#( i figured it out on my last life and was just too tired to repeat the level )

[wildflowercryptid]

i've already latched onto dogen as my resident blorbo kiddo in psychonauts so of course the gears in my head are already spinning for what i think he'd be like in his teen & adult years. i wanna see him happy and healthy and also get that pet his parents promised him.

[p0orbaby]

Sinners | Pride

summary: leah had a good game, you show her how proud of her you are

warnings: SMUT 18+, soft sex, too much talk of cabbages…

a/n: the final part of this silly little smutty series, hope you enjoyed !

word count: 1.4k

Lust | Gluttony | Envy | Sloth | Greed | Wrath

-

You’re barely through the hotel room door before Leah is tossing her keys on the dresser like they’ve personally offended her. It’s one of those tiny hotel rooms where you can practically wee while brushing your teeth, and somehow the décor manages to look both clinical and like someone’s grandmother’s living room at the same time. You’re trying to figure out how that’s possible when Leah lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Today was a day,” she says, flopping onto the bed like she’s auditioning for a life insurance advert.

“You were brilliant,” you say, but it comes out flat, like you’re just trying to move the conversation along so you can get to the part where you finally make her feel good. The truth is, she really was brilliant. Like, once-in-a-lifetime brilliant. But the moment feels too small for that much sincerity, so you settle for plopping down beside her and patting her thigh like she’s a good dog.

“Yeah, well,” she says, staring at the ceiling like it’s going to give her all the answers to life. “I’m exhausted”

You turn to look at her, trying to read her expression. She looks tired, sure, but also like she’s carrying the weight of the world on those very capable shoulders of hers. You think about saying something profound, but then you remember you’re you, and instead, you blurt out, “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

She blinks, turning her head to look at you. “What?”

“Yeah,” you say, as if this is the most normal thing to bring up after an award-winning performance. “Last night, you mumbled something about… cabbages?”

She laughs, the sound catching you off guard. “Cabbages? Really?”

“Yep. It was riveting. You were really passionate about it, too. I was half-expecting you to wake up and start giving a TED talk on the virtues of leafy greens”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at her lips now, and you feel like you’ve won some kind of prize.

“And you didn’t wake me up? What if I had important cabbage-related things to say?”

“I’m sure they were life-changing,” you say, “But honestly, you were so cute, I didn’t have the heart”

“Cute,” she repeats, like it’s a foreign word. “I just played ninety minutes of some of the best football of my career and you’re calling me cute?”

“Hey,” you shrug, “I can multi-task. Appreciate your talent and your cuteness all at once. It’s a gift”

She raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly is your plan for this so-called ‘gift’?”

You smirk, leaning in closer, your lips brushing her ear as you whisper, “I’m going to show you just how proud I am of you. And if you’re lucky, I might even throw in a lecture on the superiority of cabbages”

Leah snorts, but you can feel the way her body tenses under your touch, anticipation thrumming just beneath the surface. “You’re ridiculous”

“And yet, here you are, fully consenting to be seduced by said ridiculous person”

“Fully consenting?” She repeats, amusement dancing in her eyes. “That’s some confidence you’ve got there”

“I prefer to call it optimism,” you say, sliding a hand up her thigh, fingers brushing the waistband of her joggers. “But call it whatever you want. Just as long as you let me take care of you”

She doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that intense stare of hers that always makes you feel like she’s stripping away every defense you’ve ever had. It’s unnerving, but also hot as hell, and you’re about three seconds away from ripping her clothes off just to make the feeling stop.

But you don’t. Because this isn’t about you. Not tonight.

“Let me,” you murmur, your hand already slipping beneath her waistband, fingers brushing against her bare skin. “I want to”

Leah sighs, and it’s the kind of sigh that says she’s giving in, but she’s going to pretend like she’s doing you a favor. “Fine. But if this is some kind of elaborate ruse to get out of listening to my cabbage TED talk, I’m going to be really disappointed”

“I promise,” you say, leaning in to kiss her neck, “No vegetables”

She laughs, and it’s the best sound you’ve heard all day. You take that as a win, pulling back just enough to slide her sweatpants down, leaving her in nothing but that damn sports bra that’s seen better days.

“You really should get a new one of these,” you say, fingers tracing the edge of the fabric. “It’s practically a relic at this point”

“Are you seriously going to critique my sports bra right now?”

“I’m just saying,” you murmur, kissing your way down her stomach, “It deserves to be retired. Maybe hung in a museum”

Leah opens her mouth to respond, but whatever sarcastic retort she had dies on her lips as your mouth finds her hip bone, teeth grazing the skin there. You feel her shiver beneath you, and you smile against her skin.

“Relax,” you say, your voice low, soothing. “Let me take care of you”

Leah’s hands find your hair, her fingers threading through it as she pulls you closer. “You talk too much”

“Maybe,” you say, your mouth moving lower, “But I’m really good at other things”

“Prove it”

You smirk, because that’s exactly what you plan to do. You take your time, kissing your way down her body, hands roaming, exploring every inch of her like it’s the first time. Leah’s breath catches when you reach the spot between her legs, and you can feel her anticipation like a tangible thing, thick and heavy in the air.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” you murmur, your breath hot against her skin.

“Shut up,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in her words, just a soft, almost embarrassed laugh.

“Make me,” you counter, and before she can come up with a witty retort, you dip your head down, your tongue slipping between her folds, tasting her for the first time tonight.

Leah’s response is immediate, a sharp intake of breath, her hands tightening in your hair as she arches off the bed. You don’t let up, your tongue teasing her, tasting her, taking in every soft sigh and quiet moan that escapes her lips.

You keep your movements slow, deliberate, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, but not enough to push her over. She’s trembling beneath you now, her body tense with anticipation, and you know she’s close, so close, but you’re not done yet.

“Please,” she breathes, and it’s the closest thing to begging you’ve ever heard from her.

“Please, what?” you ask, your voice muffled against her.

“Just… please”

You could make her say it, make her beg properly, but you’re not that cruel. Instead, you give her what she wants, what she needs, your tongue moving faster, more insistent, until she’s gasping, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

You don’t stop until she’s pulling you away, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body spent and trembling. When you finally pull back, she’s staring at you with something that looks suspiciously like awe, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride in your chest.

“Good?” you ask, because you need to hear it.

“Good?” she repeats, her voice hoarse. “I told you you’re ridiculous”

“Ridiculously good, you mean”

Leah just shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Get up here”

You oblige, crawling up the bed to lay beside her, your arms wrapping around her as she buries her face in your neck. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the feel of her body pressed against yours, and you think this might be your favorite moment of the day.

“Thanks,” she murmurs after a while, her voice muffled against your skin.

“Anytime,” you reply, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you, Leah. You were amazing today”

She doesn’t say anything, just snuggles closer, her hand resting on your chest as she drifts off to sleep, safe and warm in your arms.

You lay there for a while, listening to the sound of her breathing, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against yours. And just before you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but whisper, “I really hope you dream about cabbages again”

Leah doesn’t respond, but you like to think that if she was awake, she would’ve laughed.

[c0eu4]

OP81 | Hard work ☁︎

Summary: After the biggest exam of her entire life, y/n found Oscar in front of her university, waiting for her.

Warning: fluff, anxious reader?

A/N: Just had some inspiration for that after one exam I had and totally fucked up it lol

MASTERLIST requests are open

Her hand hurts, she can't write anymore. Her copies filled with blue pen in front of her, she read it again one last time until the time limit rings.

A weight immediately lifts from her shoulders. She knows she succeeded. She didn't spend nights and days behind her computer, scribbling things on her notepad and repeating her lessons to Oscar for nothing.

She untied her hair down, puts her pens in her pencil case and puts it in her bag. She puts her coat on her back and grabs her copies. She puts her bag on her back, places her copies in the storage area and heads towards the exit of the building.

She closes her coat as she walks, putting on her mittens and shoving her hands in her pockets.

The cold of winter is felt. She pulls up her coat to hide her chin and leaves the building. Her cheeks and nose quickly turn red from the cold as she walks towards the gate.

Once on the other side of it, she walks towards the street which leads to the metro, to return home.

Her friends suggested that they spend time together in their usual little café but she preferred to refuse, knowing that she would be too tired after her exam.

She continues walking a few meters before seeing her boyfriend, leaning against his car, a coffee in his hand and looking at her, a big smile on his face.

She smiles when she sees him and walks more quickly towards him. She takes refuge directly in his arms, on the verge of crying. After all the stress she has accumulated, all the work she has done, she has every right to take a break. He hugged her tightly, warping his warm arms around her waist.

''I'm so proud of you my love.'' She can't help but blush a little more when she hears his compliment, his australian accent still makes her fall in love even more.

She separates from him, taking the coffee that he offers her.

''Don't burn yourself.'' She nodded quickly and took a sip of the warm liquids.

''Thank you baby.'' He kissed her forehead and opened the passenger door for her.

She sits there and Oscar sits next to her, behind the wheel. He starts the engine and drives them to their shared flat.

Throughout the trip, she talks to him about his exam. Passing by the two hundred and thirty three bananas that a man bought in a problem to triangular figures mixing the theorem of Pythagoras and Thales.

He listens to her, without interrupting her, taking advantage of her voice that he hasn't heard all day.

Once home, she continues talking about her exam. She speaks faster and faster and spreads the subject even more. And Oscar feels that it makes her stressed to talk about it.

So he cuts her off, ''Y/n, don't you want to stop talking about that ? You always speak fast when you're stressed.''

She sighed. Not in a disappointing way, but more because she knows that he's right.

''Yeah sorry if I bother you with that.'' She simply says, taking off her shoes and coat.

''You never bother me love. I just said that for you to relax.'' He takes a hanger to hang his and her coat.

They both walk towards the kitchen, she is already taking the milk out of the fridge and him rummaging on the shelf to get two cups.

It's a little ritual that they both have. Every time, when one or the other is stressed, they prepare hot chocolates. Because it's not a secret that Oscar loves chocolate and it's not a secret that y/n loves the feelings of hot liquids.

He puts the cups full of milk in the microwave and takes out the cocoa. She rummages through a shelf and pulls out some little chocolate marshmallow teddy bears.

Once the milk is hot, Oscar adds the cocoa to the two cups and a few teddy bears to his cup.

''I will never be able to understand how you drink your chocolate with teddy bears.'' She always hated putting teddy bears in her chocolate. Not that she doesn't like marshmallows, but she hates anything that's hard and gets mushy (Without a second thought).

''You don't know what you're missing.'' She puts a few bears in her mouth and eats them.

''Na you, you don't know what you're doing.'' He giggles and steals a few bears from her hands to eat it.

''Hey! I'm going to tell Mark what you're doing !''

He kisses her cheeks, putting one of his hands in her lower back, heading her towards the couch. They sit in, they cups of hot chocolate in hand, a warm blanket on them.

She is looking for a new series to watch on Netflix, Oscar eating his teddy bear with his spoon.

When she finally finds something good to watch, she takes a sip of her chocolate and gets a little closer to Oscar.

They end the day like that, in front of their series, cuddling each other.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Fifteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and angst. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : I'm sorry for using the word buttocks. I'm deeply ashamed rn...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Fifteen

Sleeping in until three in the afternoon helped you skip the worst of your hangover, but you didn’t feel any better. In fact you felt like shit.

You hated what you’d done to Matt, hated that you kept dragging Karen into your problems and, most of all, you hated that you kept letting Billy have so much power over you. Something needed to change, you weren’t prepared to carry on that way. You’d reached your lowest point, felt broken in a new and more painful way.

It had to stop.

The idea came upon you slowly, starting as an insidious notion while you were eating breakfast that only seemed to become more insistent as you showered.

You needed to leave.

Every reason you had to stay had evaporated last night. You didn’t belong here with any of them - maybe you didn’t belong anywhere at all. And you were just so so tired of every day feeling so miserable and alone.

Before you really knew what you were doing, you’d stepped out into the penthouse and made your way to the elevator, to the intercom, to your only way out.

The intercom crackled and buzzed far louder than you expected. You hit the button twice and then waited. It was the middle of the day, Lissa was probably sleeping, but impatience got the better of you and you hit the button again. You barely noticed the tears that were rolling down your cheeks, your finger jabbing the button again.

“What are you doing?” 

His voice filled the penthouse and, for a moment, you didn’t dare turn around, you just kept pushing the intercom, over and over, not wanting to face him.

“I said -”

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you finally turned. 

He was right behind you, far too close for comfort. Billy seemed taken aback by your tears and you took that moment of confusion to pull away from him and to start moving back towards your rooms.

“You win,” you told him, barely keeping your voice from breaking. “I’m done. I’m leaving.”

“What?” 

There was hurt in that word, a pain that he didn’t deserve an ounce of pity for but, still, it turned your stomach to think that you might have upset or hurt him in any way. But that was the difference between you and him, you cared about his pain while he barely even seemed to notice yours.

“I’m leaving,” you said again, “I quit.”

“No,” he said like he didn’t understand, like he couldn’t figure out what had led to the decision. 

“No?” You repeated, heartache and anger filling your voice. How dare he try to fight for you now. “You don’t get to tell me no after everything you’ve done to me, Billy.”

“I -” he started and stopped, uncertain which of his many crimes against you that you were most upset about. “I'm sorry. I fucked up, I know I fucked up, but -”

Against your better judgement you stopped dead in your tracks and turned to face him.

“But what? What excuse do you possibly think you have for keeping me prisoner and lying to my friends?” You asked, your voice getting louder each time he made you respond to him. “This is what you wanted.”

“I didn't want this.” His voice rose to match yours, almost frantic. “I just needed time to -”

“What? Find someone else?” You snapped. “Two someone else’s? Did you take them all to bed last night?”

“No,” he answered just as sharply. “I wanted to - before you, I would have - but they aren’t you. You’re the only one I want.”

“Am I supposed to believe that? After all the lies?”

“I just spent the last few weeks trying to get you out of my head, but I can’t.” An uneasy desperation started to fill his voice, every word sounding more fraught than you’d ever heard him. “You’re like sunlight, I - I can’t stop thinking about how you feel and, when I’m not with you, I miss you so fucking much.”

“Stop lying to me!” Your own voice turning just as fraught, hating that he was doing this to you now that you’d made the difficult decision to leave.

You started moving again, getting closer to the door leading to your rooms and, of course, Billy realised that if you reached your bedroom, he wouldn’t be able to follow. When you tried to open the adjoining door, you soon found his hand on it, stopping you. You turned, pressing back against the wood, trying to create some space between you as you glared at him, silently demanding he move.

“Please, just listen to me,” he tried again.

“Why?”

“Because losing you would kill me.”

His confession seemed to suck all the air from the room and, while every rational part of you was screaming at you not to believe him, the way he said it sounded so certain, so raw. 

“You wanted to send me away,” you told him again. “You wanted me to leave.”

“I wanted you to be safe,” he said, his gaze dropping to your broken arm, his voice breaking. “Just look at you, look what I did...”

He’d been so cold and emotionless after it had happened, when he’d first asked you to leave, but hearing him now, seeing the look on his face... you finally understood just how much the situation had fucked him up. It seemed like your decision to leave had unnerved him enough to force some honesty from him.

You couldn’t speak. It felt like all the anger had drained from you and, instead, there was something else inside you, the sort of pain that you couldn’t put a name to. He’d hurt you. Over and over. And you weren’t going to make excuses for him, but now he was finally letting you see how much it had hurt him too, it left you feeling unsettled.

“I thought I could let you go if it meant you’d be safe,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on your cast.

“And now?”

You watched as he took a shuddered breath, tension coiling in his body as he struggled to find the words. The silence seemed to stretch on and all you could hear was the echo of your heart, pounding in your chest. And you knew Billy could hear it too. 

With every second that passed in silence, you started to lose hope.

“You terrify me,” he confessed in a whisper. “Everything about you, the way you make me feel; it’s all terrifying to me. And I can’t - I don’t understand it.”

You didn’t dare speak, wanting him to continue without prompt or provocation. Anything he said had to be because he wanted to say it. This was his chance to finally be honest and lay all of his cards on the table before you left. So, you waited, barely breathing as he seemed to fight with every rational part of himself to say the words.

“I wish I could stop feeling like this. I wish I could just let you go.”

“Why can’t you?” Your voice broke as you tried to hold back a flood of fresh tears. “You don’t want me, so why keep me here?”

“Stop saying that. Of course I want you. It kills me how much I want you,” he told you, still not looking at you, still staring at your arm, his head hung. “But it kills me just as much knowing that I’ll lose you no matter what I do. Even if you stayed by my side the rest of your life, and I’d still have to watch you grow old and slip away from me.”

Your breath caught, realising you’d never thought of it that way. When you’d told him you wanted to stay, you hadn’t been thinking about the future, about spending your life with him. But Billy wasn’t like you, a year to him would seem like nothing in the grand scheme of things. So would your lifetime. 

“You’ll grow old and die, and you’d miss out on so much because of me. There’s so many things I can’t give you… so many things you deserve...”

The thing that hurt most of all was how he’d obviously thought all of it through, how he’d considered what a future together would look like, but he hadn’t once tried to talk to you about it to find out what you wanted.

“I know I can’t keep you, but it’s just -” he let out an agitated huff “- it’s not fair. You’re the one person who makes this life, this existence bearable, and you hate me. You were the best thing to happen to me and I ruined it. I just wanted a little more time...”

Finally he looked up, his jaw clenching uncomfortably, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I don’t want to hurt you again but I don’t want you to go,” he almost pleaded. “Please, don’t go...”

It was your turn to talk, the moment to stick to your guns and tell him you were leaving, but the words just wouldn’t come. Tears were still rolling down your cheeks and you hated how much pain you were both in. Finally, he’d been honest and it was enough to make you wish he’d stuck with his lies.

“Please, say something,” he said after a minute had passed in silence.

“I’m tired, Billy,” you confessed, “I’m so tired of everything always being a fight or an argument...” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I’ve put you through all of this.”

He dared to reach for you, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand, a ghost of a touch. But that touch was a comfort that you had been desperately craving, a comfort that you’d tried to find with Matt the night before, a comfort that you were finally realising only Billy could provide.

“Everything seems so pointless without you,” he muttered.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you felt the exact same way.

You loved him and nothing was going to change that.

Your heart stuttered, your hand slowly turning, cautiously letting your fingers brush against his before lacing them together and taking hold of his hand. A relieved sound escaped him and you felt his fingers tighten around yours.

“I won't hurt you again,” he promised and, this time, you actually believed him.

He reached for your cheek, thumb gently wiping away your tears.

A minute must have passed and neither of you seemed willing to move or pull away, so Billy cleared the distance and kissed you. It was soft at first, a tender reaffirmation and reignition of all the feelings you’d been trying to snuff out. He pressed closer, the kiss eventually turning more heated until his body was against yours and your broken arm was wrapped around him, cast pressing into his back and pulling him against you.

It was a slow descent into frenzy, but you both seemed to know where it was heading.

When he lifted you off your feet, your legs wrapped around him. You barely paid attention to where he was taking you, too caught up in his kiss.

Under different circumstances you might have taken a moment to realise that you were finally seeing his bedroom; you would have paid more attention to the dark and cold colour scheme and the smattering of photographs on the wall, or maybe you would have noticed the large walk-in closet, filled with his suits. But all you saw was the bed and all you wanted to pay attention to was Billy.

He kept kissing you and, by the time he put you down, your legs felt weak.

You both moved on auto-pilot, both needing and wanting so desperately that undressing each other was just a formality. There was no wonderment in slowly uncovering him because you’d seen him so many times and, this time, you were aching for so much more. You barely even pulled back from the kiss to look at him as his shirt, then pants, fell away.

Once you were both down to your underwear, you reached for him, your hand cupping his cock, feeling how it was already throbbing and hard for you, the tip already peeking out from beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers.

“Hummingbird,” he groaned as deft fingers unhooked your bra and pulled it away from you.

His hands slid up your stomach to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and tracing his thumbs over your achingly hard nipples. He kissed you again, languidly and slowly. Your hand cupped him and stroked him through his boxers, earning another groan that you happily swallowed down, his hips moving, gently pressing himself into your touch.

A hand gripped your waist as he slowly guided you backwards. When you felt the bed against the back of your legs, you moved, climbing onto it and pulling him with you, 

You fell back, legs instinctively parting for him, allowing him to settle between your thighs. He tested the water by pressing his hips down against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against you.

“Billy,” you gasped, arching your body into his.

“What do you need, hummingbird?” He asked, though you were already certain that he knew the answer.

“You, Billy,” you answered, already breathless, “I need you.”

He reached down between your bodies, cupping you through your panties, biting his lip when he felt just how wet they were. Billy didn’t bother trying to remove them, he settled for tearing them away from your body.

“You’re so wet already,” he said, wasting no time before pushing a finger inside you, causing your back to arch. He pulled it out just as quick before pushing in two and starting to fuck you with them.

“Billy,” you moaned with the intensity of it. 

It had been over six weeks since he’d last touched you, but he hadn’t forgotten a thing. You cried out as his fingers curled inside you, your walls clenching around him, gripping him tight. But it wasn’t his fingers you wanted, and Billy seemed to know that.

“I know,” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. “Soon, hummingbird, I just need to make sure you’re ready for me...”

“Please...” you heard yourself begging, completely losing yourself to him.

“First you’re going to take my fingers, then my tongue, and then you’ll get my cock,” he told you.

Just the thought of it had you shivering.

Your breath caught as a third finger slipped inside you, stretching you and pushing you closer to an orgasm you didn’t have permission to have. At some point, your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were tugging far harder than you should.

“Do you want to come for me?” He whispered into your ear, and all you could do was keen in response. “Then come for me, little hummingbird.”

It was automatic, your body doing exactly as he wanted. You cried out and moaned his name as your walls started to convulse and flutter around his fingers. Fingers that kept moving, dragging out the sensation of ecstacy. You pulled his lips to yours and kissed him, trembling and moaning as his tongue found yours.

But he didn’t linger. Soon he was moving down your body, lips and tongue trailing a clear path from your lips, over your chest and stomach, and down to the apex of your thighs. You shivered in anticipation, seeing his dark eyes staring up at you from between your legs, his fingers parting your folds and -

“Billy,” you cried out as his tongue slid against your trembling flesh.

Your back arched and you tried to lift your hips to press against his mouth, but Billy quickly gripped your thighs and held you in place, determined to stay in control of your pleasure. His tongue moved to your clit, licking with the lightest pressure, barely a ghost of a touch but it was enough to have you breathless.

Finally his attention moved lower, lapping against your slick entrance before pressing the tip inside. If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly, so possessively, your hips would have shot off the bed but, instead, all you could do was cry out as his tongue continued to lick into you.

At some point, your fingers had found their way to his hair again and you were holding him just as tightly as he was holding you, trying to pull him against him, demanding more. And Billy didn’t disappoint. 

He fucked you with his tongue, not stopping to give you permission to come but, instead, fixing you with a hungry look. 

Your whole body tensed before you came on his tongue, but Billy didn’t stop. He continued to devour you, returning his attention to your clit, pushing you from one orgasm right into the next.

“Please,” you begged, feeling like you were about to shatter into a million tiny pieces, “no more. I can’t take any more.”

And, finally, he relented. Billy crawled back up your body, his chin and lips glistening with your wetness. He kissed you eagerly and your lips parted for him, tasting yourself in his mouth, while your hands forced his boxers down.

You’d already come three times, but just the press of his cock at your wet entrance was enough to make your breath catch. You were already intimately familiar with how big he was but it still made you nervous. Looking down you watched him tease his tip between your folds until it glistened with a mixture of your arousal and his own pre-cum.

Then, his cock surged into you, filling you in one rough thrust, catching you off-guard and causing your over-sensitive pussy to tremble as you struggled to adjust to his size. He pulled back before filling you again and again before coming to an abrupt stop buried deep inside you, leaving you shaking beneath him.

He looked down at you, a mixture of remorse and shame on his face and it took you a moment to realise why; he thought he was being too rough with you.

You reached for him, your hand pressing against his cheek. 

“It’s okay,” you told him softly, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“But what if I -” he started and you shook your head.

“Are you here with me? Are you in control?” You asked and Billy gave a definite nod. “Then fuck me, Billy.” You told him, feeling your cheeks warm at how brazen it sounded.

You moaned as you felt him start to move again, every hard inch taking what he needed from you, every thrust causing your walls to flutter and clench, gripping him tight. Everything had been building to this moment, months of foreplay finally leading somewhere. It was no wonder he couldn’t hold back. 

“Fuck, hummingbird, you keep gripping my cock like that and I’m not going to last,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Is that what you want? You want me to come inside you?”

No words left your mouth, just an eager, desperate moan as you stared up at him, lust and desire written all over his handsome face, putting to rest any lingering doubts that you had about his feelings for you.

He kissed you again and again, and you lost yourself to everything he was doing to you. You lost yourself to him. Every time he pulled back, he left you feeling empty and every time he plunged forward left you feeling like all your prayers had been answered.

“Come for me,” he demanded, as if he knew it was building in you before you did.

As commanded, your body started to shudder, coming undone as you moaned his name. His hips slowed, leisurely fucking you through another orgasm, sending more desperate sparks of arousal through your body. It was overwhelming. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You weren’t sure you could go on but you were certain that you couldn’t stop. You wanted more. You wanted everything.

And luckily for you, Billy was just getting started.

“You good?” He asked, his fingers brushing sweat slicked  hair away from your brow.

“Yeah,” you answered breathlessly, too overcome to even force a smile. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he answered, “do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

Billy smiled, kissing you softly, still moving slowly, waiting until your walls finally stopped trembling so much.

He gripped your leg, his hand behind your knee, pulling it upwards, opening you to him, while his other hand reached over you to grip the headboard. For a second he paused, looking down at you, waiting for permission. You bit your lip before nodding.

Nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of what followed. He pulled back slowly before plunging his thick cock into you again, deeper than before, making you realise that you hadn’t taken all of him before then. You let out an incomprehensible cry as you felt his tip graze your cervix, the sensation causing you to clench around him.

Looking down between your bodies, you watched as he started to fuck you, his hips setting a relentless pace, his grip on the headboard helping his powerful movements as he pushed you down into the mattress with each thrust. You felt out of control. No, you felt like you were giving control to Billy, letting him have it because you knew that was what he needed.

“Look at me,” he demanded, sounding just as breathless as you were.

Your eyes found his, and that sight alone was almost enough to make you come. His jaw was clenched and his unblinking eyes were watching every flicker of emotion that passed your face. He was looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, like he was committing every second of this to memory and leaving you feeling more wanted than you ever had.

“My hummingbird,” he groaned, “I’ll never let you go.”

You couldn’t answer, not when every rough, rapid-fire thrust of his hips was forcing moan after moan from you. 

Your hands slipped down his back over cold, sweat-slicked skin, right the way down until your fingers were gripping his buttocks, pressing your fingernails into his flesh. That only seemed to spur him on, moving faster, harder, claiming you with every shift of his hips.

“I want to feel you come again,” he told you.

This time you tried to hold back, fighting every urge that told you to give into the pleasure, wanting it to last, wanting Billy to keep fucking you into the mattress. But then you felt his hand on your throat, just beneath your chin, not squeezing, but gripping tight enough to get your full atention.

“I said I want to feel you come,” his voice almost became a growl, his fingers tentatively tightening their grip on your throat.

You couldn’t deny him. You don't want to, not when you were completely at his mercy. This sudden escalation should have scared you, but some part of you trusted him, some part of you was enjoying this and was desperate for more. Finally, there was no doubt in your mind that he wanted this, wanted you.

Your head fell back as the first wave of your orgasm crashed over you, his fingers gripping tighter as he continued to drive his cock into you. You swore and cried out his name, over and over as he forced you through the most intense climax of your life. Your vision went white and Billy kept going until you couldn’t take any more.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving your body desperately clenching and grasping around nothing, feeling unbearably empty. Your whole body shuddered with the intensity of it all, and Billy just watched as you fell apart for him. It seemed to go on and on, your body shaking uncontrollably, your eyes refusing to focus. You felt starved for touch, and even though you were falling apart, you felt needy and desperate for more than just the touch of his fingers on your throat.

Billy didn’t move until the worst of the tremors had subsided, pulling his hand from your throat as he lowered himself over you again. His lips pressed against yours in a chaste and gentle kiss, a tenderness in his eyes, as he slowly sank his cock back into your sensitive pussy. 

This time his movements were gentle, allowing you to really enjoy the feel of him inside you. Your fingers slipped through his hair and even though he was being so gentle now, you still felt tender and overwhelmed. It felt like something had broken inside of you, like he’d managed to fuck your head empty, and now all you could think about was him and how good it felt everytime he filled you with his cock.

His hands framed your face, holding you as he kissed you, and it felt like everything had been leading to this moment. Now that you’d both sated the urgent desires that had been building in you over the last few months, you could finally take your time with each other. 

You lost yourself in the gentle kiss, in the feeling of him loving you and not just fucking you, slowly climbing towards another orgasm and, this time, Billy seemed primed to join you. 

Towards the end, he started to pick up speed, his groans stacking, his face buried against your neck.

“Come, hummingbird,” he grunted.

The moment you let go, you felt him start to pulse inside you, the sensation causing you to shiver. He gave a couple more thrusts before finally stilling deep inside you, groaning against your neck as his orgasm gripped him.

When you’d pictured sex with Billy, this was not how it had played out, this was not how you saw it ending. You felt boneless, completely overwhelmed and exhausted. For a few moments you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. And, when he finally pulled out, you felt the telltale trickle of cum between your thighs.

For the next couple of hours he held you. Neither of you spoke, both having said so much already. You drifted in and out of sleep, always waking to find him holding you securely, his cold body pressed to your back. 

You were half-asleep when you felt his fingers between your legs, parting your folds and guiding his cock into you. Your back arched against his chest as he started to fuck you from behind, letting out a soft moan as he teased your clit. His free hand gripped your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you, slipping his tongue between your lips before you could think to say anything.

His movements started off slow and sensual, letting you enjoy the sensations of him moving inside you and the way your body stretched to accommodate him. You still felt tender from earlier but any discomfort was quickly forgotten.

“Fuck, hummingbird,” he muttered against your lips, “your tight little pussy takes me so well...”

“Billy,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut, still exhausted but wanting more.

“I’ll never get over the way you grip my cock. It’s like you were made just for me,” he continued in that low, seductive mutter. “Can you feel it?

“Yes,” you whined as your hand awkwardly reached behind you to settle on his hip, wanting to touch him.

It stayed like that for a few long minutes, Billy taking his time with you, smiling at every gasp and moan he managed to pull from you.

Then, without warning, he started to rut into you, his movements becoming desperate and sloppy until you felt him twitch and pulse inside you. You started to shift your hips, clumsily riding him as he spilled inside you. Realising that you hadn’t come, he resumed teasing your clit and groaned in your ear.

“Come for me, hummingbird,” he pleaded and you soon did as you were asked.

“I love you,” you moaned, turning to press your face into the pillow as your body succumbed to the pleasure coursing through it.

All Billy gave was a hum in response. There was no question in your mind that he’d heard those three little words, even as his body shivered behind you, and he lost himself in his own pleasure. After everything, you didn’t expect to hear it back, you didn’t expect him to confess more than he already had. You just wanted him to know.

You let out a soft whine as he pulled out, too exhausted to move or lift your head again, your eyes closing. Billy pulled you tight against him and held you there until you fell asleep again.

The next time you woke, it was to Billy getting out of bed. You watched him stroll into his walk-in wardrobe and he didn’t notice you were awake until he returned with a suit and shirt.

“I’m really sorry,” he told you softly, “I have to go in to work for a few hours, Frank’ll kill me if I don’t, but you can stay in here and rest and I’ll see you when I get home?” 

There was something in his voice that almost made it feel like he was asking your permission, like he didn’t know how you were going to react. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you wanted to react; you’d just spend the afternoon having the most earth-shattering sex of your life, and now he needed to go to work.

“Okay,” you muttered sleepily, knowing you couldn’t keep him from his job, not after all the time he’d already lost.

You watched as he headed into his bathroom and you listened as he took a quick shower before emerging dressed and ready to go. If you had been so tired you would have appreciated the sight of him in his light grey suit, looking devilishly handsome. Instead you could barely lift your head when he kissed you goodbye.

Around half an hour after he left, you managed to get up and return to your rooms. You took a long shower, exhausted but unable to keep your mind from racing over everything that had happened and what that meant going forward.

Everything he’d said, the way he’d looked at you when you were together; it was too much. It played over and over in your head until it became deafening in the silence of the penthouse. He’d been right about everything. You suddenly understood why he’d tried so hard to keep some distance between you, why he’d never wanted anything beyond the physical. You knew that losing you to illness or old age would kill him.

And you loved him far too much to put him through that.

You were left with only one option; hurt him now to save him from more pain later.

(Or maybe it wasn’t that at all, maybe you were just scared that he was going to hurt you again. As much as you hated yourself for your little admission of love during sex, it still caused your stomach to knot thinking about how he hadn’t said it back. What if he never said it?)

It wasn’t long before you found yourself by the intercom again, pressing the button, waiting for a response and, when you finally heard Lissa’s voice...

“I need my things, I want to leave...”

End Note : 😅😅😅😅 like I said last week 'trust me, I have a plan'. At least they actually got to fuck this time 😅 Also, just as a potential warning, I'm not 100% sure if next weeks chapter will be on time; I'm away for a couple of days and my birthday is next weekend. I have already started chapter 16 though so I will try to get it posted at the normal time. If I can't get it done, I'll post something to let people know and probably try to post two chapters the week after.

Also, I now have an AO3 account (it's hungermakesmonsters) I'm planning on posting things there as well as here but things will probably always end up on tumblr first, so don't feel like you have to follow me there or anything. As always, thanks for all your support and the likes/screaming in the comments/reblogs! Have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

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@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit @jazzclubprincess

[fictioninmyblood]

Back to Bed Pt. 2

Summary: Terry and Y/N had been married for just over 7 years with 3 beautiful children and a blooming self defense business they’d built together to show for it. Having started their relationship at the beginning of Y/N’s journey into discovering her submissiveness and Terry’s first stationing as an instructor - Terry had been her only dom and thus knew her like the back of his hand and Y/N has been the only sub to experience the harshest version of his dom giving her the same privilege over him. Having been pregnant with their baby girl upon coming home to the Sandy Springs situation, Terry has been using it as an excuse, too afraid to lean all the way into his dom personality the way he had with Y/N before his last tour.

After they get into an argument, again, about the events of Silver Springs and how even after the last few years of stitching their life back together, he still only talked to Summer about everything that happened and was handling her with kid gloves, Y/N separates from him best she can. Completely at a crossroads of what to do to feel like she’s still her husband’s wife and losing all the fight to try and figure it out, she gives Terry the silent treatment and isolates from him, doing her best to only be in the same room with him when the kids are. After weeks of her barely acknowledging him or the argument, Terry is tired of going to bed alone when his wife is sleeping in the guest room right below him. His plan? Let the dom in him handle it and finally confess his monsters.

WARNINGS: 18+ themes, Minors DNI, d/s themes, smut, angst

A/N: I almost forgot to tag folks, literally stayed up all night finishing this part. Charge it to my head not my heart.

Tags: @kirayuki22 @blyffe @scorpiosaintt @kaylaahisthebestest- @captainwithoutmakingitlove @nayaesworld

A/N: Thank you to all the Terry girls out there that have created a monster in me for this man in literally less than a week. Story inspired by @megamindsecretlair ‘s “I Swear I’ll Never Leave” oneshot and @keyaho ‘s “R.E.L.L.S.” series.

A/N: There will be at least one more part. Kinda proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes.

Just as he had finished the thought staring down at her with his arms folded and his mind racing with all the ways he could have this night go, she delivered exactly the push that would make him give them what they both needed, obviously.

“Just because I’m down here giving you all sorts of ideas, doesn’t mean I’m going to comply just like that.”

He raised a lone eyebrow and responded, “Is that so kitten?”

Y/N nodded her head, causing Terry to tighten his hands around his folded forearms. It was something small, but now that they understood each other and were officially in the scene he knew that she knew what that answer meant. He held his hand up to his ear and said, “come again kitten?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes that is so.”

“You testing me mama?” Terry asked while holding her chin to keep their gazes locked.

Y/N shrugged and struggled to keep her smirk entirely off her face as she moved her face right out of his grasp, seeing the exact reaction she’d been hoping for flash behind his eyes.

Terry grabbed her hair by the base of her neck and yanked harshly, leaning into her face as close as possible while he practically snarled out, “You will use your words.”

Y/N smiled blatantly now, what could be considered a demented smile, raising an eyebrow as if to mock his signature move with her, and replied, “Or what?”

“Or what?” Terry repeated confused and baffled by the audacity his kitten was showing. He’d already told her how close to snapping he’d been, warned her of the dangers of interacting with him in this state, and she still chose to provoke him. His mind couldn’t wrap his head around the minx that was kneeled before him, it seemed he wasn’t the only one hiding a different beast. She was usually always so compliant, even when being bratty it was easy to get her to fold to his commands, but not now. “Or what?” he repeated again, more so as a statement as he loosed the grip he had on her hair to rub the base of her skull.

The second he watched those beautiful eyes close accompanied by the sound of the barest of moans, he slapped her face 3 times in a row, open palmed like before. When her eyes and mouth popped open, his finger fucked her throat with 3 of his fingers until she was a slobbery mess. He’d pressed down on her tongue, effectively gagging her, leaned in close to her face and licked from her top lip back to her ear to grasp it between his teeth.

“You bout to find out and I don’t want no sounds out of you except ones of pleasure, mine and yours.”

Y/N smiled at him when he pulled away to look at her again but it quickly dissipated when his became sinister. “I’m bout to fuck you so good you beg me to stop and I’m going to keep,” he slapped her face one, “goin,” a second slap made her cream her panties, soaking through to the sleep shorts covering them. 

He didn’t have to see it to know it because he knew her expressions, had learned them thoroughly over the years enough to know her involuntary orgasm face. It was his favorite afterall. Terry let his wet fingers slip out of her mouth and immediately put his dick in while it was stil hanging open. Despite having plans to tie her down and fuck her sensely in their bedroom, something about this moment made him desperate to have this.

As soon as Y/N lifted her hands to hold onto his hips he popped the side of her face. “You already know what time it is mama, stop testing me.”

It really wasn’t fair how he was holding a one-sided conversation with her knowing damn well that she couldn’t respond, only react. He was using everything he knew about Y/N against her and this was the one arena that she welcomed his attention to detail. Her pussy couldn’t stop clenching around nothing since he let out that ‘fuck’ earlier.

Only thing Terry was focused on was his nut and her compliance. Despite clenching her fists at her sides for a bit with no problem she had the audacity to reach for his pussy. HIS pussy!

He pulled himself from the depths of her throat and pulled her to stand by the grasp he suddenly had on it so fast that Y/N officially couldn’t think anymore. Even the following slap barely registered as her fight or flight responses pulled her psyche in separate directions. One part of her trying to witness the moment from outside her body while the other wanted to lean into all the sensations he was making her feel.

“You acting up a little too much for my liking kitten, let’s fix that huh?”

Terry grasped her arm and turned her over his knee, using his foot to sweep her off of hers as he sat,  in such a swift motion that she couldn't have counteracted it if she tried. Gathering the second arm into the same hand that had the other at the base of her spine he got right to work. He’d gotten to his 6th blow before her body tensed up from finally feeling them all at once. Terry was not being gentle and she knew in this moment that he was definitely going to mark her every way he can, starting with the bruises that were sure to start appearing on her ass in a few hours. He let her ride out the sensations for a few moments, rubbing her butt with all the love and care he had for her before he was back to quick pops. By the time he stopped the 3rd time, he’d reached 25 and she was on the precipice of an orgasm if her moans were any indication, but he didn’t want that just yet.

“Why you actin’ up so much, huh?”

Y/N was on a high that just kept going up with every second under his hands. She had never experienced her subspace like this before and she was greedy for more. There was a small part of her that asked what if she pushed too far, but it wasn’t loud enough to stop her from looking back at him with fresh tears in her eyes from her most recent punishment, opening her mouth to say, “maybe you just don’t how to punish me.”

If she thought he looked menacing before, that was nothing compare to the monster that appeared as he rained 5 more slaps that were far slower and far heavier on her ass cheeks. She wanted to keep looking him in the eyes, happy to see this hidden side of him, but she had no control over her body as she came again, eyes and head rolling, muscles tightening. She could swear he’d shown her the universe with the way the darkness behind her eyes lit up.

[dyaz-stories]

Cuddling — Day two of Inukag Fluff Week

Second one shot for @inukagfluffweek! This one is set in canon, and probably a little more on the hurt/comfort side.

Keeping an eye on Kagome was second nature for Inuyasha. After all, if there wasn’t food on her plate, she’d grow hungry and Jewel shards hunting would be interrupted. If there wasn’t a fire to keep her warm, she’d be too tired to go on. If they were caught in a downpour without shelter, she’d get sick. If she kept going when her legs hurt, the next day would be hell. So he got her food, he built the fire, he found the shelter, he carried her on his back. Not ‘cause he cared, though, well, he did care, a little bit, the normal amount, whatever that was, but for purely practical reasons.

That meant he figured out early on that something was wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint what for the life of him, though.

He’d added wood to the fire. He’d caught and cooked a rabbit. He’d carried her on his back half the day, holding her two-wheeled thing in one hand. He’d even offered his services in ridding some farmer of pesky yokai, so they’d get to sleep in a barn for once. Sure, he wasn’t Miroku, and he couldn’t secure them a place in some luxury house, but he was trying his best, ‘kay? Miroku wasn’t around anyway, and Kagome had never complained about luxuries before.

And still, when everything should have been fine, something was clearly wrong. Kagome kept looking in the distance, eyes turning glassy, mouth curving downward as she buried herself in her thought, keeping him so, so far away from her even if she was sitting right next to him.

 Inuyasha had no damn clue how to fix it.

“What is it this time?” he snapped at last as she was finishing her food in silence, taking small, slow bites, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. Her wide brown eyes focused on him at last, and that simple action was grounding enough for him that he would almost have felt sorry for his outburst.

Almost.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and the immediate frown on her face told him she was not to be messed with right now — too bad he didn’t care, at this point.

“What’s wrong with you, you mean,” he scoffed, folding his arms and shaking his head. “You’ve been sulking for days. So tell me how to fix it, or just stop doing that already!”

If he’d been self-aware enough for that, he would no doubt have realized how childish he sounded. Kagome could have, too, but instead, her face flushed.

“I’m fine!” she replied, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “It’s not your problem anyway, so just forget about it!”

“How is it not my problem when you’re all—” He gestured at her, frustrated. “—and it’s a pain to travel!”

“Well if it’s a pain to travel with me, why don’t you just go with someone else?” she replied, raising her voice a little more.

“Because I don’t want to travel with someone else!” he yelled back. “I just want you to tell me how to not make it hard for you!”

She went quiet then, uncharacteristically so, red spreading to her ears, and Inuyasha growled under his breath, muttering to himself. He wasn’t sure what to do with this quiet Kagome. If she needed to scream at him to feel better, well, she could get on with that, and at least then she’d be fixed or whatever, but even picking a fight wasn’t working, damn it.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered at last, and Inuyasha started like he’d been stung by a bee. Uh, yeah, not good. She didn’t do that. Even when she was in the wrong, she needed her time and space to calm down, and then she’d apologize, often while bringing him an offering of ramen. She never turned down a fight with an immediate apology.

That was when the tears came.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sniffing.

“Wh— No— Don’t—” he pleaded, voice cracking, but she paid him no attention.

“I just— It’s been a very long year, you know? And I— I— I miss my mom,” she finally broke, waterfalls on her cheeks, quiet sobs wracking her body as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Inuyasha froze. He reached out for her without thinking, overwhelmed by the need to make it stop, make it better, make her better, make it so she’d never ever cry again, but his fingers curled up before he could touch her, caught by some other part of his instinct.

“W-why didn’t you just say so! You can just— you can just go home then!” he scoffed, trying very hard to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.

“But we’ve been on the road for days,” Kagome sniffed, “and it would take days to go back, and we haven’t found that stupid Jewel shard, and I just want her to give me a hug, and—”

“Ha, well I-I can do that too! You could have asked me!”

That made Kagome stop crying for long enough to give him a blank stare.

“Come on, Inuyasha. I’m not going to force you to hug me.”

“W-who said anything about forcing me!”

“Well you don’t look thrilled about it,” she said, doubtful, and at least she was crying a lot less now, but her eyes and nose were still read and he wasn’t going to let that slide, was he?

“J-just— just don’t move, okay?”

Clumsily, despite how careful he was being, he put both arms around her, awkwardly tugging her until he’d brought her against his chest. He was barely touching her, his arms forming a misshaped circle hovering around her. He’d hugged her before, but it had been an impulsive action, not one he’d thought about. He— had no idea how to do it intentionally.

Against his chest, Kagome giggled.

“You have to actually hug me, you know? Like that.”

She did it without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against his, and this time when he froze, there were very different emotions running within him. On the top of his head, his ears were twitching, all his senses alert, taking in her breathing that was getting more even, her smell, her breath against his skin. Swallowing, he finally brought himself to close his arms around her, and she sighed contentedly.

“See?” she asked. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

He could barely reply around the knot in his throat. She felt so soft against him, so delicate. His half-demon strength would make it so, so easy to break her in half — and she knew that. Her warmth was spreading through him, from his chest and face to the root of his hair and the tip of his toes. Everything he felt was Kagome. With great care, he ran his fingers through her hair, not wanting his claws to cut through them by accident. She shivered, tilted her head forward a little to give him better access. Mesmerized, he kept going. Her hair felt soft between his fingers, silky.

Everything about this was calming. And she’d been right. It was nice.

It caught him by surprise when she moved, entangling herself from him.

“Thanks, Inuyasha,” she said, sniffing again. “I’m feeling better. It was nice of you to— Oh!”

He pulled her back into him, this time with a tighter grip.

“You said you needed a hug, so I’m giving you one that’ll last you until I can get you back to your time,” he said gruffly. “Now just sleep, ‘kay?”

Her laugh vibrated through his chest, and he found it to be the best thing he’d ever felt.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Inuyasha.”

He would have told her that he was just doing it so she’d be in the mood for shard hunting the next day, but if she’d called him out, he would never have been able to lie with a straight face, so he chose not to.

‘cause truth be told, now that he was experiencing it, he thought he’d needed that hug at least as much as her.

Don't have ideas for the upcoming themes so this will probably be my last entry for the week! Thank you all for the love on yesterday's entry, hope you've enjoyed this one as well, and I'll see you when I see you!

[haveihitanerve]

"He didn't kill joker!" Jason threw in his face. "B never avenged me! he never loved me! He. Didn't. Kill. Joker." Dick was quiet for so long Jason thought maybe he'd actually succeeded in shutting him, when he spoke, voice quieter than it had ever been. "He almost did."

The words took a second to register. "bullshit!" Jason spat when he had finally regained his tongue. Dick remained cool, staring out of the window. "He almost did." He repeated, as if those words weren't currently rattling around in Jason's brain. "When- when Joker killed you." Dick cut off, staring at the floor. "He went crazy." he whispered. "I- i was visiting because I knew it had- destroyed him. But I didn't realize how bad it was until-" Dick bit his lip. "until I got the call. It was Alfred. He was-" Dick took a shuddering breath and Jason braced himself. "He was stuttering and shaking and ordered me to get to Bruce's tracker immediately and I-" Dick shook his head. Jason had to admire his older brother for speaking so clearly. If he was reliving a moment in his life when he had witnessed Alfred, fucking Alfred, shake and stumble over his words, he would have been much less composed. "I didn't question it. I didn't even put on my suit. I just sprinted to where Bruce was. I thought-" Dick reached up a hand to his eyes and Jason realized with a jolt that he was crying. "I thought he had killed himself." Dick whispered. "i thought he had finally grown tired of it- of living without you, of fighting with me, of not being able to hold a child in his arms anymore without blood being involved." He shook his head, still staring at the floor.

"And I hated him. I hated him for leaving me, for leaving Alfred, for not having the backbone to stay and figure things out and heal- to not stay and try with me anymore. I hated- I hated that he had given up." Dick's hands were trembling, and he curled them into fists to hide it. "I hated that after everything we had gone through together, after all the life you and I had brought into his life, after all the times he had grilled it into me to just get back up- that he had just given up. Given up on life and- given up on me." The words grew so quiet Jason had to strain to hear them. And then he wished he hadn't. Dick shook himself, getting back on track. "So anyway, I raced over and... he wasn't dead. But he was just- sitting there. His legs over the edge of the building and I- I didn't understand why Alfred had sounded so scared. Why he had begged me to run." Jason had the horrible realization that he didn't want to know how this story ended. But he let Dick continue. "Until I got closer." Jason tried not to vomit. "He was- drenched in blood. It was as though he had been in a dunk tank over blood instead of water. And Joker had been the ball." Jason pressed a fist to his mouth. Dick still wasn't looking at him. "I-I didn't know what to do. So I just- sat down. Leaned against him." Dick took a shuddering breath and Jason placed his feet wide, bracing himself. "And then he started to talk." Dick whispered, a tremor in his voice. "He told me about what he'd done, and he spared no detail." Jason couldn't breathe. Something like anger, but worse, was choking his throat. "And when it was all over- when he had told me the last of the description, he turned and looked me dead in the eyes and told me, "he killed my son. if he, or anyone else, ever touches one of my children again- I will do far worse than what I did to him."" Jason sprinted to the bathroom and painted the toilet with his insides. When he returned, pale and shaky, Dick was still standing where he had been. Calm, cool, collected. "He almost did." Dick repeated once more, still not looking at Jason. Finally, he turned, making eye contact. "But you have to understand, for Dad? Killing him is too small of a punishment."

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i got wasted like all my potential ; after your repeated mistakes, struggles with the lab work, and lack of progress, tsukishima scolds you harshly till you’re breaking down in front of him

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | #daleelahwritings🐭

The air in the lab was always thick with the scent of chemicals, the hum of equipment, and the nervous energy of students trying to avoid mistakes. Each week, the practicum grew more complex. What started as simple measurements and basic reactions quickly escalated into multi-step processes that demanded precision and a deep understanding of biochemistry—both of which you struggled with.

Today’s experiment involved a protein extraction procedure. The lab instructions were dense with scientific jargon that made your head spin. You reread the steps multiple times, trying to make sense of them, but it was like trying to decipher a foreign language. Around you, your classmates were already setting up their stations with practiced ease, moving in groups they had long since formed. You couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they worked together, exchanging tips and helping each other out.

You glanced over at Tsukishima, who was busy assisting another group with the accuracy of their results. He looked so calm and collected, his tall figure standing out as he leaned over to explain something with a level of patience that was hard to reconcile with the way he always seemed to snap at you.

Determined not to mess up again, you carefully measured out the reagents, trying to remember everything Tsukishima had scolded you about last time. But as you transferred the solution into the centrifuge, your hand slipped, and the liquid spilled across the countertop. Panic surged through you as you frantically tried to clean up the mess, knowing that this mistake would not go unnoticed.

And it didn’t.

Tsukishima’s shadow fell over your station, and you froze, your heart pounding. He let out a long sigh, his frustration palpable. “Are you even trying to read the instructions?” His voice was low but edged with irritation. “I showed you this step just last week. How could you mess it up again?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. The entire class seemed to have paused, all too familiar with the routine by now—another day, another scolding. It felt like everyone was waiting for you to break under the pressure, to finally admit that you didn’t belong here.

But Tsukishima, as harsh as he was, didn’t walk away. Instead, he grabbed another set of reagents and started the process from scratch. “Pay attention this time,” he muttered, demonstrating the steps once more. He moved with the precision and confidence of someone who had done this countless times before. “You need to stop being so careless. This isn’t something you can just half-ass.”

His words stung, but you nodded, forcing yourself to focus on what he was doing. He had a way of making you feel like a complete idiot, yet there was something in the way he didn’t just abandon you that kept you from giving up entirely.

As he handed the equipment back to you, his gaze softened slightly. “If you keep making the same mistakes, you’ll never get this. You need to practice more, or you’re going to fail.”

“I’m trying,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I really am.”

“Try harder,” he snapped, but his tone lacked the usual bite. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely angry or just tired of seeing you struggle. He watched as you completed the step under his supervision, nodding slightly when you finally managed to do it correctly.

Over the next few weeks, the pattern continued. Each lab session brought a new challenge, and with it, more opportunities to mess up. Whether it was miscalculating concentrations, mixing up solutions, or just getting lost in the labyrinth of complex procedures, it seemed like you were always on the verge of disaster. And Tsukishima, true to form, was always there to call you out on it.

“Did you even check the pH before adding that buffer?” he asked one afternoon, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your notes. “This is basic stuff. You should know better by now.”

You hung your head, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks. It wasn’t just his words; it was the weight of knowing that you were disappointing him again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, not for the first time.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Being sorry isn’t going to help you pass this class. Are you just trying to waste my time?”

His question hit you harder than you expected, and you could feel your throat tighten. You had spent so much time just trying to survive each practicum that you hadn’t really stopped to think about why you were doing this in the first place. But instead of answering, you chose to keep silent, hoping that maybe this time, your apology would be enough to placate him.

Tsukishima remained silent, clearly waiting for you to say more, to give him something to work with. He wanted you to argue back, to tell him what you were struggling with so he could actually help. But when all you offered was another weak, “I’m sorry,” you could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes.

He hissed with tiredness and frustration. “Well then, you’ve got your goal so perfectly. Congratulations on making me waste my time on you.” His tone was bitter, laced with a sharp edge that cut deeper than any of his previous scoldings. “If you’re just going to keep saying ‘sorry’ and not actually try to improve, then maybe you should rethink why you’re even here.”

After his scolding, Tsukishima turned away from you, leaving you to struggle on your own. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it difficult to focus, but you forced yourself to push through. Determined not to be the failure he saw you as, you stayed long after the other students had left, methodically redoing each experiment that you had messed up earlier.

The lab was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint hum of the equipment and your own breath. It took hours, but eventually, you managed to complete the tasks, albeit with trembling hands and an exhausted mind.

You silently placed your lab report on Tsukishima's desk, hoping this ordeal would be over. As you turned away to return to your station and pack up, you heard him flip through the pages. His silence was unnerving, and just as you were about to make your escape, his voice, laced with irritation, stopped you in your tracks.

“Is this your idea of fixing things?” His tone was biting, and you flinched, slowly turning back to face him.

He was staring at the report with a look of deep dissatisfaction. “You’ve been here for hours, and this is the best you can do?”

You felt your heart sink. “I—I tried to—”

“Try harder!” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. He stood up, towering over you, the full weight of his height and anger making you feel small and insignificant. “Do you even care about this? Because right now, it seems like you’re wasting both your time and mine.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears, but his harsh words felt like daggers. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” he cut you off sharply. “I don’t want apologies. I want results! Do you even understand how much effort it takes to fix your mistakes? And yet, you keep making the same ones over and over. It’s like you’re not even trying to improve.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wanted to defend yourself, to explain that you were doing your best, but the words got stuck in your throat. All you could manage was a pathetic, “I’m trying…”

“Trying?” Tsukishima scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “If this is your idea of trying, then you’re hopeless. At this rate, you’re going to fail this class, and I’ll be the one who has to watch you flounder around, wasting everyone’s time.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. The tears you’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally spilled over, and you quickly looked down, not wanting him to see.

But it was too late. Tsukishima noticed, and for a moment, his expression flickered with something other than anger—maybe regret, or concern—but it was quickly masked by his frustration. “Crying isn’t going to help either,” he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its edge.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breathing. You wanted to disappear, to run away from his harsh gaze and never come back. But you were stuck, rooted to the spot by your own shame and helplessness.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then, in a quieter tone, he added, “Why are you even here if this isn’t what you want to do? If you’re just going to half-ass everything and cry whenever things get tough, then maybe you should think about whether this is the right path for you.”

That was the final straw. The weight of everything—your struggles, his harsh words, the pressure from your parents—came crashing down on you all at once. A sob broke free, and before you knew it, you were crying in earnest, the kind of crying that came from deep within, raw and uncontrollable.

Tsukishima looked alarmed, clearly not expecting this reaction. For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure of what to do. But then, awkwardly, he stepped closer to you, hesitating before finally placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, stop that,” he said, his voice much softer now, almost gentle. “I didn’t mean to… damn it.”

You couldn’t stop crying, no matter how much you tried to pull yourself together. The stress, the fear, the overwhelming sense of failure—it all came pouring out.

Realizing that his words had done more damage than he intended, Tsukishima, still awkward and hesitant, did the only thing he could think of to comfort you. He pulled you into a hug, his tall frame enveloping you, one hand gently rubbing your back as he murmured a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace and the unexpected softness in his voice finally starting to soothe the raw edges of your emotions. Tsukishima held you, his own heart pounding in his chest, wondering how he’d let things get so out of hand.

As your sobs began to quiet, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. His usual cold demeanor was gone, replaced by an expression of concern and regret. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” he admitted, his voice low. “But you have to understand… I just don’t want to see you fail.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, still shaken but calmed by his unexpected kindness. “I… I’ll try harder,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Tsukishima sighed, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” He paused, looking down at you with something softer in his gaze. “We’ll get through this, together.”

He sighed, letting go of you and running a hand through his hair. “Look, just… try not to take everything so personally. I’m hard on you because I want you to do well. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t bother.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his honesty. “You… care?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t read too much into it. I just don’t want to see you fail.”

Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope ignite in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Tsukishima’s grumpy exterior than he let on. And maybe, if you kept trying, you could prove to him—and to yourself—that you were capable of more than just making mistakes.

[mikanotes]

happy birthday xiao i love uuuu here’s a really bad fic i wrote while very tired. sorry i couldn’t make anything better but TT oh well! /late spring ft. xiao x gn!reader warnings: none really? they’re dating except neither of them know idk. some existential talk. possibly ooc xiao i’m so sorry & i think that’s it!

A soft, soft breeze drifts through the curtains of Xiao’s room. There’s the gentle pitter patter of a rain calming down and the scent of nearby Silk Flowers. It’s all so gentle that Xiao feels this might be what mortals describe as feeling like one is floating on a cloud.

He stares at the horizon and heaves a quiet sigh, before letting his gaze dart towards a piece of paper on the desk by the window. Again. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t looked at it a hundred times since seeing it appear in his room following his daily patrol and fights against monsters.

Surprise was what he first felt, then something he doesn’t know how to name that made his heart tighten painfully, then something else that made it difficult for him to both look at the letter and look away from it all at once. He still feels that ache in his heart when he thinks about it, somehow, but it’s not really painful. It’s not the kind of pain that causes worry. He figures it’s closer to excitement than anxiety. He’s not sure.

In any case, he’s sure whatever he feels is way too much in comparison to the contents of that paper sheet.

“Hi Xiao! It’s me. I’m sure you know, right?

Is it alright if we meet up at Qiaoying Village?

When the moon is highest, maybe? No worries if you can’t come. If you only have a little time, no worries, it won’t be long. See you there, I hope.”

There it is again… He nearly curses under his breath, fingers coming up to tighten at the fabric of his top, right above his heart, twisting again.

He takes a deep breath and easily dispels the feeling, though he begins to worry about the ease with which something so simple makes his chest react so strongly. He looks up at the moon and decides his incessant checking has lasted enough, before taking a step back and disappearing from his room.

Qiaoying Village is like the Harbor in a sense. It’s full of life, full of people, and the exact kind of place Xiao usually avoids. But a village is always easier. It’s arguably much less crowded and the people tend to have unspoken rules about not being too noisy around a certain time of the night. So when it’s this late, and up from a nearby hill, it’s not half as bad as it would usually be.

“You came.”

He shifts his gaze your way and has to pretend he isn’t surprised. He isn’t, but it took him a second too long to notice you. His heart picks up in speed again and he clears his throat quietly.

Shush.

“You called. What is it?” he asks casually, taking a step closer to you. You’re sitting at the edge of the cliff, your bag settled on the grass with some sheets of paper and flowers peeking out. Is that Qingxin? You hum quietly, eyes trained on the horizon, then sigh. You seem to be pondering over how to answer. “Should I give you more time?”

“Give me a break, is what you should.” you retort, scoffing jokingly. He chuckles silently at that and decides to come sit at your side.

“Is this about my day of birth?” he asks, looking ahead as well, “I told you you don’t need to make a big deal out of it. It’s just another day.”

“It is.” you agree, tone sounding somewhat melancholic. Then you turn to look at him, gaze a bit persistent on getting him to do the same. He swallows thickly and glances at you.

“… It is.” he repeats quietly, blinking. “So?”

“You’ve lived really long. When did you stop celebrating your birthday? Did it become meaningless?”

Big talk. He’s not too surprised. There’s no point in not being honest.

“What if I never started?” he asks blankly. It’s not really meant to be rhetorical, either. “I don’t know what’s meaningful about this. It’s not as if I remember the day, either.”

You laugh softly at that. “No one does. That’s not what’s meaningful about it.” you say, gaze moving elsewhere. He doesn’t look away.

“Then?”

There’s a moment of silence, and he hears you hum faintly. It’s a long enough moment to let his mind wander to the clouds again, to that peaceful and heart-ache-inducing place where he thinks about you. He thinks about you the whole day, then thinks about you when you’re right in front of him. It isn’t the first time it happens, but it does feel stronger when it’s his birthday.

Then to him, this day…

“It’s meaningful in different ways for everyone, I think.”

“Really?”

You turn to look at him and frown. “You look elsewhere.”

He waits. He doesn’t know what for. (For his daydream to end. It doesn’t. You’re the dream in front of him. He’s cursed to ‘look elsewhere’ as long as you’re on his mind, he thinks, but there are worse things to be cursed with.) Then he shakes his head a little bit. “I’m here.” he states, “Why is your birthday meaningful?”

You make a face like you’re not buying his previous statement, for some reason, then huff.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell.”

He’s surprised. He tilts his head a little. “You… Can’t?”

You nod. “It feels like it lost meaning over the years. Maybe because I’m growing older? In any case, maybe it doesn’t actually need meaning…”

“You sound like you’re backtracking because I called you out.”

“You don’t need to point it out. Isn’t cake enough, anyways?!”

He scoffs softly. “Then what are we doing here?”

You look at him for a long few seconds, and this time his mind isn’t allowed to go anywhere. Your gaze anchors him where he sits and he can’t go anywhere else. He has no escape. He can only look at you. “Because I think it’s meaningful. I’m glad you were born, and that you exist, and that I get to exist with you.” you say, and he’s almost in awe at how easily all of this came out of your mouth.

“I…” I don’t understand, is what he wanted to say. But he thinks he feels blessed to be allowed to live a life where he got to meet you. So that just wouldn’t be true. He does understand. “I see.”

It’s been a few years since you’ve known each other. Around four birthdays, he recalls. You’ve been celebrating his birth on this day each year since you two met. It should make sense, then, that you cherish him. It should go without saying that you want to celebrate this day with him. But some part of him still can’t believe you really care this much. Before, he would have never dreamed of anyone caring so much about him they would even remember the day he was born. He thinks he would’ve probably forgotten it if it wasn’t for you.

Birthdays are meaningless for a Yaksha. For someone who lives so long and so alone. However he’s not alone, anymore.

So then to him, this day is now meaningful because you’re there. Because you invited him. Because you continue to remind him it matters to you. Because you want to celebrate that he was born, and that he exists. It’s meaningful because you care about him.

“Should I say it more clearly?”

“More clearly?”

“I hope I can remind you I’m happy you’re here for every year you and life itself allow me to.”

If Xiao’s heart hurt before, then he doesn’t know how to describe the way it feels now. It’s at least ten times worse. You’re really willing to waste this day each year, aren’t you? He wants to sound annoyed but he feels anything but.

“I don’t think…” he takes a deep breath, but it’s shaky. “I don't think it needed to be clarified. I got it.”

You unfortunately seem to catch on to how flustered he is and lean closer. His gaze hesitates between looking at you and elsewhere several times before settling on elsewhere.

“Your embarrassment is making mine disappear. Thank you, really.”

“So you were embarrassed…” Xiao scoffs under his breath, “Didn’t sound like it. Maybe I didn’t pay close enough attention.”

He feels your fingertips touch his face, silently asking to hold him. He lets you.

“Then pay attention.” you say, guiding his face towards yours. Your eyes are close enough to see the moon reflected in them. Pretty.

“I am.”

“Great.” you smile, “Happy birthday.”

Your palm is cold against the skin of his cheek. He swears your skin is usually the warmer one. Is his face warmer than usual?

He looks away. He can’t help it. “…Thank you.”

Your hand is even colder. No, his face is warmer. 

Then you pull away and he misses how cool it felt, so he grabs your hand before it’s too far away, and holds onto the feeling of it in his. You hum in question and he just intertwines his fingers with yours before looking back up. It would seem nonchalant if his face wasn’t still so warm, but he doesn’t care too much. If the sky is on his side the moonlight will only be bright enough to see you and nothing else.

You’re the only one he’ll always be willing to celebrate something so meaningless with. You’ve been known (to him) to have a way of making things meaningful by simply being there, anyways. Maybe he should be the one to get you a gift for that. Flowers? He thinks about your bag again and wonders if you didn’t one-up him, already.

“Did you call me all the way here to talk about the meaning of our existence?” he asks, trying to lighten the air. You laugh and get your bag, not letting go of his hand.

“Nah. I got you something.”

He sighs, and smiles. “Of course you did.”

“It’s simple, okay? Don’t worry!”

[onskepa]

Syawn: Three heads, one face

Helloooooooo! Gosh its been a good while since the last update for this series! But here it is! Another beautiful chapter! Enjoy~!!

Syawn series

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

Tuk, lo’ak and kiri were running like their life depended on it. Each holding a precious cargo. Their hearts pounding, sweat dripping, tired to the bone. They pass their friends and relatives to reach their destination. Only they can know. Yes, only them. 

“Come on! Hurry!” kiri urges her siblings. 

They all climb to a home, trying to get there as fast as possible without dropping their package. 

When they reached inside, the three siblings took a sigh of relief. 

“What are you three doing?” a voice asks them. 

The sully siblings look up to see syawn who was staring down at them. 

“Syawn! We need your help!” tuk practically shouts. Syawn tilts her head. 

“Help on what?” she asks. 

Kiri, lo’ak and tuk help up their cargo. 

“We can't tell who is who!” lo’ak whines as they were holding syawn’s triplet babies. All three smilings and cooed at seeing their mother. 

Neteyam and syawn knew from the start they would have a little problem with their children. Being triplets meant having the same face. And having the same face would confuse people. Confused people will go to them for figure out who is who. The cycle repeats.

“It shouldn't be that hard to see the difference” syawn mutters as she and neteyam bathes their babies. Being their parents, of course they know who is who.

“We are their parents, my love, it is our duty and instinct to know. For others who only see them for a short time, it is difficult” neteyam answers. He gives a light tickle to lu’lafyon who giggles happily.

Syawn puts flower nectar on their hairs gently.

“What if we use different colors for their loin cloths?” she suggests.

Neteyam thinks about it for a moment, “alright, seems like a good idea”.

Usually they would use different shades of purple for their loin clothes, it was easy. Have the triplets match while also making the shades different enough. Neteyam liked it, syawn thought it would be cute.

“Bah!” lu’law was splashing the water joyfully as her brothers copy her.

“You dont think this problem will continue in the years to come, would it?” syawn asks.

“Who knows, but if that were to happen, no doubt these little ones will take full advantage”

If only neteyam knew just how correct he was. 

“Lu’law get back here!” 

“I'm not lu’law, I'm lu'tstunwi!” 

“Lu’lafyon! You too!” 

“But im lu’law!” 

“No you arent! Im lu’law!”

The triplets all snicker mischievously as they hang from the high branches. They look down at their grandparents and aunts and uncles. Their relatives are already annoyed by their antics. 

“Just wait until your parents hear about this!” lo’ak shouts. 

“Don't be a downer uncle loki!” one of the triplets said. 

Tuk was trying her very best to differentiate the three siblings, but its really hard. 

They have the exact same stripes, same features, same height, same voice, down to the same top and loin cloth. Literal copies of three. And the lululu’s abuse that power. 

“Yeah!” the other triplet agrees. 

Neytiri hisses, “I will pull you three from your ears if I have to!” she threatens. 

“How grangran? You have two hands!” one of the triplets stuck their tongue out. 

“Jake! You handle this!” her patience was so low at this point. 

Jake sighed heavily, he was getting way too old for this. “Kids, come on, we played this game a million times over. Dont you ever get tired of playing guess who?” 

The triplets all shook their heads, “its fun grandpa!” 

“Yeah! It never gets old!” 

“Its too much fun!” 

Kiri was pinching the bridge of her nose, “look guys, we really need you to get down. We have the ceremony happening tonight and you three pulling pranks on the people are holding everyone down” she explains. 

The triplets groan in unison, “why do we have to attend?” 

“Yeah! Its got nothing to do with us!” 

“We rather watch the ikrans hatch!” 

“Because we said so” 

The triplets turned their heads to see their father staring down at them. 

“Down, now” 

And obediently they did without any more complaints. 

The rest of the sully family watch the interaction with slight amazement. 

“Sorry, they are starting to get a bit cocky at their game” syawn says as she walks up to her family. 

“OWOWOWOWOWOW!” her children complain as neteyam pulls their tails. Syawn looks at them disapprovingly. 

“We talked about this” she begins with her stern voice. 

“But maaaaaa! We got bored!” 

“Yeah! We only wanted to play!” 

“Yeah! And its boring doing all this stuff” 

Neteyam yanked their tails again, but not too harshly. 

“Boring or not, tonight is very important to everyone. Especially for your grandparents. Now look at them, you have them tangled up in your game and taking their time away from their duties. Same with your aunts and uncle” she lectures. 

The triplets hang their heads low, trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Apologize” neteyam growls a bit. 

“Sorry….” they muttered. Feeling a bit guilty but not really. 

“Say it like you mean it” neteyam scolds. 

“Sorry!” they said again, this time more sincere. Syawn hums in satisfaction. 

“And next time, dont waste people's time”

“Bro….what if, instead of three, there were six of us?” lu’lafyon says out of nowhere. He lays on the grass staring up at the sky with his siblings. Lu’law made a face, trying to imagine it. Lu’tstunwi made a disapproving expression. 

“Six? I can barely share with you two” he remarks, earning two slaps on his head. 

“No but think about it! More of us!” lu’lafyon goes on. 

“Wouldn't that hurt mom? Dad said she was really tired and exhausted when she birthed us” lu’law points out. Her brother hum in thought. 

“True….also our family can barely tolerate us. If there were 6, now that would be a village of its own” lu’tstunwi adds. 

Trying to imagine three more of themselves seemed fun but also hard. What would their life be like? How would they influence each other and those around them? Most of all, how will their parents take care of 6 kids? 

“True….and everyone would be annoyed awhole lot quicker” lu’law says. 

They continue to stare up at the sky, watching ikrans fly around. 

“What if….one of us, or all three of us will also have triplets?” lu’law questions. They havent passed their iknimaya yet, but sometimes they think of what adult life would be like. Watching and observing their parents, grandparents and other adults in the village, it seemed like a lot of fun. 

“Who knows….” lu’tstunwi mutters. 

“But…will the person who we fall in love will want triplets?” this time lu’lafyon questions. 

Tough questions they kept on asking, with answers that may or may not be answered. 

It was sunset, syawn was making a new top as neteyam cleans a bit around their home. He took notice of her craft. Stopping what he was doing, he sits down to join her. 

“Trying for a new look my love?” he asks as he pulls her ino his arms. Syawn shakes her head. 

“No, this is for lu’law” she answers. He looks around to notices something. 

“Just for lu’law?” he wonders. 

“Yes, I was thinking, lu’law is the only girl, so I figured making this top will help in figuring out who is who. And dont worry, I plan to make different loin clothes for out sons as well” syawn answers. 

Neteyam took a moment to understand her reasons. 

Logically speaking, it will help tremendously for everyone to see the difference and finally know which triplet is who. 

But at the same time….

“Do the children know of your idea?” he asks. 

Syawn chuckles a bit nervously, “I was hoping this would be a surprise…” 

Putting her work down, she turns to face her husband, “I know we started this habit of theirs. Matching their clothes, and colors. But I worry that one day someone will say something or people won't take their fun lightly. They are getting older and they will have to find an identity of their own. I figured I would give them a push….tell me net, am I in the wrong?” 

Neteyam strokes his wife’s face, taking in her motherly worry. 

“I say…we let them. Yes it will annoy everyone but remember syawn. They are a walking miracle, they know how unique their life is. If they enjoy being one face, why ruin that? They are still young and exploring life. Lets give them more time” he answers. 

Syawn smiles softly, laying her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

“I can always count on you for these choices” 

“Ichi!” 

“Ni!” 

“Kevin!” 

The triplets named their ikrans. 

Jake rolled his eyes so damn hard. Of course they would name their ikrans after that three headed dragon. 

They passed their important stage of their iknimaya. Taming an ikran. Everyone was so proud to see them succeed. Syawn was ready to cry, by either how scared she was or how happy she is. 

“Mom! Dad! We did it!” the triplets cried out in glee. 

“Take your first flight! Go go!” neteyam shouts. Nodding, one by one the siblings take a leap from the cliff with their ikrans. 

For the triplets, it felt amazing. To feel so connected to their new friends. Going high, making sharp angles. A new sense of freedom was felt. 

“C’mon, lets see what we can pull off!” lu’lafyon shouts, already making a steep dive. His siblings following his move. Some tricks were done wonderfully, others in close call. But the final trick, that was going to take some practice. 

“Oh you have got to…” neteyam muttered. High in the sky, coming straight down at them looked like an actual three headed dragon. 

“MOM!! DAD!! LOOK LOOK LOOK!” lu’tstunwi shouts, his and his siblings ikrans were layed on top of one another, not touching but really close. Flying in the same speed as they make an illusion of king ghidorah. 

“They truly are three of a kind” syawn chuckles. Impressed how they managed to pull something like that so quickly. 

“Yes and I feel three separate heart attacks” neteyam mutters as he continues to look at his children. For sure, they will be a force to be reckoned with. 

Here is a looooooooong over due chapter! It was short but sweet! I still wanna add more chapters to this series! What else should I do? Im open for suggestions!

But until then, see ya!

Liking the series? Click here to put your name to the taglist!

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Taglist: @quirkyhero @mochacoffeeumai26 @theunfortunateplace @moonchildxoxx @galactict3a @cloudyw1ndzz @ikeyniofthetayrangi @skittlebum @thehoneymushroomhealer @sereneselene2-2

[smashboxgirl26]

sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! (though i don't state pronouns) reader summary: katsuki realizes his feelings a little too late contains: mentions of sex, angst (with a maybe happy ending) word count: 2.8k words masterlist

Under the shadows of the coming morning—the sun rising through the blinds of the bedroom windows in your apartment—Katsuki liked to pretend that you were his. 

Just his. 

He tended to be up earlier than you anyways—with years of waking up for hero work instilled in his sleep schedule—but he liked that time. It was quiet in the mornings; only the sounds of the early morning traffic and the birds nested in the tree next to your apartment to keep him company besides your breathing: breaths that were soft and sweet and slow. 

He would curl his palm over your cheek, pressing your figure closer to his as he watched your chest rise and fall under him, stroking your skin softly with his rough thumb—because you were his in that moment. 

Just his.

In those times, he would forget what the reality of his life was—the way you would stare at him tiredly every time he knocked on your door past 1 am, the lingering feeling of your fingers on his cheeks when he leaned in for a kiss, how you would oblige him no matter how many times you’d called him while drunk and upset, the kisses he left on your forehead before he left you alone the next morning—

—That you were not his and he was not yours, no matter how many times he liked to repeat it to himself.

It’s because of my work—he said to himself in the morning, stroking your hair out of your face.

It’s because I don’t have the time to commit—he whispered, nestling himself into the crook of your neck so he could smell the lingering scent of mint, strawberries, and sex.

If only we met under different circumstances… If only my job wasn’t so demanding… If only it was easier… If only I could commit…

If only…

After a while, you only nodded when he whispered those words at three am and your head was resting on his bare chest—like you believed him. 

(Before you would get upset, turn away, tell him to leave—and the cycle would repeat.)

You’d kiss his neck in acknowledgment, curling up in his arms like a cat would—uncaring, unaware. 

He wished he could do the same; just accept the reality in front of him. 

But it didn’t matter, because right now, you were his. 

Just his.

It was the complacency that let the cycle continue; but it was the complacency that became his downfall. He realized this when he stopped leaving you after ten minutes of waking up—waiting for the pink sky to turn bright, watching your eyes flutter open under the light of forthcoming day, the small smile that creeped into your eyes when you realized he was still there—mornings spent in the kitchen drinking coffee and sharing laughs while you paraded around in the sweatshirt he left the first time he came over. 

(It was his favorite in school—black and oversized with a small embroidered insignia of All Might above the right breast.

He didn’t even know he’d lost it until you came out wearing it one morning—and some of his old cologne was still lingering on the collar.)

He let himself forget—deluded himself—into thinking it would last. That he wouldn’t eventually have to pull away, and the dream-like haze he’d lost himself in with you wouldn’t end.

Just his.

It happened five weeks later, after a month-long mission: the morning after, and you were standing in a shirt that wasn’t his with a coffee mug pressed up to your lips like it would hide what you were about to say.

“I think… I think we should end this here, Katsuki.”

The words didn’t register at first, and he stood there staring—trying to come up with an answer.

“This?”

“...us.” Your lips pressed together solemnly, as if whispering a prayer under your breath—and you let out a tired sigh. So very tired. “Our relationship.”

He grunted, unwilling to open his mouth in retaliation. The fear that had been festering in his head began to rise, ugly and thick like bile coming up his throat—and he stood still, silently, staring at the coffee you made for him with too much sugar in the mug he got you from a mission a couple months ago. 

“...I’ve been seeing someone,” you let out—but Katsuki didn’t dare look at your face; Venom sat at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spit out—

—Because you were supposed to be his. 

Just his. “Don’t call it a relationship,” he settled on—enough spite in his voice that he knew it would deter you. “It never was one.”

He expected you to look relieved when he finally stared up at you again, but your expression seemed more soured than before: like you were expecting a different answer to push past his lips. It was quickly replaced though, by a smile that didn’t seem to meet your eyes like they did when you’d wake up in the morning to still find him in bed next to you, before taking another sip of your too-sweet coffee.

“Thank you, Katsuki.”

He didn’t know what you were thanking him for—your time together? For letting you go when you’d both been hooking up like this for almost a year?

And he wasn’t even sure why it felt so bitter. He’d known from the beginning that, whatever this was, wouldn’t last forever. 

Why would you stay in something like this, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to give you more than the little bit of time he already did? Why wouldn’t you want someone who consistently woke up with you in the morning to give you breakfast in bed, or brought you flowers after work, or could take you out in the evenings for dinner?

You deserved that—you deserved all of it. 

So why did he think (hope) you would settle for the little moments he offered you when you could have the world?

He kept his face blank when he left your apartment that morning—drilling the hole in his brain that had been dedicated to you in silence—simultaneously missing the sound of sobbing that came from your apartment as soon as he stepped out the door. 

He thought he would be okay—that in a week or so, it’d be back to how it was without you. 

But it wasn’t.

One week turned into two; two weeks turned into four; and four weeks turned into sitting at the bar, drunk while still in his hero outfit, with Kirishima sitting next to him as he rambled on about you.

You were the only thing he thought about, the only thing he could think about—he missed the scent of your body wash, the warmth of your skin on his, the small teasing smiles you’d give and the dimple that only appeared on one cheek, the too-sweet coffee he’d subject himself to drinking, watching the sunrise while feeling you laying next to him…

Everything about you felt like home.

He’d even gotten distracted the other day during a villain attack because there was a civvie who looked just like you in the line of fire and he’d panicked. 

“It was such a fuckin’ rookie, stupid ass mistake, and I still made it,” he took the last sip of his pint before letting out a small, frustrated grunt because it was finished. 

Eijirou moved to prevent Katsuki from flagging the bartender down for a refill—he was drunk enough after two pints; instead, he signaled for the check while Katsuki groaned in response.

“I’m not fuckin’ finished.”

“Yes, you are,” Eijirou stared at him with a pinched expression. “You have patrol first thing in the morning—you’ll thank me for it then.”

Katsuki huffed under his breath in resignation—unfortunately Eijirou was correct. Not only that, but the upcoming lecture he knew would be coming from the higher ups would be infinitely worse with a splitting hangover. 

“I’ll pay for it,” Eijirou shooed him off his barstool. “Just go stand outside for a bit, maybe the cold will help sober you up a little before you go to sleep.”

Katsuki could only huff in response; his mind was swimming and blurred and his head felt heavy enough that he could only comply with what Eijirou had said—he’d have to pay him back for it later. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he trudged outside. 

The late-winter-early-spring winds nipped against his skin as soon as the door shut behind him, and Katsuki pulled the scarf he was wearing higher up to fully cover his neck and chin—shifting uncomfortably in the cold while he waited for Kirishima. The street was basically empty except for the couple people walking in and out of the bar; he guessed that it was too cold for people to be wandering around at night. Most of the shops on the streets were closed too, leaving the only illumination to come from the blinking street lamps that lined the sidewalk and the gibbous moon above.

“What’s takin’ so fuckin’ long…” he muttered under his breath—trying to peer into the window to see what Kirishima was doing. 

When he turned back, he spotted a couple walking in the distance; though he couldn’t make out their faces, their intertwined hands and the closeness they exuded was enough. Katsuki could see his breath in the air when he sighed, loudly, mind buried in the memories of what could have been—until they were close enough that he could make out their faces: and he realized, it was you.

And you looked happy with the extra, he couldn’t lie—all cheeky, rosy smiles and giggles as he told you some joke that he could barely get through without laughing himself; you were holding a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips in one hand, with the other hand clasped in his (which he occasionally brought up to his lips to kiss the back of); he was carrying both the leftovers of the restaurant you both just went to and a shopping bag from a store you’d always liked.

You looked… at peace—with yourself, your situation.

But as happy as you looked, he couldn’t help the ugly, selfish feeling boiling in the back of his throat.

Because you were just his.

Because… that should’ve been him.

It should’ve been him—holding your hand, leading you through the night with confidence, and the other holding everything you wanted to buy while you smiled and giggled on his arm. 

You’d love teasing him. You’d loved spending time with him, as little as it was.

And though he’d refused it for so long, you’d loved him too.

He’d spent weeks, months, trying to ignore that fact when the two of you were together, if you could even classify it as that—and here he was, stuck in the same fucking position; he was destined to just watch you from afar as you moved on from the cycle he’d pushed you into, while he lost himself in it instead.

Maybe he was just selfish.

Katsuki didn’t even know when he started following you both, distantly (maybe he couldn’t help it, maybe he just wanted to make sure you reached home safe)—Eijirou was an afterthought at that point—and when you’d finally reached your apartment.

The extra even offered to come up and drop the bags off so you wouldn’t have to carry them up the stairs yourself, but you declined: kissing him shortly before waving goodbye and watching him leave. 

Watching you kiss him seemed to wake Katsuki up, his glazed over eyes finally seeming to register his surroundings: the streetlamps overhead, the light from the apartments lining the building, the little crack in the paint of the building where he’d once apprehended a villain to save you, you staring at him—

—you were staring at him? Katsuki didn’t shift from where he was standing as you walked up to him, leftovers and shopping and tulips forgotten on the sidewalk in front of your apartment.

“Katsuki?” Your lips barely moved, and your hands were pressed to your sides. You were trembling slightly—and he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or him.

He didn’t answer; he couldn’t will his mouth to open in front of you.

“Wh–What are you doing here?”

Even worse, he couldn’t bear to tell you the truth.

“I uh… I was on patrol nearby.”

You stared off to that little crack in the painted wall as if you were reminiscing, avoiding his gaze—your fingers rubbing together red in the cold with wobbly knuckles.

You were freezing.

“Here,” he grunted, slowly pulling his scarf from under his neck to hand it to you. Your expression instantly changed, and though you tried to dissuade him, the visible puffs of air coming from your nose were enough to tell him that it was something you needed.

“I… Thank you…” you whispered, letting him wrap it around you. “You always said you hated the cold, so…”

“Doesn’t matter. You clearly need it more than I do.”

This was his final act, he’d decided. He couldn’t hold you back any longer—not when he couldn’t give you what you wanted and needed out of him; no, it was what you deserved. Maybe his final act of stupidity would mean enough to him in the future that he’d be able to move on; and maybe one day the stupid scarf would just be a memento you had, instead of a reminder of the hurt he knew he’d brought.

And it was all so fucking dumb and poetic—standing in the spot you’d both met, saying your final goodbyes with your happy ending just waiting in the distance: waiting for him to get out of your life so it could be whole and right again.

But when you turned around, and started walking back towards the tulips he never bought you, leftovers from the restaurants where he never took you, and the clothes he’d never offered to buy—your apartment where his sweatshirt was laying in the first, top drawer of your dresser—the words were choked out of his throat.

Because you were supposed to be just his.

And maybe the alcohol in his system had the influence, but he couldn’t let you go: not when you were the best thing that’d ever happened in his entire life. 

The echoing sound of boots slapping loudly against the pavement and your name being called out by his heavy cries was enough to stop you in your tracks—and at first he thought it was because you didn’t want to see him again: but when he called your name once more and you turned around, he learned it was because you were already crying.

“I…I love you,” he whispered when he was close enough, fighting the urge to wipe your tears away like his own weren’t following quickly behind.

“Katsuki…” you smeared your cold fingers over your face, trying to wipe away the evidence that kept falling. “I-I…Y-You…Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for those words to come out of your lips?” you couldn’t really stop the tears from falling now—and he could only pathetically watch as they did. “Do you know how much I’ve fucking ached and cried over those three stupid fucking words? And now… Now that I finally feel okay, you’re standing here—pretending like you can make it alright again? How can you–”

“I love you,” he repeated, grounding his stance in the pavement. He couldn’t let you slip straight through his fingers. “I’ve loved you since I blasted that idiot against that wall to save you. I’ve loved you since you dressed my wounds in your apartment. I’ve loved you since we met at that coffee shop again down the street. I’ve loved you through every night spent together, and through every mission spent away…” He repeated your name once more, cradling your face in his rough, cold palms like he would an oath to his heart. “And—m’sorry… I-I know I was a fuckin’ idiot this whole time not realizin’ it, and you can hate me all you want but I… I just needed you to know, ‘kay?—I couldn’t let you walk out of my life without knowing.”

He couldn’t even face you anymore, not when he could feel the tear that’d begun leaking down his cheek at the thought of you rejecting his admission: a secret he’d kept close to his heart, burying it underneath years of repression and loathing.

And now it was out in the open, left for you to stomp on if you wanted to.

“You say that now, Katsuki,” you uttered, the tears now drying on your cheeks. “But we both know that whatever this is isn’t gonna last.” You scoffed bitterly, putting your hands over his—perhaps in an attempt to remove them from where they were plastered to your skin—but instead they just rested over his while your bottom lip wobbled dangerously. 

He knew you were right. He knew that everything you said was true.

And yet—

—he kissed you anyway. 

Because you knew: that you were just his and he was just yours.

[applesaucesims]

It was already late in the night, when Judy and Keaton had left, and it was finally time for a very tired Emma and Niall to go to bed, too. While getting changed, the couple was keeping mostly quiet, their relationship still a bit strained from what Niall had done.

Just as they were about to get into bed, Niall braved breaking the silence. He knew from experience by now that keeping these issues locked in would only make them worse, so it was best to have the conversation, now that they were alone together.

As Niall had feared but expected, Emma was quite upset about what had happened. He could see the feeling of betrayal in her eyes, and it broke his heart to see the love of his life like that. He knew that his struggles were something he had to work through, but he never minded just ignoring them as long as they only hurt himself. But now, that he had started dragging the people closest to him into it, he saw how it hurt them, too, and it was almost like a last wakeup call.

He did not want his son to grow up with any of the same feelings of guilt that he had. Louis had always been a confident child, and there was no need to take that away from him, just because Niall could not figure out his own feelings sometimes. It was times like these that he was thankful to have a wife as kind-hearted and accepting as Emma was. She was a great mother, too, much more of a great parent than he was, too, he had to admit. With her there, Louis was sure to grow up keeping that positive attitude he always had.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Niall: "Perhaps we should talk about... everything?"

Emma: "Like how you've started drinking again? Just when we have a full house of children to care for?"

Niall: "Yes, I know I never should have done that. And the kiss was even worse!"

Emma: "I must admit... I felt quite hurt when you told me about that."

Niall: "I would be, too. There's no excuse for it at all. I was so stupid and... confused."

Emma: "About what?"

Niall: "Even though I know you don't mind, I still struggle to accept this part of myself. The part that's attracted to men, I mean."

Emma: "And you kissed Franklin... because of that?"

Niall: "No, well, not exactly. It's just that, when Louis talked about dancing with a boy, it's like it... triggered something in me. It somehow made me feel it could be my fault if he's, you know... like me."

Emma: "Would it be so bad if he was?"

Niall: "I- I don't know. I just don't want him to go through the same struggles I did."

Emma: "Then, shouldn't we raise him to be able to accept himself, no matter what?"

Niall: "I mean... of course!"

Emma: "Why repeat the same cycle, when we can do better?"

Niall: "I hope you're right."

[disastercyborgecho]

The End.

These are my final prompts for @summer-of-bad-batch

Excerpt:

'The era of the clone trooper was dying a quiet death.

Now, on the beach, Echo thinks that he might have been dying a quiet death too. A somber march towards the end full of rusting metal and clammy skin in solidarity with every single brother who would die in an empty base with an empty stomach and an empty heart.'

--

I used this last piece to try and explore, from the perspective of my favorite character, much of my own struggles, which is part of the reason I became so attached to him in the first place. The Bad Batch are essentially Echo's second chance at life, but more importantly, they keep giving him more chances. They are such a perfect example of how important finding joy within struggle is, and they remind me why I love Star Wars so much in the first place. Because really, in the end, the point of Star Wars is to have hope. In the face of everything, hope is our greatest weapon.

Anyway I hope you enjoy, this piece is very dear to my heart

---

Prompt: “Stop touching me!” // “I’m not touching you!”

Prompt: Crashing Hard

Prompt: Light in the Darkness

***

I did my job, I paid my dues, Love is for fools (Because nobody gives a F*ck)

---

Echo never realized how much he was terrified of change until he found himself on a beach on Pabu watching the waves crash over the sand near his mechanical feet, Rex leaning a heavy shoulder onto his own. They had not spoken for several minutes now, and the silence was heavy in Echo’s throat. 

It had all started when Rex had suggested they take a break from the endless violence and suffocating despair of their tiny freedom movement for their brothers. Echo had fallen asleep over his datapad again, trying to figure out a way to save just a little more of their kin because it felt like they would never catch up to the endless death, the endless decommissioning of their brothers as though they were just reactive pets. It was a spiral that repeated in Echo’s head every moment he had to think.

Rex had shaken him awake, the ship smoothly falling out of hyperspace as Echo had startled and flinched back into reality. His dreams were stained red now, and he always felt exhausted when he woke up.

“How much time?” He asked Rex.

Rex shifted a little, his hand still on Echo’s shoulder, and he glanced out at the stars and the approaching planet, where they were attempting to pick up more of their brothers abandoned with little to no resources, starving slowly for a New Empire. 

“Few more minutes before landfall,” Rex said. He sounded just as tired as Echo.

The mission went on without a hitch. It still hurt. 

Physically, Echo was slower now, he knew it. His body broke down faster and faster, the mechanics popping and clicking at the joins and his already unsteady immune system cracking further and further. Even the slow and steady process of loading up cargo from the base they were quietly dismantling made Echo sweat heavily through his layers of clothing and armor. But he never minded pushing past chronic pain and rasping breath when it mattered. No, what really weighed down the ex-ARC was the hollow faces of their newest rescues. 

The boys didn’t put up a fight. They rarely did anymore. Early on in the clone rebellion, many of their brothers still believed in the rhetoric of the Empire and the Cause. Were ready to die for it. But now, they had all been abandoned. It was cheaper for the Empire, lacking the Kaminoan facilities to actively decommission large amounts of clone troopers (and whose fault was that), to simply post clone troopers at far-away bases and planets that were barely in the grasp of the Empire, and then simply forgetting about them. If the clones were lucky, rations would be sent every other month or so, but as time dragged on, more and more of them were not. There was less battle now, less blood and violence, for Rex and his rebellion to rescue their brothers. Now it was just fighting the passing of time. Every new face Echo saw was empty from loneliness and starvation and the general emptiness of someone who’s had their purpose stripped away from them with no explanation or warning. He could only imagine the thousands more that would never find a new community within the family Rex was doing his best to collect. 

The era of the clone trooper was dying a quiet death.

Now, on the beach, Echo thinks that he might have been dying a quiet death too. A somber march towards the end full of rusting metal and clammy skin in solidarity with every single brother who would die in an empty base with an empty stomach and an empty heart. Echo thinks that Rex might have been able to see it, in the bags under his eyes that matched Rex’s own. In the names of those they couldn’t quite save, carefully scratched into the back of Echo’s datapad. Numbers for those that they never learned the names of. For those who never even got a name in the first place.

Echo fisted the sand in his hand aggressively and looked away from his brother and once, a long time ago, his commanding officer. He didn’t deserve this. Not with so much to still do. So many to still save. Rex laid a hand on his shoulder. It was calloused from holding a blaster and starting to wrinkle and stain from sun damage. It was familiar. Echo leaned into it despite the anger boiling in his stomach. 

Because Rex had asked him to leave.

He had taken Echo to Pabu with a suggestion of a break, and then sitting him down on the beach while Omega dragged Hunter and Wrecker further down the shoreline to search for shells, he had turned to look at his younger brother, and in a soft voice, suggested that he stay on Pabu. Permanently.

“We’re getting old, Echo. The work will never be done. But after all of this, after everything you’ve done, don’t you think you deserve the rest? You have a family here. People who love and miss you. People to grow old alongside of.”

Echo wanted to tell Rex that he was his family, but a familiar feeling of being sliced right down the middle choked him up. It felt like the moment where he had stood at the entrance of the Havoc Marauder for the first time, staring out at a group of people he would die for, had died for, knowing that he could never go back to them. That his place was with these strangers who had shown more acceptance of his new body than those he shared a face with. Than those he had shared everything with. Echo didn’t say anything. 

Rex took it as disagreement because he knew Echo so well, and he shook his head.

“Look vod’ika, this isn’t any easier for me than it must be for you. I just, I want better for you. You deserve better. You deserve to find a life, even for just a few more years, outside of, of this.” Rex gestured at himself, at his battered armor, and the dark lines under his eyes, and Echo wanted to punch him. Because Rex was everything, and the work they did together was everything, and couldn’t Rex see that underneath it all, Echo was nothing? 

And Echo was terrified that underneath it all, he really was nothing.

“There’s, there’s more to do, Rex,” he answered instead. “There’s always more to do.”

He tried to pretend that he didn’t sound defeated as he said it. 

He tried to pretend that he didn’t already know how this was going to go.

That for the second time in his life, he was going to have to split his heart in two, standing in a doorway of somewhere that was strange and unfamiliar, watching his family leave him behind because for the second time in his life, he wasn’t enough.

Echo didn’t know if there were any parts of his heart left to pick apart. So he stayed silent, and refused to look at Rex, and tried not to cry. It felt wrong in a place as beautiful as this, the sunset starting fires on the palm fronds and the water in bright oranges and reds, dancing along the horizon in a joyful celebration of another day gone. 

“Please, vod’ika,” Rex whispered, his hand still on Echo’s shoulder. “Please look at me, please say something.”

Echo could only watch the sun slip away and gasp around his lungs turning to stone. 

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

“Breath, ori’vod,” Crosshair unceremoniously dropped into the sand on Echo’s other side. He had been sitting a ways away with a book, watching Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker, but Echo hadn’t even noticed him move. He didn’t touch Echo, didn’t worm his way into the spaces Echo had carved out and left empty in case someone needed a place to rest. That wasn’t their way, it never had been. Echo appreciated it. It was just as familiar as the callouses on Rex’s hands, but right now, it felt safer. He took a deep breath.

“I…” He stopped. Took another breath. Started again. “I don’t have anything left.”

Leaning back, Echo let the last little moments of sun warm his face, closing his eyes to the onslaught of emotions tangled up inside him. His brothers were silent, letting him untangle the knots one by one. Out of anyone, Rex and Crosshair both knew how much it took to tug on those strings, not knowing what would happen when they were straightened out. What would be left. Echo continued.

“I know that it’s time to let go. I get it. I’m slowing down, I’m not as… as useful. But do I really deserve this? There’s still so many brothers left behind, and how can I–How can I call them my brothers if I give up on them? If I stay here, and, and what? Retire? I’m drowning on dry land and it feels like no one in the entire galaxy cares about us, about anyone else at all, and what am I supposed to do about it? There’s so much death and we know exactly who’s responsible, but all we can do is just sit here and be angry, and I have been angry for so long now. I don’t know how much longer I can do it. But if that’s the only thing I can do? Then what right do I have to stop? What right do I have to rest?” 

It was Rex’s turn to stay silent. Echo swiped away the tears that were running down his cheeks, cold against the sunburnt skin. He didn’t expect an answer. But Crosshair had never been great about keeping his mouth shut. 

“I spent a long time being angry.” Crosshair began. He was running his fingers along the spine of his cracked novel, something about romance that he wouldn’t admit to enjoying. 

“I spent so much time being angry, that I forgot why it was important that I was at all. I spent so much time hating you all, hating that I had been left behind, that I forgot why it was important that I was angry in the first place.” 

“Why was that?” Echo asked, softly.

Crosshair finally looked at him, smile lines only just starting to form around his eyes and mouth. His eyes were burning, staring straight at Echo, as if he was trying to silently whisper ‘I see you, I see you, I see you’ with every second. 

“Because I loved you. You’re my family.” 

And in a heartbeat, Echo got it. 

Down the shore, Omega squealed as she was lifted up by Wrecker as he cackled. He tossed her into the air and she lifted her arms up, curls whipping in the breeze as she looked as though she was flying, if just for a moment, before landing safely back in Wrecker’s arms. Squirming away as he began to tickle her, laughter bounced down the beach and Hunter joined in the playful teasing. 

“Stop! Haha, stop!” Omega cackled. “Stop touching me!” 

The whole time she was wiggling in joy, which kind of ruined the admonishment, a grin plastered on her face. Hunter and Wrecker’s expressions mirrored her, and Wrecker scooped her up again.

“I’m not touching you!” And he tossed her into the air once again.

Omega’s excited howl was heard easily by the three other men on the beach, and none of them could resist cracking a smile at her exuberance.

“Sometimes,” Rex said, “The hardest thing we can do in the face of tyranny, is to laugh.”

Crosshair nodded, and he turned to Echo one more time, finding his eyes one more time to make sure his brother truly understood.

“You are allowed to enjoy this. You are allowed to experience happiness, when it is something that they have tried so hard to keep from us.”

Finally, he leaned into Echo, Rex taking up his other side, holding their brother securely between them. And Echo collapsed. His body shook from the terror and the rage that had been coiled up in him for so long with nowhere to go. He mourned the loss of countless of his family, thousands that he never got to know. He mourned his own body, and what time had taken from him that he would never get back. But he also shook from the sheer unadulterated hope that flooded through him. Because he was still here, and he had a family who loved him unconditionally, and none of them had ever thought that this was a future any of them would ever see.

Crosshair pulled him into a keldabe and held him there firmly. Rex had his hand on Echo’s back, the other gripping the back of his neck. Omega's laughter danced with Hunter’s and Wrecker’s as they chased each other along the sands of their home.

“You’re allowed to live, Echo,” Crosshair whispered. “We all are.”

***

AO3

I can't believe I managed to finish every single prompt. It was often a challenge, but I'm actually really proud of the work I've done for this. If you'll allow me to be sappy for a moment, this was really my first foray into this community, and I am so glad that I'm here. It has been the most accepting, creative, and kind group of people that I've ever had the pleasure of talking to.

Thank you.

The song 'Lithonia' is paired with this because I found it held the two themes in this well. When you listen at first, it is the anger at loss and apathy and the meaninglessness in life. But as you read, perhaps listen to it again. Perhaps this time, it can be the freedom of knowing that it doesn't matter. And because it doesn't matter, you are free to exist in any way that brings you joy and peace.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Do you know any Nightmare x classic fics please?:) can be explicit or not, I don't really care

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Everyone Loves a Classic by Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Classic Sans... everyone has heard about their origin tale. The very character that ended up setting up all of their lives in their own universes and their own time. However, to any extent, almost no one has met him. The reason? Simple, there was no reason for them to. Whilst they all were able to talk to each other face to face, Classic was the one who never intermingled with the alternate universes. So, what happens when a chance encounter leads to all of the Undertale Au finally being able to meet the one who started it all. The very reason they too are anomalies in the grand spectrum of the universe. One thing is for sure, Classic will never be able to get a break. However, no matter how akin anybody actually does becomes to Classic, there is always something that he is hiding. All of his newfound friends and aquaintences are determined to figure out just what happens when he is not around. Why he won't allow them to go and see his universe with their own eyes. // Welcome to a general fan-book that is going to be written in a script format, because I have nothing better to do in my life and I am literally just wasting away here. Please help me, I am going to die of boredom... :'(//

The Collector of Broken Things by Redacted_Writer (Mature, Complete)

Classic knew of the AU's. He simply never thought he would meet anyone until that one fateful day, when Nightmare offered his hand. It was the best choice he would ever make, taking the offer.

The Last Remaining Enemy is Fear by Zenovy (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Classic tired of the repeating genocide route, it drained him to the point of isolating himself while unknowingly fueling Nightmare's power. After getting severly injured by Dreams arrows, Nightmare is forced to flee and find negative emotions to fuel his weakened state. That's when he stumble across Classic. After recovering he decided to snatch Classic as his forever power generator. Mutualistic symbiosis Classic emotions become a power generator for Nightmare and feels happy with the negative emotions getting vacuumed. Nightmare Vacuum the negative emotions to fuel his power. Update : hiatus (WRITER BLOCK)

Classic Nightmares by Magyka13 (Explicit, Complete)

Classic Sans goes to sleep tired after a long day on the surface Unbeknownst to Classic until it's too late, Nightmare is waiting for him in his dreams No one can save him now

Beyond Repair by LoversInMidnight (Mature, Incomplete)

Sans had lost everything. In the past, his only friend had been his anchor. The moment the world cast Sans into isolation, he lost hope. Years he remained alone without help. He was broken to the core. Even so, will someone finally see his pain and save him from the darkness, or even himself?

[flor-de-momo]

Déjà-Vu

Summary:

Sasuke and Naruto seek an impossible peace in each other, knowing that they are the "mistake" they continue to make, and the longing that will never cease to exist.

Notes: English is not my language. Sorry for the mistakes.

Unique Chapter

The full moon illuminated the sky, and the silence was broken only by the rushing water of the waterfall. Naruto's slow steps could barely be heard, as he walked distractedly, lost in old memories. The mission he had been assigned to was successfully completed and ahead of schedule, so he had a little time. He used that time to go there between the border of the Land of Fire and the Land of Sound. His own selfish feelings brought him here, a single hope that for some reason he was here too.

Without realizing it, he arrived at their meeting point — at the top of the hill of the valley of the end, at the statues of Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha, it had been a few months since he had been here, where only the wind brought life and running water brought memories, good and bad. The blond stopped when he saw a figure leaning against the tree, the profile unmistakable, even from behind.

— Sasuke.

Sasuke turned his face slowly, his gaze filled with something indecipherable. Naruto looked at him, his "friend" was still taller and was as handsome as the last time they met, his hair was longer and his bangs fell over part of his face covering part of his beautiful onyx-colored eyes.

— Naruto. I thought you still avoided this place. — was what the brunette replied. Observing Naruto and drinking in his image, the blond still seemed as small in height as the last time, perhaps the years of neglect and malnutrition really couldn't be erased.

Naruto took a deep breath, taking a few steps forward, his heart beating fast. Despite his own hopes of finding him there, he was still truly surprised to see him.

“I avoid it. But for some reason, my feet brought me here today,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He had always been a terrible liar, and they both knew it.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. It was a bitter déjà vu, as if no time had passed, but also weighing on their shoulders.

“You don’t need a self-help book,” Naruto muttered awkwardly, a small, tired smile appearing. “You just need my scent on the back of your neck.”

Sasuke let out a bitter laugh, moving away a little, but unable to avoid the spark in his eyes. The phrase was unusual, but the meaning they represented to them was deeper, these words represented feelings deeper than the war that was happening, after all, he was the one who said them for the first time.

— You're the one who needs to hear it, Naruto. It's easy for you to say this now, but... Don't forget the reason for the end. — Naruto clenched his fists, feeling a tightness in his chest. He knew. The distance, the revenge, the war, the choices each of them made. Despite the feelings that united them, the one that somehow made them come back here even after everything, it always broke him into pieces, and now all that was left was to try to put the pieces back together. Because it had been happening for some time and still Sasuke didn't give up on his own revenge for him, for them.

— I never wanted to leave your life, you know that. — He replied, his eyes as blue as the cloudless sky filled with tears. Despite what people believe, it was still his choice to try to end these encounters. Even if in the end he couldn't.

— And I never wanted you to leave — Sasuke replied, with sincere bitterness. — But in the end... I was the one who ruined everything, wasn't I? — the brunette asked, even though he didn't really need an answer, because he knew.

Naruto sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, unable to look away. Sasuke was the thorn in his soul, a pain he insisted on feeling, a mistake he would repeat if necessary. They loved each other in a way that seemed wrong, but nothing would ever compare to the intensity of that connection.

— Damn it, Sasuke. Why does it always end like this with us? — Naruto asked, almost in a whisper. A small tear ran down his face, which the blond quickly wiped away.

— I know it's a bad feeling. And even so... that's what I want to feel. — Naruto always tried, really tried to stay away from the other romantically. But he was Naruto Uzumaki after all.

Sasuke looked away, his expression closed, but Naruto knew the other's dark gaze well. It was an internal war that neither of them could win.

— Because we are like that, Naruto. — Sasuke closed his eyes, as if searching for the right words. — I am that never again that you want to repeat. That mistake that you will make again. And I will let you go because I am too selfish to really let you go.

Naruto stepped closer, the tension between them palpable. Sasuke's low voice sent chills down his spine, and he wished his words were all he needed to hear.

— So be selfish and let me stay in your life for once, teme. Just one last time. I promise I won't ask for anything else.

Sasuke hesitated, and for a moment, Naruto almost saw a hint of vulnerability in that face. Taking a step forward, Sasuke leaned in, bringing his face closer to Naruto's neck, smelling the familiar scent, his heart beating faster than he cared to admit.

— You know, Naruto... If I really let you into my life now, it'll be my fault. — Sasuke replied. — And you know why.

— And maybe it's a mistake worth making. — Naruto hugged him.

The silence between them was broken only by the sound of close breathing. Naruto felt the other's warmth, and at that moment he realized that the longing, as bad as it was, was a memory he didn't want to erase. Because that meant they would always come back to try to end it.

— I won't give up on my revenge, dobe. — The brunette replied softly in his ear, still hugging him, always reminding Naruto of his goal.

And like every time, Naruto simply pulled back a little to look into her eyes that were swirling red from the Sharingan.

Naruto knew that as long as he had this purpose their future would never be certain, that the pain would never go away. But in that moment, as the night enveloped the two, as always they decided to leave the world aside.

Because some pains are made to be felt again, and maybe Sasuke was the never again, that bad longing and little Déjà-Vu that Naruto would always want to repeat. Then their lips met and Sasuke kissed him and he reciprocated.

Notes:

The inspiration for this story came from the song DÉJÀ-VU by Luan Santana and Ana Castela.

https://youtu.be/Wjg6IUL2Pq4?si=9NEhaYMZXAdCeURY

Story also published on AO3

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest (Part 6) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 3.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Character Death (Sorry, Ice); Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Nickie finds some direction after Ice's death. Rooster and Cora talk.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

Nickie stared out at the crashing waves behind the Hard Deck, still dressed in his suit that was just a little small on him. It was the reception after Ice’s funeral and Nickie just wanted to be away from it all. It was over. Ice was gone. And Nickie didn’t want to talk about it with people who didn’t know the first thing about him.

He was tired of it. All of it. He just wanted to go home and let his bed swallow him whole.

Staring down at the metal tin that his Aunt Sarah gave him after the funeral, Nickie ran his thumb over the thin metal. The tin used to hold gum based on the stamped logo—though Nickie admittedly had to Google it—and there was something rattling around in there. There was a letter too, burning a hole in his pocket, but Nickie definitely wasn’t ready to read Ice’s last words to him. Not yet. Not for a while.

“Is that seat taken?” a familiar voice asked, causing Nickie to slowly turn around.

Viper stood behind the bench, dressed in a black suit. Although he retired from the Navy some years ago, Viper still resided in Miramar. He still saw Ice and Maverick at least on a yearly basis. And he still had that same knowing look about him every time that he ran into a new generation of Mitchell mess.

Nickie shook his head and gestured to the seat next to him. Viper walked around and slowly lowered himself onto the wooden bench. Leaning back, he folded his hands in his lap and stared out at the crashing waves, causing Nickie to do the same.

Viper was very much a part of Nickie’s life. He wasn’t in it as much as Ice or even Slider was, but Viper and his wife always had a party around the Fourth of July that Nickie and Cora would attend. And Viper picked up a babysitting shift here or there to make sure that Cora could work or go to school to support her and Nickie when he was still very young. There was no way that Viper would let Duke’s granddaughter get stuck in that position.

“Did you know?” Nickie croaked out, causing Viper to turn to him.

“Did I know what?”

“About . . . Ice,” Nickie clarified, earning a solemn sigh from Viper.

“No, I didn’t. From my understanding, the only people who knew were himself, Sarah, and a few souls here and there.” Viper studied Nickie’s expression for a moment before adding, “He wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.”

“I know,” Nickie whispered out, begrudgingly sniffling as he stared at the ground. Wiping another tear away, Nickie turned back to Viper. “How’s my mom?”

“She’s fine,” Viper assured Nickie, nodding towards the Hard Deck. “Slider’s looking after her.”

“That’s good,” Nickie replied, looking back down at the ground. “She always finds a way to blame herself for things that go wrong. Even when it’s not her fault.” Picking his head up to look out at the waves, Nickie let out a shaky breath. “I’m worried about her.”

“She’s a strong woman, Nickie. And she wouldn’t want you worrying about her.”

“I know, but with everything that’s happened this week . . .” Nickie trailed off, straightening up as he slowly turned back to Viper. For his part, Viper waited patiently for Nickie to ask the question that Viper knew he was going to ask. “Did my grandfather tell you?”

“I always knew,” Viper responded honestly, staring down Nickie for a moment. “You look too damn much like him for me to not know.”

“Like . . . Bradley?” Nickie suggested quietly.

“No,” Viper corrected Nickie, shaking his head. Nickie frowned a bit, looking confused for a moment. “Like his dad. Goose. Who he also looks the spitting image of.”

“Oh.” Nickie stared down at the ground again, gently swaying back and forth. “I guess he had some strong genes then.”

“Don’t worry,” Viper continued, leaning back again. “You got the Mitchell eyes.”

“My eyes are brown,” Nickie pointed out, turning back to Viper with a frown.

“I wasn’t talking about the color. I was talking about the look. The one that instantly makes people nervous because they’re waiting for the next thing you do,” Viper quipped, causing Nickie to pause. “I saw that look in your great-grandfather’s eyes some time ago.”

“You mean a century ago?”

“And there it is,” Viper replied without missing a beat.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments and when Viper saw the small smile gradually slipping from Nickie’s face, he turned back to face him. Thinking over his words carefully for a moment, Viper wore a somewhat grim expression.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Besides telling him to fuck off? No,” Nickie replied bluntly.

“Do you want to?”

“No,” Nickie blurted out without much thought. “He hurt my mom. He hurt my grandfather. Why the hell should I want to be around someone like that?”

“There could be many reasons,” Viper returned, staring out at the waves. “And I have a feeling that all of them have something to do with that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“Like you’ve got something to prove,” Viper stated, turning back to Nickie. “That’s wasn’t there before.”

“I don’t have anything to prove to him.”

“No, you don’t,” Viper agreed, nodding along. “So, don’t go around doing something stupid that you’ll regret because you feel like you have something to prove.” Viper turned back to Nickie with a more serious expression. “Whatever happens with Bradley, you are who you are. He doesn’t change that. No one changes that. You understand me?”

“Yeah,” Nickie replied quietly, causing Viper to pause for a moment.

“Your grandfather did that. Bradley does that. I don’t want you continuing the cycle.” Viper turned and watched the waves for a moment. “They flew like they were competing with a ghost. Trying to impress someone who’s not around to impress. And where does that lead them?” After a beat of silence, Viper turned back to Nickie. “Nowhere good. Nowhere your mom would want you to be.”

“There’s a lot of places that my mom doesn’t want me to be.”

Viper sat there for a moment, simply staring out at the waves. His expression didn’t give anything away and after a brief silence, Nickie picked his head up and turned back to Viper.

“I’m not shocked, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Viper replied, still staring at the waves.

“Are you going to tell my mom?”

“I think that I’m a little old for a tattletale,” Viper responded calmly, leaning back once more. “And besides, if you’re going down that path, there are going to be far more challenging moments in your path than talking to your mom about it.”

“You don’t think that she’ll freak out?”

“I think that she knows more about you than she lets on,” Viper stated honestly. “Mitchells are not exactly known for their subtly.”

“No, I guess not,” Nickie sighed, rubbing his face. After a moment, he straightened up. “And let me guess, you think I should talk with him, don’t you?”

“I think that you should have any conversation that you feel that you need to have so that you get that look out of your eye. Permanently.”

Nickie sighed, dropping his head until his chin practically rested against his chest. Taking a few shallow breaths, Nickie picked his head up and stared out at the waves.

“So, you think I should talk with him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Viper defended himself.

“But you think that.”

“I didn’t say that,” Viper repeated, causing Nickie to sigh again. Slowly moving to stand up, Viper shot Nickie a look when Nickie moved to offer him a helping hand. “I’m old, Cadet, but not that old.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Nickie replied with a small smile.

“And Nickie?” Viper asked as he straightened up.

“Yeah?”

“When it comes to flying, it’s best to trust your instincts and not get caught up in your thoughts.” Viper’s face grew more serious for a moment. “But when it comes to relationships, you should take some time. Alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Nickie replied to Viper with a nod.

Viper gave Nickie’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze before turning back for the Hard Deck. Nickie turned back to the ocean, once again alone with his thoughts. Reaching for his pocket, Nickie pulled out the old tin of gum that Ice passed down to him. After a moment of delay, Nickie finally popped the tin open and pushed back the top.

Reaching into the tin with a shaky hand, Nickie pulled out a set of wings. Ice’s wings. The note placed at the bottom of the tin read a simple explanation in Ice’s loopy handwriting:

My first pair of wings. May you get your own one day, kid.

~~~~~

Cora walked slowly around the Hard Deck, greeting people that she knew from long ago that she hadn’t seen in a long time, and hugging and chatting with those people that she missed over the years. She could feel Slider’s concerned glance every five seconds, but Cora held herself poised and together in front of the crowd. In front of her family.

When she was alone in her room at home, she would deal with her emotions then.

Avoiding the group of aviators gathered in the corner, Cora walked over to the window to look out at where Nickie was sitting on the bench. Viper was standing now and appeared to be heading inside, leaving Nickie alone again. Cora thought about going out there, though she knew that Nickie was getting overwhelmed with the day.

Ice was practically Nickie’s idol growing up and now he was gone. Nickie needed time to process it. So, she would give him some space. But he was still her baby and she was still going to keep a close eye on him during this time.

Rooster, from his spot in the corner that Cora was avoiding, stared after Cora as she stood at the window. He followed her gaze and spotted Nickie sitting out on the bench, staring down at his hands. Phoenix, who was sitting beside Rooster, glanced out the window too before turning forward and reaching for her beer.

“Why does Mav’s grandson look like your twin?” Phoenix asked quietly, not looking to cause a scene. “And before you answer, do I need to be drunk to hear this?”

“It’s a long story,” Rooster replied, turning back to look at Cora.

“And the tall guy over by Mav who keeps glaring daggers at you?” Phoenix added on.

“That would be Slider,” Rooster explained, not even having to look over at him. “He used to fly with Mav and Ice and . . . my dad for a bit.”

Phoenix nodded slowly, reaching for her beer again. Taking a slow sip, she turned back to Rooster, who was still staring at Cora, looking like he was itching to get up and talk to her.

“Did you fuck up?”

“Massively,” Rooster replied, causing Phoenix to nod again.

“Well, if you want to fix it, you have about a week to do it. Probably less,” Phoenix reminded Rooster. Sharing a look with Bob, who heard their whole conversation, but would be sworn to secrecy, Phoenix got up from the table. “We’ll give you some space.”

Phoenix and Bob walked off, chatting between themselves as they made their way over to where some of the other Daggers were sitting. Rooster sat alone for a moment, lost in his thoughts, before he slowly stood up from his seat. Holding his dress cap in his hand, Rooster made his way over to the window where Cora was still standing, watching Nickie out on the bench.

If she felt his presence or noticed him walking over, she did not acknowledge him. She just kept her gaze focused on Nickie.

“Cora?” he gently called with his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yes, Bradley?” she answered, not moving her gaze from her son.

“Can . . . are you alright?” Bradley questioned, earning a long exhale from Cora.

“I can take care of myself, Bradley. Don’t worry about me.”

“And . . . Nickie?”

“I am more than capable of taking care of my son,” Cora practically hissed, turning back to Bradley with a sharp, defensive look in her eye.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bradley replied, bowing his shoulders a bit under the weight of Cora’s glare. “I just . . . can we talk? Please?”

Cora glared up at him and for a moment, Bradley wondered if she was going to reel around and smack him straight across the face. She certainly looked like she wanted to do that. But eventually, she broke the eye contact and looked back out at the bench, where Nickie was sitting alone.

“Fine,” she breathed out, turning for the door.

They walked outside of the Hard Deck, well aware of the number of eyes trained on them. Cora quietly asked Penny to keep a close eye on Nickie while she was gone, before leading Bradley down the boardwalk and away from prying ears and invading eyes. Cora didn’t say anything. She just simply wrapped her arms around herself and kept walking forward with Bradley trailing behind her.

Once they were towards the end of the parking lot and closer to the beach, she turned around sharply, the small heel of her shoe clicking on the worn wood of the boardwalk. Her pose was defensive and her gaze was hardened, like she was gearing up for a fight.

“What do you have to say?” Cora demanded, causing Bradley to look at the ground for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, earning a sharper glare from Cora.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific there,” Cora responded sharply.

“For the whole . . . incident. At your house,” Bradley added, lamely in Cora’s opinion.

“The one that you caused?” Cora suggested harshly. When Bradley didn’t respond, Cora let the maternal anger that she felt ever since she watched Nickie’s face crumble that night just come bursting out. “Why the hell did you decide to show up after seventeen years and traumatize the kid that you already fucked up by never showing up in the first place!?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“—I don’t give a shit!” Cora interjected, cutting off Bradley before she could hear any more of his ridiculous excuses. Because then she might have actually throttled him. “Do you have any idea of what it feels like to be rejected by one of your parents? To be tossed aside!?”

“I never—”

“—You have no idea what it feels like to have one of your parents just decide that they don’t give enough of a shit about you to stick around! You have no idea what it’s like going through your whole fucking life wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone to stick around, blaming yourself for other people’s actions!”

Bradley knew that Cora wasn’t talking about Nickie so much anymore, but rather herself. It was hard to forget the conversations that a much younger Cora had with Carole and with Maverick about her birth mother. And he remembered holding her as she cried when she found out that the woman who gave birth to her went on to get married and have three kids with another man.

And, based off the limited interactions that he saw between Nickie and Cora, she didn’t leave much room for doubt about the lengths she would go through to protect Nickie.

“You have no idea what it feels like to just think you’re a giant asshole because hey, one of your parents stuck around and loved you and cared for you and you have plenty of people in your life who stepped up to be there for you, but all you can think about is the one person who was always supposed to be there who didn’t bother to give a single shit about you in the first place! You don’t Bradley!”

Cora pointed a finger straight at Bradley’s face and he quickly noticed how hard it was shaking.

“You decided to walk away and never look back! You decided to leave! That wasn’t my choice, that wasn’t my dad’s choice, that wasn’t Nickie’s choice, that was yours. So, the only person that you have to blame for this is yourself, Bradley!”

“I know!” Bradley raised his voice, causing Cora’s glare to intensify. But the tension slowly seeped out of Bradley and his shoulders sunk a bit more as he dropped his head. After a few moments of silence, Bradley picked his head up. “I know, Cora.”

“Great,” Cora replied, somewhat sarcastically. “What are you going to do about it then?”

“I changed my will,” Bradley stated, causing Cora to stare at him incredulously. “Look, we both know what can happen in this line of work and I still have all of the money that my mom and grandparents left me and—”

“—You think I want your money?” Cora practically hissed, sending him a look that instantly made him feel stupid. “What? You think that the only reason I wanted you around was for money? You think that low of me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Bradley defended himself. “But I’m assuming that Nickie’s going to go off to college in a few years and I can help.”

“I don’t want your money, especially if you think that all of this bullshit is just going to go away in an instant because you decided to pay for something for the first time in seventeen years,” Cora replied, waving her hands angrily around.

“I know that it won’t,” Bradley assured her, causing Cora to fold her arms across her chest again. “I know, Cora.” Bradley glanced back at the Hard Deck and in the direction of the beach, where Nickie was still sitting out on the bench. “But I . . . I want to make it right. With you. And with Nickie. And I know that there’s not a lot of time left, but I want to try.”

“Well, in addition to a lot of other traits that he inherited from you, he got your ability to hold a grudge,” Cora somewhat snapped, causing Rooster to wince and look away for a moment. “And frankly, he’s been through enough today. This century, actually.”

“I understand,” Rooster replied softly. He looked down at the ground for a moment before picking his head up again. “Do you think that . . . he would want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” Cora stated quietly, honestly not sure about the answer herself. “That’s a question for him, not me. But I’m not going to force him to have a relationship with anyone. Dad or not. He’s not a baby anymore. He’s more than old enough to make those kinds of decisions for himself.”

Rooster nodded slowly, staring down at the ground again. Sniffling, he turned back to Cora, who stared evenly back at him. She had cried all of the tears that she had to cry over this. And now, she just wanted the pain, the suffering, the angst to be over. She wanted it over for herself. And she definitely wanted it to disappear for her son.

“Why did you name him after my dad?” Rooster asked Cora, causing her to pause.

“It wasn’t a tough decision,” Cora replied after a few moments. “I mean, I couldn’t count the number of times that you said you wanted to name a son after your dad. And with all of the stories that my dad and your mom told us . . . I wanted Nickie to have those same kinds of traits. Kind and caring. Smart. Loyal. Someone that people trusted and knew that they could turn to when they needed help.” Cora looked down for a moment. “A good, honest man. That’s who I wanted my son to be.”

“I’m sorry, Cora,” Bradley repeated again, causing Cora to breathe in and out to steady herself. “I’m so sorry.”

“All you had to do was come back,” Cora whispered out, her voice breaking with emotion. “That’s all I wanted you to do.”

She tried to compose herself when the sound of footsteps caused her and Bradley to turn. Slider approached them slowly, clearly not trying to sneak up on them. Cora took a step away from Bradley to face Slider, discreetly wiping her tears away.

“Nickie’s looking for you,” Slider stated, causing Cora to nod.

She spared one last glance for Bradley before walking back towards the Hard Deck. Bradley watched her go before turning to meet Slider’s sharp glare. Spinning his cap in hand, Rooster straightened up a bit as he met Slider’s stare.

“Slider,” Rooster greeted him stiffly.

“Rooster,” Slider returned, with quite a bit of sass behind it.

With one last harsh look, Slider turned and walked back the way that he came, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts.

Cora, meanwhile, stepped back into the Hard Deck to grab Nickie and Maverick and head home. Walking through the dwindling crowd, she paused when she spotted something pinned to Nickie’s suit jacket that wasn’t there before.

Wings. A set of wings.

Nickie stared at his mom, more than a bit nervous about how she would react to his choice. His grandfather hadn’t really shown any emotion since they got the news that Ice passed, so Nickie wasn’t expecting a reaction out of Maverick today. But Cora? Nickie was really worried about her reaction.

Cora slowly walked over to where Nickie was standing beside Penny and Sarah. She didn’t say anything at first, staring at the wings on his lapel. And then she simply pulling Nickie into her arms and gave him a squeeze.

“Did you want to go home?” she asked quietly, holding her son for a moment.

“Yeah,” Nickie replied, just as quietly.

“Then let’s go home.”

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue