#(saying this as I'm trembling in fear after experiencing their fight for the first time)

[daysneezes]

Waiter! Waiter! More Misty please!!

[clare-875]

Where Are You? (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Luffy x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Sanji x Reader Summary: They can't find you after a battle. Warnings: Descriptions of injury and blood, angst, comfort, Marineford spoilers and slight PTSD for Luffy's. Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy - (A/N: This was angstier than I originally was going for, sorry!)

"Oi, Nami..." Luffy's gaze fights between untamed trepidation and utter despair as he looks down at his navigator, who bore the same look in her eyes. "Where's [y/n]?" There is a deep and unwavering silence until Nami speaks up from where she sat, exhausted, shaky voice reaching the air. "I-I thought she was with you, she stayed back to fight the enemy w-while I escaped. Luffy I-" More crewmates gather from the now destroyed town, wiping debris from themselves and cradling injuries won through their respective battles. "Hey, what's going on?" Zoro first interrupts the tense atmosphere as Nami gazes into her Captain's shadowed eyes, betraying rare worry. This battle had been formidable and deadly. It was obvious in the way the crew were clad with cuts and bruises, and it had been hours since you had been left to deal with your opponent. "I'm going to go look for her!" Luffy leaves the scene despite hearing the worried call from Nami and the confused words of the rest of the crew.

Normally, Luffy wouldn't be worried about his crewmates, especially you. He held them to a great standard and had great trust in them; there was nothing they couldn't overcome in his mind. However, he would be lying to say he wasn't worried for you now. Despite burying the feeling every time he and the crew faced battle, it was hard to ignore the lingering dread, especially after having experienced the potential consequences of warfare with Ace. He needed you safe. He needed you with him and his crew. He couldn't lose you too. Too much time has passed in his mind, and he flung his outstretched limbs as far as they would go, to the place where Nami had left you to fight. Maybe he was overreacting, but Luffy couldn't risk anything with you. You brought out that serious side in him, you brought forth the dread of losing someone again.

When Luffy finally makes his way to the scene he witnesses the destructions, etched with the uniqueness of your battle techniques. The ground had been upturned, buildings indented with impacts and smoking in the wake of your battle. In the midst, he sees your opponent, unconscious and lets relief fill his system; you have won. Then, his eyes scour the scene and land on whisps of [h/c] hair, which leads to a familiar face. Luffy feels his heart pound once, twice before picking up pace. You were there, but you were unconscious, were you-. Luffy runs, and he feels that unfamiliar feeling twist in his chest once more; dread, fear, worry. The emotions were so unnatural to him, but so was love, until you taught him the sensation. "[y/n]!!" He yells quickly, and reaches your side in an instant, as trembling hands take your bloodied face into his lap.

"Hey, [y/n]!! [y/n]!! Are you-"

Luffy doesn't know what to do and considers running you back to Chopper. But finally, he sees it: your eyes. They flutter open and your gaze adjusts to the sight of Luffy, except his face is adorned with emotions you had yet to familiarise yourself with. "L-Luffy?" You sit up steadily, wincing slightly, but okay nonetheless. Your boyfriend stares in silence, and your concern only deepens at his far-away gaze. You grab his shoulders gently, "Hey, Luffy... are you okay?" A moment passes before Luffy shakes his head from his trance, as though finally with you again. "Y-Yeah." You frown deeper at his uncharacteristic response, but you know deep down the events of Marineford are still fresh in his mind.

When Luffy looks at you, he can only grip at his reality and try to acknowledge that you are there with him... that you are alive and safe. Your eyes linger on his face as you pull him into a hug that he didn't know he needed. "I'm sorry Luffy, I must've passed out, let's go now. I'm sure there's a banquet waiting for us." With that, Luffy finally shakes free from the haunting feeling that lingered just earlier. You finally witness the quirk of his lips as he nods and tells you to hold on to him. He flings you back to the crew that waves and smiles at you in relief. That night, Chopper frantically checks up on you anyway, and Luffy pays closer attention to you. You on the other hand make sure Luffy's lingering smile deepens, and returns to that full, wide, joy you know it should always encompass

As the night loiters on, you see the normalcy seep back into celebration. By the end, Luffy dances with you and eats like his life depends on it. You smile softly and he grins; all is well in his world because all is well with you.

- Zoro -

You gasp as you pull your limbs out of the debris that had fallen in the impacts of your battle. You cradle an arm you know had likely broken and take in a stuttering breath as you pull yourself back to your feet. Almost instantly, you feel pain. Great, you think to yourself, a broken arm and a broken ankle, just what I needed. You momentarily lose balance before gritting your teeth and forcing yourself still. The battle had been more tedious and time-consuming than you had originally hoped, but in your mind, it was worth it to witness your agitating opponent finally bite the dust. You gaze upward towards the falling sun. You had let too much time pass, and you had to get back to your crew; you had to make sure they were safe. So, despite the pain you limp and try to ignore the raging discomfort as you make your way further from your fallen foe.

Quite a ways further from you, Zoro looked around him whilst trying to deny that it was worry he felt at the lack of your presence. Crew members were now having their injuries checked up on or being slowly pulled into preparations to celebrate victory. Too busy being doted on by grateful, new friends or being lulled into the temptation of food and drink, there hadn't been much time to settle and do a head count. But Zoro noticed; of course, he did. He could deny all he wanted, but you were the first thing he looked for post-battle. He had great trust in you and your abilities; you were strong, dependable and courageous. He never doubted you, but time ticked on, and unrest ate up at him. Where were you? You should be here by now.

"Where's [y/n]?"

Robin is the next crewmember to look around in concern at your absence but she is the first to actually voice the lack of you. Her words catch the attention of other crewmates as Nami and Sanji also turn and look around the vicinity. "Now that you mention it... when was the last time any of you saw her?" Zoro's heart rate only picks up further despite eyeing his crewmates in silence, listening as they question your whereabouts. Luffy starts to bound over as he witnesses his crew start to clump together, worry betraying them. "What's happening?" Zoro turns once his Captain has entered the fray, already having started to move before registering the rest of the crew's increasingly uttered words. "Oi, Marimo, wait you'll get lost before you even-" But he is too far by the time Sanji notices that Zoro has gone, most likely to look for you. "Tch, we should send someone else to look for [y/n]-san too."

Zoro walks briskly through the barren streets and takes himself far from where the smoke of the campfire rages behind him, marking the beginning of a banquet. His keen ears pick up on odd sounds in the area, but none of them are you, and his horrible sense of direction has betrayed him again. Where were you? It was dark now, and the moon lingered in the sky. Abruptly, there is a tangible dread that twists uncomfortably in the swordsman's chest; he knows that you should've been back by now. If you weren't something must've happened, but Zoro refuses to acknowledge what that 'something' could be. Surely you wouldn't be- Suddenly, there is a ruffle of trees to his far right and he turns quickly, instincts forcing his hands to his swords. Someone was here. "Oi, show yourself!" There is a tense silence, until finally, Zoro hears the one thing he had been hoping for: your voice.

"Really Zoro? You can't even recognise your own girlfriend?"

Amid trees and branches, you finally break away into the clearing albeit with exhaustion and injury weighing you down. You breathe heavily and you would never say it but you felt such relief at seeing Zoro, that you could cry. But, your pride holds your tears and instead, you smile, grinning at him and holding yourself up with as much strength as you can muster. The swordsman who looks at you finally feels the worry dissipate but his eyes travel your form and the way your arm bends an awkward way or how you clearly favour one leg to the other. "Oi, [y/n], what took you so long?" Zoro lets out a deep sigh as he relaxes his stance but would rather die than admit his concern to you, and so masks it behind nonchalant words. You, however, have hoarded so much pain, that you feel as though on the brink of collapse.

"Yeah, yeah, help me out here?" You reach out to him, longing for some sort of support, but Zoro's sharp eyes widen as he sees you topple. Almost instantly you feel warm arms wrap around you. When next you open your eyes you are cradled against your boyfriend's chest and held firm but gently. Your gaze drifts to his face and you laugh as you see the slight flush of red fill his cheeks. "Where you worried, Zoro?" You tease, trying to lighten the mood, but your head lulls into him, as you finally feel the safety of being back in his arms. "Tch, don't be ridiculous." You smile softly, too tired to reply, but you point in the opposite direction of where he walks. "Zoro, that way." You mutter against him and he turns sharply, a more fierce blush rising to his face. You laugh before letting sleep pull you in. Zoro almost starts yelling in panic until he sees you have merely drifted off; you don't see the worry he held onto just moments earlier, almost causing him to turn the town over to find you.

"Don't do that again, idiot." His words are murmured to you, and he holds you closer, but you don't hear them, too far in your sleep.

- Sanji -

"[y/n]-san!!" Sanji's eyes are almost wild as they turn left to right, his legs lit aflame as he moves across the destroyed town, searching every nook for a glimpse of your face. Worry pounds in his chest and he barely has the time to care that he has gone and lost his composure. "Sanji-kun!" Nami speaks up from behind him, but she barely has the will to keep up her angry facade when she witnesses concern radiating from the cook; she was worried too, after all. Nami sighs heavily as Sanji looks at her with his teeth gritted. "Calm down, I'm sure she's alright, maybe-" Her words are meant to be of comfort, but Sanji has been looking through the town for too long, and he merely needs you with him again. He needs you safe and in his arms. So though trying to hold onto words spilled in their reassurance, only you could calm the worry he holds now.

"Oi, Sanji!" The cook turns at the sound of Luffy's voice as he bounds over, rare sincerity coming from his Captain. "Have you found her yet?" Sanji could do nothing but shake his head because he hadn't. He can't find you. It had been hours since you were left to deal with your opponent, and he had found them battered and obviously defeated by you. But where were you? He had been searching with some of his crew for a while now, and every instant he felt his hope start to slip away; he felt failure creep up on him. In his mind, it was his duty to make sure that you were safe; he hated even the faintest scratch on your skin. But he also wanted to place his trust in you. Despite having to resist his instinct to protect, he wanted you to fight your own battles for your own pride, but now he feels himself regretting having run off with another enemy; he should've stayed by your side.

Sanji continues through the barren streets, and he prays to whatever being he has to pray to, holding on to the slim hope that you are safe. As crew members also disperse in their concern for you, he pulls back the debris, now almost scared to see what he could find. Were you injured? Were you taken? Were you- "S-Sanji..." For a moment, the blond-haired cook freezes and he feels his heart beat faster, if that were even possible. "S-Sanji, that you?" Sanji had never raced towards the sound of someone's voice faster than he had in that moment. "[y/n]-san!? [y/n], where are you?" He is met with the quiet once again, and he fears it might've been a trick of his mind until finally, your voice lingers once again. "Here, I'm trapped... can't breathe." His eyes turn sharply to a building, and beneath the debris, he eyes your arm reaching upwards, desperately trying to gather his attention. "[y/n]-san..."

Sanji moves as though his life depends on it, ripping away rubble and fragments of building built upon you. His hands bleed by the end of it but he doesn't seem to care because finally, he sees your face. "Love!" Sanji, tears away the final pieces of destruction that had piled around you and gently pulls you free from your encasement. He gathers you in his arms and his embrace, relishing your warm body against his. "S-Sanji." When the cook finds the will to pull away he allows relief to wash away his dread, but not the concern as he sees your half-lidded eyes, straining in your exhaustion. "Love, let me find Chopper." You had never seen Sanji so serious. He holds you in his arms and runs as fast as his legs would take him, lit ablaze as he scours the scene for the sight of the crew's doctor.

When he finally does, he wastes no time.

"Chopper!" Almost immediately there is action, as crewmembers gather at the sight of you in Sanji's arms, and Chopper's eyes widen at the state you're in. "[y/n]!" You had lost consciousness by the time the small reindeer could look over your state, and Sanji silently suffered his worry once more, reaching for a cigarette. Long moments pass in the aftermath, and it is only hours later when you wake amid celebrations of victory. When you turn to your side, Sanji is already there, watching crewmembers feast upon the banquet that marks the end of another fight. As he turns and meets your eyes, you see them widen and you smile gently. "Love! You're awake, thank God!" Sanji reaches over to you and you laugh as you gather him in your arms. "I-I'm so sorry. If I had-" But you cut off your lover and you hush him quickly with the clasp of your hand around his.

"Thank you, for saving me."

Sanji looks down on you, battered and bruised but safe and with him. He smiles softly at you and squeezes your hand in his, as though in silent promise: he would never see you lost to him again. You grin at the serene expression that has finally filled his face but are interrupted by the rumble of your stomach as you pause and feel heat rush to your face. "I- I guess I am a bit hungry after all the-" But of course, you barely have to finish your sentence. Sanji has a platter in his hand, full of all the foods you could want with determination in his eyes. "Please, let me love." In that moment, you let Sanji take care of you because it seemed that was what he longed to do, after holding onto his concern for so long. Just never leave him in that state again, he doesn't know if he could take that.

[hopingforgoodblogs]

The Fight

hey guys! so this is my first fic! ive always loved writing and i LOVE reading tumblr fics so i thought why not? lmk below if you like it and send me requests of what you want next! this WILL have multiple parts btw ;)

Modern Ellie x fem!reader

WARNINGS: cursing, VIOLENCE, d slur, abuse (please lmk if i missed anything that might’ve needed to be put in the warnings!)

Ellie Williams. Your childhood best friend. You guys were the duo that everyone recognized in the halls. You being the soft, innocent-presenting, good girl and Ellie being the more hardcore, dominant rebel. A common but iconic duo, if you will. You guys were never seen separated. That was until today. 

The night prior was very emotionally draining for the both of you (physically for Ellie). You had gotten into a serious argument. You both had gotten into disagreements and have bickered before, but not like this. 

FLASHBACK TO NIGHT PRIOR

You guys were at a party with your boyfriend. You and Ellie were already over this stupid party and since your boyfriend was wasted enough, you tried to leave. You were trying to calmly get him to stop drinking so you guys could just dip but he wasn’t having it.

“Babe, please stop drinking so much. Let’s go. It’s getting late and you’ve had enough.”

“No, I’m not done!” He slurs, his voice cracking and volume increasing.

“Oh shut the fuck up. You’re shouting is gonna burst my eardrums. If you don’t come on I’m leaving your drunk ass here,” Ellie jumped in, practically hissing her words, the annoyance and anger clear in her voice.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, bitch?” Your boyfriend snaps back, getting closer to Ellie. Her face scrunches up in disgust. His hot breath, which reeks of alcohol and beef jerky, hitting her nose.

“If you don’t back the fuck up,” She takes a deep breath, gritting her teeth, “I will beat you sober,” She retorts, purposely getting spit on his face. He jolts slightly at the contact and in disgust. 

He laughs at her remark, getting up in her face, “Yeah like I’d get beat up by a scrawny little dyke like you.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Anyone around could feel the sudden change in the air. Your eyes go wide and you freeze in a state of panic, knowing how violent Ellie can get. This isn’t her first time publicly experiencing this. The last situation didn’t end so well. Your mind starts racing at the speed of light trying to figure out what might happen or what you should to do. Instinctively you run between them, placing your hands on Ellie's shoulders, pushing her back in an attempt to restrain her from getting close to your boyfriend. 

“What the fuck did you just call me? Say it again! Say it! I fucking dare you!” If you weren't there to control her, she would’ve blacked out and killed the guy. 

She keeps shouting at him and you remove your hands from her shoulders to cup her face, “Ellie please! He’s not worth it! Let’s just go.” She stops her shouting and looks into your watering eyes. She can not only see fear in your eyes but can feel the fear in your hands. They were trembling. Why is she trembling? She thought. Her eyes shuffled back and forth between yours and very quickly at your lips which were also quivering. 

After a beat of studying your worried expression, she responds, “Okay, fine. But I'm leaving him here.” She grabs your hand so she doesn’t lose you in the crowd of people. As you walk away, your boyfriend catches a glimpse of Ellie holding your hand and he starts to hunt toward you angrily. He grabs your shoulder tight and aggressively swings you around, slapping your face hard. You fall to the ground in embarrassment, cupping your now red-handed cheek. At that moment Ellie lost herself. Her expression darkened and she ran towards him, making him fall. She got on top of him, beating his face in. Horror and fear were written all over your face. You were sobbing, begging Ellie to stop.

"Ellie, please! Stop it! You're gonna kill him!"

"Wouldn't be such a bad thing. This dipshit doesn't deserve to fucking breathe!" She continues to hit him. She's beaten him so much that he can't even form a sentence.

You start to hyperventilate at the sight of your boyfriends face, now unrecognizable, "Ellie stop it! You've done enough!" The genuine fear in your voice finally snaps her back into reality. She stops herself and stares at him. He's struggling and gasping for air. If Ellie hadn't woken up from her rage she would've for sure killed him. She slowly stands up, wiping the blood from her hands, and reaches for yours. 

"Let's go," She softly speaks, trying to be as gentle as possible. You hesitantly grab her hand and you guys leave the party. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

[perkypeony]

I'm feeling angsty but I don't wanna cry alone. So I'll make the whole fandom cry 😈

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝕋ℝ𝕆ℕ𝔾𝔼𝕊𝕋'𝕊 𝕆ℙℙ𝕆𝕊𝕀𝕋𝔼

Gojo Satoru x little sister reader

The estate of the Gojo clan always seemed more like a prison to you. You were the prisoner, the tortured disgrace, a cruel joke of fate that was never meant to see the light of day.

Your parents ensured your existence was kept a secret, telling the world that you had died shortly after birth due to a severe health condition. In reality, you were very much alive, though barely, and kept breathing by your cursed energy. The doctors called it a miracle. Your parents saw it as a curse.

You were the opposite of your perfect older brother, Satoru. You didn't inherit any Gojo clan cursed techniques. And worse, you could produce cursed spirits whenever you felt bad emotions just like the non-sorcerers.

From a young age, you were confined to the estate, hidden from visitors and locked away in the basement whenever you couldn’t control your emotions. The basement was a place of darkness and fear, where cursed spirits born of your anguish tormented you until you passed out from exhaustion or terror.

The only light in your life was Satoru. Unaware of your suffering, he believes that you led a normal childhood despite your health condition. Every time he came back from Tokyo Jujutsu High, you felt genuine happiness, a rare and fleeting emotion.

"Satoru! You're back!" You would exclaim, the pain momentarily forgotten. He would spend his time with you, read you a book or listen to your rambling. One time he brought you out to get ice cream, that was the best day of your life. You sure get scolded after that but it definitely worth it. His presence was a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you were worth something.

But one day, Satoru came home unexpectedly after a mission, and the facade crumbled. Your father was dragging you towards the basement, your screams echoing through the halls.

"Please, don't! Not again!" you pleaded, your voice breaking with desperation.

He followed the sounds and found you struggling against your father's grip. "What are you doing to them?" he questioned, his voice cold and dangerous.

Your father froze, unable to meet his son's gaze. Satoru didn't wait for an explanation. He took you by the hand, and for the first time, you felt safe.

Satoru brought you to his house, determined to give you a chance at real life. You met Megumi first, who became your first friend. After that, you got to become a student at Tokyo Jujutsu High where Satoru's a teacher there. Slowly, you got to know Nobara and Yuji, and for a while, you experienced normal life.

But happiness was a fragile thing. The higher-ups soon learned of your existence and demanded to see you. If Satoru was there he would come with you, but unfortunately he was away on a mission.

"You are a disgrace to the sorcerer society," one of them sneered, and the dam of your emotions broke. A powerful cursed spirit finally erupted from you.

They ordered for you to be locked in a room where your cursed energy would be restrained. Without it, you began to weaken rapidly. The cursed energy that had kept you alive was now being siphoned away, leaving you on the brink of death.

You woke in the infirmary, your body frail and exhausted. Satoru sat beside you, his usual blindfold hiding his teary blue eyes, but his voice gave away his sorrow. "I'm here, " his voice cracking. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you. "

You reached out and grasped his hand. "Satoru, I'm so tired," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I've spent my whole life fighting just to exist. I think it's better if I just die."

His hand tightened around yours, his voice trembling. "Don't say that. Please, don't give up."

You gave him a sad smile. "Thanks for all the happiness you've given me, even if it just for a while. But, it's time for me to rest. Don't worry, I'll die without regret. I'm happy to get to know you better. "

Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji gathered around your bed, their faces etched with sorrow. Each goodbye was a dagger to your heart, but you managed to smile through the tears.

"Thank you," you said, your voice weak. "For being my friends. For giving me a taste of what life could be."

They left one by one, and finally, it was just you and Satoru. He held you close, his tears falling freely.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you better."

"You did your best," you murmured. "And that's all that matters."

With a final, shuddering breath, you let go. The darkness enveloped you, but this time, it was a gentle embrace. You felt no fear, no pain. Only peace.

[thatonetwig]

Love your work! Also, I'm a bit of a fan of Hood x Void, and the ship name you gave for them is very cool! Speaking of, what do you think would happen if Hood encountered Void's A.C. form for the first time?

Perfect time to share one of my excerpts!

...

Hood slowly opened his eyes and looked around in confusion while still feeling disoriented.

"What...happened?", he questioned himself.

Suddenly, he looked up and saw Void floating above the arena with purple sparks forming at his feet. Hood stood up, and he realized that Void was now a darker shade of purple than he usually was.

"Void?! Void! Are you okay?! What happened?!", he called out to him.

Void turned around and saw Hood down below.

"Heh...took you long enough to wake up. Just in time to witness the destruction of the universe...", he said in a voice deeper than Void's own.

The realization struck Hood like a meteorite; he wasn't talking to Void. Rather, something entirely different speaking through his body like a parasite.

"Y-you! Who do you think you are?! W-what have you done with Void?!", Hood demanded angrily.

"Oh you simple-minded organism...haha...", the entity laughed.

"You can refer to me as...A.C. And to put it simply, he's gone. Void is gone."

Hood's anger immediately shifted into fear and an overwhelming sense of despair when he heard those words.

"W-what d-do you m-mean...?", he questioned shakily.

"Well, I was something about him that he didn't tell you about. He was scared; scared of you leaving him for what he truly was beneath the surface...honestly so pathetic...", A.C. said in a taunting manner that felt like a knife being plunged directly into Hood's heart.

"H-he...d-didn't tell me...b-because he was scared...?", Hood asked, sounding like he was about to cry any moment now.

"You heard me correctly. Anyway, before everything else is reduced to nothing, I wanted to strike a deal with you.", A.C. said in a casual manner.

Hood raised his head in shock as he stared up at the entity once again.

"A...deal?"

"Yeah. Imma be honest, in spite of the many times I cringed at you two, it did give me a good laugh from time to time.", A.C. replied.

"So, as a bit of a thank you, I'll spare you from the destruction of this universe as we know it if you don't get in my way. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Hood lowered his head in despair as his voice trembled heavily.

"Y-ye-"

Suddenly, Hood caught himself mid-sentence and felt something awaken within him. It was a feeling that he had never experienced this intensely before; determination. But it wasn't the kind that urged him to run away from danger. No. it was the kind that urged him to fight against it in-spite of his own capabilities. Feeling this, he raised his head once again and looked the entity directly in the eyes.

"No! We don't have a deal! I know Void is still in there somewhere! You think I'll just let you get away with this after all you've done?! You sure as hell won't so long as I'm here! You ain't destroying the universe! Not now, not ever!", Hood shouted in pure determination as he got into a fighting stance.

"Ha...", A.C. chuckled.

"You know, they really were right when they said that love makes you blind to even the biggest of red flags...gotta laugh at the stupidity, really.", A.C. said as the sparks at his feet grew in intensity.

"No matter...you're just another speck in the universe at the end of the day that will be squashed like a bug under my shoe. You ready?", A.C. asked.

Hood didn't back down and nodded his head and taunted the entity with his fists.

"Hehe...should've run away when you had the chance."

[blackjackkent]

We do get some more chat with Jaheira and Minsc before sleepz though!

"I think you might have made a terrible, terrible mistake. Chasing rumor halfway around the city and back. Crossing the Guild, wading through filth, defying the one creature upon whom your very life depends. All for a madman and his rodent."

"The Absolute threatens thousands - the entire Coast - and still you risked much to help one man. I should berate you, but... I can only say thank you."

"Your reasons were your own, but whether you meant for it or not, your fight is our fight. Both of us. To the very end."

Aw. <3 Jaheira is so fkn great, and look at the big grin Hector gets when she says she's with him to the end:

He really likes both Jaheira and Minsc a LOT to be honest. Jaheira reminds him a little of some of some of the older monks at the monastery (well, older when he was a young man; he was just starting to become one of those older monks himself when the nautiloid hit); she's wise and experienced and does not wear her heart on her sleeve, but she's also very kind, clearly feels things deeply under the surface, and believes strongly in the work that they are doing. And Minsc is... well, Minsc. I think on some level he reminds Hector of Karlach - intense balls-to-the-wall fighter with tremendous energy and a kind heart - and he would clearly put himself between any of them and danger in a heartbeat.

No matter what Jaheira says... it was worth it to help them both.

Amusingly, one of the dialogue options here is "Hm. None of that was a thank you," but like. It literally was? She literally said the words "thank you" two lines ago. XD

Instead, Hector just teases her gently - as I've noticed he's now done several times; it's not entirely characteristic of him, and speaks to the fact that he feels very comfortable with her and the sort of person that she is.

"Don't go getting sentimental on me, Harper," he says with a slight smile.

She laughs, and to his surprise he does hear a hint of a catch in it, a slight tremble that hints of tears. It is honestly rather touching; all of a sudden there is nothing of the frustration that came out earlier in the conversations, none of the sardonic deprecation or fear for the road ahead. She is tired; they have reached the end of the day and Minsc is safe - for all that he should never have been in danger in the first place, she has been worried for him for so many months... and now it is done, and he is safe. He is not another friend she has had to see into the ground.

"Ah," she says ruefully. "Those misty eyes are just age. Yes, I feel myself growing older as we stand here. So... lead the way. We are yours to command."

The message is clear; whatever tangled cocktail of emotions she is feeling at present, it is none of his business and she does not want to talk about it. He can certainly relate to that. But the understanding is between them, all the same.

-----

"Fine lodgings you have found, my friend! Boo is already in negotiations with the guardian spirits of this place. In Baldur's Gate, they are likely to be rat-formed and eager to charge rent. But Boo shall secure safe slumber for all! Now - what do you need of Minsc?"

I love him, your honor.

I also love the mental image this conjures of Boo sitting up guard and judo-chopping any rats that try to crawl out of the sewers.

"I'd like to know a little more about you."

"There is more than a little to know, I think. I am huge!"

Lots of fun back-and-forth to be had here. Annoyingly it's one of those conversations where I can't ask all the questions at once, so I had to reload a number of times to get everything. I'm not going to write all of it out, but some highlights:

He told Hector about Rashemen, described the "telthors, guardian spirits of every root, rock, and tree. Here in the Sleeping Lands, they are silent, but in the far north, they know how to speak still."

Apparently he went back to Rashemen for a while after BG2 (yay, my fic was unintentionally correct XD ); the "Iron Lord" there told him that his dajemma was done and he should work for the lord, but Minsc disagreed because Dynaheir was dead and he felt his dajemma could never be over. The Iron Lord felt disrespected, challenged him to a fight, and lost (obviously), at which point the Council of Witches told him he should probably get out of Dodge.

He did mention Aerie too! Hector commented that he seemed to toss the Wychlaran title around pretty freely between Dynaheir and Jaheira, and he answered: "You suggest that Minsc uses the term lightly? Simply leaps from Dynaheir to Jaheira, with no caring for the custom itself? An unworthy thought - and WRONG! In between there was also Aerie, my second witch. She needed a protector, and Boo suggested that it might as well be Minsc. And when she went her own way, Minsc and Boo set to thinking - there is power in the wychlaran bond. Far too much to be wasted on weeping. To use that power to serve the living does not sully the dead - it honors them." The way this is phrased seems like it could be read to imply that Aerie is also dead, but she is definitely not. However, it does concur with the assumption I made in the previous post, that Aerie basically was doing her own thing with Caden and no longer needed a protector and set Minsc free, more or less.

Hector pointed out, very carefully, that when Minsc described why Jaheira should be his new witch, he seemed to be just describing... friendship. Minsc thought over that for a minute... "Hm. So. Duty, camaraderie, help in troubled times - what I call the bond of a wychlaran, you simply call... friendship? I think I understand your meaning. Then Jaheira is my wychlaran. And so are you! You are my wychlaran! And Wyll is my wychlaran. And Astarion is my wychlaran! And Gale is my wychlaran! And Shadowheart is my wychlaran! And Halsin is my wychlaran! And Karlach is my wychlaran-- or, no, Karlach is a berserker, so... perhaps Minsc is *her* wychlaran? My thanks to you, wychlaran. You have given me much to think on - and should some enemy blow knock it loose again, Boo shall remind me." LOL. Minsc is not a subtle man but I honestly think he's fucking with Hector just a smidge here. (Or at least, to be honest, I hope he is; Minsc knows what a friend is, and his relationships with Dynaheir and Aerie are significant to him on a different level. The BG3 writers are doing fantastic with Minsc for the most part but this line, while funny, doesn't really play well for me exactly.) That said, I think Hector has a point that Minsc latching onto Jaheira specifically this way is him taking her friendship and trying to make it into this other important thing that he is missing, because he doesn't know how to handle being without a witch entirely. (Probably also a BIT of coping mechanism for having been teleported forward in time a hundred years, even though he doesn't actively claim he's bothered by it.)

Hector asked if Minsc knew anything about what deal Roah was striking with the false Jaheira and the Stone Loard; Minsc had no clue, unsurprisingly. Boo then piped up with quite a lot of agitated squeaking, which Minsc interpreted to mean that Boo thought he should open his mind up via the tadpole so that Hector could view his memories and perhaps understand elements that Minsc didn't. Minsc was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, though, and Hector isn't keen to use the worm more than strictly necessary, so he just told Minsc they'd find another way.

Hector asked about Boo and Minsc told Boo to explain himself. Boo squeaked. "Clear enough?" asked Minsc. XD Hector asked a little further and Minsc told roughly the story I was already aware of; he received a head wound from bandits and Boo showed up as he recovered. It is neither clear nor, I think, meant to be whether or not Minsc actually understands him. (Though I'm curious to see whether we are able to Speak With Animals with Boo on my druid playthrough. XD )

He talked a little about his experience getting turned into a statue. (Hector mentioned that Jaheira had told him about it; not sure if I missed a dialogue somewhere or that was supposed to have happened off-screen). He doesn't seem to know much about why it happened; just that he was ambushed while doing "cleanup" work in the city's underbelly and then woke up in the Wide a hundred years later when someone cleared the petrification.

And finally, some longer bits actually worth writing out -

Caden references! He cheerfully told Hector about fighting alongside "the Bhaalspawn" ("Gorion's Ward," etc... he has a NAME, Minsc! XD ) and fighting off evil. Hector, whose only exposure to a Bhaalist is Orin, was kind of skeptical: "How did you come to trust the spawn of such an evil god?" Kind of fun to see how the dialogue dances around making any specific assertions about the past game player character. In this case, Minsc goes off on a tangent: "A curious question. Are a child and his father always alike? Take Minsc! He does not have a clear memory of the face of his father, but he does remember tugging on the thick, red whiskers that sprang from his chin. A beard for the ages! Boo could have nestled there happily through even the harshest of Rashemen winters. Now - look closely at Minsc, and what do you see?" Hector, patiently, grinning in spite of himself: "You don't have a beard." "Correct! There are more whiskers on Boo's tiny face than on the mighty chin of Minsc! If Minsc did not inherit the flaming red hair of his mother, or the bushy red beard of his father, why would the spawn of Bhaal inherit his wickedness." Hector looks kind of impressed. "That's... surprisingly insightful." Minsc grins brightly. "I have many more thoughts about beards to share! I did not know you cared to hear them!"

-----

"I'd like to know your thoughts on our companions."

"You hear that, Boo? Your keen skills of observation have not gone unnoticed! Our friend wishes to consult your wisdom."

Hector blinks a few times rapidly but rolls with it. (Yet again he is quite like Caden in some ways. XD ) "Yes, Boo, I'd love to hear your opinions."

"So small is Boo that he is often mistaken for a pinecone, and many secrets are spoken in h is hearing! He will tell what he knows - but Minsc of course will translate."

Astarion first: "Oh, the pale scoundrel has his charms, it cannot be denied. But my friend, it gives me no pleasure to tell you - Astarion is not what he claims to be. Just last night, Minsc was dressing one of his many heroic wounds in camp when Astarion stumbled upon the scene. I tell you, he grew pale as death itself. He licked his lips and trembled so violently that Minsc thought he might faint on the spot! The truth is painful but undeniable. Astarion... is a coward. How can he fight the battles to come when he grows soft at the first sight of blood?"

[LOUD SQUEAKING FROM BOO] "...Just one moment." [MORE SQUEAKING] "You are sure? And you could not have told me this before?" [SQUEAKING] "...Minsc may be mistaken. Boo presents compelling evidence that Astarion may in fact be a vampire."

Hector finds himself once again fighting the urge to grin; this seems to be his default state when dealing with Minsc. "I know. But don't worry, he largely gets by on rats."

"Minsc has met many vampires and never one whose smile did not hide treacherous teeth. But... as you say. It is good that we do not have any friends who could ever be mistaken for a rat, eh Boo? If the sun can bear to look upon Astarion's monstrous face, then so can Minsc and Boo! For now, at least."

(Wonder if he is thinking about Hexxat and their battle with her in the crypts of Athkatla, so many years ago...)

Wyll next: "Ah, the great Blade of Frontiers! A fine name. Minsc has no idea what it means, but it suits young Wyll's air of mystery well. It is good to know the city did not go unprotected while I wore pigeon droppings on the Wide. Jaheira did her part, of course, but she prefers to scowl from the shadows. The city needs a name. A face! Preferably a furry companion, too!" [LOUD SQUEAK FROM BOO]

"He has a companion, all right," Hector says dryly. "Her name is Mizora."

"Mizora. This is... some manner of exotic bird?"

"Close. A cambion, bound to him by an infernal pact."

"What? Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers of whom I heard, is no man to deal with devils!" [SQUEAKING] "Ahhh, Boo speaks sense as ever. There is goodness in Wyll; we have seen it! If there be a devil on his shoulder, then Minsc and Boo will sit astride the other! He will not be long in coming back to himself, I think."

Gale: "I do not wish to speak of the wizard." [SQUEAK] "I could not have said it better myself."

"Gale's great - what's your problem with him?"

"He came to me one night with a little book of mischief, full of words and their meanings. 'Posterior,' he says. 'Can you say posterior?' I refused! Minsc does not need to know the language of wizards!"

Hector, swallowing yet another smile: "Posterior isn't wizard-talk. It's another word for butt."

"It is an inferior word! Far too long to use in a battle cry, which is where a butt belongs! Gale would do better to educate himself in the ways of sword and steel than to throw these pointy words at Minsc. Ah - yes, Gale also owns a cat! A cat with wings! That is most unnerving for poor Boo!"

"You should give him a break - he's only trying to help."

"Never! If he is not careful, Boo will shred his books and use them as bedding!"

And finally, Halsin: "Who is Halsin?"

"The elven druid."

"Oh, the tiny puny elf with leaves in his hair and dirt under his fingernails. His name is Halitosin? How very unfortunate."

"Halsin," says Hector patiently.

"That is what I said."

"You're both giant hulking do-gooders; I thought you'd get along."

"Pah. Minsc saw the druid chasing himself in circles and sniffing his own butt last night! He has spent too long as a wolf and not enough as a man." [LOUD SQUEAKING FROM BOO] "NO, BOO! THE DRUID DID NOT BEAT MINSC AT THE ARM-WRESTLING! IT WAS NOT A FAIR MATCH, AND HE TURNED INTO AN OWLBEAR HALFWAY THROUGH, AND THERE WAS GREASE ON THE TREE STUMP!"

XD

-----

"When our minds mingled, I saw some... strange things."

"Oh? The mind of Minsc is a simple place. Of what strangeness do you speak?"

Narrator: The memories resurface, a lifetime of battles blurring into one. The single constant is Minsc, launching into the fray no matter the foe - be they god, monster, or man. It seems just the barest glimpse of what the man before you has ssen and done, but enough to know that he has no right to still be alive."

"Ah! Wait! That look in your eyes - I know exactly what visions of Minsc you have seen, to cause you such wonder..."

"My pants! Thrice-laced in the Rashemaar style, so that a berserker might split skulls without fear of splitting britches too. They *are* fiendishly complex, but fear not for Minsc! With training, he has learned to master the many little knots."

"Never mind your pants," Hector says firmly. "You've walked between planes, fought gods!"

"Well, as have you, no? Do not forget that when you gaze into Minsc, Minsc also gazes into you! We both fight evil, wherever it is found. The who and where are less important than the hamsters you meet along the way. On this matter of sharing memories - I see no reason for us to worry at one another's worms. If there is more we wish to know, we can simply... ask, no?"

Hector is very okay with this; he does not want to use the tadpole at all if he can help it. "Of course. A warrior speaks their mind, instead of reading others."

"Exactly so! If I must peer into the mind of my enemy, I use an axe. For friends, there is ale. No, my friend. If you fear you have a question that Minsc cannot answer, then you can simply ask Boo!"

I repeat: I love him, your honor.

[getsusekaii]

❛ why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again? ❜ - from tsubaki to yuji :)))

a strategy for defeating sukuna has been talked over extensively by the strike team. many different things were to be occurring at once; such as when gojo is out fighting sukuna, yuta and takaba will be going after kenjaku. however in the worst case scenario, everyone else will have to coordinate different assaults in order to wear the king of curses down. yuji knows it will be his hardest battle yet, and he cannot afford to lose, nor does he want to see the loss of the lives of his other friends and innocent people. he hadn't wanted tsubaki to participate in the fight; yuji wishes that she didn't have to, however they needed as many abled body participants in this fight that could join. it would take many of them to come together to finish gojo-sensei, somehow, could not defeat sukuna.

he hadn't even noticed he'd been talking in a negative mindset until tsubaki asked him this. his eyes go wide, then it's as if the realization dawns on him. it's because he knows sukuna's terrifying power first hand, and yet he hadn't even experienced it all. this would be his first real fight against the curse that had been nothing but a parasite in his body for almost half a year. he's barely had time to recover from almost two months ago; shibuya's tragedy still weighs heavy on him.

“ sorry, i didn't...,” yuji begins, frustrated with himself, the stress and doubts that clog his mind. “am i a coward for saying i'm scared of that possibility? i have so many things i need to do in my fight against sukuna. i need to save megumi too; i'm the only one who can. but what if i fail again? what if i'm too late to save him and you all — what if you're all killed because i failed again? what if i actually lose you this time?” all these questions spiraled out of control in his head, even as he kept a level headed front while he trained, talked to kusakabe and choso, reflected ideas with yuta, and ceaselessly studied the ratty book he received from choso given by tsukumo. this is the first time he expressed them; realizing just how terrified he is for the upcoming fight.

yuji's head hangs, resting on tsubaki's shoulder, holding her in a tight embrace. committing everything about her to memory in case these were the actual last days he would ever get to hold her like this. he doesn't realize his body trembles in fear at the very thought — the possibility that he would never get to hold tsubaki like this a very real and palpable fear of his. no doubt, sukuna very well could do anything to tsubaki to drive him to near madness if he can't hold her, or see her anymore. he unconsciously squeezes her a little tighter.

“i'm sorry. i'm just terrified of losing you but you're here right now. i shouldn't talk like you're already gone, or that i don't believe in you or your strength. i really don't want to lose you too, tsubaki.”

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."

[benignbucky]

Whiplash Pt. 2

Based on THIS REQUEST

PART ONE

AN: (MINORS DNI) This is probably gonna be the final part, I'm not super feeling this series anymore in all honesty so I'm gonna leave it as a mini series so we can get that resolution. I may come back to it later but for now I am happy with this ending. This could honestly be a standalone but the first part is linked above. Thank you for being so patient with me while I got this out, last weekend was stressful but this weekend is so much better. You may need a fan for the last half of this. ♡

PAIRING: stucky x reader, john walker x reader briefly

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: John Walker is the ex because absolutely no one likes him and we all know this man radiates tiny pp energy and would be the worst in bed, fighting, minor angst, mostly fluff and smut, unprotected sex (wrap your wang before you bang), threesome, overstimulation, squirting, HELLA praise kink, pet names (baby, peach, good girl), brief mentions of dub-con/non-con with ex, unbeta'ed (all mistakes are my own)

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

The memories of that night were burnt in the back of your eyes. Seeing your ex, John, for the first time in 6 months and he still had so much power over you.

The second you opened the door, tears sprung to your eyes as a barely audible 'w-what are you doing here?' escaped your mouth before he was walking in, clearly not noticing Bucky and Steve walking over with fury in their eyes.

"You need to leave before this gets messy." Steve and Bucky were easily twice his size, not so much in height but in pure muscle.

"Oh, so you're moved out and fucking both of your roommates. A whore like you would do that, huh?" John

You backed behind Bucky as Steve took the lead. "Listen, I don't care who you think you are but you don't just get to come back around after how you treated her. Let alone call her something she most certainly is not seeing as you're the one that cheated on her with how many women?"

"You may look all big but I doubt you even know how to fight. Useless muscle if you ask me." Little did he know that both incredibly skilled in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat. And that's all it took for Bucky to leap forward and land a bone breaking punch to John's jaw, almost knocking him out cold. This had him backing out the door, learning his place.

"And don't even think about coming back here because next time you'll have to be dragged out," The tone of Bucky's voice was firm and aggressive but only until John walked out of the building before he joined Steve in comforting you.

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

It had been three hours since John tried to pry himself into your life again. You were still trembling even though you were in the arms of the two people you trusted most. The idea that John could just show up again out of nowhere terrified you more than anything. You were well protected by Steve and Bucky but just having John in the same room, no, same building as you brought on heart shattering fear and anxiety.

You had all migrated to your room, the three of you barely fitting on your queen size mattress. It really showed off how much bigger they were compared to other guys, especially compared to you. Both of them were easily at least a foot taller than you. Their biceps easily closer to the size of one of your thighs than your arms.

Around you, they were gentle giants. That was until they needed to protect you. And they would, with their whole being. They just wanted to show you how much they valued you, how much you lit up their lives. They wanted you to know that it wasn't one sided. The two of them were pampering you in kisses and praise, gentle caresses, doing everything they could to make you feel safe and loved.

Eventually your breathing and heart rate had calmed, turning on your back so you could look at the two men. Their overwhelming appreciation towards you made you want to show your appreciation for them but you were mustering up the courage. You hadn't been intimate with anyone, let alone with yourself since before you moved in. Any experience with John had been too rough, basically forced from you but you didn't know any better.

This one moment with Bucky and Steve, everything felt different. They asked if they could play with your hair, caress your face in their hands, or even to soothingly rub your back. Every touch required you to tell them yes. If it made you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, they would stop and move back to something else you had already agreed to, which only made your core dampen more than it already was.

Fighting the nerves, you kissed them both with nothing but love and passion, hinting for something more. It took them a minute to take the hint but when they did, their actions only got softer.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Steve whispered. His and Bucky's eyes had darkened, pupils blown out. This only made you want them more.

You nodded at them both even though you knew they wanted a verbal answer. You gulp before mustering up a soft, "Yes, I want this. Want you. Both of you."

Slowly, you sat up, starting to tug at the hem of your oversized shirt before you felt one metal and one flesh hand move your hands away, removing your shirt for you.

"This is about you, peach. Don't worry about us. We want you to feel good." Bucky whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine but in the best way possible.

Steve was behind you, rubbing circles into your back as Bucky trailed kissed down your jaw and neck. You leaned back against Steve's chest as Bucky's kisses went lower to your chest. "Can we take this off?" Looping his flesh fingers under the strap of your bra.

"Please…" You breathed out your answer, feeling Steve's hand loop under you to unclasp the article of clothing. You gasped at the cold sensation of Bucky's metal hand brushing over your hot skin and he chuckled softly. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that? Isn't she, Steve?" You leaned back once more only to gasp again at the light flick that Bucky gave to your nipple. "Absolutely gorgeous." Steve hummed his answer, you could feel his length growing underneath you.

The moment you felt Bucky's mouth over your chest left your mouth agape, your back arching at his touch. His mouth didn't linger long as it started moving lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, kissing over your biker shorts but not over where you wanted him the most.

Out of instinct, you reach down to pull off your remaining clothing but Bucky just shakes his head and replaces your hands with his. This time it's him gasping at how absolutely dripping you are. "Oh you poor baby, probably haven't had someone focused on your pleasure in so long."

Steve's hands moved up to tease your chest, massaging and caressing everything he could reach before pulling his shirt off with you still on top of him. Bucky did the same before placing your thighs over his shoulders, looking for any sign of you being uncomfortable but only saw your eyes shut in pleasure.

Dipping his head down, he licked a broad stripe up your dripping cunt, not even giving you time to be shocked as he got to work. Your sounds were only making him work harder as you took his hands in yours at your side.

John only went down on you once and that was after begging him because it was 'only fair' seeing as you had always done it for him. Steve and Bucky didn't even ask, didn't want you to because unlike John, they cared more about your pleasure than their own.

"Such a good girl," Steve mumbled in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. This only fueled your needs.

"More, Bucky. Please…" You had let go of one of his metal hand only to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him even further into your core. He was groaning against you at your neediness, which sent vibrations throughout your entire body.

You were about to beg again but before the words could even come out, you felt two cold fingers at your entrance before they slowly slid in and bumping into your g-spot, which wasn't something you had ever experienced before.

"B-Bucky… oh my god! What was that?" You were a blubbering mess at this new found sensation.

Looking up at you and only moving his mouth away to say, "You can't tell me no one has ever?-" His fingers were curling up at an agonizing pace, your hips bucking on his hand was the only response he needed before he started moving at a faster pace. You were almost at your peak, legs trembling, as he put his mouth back on you and sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You had never felt this much pleasure before in your life. Only a few more strokes of his hand left and you felt like you had exploded, seeing stars. The sounds you were making and your grip on Bucky's hair had him groaning against you, only heightening your peak and making it more intense. Bucky wasn't done yet though, he was going to drag out your high until you couldn't take anymore, Steve nearly forgotten behind you.

Any words you tried to make were incoherent as Bucky finally slowed down and kissed back up your body. "Such a good girl for us, aren't you, baby?" Chuckling at how you could only nod as a response. The two men would have been happy with at that but you were already sitting up and turning around to give Steve attention, which took them both by surprise.

You were a shy person in general let alone during a situation like this but your orgasm only gave you more confidence. Bucky laid down as you crawled up and straddled Steve. As much as he would love to watch you ride him, you were spent. You looked it to. With a swift motion, you were back on your back, legs spread again as Steve pulled down his pants and his briefs, Bucky following behind shortly.

You knew both of them were packing at the one too many times you had walked in on one of them getting out of the shower so you weren't that surprised to see how big they were in the moment. "I would love to taste you but I can't wait any longer, needa be inside you. Is that alright?" Steve accepted your whimper of a yes and draped his body over yours, giving you a tender kiss before reaching down and running a finger in between your folds and lining himself up to your entrance.

He didn't even need to look up at you for approval, you were already snaking your legs around his hips. "Eager girl, aren't you?" Steve smirked before pressing into you slowly, earning a soft moan from you before rocking his hips slowly as you got used to his size before working up to a faster pace. Both of you moaning and groaning as you raked your nails down his back.

"Fuck, so tight. Don't know how long 'm gonna last." You were already squeezing around, trying to milk him for everything he had.

"F-faster… harder…" You begged and he happily obliged. You didn't care if he didn't last much longer, you knew Bucky wanted a turn and you wanted to give them both a chance at you. "Oh my god, Steve. I'm gonna cum… please." Your begging only made Steve's release come sooner, only letting go when you had reached your peak as well, pulling at his hair as he groaned into your neck before his thrusts slowed to a halt.

You were still catching your breath before the two men swapped places. "Think you can handle one more, peach?" Bucky hovered over, looking for any sign of you wanting to stop. "I sure hope so." You chuckled out of breath still before gasping as Bucky flipped you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, his hands resting at your hips.

"That's a good girl," lining himself up, Bucky groaned at the wetness that was Steve's release mixed with yours as he pushed in. Steve was longer but Bucky was noticeably thicker as he pushed into you. "You weren't kidding, Steve. So. Fucking. Tight." Bucky growled out. Steve reached over to moved your hair out of your face before Bucky started thrusting into you.

"If it's too much, just say and we'll stop and take care of you." Steve reassured you before nodding to Bucky, encouraging him to pick up the pace.

And he did, his thrusts were relentless but were all for your pleasure. Neither of you would last very long but he wanted this one to be the best orgasm of the night. "Steve," Bucky managed, nodding his head to Steve, motioning for him to touch you. The whine you let out when Steve scooted down to rub feverish circles around your clit which was only bringing your third incredibly intense orgasm of the night only moments away.

"Oh god… of fuck fuck FUCK…" amongst another string of curses cam out of both you and Bucky's mouth as you came, covering Bucky's thighs, Steve's hand, and your comforter. It only took that sight and a couple more thrusts as Bucky was filling you to the brim. "Fuck…." He groaned, "Can't say I've ever had that happen before."

You drop to lay flat on your stomach on the bed, clearly oblivious to you squirting all over the two men and your blanket, only humming in response. "Did you know that you could do that, baby? Did you know you could squirt?" Your eyes widened at Steve as he asked, he took that answer as an obvious 'no' and chuckled softly.

You wished you could move but you were so fucked out that your limbs were limp. Steve got up and grabbed a new t-shirt and underwear for you to put on as Bucky eased out of you, causing another whine from you at the sensation. Steve left the room temporarily just to get a warm washcloth and a different blanket for the three of you as the other one was deemed in need of a wash.

The two cleaned and dressed you before laying out the new blanket over you. Bucky laid down first, pulling you to lay on his chest before Steve crawled behind you, spooning you. You were barely conscious but you heard the small I love you's and praises from them about how good you did. You breathed out a small 'love you too' before falling asleep.

[yououui]

" i'm trying so hard, but... i can't stop myself from falling in love with you. " - but it's kurogane saying it! because you know he tried to stop himself before deciding this was just his lot in life and it was time to wife that boy

I accidentally wrote a 5 page fic of Kurogane just being a lovesick idiot enjoy

They sit in silence after Tomoyo leaves them. Kurogane wants to yell at her a bit because what the hell is she playing at dressing the mage like that?! but it turns out that cutting off an arm is exhausting and he doesn’t have the energy to fight her. He does give her a glare as she exits the room and she winks back at him.

Tea is brought for them eventually and Fai carefully pours them each a warm glass. “How are you feeling?” Fai asks while handing Kurogane his cup, the first words spoken since he socked Kurogane upside the head.

Kurogane shrugs, a natural instinct that proves to be a mistake as pain shoots across his left side. Fai notices his wince and moves closer in concern, like he thinks Kurogane will need to be caught before fainting, but Kurogane waves him off. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“And in pain,” Fai says. He almost sounds angry, but the sad look on his face betrays his tone.

“It’s not that bad,” Kurogane tells him instead. “As long as I don’t move too much.”

Fai regards the empty sleeve hanging at Kurogane’s side and the white bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. “You’re such… an idiot,” He says eventually. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Thought I made it clear a while ago,” Kurogane responds, as easily as ever. “I’ll do anything to protect the people I love.”

Fai laughs, though it sounds more like a sob, and shakes his head. “If you love me then you’re even more of an idiot.”

“Trust me, I know,” Kurogane says. When Fai lifts his eye, Kurogane offers him a small smile just so the idiot doesn’t get the idea in his head that Kurogane is serious. Somehow, even for as upset as he is, it gets Fai to smile weakly as well. That gives Kurogane the encouragement he needs to continue. “Y’know mage, I’m trying so hard—I’ve been trying for a while, but…”

But…?

When did it start exactly? When did the annoyance towards the insufferable man sitting beside him turn into curiosity? When did he begin finding himself wanting to know more about him—when did he begin to care?

He can’t be certain but Outo springs to mind first. The moment Fai’s casual admittance that he wanted to die spiked anger in Kurogane. Anger not towards Fai, as Fai believed, but towards the mere idea of him going through with it. And the moment he saw the mage’s ribbon on the ground, no body to be seen as demons surrounded him and that anger returned like a tsunami wave engulfing him until he could barely see or breathe.

And the relief when he saw the idiot was actually alive. And the frustration at himself for feeling so relieved for someone that didn’t care about Kurogane or himself. Kurogane knew that it was pointless to let himself be interested in the mage; Fai was a liar that carefully kept them all at arms length and Kurogane had no idea who he would see when the mask finally fell.

But he didn’t want Fai to die. As grating as Fai could be, Kurogane wanted him to stick around. He didn’t care about Fai’s past, but he wanted to understand him more. He wanted to know what he liked—liquor, music, cooking, annoying Kurogane, cats, dogs?—and what he disliked—hangovers, waking up early, pickles, personal questions, green tea. He wanted to understand what had Fai so guarded, what had him so afraid, and he wanted Fai to understand that he could let the walls down every now and then, that Kurogane would protect him from whatever he was running from.

And then Yama, Piffle, Lecourt, seeing those walls break down brick by careful brick. Feeling the strength of Fai’s magic for the first time as it engulfed them, the sheer power of it suffocating and brilliant. And Kurogane felt a brief spark of hope that maybe, maybe, Fai was beginning to learn that caring wasn’t such a bad thing.

And then the fear that came with the weight of Fai’s limp body in his arms, the way his blood fell like morbid tears and stained usually flawless skin. Kurogane had felt that once before as a child, the night his life was burned to ruins but he still refused to let his mother go. Kurogane also refused to let Fai go; he needed to feel the mage’s breath and heartbeat, no matter how weak. He needed to know with certainty that Fai was still alive.

It may have began earlier, but it was then that he realized that his minor curiosity had grown into something he couldn’t control or bury or pretend not to notice. In that moment, his worldview narrowed down until he could only see Fai, the noises around them dulled except for Fai’s wavering breath and weak voice, and suddenly anything else he’d ever wanted didn’t seem to matter. He made the wish and paid the price and bound himself to Fai, a man who would keep running seemingly forever.

Well then, to hell with Nihon—he could find a new home or wander around new worlds with Fai until the day he died. He could give up his own life, tear out his own heart, anything it would take to keep that idiot alive for one more day.

It was only after it was over and the price paid that Kurogane reminisced about his parents and realized that there was a word for what he was feeling.

“But I can’t stop myself from falling in love with you.”

Fai says nothing but the breath he takes is sharp enough to cut the stillness around them. Because sure, Kurogane loved him, he cared, they were friends after all. But to fall in love…

It was something he knew he shouldn’t feel as soon as he realized it. He knew he should avoid it. If he tried to pursue someone who did not want to be chased, it would only end in disaster.

And gods did he try to stop it before it reached that point. Kurogane had heard of heartbreak of course, through others lamenting the loss of their beloved or reading about it in books, but he’d never experienced it himself. He didn’t understand how such a feeling could overwhelm someone completely and scoffed at characters in stories that threw themselves from high windows or drank poison rather than live a day without their love.

But then he felt it, that hot knife of rejection stabbing him straight through the chest. Each cold word and hostile glare twisted the blade until he was certain his heart had been crushed to a gruesome, mangled mess, and yet there were still tender bits of it left for Fai to sink his claws into. And then Kurogane understood the windows and the poison and honestly, he’d rather cut off his other arm than ever experience that again.

But at least Fai was alive. At least he was there, and Kurogane would take the bitter pain and more for Fai. Only for Fai.

Kurogane chuckles to himself now, the entire thing so miserable it’s almost humorous. If the person he was before Tomoyo cast him away could see him now, he’d probably call himself a moron, just like those characters in the stories. Kurogane never knew one person could change him so much. “Even when you hated me, I couldn’t help it.”

Fai’s head falls forward and he digs the heel of his palm into his eye as if it could shove his tears back inside. His other hand trembles and fists his kimono so tightly, Kurogane is worried he’ll tear right through the silk.

“I never—hated you,” Fai gasps, shoulders trembling. Kurogane feels bad for making Fai cry—Fai’s cried a lot recently. It comforts Kurogane to hear the truth, though, and he thinks the mage needs it. He has about five lifetimes of tears built up. “I couldn’t. So I tried to make you hate me but—gods, even after all I did... how I treated you…! You still wouldn’t...”

Kurogane turns his body a bit so that he can reach Fai with his right hand. He ruffles Fai’s hair and the indignant squeak Fai lets out as his head is pushed down feels entirely worth it. “Guess we’re both idiots then,” Kurogane tells him quietly.

Fai peers up at him through his hair that Kurogane has made a mess of. His face is shining with tears, his cheeks splotched red and his eye swollen and Kurogane marvels that such a beautiful person could ever exist in the mortal world.

Fai weakly—playfully—swats Kurogane’s hand away and wipes his sleeve against his cheeks. Kurogane snorts, humored that the outfit Tomoyo carefully picked for Fai to wear for a very specific reason has been reduced down to a rag to dry his face. “I think Kuro-sama must be on all kinds of strange medicine,” Fai says with a fragile but honest smile. “He’s in such a good mood and saying all kinds of weird things.”

“Mm. Don’t expect to hear this shit when I wake up tomorrow,” Kurogane tells him with a nod. He’s still smiling though, smiling like a lovesick idiot with hearts in his eyes but damn it he’s been through too much and has almost lost Fai too many times to care about it now. Hearing the slightly teasing tone in the mage’s voice and seeing him here, alive and at Kurogane’s side, soothes his torn up heart and begins stitching the pieces back together.

Fai’s smile grows as well, the fragile edges chipping away and leaving behind a look of pure happiness Kurogane has never seen on him before. Fai reaches over, letting go of his own kimono to grab the empty sleeve of Kurogane’s. “I’m sorry,” He says. “And thank you. But never do something like this again.”

“Don’t almost get yourself killed again and I won’t have to,” Kurogane tells him, grinning.

Fai nods, still smiling. “Fine. You’ll live a long, long life with me by your side, Kuro-sama. I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

It’s probably the strangest proposal in the history of any world, but it’s one Kurogane is happy to accept.

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things: Wingmen (Aaron Hotchner x Female BAU! Reader)

this is based on season 10 episode 10 “amelia porter”

Warnings: None. Pure Fluff.

A/N: I am so beyond obsessed with the mutual pining. Initially, this was going to be one part, but I have to slow burn the heck out of this, so it'll be a few parts. Enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

august 2014

Bookend: "You meet thousands of people and none of them really touch you. And then you meet one person and your life is changed forever." – Love & Other Drugs

I walk into the jazz club, searching for Rossi. For the past year and a half, we have frequented this classy establishment, bonding over our shared passion for jazz and fine liquor. We come here every Friday unless the job keeps us away. It's a form of escapism that I have grown to cherish deeply. With a job like ours, finding something to look forward to each week, some semblance of a routine is crucial.

I stroll over to “our” booth, but instead of seeing David’s familiar face, it's that of the Unit Cheif. I throw my head back and laugh, “Of all the people I could have expected to see here...you were not one of them.”

Don't get me wrong; I'm not upset to find him here. I could never get enough of him. I see him nearly every day of the week, I have weekly movie nights with Jack, and Aaron and I have been to hell and back with each other over the years.

He shakes his head and smirks, “What can I say? I'm full of surprises.”

“So tell me Aaron Hotchner, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

“David Rossi, ” he emphasizes.

“So you’ve been recruited as one of his wingmen too huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“Well I'm glad you're here.” I slide into the booth next to him.

He glides his cup in circles along the tablecloth, “Me too.”

“May I pry?” I inquire.

He nods, “You may.”

“Why exactly are you here? Believe me, I'm thrilled you're joining us, but David and I have been coming here for over a year. Why'd he invite you now?”

His shoulders tense up, and then he inhales deeply, the tension releasing when he exhales.

“If I'm being completely honest, I think it has something to do with the fact that Beth and I are no longer together.”

“Oh my God, Hotch. I'm so sorry, I didn't know.”

Aaron looks up at me; the professional man, the profiler I'm so familiar with, is gone. Instead, he looks at me with the eyes of a vulnerable man, someone who loves so passionately and craves that same love in return. This isn't the first time he's looked at me with those eyes, and I pray that it is not the last time. If it were anyone else, the prolonged eye contact would deter me; my glance would dart in the other direction. But, for years, I have savored these intimate moments with him. I'm not exactly sure when this connection began or when it deepened to the awareness we now have of one another.

Most likely, it began shortly after Haley’s death, when I started to spend more time with Jack or those late nights working in the office with him. Maybe it was that time I brought him his favorite coffee and bagel to his house because I knew he wouldn’t feed himself otherwise.

(Aaron’s P.O.V.)

I gaze at her with utmost fascination. She is a mystery I have never been able to solve, a profile I cannot complete. She is whole, a pillar of strength for our team, her family, me, and Jack. Yet, there is a fear within her that mimics a young child scared of the monsters that are both imagined and real. She’s seen and experienced things that no one her age should have to witness. I can see through the worn expression on her face. She’s holding herself together for the sake of everyone around her, but inside she’s slowly falling apart. All I want is to help mend those crumbling pieces and hold her together. She doesn’t realize that she has been doing that very thing for me for the past four years.

In my life, I have had the opportunity to love deeply and freely. But two of those loves stand in realms of their own. The first time I fell in love, it was with an opposite. A precious, symbolic tale of love and loss.

With Beth, I did love her. She gave me the strength to feel something again after Haley died. I found the ability to move forward with hope and recognition that I deserve happiness once again.

The second great love came in the form of a mirror. We share an empathy, an understanding of the fundementals of life and love that shapes our individual values. I was far from perfect when we met; I was detached, damaged, and hopeless. I felt like I was barely a man. Truth be told, I won’t be perfect after the fact either. But, she gives me a sense of realness that I never perceived as possible. And since the day we met before I even accepted the actuality of my affections for her, I strove to better myself. Every day since, and for the rest of my life, I want to work every day to be the man she deserves and needs.

Awakening from my trance, I speak up, “I am grateful every day for the relationship I had with Beth. I truly did love her. I love her still for the person she helped me become. I realized, through her, that I can choose to move forward with my life.”

“You deserve to be happy, Aaron,” she interjects.

“Some time ago, Rossi came into my office encouraging me to start dating again. He reminded me that Haley wouldn’t want me to avoid moving on. Of course, my immediate instinct was to deny that I was guilty of just that. But he was right. He told me that I am no good to anyone when I’m miserable.”

She throws her head back and laughs, “Miserable? No, I wouldn’t call you that. Slightly uptight? Absolutely.”

I gasp, exaggerating a look of offense, “I’m hurt.”

She touches my arm, and I can feel my heart stop for a beat. Something about her touch elevated my heart and soul to another plain. It’s as if her small hand on my forearm revealed the certainty I had been searching for.

I chuckle, “Don’t worry. David and I came to the same conclusion.”

“Phew,” she breathes out a sigh of relief, “Good because I didn’t know how I was going to dig myself out of that hole....but please, continue what you were saying.”

I take a deep breath, “When you and I met I had already lost my entire world. Haley had just recently taken Jack, we were fighting constantly, and then...” I feel my eyes beginning to sting, and I realize that she hasn’t taken her grip off my arm once she squeezes it reassuringly.

“When Haley died, it felt like I was staring into an abyss. After the funeral, you found me alone, in some room that I had escaped to for some solace. But I didn’t feel any relief. And then, you came in. You sat across from me, and we just sat in silence. Somehow though, more was said in that silence than I had ever dared to utter out loud to someone. You didn’t know it then, but you saved me that day. You saved Jack too.”

I hear her short intake of breath and look over to see her lip beginning to tremble.

“Aaron...”

As much as I want to hear her melodic voice speak to me now, when I am most unarmed, a feeling that is entirely foreign to me, I have never felt so driven to yell from the top of my lungs a profession of love for this woman.

I begin to speak again, and I am immediately interrupted by Rossi, accompanied by the jazz singer hooked on his arm.

“La mia bella ragazza! Finalmente sei arrivato,” he says, kissing the top of her head. She blushes slightly, her eyes flickering to me briefly.

“You are a sight for sore eyes my dear. Is she not Aaron?”

I take a sip of my drink, glancing at y/n, her beautiful y/e/c sparkling back at me. How can anyone put into words just how beautiful she is?

I nod, “She is indeed.”

I’m suddenly made aware of the absence of her touch on my arm. How can someone’s touch both simultaneously have such a stronghold on you and also set you free? Regardless of the reason, I long to savor that feeling once again.

“Well,” she inches out of the booth, “I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you boys anything?”

We shake our heads in unison. Rossi suggests that his date join her.

He places his hand on my shoulder, “So? Any progress made?”

“I don’t want to overwhelm her. There’s so much I want to say. But I feel like I’ve put her through enough already. I’m an old man Dave. I’m a widower with a son. The damage I’d be asking her to cope with, the burden I’d be subjecting her to...”

David clears his throat and slips his phone out of his pocket. He swipes through some photos in his camera roll and lands on a photo of y/n and me. It’s from a cocktail party he hosted a few years ago. Jack, y/n, and I are sitting on the grass in Rossi’s backyard playing with dandelions. I can still hear their laughter filling the air: Jack’s squeals and y/n’s child-like giggles. We felt like a family. I would give anything to relive those moments of genuine bliss, to feel that sensation of being complete, heart, mind, and soul once more.

“Sometimes,” Rossi begins, “when people are destined to be together, their love grows over an undetermined span of time. It could be months, weeks, even years. You both may feel the shared pain of this rollercoaster called life and the hurt that comes from being separated from one another, but this helps you better grasp the priceless value and purity of the love you share. There is no easy road to love. Anyone who claims otherwise is doomed to be plagued by the mediocrity that is a false sense of security. The path you are on, Aaron is the one walked by the greatest lovers in history. In layman’s terms, don’t screw this up.”

[bansheeoftheforest]

Hey lol, my power just went out and I'm having a moment, do you have any headcanons abt Hyde or Jekyll and his family dealing with storms and outages? Especially if outages and storms are stressful for them? -💙

:o I hope you are okay blue!!!! Storms and outages are scary af sometimes, please stay safe!!

I just woke up after having slept like. 10 hours but I tried my best, if you want more I'd be happy to give you some more hcs, though!

Henry has always been scared of storms and lightning, they had a lot of those growing up and Henry always heard his older siblings talking about the horror stories surrounding storms; campfire ghost stories, as well as the destruction that the storms brought to their city or the people around them. Henry was a very timid and easily intimidated kid so storms came high up on his list of fears.

He only "stopped" being so scared of lightning because of the Frankenstein plays, where the reanimation of the Creature was depicted as having used pure lightning from storms. Henry began to love the concept of lightning out of the context of storms but is still incredibly scared of them both.

Hyde will always deny being scared of storms, most of the time he claims he was brought forth upon the earth of mankind by Satan himself during the century's worst storm. The moment he hears lightning he will quiver in his boots. He is better at hiding it than Henry, though, as Hyde often is good at hiding his fears.

They didn't have to worry about power outages as electricity wasn't commercially available when Henry grew up, so most of the time they just waited out the storms. Most of the waiting out involved Mama and Papa Jekyll gathering all their kids in the living room, putting on the fire in the fireplace, and telling stories to distract them. While Henry was the only one downright afraid of the storms, his siblings also got nervous and needed some distraction too, even if they quickly began to look forward to the storms so they could spend some family time together.

Henry often spent those stormy days in the lap of one of his older brothers. Being 8 years older than him, the two twins were always incredibly protective of him and especially when bby Henry was quivering and sniffling. His sisters were, too, incredibly protective of him and always wanted to help comfort him-- whenever Angus and Ian weren't available, Blair and Lilith would have him smushed between them and they would try to distract him from the thunder by tickling or play fighting with him.

Once Henry got older and began to get into Frankenstein, his family's key phrase to distract him from his panic was to say "Remember Frankenstein? It was a stormy night like this that they created the Creature!". Probably not the best phrase, as his parents did not want to encourage him... To do what Frankenstein did, but it was enough for Henry's momentary panic to turn into a short moment of fascination. On good days, Henry would start rambling about science until the storm was over, on the bad days, Henry would start imagining the Creature outside their window and get even more scared.

Whenever their parents would be gone on business trips and storms would start, Henry's siblings were always prepared to make the best of it. Angus and Ian would try to cook food (they are good cooks, they just end up playfighting a lot), Blair and Lilith would distract Henry, while Freyja, Isla, and Peigi would set up the fire in the living room and get blankets. Chicken soup in front of a roaring fire, cuddled up next to his older siblings, and wrapped in his favorite blanket really helped Henry to deal with storms, and lose his fear of them... A little. He was still scared, but he felt a lot safer with them around him.

He has experienced his fair share of storms in England but the worst ones were in university, just because the classrooms didn't isolate the sounds of thunder and the dorms were quite thin-walled. He knew he was safe but the sweeping winds and lightning did nothing to soothe his worries. Luckily, during classes, he often had Lanyon right by him, and during the evenings he often had both Lanyon and Utterson. In the beginning, neither of them knew about Henry's fear of storms but as Lanyon observed how Henry's pen jumped over the paper for every hit of thunder, the way he trembled, and the way he started to cold sweat, it did not take long for him to scoot closer by their shared desk and put his knee against Henry's in hope of calming him. Storms during the evenings in their dorms were better because neither Utterson nor Lanyon was afraid of giving the physical affection that Henry needed. Lots of cuddles and lots of hugging. Neither were really scared of storms themselves-- Lanyon found them indifferent and Utterson found them fascinating, but neither wanted to see their friend hurting like that.

The Society is large and thickly walled enough for storms to almost be unnoticeable, however, the outages really are not. While most of the Lodgers found it as a mild inconvenience (or a large inconvenience for Tweedy, Pennebrygg, and Flowers), the realization that the storms could bring out their power for days really was not a realization that Henry liked, just because it made him feel so hopeless and defenseless.

A particularly bad storm brought their electricity out for, well, days, quite a lot of time before Frankenstein even stepped a foot into the Society. The Lodgers gathered each other (and Henry) into a parlor, lit candles & the fireplace, and decided to tell ghost stories. Henry tried his best to keep calm as the storm got worse and worse and the thunder and lightning, too, got worse and worse, yet the two Lodgers next to him quickly noticed his stress and nervosity. Quietly scooting closer and trying to distract him. After all, they were much friendlier with each other back then, so it could have been any lodgers.

Whenever Henry, god forbid, is alone during storms, he does his best to replicate the coping mechanisms his family gave him as a kid. Cuddling up in thick blankets and trying to block out the noise, trying to distract himself, or going to someone he trusts in hopes of comfort. Luckily, most of the time it works, even when he isn't sure of which persons he can trust. He has a reputation after all... But the storms sure as hell scare him enough that he does not give a shit about it.

Maijabi is one of the persons that Henry trusts the most, simply because he knows he won't judge him for his fears. Most of the time during storms, Henry scurries off to him for safety. Maijabi, of course, understands his fear perfectly. He lets Henry stay with him for as long as he wants to, and he brews honey and lavender tea for him as well <3

Hyde is not often allowed out during storms-- both because Henry is way too stressed to let him out and because Hyde is way too scared to actually go outside during them. In the few instances where he has found himself in control of the body during a storm, he spends the entire evening seated on one of Rachel's counters in the kitchen while Rachel herself bakes him cookies. Rachel, of course, does not have the heart to start teasing him about being afraid of storms of all things, she is just glad he trusts her enough to... Well... Be in the kitchen with her during storms.

Both Hyde and Henry are sensitive about their fear of storms, they "know" it's irrational and "childish" of them so they are very self-conscious about showing or playing into that fear. Lanyon once made the mistake-- during one of the first storms since Henry and he met-- to joke about Henry's fear for them, which really did not help Henry's self-consciousness about it. Lanyon quickly realized his mistakes and made up for it by comforting Henry a bit extra that evening.

Henry always having people he can trust with his fears and being able to cope with them my beloved <3

[luna-redamancy]

Hi, I'm sorry but would you mind doing an emergency request for me? I have an abusive ex who used to stalk me for about two to four years. I had to move because I'm in a military family but I'm moving back to the city he lives in and I'm scared. It's probably completely irrational, it's been so long, but I need something to calm me down. Could I please get a fic with Thranduil comforting and protecting a male reader?

Oh lovey, please don’t apologize! I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, I hope you know that you never deserved anything that happened to you. If you ever need to talk or need another request please please don’t hesitate. 

I hope this helps even just a little:

The minute you stepped foot into Rivendell, you felt sick to your stomach. Back in the place you never wanted to be in for the rest of your life. After experiencing several instances with an ex-courtee, your family thought it best to seek refuge in the Woodland Realm near Esgaroth and Erebor. 

Looking down the familiar roads and statues you couldn’t help the urge to look over your shoulder grow back tenfold. 

“Are you alright, my dearest?” Thranduil’s deep voice brought you out of your thoughts, your eyes rapidly blinking before turning to him. “I..I..” You struggled to find the words as he approached you. You had stopped your elk a few paces behind him. 

“What is troubling you?” 

“Nothing…” You shook your head with a smile, forcing your fears away as you fought your anxiety. “Just odd being back, is all.” You reasoned, holding your hand out for him to interlace it with his own. 

“If you say so…” He mumbled, giving you a slight side eye as you two resumed your walk into the place you used to see as home. 

-

As much as you tried to fight it, you couldn’t bite down the fear that crawled up your throat and bit into you. Your heart began to pound in your chest as you locked eyes with the one person you never wanted to see again,  a wicked smile forming on their face followed with glee. You couldn’t help the way your hand began to tremble, causing you to set down your wine glass. 

Thranduil looked to you in concern, noticing the way you began to withdraw. “Excuse us for a moment,” Thranduil excused the two of you from the dining room, gently tugging you into the hallway away from prying ears. 

“What has frightened you so, my dear heart?” He questioned as you gripped onto his sleeve like a vice, burying your face in his neck. 

“Not a what… A.. A who..” You whispered out, not wanting to admit out loud what was happening. 

“Who has frightened you?” Thranduil adjusted his question, pulling you closer to him, his scent filling your senses to remind you that you aren’t alone, you have your beloved. 

“Do you remember when I first came to your realm?” Your voice was muffled by his tunic, but he heard you loud and clear. Memories of the way you looked over your shoulder, jumping when someone would knock on your chamber doors, when the maids would tidy up things unexpectedly to show that someone had been in your room. You were absolutely terrified. 

Deciding not to pry, Thranduil only nodded, “I remember very well.” Was all he said as he noticed a figure coming out of the dining hall, trying to blend in the shadows to find you. 

“And I will protect you from the vile thing that hurt you so,” He nearly growled out, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Av-'osto (Don’t be afraid).” 

Your ex-courtee was furious at seeing another elf’s hands on you, touching you so intimately. Rushing from the shadows, he reached to strike at Thranduil, only for Thranduil to turn you both away from his attack. “Go alert Lord Elrond, my dearest.” Thranduil gave you a reassuring smile as the elf charged him once more, only for Thranduil to restrain him. 

“You think you can harm someone and go away unscathed?” Thranduil was seething, the remembrance of the fear on your face fueling his grip to stay like iron shackles around him until the guards came. 

“Sevig thû úan (You smell like a monster).”

“Leithio nin! (Release me!)” Your ex screamed out, kicking in the air as two guards approached, taking him into their custody. 

As soon as Thranduil’s hands were freed, he approached you. Your form shaking from seeing and hearing the one you wished so hard to never come across again.  His rageful expression softening at the tears rolling down your cheeks, he pulled you into his embrace once more, your safe haven. 

“Focus on my heartbeat, my Melda tár (beloved king)... You need not look over your shoulder anymore.” And for the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe. 

Thranduil’s embrace being a solace in the storm of your emotions, a safety net ready to protect you from the harm awaiting in the darkest of shadows.

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[adelaidedrubman]

'does that feel good?' maybe for the chaotic jessie and john? 🤔✨

babe i gotta apologize because i feel like you always send me the softest and sweetest choices of the prompts and i always say "cool time to do something fucked up and evil with it." sorry. i am who i am. thanks for sending nonetheless.

word count: 3.3k (brevity? never heard of her)

pairing: john/jestiny

warnings: NSFW, bitches who should really just go to fucking therapy.

There were many, many ways Jestiny fantasized about breaking John Seed. Scenarios dreamed up late at night of ways to make him beg her for mercy, how it would look to finally see fear flash uncontrolled in his eyes, how icy blue could melt and ripple with panic. How he'd look trembling in terror when he had nowhere to run, lips quivering as he pleaded to her for his life — the exact kind of desperate and helpless creature he'd tried to corner her to become. She wanted to see his body shake. His chest heave. His eyes gather tears.

But most of all, she wanted to hear that insufferable voice break. Those smooth, rich satins that swathed over her ears like a cocoon in showy, theatrical intonations, fluid baritones she hadn't heard falter even in the deadliest of situations. Oh, it would be a divine rhapsody to hear it crack with worry and uncertainty, to hear him choke on the thick honey he tried to feed her, struggle to swallow it back down his own throat. To hear him gasp, cry out. For the smooth, powerful glaze of his voice to splinter and shatter under pressure, fracture into weak, uneven sobs. She practically lived already for those rare moments she could hear the nearly imperceptible hitch of his breath in the heartbeat after she managed to do something he hadn't planned out for her.

And it was probably that exact focus, that single minded drive to see him break, that was ultimately her downfall. She would blame it on that, along with the fact that adrenaline is a strange and indiscriminate chemical rushing through every crawling vine of forking blood vessels without direction, lighting up every nerve ending in its coursing path.

And she felt that first spike of adrenaline, that heavy piercing chill through the center of her chest, the moment she opened the door to the spare bedroom above the Spread Eagle its owner had been nice enough to lend her these past weeks, sensing a foreign presence almost instantly. Something unnatural prickling against her skin before she even saw him in her periphery, willing her eyes to stay down, not dart to him instinctively to assess if the figure sitting with legs crossed atop her bed was a mirage of stress and exhaustion.

And because this was at the end of the day always a dance, and one of them would certainly get killed eventually trying not to be the first to flinch, rather than whip around in panic and hurry back through the door, scamper back down the steps to scream for help, she instead, still refusing to meet his stare directly, calmly and softly shut the door behind her as she stepped into her room. And somehow the act of forcing her body to go through the pantomime of calm indifference made it seep into her psyche in actuality, replaced that initial flash of flight or fight with annoyed resignation. Of course he's here, might as fucking well be.

"So how the fuck did you get in here?" She asked as she crouched down to tug apart the laces of her boots and slip them off. No, I'm not running, you fucking run. She didn't think she'd ever been so acutely cognizant of her body language before she'd experienced being watched by him, never thought to pack meaning into every slight movement. The same way he did.

Dance, dance.

"I could ask you the same question. This place doesn't belong to you." She could hear the heavy thrum of him spinning the gun stored in her nightstand against the surface of the table, the rhythmic scraping of metal gliding against wood, his own wordless language. Look at me look at me it whirred. Childish man. "It was rightfully claimed in the name of the Father."

"Then why isn't he the one here to run me out?" She asked, walking calmly to open the drawer of her chest. Try harder. "What the fuck are you doing here?" She pressed further as she pulled her shirt over her head to continue undressing for bed, throwing it to the ground carelessly. I'm staying here.

"I could ask you the same question," John chimed again. Thud. His hand landing on the nightstand, atop the gun, stopping its spinning. Look! "This town was never really yours to reclaim in the first place, you don't care about it. It never belonged to you, and now it is supposed to belong to our family."

"Yeah, and you've made it abundantly fuckin' clear you can take it back anytime you damn well please." She turned her back to him as she unhooked her bra, exposing the bare expanse of skin to him. I dare you. "And kill me whenever you feel like it, too."

Clink clink. He pulled back the pistol's slide.

She threw an oversized sleep shirt over her head, pulling it down over her shorts before unbuttoning and stepping out of them. The shirt's hem fell just above her knees, the sleeves draping down to her elbows. She smoothed it over her thighs one last time before finally turning to face him, show him the blank tranquility of her face. The hardened amber of her eyes. The weathered, flaking print of her shirt, which read 'I had a ball at the 2013 Testy Festy!'

"So either do it now, or get the fuck out of my bed, man. I'm tired," she droned as she walked closer towards him, hovering over his spot seated there.

He slid the magazine from the gun, turned a moment to place it lovingly beneath her pillow like a present for a child, sat the body of the gun back on her nightstand. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, dusting his pants off before smiling up at her, meeting her stare with that artificial friendliness in his eyes.

"I'm tired too," he replied, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Tired of giving out chances. Tired of waiting for you to come to terms with the reality of your situation."

She hated that feigned sympathy he always spoke with, the way everything he said was weighted with the insinuation that he was doing you the most magnanimous favor, and oh shouldn’t you be grateful, yes you’re welcome.

“Tired of giving you time to play your little games.”

And that did it.

That’s when she felt the slight little twitch of her nose, the tiniest movement towards crinkling in anger before she could suppress the reflex, but even when she did she knew it was too late, that little flutter was enough. She’d reacted, she’d blinked first, she’d shown him she could still be provoked, still be baited; was still ready to hang herself on his hooks.

So she might as well follow the reflex to completion, she decided that same instant, lunging at him without restraint.

And that probably would have been fine too, but it had started, gone wrong, with the guttural impulse that she would fuck up his hair, because the slick gelled locks were one of those things polished and impeccably styled about him, and the easiest and quickest to break apart, a convenient target to dig claws into, feel product hardened strands crunch between her fingers.

And maybe it was because time moved differently around him, a little fucked up like him, a little twisted and distorted — but she swore she heard him gasp the moment she buried her fingers there, before she even tugged and yelled in his face — because she already felt a sick little rush of satisfaction by the time she shouted.

“I’m the one fucking playing games?!” She had a fistful of hair to pull at now and did so remorselessly, watching his cheeks warm with pink in reaction, finally a reflex he couldn’t control. “All you’ve been doing with me is playing sick fucking games! I’m just trying to survive!”

Of all the things she’d taken from him, all the homes and farms and businesses she’d reclaimed, she immediately counted seeing him wince in earnest in that moment as her greatest victory over him, his face reddening and contorting in, she imagined, some mixture of pain and fear. Finally.

“Fuckin’ say something!” She commanded, tugging harder to jerk his head back, expose his throat a bit, Adam’s apple dancing towards the sky, then pushing her clenched fist back again, forcing him to face her.

He didn’t speak yet, but finally opened the eyes he’d screwed shut when she'd lunged, exposing the blues buried between squeezed together lids beneath sloping furrowed brows. He opened his mouth as well to speak, his bottom lip giving that subtle frightened quiver she’d always dreamed of seeing, that silent begging.

“F-Fuck,” was all he said we he did finally speak, a shudder carrying the word out through his body past his lips to flutter rather than glide through the air to her ears, the way she'd always wanted. And feeling it reverberate against her was what made her finally gain full awareness of the fact she’d climbed atop his lap when she pounced at him. Then, the fact that those inky blacks of his eyes rippled outward rather inward when she pulled at his locks, that the place his brows pinched together raised upward towards his forehead rather than downward towards the bridge of his nose, that the breaths he sucked in grew sharper and heavier rather than lighter as she relaxed her grip to rest buried in dark locks.

Satisfaction churned sick and sweltering inside her, but didn’t sour to repulsion, not even a bit, as she settled into understanding.

"What?" She cooed with the same feigned innocence she was accustomed to receiving as she curled her fingers together to grip and pull again, this time lightly, playfully, "Does that feel good?"

"I think you can at least manage to figure that one out for yourself," he panted back at her with sarcasm. But from between light gasps the words didn't carry the usual sharpness, didn't bother her the way they otherwise might have, now more the lashing out of a wounded animal than the demeaning strike of a predator.

"Don't tell me you've actually been following all those stupid purity rules?" She taunted with a snicker, now stroking her fingers almost lovingly against his scalp, resting a second hand just below his collarbone to trail along the exposed skin of his chest. "How long has it actually been since someone's touched you like this?"

John’s eyes grew briefly icy again as he jerked a hand up to grasp her wrist, circling around it and squeezing firmly as he pulled her hand from its place atop his chest. And time distorted a little again, stretching on as they sat there, eyes locked in a tense stare, trying to read each other. But just as she felt she’d finally determined the meaning of his rough grip, his cutting glare, that it was all cold fury and embarrassed resentment, he pulled her hand down instead to press her palm against the front of his jeans where he strained rigid against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he cursed again, letting eyes soften once more with a flutter of his lashes to enshroud them, just as he bucked helplessly against her hand. And it finally occurred to her then, seeing him shaking and gasping the way she’d always wanted, stuttering out broken words and struggling for any semblance of composure as he jerked his hips to follow her touch, that there were in fact so many ways to break a man, to make him unravel in front of her eyes. And this, she thought, watching pink creep down his neck with a shiver, was easily the most delicious one.

And that’s how quickly it happened, how quickly her focus shifted to make her determined to make him fall apart beneath her in pleasure rather than pain or fear. So furiously determined that she didn’t even dare to lift her right hand from rubbing him through jeans as her left lowered to join it working to undo his pants, only removing it when it was brushed aside by her left pushing down pants and underwear to expose him, circling hard around the base of his cock, never giving him a moment of freedom from her touch. He bucked forward again into the encircling palm, letting out that needy, broken little cry that hummed so good inside her.

“Yeah, show me how bad you fuckin’ need this,” she rasped at him, caressing and pushing along his balls with her right hand before moving it up to stroke his length at a devastatingly slow pace, watching desperation grow in the furrow of his brow. “How fuckin’ bad you need me.”

That drove John to open his eyes again as he thrust hips to meet her strokes, look at her with that same focus he always had, not clouded at all by the frenzy of his body. “I need to be inside you,” he rumbled, thick and rich and fluid but with that little tremble of need she liked, just what she liked. “Let me,” he said, something between ordering and begging in that deep, groaning voice.

She wasn’t receptive to either. “No,” she responded firmly, letting a hand find its way back into his hair to pull, expose his neck to her. She knew she was denying herself too, that she was slickening and aching as she touched him, that feeling the hardness in her hand press against those needing walls inside her would feel so good. But what she needed more was to watch him, watch him shake and whimper and lose more and more of his polished veneer to her touch. “I want to watch you come apart,” she said with an honesty she’d never granted him before.

“I could fuck you so good,” he hummed, rolling his hips up rhythmically to fuck into her grip as if in demonstration. “So good, Jessie, I promise.”

“I know,” she said, ripping her eyes from him for just a second to kiss at his exposed neck, now working her free hand at his shirt and vest to expose his chest to her. She scraped teeth at the delicate skin there, sucking at the moans that vibrated into her mouth, making blood rise before she pulled back to see him bruised lightly, a little more ruined for her. “But you can also cum so pretty for me.”

He gave a little whimper at that, all resignation and need as she gripped him harder, stroked him faster. She focused on keeping her pace pumping him, meeting those hard thrusts with equal force every time as she shifted to straddle his leg, grind against firm muscle through the fabric of her panties, rub her need against his thigh.

John seemed to notice appreciatively, train his eyes on the little movements of her hips as he moved his own into her touches, the slight glisten of precum dewing at his head almost as if in response to the sight. She couldn’t resist breaking away from his gaze again briefly to taste it, run her tongue along his head, savor the feeling of him frantically trying to fuck into the warm mouth pressing against him. Chasing that heat she kept pulling back from him until she was sitting upright again, and he was still bucking against her hand.

“You could at least, h-ah — Do that for me, let me cum in your mouth,” he used his last bit of fracturing composure to reason to her, pleading his case even as his body shook and chased finish uncontrolled. “I’m so close, almost there, just let me —”

“No,” she said firmly again, pushing hips down against him, squeezing him tight in her pumping hand, feeling her biceps tense with how hard and fast she worked him towards completion. “I want to watch you cum all over yourself instead.”

It all made John whimper, the pressure, her words, too much stimulation, too much of everything, as he jerked his hips up shaky and uneven a few more times, letting blue eyes darkened with overwhelming pleasure lock on her face as he found his peak.

Yes, she thought as he moved against her, looked at her with eyes pleading her not to stop. Yes, this was how she wanted him, giving everything over to her, his fists bunched and clinging at the sleeves of her shirt to anchor himself to her as he let out a final shuddering moan. Yes, she'd gotten what she wanted, needed, made him fall apart beneath her and break at her touch.

"Yes," she moaned in praise aloud to him as he finally let go, shot spurts of his release to coat his own stomach and hips, a few drops settling on her hand as she slowed and relaxed it before finally pulling back.

Jestiny tasted him one last time on her hand as she raised herself from his lap to settle back, savor the final mental picture of him just the way she’d wanted him, messy and defeated and vulnerable, covered in cum and sweat and struggling to even his breaths.

But good things can’t last forever, and he finally did even the heave of his chest, regain the strength of his muscles to crawl over to her, begin kissing up her legs, making sparks of pleasure tingle along her spine again.

“Get off me,” she ordered, anxious at hearing that same needy faltering in her own voice she’d first detected in him.

“Mmm, but it’s my turn. I want to finish you now,” he hummed, words thickening to deep honey again as he kissed along her thighs, slowly working up to the need between her legs.

And she wanted it too, wanted to feel his mouth and fingers against her, but the prospect was too terrifying, of having to share that moment of helpless surrender he’d shared with her, of trembling and gasping and clinging the way he had.

“Fuck no,” she repeatedly sternly, scooting back a little, putting enough distance between them to watch as his face fell with a theatrical show of defeat.

He gave another exaggerated sigh of exhaustion as he rose, the curve of a smirk shining through on his lips just the same as they parted to let out the heavy breath.

“Very well, let your pride deny you rapture yet again,” he tsked as he rebuttoned his clothes, smoothed himself back into place too easily for her liking. "As if you're fooling anyone, as if I don’t know you’ll be touching yourself the moment I step out of this room, thinking of me all the while.”

He gave a last dark chuckle as he paused at the door. “I know you want it, you’ll come begging to me for it eventually. And when you’re finally ready to admit that, you’ll know where to find me." He opened the door, lowering his voice as he slipped out. “Until then… Enjoy your hands. I certainly did.”

And suddenly the satisfaction drained from her body and became fury again, those parting words enraging her more than any he’d ever spoken because for the first time she knew he was actually right, she was proving him right then and there as she moved her fingers to settle into her panties, work against her folds. Not caring in the slightest that she was doing so as she chased her pleasure, even as she could practically still feel his judging gaze on her as she slipped inside herself.

Because ultimately, it wouldn’t have mattered if she did it then or waited a few more hours out of obstinance, either way he would have been right. Either way, it would have been images of him flooding her thoughts as she drove fingers against herself, pressed against hungry nerves, quickly finding that release of the pressure and the ecstasy that had built inside her. Either way, it would have been the sight of his blue eyes locked on her as he fell apart that drove her over the edge, made her pulse around her own fingers.

Jessie cursed as she came down, desire faded but anger only swelling greater inside her.

There was nothing she hated more than admitting he was right.

[old-hyper-super-clover]

Squeeze that bunny tail!

Part 4

Description: The RAD student council as well as the exchange students help out at a bar where, oops, the staff´s dress codes are those sweet bunny outfits that we all know and thirst for. The MCs, Violet and Clover, play a game of who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening without getting caught. Prepare for fluff, funny innuendos as well as my thirst over hot boys in bunny outfits.

The story is divided in several parts and will be updated every few days. find the other parts in my masterlist.

Story continues below the cut. Have fun!

Finally having stomached the midnight clothing change, the girls had to get back to work, so they kept their strategic meeting short.

However, when they finally stepped outside into the public again...

The demon lord was waiting for them.

Arms crossed, expression serious.

He was staring at them.

"Lord Diavolo...!" Violet pressed out while Clover gave a quiet but terrified "oh no he will actually kill me" as both backed away on instinct.

"May I have a word with you two?" the demon prince asked, however it felt more like a demand. They have never heard him speak in such a serious tone before.

The girls not able to give an answer other than a nod, Diavolo gestured at the staff's office room.

He let them step inside before closing the door... And locking it.

None of them have ever felt like shitting their pants more than in this moment.

"Violet, Clover" He raised his voice.

Clover had called her own death, and had accidentally pulled Violet with her.

"There is an urgent matter that I have to discuss with you two..."

That was it. The end.

Diavolo kept them trembling in a horrible silence for way too long.

"Y-yes...?" Violet somehow managed to say.

He took a heavy breath. The girls swallowed their fear.

Then, he spoke up.

"... Why do you keep squishing everyone's bunny tails? Is it some kind of human tradition? I'm dying to know!"

The girls literally felt like they just died.

"I've observed you for quite a while now, but I can't make out the reason behind it" Diavolo continued. "Please, fill me in...!"

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

It took a while to recover, but in the end, the girls confessed about their game.

"We just look how many of those tails we can squeeze" Clover said.

"It's nothing more than a joke..." Violet mumbled. "I'm sorry to have upset you..."

Diavolo blinked at them.

"Upset?"

"Uhm... Yes..." Violet frowned in regret. "We will stop being childish while working. Again, sorry for-"

"Can I join your game?"

Silence.

"Y... You want to... Squeeze the guys' tails with us?" Clover asked.

And Diavolo's natural smile said it all. So, it seemed like another opponent joined the game at half time...

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

The three parted quickly after as they were needed in the local, but Clover had an idea on how to keep things organized:

* Clover formed the group chat [Squeeze that bunny tail!] *

Diavolo: Hello!

Violet: ... Are you sure we shouldn't call the group something else...?

Diavolo: I quite like it.

Clover: Thank you, Sir :D

Diavolo: This is the first group chatroom I am in without Barbatos.

Violet: Should we add him?

Diavolo: No. Don't tell him. I am experiencing a new kind of freedom right now. Anyway, I wish you girls the best of luck in our competition!

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

As this story is ridiculously long, let’s do a quick squeeze round!

Violet got very lucky... She caught Luke while the angel had been trying to reach for something in the kitchen shelves. He was still in his first outfit (because even demons do not support children nudity, that's gross), and looked adorable, standing on that stool to be tall enough.

After squeezing his tail, Violet offered her help.

... Only to realise she wasn't tall enough either.

But oh well, luckily, Solomon appeared and was there to grab those tiny cocktail parasols.

Later, Violet also worked with Asmo at the casino area for a while and got herself another point.

As for Clover... She tried.

Tried to squeeze Mammon´s tail a second time, but the greedy boy was also a very bouncy boy.

She also worked with Barbatos for quite a while, but as much as she wanted to go get those juicy two points, she just couldn't.

Something about this pretty man was scaring her... She found out later what it was.

Violet and Clover were serving drinks.

And for two girls without any real waitress-practise whatsoever, they did quite well.

But at one table, it had to happen.

The first broken glass of the evening. Clover had been holding the tray a little too sloppy.

As an ugly scream bubbled up her throat, she already felt the full glass of demonous fall, but was unable to do anything. The shattering of glass echoed through the bar, but what was worse was the growl that the customer pressed out.

Looking down on himself, Clover had perfectly spilled his drink onto the demon.

"You little..." he grunted, standing up and ready to break her neck this instant.

Clover backed away, of course, and felt how Violet had been there immediately to back her up.

"W-we apologize for this accident" Violet pressed out.

The demon seemed to get even more agitated, now raising his hand to hit her.

"Shut up you fucking-"

Then, another silhouette stepped in front of the girls.

Barbatos was gently holding the demon's hand back.

"In the name of the owner, I'd like to offer my deepest apologies as well. In cases like these, the local would like to immediately return the money you have spent this evening, and offers compensation in form of three free drinks of your choice."

Barbatos did a little bow after having finished.

"Screw the money..." The demon hissed. "I wanna tear those humans into miserable pieces. That´ll do as an apology."

Barbatos did not look up.

"... In that case..." the butler continued. "Guests who actively threaten the well-being of our dear staff will be treated according to their own attitude."

He straightened his back, beaming the demon a formal smile. "I will show you the exit. Please, do not think of coming back anytime soon."

Despite being so cocky before, now the customer flinched heavily. Finally, he seemed to follow the butler's orders. He spat on the table in some disrespectful dick move, then left the local.

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

Violet and Barbatos helped Clover clean the mess afterwards.

"Thanks for dealing with that guy..." Clover mumbled.

"Oh, there is no need" Barbatos hummed. "If not for me, one of the demon brothers would have come to your aid. And I fear a person like Mammon would not have left the situation without a fight, so I figured it would be best to jump in myself."

The girls gave a small giggle.

"That's true..." Violet mumbled. "But that only makes you even more impressive. It's rare to see a demon so calm."

“Calm?” Barbatos looked up from the broken glass he had been collecting. He seemed genuinely confused for a moment, then his usual smile was back.

"How cute" he chuckled.

"C-cute?!" Violet blinked in surprise.

But Barbatos was already making his leave.

"Ah, don't mind it..." he mused. "The naiveté is what makes you humans so charming."

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

Clover felt safer sticking to cleaning instead of potentially making another mess, so she was wiping the tables when she heard Diavolo calling out to her.

"Are you busy right now?" he asked.

"Not really, I'm still on cleaning duty but there isn't really much to do right now... Can I help you with anything?"

Taking a careful look around, Diavolo stepped closer, lowering his voice as well. "I am in trouble."

"Uhm..." Clover swallowed her stress. "And why?"

"I lost the master key. The one the owner gave me."

"... The one you need to lock the whole place with? The one that basically gives you control over the whole bar?"

"I see you smell the trouble now."

Clover gave a nod. "I do... Should I help you search?"

Diavolo's expression changed into a smile.

"That's what I wanted to hear! Thank you."

"No problem. Do you have any idea where it might be?"

So Diavolo gave it a thought, concluding that he must have lost it during his break.

"I looked through the bathroom already” he explained. “Which leaves only the kitchen and the staff's room."

Suddenly, a third voice joined the conversation.

"I did not notice anything like a key in the kitchen" Satan said, coming to a stop next to them.

"Oh, Satan, so you have overheard our conversation..." Diavolo crossed his arms.

"Don't worry, I won't spill anything to Lucifer" the blond laughed. "He'd only scold you, wouldn't he?" Then, his gaze fell on Clover. "I can help you search."

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

Clover and Satan looked through the whole staff's office.

Luckily no one was there to ask what they were doing, especially since they just couldn't find anything. Satan gave a sigh.

"Nothing... I even looked through Mammon's jacket in case his kleptomania had struck again..."

Meanwhile, Clover was rummaging through one of the desks. Giving a resigned breath as well, she was about to give up when she spotted something shimmering behind the wooden desk.

"I think I found it...!" Clover called out.

Satan came up to her, seeing as well how there was a key stuck in the web of cables behind the office desk.

"Wait, I'll get it."

He tried reaching it from above, but some computer monitors kept getting in the way.

In the end, Satan was crouched down, head under the table as he fiddled with the cables.

"I still can't reach it..." he pressed out under his breath.

Clover grumbled in displease, kneeling down as well. There wasn't enough room for her to help in any way, so all she could do was watch Satan do his thing...

Oh no.

She had THE perfect chance to squish Satan's tail. Due to his position, his booty was right in front of her, and he seemed more than busy to even bother her presence.

Three points, she thought...

Just a little tap, she thought...

Holding her breath, she stretched out a finger and reached for the pompom...

Merely a second later Clover found herself landing on her back, her wrists being pressed against the floor next to her head.

"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY."

Satan's body hovered above hers as he held her in a tight grip.

Clover was panicking.

"I'm so sorry - I shouldn't have done that - I'm sorry Satan Sir please don't kill me - I'm an idiot - I'm sorry I'm sorry - I love you sir I'm really sorry I'm-"

"Explain yourself" he interrupted her pleading.

"Hnnngh...” Clover fought actual tears but finally calmed down. "I... Uhm... Violet and I might be playing... A game..."

"Go on" Satan demanded in a sharp voice.

So Clover took a deep breather, speaking terribly fast in her fear.

"It's a competition. We wanted to see who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening, without the people noticing. Look, it's weird, I'm sorry, Violet has some kind of pompom kink and suggested it and I can't say no to people so I joined, also because it's funny, oh also please don't tell Violet I said anything about a kink, she will kill me."

His glistening greenish eyes kept mustering her flushed red face.

"I'm not satisfied yet."

The girl gave another whine.

"Pleeaase... Dearest Satan, Sir..."

"Keep going..."

"Ah...uhm… Oh lord, my man, oh how I plead for thy mercy, oh mighty Satan...! Thy tail was so tempting, I couldn't resist reaching for it...... And also I suck at this game and need points so desperately...! It was just too perfect of a chance, please forgive m..."

She stopped.

He was smirking at her, his grin almost dripping with this sly and cocky attitude.

Clover only now felt how there was something else in-between his left hand and her wrist.

The key.

And she remembered what Violet had texted her earlier today.

"... Did you trick me? The key wasn't actually hard to grab, was it?" she asked. “You knew I would try to touch your tail.”

His smirk widened.

"Why the fascination with bunny tails?" Satan nonchalantly ignored her questions.

"... They're fluffy..." Clover mumbled bashfully. "Just... fun to play with, y'know...?"

The blond tilted his head. "Never played with one."

"... Try it, it's nice."

"Yes, I would like to" he said, enjoying the flustered mess underneath him as she tried to figure out what he was implying. "Right now" he added.

So Clover tried to stand up... But Satan wasn't letting her.

"Uhm... I-I would let you touch mine, b-but... Could I stand up first...?"

"No."

Silence.

Probably the only thing audible was Clover's boiling head as she slowly raised her hips off the ground, constantly being focused by those sly eyes of his.

One of his hands let go of her arm, reaching down while his whole body lowered slightly as well.

Instead of reaching for her back, however, he first placed his hand on her thigh. Through her fishnet stockings, she felt his touch wandering up her leg, only then he'd brush over her side to her back, finally finding the bunny tail in his grip.

"Interesting" he mused, poking and squishing the pompom as he pleased, visibly amused at her embarrassment. "Yes, very-"

They heard the office's door falling shut.

Both, Satan and Clover, stopped in their motion, even in their breathing, as footsteps came closer.

"My jacket... Where did I leave my jacket..."

They were staring at each other first, then at the person casting a shadow on them.

And... well...

Luke stared back.

Stared at the demon bending over the human, the human arching closer to the demon, touching each other in those... those clothes...!

The angel could only press out some dying squeaking noises as his face exploded in an outraged blush. He took a step back, raising an arm as if shielding himself from the evil.

"S... S-s..."

Clover was the first to move again.

"Luke, this is not what-"

"SIMEEOOOOOONN....!"

Aaand Luke ran out of the room in a great whine. Slowly getting over the shock, Clover let out a sigh.

"... He's going to arrange some exorcism for me now, ain't he..." she mumbled.

The demon only gave a chuckle. "Serves you right" he hummed.

"Wha-?! You're the one who start..." her voice gave in immediately after meeting again with this almost sadistic stare.

"S-s-stop... Satan... Since wh-when are y..." Clover stuttered as the demon continued to play with her tail.

He leaned in closer.

"You should know that trying to play pranks on me will always backfire thrice as much..." he purred into her ear.

Then, Satan let go, pulling back and rising onto his feet.

"Well, I think that is enough of a punishment for now. I'll go and bring Lord Diavolo his key."

Clover sat up as well, but her legs were way too wobbly to do any more than that.

She glanced up at him, seeing him wave a goodbye.

"See you around" he hummed, adding a little wink before heading out of the room.

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

About another hour had passed when Clover and Violet decided to check up in Diavolo again...

Clover: Lord Diavolo, how is the game going?

Diavolo: Good! I have 62 points so far.

Clover: WHAT

Violet: U-uhm... May I ask how you got to have so many...?

Diavolo: I asked Barbatos to let me touch his tail.

Clover: ... For all of the points?

Diavolo: Yes :)

Violet: ...

Diavolo: What is wrong? Is that not a good score?

Clover:

It is... But... We actually had made some rules that we didn't get to explain...

Diavolo: Oh! Which would be? :)

Violet: Uhm... For example, you are not allowed to squeeze the same tail twice in a row, and the target is not supposed to notice you...

Clover: Meaning... If you simply touched Barbatos' tail 31 times in a row with him knowing... You would have... No points yet...

Violet: ...

Clover: ...

Diavolo: :(

----------

Ironic enough, Diavolo had been taking a break in the staff room while texting.

Minutes later, Barbatos came in to bring him something to drink.

"Barbatos! You are not allowed to notice me anymore when I touch your tail. Apparently I did it wrong the whole time!"

"Of course, my lord" the butler answered, the slightest smirk glistening in his eyes.

Diavolo noticed immediately, pointing out how Barbatos looked way more relaxed than usual.

"Oh, do I?" Barbatos tilted his head. "Well, it certainly is a weight off my shoulders to have a crew to rely on. For most parts, at least."

He was heading for the exit already.

"And I am glad to see you are enjoying yourself, my lord" he smiled. "I will have to thank those girls for that..."

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

Violet was working at the bar.

Lucifer had promised her to teach her some cocktail mixing, and there they were.

Turns out she was learning quickly, and the demon soon entrusted her with serving drinks to actual customers. Keeping an eye on her, Lucifer watched as Violet worked, also receiving help from Asmo.

... Which was impressive, by the way, because anyone could sense that Asmo had been sneaking some drinks here and there, and was getting a little... Tipsy.

It showed at one point, though. A customer came up, asking for a drink rather difficult to mix.

"I can do this!" Violet assured her friends and started mixing the juice.

But just as Violet was bending down to put some ice cubes into the drink...

They heard -- and Violet felt -- a slap that was audible even despite the quite loud music playing.

And everyone around them went quiet.

Blinking, Violet straightened her back again, turning to find Asmo behind her.

"Did. You just."

"Slap your ass? Fuck yes I did!"

"Asmo!!"

"Come on, you CAN'T expect me to NOT go for that booty when you're stretching it RIGHT into my FACE."

Lucifer next to them barged in. "But you can't just do th-"

"It was on INSTINCT" Asmo said.

"What do you mean, instinct?!" Violet asked, her face still in a slight blush.

"Oh my godddd, I'm the avatar of LUST, if I see a cute butt I just can't help it!"

"Asmo, that's not okay", Lucifer scolded. "You need to learn to control your sin."

"WHY?! Y'all have your quirks too, why am I not allowed to be myself?! That's so unfair, I always get shouted at! Like, Beel's also snacking our whole storeroom empty but THAT'S fine, huh?!"

Lucifer´s eyes widened. "He's doing WHAT?!"

"And Mammon is stealing money out of the guest's pockets, but NO, let's sue ASMO for giving a booty the appreciation it DESERVES!"

Lucifer looked like he was about to have a stroke. A growl crawled up his throat.

"MAMMOOOOOONNN...!!!"

And he was gone.

Asmo turned to pout somewhere, and Violet was left at the counter, still a little overwhelmed.

The customer slowly raised their hand.

"... Could I... Get my drink now...?"

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

 Chapter 13

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warnings: Violence, Language

Well, this is the final chapter before the epilogue. For a story I started last August and put away thinking no one would ever want to read, I was proven wrong. I cant imagine I will write another story that I love as much as this one. It turned into something I never planned and if you could see the original outline, it is nothing like this. But I appreciate you all so very much for sticking with it and willing to accept an out of the box plot line. I love each one of you who messaged, reblogged, liked, or commented...like seriously, it was my motivation to keep going and to do better.

A/N: Thank you to @mskaneko for the moodboard above. I saved it just for this chapter because it captures the heart of the main characters and this series so well.

And @burnsoslow I swear to God, you are the bestest friend I could ever have asked for. I'm sure you have just as much of yourself in this as I do. You've not only edited the hell out of this series, but literally dropped what you were doing to do so. There are portions you've written or just made better. I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH...EVER for brainstorming, your ideas, talking me out of my stupid ideas and cheering me on. I hope you always know how much I appreciate and value your friendship and help.

With her heart and mind racing in unison, Riley’s hand rapidly shifted the gears of Maxwell’s black Aston Martin Vulcan.  Her knuckles whitened from their tight grip on the steering wheel as she pressed down harder on the gas pedal of the luxury sports car. The V12 engine roared with fervor when they sped up down a straight stretch of dark highway; the momentum caused both she and Maxwell to jerk back harshly into their plush leather seats. Her passenger’s disapproving glare and heavy groan had no effect on her. The only thing on her mind was the impending death that awaited her in the Cordonian harbor ahead. 

Riley had no recollection of her first death, nor the physical pain her body experienced from the cyanide she had unwittingly ingested before bed weeks ago. The effects of the poison ravaged every cell in her body and hastily shut off her respiration. Those two tiny pills that Amanda had offered her that day to relieve a headache had consumed and destroyed the organs in her body in less than six minutes. If the message Olivia had revealed to her in a dream less than an hour ago was any indication, this second death would be twice as horrifying. 

Recalling the heavenly conversation in her head with the apparently deceased Duchess of Lythikos, Riley saw an opportunity. If she were to believe Olivia’s prognostication and warnings and followed through with her former rival’s directions, was it possible her story could end differently? She had nothing left to lose and everything to gain by finding out. Her fear of dying for the second time, however, was staggering. 

A devilish smirk curled Olivia’s bright red lips as she arched a sly brow. “It's time, Riley. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”

Would this plan even work? 

Shaking her head to dismiss the terror that threatened to overcome her, Riley flashed a glance over at Maxwell’s lap. His nimble fingers cautiously attached lead wires from an old cell phone into a c4 pipe bomb they had swiped from the armory. There were only two people she knew who had ever handled explosive devices: one she trusted — Olivia -- and the other she was astonished hadn’t already blown them up. “Maxwell, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Swiftly peeling off a strip of duct tape and biting it in half, he puckered his forehead in deep concentration and wound the strip carefully around the explosive contraption. Pausing a moment to inspect his work, his eyes shot back to her with a flash of uncertainty. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” 

Shaking her head to dismiss the terror that threatened to overcome her, Riley flashed a glance over at Maxwell’s lap. His nimble fingers cautiously attached lead wires from an old cell phone into a c4 pipe bomb they had swiped from the armory. There were only two people she knew who had ever handled explosive devices: one she trusted — Olivia -- and the other she was astonished hadn’t already blown them up. “Maxwell, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Driving through the entrance that led to the marina, Riley dimmed the car’s lights and pulled into the empty spot furthest away from the vast cluster of docked boats and yachts. Shutting off the engine, she bit the corner of her lower lip and stared blankly at the moonlight’s yellowish glow treading along the ripples of seawater in the distance. As much as she wanted to be brave and strong, believing it was the only way she could get through this, she wasn’t ready. How long would she struggle and claw her way for a single breath as the ache and emptiness in her lungs became something she could no longer fight for?

God, help me, she thought as she closed her eyes and the first stream of tears rolled down her cheeks.

Maxwell placed a comforting hand on her cold and trembling forearm. “Riley. You don’t have to do this. We can turn around right now and --”

“No!” She swiped roughly at the tears that flowed steadily. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I came back, Maxwell. This was always meant to be temporary, and I agreed to it knowing full well the repercussions of that decision. Olivia warned me: This is the only way to ensure Amalas doesn’t hurt Liam or Ellie after I’m … gone.” 

Riley’s head fell back against the headrest, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. She rolled her head sluggishly to the right to catch Maxwell’s worried eyes still fixated on her. She drew a shaky breath. “Promise me something, Max.” Her raspy voice was barely above a whisper, and he nodded back with his full attention. “Make sure when Liam gets here … well, just … just don’t let him get himself killed trying to save me. Can you promise me that?”

Maxwell ordinarily lived for intense moments of danger, but even this was beyond his level of comfort. 

He turned away from her. Nothing made sense to him at that moment as he shook his head and gazed silently out his window, not knowing what to say to her. His best friend was minutes away from another death, and he was nowhere near ready to face her absence in his life again, especially one based on a dream. And somehow he could sense his friend knew more than she was telling him.

This was insane.

“Maxwell?” Riley pleaded. “Please.”

He spun his head back around to face her again, wanting nothing more than for her to change her mind and return to the palace. Unable to avoid her plea, he huffed with a half-hearted smile, “You already know I will. That’s not even something you have to ask.” 

Riley breathed a heavy sigh of relief before reaching behind her seat for the leather satchel she brought. “Then let’s do this.”

Maxwell set the timer for 15 minutes, which would allow her enough time to walk to the small yacht where Amalas awaited Riley’s arrival and for the boat to pull away from the marina. The last thing they wanted was for someone innocent to be harmed when the pipe bomb detonated. Whatever plan Olivia had shared with Riley was clearly upsetting to the woman he thought of as a sister and yet, he trusted it. As Maxwell gently lowered the explosive into the bag she held open for him, he caught a tiny glimpse of hope behind the dread in her eyes that suggested this was bigger than he realized.

As Riley shrugged off her sweater and placed it inside the bag to conceal its contents, Maxwell noted the time on his watch. The minutes were passing by faster than she realized when she opened her door and gave her passenger a knowing look. 

“You know what to do, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Wait for Liam and Drake to get here. Search the port side of the boat after it explodes for you. Aaaand …” He smacked his forehead several times to remember the last point.

Riley’s brows bumped together in a scowl. “And don’t let anything happen to Liam!”

He threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, I got it!” Pausing for a moment, he watched Riley step out of the car and adjust the satchel on her shoulder. “Riley, wait!” he called before hurling himself across the console to look out the driver's side door. 

She leaned down into the car. “What is it, Max?”

“Will I ever see you again?” His voice cracked.

Straining to hold back her own tears, Riley closed her eyes and took his sadness to heart. She wanted to give him the truthful answer: She didn’t know what the outcome would be, only that Olivia was working on it. There were a million things that could go wrong, and she had no control over the situation. She opened her eyes back up, barely able to make out Maxwell’s downcast face in the darkness, and smiled softly back at him. “I hope so.”

After closing the car door, she sucked in a deep breath and exhaled steadily to calm her nerves before making her way to the docks. As she made long strides towards the marina, she pulled out her phone and glared at the text message Amalas had sent to her with the location of her boat. She shut her phone off again, not wanting to trigger the explosive before it was ready. 

Through trepidation, her heart pounded.

Through adrenaline, her body shook.

As waves crashed and sprayed along the shore, her senses heightened. She shivered from the cold sea air that swept over her bare arms causing her teeth to chatter. Tiny droplets of rain washed away the sheen of sweat that clung to her blanched face from her hairline down. No matter the outcome -- whether Olivia could find some way for her to stay or not -- she was going down on her terms. If the only thing that happened in the next few minutes was guaranteed protection for Liam and Ellie, Riley won.

“It’s about time you got here.”

Recognizing that voice from their many encounters in ballrooms and a Texas bar, Riley tossed a glance over her shoulder. The thin silhouette of power and intelligence stood with a hand on her jutted hip and a power suit that matched her over-inflated ego. Riley curled her lips while the weight of anticipation for revenge built in her chest. 

Standing on the deck at the stern of her small yacht, Amalas cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t have all night, Amanda. Are you just going to stand there?”

Riley turned on her heels, clutching her stomach protectively, and stepped up the wooden planks that led to the deck of the yacht … and her destiny.

Amalas gestured for Riley to have a seat while she poured a glass of champagne for herself. 

Riley  the bag from her shoulder and placed it at her feet.  Before taking a seat on the cushioned vinyl sectional that lined the railing of the boat, she swiped away the tiny drops of drizzle that had sprayed in under the canopied roof. She crossed her legs and tried to get comfortable. “So … you needed to see me?”

Amalas laughed wryly and placed the champagne back in the ice bucket. She took a sip and twisted around to face her adversary. “I did need to see you.” She lifted the glass to her lips and spoke coolly. “Queen Riley.”

Internally, Riley laughed at being called out. At this moment, it didn’t matter what Amalas knew, nor did it matter that Amalas thought she had the upper hand in the situation. You’ll be overcooked fish food in about five minutes, bitch. Riley shrugged her shoulders with a cocky grin. “I suppose my little secret is out of the bag. I assume you have a mole in my palace.”

Amalas chuckled sardonically as she casually took a seat on the opposite end of Riley. “Of course I have a mole in your palace. I had to see that my dear cousin was fulfilling her obligations. Imagine my surprise, though, to find out what that cocksucker, Neville, did to her … such a shame. But, I will say, it certainly helped that you and your king weren’t exactly discreet in your ... activities. And someone may or may not have overheard a discussion or two between your little squadron of BFFs.”

Riley felt the boat shudder under her feet as it pulled away slowly from the marina. She took in a deep breath and placed a hand over her tummy.  Shit … this is it. Hold on, little one; we’ll be together soon. Everything was occurring quickly and exactly as Olivia had told her it would. Liam will be here soon.

She tilted her head to face Amalas, whose eyes swept over Riley’s shoulder. Before Riley could follow her gaze, a strap of leather wound tightly around her neck from behind, cutting off her airway. She instinctively tried to fight her way out of it but knew it was useless. Her bulging eyes watched Amalas smirk, swirl her champagne, and down the rest of her bubbly drink. 

“I always win, Riley. Even if I have to kill you over and over again.” 

The guard who was strangling Riley understood this statement as his order: “When you’re finished and the Queen of Cordonia is dead, toss her overboard.”  The guard nodded as he continued to tighten the strap, and the Queen of Monterriso walked away, feeling confident of her victory.

____________________

Maxwell shuffled along the wet pavement, his watery eyes never once looking away from the yacht Riley boarded as it left the marina. He had never wanted to break down more than he did at that moment. Knowing that she was scared, that she was alone, and that she had just sailed off to her death -- it was too much for him. 

And he had a front-row seat for all of it.

Frustrated that he was losing sight of the boat in the darkness, he cursed under his breath and considered hijacking a vessel to go after Riley himself. That was, until the screeching of tires in the distance pulled him away from his thoughts. He turned to see a truck speeding toward him. Maxwell knew exactly who it was and flailed his arms to catch their attention.

Liam jumped out before Drake had a chance to stop the vehicle completely. Barrelling towards Maxwell, his white button-up still stained with Neville’s blood, Liam was noticeably in full panic mode. 

Skidding to a halt, Liam grabbed both of Maxwell’s arms and jerked him closer in desperation. “Where is she, Maxwell?”

He nodded to the open waters. “She left several minutes ago with Queen Amalas.”

Liam glanced out with his fist balled in his hair. “Fuck! Why the hell did you let her go?”

“I tried to stop her, Liam -- I swear it -- but she wouldn’t listen to me!”

Drake tugged on Liam’s elbow and pulled him away. “Come on. You can stand here and argue with Maxwell all night … or we can get a boat and go after her.”

Liam’s eyes darted around the marina until he set his sights on a cabin cruiser several rows over. He jerked away from Drake and hammered his feet in its direction. Hoisting himself up and over the railing, his friends following behind him, he banged frantically on the cabin door with both fists. Drake and Maxwell searched the aft deck for something to shatter the glass of the door with until the distinct click of a lock and a middle-aged man in nothing but his boxer shorts appeared in the doorway. The man appraised Liam and scowled. “Who the fuck do you think you are, banging on my door in the middle of the night?”

Liam pushed his way past the man, and Drake grabbed the occupant by his arm before he could go after him. “That’s the King of Cordonia. You can either get your ass off this boat now -- or I can put you off. Your choice.”

Maxwell unraveled the ropes from the cleats on the dock that secured the boat and made his way to the helm. Drake started the engine and maneuvered them away from the marina. Liam turned to Maxwell when he heard him approaching. “Which way do we need to go?”

The youngest Beaumont wasn’t entirely sure. Under the blanket of darkness, his sense of direction was skewed. Maxwell pointed in the path he last recalled, knowing that the explosive would ignite any second. “Head northwest … but there’s something you really need to know.” 

Before Liam could respond, his breath hitched, and a sense of emptiness and a hollowness in his chest suddenly overcame him. It was like one of the greatest parts of himself had suddenly slipped away.

Again.

Liam didn’t need to ask himself what it was; he already knew. It was that same feeling he’d had in a chilly hospital room almost four months prior. And as much as he wanted to shake that feeling, to simply deny it was there ... the heart didn’t lie. 

His love was gone.

She had returned, just as she wrote she would in the letter to him. Just as she told him from the very beginning would happen. Except this time, she was taking a tiny part of himself with her, one he hadn’t known they’d created until Drake showed him the final message Liam would ever receive from his beloved wife.

As a lone tear slipped down his cheek, he wept to himself, “Don’t be scared, love. I’m coming to get you. Both of you.”

_______

Riley’s arms fell listlessly to her sides. Her lungs now completely empty of oxygen and her heart no longer beating, the guard unraveled the strap from her neck, leaving behind a deep red ring on her pale skin. 

Adhering to the orders issued to him, the guard lifted her lifeless form with ease. Her brown eyes were void of expression as they stared blankly into nothingness. Her head bounced loosely in his arms with each step closer to the railing.  Without hesitation or compassion, he tossed her like a rag doll into the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean Sea. 

The body clung to the surface, bobbing along with the gentle waves.  

Riley’s soul departed from the shell she had inhabited: the body of her killer. For the first time in over a month, she felt like herself again. Her skin bronzed and her hair darkened. The flatness of hips and chest she had grown accustomed to grew curvier once again. An aura of radiance and warmth surrounded her. 

Approaching the heavens from where she came, Riley smiled down at the tiny infant curled into her arms. If she didn’t know better, she would swear it was Ellie. ”Hello, you.”

“I see you finally made it.”

Riley chuckled. “Good to see you too, Olivia.”

Olivia crossed her arms and eyed the baby curiously. “I see you couldn’t keep Liam off you this time, either.”

A giggle escaped Riley’s lips as she looked down at the bundle again and caressed the soft downy curls that covered their tiny head. 

She glanced back up to her friend. “I miss Liam and Ellie already. I love them so much, Olivia.”

The duchess placed a hand at the top of Riley’s back and guided her forward. “I know you do. The kind of love you shared together never goes away … I don’t entirely understand it, but I knew it was you in that ballroom by the way he looked at you. By the way you looked at him. It was slightly nauseating.”

“Just slightly?”

“Fine, it was thoroughly disgusting. Satisfied?”

Riley rolled her eyes in amusement and chuckled. “Even in death, you’re still the same Olivia Nevrakis we all know and love.”

Olivia waved her hand dismissively with a groan. “Well, this place is entirely too … cheerful and pleasant for my taste. I’ll have to oversee some changes to all this daily merriment.”

“Good luck with that,” Riley snickered. She stopped walking and turned to Olivia with a knowing look. “Soooo ... what happens now? Were you able to ... you know?”

Olivia looked to the lighted pathway. Riley followed her gaze with apprehension, her eyes demanding an answer to the question. 

“It’s time to go, Riley.”

“Where?”

______________

Drake held tightly to the steering wheel as the boat hit a melee of turbulent swells. The explosion in the distance made it easier to track the location of Amalas’ boat, but the choppy waters were difficult to drive on.

Liam stood heartbroken but silent, wearily watching out the glass panel in the boat's front. The debris that burned and spread across the sea lit up the black sky. And directly before that rubble, according to Maxwell, he would find the body of a woman who meant nothing to him. She was just a temporary placeholder for the woman he loved with all of his heart and soul. 

In his mind, he knew Riley and their baby had returned to join his mother. That finding the body that belonged to Amanda Talbert would be just that: Amanda. 

Riley Brooks rested under an apple tree at the edge of the garden maze where he had laid her to rest months ago. She would forever belong to the ages.

She had returned to save him from his anguish. His despair and loneliness. 

But mostly from himself.

And she left tonight, having saved him and their daughter from an evil plot. 

What was it about his wife that she could defy life and death to save him? It didn’t surprise Liam; Riley had rescued him the first night they met. Now she had given her last breath to do so again.

The heat from the mangled, burning boat and its debris was intense. Drake steered as close to the rubble as was safe to do so and dropped the anchor. 

Liam took a deep breath, feeling the weight of sorrow pressing against his chest and the hands of his friends’ comforting grasps on his shoulders. 

The three men exited the cabin together and stepped onto the aft deck. Each man scanned the waters that were lit brightly by the soft glow of a thousand twinkling stars, a silvery moon, and the orange flickers of nearby flames. Even with Maxwell describing the area Riley told him they would find her, it was proving to be an impossible task. 

But not one of them was willing to give up. 

This woman wasn’t even Riley, but it didn’t matter. For Maxwell, Drake, and especially Liam, she was proof that what took place the last few weeks was real. That what they felt in their hearts was true.

“Liam!” Drake tapped his best friend's arm and pointed to remnants of boat pieces. ”I see her. Right there.”

Liam squinted, not really seeing what Drake was pointing to at first, until she finally came into view. He stood there, frozen, not wanting to see her like that, not ready to accept what was obvious now: Riley had left him again.

“I … I can get her, Liam,” Maxwell offered through a sniffle and a wispy cry. “I’ll be gentle.”

Liam smiled softly back at him and shook his head. “I know you would, Maxwell. I appreciate that.” He reached down and removed his shoes, tossing them to the side. “But this is something I feel I should do.”

Liam climbed over the railing and stepped off into the water under the watchful eye of his friends on board, who were ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. 

Swimming through the serene waters that had a tinge of warmth from the surrounding fires, Liam made his way through the littered sea. All around him, black plumes of smoke billowed from pieces of fiberglass and plaster. The air was thick with the pungent odor of sulfurous diesel fuel.

 He didn’t understand why these actions meant so much to him. Yes, this woman was proof of the spiritual connection he had shared with his late wife, but she was also the one who took her from him. Why did he feel so drawn to her at this moment? Why did he feel he had to be the one to rescue her from a watery grave? He could very well leave her there, knowing it was what she rightfully deserved for what she had done to Riley. 

For what she had done to him. 

Liam recognized her clothing as she lay still, face down, on the surface of the water. Wrapping one arm around her, he attempted to swim back but found it difficult to do with one arm. Drake, noticing this, tossed out a rope and held onto the other end. Liam wound his wrist around it and began the slow journey of being pulled back to the boat.

_________

“Where am I going, Olivia?” Riley asked with a toothy grin. “Am I staying here or were you able to help me?”

Olivia smoothed down her red sequin gown with a mischievous gleam in her bright green eyes. “Never underestimate a Nevrakis, Riley. I told you I would find a way for you to stay and ... I did.”

Shocked to hear those words, that she would return to her family and friends, Riley let out an elated sob. “Are … are you serious? I’m going back? I’m really going back?”

Olivia nodded. Her thin red lips twisted into a satisfied smile.”Yes. You’re going back.”

“And my baby too?”

“Package deal, Riley. And before you ask … this isn’t temporary. When you return, it’s a done deal. It’s final. The big guy doesn’t want to see you back here for a very long time.”

Riley laughed through her tears of joy. “I sure hope I don’t let him down, then.”

“Heh. Me too.” Olivia turned to face her, her features more solemn now. She motioned behind Riley. “Now ... Your Majesty, I believe it’s time for you to go.  Liam’s waiting for you.”

Riley gave Olivia a small smile. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you’ve done.”

“Don’t even bother trying.” The duchess shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just sorry I’ll miss you two trying to explain all of this to people. I may have to sneak out of this joint and see what you come up with.”

Riley laughed before her expression grew more thoughtful. “Goodbye, Olivia.”

She smiled back affectionately. “Goodbye, Riley.”

____________

Drake and Maxwell reached over the rails and looped their arms around Liam, pulling him up to the deck. 

Exhausted and gasping for a refreshing breath that didn’t include saltwater and ash, Liam collapsed to the floor. Amanda was still wrapped protectively in one arm, her face nestled against the crook of his neck.

Winded, Drake and Maxwell hunched over with their hands resting on their knees.

As the crackles and snaps of fires echoed softly in the background, a brilliant light glowed from the sky and illuminated Amanda with a golden haze.

With eyes wide and mouth agape, Maxwell fell to his knees, speechless. Drake took a half-step forward, his eyes full of astonishment and wonder.

Liam could feel the warmth against his skin and naturally angled his head toward it. As the light faded away, his blue eyes met her brown ones. It was the same two pairs of eyes that had locked on each other in a New York bar two years ago. They shared a silent gaze charged with emotion and passion. It both electrified him and made his heart flutter. Liam studied her eyes, her radiant smile, her face that was as beautiful as a sunrise.

She looked like his Riley. She felt like his Riley. 

With his eyes brimming with tears and love, he swallowed over the lump in his throat and closed his eyes. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” 

A sweet smile emerged on her lips, and she brushed her thumb over his damp cheek. “No, my love. You’re not dreaming.” Her voice spoke softly and tenderly. “Open your eyes, Liam.”