contradiction to her conscience screaming at her to calm down, she rushed to the main living room, where the phone was staying.

She opened the double doors abruptly. Then his breathing, which had been erratic until then, stopped instantly. The young woman had just made a huge mistake.

In front of her was a dozen men with eyes just as surprised as her.

None of the guests in the room expected to see a woman arrive in place of the butler of the house. Then for a minute silence reigned between the actors of this scene.

Then suddenly remembering English etiquette, the gentlemen all began to move at the same time. Those who had been seated up to that point rose promptly; those smoking quickly extinguished their cigars, and one of them had the idea of ​​opening a window to clear the smoke.

Feeling horribly stupid for her clumsiness, Elizabeth didn't move an eyelid until one of the men spoke to her. "Good day Mrs..."

"Phantomhive. I am the Countess Phantomhive." she replied embarrassed.

Their attitudes stiff with surprise become stiff with fear. Another guest spoke "It is an immense honour, what shall I say, privilege, to finally meet you, Madame la Comtesse." and not wanting to lose face in front of the queen's watchdog's wife, they all began to salute her hyperbolically.

The young woman did not know what to do. Astre was going to be furious with her. The mere thought made him want to mope again. Only she could not display such a face in front of her husband's business partners. Then she took a deep breath and said "Please excuse me for this sudden appearance. It was very rude of me. Lost in my thoughts I no longer paid attention to my surroundings. I beg you once again to please me. to forgive."

"I'm sorry Madame la comtesse. You don't have to apologize, it's your home." one of the men said.

"Yes, don't worry. If you had urgent business in this salon, we would be happy to release it immediately!" picked up another person.

Elizabeth gave them a forced smile "It's not worth it. I just needed the phone." her voice cracked slightly, and the tears welled up. She was ashamed. "But I will wait." wanting to leave as quickly as possible, she turned away, but a guest grabbed her hand.

"I apologize for detaining you, only the affliction which covers your face has I think escaped none of us. And it would be inconceivable that as good men of England we should leave you leave without asking yourself what overwhelms you."

Tears welling up in her eyes she whispered, "Thank you, but it's not worth it." only the young woman has always worn her heart on her sleeve. And soon, waves flowed along her cheeks.

The distraught guests did not know what to do to help the Countess. They moved away from the couch and chair to let her sit where she wanted. Elizabeth didn't give it too much thought and sat on the nearest daybed. An old man offered her his handkerchief. And they waited embarrassed for her crying to calm down.

After more than half an hour of sobbing, the Countess' breathing adjusted. Her eyes were red, but at least the salt water didn't flow from them anymore.

Looking around, the young woman stammered, "I'm terribly confused to have bothered you about me."

A chubby figure addressed her "Don't worry Madame la Comtesse. We are the ones who are sorry for not being able to help you better than that." he presented her with a beautiful navy blue box then opened it "Perhaps a treat will put a smile on your face?"

Elizabeth gazed happily at the contents of the box as she saw the jellies "How kind of you." his eyes went to the man "Could you tell me the scents?"

"Of course! I am proud to present to you the new flavors of Phantom Confectionery. This is our deluxe arrangement for palates clamoring for the exotic. The first row is mango; the second banana; the third, well that a classic remains exotic, is orange; then finally the last row is pineapple."

The young woman listened diligently and was amazed by the last fruit. "A pineapple you say! Oh that must be extremely expensive?"

"Well, I have to tell you Madam that the cost of preparing it is high. But your husband's marketing plan is absolutely unstoppable, so we weren't creating anything."

Elizabeth smiled at the eulogy to her husband, then looking back at the box she picked up one of the candies. Holding their breaths the guests waited for his verdict. She turned to them with a big smile "It's exquisite. You will tell your bosses that they have done a remarkable job."

"I will communicate with them with pleasure."

The atmosphere that was softened becomes in an instant icy. Blocking the way to a possible escape, in the middle of the frame of the double doors, it was the count Phantomhive looking at them all with a cold eye. The eyes all directed towards the countess in the screen, were now covered with a veil of fear, admiring the erect figure of the watchdog of the queen.

Elizabeth stood up sharply "Astre! I-"

But she didn't have time to start her sentence when the master of the place cut her off in a neutral tone, "In my office. Now."

With a worried air the young woman complied, and left as quickly as she could.

Once she was out of earshot, the Count gave them a fake smile, "It won't take long. Thank you for your patience." Then he turned to join his wife.

Only, the young man remained with his arms behind his back throughout this single minute. And it was when he left that the guests understood why. It wasn't to impose his presence and show his confidence, but to hide the weapon that would have pierced their heads if they had been reckless.

-x-

hey yo bitches what's up?

I finished this chapter but I can't wait for you to see the sequel. It's going to be awesome!

as usual dsl for the mistakes. and no I don't know when I will publish the next chapter. I am as unpredictable as confinement.

I hope you enjoyed it. See you next time.

12

-x-

Elizabeth had just walked into her husband's office. She was going to sit down, but the Count came back at a brisk pace and rushed towards her. The young woman concerned, seeing the look of her husband, was about to apologize. But once again he cut her off. Astre grabbed her chin abruptly then forced her to open her mouth.

"Breath." he demanded.

Too disturbed to see what was happening, she obeyed him.

"It doesn't look poisonous to me." the young man declared. "Sebastien!"

The butler understood what was wanted of him, and repeated his master's gestures but with more delicacy. "No poison, my lord." then he gently let go of the countess's face.

"Good. Leave!" Star ordered the demon with a dismissive shake of her head.

When the Phantomhive couple was finally alone, accompanied by a sigh of relief the Earl collapsed in his chair.

Elizabeth didn't understand what was going on. Did we try to poison him? She thought about it for a moment. But she really doesn't think intoxicating him in the grounds of her mansion in the middle of the day is an idea that ever crossed anyone's mind. It would be an attempt from a very low brain.

The young woman turned her gaze back to the count. He stared at her with one eye covered in rage. The Countess gulped in anticipation of the coming storm.

"I told you not to talk to them." He began without raising his voice.

"I know...I just forgot..."

"Forgot? Forgot what? That over a hundred Men want me dead, and some are probably among them!"

"No! I forgot they were here today."

"How? How could you forget! The servants walk from one room to another to let them know if they are received or not! The bell rings nonstop! They smoke so much that as you pass in front of the living room you can even smoke!"

"You exaggerate." murmured the Countess.

At this remark, the young man got up quickly, banging his palms against his desk "I'm exaggerating! You could have been poisoned!"

"Oh please! Who would try to kill me so obviously with so many witnesses around!"

"Are you stupid! Think a little! The poison is not necessarily intended for you! And above all, know that the one who gives you death is often never the one who wants it. We would have used his proximity to me, how we can use your naivety!"

She scowled at him, "Well, I'm sorry!"

"You don't really look like it."

"Oh forgive me, My lord my husband the Phantomhive account. I'm afraid I'm far too silly and naive to know what an apology worthy of your person looks like." then Elizabeth reinforced her words with an extremely exaggerated bow.

Astre laughed dryly and followed "What's going on, my wife the Countess Phantomhive? You seem to forget everything! Is it the embroidery activity or simply doing nothing that would have been too exhausting and complicated for you? ?"

"Don't worry. I master his two occupations with skill. Only I wouldn't say the same for you!"

"Oh! Would you rather we lived on the streets? So we could both bask on a piece of battered linen in the rain and freezing wind!"

"Don't make me say what I didn't say!"

"Yet, if I'm not mistaken, you still reproached me for working!"

"I don't blame you for working! I blame you for not resting! But I can't blame you because I know it's my fault!" before she noticed it the tears were back. The young woman was red with anger, grief and shame. Not wanting to humble herself any longer with the one she loved, she grabbed her skirts and ran to their room.

At the appearance of Elizabeth's tears, the earl's heart grew heavy. Then when he heard that she blamed herself for her actions, confusion gripped him. He always made sure his actions didn't lead to her. So why was she crying?

He's not as fast as her, but he hunted after his wife all the same. Astre called her first name several times, however she didn't even deny turning around.

The Countess slammed the door behind her, then locked it. Shortly after her husband arrived, and unable to force his way in, he drummed on the wood that separated them. "Open the Elizabeth door." no "please" response. still nothing "I'm not mad at you anymore."

Hearing no reaction, he took a minute to catch his breath and remember his wife's words.

Then he calmly started again "What do you mean by your fault? Since when are the actions of one person to be blamed on another?"

"You do not trust me." he heard her mumble.

"That's not true. Besides, it has nothing to do with what I do with my days."

"Since I'm an idiot you don't trust me. And since you don't trust me, for you my recommendations don't make any sense."

The young man sighed. "When I said you were an idiot I didn't mean it. It was out of anger. I'm sorry."

"Whether you think so or not, it doesn't matter. I'm an idiot. I don't know how to take care of you or make you happy. I can't support you properly. It's normal that you don't make me trust." she declared between her sobs.

"I already told you it was wrong. I trust you."

"Then why don't you ever listen to me?!"

He answered hesitantly, "Because I think I'm right..."

With a joyless laugh she replied "Among other things because you are proud and stubborn."

Astre was offended by this description but decided to play it lightly. "If you want."

"Not, if I want to! You have it!"

"Okay, okay! It's fine..." then he followed, whispering, "You're not ashamed to accuse your husband of such a sin..."

"Because it's my fault maybe?! Someone could say that I'm a bad wife, but surely not that I'm responsible for your pride. God knows I tried to cure you of it!"

"Well perfect! My pride to accompany your stupidity! What a charming couple we make..."

"I'm not an idiot!"

"I second you said the opposite!"

"I can tell, but not the others!"

A silence fell between the two. Elizabeth, who had been sitting at the foot of the door for a long time, was soon joined by her husband who did the same on the other side.

"Your words are sorely lacking in meaning..." the Count whispered.

"It's to go with your stubborn attitude."

"Ah! Don't lie, we're both stubborn. The nonsense you spout is single."

"Certainly, but their parents are your person!"

"You see me happy to know that we have a child, but how did we do it? If my actions are not dictated by yours, so are yours."

"Well, I am your wife. I am then your property and under your guardianship. My actions reflect yours. Therefore you are as guilty of my stupidity as I am."

"A few seconds ago you were the cause of all evil on earth and now it's me!"

"Let's say that I am the reason for your misfortune and that you are the reason for mine..."

"Gorgeous. I heard that's how a couple works. So our marriage fears nothing!"

"Oh I'm not sure. My naivety could be our downfall."

Star sighed. "Maybe it's time to stop being so stubborn. We're just going around in circles."

"At least we walk together..."

The tears of the countess had stopped. Only through the woods did her husband hear her sniffle. "Do you have a handkerchief? Open me up so I can give you one."

He discerned the sound of the movement of her clothes, alerting her to his movement. The young man got up in turn, then waited for the click of the lock.

Once the door opened the two left looked at each other slightly embarrassed.

The Count cleared his throat "I lied, I don't have a handkerchief."

Elizabeth copied her action. "I played you too. I didn't speak, and opened the door." she pulled out two embroidered fabrics from her pockets "While I had handkerchiefs."

Her husband noticed that one of the two small fabrics did not have their initials. He gave her a judgmental look "It's not ours, is it?"

"No, it's your friend's downstairs."

She barely had time to finish her sentence when Astre ripped the fabric from her hands and threw her aside. "I have no friend."

Casting an annoyed glance at the handkerchief, the Countess spoke, "You'd probably get more if you didn't mistreat other people's business."

The young man sighed again "Never mind. Why did you open me if you didn't need cloth to wipe away your tears?"

Crossing her arms behind her back and directing her pupils to the ceiling, she replied, "Maybe I had some hidden agenda."

"I suspect. That's why I'm asking."

"Well, I don't know why I should answer! After all you lied to me too. Eventually, if you tell me your reason, I'll be tempted to tell mine."

The Count rolled his eyes. However, he coughed and then complied. "My reason is simple. To have seen tears flow from your eyes by my fault to chastise my soul more skillfully than any executioner. Only, knowing you are overwhelmed but beyond my reach is too torturous. So, out of sheer selfishness, my heart prefers to suffer watching your tears expose my crimes."

Faced with such a beautiful declaration, Elizabeth's cheeks dusted with red. "Evoking simplicity and not respecting it in your following sentences is a pleonasm..."

"I thought for once I would make the effort to shower you with nice words."

"Was it just flattery then?"

"Yes and no. I could have just said that I wanted to see your face. But that wouldn't have reflected half of my feelings."

"So you know the sensitivity and nuances of feelings all of a sudden. Any special reason?"

"And I see you're trying to back away from your promise. Any special reason?"

"What promise? I don't remember any."

Seeing that she was playing, with a crooked smile and arms crossed Astre leaned against the door frame. "Something along the lines of 'I'll tell you my reason.'"

"Indeed. However, I'm afraid I said I would be 'tempted'. So that wasn't a promise until proven otherwise."

"Really!" he approached two steps from her, and the young woman did the same but behind. The Count took advantage of the space created to close the door. "I didn't know that manipulating decent people was part of your passions, Mrs. Phantomhive." he walked into the room towards his wife. Once again she backed away. The young man then proceeded to begin to form a circle while walking. Unsurprisingly, she mimed her act as if she were her reflection.

"Manipulating? Accusing me of such foolishness is as consistent as asserting that you are honest. That makes no sense, and is just nonsense."

"You hurt me greatly Madam." he reinforced his words by placing his left hand on his heart. "But, are you sure you don't want to tell me the justification for your actions now?" noticing that Elizabeth was placed in front of their bed he stopped and then took a step towards her. This time she followed him and moved on too. But that didn't bother him. On the other hand, he barely pushed her with his fingertips. Caught up in their staging, the Countess acted like he'd applied decent pressure and backed off. Only not having seen their canopy behind her, the back of her knees bumped into the mattress and she ended up in a sitting position.

This surprised her, but she quickly took it back. "Why now? Would anything else happen? Would you try to threaten me?" the young woman questioned in a falsely offended tone.

Now with less of a way to escape, Astre took advantage of Elizabeth's situation to put her left foot on the bedding and with her right hand pull out the gun that was in the back of her belt. Then leaning towards her face he touched his wife's chin lightly with his weapon "Maybe. I have some methods to make you talk. But I'm afraid it's a little too rough for your body. "

The Countess knew he had nothing in mind when he said that. However, with her stance accompanied by her smile; the mind of the young woman could not help but fly to inappropriate thoughts. At that moment a sweltering wave of heat shot through every fiber of his being. And his biomechanics intended to make this noticeable by coloring his skin a deep red.

The Count was at first troubled by his wife's reaction. Then thinking and analyzing what had just happened, his cheeks even began to flare up. Almost tripping over himself, he hurriedly pushed both feet back to the floor and put away his pistol. "I-I! It wasn't my intention! Really! You know, it was just an act: bandit... criminal, interrogation... Whatever you want!"

Tucking a flyaway strand behind her ear, lips curling upward, she says playfully, almost singing, "I know."

At the sound of his voice, Astre ignited even more. "No! Really, that's not it!" then he saw her smile "Are you kidding me!" he declared.

She was just as flushed as he was, yet that didn't stop her from laughing out loud. Finding that he was now well and truly the subject of her taunts; he looked away from her and went to sit on the dressing table seat.

Elizabeth's high-pitched guffaws subsided. Then looking at her husband she said somewhat embarrassed "I opened the door, because I wanted you to hug me."

The count turned his eye to her "I don't know if you deserve it?"

But she pouted, so he shuffled and went to sit beside her. The young man spread his arms, then without waiting the Countess threw herself on him. Star greeted him with a thud, but returned the embrace anyway.

A few minutes passed, then pulling his wife as close to him as possible, he whispered in her ear, "Lizzy, I trust you. I'm just scared."

Her head resting comfortably on her shoulder she asked "Why? I'm strong."

"I don't doubt your abilities. I just don't want you to go through what I'm going through. Having the abilities and acting out are two very different things."

"Theory and practice is not it?"

"Yes it is."

"Then let me at least help you with things where my life wouldn't be at stake. You could teach me how to run the Phantom Company while you're gone. It would make you a lot less work."

Star took a few seconds to think about it. "True. It would be dangerous for the company but not for you."

At this remark, the Countess grabbed a lock of her husband's hair, then tugged it lightly as punishment for this mockery. He complained slightly but laughed all the same.

The young woman stepped back, and let her hands slide along the arms of the one she loved to finally link his fingers with hers. "So you will teach me?"

"Little by little... I'll try."

Elizabeth smiled brightly at him. She was so happy that he finally let her help him. Thus, in her joy, but without forgetting the well-being of her husband, very gently she bent down, closed her eyelids, and kissed him on the cheek.

-x-

For all who thought this was going to be a kiss on the mouth: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! YOU FOOL! I HAVE SEVENTEEN- oh wait bad memes.

Anyways girls. And yes! I'm just as surprised as you! Another chapter soon! Damn sound!

Feel free to leave a comment. Even if it's to ask when the next chapter comes out. Especially if it's been a while since I posted. When I haven't written for a while this kind of message encourages me to write.

otherwise. As usual: thank you for reading; sorry for the spelling mistakes, I hope you liked it; kisses and until next time.

13

-x-

The Phantomhive couple were back in Astre's office. The Count was seated in his armchair while his wife had taken her place at his side on a chair brought. In her hands she held a small notebook and a pen.

The young man looked at his watch. "Good. Our discussion lasted longer than I thought." Then put her away, "It's now 6:23 p.m. I've asked Sebastian to dismiss the people I don't need to see urgently. So we only have four appointments left. Since we're in a hurry, you'll just watch. I don't want any comment. Is that clear?" he looked at her sternly. Elizabeth replied with a quick nod of her head. "Good. We should be done by 8:30 p.m. So our supper is extremely staggered. If you're hungry, you endure. No breaks, we don't have time. Any comments?"

The Countess raised her hand.

Her husband sighed. "Yes."

"You are terribly attractive when you work."

#black butler fanfiction

[jdmainman123]

Again I'm covering up for security guards kicking me off of properties that's 10 properties and weird enough guess what all these 10 properties had a charging electrical outlet abandoned building after abandoned building with a working electrical outlet as weird as that sounds you know I'm saying the light don't even work but the electrical outlet works

Right this black skin family and white skin family because their daughters retarded she will not win in the p*** genocide it's not for every girl and no it's not the black

BUT AGAIN I BELIEVE THESE PEOPLE ARE ONLY LEFT BEHIND TO WATCH THE LITTLE BOYS JERK OFF AND AGAIN FOR THE HOUSES TO BE THE UNDERLYING STATEMENT HERE OF WHAT HAPPENED AND FOR YOU GUYS TO REFUSE THAT THAT'S THE EXAMPLE IN THE WRONG FOR YOU GUYS TO HAVE THOSE TINY 3/4 HOUSES we Believe places like this shouldn't exist shouldn't be open AND THE HOUSES ARE A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF WHY

It almost seems like they've become homeless satellite maker families with wanting to ignore it's almost a business almost a McDonald's I think the McDonald's is the only place they can keep clean and I don't know why you know I mean it should be a mess in there BUT IT BUT IT THEN THE STATEMENT IS TRUE THEY BECOME A SATELLITE MAKERS AND HOMELESS AND AGAIN WE WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BLAME ANYBODY BUT THE BLACKS THE LATINS IN SPANISH MORE IMPORTANTLY and again they have a teed off and went all in on calling black hair white skin boys accidents and this is this is the worst place for me to be let me tell you why I was there for the first call the black skin men think white skin and black hair is the accident and this one I knew their daughter was dead because they were in control of a white hair white skin man and snow WHO ALLOWED THIS BEHAVIOR WHO ALLOWED THIS BELIEFS OUTSIDE AND FOR THESE BLACKSKIN N****** TO WALK FREELY WITH WITH BEING WRONG AND CALLING PERFECT SCIENCE OF WHITE SKIN AND BLACK HAIR AND ACCIDENT and then it happened the little girl in handcuffed the two foot three inch girl the 3-ft 4-in girl ALSO CALLED MY WHITE SKIN AND ACCIDENT BUT SHE WAS LOOKING HER LIPS AT THE SAME TIME SO IT ALMOST SEEMS LIKE IT WAS FORCED AND MAYBE SHE WASN'T YOUNG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT THE SATELLITE THE INTEGRATE WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT but even sure she couldn't resist energy to resist

And it just sad here you know there's a certain point of survival when it comes to you know this place needs a real warplane effect needs to get its ass whooped you guys need to pull every satellite maker out beat the s*** out of them and start over

And again I just can't wait to get out of the city the whole understanding of me here is to test the architecture and the satellites of the satellite maker talking s*** 24/7 and they're using different weapons to force blood from my brain but it's still the same 24/7 talk to me asking a question to change the question to change the statement I made THAT'S RIGHT TO KEEP ME TALKING TO KEEP ME BREATHING

But again when it comes down to a building versus the house unfortunately for you people it was about an airplane AND REAL MONEY AND POWER AND THE REASON WHY WE BLAME MIKE AND THE FAMILY IS BECAUSE THESE BLACK SKIN MEN HAVE WANTED TO DRAG THE GIRLS DOWN TO THE GROUND WITH THEM AND THEY HAVE SPECIFICALLY GONE INTO TELLING ME 24/7 WITH THE GIRLS ARE SAYING

That's right you can't talk to a boy without his mommy or sister present

But again they continue to talk to me about the girl and here's the problem I have the girls full testament the 3ft 4-in girl live in court all the girls were there they all testified for years about 15 years the same statement every time. And everything that you guys are accusing her of you just want her to be dragged down to the ground with you to say I wasn't alone and it just seems like Missouri loves company and for you guys to continue to tell me what she says 24/7 the reason why you places need to be removed it's cuz your airplane Jason didn't work and again you guys take comfort and talking to people 24/7 and lying to them and if they don't agree or believe they are made sick

And again you guys still find comfort and the fact of talking to me 24/7 not face to face but over the satellites AND IT'S JUST WEIRD FOR HOW WRONG HE GOT IT FOR HOW WRONG MAN WAS AND FOR THIS A SATELLITE MAKER IN A BIGGER CITY TO SEND ME HERE AND CLAIM ALL THE GIRLS CUZ YOU LET ME PASS SAFELY THIS THIS ONE'S FUNNY because what happened a lot of these cities thought it was better aligning with the loser that that said he let me go to come here then to align with me because they know my money and power they they figured I don't like appreciate abusing innocent boys and girls and and the other side of the satellite makers entire family was killed here SO I GUESS ONE HAND WASHES THE OTHER I GUESS I'LL JUST THREAT I JUST SENT HERE TO SEND A GOOD THREAT like if you don't like your father you know you're going to be ended up with this guy think about it

But more importantly for the integration to continue to talk to me it seems the the root of the cause is them dragging a girl down with them saying she was just as big as a part of it as I was AND AGAIN NOT IN 100 YEARS WOULD I BE HERE DATING THIS GIRL JUST PUT IT OUT THERE FYI

And again for them to continue to talk to me over the satellite maybe weirder than. So I know it's true he's here. The weirdest thing is you guys continue to talk to me over the satellite not some f****** guy who got off the airplane and just stayed 15 days outside sleeping and itching his ass and they still have me itching my balls I believe Boston called it why I would be here is to itch my balls outside on the satellite for your dead white skin white trash daughter I know the black girls don't like it because they can't finger themself the p*** because their p**** stinks so much remember the dog THAT'S WHY THE DOG QUIT LICKING

Yeah and we have to call it we believe #report I quit CHICAGO WHENEVER YOU'RE READY TO ANSWER I'D APPRECIATE SOME HELP HERE PEOPLE oh you know what conure get them on the phone with Newark and tell Chicago to pick up their phones tell him to confirm this. I quit THE DOG QUIT LICKING THE BLACK SKIN GIRLS P**** BECAUSE IT STINKS and then and then they went on the attack on a God calling him a bad man because I don't know last time I seen a white hair white skin girl walking a dog outside I remember saying that's a real lucky dog miss you have a real lucky dog

It has to be I quit you know what I'm saying it's all quit licking her p**** it has to be either that or I quietly shower

I'M JUST ANXIOUS TO LEAVE THE CITY TO SEE THE CUT I LEFT IN LAX 3/4 HEAD FOR SENDING EVERY SATELLITE OPERATOR BLACK SKIN AND WHITE SKIN INTO THE WORLD TO CHALLENGE ME FOR A DAUGHTER OR A DOLLAR MEANWHILE SATELLITE MAKER AND THIS BOY THESE YOUNG MEN'S ALL SHARE THE SAME DEAD DAUGHTER AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE ATTACK ON THE AIRPLANES WHICH HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ME MY JOB IS WORKING AT THE AIRPORT BUT AGAIN IT CONSISTS OF VISITING CITIES WHERE PEOPLE WILL NEVER LEAVE JUST LIKE THESE CITIES and for you to say I own every girl in the world is one thing but this at on every girl who put her butt in one of those airplane seats is another thing and again vigilante remember we guys we told you guys about vigilante the guy who keeps on offering up specific information. Every time I see vigilante or he speaks over the satellite it's like he's trying to suck my dick. LIKE ALL I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OH NO YOU CAN'T TALK BAD ABOUT HIM HE'S THE RICHEST MAN ALL HE OWNS EVERY GIRL AND IT'S F****** LOSER VIGILANTE NOW HAS THE BLACK SKIN MEN ALL COACHING WITH PERSONAL AND SPECIFIC INFORMATION OF MINE22 all the boys and girls that don't know me. So I know if he's true? He's here for 15 days. What they're doing is informing the boys like real time on on them wanting to come out and help satellite lie to me to my brain WITH REAL INFORMATION HE'S RICH HE'S POWERFUL HE'S A DRAGON HE LOVES TATTOOS HE LOVES SUCKING P**** and again these insider these are the same things they're denying these are the same things we want you here to get something off our chest the what we told the people who you are and again vigilante keeps on offering up the exact information my answers that I would have said myself. And and almost contradicts what the satellite says about me and then he offers up the specific information no he's Rich no he has all the girls in the world

IF IT WASN'T FOR SOCIALISM THESE PLACES WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN OPENED OR OR WE WOULD SEEK AND HOPE THESE THREE FOURTHS WILL BE SHUT DOWN AND CARE FOR THE LITTLE KIDS IT'S NOTHING HAPPENED MORE HERE THAN HATE CRIMES ON LITTLE KIDS TAKING ADVANTAGE OF LITTLE KIDS AND FOR US TO HAVE NOTICED EVEN A WHITE SKIN SATELLITE OPERATOR COULD DO THIS WITHOUT A SATELLITE MAKER is there any act statement

Like even a rock could do this okay it's too easy like put give us a challenge give us some competition you know like fight a man or fight a woman

And again I'm just excited to leave I got three days and again they kicked me off the only thing they have here is is kicked me off for three properties and I warned them about my quid pro quo the portable bathroom AND AND THEN WE WE ARE NOW OFFICIALLY ALLOWED TO PRONOUNCE THIS BLACK CULT DEAD DOA BECAUSE OF THE PORTABLE BATHROOM THERE'S NO QUESTION IN MY MIND THAT'S WHAT WAS THE LAST STRAW AND AND THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO WIN IN COURT you know I haven't been inside for over 25 days and for me to be hanging out in a portable bathroom just taking dumps whenever I want

It's a quid pro quo and we're going to make this very very known and very specific for why I'm bleeding again you know there's no reason for this you know if you're trying to impress a 2 ft 3-in girl satellite operator or a 3-ft 4-in girl satellite operator listen you guys it's almost like a taste to hurt little babies not every Man has it some men were lucky enough like me to not have to be any facilities to be any cities to have a luck your life with five foot women and six foot man hanging out playing basketball AND AND PLEASE BECAUSE YOU'RE EMBARRASSMENT AND SHAME YOU GUYS TRY TO FIND ANYBODY WHO'S WILLING TO COME ALONG WITH YOU TO DRAG DOWN AS THE EXAMPLE IS ON THE INTEGRATION AND YOU KEEP ON TELLING ME THAT THIS GIRL AGREES WITH EVERYTHING AND ALL IT SEEMS TO BE WHY I'M STILL HERE UNDER THE INTEGRATION IS FOR YOU TO TELL ME THIS GIRL WANTED EVERYTHING TO DO WITH WHAT HAPPENED WITH THESE MEN. AND TO CONTINUE TO DRAG HER DOWN WITH YOU AND I'M NOT GOING TO COME TO HER DEFENSE BECAUSE SHE'S ONLY TWO FOOT THREE INCHES YOU KNOW THAT'S KIND OF DISGUSTING NOT IN 100 YEARS WAS VERY SPECIFIC TO WHY I DON'T CARE ABOUT HER OR THE BOYS

But for you guys to think someone's after you is is completely stupid and completely wrong I think the only reason you're asked you think someone's after is because you know your behavior is wrong and then I think that's your embarrassment and shame

And again if it's only that the security the cops kicking me off of every property and then of course I'm only calling it in Black City so they can record my voice but you said but you said but you said here's the problem because of the statements from Chicago down to LAX 34th they're calling things that the kids this is how I was retired I was done the kids have picked up on something they've all fallen for a belief and and we in reality if you see that have proven it to be wrong but they continue to force it down our brains AND AND 24/7 THE SATISFACTION OF THEM BEING THAT WHATEVER THE STATEMENTS THAT THEY SAID THAT'S THE REALITY THAT'S THE WAY IT'S ALWAYS GOING TO BE HERE AND IT'S NEVER GOING TO CHANGE AND IF YOU SEEN BETTER AND IF YOU KNOW BETTER AND YOU'RE COMING TO THE CITY YOU'RE GOING TO BE MURDERED OR BLOOD DRIPPING OR 24/7 AT 7-ELEVEN GETTING DRINKS AND SNACKS JUST TO GO TAKE A POOP

And again because these 3/4 what we said the satellite behavior is until they all fall into something they can believe in something they think is true but they cannot prove until that happens the satellite will not stop talking or stop trying statement after statement until one of them falls through and all of them go into believing it AND BUT YOU SAID BUT YOU SAID BUT YOU SAID THE SATELLITE HAS CALLED SPECIFICALLY CERTAIN THINGS THAT I CALLED OFF THAT I SAID WEREN'T TRUE BUT CONTINUE TO FORCE DOWN MY BRAIN AND CONTINUE TO REPEAT OUTSIDE it's a nightmare this place there's nothing about freedom here there's no real satellite maker science AND JUST PREY FOR THE GIRLS MORE IMPORTANTLY PREY FOR THE GIRLS

[sunflowerdaisybee]

Hello I hope your doing well! Can I request a platonic Bench trio x reader story with a reader who feels sick but still goes to a vlog recording with them and the benchtrio finds out half way through the vlog. You can continue it from there :]

Ah this was actually really cute, something I would 100% do too. On a serious note though please don’t ever force yourself to do something if you are sick or feeling unwell, it’s really not good for you /g /pos

Summary: The boys notice you are feeling unwell even after you try to deny it

Pairing: P!Bench Trio X Reader

Pronouns: they/them

[A/n]: requests are open, check out the 1000 follower special <3

You knew that when you woke up this morning you were sick, everything from the splitting headache to the nauseous feelings were evident of your claim. Being sick wouldn’t work for you though, you needed to film a vlog with your friends and if you were sick you’d either have to reschedule or miss it entirely, both of which you didn’t want to let happen.

“Fuck, I gotta start getting dressed.” You had allowed yourself to lay in bed for a few extra minutes in hope that the sick feelings would pass, but they didn’t. You were adamant about partaking in the vlog though so with slow moves you sat up, taking a moment to rest before standing up and moving to your clothes.

“(Y/n)! Glad to see you awake! You were so quiet in there we thought you might have died!”

“Heh, yeah almost felt like it.” Tubbo was the first to greet you, you having been the last one to join the group it was only right for him to greet you first. Ranboo was still half asleep and Tommy was finishing off the last few bites of his breakfast.

“You alright there Ranboo, you look a little tired?”

“I am tired, it’s too early to be awake. You ok though, you look a little pale?” All eyes fully turned to you at that, and Ranboo was right, you were paler than normal.

“Ah, it’s probably from how much time I’ve been spending inside. A little fresh air and sunshine should have me back to normal.” You knew that being inside wasn’t the reason you were pale but you couldn’t just tell the trio you were sick, they would’ve made you go back to bed and rest.

“Are you guys ready? I’d like to get this show on the road!” The three boys all responded with variations of yes, gathering themselves up and heading outside with you.

The day was warm and bright, perfect for the group vlog, though the good weather did nothing to make you feel better. If you’re being honest, being up and walking around in the sun all day had only made you feel worse.

“Hey (Y/n), you ok, you don’t look so good?” It was Tommy who had brought up your worsening condition, placing his hand worryingly on your shoulder.

“Yeah I- I just gotta sit for a second.” You tried to dismiss their worrying, muttering about how it’s nothing and you’re ok. They weren’t letting you dismiss them though, instead, they all moved to sit beside you, checking you over and making sure you were ok.

“Here, drink this.” Ranboo had passed you a water bottle from the bag he was carrying, opening it and holding it up for you. Tubbo had taken the items from your hands and held them so you could drink from the water and Tommy made a call to his mom.

“Hey mom, are you busy?” Tommy stepped away to chat with his mom about picking you all up while Ranboo and Tubbo sat with you.

“(Y/n), you should’ve said something earlier if you weren’t feeling well.”

“I, I didn’t want to ruin the vlog. I know the fans have been waiting for so long and I would’ve felt so bad if they had to wait even longer because of me.”

“Who cares what the fans think, your health is more important. You could’ve gotten hurt today, that was so reckless of you. I understand why you did it but you gotta take care of yourself, your health is more important than our fans.”

“As much as I appreciate the two of you, I do not appreciate the lecture. Is there any way we could save it for later, when I’m feeling better?”

“Fine, but only because I’m 99% sure you aren’t listening right now anyways.” It was by now that Tommy had rejoined the group, letting you all know that his mom was on her way to pick you all up and that she would be here soon.

“You didn’t have to call her, I could’ve made the walk back just fine.”

“Nope, and you’re gonna sit right there until she gets here. You’ve overworked yourself enough, from now on you will be doing nothing but resting and taking it easy until you are feeling your best!”

“You guys really don’t have to do this, I’m good enough to finish the vlog. We still have a few minutes till Tommy’s mom gets here.”

“Nope, you are gonna keep sitting there, and we’ll save the vlog for a different day.”

“But the fans are expecting a vlog.”

“We’ll just do a stream or something and let them know you aren’t feeling well so it’s gonna be delayed. They’ll understand.”

“And if they don’t then we’ll kill them.”

“Ranboo no.”

Taglist: @joyfullymulti @minty-ghast @rokkyy @duddum-froppers @sortzz @l0ver0fj0y @vaxiwastaken

#mcyt x gender neutral reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #dsmp x reader #dsmp x male reader #dsmp x gender neutral reader #dsmp x you #dsmp x y/n #dream smp x gender neutral reader #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #mcyt x male reader #dream smp x male reader #p!bench trio x gender neutral reader #p!bench trio x male reader #p!bench trio x reader #p!bench trio x you #p!bench trio x y/n #x reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader platonic #x male reader platonic #x gender neutral reader platonic

[officialscaramouche]

ayo feel like doing a gorou confession fic for me? pretty please with sprinkles on top (you know that fucking tiktok)

Ofc Pizzato anything for u my dear 🥰

Pairing: Gorou x gn!reader

Warnings: slight angst

Word count: 1,969

You heard a couple friendly knocks on your office door, eyes glancing to the clock to see it was a little past noon and you knew exactly who it was. “Come in,” you chime, putting down your pen and stretching upwards with a smile.

“Helloooooo!” You hear as the door swung open, Kazuha flaunting an envelope between his fingers. “Letter time!”

You sweep to your feet and give him grabby hands. “Give it to me!” He chuckles and places the thin paper into your hands. “Tell me who it is already,” you giggle as you rip it open and slide the letter out.

“No,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I keep my promises.”

You quirk and eyebrow before you fold open the letter. “Even if I bribe you with dango?”

Kazuha smiles. “Even if you bribe me with dango.”

You grunt and groan but it quickly stops when you unfold the letter, reading the contents.

Good afternoon, cupcake, it starts. You blush at the pet name. I hope your day is going as well as mine. I’ve just won the office lottery! I’m going to ask for more snacks in the break room. That way, everyone benefits too! Specifically though, I want more sakura mochi! The ones you made for us were delicious. Share your recipe? :3

I adore you, your secret admirer.

You squeeze the letter to your chest and squeal, your face warm from blushing and your heart pounding against your chest. “Oh, Kazuha, whoever this person is, I really wish they’d come up and confess!”

Kazuha tuts and wiggles his finger. “But then the mystery wouldn’t be there anymore.”

“Screw mystery!” You squealed, gazing down at the illegible and scratchy handwriting, the mysterious stains and fur all over the page. “I’m ready to hear these words in person.”

Just then there was a knock on your door and a quick turn of the knob, one of the top brass leaning against your door frame. “Good morning, Chatty Cathy’s,” sang a familiar voice and ear twitches.

You wave while Kazuha bows, hiding the letter behind your back. “Good morning, General Gorou.”

The tail behind his back wagged discreetly as the two men share a knowing glance. “Kazuha,” the general clears his throat. “May I speak with you?”

The samurai nods his head and gives you a little wave as he walks out the door. “Bye boys!” You sing, tucking the letter back into the envelope and putting it away.

The next day, as routine, a little past noon you heard three friendly knocks on your door. You excitedly put your pen down, closing your ledger and standing out of your chair and onto your feet. “Kazuha,” you grinned. “Come in!”

He pushed the door open with his back, lugging a big box with some plastic sticking out from the top. “I’m just a mule to you guys aren’t I?” He groaned, lifting the box up and onto your desk. “This is ridiculous.”

You stood on your tippy toes to try and peek inside the box without being obnoxious. “What is it?” You hum, getting more and more restless.

“Your letter, what else?” He kind of snapped, letting out a deep sigh and rolling his eyes. “I wish he’d confess too. That way I don’t have to carry these things.”

You pulled back the top of the box that was just out of your reach. “Here,” pushing your hands away, Kazuha tore the box apart to expose a giant basket full of goodies and flowers. “The letter.”

Kazuha snapped the taped-on letter from the plastic and handed it to you. Wasting no time at all, you rip the envelope open and unfold the letter.

Dearest [Y/N], you’ve pierced my heart like an arrow through a target and I simply cannot get you off my mind. I heard from the grapevine that you wish for my confession. …Maybe I shall do so in the near future? It’s not that I do not want to be yours, but rather that you make me quite nervous. Still, we see each other for terribly brief moments but these moments are the most precious to me. Hopefully I can muster up the courage to finally tell you how I feel. In the meantime, please accept these treats and toys imported from across the globe. My favorite are the dog-shaped biscuits.

Your shy admirer.

Looking up from the letter you find Kazuha stuffing his face with some chocolatey cookies from within a tin box labeled ‘Fontaine.’ “Are those good?” You ask, reaching in and stealing one.

“Mhm,” Kazuha hums, taking a bite out of the one in his hand. “I’ve never had Fontaine chocolate. I guess the rumors about being the best were true.”

You melt under the sweet taste and crunchy texture, thinking that if your crush’s letters had a taste, it would be like this. “This is so nice,” you sigh, eyes sparkling as they gaze upon the basket. “Do you think he’s going to confess to me?”

Kazuha stares out the windows of your office that peer into the rest of the building, watching a certain general spill water on himself and the resistance leader. He takes another bite of a cookie. “Maybe.”

You squeal in delight and spin around in joy. “My heart’s beating so fast! I hope he does it soon or I’ll explode!”

Kazuha chuckles and playfully shoves you aside. “If you explode, I’m eating all of your snacks.”

“No! They’re mine!”

Weeks— almost a month— go by with no further letters. Kazuha stopped coming by, whether at noon or otherwise. The only knocks you got were visits from Kokomi about the budget or from other soldiers carrying reports and receipts from spending. Your heart ached at the sudden lack of contact, wondering if you had done or said something wrong.

Maybe your eagerness was intimidating and this mystery man just wanted someone to flirt with without commitment. Maybe he got bored of you. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

Regardless, you wanted to try and spark it back up in case you’ve stepped on some toes without realizing. That night when you got home, you tossed the ingredients for sakura mochi into a bowl and got to mixing.

The office ate everything you brought before lunchtime rolled around. With such great success, you had confidence that he’d reach out to you tomorrow, if not today.

But alas you were left in silence once more, leaving your heart to crumble and ache. You were quick to recover, considering you never met the guy— let alone knew his name. But you had no time to be worrying anyway, because in a couple of days one of the squads were returning from the front lines and you needed to factor in medical costs. Apparently they took a hard hit when Sara Kujou showed up with her samurai. Kokomi was depending on you, and you didn’t want to let her down.

You spend these few days really crunching the numbers, making sure that every wounded soldier would get the basic medical necessities with some left over for any miscalculations. With every i dotted and every t crossed, you stuffed your report into a fancy envelope and handed it to Kokomi. “Thank you [Y/N] for your hard work under such a sudden timetable.” She thanked, tucking the envelope under her arm. “The team should be arriving tomorrow, so I will be submitting this for review immediately.”

You bow respectfully and offer your thanks for praise. “It’s no problem at all, Her Excellency. I was given ample time to prepare the balance sheet.” You begin to turn when you’re stopped once again by her.

“Before you go,” she smiles softly. “Would you mind helping out at the infirmary? We’re short handed right now with the sudden intake of Delusions.”

“Of course, Her Excellency. I will be there whenever you need me.”

You weren’t specialized in medics but you had helped around often enough to know the basics. And anyone could become a master at immediate medical attention after doing it so many times.

The flood of gurneys was a little disheartening to see, but you were still thankful for all that they do for the greater of the country. It must be scary being at the front lines, but everyone knew what they were signing up for.

You catch sight of Genera Gorou and Lord Kazuha chatting with Lady Kokomi before you were assigned to a batch of wounded soldiers, feeling a little bad for harboring ill feelings toward the young lord for disappearing. ‘You could’ve at least told me that you were leaving,’ you thought as you rinsed the injured area.

“I can take over from here,” the head medic stepped in, slipping on a new pair of gloves before getting a closer look at the soldier before you. With most of everyone patched up and recovering, the medic team was able to take control of the infirmary once again.

You wash your hands and check the clock. A little past noon. It’s funny how at this time you would’ve waited with bated breath for a couple of knocks. But not anymore.

You step out of the infirmary and find Kazuha and General Gorou sitting outside on the benches there. “Oh, hi boys,” you say surprised.

Kazuha grabs and shakes your hand. “Thank you for helping out our soldiers,” he says seriously.

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” you mutter. “I do this all the time.”

A calloused hand pushes Kazuha’s away and shakes your hand firmer, harder. “No, [Y/N],” Gorou says with a sort of oomph behind his words. “These are my men…my family. They would be suffering if not for your help.”

You look to the side uncomfortably, a little put-off by the tension in the air. “And that’s why—!” Gorou continues, suddenly eight decibels louder. You hold eye contact with the general, his face darkening into a deep red flush, his eyes glassy and ears twitching. He squeezed your hand harder and shut his eyes. “M-My C-C-Cupcake!!! P-Please let m-me take you on a date!!!!”

Kazuha winced at the loudness of his friend, covering one of his ears but still smiling nonetheless. The people walking by stared and mumbled, but it didn’t matter as you felt your heart pound against your chest. You felt your eyes well with tears as now your face flushed red, the general cautiously opening his eyes to see your trembling lips and pathetic pout. “A-Ah! [Y/N], don’t cry!!”

You tug on his hand hard, pulling the man into your arms and squeezing him tight. You sobbed into his chest, hearing and feeling how frantic his heart was beating as well. “You idiot!” You shout into his battle-worn chest. “Don’t disappear without telling me…”

Gorou caressed the back of your head and chewed on his lip, his tail drooping with guilt but twitching with excitement for being in your arms. “Did I…scare you?” He whispered tentatively, choosing his words carefully.

You pull away and wipe your eyes, Gorou watching you closely and holding tightly onto your waist. “I thought you got tired of me…because I stopped hearing from you.” Gorou frowned and cupped your face, thumbing your cheeks gently. “I even made sakura mochi and I didn’t—”

“You made sakura mochi??!??!!! Is there any left?!?” Gorou’s jaw dropped. He let you go to turn and run to the break room, halting before running back to embrace you once more. “Heh, uh…” he chuckled nervously. “I’d actually…rather hold you like this…”

You couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your cheeks, flushing your body against his chest. “That’s okay,” you giggle. “There aren’t any left.”

You had no idea that his ears could flatten sadly like that.

#writing #Gorou #Gorou x reader #angst #fluff #oneshot #a stupid capricorn

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

#we out here #yeehaw #my writing #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #ct-7567 #captai rex #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sw

[parkerslatte]

Life’s Too Short

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Spencer is shot in the neck and Y/N sits in the hospital with JJ and Alex talking about her future with him.

MASTERLIST

***

The white lights in the waiting room shone brightly as Y/N bounced her foot up and down anxiously. Even though there were many people around her, Y/N felt alone and isolated. Obviously being in the FBI had its fair share of injuries but this particular injury to a particular team member had left Y/N unable to comprehend it.

Her hands shook as the memory of the traumatic incident replayed in her mind over and over again. She could still feel the blood pouring out of Spencer's wound as she applied pressure to it. She remembered how he looked at her - dazed but afraid to die. She remembered how everything around her seemed to happen in slow motion.

"Don't die on me Spencer, you hear me? Don't die," Y/N pleaded with him, "Stay with me, okay? Stay with me Spence, please."

Her final words to Spencer before he was loaded into the ambulance were frantic and slurred together. Y/N stood there and watched as the ambulance drove away. She didn't go with him in the ambulance. Now sitting in the waiting room, she regretted that decision. She had been told that Spencer was trying to ask for her in the ambulance before he passed out. If he died, Y/N would hold the guilt of not going with him in the ambulance for the rest of her life.

Alex, who had been sat next to Y/N, placed a gentle hand on her knee causing her to jump.

"It's only me." Alex calmed her. Y/N only nodded before her foot resumed it's light tapping.

"He's going to make it, he's strong." Alex tried to comfort Y/N although Alex herself was filled with the same fear as Y/N - though not as strong.

"He needs to." Y/N's voice was barely audible but Alex heard her fine.

JJ took a seat across from Y/N and Alex, her face was filled with stress and worry - for Spencer but also for Y/N. The blonde had never seen Y/N look or act like this. Y/N would always try to give people words of encouragement whenever something bad happened. But now, seeing her sitting there looking pale and worrisome caused a wave of sympathy to wash over JJ.

Y/N zoned out as JJ and Alex fell into a conversation. She wanted to be alone, although she knew that neither of the two would allow that. All she wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare she was living and be safe and sound in the arms of Spencer - alive and well.

"Could you imagine Spence as a dad?" JJ said, bringing Y/N out of her mind space.

Y/N felt like she was frozen. Her and Spencer had discussed before the topic of kids but Y/N didn't think she was ready and the topic was dropped respectfully. But now, Y/N realised how short life was and how it can be cut even shorter in an instant.

"Y/N, are you okay?" JJ questioned, "You're crying."

Y/N looked at JJ through teary eyes. Shakily, she brought her hand up to her cheek to find it damp. She didn't even realise she was crying. Hastily she wiped away the tears and let out a long sigh. There was a long pause where no one spoke. JJ and Alex both looked at Y/N waiting to see if she would speak. They both wanted to comfort their friend.

"Spence and I were talking about kids," Y/N broke the silence with an unsteady voice, she sounded like she ould burst into tears at any second, "It was about six months back."

"What did you say?" JJ asked softly.

"I said I wasn't ready," Y/N admitted, "And I wasn't, not then. With our job and everything I didn't think that having a kid would be the best thing at the moment," Y/N explained.

"I see it all the time but today I realised how quickly a life can be taken away. I never thought I would nearly see Spencer lose his life - he's fighting for his life in there and I can't do anything about it," Y/N paused for a moment, "I now see how short a life is and how easy it can be taken away. I've been desensitised to it for a long time but once it was the man I loved in that situation - I can't act normal. I feel like I'm deteriorating and nothing can stop it until I know that Spencer is out if surgery and safe."

JJ quickly moved next yo Y/N as both she and Alex comforted her as he body began to shake with sobs. Y/N felt like everything was closing in on her. JJ shushed her as her hand was rubbing up and down Y/N's back. After a while Y/N began to calm down. Her face was red and puffy, she for sure did not look attractive in that moment.

***

Not too long after JJ left to go and work the case. Y/N was told not to continue on it and be there for Spencer - and also considering the state she was in, she wasn't fit to work anyway. She was now left with Alex and Penelope. Y/N was glad to have Penelope around since the blonde could always make a smile appear on her face. Penelope Garcia was like a guardian angel.

Speaking of angels, a doctor had come into the waiting room. Y/N immediately clocked her and shot up from her seat. Her legs were slightly wobbly due to her sitting in the same position for however long she was. But Y/N didn't care, she needed to know is Spencer was okay.

As she approached the doctor, a small smile grew on her face causing Y/N to fill with hope.

"The surgery went well and he's in recovery," It was in that moment where Y/N almost ascended to heaven. Spencer was alive. Her Spencer was alive and was okay.

"I can show you to his room if you would like." Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. She was elated. All the worry had dissolved from her body and was filled with happiness.

The doctor led her, Penelope and Alex to the room where Spencer was in recovery. Every step Y/N took, the closer she was getting to Spencer. The doctor stopped in front of the room and gestured for the three to go in.

Y/N rushed in first. Spencer was sleeping on his bed. His head was slightly tilted to the side, his lips parted and hair messy. She walked to the chair beside his bed and took a seat. He looked peaceful in his sleep, a completely contrast to the last time Y/N had saw him when he was loaded into the ambulance.

Y/N took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. She brought his hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. Spencer was okay, all that was left was for him to wake up.

***

The next thing Y/N knee was being shook awake. She groaned and slowly opend her eyes. For a moment she forgot where she was but then remembered as soon as she saw the hospital bed. She looked up and saw Penelope, who had shaken her awake. She had a smile on her face.

"Look who's awake?" Penelope said, looking to the hospital bed.

Y/N looked over at the bed and Spencer's eyes were open and he was staring at Y/N lovingly. Even though he was still a little drowsy and spaced out, he still thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"Spence." Y/N spoke quietly.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Penelope said before leaving the room.

"Hey." Spencer said, his voice was raspy and sounded like how it did in the morning - Y/N loved it.

"You're okay, thank god." Y/N sighed, placing another kiss to his hand.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, squeezing her hand slightly.

Y/N let out a small chuckle, "You literally just got shot in the neck and you ask if I'm okay."

"You're eyes are bloodshot, they're red around the outside, your cheeks are puffy and-"

"Okay, okay, you don’t need to profile that I've been crying, it's obvious - even to someone who isn't a profiler." Y/N said, standing up. She hovered over him and placed a soft kiss to his lips before sitting back down.

"What was that for?" Spencer questioned.

"Because you're alive," Y/N stated, "I thought you were going to die Spence. When you stated at me before you were taken into the ambulance, I thought that was the last time I would ever see you alive."

"Y/N, look at me," Spencer said and Y/N looked up from their joint hands to his face, "Do you feel me?" Y/N nodded, "Can you feel my pulse?" Y/N nodded again, "Am I alive?" Y/N nodded a final time, "Then there's nothing to worry about." Spencer gave Y/N's hand another squeeze.

Y/N smiled and rubbed her thumb over Spencer's knuckles. He was real. He was here. And most importantly, he was alive.

"I was doing some thinking." Y/N started.

"About what?" Spencer said, getting slightly worried.

"About us."

"What about us?" His worry increased slightly.

"I realised how short life is and how easy it is to be taken away and I thought why wait."

"Wait for what?" Spencer asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I want a family," Y/N confessed, "I want to start a family with you Spencer."

Spencer's heart felt like it could jump out of his chest. Ever since he had met Y/N, he knew that she was the one. The one he would love. The one he would cherish. And the one he knew he would grow old with. There was no other person he would want to start a family with other than Y/N.

"I thought you weren't ready?" Spencer questioned. Even though right now he was internally jumping for joy, he didn’t want Y/N to feel pressured into doing anything.

"Well I am now. Life us short, why wait?" Y/N said.

Spencer smiled. His heart felt like it had expanded three times the size it usually was. He was going to start a family with Y/N. However there was one thing he wanted to do before.

"Can you do me a favour?" Spencer asked.

"Anything."

"Can you go in my trousers pocket and grab the box that's in there?"

Y/N nodded and began to rummage through his belongings bag. She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Y/N was frozen. Only one piece of jewellery came in a box like this. She was stunned. She knew she wanted to start a family with Spencer, there was no other person she would want to start a family with. However, he had no idea he would propose, especially not now.

"Is this what I think it is?" Y/N asked, her voice slightly unsteady.

"Open it." Spencer said smiling.

Y/N complied to Spencer's request and opened the small box. Inside was a simple diamond ring but it was the perfect ring for Y/N. Tears began to brim Y/N's eyes as she stared at it.

Spencer reached forward, signaling to Y/N to pass him the box. She placed the box in his hand and he took the ring out and held it to her.

"Y/N, I know that this isn't exactly the circumstance that either of us wanted this to happen, but I wanted to ask you - will you marry me?" Spencer said, "I originally had a big speech planned and I memorised it and everything but I don't think that the situation matches the speech anymore."

Y/N stared at the ring in front of her and the man holding the ring before she nodded, "Yes, yes I will marry you Spencer."

Spencer smiled as Y/N leant forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, this kiss more passionate than the one she had given him when he had woken up. This kiss was filled with pure love and adoration.

Y/N pulled away, smiling bright. Spencer's eyes were filled with pure love as he looked back at Y/N.

"I love you, you know that right?" Y/N mumbled.

"Of course I do," Spencer said, "And I'm one hundred percent sure that you know I love you back - so much."

"I'm not as big of a fan of statistics as you, but that is one statistic I know for definite," Y/N replied, "But promise me one thing."

"What?"

"When we get out of here, I want to hear the full speech you had planned."

Spencer chuckled, "It may take a while, it's five pages long."

Y/N smiled, "I would expect nothing less from you Spencer Reid."

SPENCER REID TAGLIST:

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow

- add yourself HERE or message me to be added or removed -

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler

[moodymelanist]

Girls night ends with Cassian & Azriel having to bail their girls out of jail

Oh this is TOOOOOOOO good lmao. Adding in Emorie as well because you know Emerie would be involved in alllll the shenanigans

this will be my last one for tonight and I’ll pick them back up tomorrow/throughout the rest of the week/forever 💖

Cassian thought he would enjoy a quiet night with his friends while Nesta had a girls night out on the town with Gwyn and Emerie. If only he’d known how hilariously wrong he was.

His night started out normally enough. He was ejected from the bathroom while his girlfriend got ready and she eventually emerged in a tight black dress, with flawless makeup and her hair tied into a high ponytail rather than her usual bun. He thought about teasing her about never changing her hairstyle but her makeup was absolutely flawless, and he figured she’d probably pulled her hair back to keep the attention on that stunning face of hers.

He whistled and tried to convince her to stay in instead and she just rolled her eyes on her way out the door. He told her to have a good time and that he loved her, and she told him she loved him too before racing back in to give him a searing goodbye kiss.

Their apartment felt weirdly quiet without her, so he texted Azriel and Mor to see what they were doing while their girlfriends were also out. Mor suggested they should hang out and have a night in instead of moping around at home by themselves, and within the next thirty minutes he and Mor were both sitting in Azriel and Gwyn’s living room eating pizza.

The hours went by in a blur as they caught up and laughed over various card games - Egyptian Ratscrew, Bullshit, and even two games of Spit while Azriel went to the bathroom. At one point they tried to convince Rhys to come over, but he had always been an old man at heart and spent five minutes cursing them out for daring to disturb his slumber.

Once the clock moved past midnight, things started to wind down. Cassian started wondering when Nesta would be ready to come home; he was having a great time with his friends, but seeing his girlfriend drunk was one of the most adorable things he’d ever seen and he didn’t want to miss more of it than he already was.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, his phone lit up with a picture of her from a phone call.

“Hello?” he answered. He immediately pulled the phone away from his ear because of how loud the background noise was. “Nes, where are you? It’s really loud.”

“Would you be mad,” she began, her voice slurred, “If I told you I just got arrested?”

“You what?”

—————

When the three of them finally arrived at the Velaris precinct, he could hear Nesta yelling from the front office. Something about how she was a lawyer and knew her rights and how she should be released right fucking now.

Sighing, he made his way to the counter and told the guy working he was here for Nesta Archeron.

“Your girlfriend’s a piece of work,” the guy grumbled. Cassian held his tongue and grabbed the clipboard, walking away so Azriel and Mor could grab their own clipboards.

“What do you think they did?” Mor whispered once they were seated. The chairs in here were uncomfortable by design and Cassian hoped they could get out of here relatively quickly.

“It’s the three of them together. Who knows,” he whispered back.

Eventually all the right paperwork was assembled and they just had to wait. It was another twenty minutes before he got to see Nesta again, and he didn’t waste any time before he was hugging her and making sure she was alright.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, waving him off. He wholeheartedly disagreed with her assessment - her dress was ripped in strange places, her hair was loose and frizzy around her shoulders, and one of her heels was missing a heel. Her friends didn’t look much better, with Gwyn’s mascara running in streaks down her face as she cried about her phone being broken and Emerie inexplicably missing both her shoes.

When they made it outside the precinct, Azriel spoke up first. “Can someone tell us what the hell you three did to get arrested?”

“Vandalism!” Gwyn said cheerily. She swayed alarmingly on her feet before her boyfriend swooped in to catch her.

“Vandalism?” Mor repeated, frowning in confusion. She had her arm solidly wrapped around Emerie’s waist as their group continued walking down the block to where Cassian, Azriel, and Mor had Parker.

“Vandalism,” Emerie confirmed. “Really, it wasn’t our fault. Stupid assholes should’ve left us alone.”

“Was someone bothering you?” Cassian asked. He looked down at Nesta, who he was carrying bridal style back to the car, and her expression was stormy.

“We were about to leave for a different bar and these guys started yelling at us,” she said. “So we may have egged their car.”

Everyone was bewildered by that statement, especially Cassian. “Where the fuck did you get eggs?”

“There’s a 7/11 right down the block from Rita’s,” Gwyn said, giggling. “We went and bought some eggs and they were still there when we got back.”

“If they’d just shut the fuck up, we wouldn’t have egged their car,” Nesta grumbled. “But they didn’t, so we egged it. And they called the cops.”

“They called the cops over three drunk women?” Azriel said.

“Yep,” Emerie said, popping the p at the end of the word. “Cops said it was vandalism and took us to the station.”

“It’s only a misdemeanor,” Nesta added helpfully. “Just have to pay restitution.”

“How are you drunk and you still remember legal words?” Azriel asked. He met Cassian’s eye and gave him an exasperated look, but Cassian was long-used to Nesta still somehow knowing everything even while shitfaced.

“Better question: what the hell does restitution even mean?” Mor said.

#acotar #acosf #nessian #Gwynriel #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #Emorie #emerie of illyria #morrigan #restitution means you pay for whatever damages you caused #nessian prompts

[silver-weasel]

Lonely Together (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing : Bakugou x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut, introvert!reader, p*rn with a bit of plot, p*rn with feelings (ig?), both Baku and reader being bratty little fucks, him talking like a sailor because it’s OOC if he’s not

Word count : 7734 [AO3]

Summary : Mina is having a birthday party tonight. You're a bit reluctant but you're going anyway, you promised after all. You do have one good reason to be there though. Maybe even more than you think.

A/N : Thank you again @hoe-doroki​ for beta reading <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY

“So, you’re all still coming tonight, right?” Mina asked.

Your mind went blank when you saw everyone nodding, and you only gave big round eyes and an ‘o’-shaped mouth as an unspoken answer to Mina's question. Then, she addressed you directly:

“You didn’t forget, did you?” Mina’s eyebrows raised up to her hairline, though the look in her eyes told you she expected this. Well, she should by now.

“I actually never heard about this,” you retorted with a deadpan look.

“You said you were coming yesterday!” Her irritated voice hit a few notes higher like it always does when she’s upset.

“Did I? Huh…” You silently cursed your auto-pilot mode (the one that activates as soon as your mind drifts away from the crowd), so sharp it even answers the questions you’re asked without your say-so now. “I’ll be there, Mina, don’t worry,” you added with a smile you hope looks reassuring enough.

“You better! At least, he’ll be there.”

“There you go again,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

“Took me forever to get him to say yes,” she continued, shamelessly ignoring your consternation. “That guy’s such a pain in the ass.”

You’ve been sitting there on the edge of your bed for a while now, still wrapped in a fluffy towel with your hair dripping on your bare shoulders. The image of your overflowing dresser starts to blur, your vision handing the reins to your anxious mind.

What the fuck am I gonna wear? I didn’t even get my bare minimum of three days of mental preparation for this.

Ever since your UA years, Mina always tried so hard to make sure you and Bakugou, Class A’s official certified introverts, got your asses dragged into every stupid party the class was throwing. She never managed to do anything about the both of you always being the first two to leave, though.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen Bakugou, or any other boy from the class for that matter. Being dispatched to a lot of different agencies, and having impossible schedules, you all get very few occasions to meet outside of work. Tonight, Mina’s birthday, is one of these occasions.

You find yourself impatient to see him. Sure, your interactions have always remained basic: a quick glance exchanged while crossing paths in the hallways of UA, or the usual polite greetings (from your part at least, more of a short grunt from his) the few times you’ve seen him at work. But every single one of these interactions left a significant mark on you.

After a while of staring into space, cursing every single piece of clothing you own, you finally settle for a simple black dress with thin straps that hugs your body just right and falls right above your ankles. It’s comfortable, flattering enough and doesn’t require a bra underneath. It’ll have to do for tonight. You also grab some of your favorite panties: some classic shaped, cotton, white and soft blue striped ones with a little blue bow. Nothing fancy, but very cute, and oh well, fuck—sexy. You’re sick of spending these parties walking funny because you’ve got a stupid piece of lace rubbing on places it shouldn’t be rubbing.

You text Momo when you’re finally ready. She and Kyouka come to pick you up in front of your house fifteen minutes later. It’s about a thirty minute drive, and everyone’s already there when you arrive. The entirety of class A is here—that’s rare—along with a few other people from UA.

Mina rented a beach house for her birthday because she’s that extra. A good part of her salary went to this and now she can’t eat anything but ramen for the next two months. You should know because you’re the one person she rants on and on about it to.

The sun’s only beginning to set and you take a second to take the view in. Almost everyone is outside on the patio, either sitting at a table or leaning against the railing. In front of the house there isn’t any path, any trees—nothing but sand and blue water as far as the eye can see, shining under the last rays of sunlight.

Soon enough, Momo and Jirou peel away from you and you’re standing alone, quite awkwardly, in the middle of the patio. You spot Ochako waving to you as if throwing you a lifeline—it sure feels like it. She’s sitting at a table outside with Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki. You greet everyone and sit next to the latter, trying to catch up with the conversation. Ochako is relating her patrol adventures from today, a story you already heard back at training. Everyone is listening with attention, especially Midoriya, his bright eyes widening in fascination. He’s being his usual straight-up fanboy, looking at her like she’s found the cure to cancer. From here, it’s hard to believe he’s the only hero from your generation to have already reached the top 10.

Well, one of the only two. It was only a matter of time until you found yourself looking for the other. You don’t search for long; you soon find him perched on the patio railing, about as focused on the conversation around him as you are. Conversation isn’t exactly the right word for what’s going on, though—namely Kaminari, already half-wasted, flaunting his shenanigans in front of equally drunk Kirishima and Sero laughing ear-splittingly. Bakugou is looking at the sea, his beer from before still in his hand since he barely drank half of it.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a black button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up his forearms, and his hair its usual explosive mess. The half-drunk beer in his hand seems to have been there for a while now. Just as handsome as ever—even more, actually. His features are relaxed, his gaze deeply focused, half on the sun setting on the sea before him, half on whatever is going on through his mind. He looks so calm, far from the Tasmanian devil you used to know back at UA. Well, he still has his feral moments, but he’s grown a lot. The sad thing is, you’re not sure the others have been as observant as you are.

It’s been a while since you last saw him. Seeing his face, more than anyone here, causes a lot of things to surge back from the depths of your memories: the peculiar color of the leaves on this one tree just outside your classroom, that you were stubbornly fixated on  in order not to stare at him in the middle of class and get Aizawa to make some embarrassing remark about it. The consistent hubbub in the cafeteria hiding your flustered attempts at bringing an end to Mina’s teasing giggles and wiggling eyebrows. The smell of sweat in the hallway of UA’s gym after training, watching him enter the boys locker rooms, not even waiting to be fully inside to take his shirt off.

It’s only when he turns his gaze towards you that you realize you were very much staring at him in a very creepy way. His crimson eyes lock with yours for only a paralyzing second before you break the contact, feeling like you could die from just the heat creeping up your cheeks and your entire face.

God...what am I, fifteen again?

You’re saved by the bell in the form of Mina proudly (and quite vociferously) declaring her legendary cocktail ready for consumption.

It’s not far from 2AM when your social abilities reach their limit. Everyone relocated in the living-room at some point. You’re having fun, the music’s nice, your friends are—well, true to themselves: Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero and Tooru are dancing their lives out in the middle of the spacious living room. Kyouka, Momo, Iida and Todoroki are chatting at a table while Ochako is using her quirk on Midoriya so she can drag him on the dancefloor, despite his polite protestations and his face reaching a disturbing shade of red.

But you find yourself craving quiet, some precious calm and peace, and your legs head outside with a mind of their own. The air is cool, feels relieving against your skin, still hot from the oppressive atmosphere inside. You wander around the now completely empty patio. The thumps of your shoes against the hardwood floor can be heard over the distant hubbub inside, the strong beat of music and your friends’ drunken laughter. You reach the creaking stairs leading down to the beach and you just stand there for a moment, alone with this gigantic drink Ochako forced into your hands ten minutes ago, that you still haven’t dared to taste. 

Your eyes take a few seconds adjusting to the obscurity of the beach, contrasting with the bright lights on the patio behind you. You can barely hear the comforting white noise of waves over the music, but you can still appreciate the dark, beautiful view of the moonlight reflecting on the sea. Taking a deep breath, your gaze drifts on the vast expanse of the beach and soon spots a figure sitting in the sand on the right. You don’t even need to see his face; you know he got tired of the party long before you did.

You take off your shoes and pad down the stairs. The sand is cool now, far from the scorching heat of the day, and you enjoy the feel of your toes sinking into its chilly embrace. When you reach him, he hasn’t noticed your presence yet. You just stand there for a second, unsure of what exactly you intended when you walked down those stairs and directly towards him. Maybe he wants to be alone. Maybe there’s a reason why he’s sitting there all by himself, away from the crowd. But your inhibitions don’t get the chance to stop you before you speak:

“Enjoying some fresh air?”

Maybe it’s just about escaping from the heat inside. Maybe it’s about escaping more than that. You’re not even sure yourself, but you trust him to understand anyway. He turns around and looks up at you, his piercing eyes unusually round: you can tell he’s surprised to see you, specifically. He was probably expecting pretty much anyone else to come bother him: Kirishima, Mina, Kaminari, even Midoriya. He’s still looking up at you but doesn’t say anything, so you ask with a bit of hesitancy in your tone:

“Can I join?”

“Sure. Whatever,” he says in his usual flat tone before turning back around.

You crouch and sit cross-legged next to him, setting your shoes down next to you. Neither of you talk for a while. The party sounds distant behind you now, only a slight disruption in the silence and over the soothing sound of the light waves eating up the sand. You’re sipping your cocktail mindlessly, basking in the dark expanse of the sea, calm and unmoving. You’re a bit startled when, unexpectedly, he breaks the silence first:

“How’s the cocktail?”

“Tastes like shit,” you answer with a quiet laugh. He gives out a low chuckle before taking a sip of his beer.

“Raccoon Eyes has very few talents and mixology is not one of them.”

“I don’t even know if we can call it that. She just grabbed the first few things she could lay her hand on, mixed it, drowned it all in alcohol and called it a cocktail.”

He chuckles again, and there’s another silence. You add as an afterthought:

“Our ungrateful asses are still lucky there’s someone like her to keep the class together despite our adult lives, so we don’t lose—” you make a random gesture behind you, pointing at the loud mass that is your group of friends, “—this.”

“This is some fucking noisy mess, though.”

You grin, looking down at your toes wiggling and burying into the sand. “Hm. Knew you’d say something like that.”

“So you’re saying I’m predictable?” He’s looking at you for the first time since he spoke first, his right eyebrow raised up in challenge.

“I don’t know. A little bit?” You’re feeling reckless and prepare to get your head blown off. But he’s not so predictable, this time, because he just lets out a brief snicker and turns his eyes back to the sea.

“Tch. Little shit.”

Another silence.

“I really love them. But sometimes, I really enjoy the calm too.” You shoot a glance at the others through the open doors and catch Momo talking with Todoroki. “Momo seems to be having fun, I don’t want to bother her.”

“What, you came with Ponytail?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna be a pain,” you say, resigned. “I can wait a few hours.”

“Oh, so you little weakling can’t walk home by yourself?” he scoffs.

“12 miles. That’s a pretty long walk,” you answer in a flat tone.

“Are you a hero or not?”

“What does that have to do with anythi—”

“Jesus, if it’s a ride home you want, all your dumb ass has to do is ask,” he says, rising up and rubbing the sand off his pants. You’re still seated, looking up at him dumbstruck.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

”What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“A huge one?” you answer fearlessly while rising. You’re now standing, but he’s still towering over you, shooting you a chilling look. You catch a sparkle of bright red when the patio lights hit the side of his eye.

“Careful, sweetheart, I can still let you walk home by yourself.” His deep voice echoes through your entire being and you feel heat coat your cheeks at the unusual nickname. You glance over at the house with a quiet gulp.

“You think we can sneak out of this before they see us?”

“It’s doable. We can go through these bushes over there,” he points at a brambly path skirting the house, “and set our drinks on the patio on the way so Raccoon Eyes doesn’t give us shit about it later.”

“But I’m gonna ruin my dress!” you whine.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises a scornful eyebrow, then turns around with his hands in his pockets and strides towards the bushes. You scramble behind him, only now noticing the heat has yet to leave your cheeks, and probably won’t any time soon.

You both stay silent for the entire ride. He doesn’t put any music on, and you don’t mind; you’re almost grateful for it. It doesn’t feel awkward—it’s quite the opposite. You appreciate being able to enjoy the calm of the night, the purring of the engine and the night breeze on the skin of your forearm resting on the window.

Everything feels in place. You enjoy the comforting quiet of him, and you suppose he enjoys yours. You turn your head slightly so you can take a little look at him without being too obvious. You feel privileged to catch a glimpse of what he’s like when he’s alone: silent, his features relaxed, neutral. It’s a bit strange to witness but still feels very much like him. You know this is just a part of him he usually tries to conceal.

His eyes are on the road, but he seems to be somewhere else. You wonder what he’s thinking. You’re not discreet enough; he must have felt your eyes on him so he turns to look at you for a brief moment, though keeping his focus on the road. You feel your face heat up in shame and only hope he doesn’t think you’re some kind of creep. There you are, acting all flustered at a boy looking at you like some fourteen year old with a crush.

Half of this is true, though; you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you’ve known him. But damn. In the dark of the night, with the wind ruffling his hair, he looks surreal. His profile is a whole piece of art. He doesn't face you but his eyes...he looks focused. On everything really, not just driving. Focused on life, always thinking, never taking a minute to rest. His nose has this cute curve you want to nip at so bad. His mouth looks so kissable when it’s not twisted in some kind of tantrum he feels like throwing. You turn your eyes to the night sky before he catches you staring again. It’s magnificent—the moon shines bright along with so many stars above the passing trees and still you don’t feel like looking at the stars right now.

You’re gently pulled back to reality when you leave the countryside road and enter the residential area you live in, just outside the city. More and more street lamps line up the road down the hill. You go through the last few blocks before your street and you have to guide him since he’s never come to your place.

He finally parks in front of your little house. Your street is barely lit, the dense trees filtering most of the city lights. When he turns down the engine, you shift to look at him. He’s looking back at you, half-turned to face you.

You should thank him and get out of his car, go home, lock the door behind you and go to sleep. Alone. So you don’t really grasp why you don’t do that—the idea just feels wrong.

You stay still in your seat, trying to think of something to say but nothing comes. He doesn’t say anything either, just looks back at you. He’s so unreadable, but for a second, just a second, you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You want to believe it’s desire, but you’re not quite sure. You’re not sure of what’s going on in his mind.

However, you are sure of a few other things: you’re sure you’ve been pining for him for almost a decade now. You’re sure he’s not gonna be a huge dick if he ends up rejecting you. You’re sure he looks absolutely breathtaking here, in the dark of the night with a thin ray of light backlighting his beautiful features. And you’re definitely, desperately sure you want to kiss him right now.

So you do. Without thinking, you lean towards him and take his lips in yours.

Although you made the first move, it instantly feels like he’s the one kissing you, and you’re greedily taking all he has to offer. The kiss is slow, but passionate nonetheless: he dominates you immediately without even trying. He tastes a bit like beer, but mostly like those hot, sweet pastries you wait all year round to eat at Christmas, coated with cinnamon and with a meltingly soft caramel core. Maybe it’s his quirk, maybe it’s because you always imagined—always wanted him to taste like this. Nothing could have prepared you for the real deal though.

He sucks at your lower lip like it’s candy, giving it a soft lick and you open your mouth for him to take over. His tongue brushes yours gently at first, then more boldly. Before you know it, your mouth is all claimed territory, all his to do whatever he pleases with. You try to keep up, nipping a bit at his lip, and when he groans low in your mouth, that’s when you realise your hands moved with a mind of their own: one to grip his shirt tight, the other to grab the hair at his nape. Your nails scratch a bit there, and a high-pitched whimper escapes you when he reaches up to do the same.

The position is quite awkward since you’re leaning above the gearshift, but you can only think about the heat that overwhelms you: the heat of the summer air around you. The heat of his lips, of his breath crushing against yours. The heat seizing your cheeks all the way to your ears because, although you’ve saved so many people and fought so many villains, you’ve never been this brave in your entire life. The heat creeping in the most intimate depths of your body at the feel of his tongue taking over your entire being. And fuck, do you want him to take everything of and about you; you’re willing to give it all to him.

You only notice your world felt so full when it feels empty again as he parts from you. He backs away slowly, not all of a sudden, taking the time to take you in, to light some embers and throw them on your soul without any mercy.

Wow, you’ve never felt that empty of intelligence, he really kissed you dumb. Apparently you can only act on instinct instead of reason tonight, so you don’t take a second to think before asking:

“You wanna come inside?”

There’s a silence. A long silence. The longest of your entire life, probably. He just looks at you, doesn’t say a word, and you want a hole to appear and swallow you. Clearly there’s something in his eyes, and maybe you could grasp it if you really looked. But you don’t want to, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for tonight. So you just babble:

“Hum, please forget I asked. Thanks for the ride. See ya!”

You scramble out of the car and slam the door, your eyes furiously fixed on the ground. It’s a second slam of a door that makes you look up. He’s out and rounds the car with his hands in his pockets, only to stop next to you without leaving your gaze.

“Lead the way,” he says with a slight nod towards your front door.

You do as you’re told, and he’s towering right behind you when you reach the door to your house. You can feel his body heat ghost over your back, overwhelming as you fumble with your keys for a second. You finally open, enter first and hold the door for him, his sweet smell a whiplash effect on your face when he brushes your shoulder on his way in. You close the door, drop your bag there on the floor and you both take a few seconds to take your shoes off. When you turn around, he’s facing you, his hands stuffed back in his pockets and his intimidating gaze fixed on you.

“So, do you…want a drink or something?” you stutter with a weak smile.

You only get a sly smirk for an answer, and he edges towards you until your back hits the door. He’s never been that close to you. You’re not even sure anyone has ever been that close to you. You feel deliciously trapped, gently cornered against your door. It sucks the oxygen right out of your lungs, the way he’s crowding your space like his own.

He finally digs one hand out of his pocket and his fingers reach up to graze your cheek, your jaw, then lock around your chin. A soft but firm hold on what’s left of your inhibitions. You would look him in the eyes if you weren’t so obsessed with his lips and the way they slightly part while he’s watching you fall apart for him.

He’s the one joining your mouths this time. He must feel your heart beating against his lips at this point, because you sure can feel it try to escape your chest through your throat.

He’s a bit rougher now; still slow, but pushes and pulls against and off your lips in a series of glorious little noises. You can taste a bit of beer in his mouth, but it’s his exquisite scent that’s engulfing your entire world right now; it’s all over you, it makes you feel his. It’s not so much his cologne but the way his skin seizes it to create something new, something sweet. It makes your head spin in all the best ways.

You’re beginning to understand why he’s been keeping his hands in his pockets obstinately. Now they’re everywhere, running all over you with a sense of urgency, like he’s been keeping himself from doing this for way too long. One grabs the back of your neck, thumbing at the skin right under your ear, moves down your shoulder, your arm, and back up again. He rests the other at your hip, heads lower then; exploring your thigh, clenching tight around the fabric of your dress, holding it up above your knee. A shiver races up your spine when the skin of his hand finally meets that of your thigh. Eventually remembering that you also have hands, and that it’s about time you start using them, you hold onto his shoulders, clutching and creasing the dark fabric of his shirt in your fingers.

You can feel his strength caging you whole, pushing you harder against the door.  You can’t escape, as if you would ever want to. It sends a flash of electricity down between your legs and pulls a pleased moan out of you. You can feel him smirk against your mouth. He breaks the kiss, only to whisper low against your lips: 

“Eager, are we, sweetness?”

You mostly feel embarrassed, but God do you love it when he talks to you like this—it makes you feel weak, makes you want to get down on your knees for him. He doesn’t need to know that though.

“Shut up,” you just retort with a grin, before grabbing him by the hair and pulling him down to crash against your lips again. You don’t really know who devours the other, but his tongue caressing the roof of your mouth is driving you crazy. He breaks the kiss again and has you whining in impatience, but he’s not going far, just looks you in the eyes while your foreheads join and your noses brush, your panting breaths crashing against each other’s mouth.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

You barely get the time to nod in the general direction of your room before he lifts you up on his shoulder like you weigh nothing, without the slightest bit of gentleness. You let out a squeal of surprise, soon followed by a laugh, your head hanging by the small of his back. You can at least enjoy the nice round view of his ass in his perfectly fitting jeans, it’s a win-win.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, you know.”

“Shut up, I’m a fucking gentleman,” he snarls.

Reaching the footboard of your bed, he throws you on it with just as much elegance. You bounce on the mattress with a giggle, which doesn’t last when he crawls over you like a starving feline.

He takes over your lips again, dominating you with so much ease you’re starting to wonder if he wasn’t born to be on top of you, breaking you apart. He lets his lips drag over to your jaw, your neck, a gentle smooth over your sensitive skin. He bites and licks and sucks like a starved man, and you can’t help but moan under his sweet ministrations. He’s nipping at your ear, groaning directly into it when you finally put your hands at use.

You start with the first button of his shirt but take your time all the way down. You revel in this incredible feeling of undressing Bakugou Katsuki, pro-hero Dynamight, like you would unwrap a stunning Christmas gift. You indulge yourself with the teasing brush of your knuckles and fingertips against his scorching hot skin. You feel the muscles clench there, and he blesses you with a little noise in your ear, somewhere between a groan and a moan. You don’t know what that is, but fuck do you want to hear it again.

His skin is now free and all yours to run your hands flat on, over his abs and all the way up to his chest. You can feel his impressive strength resonate against the delicate skin of your hands—it’s mesmerizing. He swifts away from you and gets up on his knees to whip off his shirt and throw it in some corner of your room. Soon he’s back on you and delves straight into your neck, pushes a thin strap of your dress down your shoulder and grazes his lips over your collarbone. 

His hand strokes the length of your leg and gently rides your dress higher and higher up your thigh. A little detail pops at the back of your mind like a fierce whiplash and you flinch a bit under him, which makes him freeze right away.

“What is it?” He sounds unsure now, has this look in his eyes like a kid who’s broken something fragile. “You know I can stop if you’re not comfortable with this,” he says with a frown, carefully backing up and away from you.

“No, it’s not that—I really want this!” you reassure him—the last thing you want is to stop this. “I just didn’t think we were gonna…you know—”

“We were gonna what?” he teases with a crooked smirk, amused by your embarrassment. You choose to ignore both his question and the heat pooling deep in your belly at his puckish voice.

“Hum. You know…My underwear is not exactly what you would expect.”

The look on his face shifts utterly. His red, hypnotizing eyes go round and his lips part a bit in what seems to be confusion. It’s strange to see his angular features curve in such a childish expression.

“The fuck? That’s what this is about?” He’s dumbfounded, his voice reaching a bit higher than usual. Now you’re not even sure why you were anxious in the first place. “I don’t give a flying shit about your underwear. Don’t give me this self-conscious bullshit, I’m not having any of that. Now if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it.” You don’t even think before you answer, you don’t have to.

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good.”

He dives down on you to kiss you again so you can focus on his lips when his hand pulls your dress all the way up your waist. The fabric dragging against your skin leaves shivers in its wake. He parts away to take a look at you, and stays up on his knees in silence, fixing your waist and your underwear for a solid ten seconds. You inhale quietly, you want to say something, but he cuts you right off:

“No, shut up. You’re hot as fuck. And this?” He hooks a finger in the elastic of your underwear, “this is so fucking cute.”

His fingertips trail over the cotton fabric of your panties right below your clit and he might as well have set you on fire. The air is fresh at night and still you feel like you’re floating near the sun right now. His hand brushes up your waist as he leans down and kisses your stomach, your dress riding up with his every action.

The hem slides up past the bound of your breasts, and he doesn’t seem surprised to note you weren’t wearing any bra. Maybe he noticed earlier in the night, maybe he’s attentive to this kind of detail. The idea of him imagining what you’re wearing—or not wearing—underneath your dress makes you feel giddy; you only want to answer all the questions he might have been asking himself, to show him everything he’s willing to know about you.

He takes one of your breasts in his huge hand and drags his soft lips back up to kiss your neck, not even bothering to take your dress fully off. You moan quietly, feeling him kissing all his way back down to your underwear. Soon enough, there isn’t a single part of your torso, from your neck to the hem of your panties, that he hasn’t touched with his lips. He’s gotta taste everything, every bit of you, like he’s in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

When he reaches your panties again, he shoots you a challenging look, an unspoken ‘don’t you dare get embarrassed’. He spreads your thighs wider and delves face first between your legs. You can’t repress the breathy gasp that escapes you when you feel his teeth close around the drenched fabric—his nose hitting your clit while at it—and pull your panties down your thighs by the mouth, until the angle of your spread legs prevents him from going further. He finishes off with his actual hands and you can’t help but burst out laughing at his—peculiar—way of undressing you.

“Oh my God,“ you try to speak clearly but you’re laughing a bit too hard to articulate properly. “Who does that?”

“Fuck you. That’s how much I love your panties,” and his actions say the exact opposite as he throws the miserable piece of cotton to some corner of your room without giving it a second look.

“You’re an animal,” you giggle, trying hard to catch your breath.

He doesn’t laugh with you, of course he doesn’t, but the little amused grin it still elicits from him warms your body in all sorts of places. It makes you want to nip at this little grin so bad. You sit up and you’re now facing him, the both of you standing on your knees.

You make a show of shedding your dress over your head and let it slip down your arm to crash on the floor. You’re fully nude in front of him, only covered by the warm, tender embrace of his gaze wandering all over you. He stays quiet while he devours you just with his eyes. You get a bit closer to him, until your noses brush and your foreheads join, never breaking eye contact. His body heat is back all over you, devastating, all-consuming.

He hisses a bit, his gorgeous face tensing in a light frown as you drag your hands down the gorgeous valleys of his abs, scratching your nails a bit there. You trail down to his belt, unbuckling it easily, and zip his fly down. He lets go of you for a second so he can get rid of his pants and boxers in one go. You don’t get the chance to see much before he’s right back against you; his hands circle the small of your back in a swift move and he pulls you urgently against his chest.

It’s almost violent the way your bodies collide, like two waves crashing against each other. Once again, his hands are all over you. Yours return the favor all too gladly. The way he touches you makes you think he regrets having only two hands. They graze over your stomach, a featherlight touch at first. Slide up your sides and back down, then up again. On your breasts, squeezing there. Circling your back, grabbing your nape, a little too firmly, but he doesn’t seem to even notice. He’s way too caught up in the feel of you. And you’re way too caught up in the feel of him, crowding your entire universe like there’s nothing on this dumb planet that matters aside from his hands on you, his mouth on yours, and his cock trapped between you two.

And God, his cock—you can feel it, hot and swelled and impressive, starting to rut against you because he needs you that bad. You moan at the feeling, grabbing his hair and pulling a bit, but still pushing him harder against your needy, growing whiny mouth. You manage to slip a hand between you two and you don’t even recognize yourself when you grab his cock without any hesitation. Your hand slides down easily as you start to stroke up and down cause he’s drooling pre-cum abundantly by now.

“Ngh, fuck—” He groans like a predator, like he’s not the one with his dignity wrapped up in your pretty little hand.

You move slowly, making the most of it while you can play with him a bit, while he lets you. But Katsuki is not one to let anyone have the upper hand. You know it, he knows it, and you both know it was only a matter of seconds before he would claim his due.

His hand crawls down your core and a single finger parts your dripping folds. He’s nipping at your ear, panting in it as he teases your clit, drawing a loud moan out of you. He’s painfully slow, dragging his tongue on the shell of your ear as he enters you with one finger. It makes your hand still on his cock, and as soon as you become aware of that, you stroke him faster.

Now it’s not a stupid competition, you can assure it’s not. But it damn well looks like one. His finger works wonders in you and is soon joined by another. His thumb is merciless on your clit, he’s got you dripping all over his wrist, curling his two fingers inside like he just knows it’ll drive you insane. And it does. You even feel the bastard smirk against your jaw when you let a long, loud moan of his name escape your swollen lips.

You grab his jaw with your free hand and crush your lips on his, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth and pulling. Looking straight into his eyes as you do, watching his precious guard crumble down when you slide your thumb on his tip repeatedly, and he lets out a drawn-out groan before grabbing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You can’t suppress this teasing grin that stretches your face at that.

“Too much for you already, big boy?”

A second later you don’t grin anymore. You feel small. You’ve never felt so small in your life actually. Something just shifted in his eyes, they’re now piercing right through your soul. You catch a spark of playfulness in them, though, like a tiger playing with a ball of yarn with paws big enough to rip your entire face off. His voice is a low groan, a vertiginous hole you tumble into as he retorts:

“Oh, so now Miss ‘Don’t look at my panties’ is feeling cocky all of a sudden?”

You don’t get a second to take his words in. Two strong hands grab the back of your knees, lift you and drop you on your back with a roughness you’re not sure you find more arousing or more scary. You gasp a squeal of surprise, bouncing on the mattress, before he’s caging you again. His gaze on you is murderous, his smile predatory as he towers you and suddenly he looks—feels—bigger. In less than a second, he’s got an iron hold on both of your hands above your head, and even though you try, there’s no escaping it.

“Thought I told you to be careful, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to piss me off, would you?”

It’s not his fingers that press on your dripping cunt this time. His tip coats in your juices, sliding up to rub against your clit, pulsing at the sweet but rough contact. You whine loudly, your head dropping back on the pillow behind you.

“How about you put that bratty little mouth to good use and tell me where you keep your condoms?” He lowers down on you, traps you a bit more with every inch closer to your naked chest, arched like it’s craving contact, begging him to crush you with his weight. “Unless you want me to fuck you raw and destroy that pretty pussy of yours?”

You feel paralyzed, drowning in desire, and manage to gather your thoughts just to simply answer : “Second drawer of the nightstand.”

He rummages in the drawer and digs out your box of condoms. He lets go of your wrists to open a condom and slip it down his intimidating length. You don’t move your hands while his are busy, though—you know better than that. When he’s ready, he leans down on you and enters you without any more warning, stretching your hole like it has never been stretched.

You can’t see his face as he sinks in, he buries it deep into your neck: nuzzling the sensitive skin there, his messy hair and hypnotizing scent invading your space, his weight deliciously oppressive on your whole body. You hold onto him like your life depends on it, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist, your hands finally moving to roam up his back and into his hair, although he hasn’t even moved yet. You turn your head to him, to take in his scent, burying your nose in his hair and inhaling deeply. You still can’t see his face though, and you’re starting to wonder if there’s something wrong.

“Katsuki?”

Like you turned some switch on, he starts moving, tantalizingly slow. Dragging all his length out of you, and you can feel every inch of it rubbing against your walls. But you still can’t see his face, you can only rely on the sweet breaths that crash against your neck. His hand comes up to bury in your hair, as if to keep you there, keep you from leaving. Soon enough, he quickens the pace and has you a moaning mess pressed against the mattress. You’re now clawing at his back like a cat in heat; you just can’t stop your hands from moving: his neck, his shoulder blades, his waist, even his ass for a moment.

He’s panting in your ear, grabbing everything he can as well: his hand in your hair keeps your head turned so that he has full access to your neck, nipping at the skin and he lets out a groan there. You squeeze everything that gets in your hand, pulling a bit at his hair when he bites a little too hard. His other hand grabs onto the fat of your ass, right beneath your hip, tight enough to leave bruises for the next four days. He hits deeper and deeper inside of you, gets this sweet angle that makes you see stars. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies, you’re glued to each other without even enough space for him to thrust properly. You both don’t really care though, you want him as close as it’s physically possible.

“Katsuki…look at me, please—”

He leaves your neck for the first time since he’s entered you and leans down to kiss you, wet and messy. You kiss him back with every force you have left, out of sync because of the powerful thrusts sinking you repeatedly into the mattress. Your nails dig deeper and deeper in the soft skin of his shoulders and your whole body quakes with pleasure, every single one of your muscles going more taut with every slam of his hips against yours.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here, fuck—”

If you were ever restraining from vocalizing your pleasure, it’s out of the question now. The sounds you make, you can’t suppress them, you can only mewl in his ear—a series of little desperate noises, and you can’t really register when they grew into moans of his name.

“Oh God, Katsuki…Katsuki!”

“That’s it, princess.” A lick at your jaw. “Tell me who fucks you this good.” A kiss at your neck. “Tell everyone in this fucking neighborhood.” A nip at your ear, a bit harder.

He’s pounding savagely into you at this point, and as your palms run flat on his shoulders, you can feel the clawing marks you just left there. That feeling gives you the final push towards your climax. You squeeze around him with a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, swallowing like he can taste your orgasm on the tip of his tongue. He soon dives over the edge right behind you with a tremendous thrust. His hips roll still, riding his high with less and less intent, and more and more abandon.

You still haven’t let go of him yet, still clinging to him like a flustered koala as you both catch your breaths. He crashed on you face first between your breasts, and you only notice after a few seconds. You stay there for a minute, both your panting the only sound filling the room, so you’re a bit startled when he pulls out and he rolls over to the side so he can get rid of the condom.

There’s a bit of a ‘now what’ moment. You’re not sure what he wants to do but again, you’re sure of what you want. You want him to stay.

“I don’t know what you’re…I mean, you...You can spend the night here,” you stutter a bit, not so sure of yourself now. “If you want, I mean. If not, it’s totally fine, I guess—”

“Shut up,” he just says, wrapping an arm around you to press you against his chest, and you happily oblige. Everything feels right, in a way. It feels easy. The silence is comfortable. His chest is comfortable to lay your head on, grazing your fingertips over his stomach absentmindedly. The future is comfortable, seems to be, at least. There’s no uncertainty, everything is crystal clear. It’s safe. It’s him, after all. You feel like you already know about the memories you haven’t shared with him yet. This sweet idea lulls you to sleep. But another one pulls you right back awake all of a sudden.

“Oh God, I should text Momo that I’m home! She must be worried!” He groans at your words, clearly unhappy to have this subject brought up right now.

“You think that bunch of losers even noticed we left?” And his eyes roll up right before he even finishes his sentence, because you’re scrambling out of the bed and to your living-room, right where you left your purse and your phone in it. The screen has you frowning a bit as your eyes struggle to adapt to the sudden light.

16 missed calls. 37 text messages. The last one being a series of eggplant emojis from Kaminari.

You put your phone right back in your purse. You’re craving for quiet still, and there is peace awaiting in the next room. The most wonderful kind of peace, at that. The noisy world can always wait.

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