#GIANT STEPS hair workshop

[headkiss]

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

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Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

-

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

-

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

-

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

��So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

-

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

-

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

-

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

[bullet-prooflove]

Mike franks x reader with the prompt

40. So, can we kiss in your swimming pool?

thankss!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @love-affair-with-fandoms @ihatethenciswritingteam @daddyleroyjethrogibbs @fan-fics-reblogs

Companion piece to:

Count To Five (NSFW)

When you suggest meeting at the hotel pool after hours Mike doesn’t expect to find you swimming naked. Your clothes are neatly folded up on one of the white plastic sun loungers alongside the pool, there’s two towels and a bottle of whiskey he guesses you stole from the bar sat neatly beside them.

The L.A Law Enforcement Conference that you’re attending was supposed to be a mini vacation. By day you’d both be attending seminars, testing equipment, mingling with other law enforcement personnel but at night…

You’d be all his.

It goes to hell because both NIS and SDPD are too cheap to shell out for separate rooms for their employees. He’s ended up sharing with Randy, who goes to bed promptly at ten pm and spends hours on the phone talking to his wife and new baby. You’re bunking with another female detective, one whose had a scrunchie on the door since day one because she hasn’t met a fed she doesn’t like. The parade of men coming through your room is like San Diego airport during the Christmas rush.

There’s an irony there because Mike’s spent the entire weekend with blue balls while your roommate is getting fucked three ways from Sunday. It’s driving him crazy having you so temptingly close and not able to touch you. Everytime he catches the scent of your perfume, or you brush up against him at the bar, he gets a hard on that would be very hard to explain during the HR workshop.

“How’d you get in?” He calls out across the water as he begins to undress.

The rings come off first, placed carefully on top of your clothing. His shirt’s next, followed by his shoes, socks, trousers and finally his underwear. He’s hard already, leaking because the sight of you wearing fuck all, it’s enough to bring a man to his knees.

“Someone taught me how to pick a lock.” You respond as he descends the steps into the water. It laps against his skin in small waves as he swims towards you.

“It sounds like you’re letting him corrupt you.” He says, his arms wrapping you and drawing you against him. Your thighs hug his hips as he cradles you close, his eyes locking on yours as you float together.

“Maybe, I’m corrupting him.” You murmur, your fingertips running through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

“You most certainly are darlin.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours as he notches his cock at your entrance. “You’ve been driving me crazy all damn weekend.”

He makes love to you wildly, his face buried in the curve of your throat as he thrusts inside you with long, hard strokes that have your nails scratching up his back. You start to tighten around his dick, your moans getting louder and Mike chases your release relentlessly, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again until finally you shatter underneath his hands.

You’re fucking stunning in that moment, eyes bright, skin flushed and the way you grip him…

It’s like he’s died and gone straight to heaven.

He climaxes with you, his release spilling deep as he holds you in place, keeping you filled with every inch of him. This is what he’s been missing in his life, this feeling of intimacy, of connectivity. He’s never felt like this with another woman, so complete, so whole.

You spend the rest of the night tangled up with each other on that plastic sun lounger, a towel wrapped around his hips and one draped across the both of you. He falls asleep with the taste of you and Jack Daniels on his lips, your warm body tucked in against his. These are his favourite moments, he thinks as he starts to drift, the ones where you curl up together and just exist.

He wakes up as the dawn breaks, the orange and pink hues streaking across the sky as the light starts to filter in through the giant glass skylight overhead. You lips brush over his mouth tenderly and it feels like just the sweetest damn thing. He opens his eyes to find you standing over him, fully dressed, your fingertips ghosting along the line of his jaw.

“It’s time to go.” You whisper and Mike sighs as you pull away, forcing himself into a sitting position as you saunter away.

He snatches up his underwear, pulling them on underneath the towel before he tosses it aside. His gaze comes to rest on the clock above the pool as he tugs on his trousers.

5:45am.

The pool opens in fifteen minutes.

“I’ll see you back in San Diego Special Agent Franks.” You say without so much as a second look.

“I hate it when you call me that.” He responds because it feels so fucking impersonal considering how you’ve just spent the night together.

You don’t respond, you don’t even hear him because that door, it’s already closing and leaving Mike all alone.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[novthewolf]

HII IS THIS A NEW BLOG ur theme is so cute giggles 💕💕

*drops request about jinx w a fem or gn reader doing her hair*

Knotted hair, knotted mind

(Thank you very much anon ! ^^)

Pairing : Jinx x GN!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : foul language, depiction of schizophrenia, english isn't my first language.

Words : +1,3K

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The huge metal structure groaned the more footsteps you took. You hated it here for the sole reason that it was incredibly deadly, and you didn't trust your feet to not betray you and make you fall to your death.

But for Jinx, you were more than willing to face your fears. Once again, she suffered from a breakdown in the middle of a mission, and the moment you got back to the headquarters, she bolted towards her room.

"Jinx ?" You call out, only to be answered by the echo of your own voice. Taking baby steps across the bridge, your eyes scanned the whole room. She could literally be anywhere. Really, she never ceased to amaze you, but this time, you just hoped she didn't hide away.

The deep void was pulling your eyes down towards it. A stream of curses targeted at your brain poured out of your mouth. Thankfuly, you could see the clumped counter in the centre of the giant room coming further. You rushed the last steps and totally leaned on Jinx's workshop, some of her makeeries falling to the ground. "We should really put fences around here." You whined.

A struggling sob resonated within the terrifying open space. Your eyes shot up, and you searched for your friend. She sat there across, her deeply blue hair totally discoloured on her head, as she pulled on it with concerning hatred. You gasped audibly and rushed to her side.

Kneeling down beside her, you hushed her to scout away from the edge of the plateform. Normaly, she wouldn't risk anything, but in her state, you didn't want to tempt the devil. You tilted your head to catch the expression on her face. "Jinx ?"

In the depths of her crisis, Jinx's expression was a haunting portrait of anguish and confusion. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now mirrored the chaos swirling within her mind, haunted by unseen spectres and twisted visions. Lines of tension etched her brow, and her lips trembled with unspoken words, unable to articulate the torment raging within her soul.

Each fleeting emotion flickered across her face like shadows dancing in the dim light. Though her features were drawn and haggard, there remained a flicker of resilience in her gaze, a glimmer of hope amidst the storm that raged within her.

"Jinx, hey, listen to me." Her eyes snapped to yours, tears falling down her 

As the shadows of evening draped themselves over the room, you sat beside Jinx, whose once bright blue eyes were now clouded with fear and confusion. Her hands trembled as she clutched her long hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a gentle touch, you reached out, her hand finding Jinx's quivering shoukder, offering a silent anchor amidst the storm raging within yourriend's mind.

"I'm here, Jinx." You murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous backdrop of young women's thoughts.

Jinx struggled to make sense of the fragmented and distorted whispers of her dead family that echoed in her mind. But you remained steadfast by her side, a beacon of unwavering support in the darkness.

"You're here too. Just you and me." With patience born of love and understanding, you guided her through the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

Together, you navigated the turbulent currents of Jinx's inner world, untangling the threads of reality from the tangled web of hallucinations and delusions.

"I didn't mean to fuck it up... I-It's just those fu-fucking blue firework thingies !" She gestured violently, and you had to duck your head to avoid getting slapped in the face.

"I understand... We should have been more careful. But we made it back; we're here. You are here." You smiled softly, not meeting her eyes, knowing it would only overwhelm her more.

She exhaled loudly and threw her head back, her legs bouncing rapidly. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared presence, you became the blue-haired lifeline, anchoring her to the present moment and gently guiding her towards the light. With each passing moment, the storm began to subside, and a sense of calm descended upon the room like a gentle rain after a tempest. Her small hands finally let go of her long hair and slid down her sides.

You felt her calm down gently, her eyes finally meeting yours. Your caring smile reassured me immensely. After her sister had abandoned her, Jinx kept seeking that loving and patient presence she lacked. Silco offered her the patience and structure she needed, but you brought her the unconditional understanding she craved. Something that could actually help her untangle her mind when the voices came nagging.

She hummed when your fingers brushed through her hair, smiling when she heard you chuckle. "Your hair is all messy..."

Jinx rolled her eyes but looked down bashfully. "Do you want me to brush them?" You offer quietly. The last thing you wanted was to cross her boundaries, though you knew she deeply enjoyed your touches and care.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Okay." You mirrored with a soft smile. Standing up, you offered her your hand, which she gadly took. You guided her towards her work table and sat her down on the chair.

You sat behind Jinx, who still bore the remnants of the storm that had ravaged her mind. With tender care, you began to gently comb through her tangled blue locks, her touch as light as a feather against Jinx's scalp. You put extra care into not pulling her hair or the knots in them.

"Can I braid your hair ?" You whispered softly, your voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. She nodded wordlessly, her eyes flickering with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion, her head tilting back, leaning into your touch.

As you deftly wove Jinx's hair into intricate plaits, the tension that had gripped her features began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.With each twist and turn of the braid, your fingers worked their magic, creating a rhythmic dance that seemed to lull your friend into a state of peaceful surrender.

As the braid took shape, you spoke in hushed tones, sharing stories and memories from their shared past, each word a gentle caress against Jinx's troubled soul.

"I was terrified of heights as a kid... well, still are." You chuckled, continuing the long braids, her hair seeming endless. "Which is, y'know, quite practical when you live in a city with mostly flying structures." Your joke earned a small giggle from her.

With each tale, the invisible barriers that had separated them began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended the confines of their physical surroundings. And as you secured the final knot of the braid, Jinx's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours with a newfound sense of clarity and gratitude. In that fleeting moment, as they sat entwined in each other's presence.

You blushed slightly as you made her chair spin around. "There. Even prettier than before, I didn't think it could be possible." You winked, trying to come out confident.

She scoffed half-heartedly and nudged your leg with her own. Her gaze dazed at her inventions lying around. "Thanks for being there for me." She couldn't meet your eyes, but her voice carried all the thankfulness she felt.

You chuckled breathlessly and caressed her soft skin with your knuckles. "It's nothing, love. I got your back." Her cheeks heated up at your words, and she played with the newly braided hair.

As the night wore on, you remained vigilant by Jinx's side, offering comfort and companionship until the first light of dawn. From this moment on, she knew that no matter how fierce the storm raged within her, you would always be there to guide her and brush her worries away.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

[tparker48]

Request from Anonymous

Evening had arrived as the streets of the neighborhood began to quiet down. Cars pulled into their driveways, people from inside heading into their homes. In a car resting inside a garage, would be a man named Hogan. He yawned as he got out of the car, tossing his safety cap to his workshop tool table near the front of his car. He dragged his feet toward the main door, and the cold breath of the air washed over him. The corners of his construction gear bulged into his arm pits, the sound of tears seething from his shoulders. He lowered his bag toward the wall, and his body became lighter, like a boulder had just been lifted from his back.

“One down, now I just gotta get these..” He sucked in his gut, grabbing the zipper of his uniform as his stomach bounced across his waistline. Sawdust splashing into the air, casting its particles into the sunlight as they danced from the laundry room window. He took to his pants, and let out a satisfied grunt as he kicked his boots off. “That’s better.”

He kicked the leathery shoes next to the washer machine, tossing his clothes into the opening as he walked bare into the living room. He grabbed his headset from the living room table and put them on. He crashed to his stomach on the floor, his console turning on along the shelf. After hours of work, what better way to unwind than through quality gaming.

He crashed to his stomach on the floor, his console turning on along the shelf. "Let's see what the boys are up to on deathwatch."

He flipped through the screen to his game, turning on his microphone as he searched through the lobby.

—--------

An hour had gone by since Hogan started to relax, enjoying the peace of enjoying the peace of with his online friends. The screen flashed with chaos as effects danced around the frame, Hogan’s call outs booming through the acoustic’s of the living room. But  another chaos brewed in the shadows, as a small pair of eyes peeked from the folds of a crumpled towel. Inside, would be Peppe, staring at his hubby’s backside.

“He’s finally home.” he said, a low giggle escaping from him. “Took longer than expected, but at least it gave me time to prepare.”

He dug into his pocket and fetched a tiny piece of gum, unwrapping its plastic blanket as it overtook his chest. He folded into a cubed shaped ball, and chewed at its end until the entire thing fit into his mouth. He savored the fruity flavor filling his mouth as he slinked out from beneath the towel, the smell of gas fumes polluting the air as the giant soles raked through the fibers of the carpet. 

He crept faster, the path narrowing as it centered toward Hogan. A mountain of hairy muscle rose before him, the elastic fabric over the mounds spreading atop like a blanket of snow.  After many times of venturing to his ass, he got tired of the view. It reminded him of being on an island, guarded by a musky volcano as it swayed overhead. He’d think he’d feel bad pranking his hubby all the time, but damn did it feel good to watch him squirm. And with an opportunity like this, it was too good to pass up.

He approached the crease between Hogan’s legs, the lining of crack rocketing over the bubbled ridge. He stepped upon the bulk of his crotch, sweat oozing from its surface like a leaking sponge. Must’ve been working hard out there on the construction, he thought, even after an hour of cooling still his backside was wet.

“Typical, Hogan. Big guy’s certainly not making it easy.” he rolled his eyes, gripping into the white fabrice along the left leg.

He clung to the bushed of hair, pushing into the thick borders sealing the mounds inside. His foot creased into a loose fold, warmth from beneath the fabric against as the smell of fresh sweat poured into his nose. He puffed his nose to ease its stinging sensation, continuing his climb aboard the mounds.

Sausage fingers reached from the other mound, piercing the lining of his crack Peppe dragged to the center. “Damn sweat’s going in the wrong places.” Hogan said, sliding his now glistening palm from the crack.

"Easy horsie, can't have your rider bucking off with the reins." Peppe whispered.  

He climbed to the top of Hogan’s ass and caught a glimpse of the horizon. A slope met before him as it climbed to a meaty neck above, the Tv screen flashing behind Hogan’s frenzied hair. He cherished the view for a moment before digging through his pocket, pulling a bulky string from inside. He opened his mouth and stuck the end of the string against the sticky mass, molding it with his tongue to ensure it was secure.

 Phase one of his great prank was complete, now it was time for the main event.

He approached the top of the elastic fabric, peeling a corer for himself as he tucked his feet inside. He shimmied himself between the mounds, watching the warm flesh rise as they spilled over his chest. Hogan’s fingers returned, stamping just a foot from Peppe as it stirred in place. 

“That works.” He said, shimmying the rest of his body as he slipped beneath the surface.

 The damp fingers wagged above as he dove into the mounds, flesh molding his body as they swallowed the light. Strands of hair snagged at his limbs, the scent of dry cement reaping his nostrils as sweat dashed into his clothes. After all was said and done, he had to remind Hoga to take a shower. Any more scents added to his musk and he’d be a walking gas station. The hairs thickened as they spread into him like a brush, revealing a red puckered star as it winked with sweat. It blew kisses as Peppe wisped past its folds, cushioning at the bottom as his foot sank between two soft boulders. 

“Target acquired,” He spat the gum from his mouth. “and just enough hair to strap on.”

He placed the wad against the ridge of the hair taint, cherry picking bunched hair as he molded them into the gum like clay. Hogan’s  legs shuffled, scooping Peppe close as he planted against the warm testicles.  

"What’s this guy teabagging for? Our team won that fair and square! Let me get a crack at him, I'll give him some nuts he can teabag!"

“As competitive as ever” Peppe mumbled, peeling from the damp skin. He spun a portion of the string to anchor Hogan’s hairs. They sprawled out like a row of vines, their sweat soaked surface brushing against him as if it were a paint brush. Before long, the task was complete, hairs wrapping around the gum as if they were holding it up. “Like a bouquet of smelly vines.” he patted at the top of the gum.

He crawled toward the bottom of Hogan's balls, the dampened fabric appearing as it stretched behind him. Peppe followed its path until it curved upward, taking to the thick hairs covering the mounds as he crawled back the way he came.  They slid through his fingers, his body cast back down as he tumbled into the mustache covering his anus. Its bristles tickled his nose as he swatted them away, grabbing a handful in a bunch as he climbed up its length. 

“Yeah that’s right, take all these nuts!”Hogan roared, his own thighs moving as the sac below squished into the fabric. 

Peppe fought its sway, gripping harder at the strands of hair as he reached  toward the slanted lighting of the crack. He slithering his palm back into the cool world of the living room, shimmying the rest of him through the caked mounds before Pulling the rest of the rope out of his pocket.

“Alright..that’s my workout for today.” Peppe wheezed.

 He climbed back to the top of Hogan’s waist, and looked to his head. Still he faced the Tv screen, even after traveling through his underwear. Just what he was expecting, and now it was time to retrieve the fruits of his labor. Wrapped the end of the rope around his wrist, the line straightening as it darted beneath the fabric like an anchor.

“Oh ho, prepare for a sting of your life Hogan.”

"Well done guys, we managed to pass that squad without setting them off. Too bad we can’t say the same for you..”the mute icon appeared on the side of the screen,Hogan batting an eye backwards. “..Peppe.” 

He froze at his words. “Huh?!”

 the string tightened as he yanked him beneath the underwear, like a fish caught on a hook as he burrowed through the mound of flesh. The dimmed space greeted him once more, his face dragged along the hairs resting in the bubbled valley. From what took minutes turned to mere seconds as he was dragged beneath the bulk of the testicles, fingers fiddling at the string as if it were a spider retracting its web. His back clung to the wad of gum at the taint, the fingers taking to his side as they jammed him beneath the muscular boulders. He gritted beneath its weight, the clammy skin spooning his ears as they acted as restraints on his head.

The ground shifted as  fingers pulled the waistband apart, Hogan’s face peering inside. "What do we have here, a munchkin taking a dip in my underwear."

Peppe shuffled a fold from his mouth. "What gave me away?"

"Come now, as many times as you explored my body, don't you think I would know if something complex was in the way?" He dwindled a finger through his pubes decorating the round spheres between his legs, swirling a patch of Peppe’s into the mix. "Hair pulling. Tsk, you gotta do better than that, dumpling."

"What can I say? It's a classic."

"Uh huh, charming. You know you're getting  punished for this right? I missed a lot of shots because of your meddling. Naught, naughty." He squeezed his legs together, Peppe’s lips smacking as they puckered like a fish. "Unfortunately we’re still in a game, so consider this a taste of what’s to come."

His smile disappeared as the waistband clamped at his waist, a gust of musk washing into Peppe before the thighs shifted, and  Hogan’s weight pushed at his back. "Hubby! Come on, you can’t be made at this face. You can’t do this to your dump-" a solid surface cushioned his chin, the bulk of the giant testicles plonking atop his head. “pling..”

A soft chuckle vibrated the walls. "Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy, hun. No matter how adorable that face is."

Taking the slow route huh? Just like him to toy with him slowly. Peppe rolled his eyes forward,wiggling his head to relieve pressure from his chin. Sloshing muffled from the orbs cupping his face, like giant silos filled to the brim with water. Its body heat grew hotter as its muscle flexed, the shaft knocking out of place as it drooled into the white fabric. He was getting off at my capture, and he called him the naughty one.

But even caught, he wasn’t going to give up just yet. He shifted his gaze into one of the orbs, inhaling the dried sweat coating the skin as he leaned his fingers to his jacket. He pulled the bottom of the fabric from his pants, shedding from its layer as he pressed it into the clammed ceiling. He gazed into the maw of the musky cave, the loose skin sagging as if were going to collapse. 

 There wasn’t enough room to pull the string, but he wasn’t without options as he looked to the flexing muscle.  He laid upon his back, taking a handful of the soft skin as he pulled himself upward. The humidity between was rough feet, his skin skidding against Hogan’s as it peeled off like a sticker. The skin only grew firm as he reached the stem of Hogan’s cock, its barreled underbelly cushioning his chin. After moments of climbing, he sighed as the ever growing pressure slipped from his feet, the bag of sac collecting as the length of the shaft rested upon him.

He planted his feet upon the balls, and Hogan shifted. "What are you doing down there?"

"Putting my plan into motion. I'm gonna make you submit to your dumpling!" Peppe declared.

"Sure. And just how are you going to do that."

A smile crept along Peppe’s face, a foot peeling from one of the testicles. "Creativity." He spread his toes across the bulging testicle, and wiggled them into the tender muscle. He added his other foot, and pressed it to the other as he marched over them. 

A groan rumbled through the air, a thigh thrusting and a clunk came from outside. “Mmm..kneading my balls huh? Bold, I’ll give you that, but it's gonna take more than a few foot rubs to get me to cave.”

"That's for sure. This is just the appetizer." He cradled his limbs to the corner of the member, holding it against his body as if it were a body pillow. He worked himself beneath its underbelly to the top of the shroomed head. Its flesh radiated with warmth greater than the balls below, a salty stream spilling upon his shoulder as it guzzled from the slit. He ringed his fingers between its lips, the stream widening as it spilled at his neck. "You know the thing about being small? You can reach just about anywhere?"

He wiggled a palm over the slit, and jammed it inside. Its creamy fluid lubricated his arm, driving it to his shoulder as the lips clamped onto his shoulder like a sleeve. He plunged his other hand inside, and began to twist them through  the soggy folds as it trailed through the tight opening of the shaft.

Hogan’s body bucked, a sharp moan piercing the air as the sounds of buttons clacked from above "Oh..ff.."

Peppe's eyes became starry eyed. "Gotcha now."

He wormed more of his body toward the front of the underwear’s pouch, clinging his feet to the puffed edges as they peeled the hood away. The muffled grunts turned to purrs, Hogan’s entire waist beginning to thrash as if it were in a trap.

"Still thinking about surrendering?" Peppe giggled with excitement, grinding his elbows to circle the rest of his arms between the tight tube.

A digital voice announced that the game paused, the sound of a controller toppling to the side. "Give me 2 minutes,boys." Hogan's voice boomed, the space shifting as. Gravity tossed Peppe atop the bulging cock.

The inner tube tightened his arms like a vice, its girth nudging between his legs. The fabric yanked off and light blurred his vision, forcing Peppe to wince as his eyes raced to adjust. His gaze eventually relaxed, As Hogan’s met his, peering from the mountainous torso  high above.

"Now you done it, dumpling. You managed to make me cave?”

"I did? I mean yeah, I did! Take that, Hubby.” He declared, but looked up to a smile peering across his face. “You uh..you aren’t mad are you?”

“Me? Not all. In fact, I'm ecstatic.”

“You..are?”

“Yeah..” He replied. A palm raised beneath him, clasping at the center of the shaft. It pumped at a steady pace, getting stronger as it gripped at Peppe’s arms. “I get to do punishment early.”

Oh shit. Peppe tugged at his arms to get them free, shimmying his shoulders to lighten the pressure, but a suction locked them down, the cock’s throat pulsing as they tucked his arms together. Fingers curled around his back, hoisting his lower half into the center as it tilted toward the cock slit. He wrestled between the thick fingers, a thumb pressing his head into the lips as they  gummed the sides of his cheek.

The thumb trailed over his neck to the rest of his body, plunging Peppe deeper into the urethra. He was caught in the pull of the suction inside, guiding him through the tight crawlway of the tube as seed lathered into his side like lotion. The tender walls manhandled his body, thrashing him about in its attempts to gobble him up. The lips slipped higher, funneling to the tips of his toes as he sunk deeper. The cool air left from his feet, and the shaft became alive as its walls tenderized his body.

Outside, a lump traversed through the cock's underbelly bulging, sliding down at snail's pace as it flattened against Hogan’s twisting palm. He gritted his teeth, pumping harder to knock the protruding bulge from its spot as he massaged its soft ridges as it parted the walls inside. It bobbed over the base of his shaft, a finger tilting it for Hogan to see for himself. With a simple clench, the bulge launched and it plunged past the surface of his crotch, its form wisping through his inside as it curled down to the meaty low hangers throbbing below.

The World was dimmer in this region of Hogan’s body, the waves of muscle squeezing him like toothpaste through the tubes. He couldn’t move his body, his blood rushing to his head as he tried to face upward. He doubted it’d help with the surrounding fluid, gunks of slated goo lathered his face, sending his senses ablaze as his head began to swirl. The wall hugged closer as an opening arrived, his head smothered as  more salty fumes spewed into him like a ventilated shaft. 

He found himself in a round chamber, white goo secreting from the walls as they collected into a large body at the bottom of the fleshy dome. 

"Your balls?” He shouted, the sphincter encircling his neck. “Who shoves their love life into their balls?"

“Consider it a special treatment just for you. I was going to just shove you into one of my boots, but then you went and got me hard.”

Lumps caved from the walls, and the chamber became slanted. The white goo rose like a roaring tide, submerging Peppe’s head beneath its surface. It shrouded like a fog, the pink walls near him blurring with white smudges.

“Quite the load isn’t it dumpling? All thanks to you.” 

the tight tube squeezed at his body, rocketing him into the milky mess as he flailed to the surface. He inhaled the tainted air, splashing to keep himself afloat. "Okay, foul play! You’re playing dirty, how am I supposed to have fun in here?"

“Sorry, hun, that’s not my problem. You’ll just have to sit in timeout like a good boy.”

 The chamber flipped once more, spiraling Peppe  from wall to wall as if it were a tube mixer. He felt nauseous as he dunked and emerged from its gooey surface, his efforts to cease derailed as his palmed slid from the soft wall. It was only when the pool flipped to the ceiling did the swirls cease, and it crashed atop of him.

Hogan’s laugh vibrated the walls, crusts forming into the seed as it rocked in place.. "Ready to call it quits?" 

"You..can't possibly think..I'd give up after that." Peppe panted, his head spinning amongst the seed.

"Yeah I thought not, you’re too stubborn for that. Ah well, perhaps a little marinating will teach you to behave yourself." The chamber swayed as steps rang through the walls, the fluid jumping as it crashed upon a solid surface. "I'm back boys, what I miss?"

Peppe groaned as Hogan faced his attention elsewhere, his head bobbing against the milky waves as he tilted to the ceiling. He looked to the shriveled star in the ceiling, seed squeezing from its folds like a wet rag. That was his way out of this filled chamber, but it was too out of reach to grasp. He pawed at the doughy walls for leverage, hoisting upon the soft lumps to escape the milky pond. But their surface melted upon contact, spilling him into the seed once more.

“This is getting me nowhere, how’s a guy supposed to move when everything around you is muscle?” He tried again to reach for a fold, its surface slipping into the fluid as it glossed the wall beneath.

A moan erupted from above, the walls caving as waves splashed him in its epicenter. He resurfaced, looking to the walls as they battered the fluid along his borders. “He felt that?” He puzzled, swimming to the wall behind him. 

He smeared a layer of gunk from the lumpy surface, cupping his palm to split its flow to the rest of the seed. When clear pink muscle appeared, he pressed his fingertips into the soft wall, twisting it as it sunk breath its surface.

The walls shook again, and Hogan’s moans returned. When it finally settled, a smile crept upon his face. To think Hubby’s sweet spot would be right at the source of it all.  He swam closer to the wall, tapping his foot at the submerged flesh. When soft ground touched his toes, he shifted his legs into a running motion, his feet pattering against the muscular wall.

A sharp moan echoed the walls, Waves splashing in the seed. "What are you doing now?" Hogan's voice muffled.

"Improvising." he turned himself toward the wall of flesh, grabbing a handful as seed lubricated his hands. The chamber unraveled, globs of gunk slamming against the opposite wall as it crashed at the ceiling before it pattered onto his shoulders.

Hogan’s grunts turned to whimpers as the folds compressed and expanded,it battered its contents. "Stop being.. a brat." he strained, the walls beginning to pulse..

The seed’s current grew stronger, sweeping Peppe from the walls as he swirled around the rim.The walls compressed, and the ceiling closed in as the sphincter spasmed in place.

"Almost there, just one more push.." he assured himself, clinging to the corner of the folds to continue his efforts.

 The once spacious chamber shrunk to the size of a quarter, a mere gap separating Peppe from the chamber’s quivering lips. He massaged its folds to the best of his ability, the substance overtaking his arms as they splashed about his wrist. The walls squeeze closer as the fluid reached his chin, forcing him to tuck his nose close to the salty folds. 

"Here goes nothing." he managed to muster, taking a breath as he kissed into the center of the sphincter.

He sunk beneath the seed’s surface, suspended in the middle of the sac as the walls surrounding him became restless. Hogan’s grunt's grew louder, distorted as they became strained. Hard thumps shook the chamber, and the star above winked before it opened its entrance like a floodgate. A suction dragged at his body, pulling him against the widening entrance. Its lips barely passed his shoulder, the current flowing through his armpit as he held his breath.

A watery slosh echoed the chamber, before Hogan’s roar overwhelmed it.

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

Hogan’s body tensed, the controller in his hand slipping to the pocket of the couch. He stared weakly at his seed soaked palm, its grip still stroking his shaft as his hips bucked. "Can’t.. Hold it in..I.." he choked on his words, his head launching back into the cushion of his sofa. 

His hips locked, and seed erupted from his cock. Its warm fluid flowed like lava from an active volcano, a creamy stream filling his shorts as another drenched the corners of the chamber. He huffed as he regained control of his body, looking down to his member. its meaty length throbbed against his inner thigh, satisfied as it returned to its flaccid state.

In his weak stare, he looked to his bulging sac, the swollen orbs drooping over the side of the couch. "You kinky bastard.." he huffed softly, staring at the right nut that rocked slowly.

Inside, the pond had all but drained from inside the chamber, reduced to a hollow husk as fluid dressed the walls in webs. Stuck against the ceiling, Peppe remained, smothered by a wad of gunk as it dripped to the bottom of the chamber.

"I told ya..I wasn't finished." He smiled weakly, peeled from the ceiling as if he were a sticker. The chamber softened his fall, as it rocked slowly.. "How'd your game go?"

Hogan looked toward the screen, bits of his fluid dripping from the corners of the frame. Banter boomed from the microphone, gamertags from both his team and the opposite team flashing,

"Eh, they’ll.” he said. "Really wanted to get that streak. Was gonna get it too, until a twerp decided to get frisky.

"oo bummer." Peppe said. “Guess it goes to show you can’t shove something in your balls and not expect consequences.”

A flick shook the testicle. "Don't be so high and mighty, Dumpling. You're still in punishment time. But since you saved me the trouble of unloading in there, it’s only fair you do your part in making it.”

“You want me to make the pool all over again, didn’t you just climax?” Peppe asked, picking up a soft huff from the walls. “Wait a second, you’re not trying to get me to build up all that just for you to enjoy it personally?”

“I..I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s simply a fitting punishment for a brat like you.” he said. “Just be sure to rub them deep. So..so I’ll know if you’re doing your task.”

Peppe places his hands at his hips. “Uh huh, sure.” he traveled through the mush  of seed toward the wall, reaching at a palm as he scratched at its surface. The chamber jostled in place, heavy thumps returning as they shook the walls.

“Oo..just a little to the right..”

“Do you want me to pleasure you with both my hands, Hogan?”

“Yeah..Er! I mean no-”

“Hah, gotcha. You’re totally into this!”

“Why you little-..this is supposed to be punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying this!”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere. If I’m gonna be put to work, I might as well have fun with it, right? Oo! Now that I think about it, this space is just enough to bounce around it.”

“Dumpling, I forbid you to even try- Mm! No stop-mm..eassy in there!”

[arya-skywalker]

An Unexpected Alliance (Arcane fanfic)

Summary: Viktor has an unexpected visitor and helps her with a prosthetic. They bond over shared experiences and form an alliance.

Notes: A late entry to @arcanefandomweek ‘s Arcane Visions Week 1: Alliances. I need Viktor and Jinx to interact in season 2. Maybe they’d be friends. Maybe they’d just clash and collide. This is an exploration of how it might go. Inspired by a few trailers and promo posters, as well as some league lore; so beware potential spoilers!

Timeline wise… who knows? Just having fun with possibilities here.

TW: loss of limb, fictional drug (shimmer), cults, human experimentation

AO3 link

~*~

Viktor glanced up as a flash of blue burst into his workshop. Long blue hair. Jinx. Of course it was only a matter of time before she found him, whether he wanted her to or not. He set aside his tools and braced for the whirlwind.

She darted around the room, inspecting various prosthetics and chattering on about… something. He failed to see any train of logic, but she didn’t seem to be talking to him so he didn’t bother trying to decipher it.

“Please be careful not to break anything, some of these items are very fragile,” Viktor warned, before she could do anything too drastic.

Jinx turned to face him, eyes glowing purple. Shimmer. “Oh, there you are! Mr. Machine Herald! Almost didn’t see ya with all…” She gestured to the various parts and half-made prototypes surrounding him. He supposed his metal parts did blend in, but he rarely wanted to be found in the first place.

His gaze flicked to her left hand. Her middle finger was missing, the wound still leaking a mixture of blood and shimmer despite a crude bandage. “You’re hurt,” he blurted. “Let me help.”

She grinned. “I was hoping you’d offer! Can I get a cool upgrade? Like a giant middle finger with a laser or a blaster!”

“Let us start with the basics, hm? May I see?” he asked, holding out a hand.

She skipped over and slapped her injured hand into his. He winced in sympathy, then looked closer, taking a clean damp cloth in his free hand.

“How did this happen?” Viktor asked as he carefully removed the soaked bandage and cleaned the wound. He’d seen worse, it would likely be a simple fix.

“Stupid Piltie shot it off with stupid fancy gun. I could make a waaay better one!”

“A fancy gun, hm? What kind of fancy?”

“Oh something Hextech-y; it was glowing blue. But it didn’t explode, which is boring.”

Hextech. Jayce was making more weapons. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but still it stung. They both had failed to carry through on their promises. At least Viktor was trying to do good, but Jayce seemed to have fallen even further. Traitor.

“Hey, hey, easy on the grip!”

Viktor glanced back at her hand and loosened his grip. Something had to be wrong with the wiring of his hand to cause it to tighten so. “Apologies.” Then he cleared what remained of his throat and asked, “When did you last take shimmer? I am not judging— I have taken it myself— but it will affect how we continue, so please be truthful.”

“Hm? Oh! I don’t take it! Not like that, pfft no. The doctor did some funky experiment to save my life a while ago and I’ve been purple ever since!”

Viktor stiffened. “The doctor did this to you? Singed?”

“Yep!” Jinx nodded emphatically.

Another experiment. A human experiment. His gut twisted. Viktor knew Singed had done terrible things in the name of science. Shimmer was one of them, a double-edged sword. But this seemed a step further. Shimmer created within a human body. Had she become the new Rio? Gods, he hoped not.

Viktor shook his head. “Eh, anyway, would you prefer the prosthetic to be fused to your flesh or easily replaceable?”

Jinx tapped her chin. “Hmm… replaceable. That way I can make my own upgrades!”

“Understandable.” Viktor wrapped the wound with a clean bandage. The shimmer still in her system would likely help it heal faster regardless. He used the Hexclaw as an extra hand to make a few measurements and jot them down, then moved to find the necessary parts.

“Are you really all robot?” Jinx asked.

“Eh… not entirely.” He shrugged. “Perhaps eventually I will be.”

“That’s what your cult wants, right? The ‘Glorious Evolution’ or whatever?”

He scoffed. “They are not my cult. I do not ask for it, I do not want them following me.”

“I didn’t ask for mine either!” Jinx laughed. “Funny how that works. Just wake up one day and boom! Everyone dying their hair blue and begging for prosthetics!”

“Mm. These things are out of our control.”

“Don’t they listen to you?”

Viktor shrugged again. Mostly he avoided them and pretended they didn’t exist. “I have tried occasionally, but they find a way to twist my words to suit their purposes.”

“Mine would set Piltover ablaze for me if I asked,” Jinx said. “No one wanted anything to do with me before. My inventions never worked, or they exploded. I messed everything up.” Her voice cracked.

Viktor looked back at her, some small part of him softening. Another misfit, shunned by society. “No one really wanted me around either. I was a cripple and a foreigner. I spent much of my time away from my peers, but I preferred it that way. Someone I once knew told me that loneliness is the byproduct of a gifted mind, one of the few things he may have been right about. And sometimes we learn better from our failures than our successes, however painful it may be.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, staring at him. “Really?”

“It’s true.” Viktor hesitated a moment, trying to think of something else to reassure her. “I have seen your bombs. The design was very impressive, unique and effective. It was a challenge to defuse. You are very intelligent, Jinx. If you ever wish to put your mind to less destructive purposes, I would be glad to work with you.”

Jinx shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Here, watch.” Viktor pieced together a prosthetic finger, trimmed a bit to fit to her measurements. He attached it to a partial glove and held it out to her. Every step he explained, just in case she was interested. Perhaps it would help. “Try this on. It should fit underneath your other glove, if you wish.”

Jinx snatched it from his hand, looking at it curiously. “That’s it?”

“For a basic prosthetic, yes. As you said, you can make upgrades as you see fit. For now, try it on, see if it works.”

Jinx put on the prosthetic, and he guided her through a few tests to ensure it was functioning properly. Once she passed the tests, Jinx flipped him off with the prosthetic. “It’s perfect!”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. Is there anything else?”

Jinx was quiet for a few seconds, fiddling with the prosthetic. “Sevika said I could unite the whole of Zaun if I tried.” She looked back at him. “Hey, we should unite our cults!”

Viktor squinted at her. “Unite our cults?”

“Yeah! Make an alliance!” Jinx grinned at him.

“I have no interest in attacking Piltover.”

Jinx blew a raspberry like a child. “Boring! Why not?” She narrowed her eyes. “Because of your fucking Piltie? Your Hextech partner? The Golden Boy of Progress? Are you still on his side?”

Viktor exhaled slowly, the fans of his ventilator whirring. He had to be careful. Antagonizing Jinx and her cult would be a terrible idea. “This isn’t about him. I do not wish to fight anyone, on either side. I am a scientist, not a soldier. My creations are to improve lives, not take them. I am only wary of what such an attack would mean for the common people, on both sides. Wars rarely end well.”

He took a breath, continuing before she could interrupt, “Perhaps we could simply have a truce between us? You tell your cult not to antagonize mine, and I do the same. If any of your cult require prosthetics, I would be happy to supply.” He would help anyone who stumbled into his workshop or requested his assistance, but still it was an olive branch. Whether his cult would listen was another matter, but he hoped they would.

Jinx tilted her head to the side, seeming to stare straight through him. “That’s all you want? Nothing about your Piltie?”

“Jayce is mine to deal with. I would greatly prefer if you leave him alive.”

“I can kidnap him for you and bring him here!”

“That is not necessary.”

“But you’d rather he be kidnapped than killed, right?”

That was undoubtably a threat. Fine. Jayce would be safer with him than any chem-barons. Viktor inclined his head. “Very well. If the opportunity arises to capture Jayce without severely harming him, you may bring him to me.”

“Great! It’s a deal!” Jinx bounced to her feet. “I’ve got something of yours. You gotta have something of mine now! Can I paint on you?”

Viktor hesitated. “What would you like to paint?”

“Just some blue clouds and stuff. You know, the more hopeful version of my symbol.” Jinx brandished a blue paint pen. “You can’t wash it off!”

It could be worse. “If you must. Just.. nothing too extreme.”

Jinx grinned and climbed on top of his chair to get closer, drawing on his metal chest plate and over his shoulder. Viktor remained perfectly still, watching her work. Blue swirls and clouds and sparkles. He could pretend it represented Hextech if asked. Or perhaps it would be better to admit their strange alliance.

Jayce would hate it.

Viktor craned his neck as she moved towards his back, careful not to jostle her. “How much are you drawing?”

“What, change your mind? Gotta make sure everyone can see it!”

“I did not change my mind. I am only curious.”

“Hold onto your horses, I’ll almost done!”

Viktor went still and silent once more. It was only paint. Jinx’s graffiti was everywhere in Zaun, hardly anything drastic.

“Ta-da!” Jinx hopped to her feet with a flourish. “What do you think?”

Viktor looked over the drawings, trying to think of something complimentary. It wasn’t his style, but he had no intention of insulting her. “You certainly have an artistic flair.”

“Thanks!” Suddenly she was hugging him.

Viktor froze for a moment, processing whether it was an attack or harmless. If she meant harm, he would certainly be dead already. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. When was the last time anyone had showed him such affection?

“Careful, you might smudge your drawings,” he said, half a joke.

“Don’t worry, it dries fast.” A moment later, she pulled away. “Well, see you around!” With a playful salute, she was gone.

Viktor watched her go. Emotions were strange illogical things, but perhaps it was not all terrible.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 21

I'm going to guess the title image is Chilchuck's workshop at his house.

And there are some dolls under the table.

After finally dealing with the undine, the party makes their way to the fifth floor and now have to deal with a winding staircase full of tentacles.

Either the orcs had to just power through all the tentacles or they have thick skins and/or thick clothing to deal with the tentacle stings.

I'm more interested in how they got through the water in the fourth floor. They managed to build a small settlement so they likely had brought tools and supplies with them when they fled their village. Either someone in the orc tribe can cast waterwalk, they brought a boat or the materials to make one, or they just had to swim.

I guess tentacles are actually more like anemones than jellyfish. They're interacting with the trap crevices as if it were a coral reef.

That bit about how they can grow on mimics reminds me of the boxer crab which places small anemones on its claws so it can use their stinging tentacles to hunt prey. Maybe some mimics do something similar.

Marcille has a new hair-do.

I don't think there's anything bad about Laios's idea. We've domesticated tons of plants to be harmless and decorative. Most of the plants we grow for food are the results of centuries of selective breeding.

Kensuke is trembling in every shot he's in. It's probably because of all the tentacles in the area, but I am worried if he feels the sting from the tentacles when Laios cuts them.

Those giant frogs are kinda smart. They observed how the party fought and focused on disabling them before attacking. The frog that grabbed Kensuke likely observed that Laios was using him to cut the tentacles.

Although they're not too smart because they didn't realize that Marcille's staff and Senshi's axe might be similarly dangerous until after they'd managed to kill another frog with them.

Ambrosia is the food of the gods in Greek mythology. It's subtle, but Marcille is a bit of a foodie which is probably a big reason why she's been so frustrated about eating monsters. Makes sense that she'd name her staff after a mythical food item.

That ended up being a really close call for Chilchuck. The party is already trying to rescue one party member from the belly of a beast. They don't need to have a second party member in that scenario.

Chilchuck nearly suffocated inside the frog.

The frog hides have the damage caused to them. Marcille blew one of their heads off, while Senshi sliced one of their heads open.

It took me a second to realize that Senshi was doing something else entirely. I was still thinking they were all making frog suits.

The page of Laios and Chilchuck making suits and the page of Senshi making gnocchi are side-by-side in book format. It adds a little to the whole "They're both making weird things at the same time" feel that Marcille had.

Senshi took off his wrist covering when kneading the dough but put it back on after. Guess he doesn't want to get fur in it. If he's that concerned, he should probably wear a beard-net when cooking.

Love how Chilchuck's outfit is just a sack with legs. They only killed three frogs so they had to sow something up out of whatever parts weren't used.

Also, Laios's outfit is made from the frog that Senshi killed, Senshi's is made from the one Marcille killed, and Marcille's is made from the one Chilchuck killed.

Chilchuck's being real careful with his steps since he's just a little sack with legs. The party had to tie his backpack to him since he doesn't have use of his arms.

The frog suits managed to protect the party from the tentacle stings, but now they're coated in frog blood because Laios wasn't able to tan their hides properly. I would assume a properly tanned frog skin wouldn't be good at protecting them against against tentacles because what probably keeps the frogs safe is a mucus layer over their skin, kinda like what clownfish use to keep safe from anemones. If the skins were properly dried, then the mucus layer would dry out too.

I don't think Marcille has anything to worry about. Falin would probably adore seeing her in a frog suit.

SENSHI FLASH!!

back

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Santa Clause is Coming to Town: Single Mom Au

Disclaimer: Buckle up, y'all. This is a long one.

Kela: (steps into the house and kicks the snow off her boots)

Blake: Welcome home, sweetheart. (steps out from her office with a book in hand) How was school? Are you excited for holiday break?

Kela: (looks up at Blake with tears in her eyes and sniffles)

Blake: Oh, baby. (immediately tosses her book to the nearest surface that isn't the floor and rushes to Kela's side, kneeling down to look her in the eyes) Honey, what's wrong?

Kela: (wipes the tears from her eyes aggressively and hiccups) T-The kids at school... *sniff - hic* ...they said that Santa doesn't visit Faunus houses. He doesn't visit animals.... Is that true, Mama?

Blake: (blood boils as she pulls Kela in for a hug) Baby girl, absolutely not. You know Santa shows up every year.

Kela: (crying silently into Blake's shoulder) But we're living with Yang now. What if Santa realizes that this house has mostly Faunus? What if he only visited our apartment before because there were a lot of humans there that he didn't want to skip?

Blake: (mentally making a hitlist for children and contemplating if it's a horrible thing for adults to beat the shit out of students as she holds Kela tight and pets her hair)

Yang: (steps in from the garage, oil and grime cover her jeans and work shirt) There's my favorite ladies! (notices Kela crying) Little Fighter, what's wrong?

Blake: Some kids at school told Kela that Santa doesn't visit Faunus houses because they're animals.

Yang: (eyes flash red) Is that so? ......Excuse me. I think I hear my work phone going off in the garage. (steps out into the garage and the sound of a truck engine turning over fills the house before fading away)

Blake: (mentally) Yang, don't do anything stupid.

-A Few Days Later: Middle of the night, Christmas Eve-

Blake: (green, white, and red lights flash across her face through the cracked open door, pulling her groggily from slumber) What in Remnant? (notices Yang's empty side of the bed) Yang?

Thunk! .....Thunk! .....Thunk!

Blake: (follows the noise to the common room and gasps)

The living room has completely undergone a holiday explosion. The tree has more ornaments, garland and lights are strung in bows along the walls, candles and giant decorative candy canes frame the tree, three brand new stockings with Yang, Blake, and Kela written on them are hung up on a hastily constructed mantle, a fake snowman, and all sorts of glittering decorations are trickled around the room with a few extra presents set up underneath the tree. The presents gift tags read "to Blake" and "to Kela."

Yang: (wearing a Santa hat, white tank top, red trousers with a black belt and suspenders, a red Santa jacket is draped over the arm of the couch, and a pair of brand new work boots on her feet as she steps around the room carefully - leaving behind flour footprints with speckles of glitter on the hardwood floor as she slowly backtracks towards the mantle)

Blake: (mostly speechless and in awe) Yang, what is all this? Where have you been? I've had to tell Kela that you were on an important work project. (realizes she's supposed to be angry and props her hands on her hips) You better have a good explanation for why I had to lie to my daughter.

Yang: (beams a smile that's brighter than the sun reflecting on freshly fallen snow) Hey, babe! Sorry about just dipping out for a few days. After hearing Kela say that Santa wasn't going to show up, I had to make a trip to "Santa's Workshop" to pick up some extra decorations and make a chimney.

Blake: (anger fades) .....You did not go buy all these decorations and a fake fireplace just to make Kela feel better...

Yang: What do you think I am? Made of money? No! (finishes backtracking and slips out of her boots, tossing them in the garage, before going over to Blake in her stocking feet) I went to Patch to get some more decorations, hit up the shop to make this mantle and fireplace out of some plywood and concrete, and asked Weiss for a favor.

Blake: (blinks in disbelief) You asked Weiss for a favor?

Yang: (pulls a white envelope with Kela's name written in fancy calligraphy, red wax seal and glitter out of her back pocket) Couldn't write the letter from Santa myself. Kela would recognize my handwriting. (places the letter next to an empty plate and glass on the coffee table)

Blake: (tearing up) I don't know whether I want to slap you or kiss you right now.

Yang: Well (plucks the Santa hat off her head and places it on Blake's head) you could start with a kiss and decide whether or not to hit me after?

Blake: (adjusts the hat so her ears are more comfortable) Or I could give you a special present early~

Yang: (blushes excitedly) Lead the way, Ms. Clause!

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Pose for Me - Wanda Maximoff x F!OC

warnings: au art teacher wanda, strangers to lovers, professor x student, FxF smut involving paint, 18+

word count: 7.6k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1337111732-pose-for-me-leonor

Masterlist

Leonor's wavy brown hair blew into her face as she looked up at the imposing building before her. A college art department shouldn't be at all intimidating, but her impending destination terrified her. She shook off the nerves, flexing her fingers around the strap of her bag before bouncing up the grey stone steps. 

Already a graduate student of the arts program, Leo had taken her fair share of lectures and workshops over the past five years. Still, a new class never failed to spark up old anxiety. Whenever she was forced to draw in front of anyone, much less a group or strangers, her body was tight like the canvas her brush loved so much. 

There was a murmuring as Leo walked to the classroom. Located at the end of the long hall, illuminated by the spring sun shining through massive glass windows, it was the perfect space for any artist. Edging through the group into the studio space, Leo searched for a spot to set up her equipment, one that had good enough lighting to see but far enough away where no one would bother her. 

One of the most interesting and popular professors on campus, Wanda Maximoff, was hosting a workshop on figure painting and from the sounds of her fellow attendees, everyone was eager to begin. Leonor had never taken a class with her, nor even laid eyes on the supposedly gorgeous artist herself. The thought set off a new wave of stress and she took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves.

At the back of the room, near the corner of one of the giant windows, a shaft of sunlight illuminated a square on the hardwood floor. It was almost too perfect. Collecting one of the easels and blank canvases that rested against the wall, Leonor headed to her spot and set up the easel at just the right angle. Another trip to collect a small table, stool, and water jar and then she was ready.

Leo tied a paint smeared canvas smock around her neck to protect the pretty dark teal shirt she wore. It fell delicately against the flat of her stomach and didn’t meet the hem of her pants, leaving her midriff exposed. She was glad too - the classroom seemed even hotter as the sun poured through the high windows. The class hummed quietly around her as she got situated. The sounds of clinking water jars, paintbrushes and wooden easels sliding across the floor silenced as a door behind her swung open. 

“Hello class,” her voice wafted around, trailing down in whispers between Leo’s shoulder blades leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Leo turned to see her enter the class behind her and swallowed tightly at the sight.

Professor Maximoff was nothing like Leo imagined, and she didn't necessarily mind if her racing heart was any indication. Soft golden waves fell around her mossy green eyes, an almost mischievous smile on her face. 

"The door says Professor Maximoff, but please call me Wanda," she continued, a slight accent making every word roll a little bit. 

Leo watched slightly open mouthed as she stepped onto a small stage in the center of the room and turned to face them, unbuttoning her blazer. 

"I'm excited to see so many familiar faces, but even more interested in the newer ones," she continued, eyes shifting across the room with a soft steely gaze, until finally landing on Leo in her hidden spot.

Leo’s breath hitched as her eyes flitted across her features, her lips upturning slightly as she studied her. Electricity jolted across her nerve endings, her nerves both igniting a foreign feeling along her body and screaming at her to look away from her. But the pull her eyes and soft plump lips had were much stronger than Leonor’s will.

Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight that poured into the room and Leo could see the hint of small freckles that peppered the soft skin of her face. She would have sworn that the professor could hear the pounding of her heart across the room based on the soft smirk that upturned the corners of her pouty lips. 

"The human body is a beautiful thing if you look at it the right way. Every curve, every spot, has a meaning meant to capture the soul inside," Wanda continued, drawing in a slow breath as she moved her eyes from Leo back to scanning the room, "in this classroom today, I want these pieces not only to capture the soul of our beautiful model, but it should be about your own style, your own heart. I want to see you on this canvas as well."

The warmth exuding from Wanda filled the room and Leo was convinced she was not the only one who felt it. The rest of the class stared at the professor as if caught in some sort of spell. With a crinkle of her nose and a clap of her hands Wanda spoke once more.

“I’d like to give thanks to our model.” 

A door at the very front of the class opened, one that Leo had assumed was a store room, and a man emerged wrapped in a short robe. 

“Class, this is Steve, who has very kindly agreed to sit for us today.”

Steve smiled and nodded as the class mumbled their hellos, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room, amidst the forest of easels.

Wanda walked around him, leaning closely she whispered something in his ear, her eyes flickering over his shoulder to where Leo watched. Both smiled, a soft friendly laughter tumbling from his boyish lips as he slipped from the robe and handed it to Wanda. Both Leo as well as half the classroom got an extended view of his toned backside as he settled onto the chair, bringing one foot up to rest on the rung of the stool.

"Nice ass Rogers," the handsome blue eyed college kid positioned beside Leo hollered, sending the class into a fit of hushed laughter. 

"Mr. Barnes, if you insist on harassing your boyfriend in my class I'll have to ask you to leave," Wanda turned to him, her eyes a darker shade as she tilted her head to the side in warning.

The blonde guy, Steve, winked over top of the professor's head and Leo couldn't help but snort, earning her a grin from his boyfriend as Wanda continued to give instructions to the class. 

"I can't draw a goddamn thing," the blue eyed boy leaned over the aisle to whisper. "Can't resist a good show, though." 

Leo's face flared up at his cheekiness, but she gave him a shy smile, opening her mouth to respond before a husky voice over her shoulder interrupted them. 

"James, I am fully aware why you are in my class," Wanda remarked with amusement. "But please refrain from spreading the distraction to your classmates." 

She stepped around in between them and gazed at Leo, who caught the professor's eyes drift over her frame quickly. 

James chuckled, picking up a brush which encouraged Leo to hurry to do the same. 

"That's fine, Maximoff," James grinned as he licked his lips, leaning forward over the canvas. "I don't think Stevie is the type for Dimples anyway." 

A perfectly arched brow raised in Leo's direction and the girl wished she could just evaporate then and there.

With eyes slightly wide in panic, Leo dipped her head and scrambled around on her small equipment table for the carmine red pencil she preferred for sketching out forms, her paintbrush still in her other hand.

Wanda continued to watch as Leo fixed her gaze on Steve, tilting her head slightly this way and that, before raising a slightly trembling hand and lightly drawing in the rectangles that would eventually become a person.

Wanda nodded her approval.  “Mmmm, good start…”

“Leonor, I mean, Leo. I’m Leo,” she stammered, feeling completely flustered.

A soft smile appeared on Wanda's lips as she nodded once, "great start, Leo" 

Her name rolled perfectly off the professor's tongue as she rounded the easel and started making her way around the classroom. Leo's hand continued the sketch work as her dark eyes followed Wanda's movements, unable to take her concentration back. 

Leo sketched and erased, moving around the boxes into different positions, settling on a mid-waist up portrait of a figure. She traced in the sharp curve of a jaw, rounded out the tip of the nose and finally spaces for the piercing eyes that were now stuck in her head. 

Satisfied with her sketches, she picked up a small brush and dipped it into the water, moving to mix a bit of red with yellow and white to make the resemblance of a skin tone. As she worked, the rest of the murmurs and business of the classroom seemed to fade into the background, the only thing playing in her head was the sound of Wanda instructing another student a few feet away.

The sun pressed down on her brow line and neck, tiny droplets of sweat beading against her skin and trickling down beneath the fabric of her shirt. She slowly pulled her brush in long, smooth curving motions, tracing the gentle lines with color. 

"It's beautiful," Wanda stood behind her. She had snuck up on Leo and her breath fanned over her hot skin making her nerves tickle. Her hand came up, fingers dipping against the curtain of Leo's hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. "But you seem to have missed the lesson, Leo." 

"I-" she opened her mouth, her focus pulling from the way Wanda's fingers felt against her neck, lingering there driving her nuts and looked at the painting before her. 

The sultry, smooth image of Wanda Maximoff stared back at her. Leo chewed down on her lip short of breaking the skin and whined under her breath.

Her gaze fell to her hands as she picked at the paint drying up on her fingers, heat pooling at her cheeks in embarrassment. 

She was unsure of how to turn back to apologize to her professor, hell she wasn’t even sure how she ended up painting a portrait of her. Her hands just seemed to work on the only thing that hadn’t disappeared from the room in her mind. 

The feel of a soft, warm finger curling under her chin broke her away from her thoughts as Wanda lifted her chin up to look at her. 

“Where’d you go there, Leonor?” she purred, “I’m quite flattered that I served of some inspiration. I did say it should be your own heart that showed through your work today.” She finished, her eyes sparkling as a tender smile graced her lips.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…well I…oh hell,” Leo stammered.

She bowed her head and bit her lip but somehow found the courage to continue. Raising her head again she looked Wanda straight in the eye. 

“The heart wants what it wants,” she said. “Sometimes we have no other choice but to listen.”

Wanda’s smile widened and the corners of her eyes crinkled delightfully as she let out a hum of satisfaction.

“Don’t rush off,” she said with a wink before turning back to the class.

As the professor wandered off, Leo let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and turned back to the canvas as she decided what to do. She'd gone too far into her work to turn back now, if she was going to get scolded after class, she might as well finish what she started. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was some cheesy pick up line you just gave the ol' prof there," the blue eyed boy quipped from beside her with a smirk, as he smeared different colours onto his canvas. 

Leo cleared her throat, and tried to hide the blush that crept up her neck, as she worked to mix up the perfect green to match Wanda's eyes, "I don't know what your talking about," her eyes drifted over to the boys painting and a giggled bubbled from her chest, "what is that?" 

"Abstract," James shrugged, splattering a royal blue into the middle of a tan circle.

Leo laughed and clapped a hand over mouth when it was a little louder than she intended. She rolled her eyes as she felt a smear of paint across her cheek from the paintbrush still in her hand. She shrugged and left it, looking up only to get caught in Wanda’s gaze. 

Wanda was staring at her from across the room, a slightly calculating grin on her face. Leo shivered as her professor began speaking, continuing the lesson.

She spent the rest of the morning sweating in the hot sun as she finished her painting. She had subconsciously strayed far from the lesson and found herself mixing the perfect shade of green. She filled in the rough sketches, heat burning through her knowing that her professor would see them. 

As the green flooded the page, it brought to life the painting of her demanding, lustful eyes and a naughty sense of pride licked at Leo's skin. 

"I will see you all back here on Tuesday," Wanda's honey voice echoed through the class and Leo finally looked up as everyone started to pack their things and leave. 

She pushed the tip of her paintbrush between her teeth, her eyes flickering over Steve slipping back into his robe and back toward where the professor spoke to another student. She cleaned her brushes in the sink, mindlessly watching as the green swirled around down the drain. 

"Interesting," Wanda said from behind her, a hand tucked under her elbow as she brushed her bottom lip in thought with the other. "I'd like to see you privately," Wanda said, "do you have time later today?"

"I have class until nine thirty tonight," Leo left the paintbrushes in the sink and untied the apron from her neck, laying it over the stool as she came closer. "Is that too late?" She asked, nervous for what the privacy may entail. 

"No," Wanda finally tore her eyes from the painting and raked them over Leo, "that's perfect."  Wanda walked toward the back door, "leave that," she pointed to the painting of herself, her eyes dancing between Leo and the work she had created.

There had always been something about the campus at night that felt like magic to Leo. The quiet halls, echoing laughs and the feeling that maybe she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

As she journeyed through the art department now, a little past nine, that feeling was amped up to a hundred. The nervous flutter in her stomach doubling as she neared the classroom her professor was waiting in. 

Warm light flooded the otherwise dark hallway from the pane of glass in the door, a singular shadow cast as Wanda moved inside. 

“You won’t know unless you go in there,” Leo muttered to herself, thankful for the empty hall as she fixed her hair in the darkened reflection of an empty classroom window. 

With a deep breath she forged on, stopping abruptly outside, and knocked before she could change her mind.

It took a moment, longer than Leo’s nerves would have liked, but the door finally opened.  Leo swallowed thickly at the sight of Wanda, who had changed into long flowing trousers in soft pink, a white silken tank top, and her golden locks were now secured into a messy topknot with what looked to be a paintbrush.  This was more like the art professor Leo had expected to see this morning.

“Leo, thank you for returning. Please, won’t you come in?” Wanda smiled softly and opened the door a little wider giving Leo just enough room to squeeze past.

Leo had no choice but to brush up against Wanda as she sidled into the classroom and the heady scent of her perfume wrapped around Leo like a blanket.  She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted over Wanda’s figure and she groaned internally, or so she hoped, when she realised that the professor wasn’t wearing a bra.

As she tried to catch her breath, Leo turned her back to the professor and walked further into the classroom, closing her eyes for just a moment to centre herself. The electricity running through her nerves was almost too much and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

"Okay, before you say anything, I'm sorry again for not drawing the model as instructed, I don't know what happened, I just -" Leo's words were cut off by the playful smirk that danced onto Wanda's lips as she lifted her head, hushing Leo's stammering in the process. 

"That's not why I asked you to come back, Leo," Wanda cooed, taking a few steps towards her and helping her slide the backpack off her shoulder, dropping it to the floor, "and do not apologize to me again or we'll have to find something to do about it," she spoke in an almost warning way, the smile dropping from her face. 

It felt as though Leo's heart had stopped all together, feeling the heat under her skin as Wanda's fingers brushed her bare arm while taking her bag off. This was not what she had been expecting. 

"I just wanted to give you some one on one time, to go over your technique and pass on some pointers," the corners of her lips upturning once more, as she backed away and walked towards Leo's canvas where her painting still sat.

Leo’s heart tripped, watching her professor float away, coming to a stop behind the stool placed at the easel. 

“Come, Leo,” Wanda ordered softly, gesturing with two fingers. Leo did everything she could to keep her mouth from dropping open as she walked forwards, stumbling over her backpack. She righted herself, a flush high on her cheeks and carefully sat down on the stool. 

She was achingly aware of Wanda behind her, inhaling deeply when her hand came to hover behind her back, just making her shirt graze her skin. 

“I was curious about how you chose to mix your colors, you used more color than most would attempt, yet you achieved a wonderful outcome- look here,” Wanda said, leaning forwards, her chest pressing against Leo’s shoulder as she stretched her arm out, gesturing to the painting.

Leo sucked in a breath through her teeth, resisting the urge to lean into her and inhale her pretty floral perfume. It made her head dizzy as Wanda spoke in the background of her thoughts. 

“Every stroke has purpose, like you’re telling a story in the curves and slopes.” Her voice came through in bursts as Leo admired the flecks of golden in Wanda’s eyes. 

“Are you well?” Wanda’s hand brushed her cheek bringing her back to the present, “you feel warm.”

“I’m okay,” Leo said, fighting the feeling of languid bliss that settled over her from the soft skin of Wanda’s hand. “Was there anything else?” She asked, tearing her gaze away and looking back to the painting. “That you wanted to teach me?” Leo swallowed tightly.

“Well, I suppose that depends on whether you feel like you have more to learn,” Wanda replied softly, “and even then, I can only teach you so much.”

Wanda’s lips twitched, a soft tug of her pink lips that had Leo floundering, her gaze locked on Wanda’s mouth. 

“Well I— I don’t really have much experience with life models. It’s why I took your class but—“ 

“It’s not about experience, Leo. It’s about appreciation. Seeing art in a body and interpreting it with paint is one thing, appreciating the way we’re formed and bringing it to life on the page, well…” 

Wanda’s gaze drifted to the canvas, to her own body and Leo felt her cheeks warm. Her skin prickled as Wanda’s fingers slid along her forearm, wrapping delicately at her wrist as she guided Leo from the stool. 

“Follow me, I have an exercise you might enjoy.”

Leo tried to shake away the tainted thoughts running through her mind as they made their way towards the center of the room. The small distance seeming like it was a thousand miles away as she felt her pulse grow quicker, certain that her professor could feel the quickened pace against her fingers.

A big white canvas sheet was draped across the center stage. Wanda stopped them just short of stepping onto it, turning towards her as she let go of her hand. 

"Sometimes, we need to be in order to fully understand how to best capture the essence of what you're trying to portray through your work," she smiled as her eyes danced along Leo's figure, "if you feel comfortable doing so, Leonor, I would like you to be art for a moment, pose for me."

For just a moment, she thought she might pass out from the fire that ignited throughout her. Surely that part of the statement was just in her imagination. Her breath was caught as she looked up to meet Wanda's sultry green eyes, "W-what?" Leo stammered. 

The soft smirk remained on the professor's lips as she tilted her head and raised her eyebrow, "We've spent so much time talking about how this is about the appreciation of the human form, and what better way to teach that to you than to... appreciate what's right in front of me, if that's okay with you."

Leo nodded slowly at her words, and turned to step up onto the canvas but was stopped as Wanda's finger hooked into the belt loop of her light jeans, her thumb grazing the sliver of her belly between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt. 

"Leo," her name rolled out of Wanda's lips so perfectly, "You are covered in far too much fabric to step onto that stage," the corners of her mouth pulled up, "besides, we wouldn't want to get your beautiful outfit all covered in paint, now would we?"

Leo gulped audibly, swallowing hard as she shook her head, lifting slightly shaking hands to her jeans button. She slid it free, pulling down the zipper too, then bit her lip as she nodded to her professor. 

Wanda smiled, eyes fixed on Leo’s lower lip before meeting her eyes as she slid her hands into Leo’s jeans, pushing them down from the inside. She bent down fluidly as she did, ending up half squatting half kneeling at Leo’s feet. 

Wanda carefully helped her step out of her jeans, sliding her hands back up Leo’s thighs, ghosting over the lace of her panties before smoothing up her sides, helping her to lift her arms and take her shirt off easily. She dropped it to the floor on top of her jeans, holding a hand out for Leo to take and step up onto the stage.

She helped Leo lower to the canvas on the floor, moving slowly Wanda took her time positioning each arm. Running her fingers down her skin as she went before moving to her legs. Wanda’s hand skimmed the underside of her calf, lifting her leg and bending her knee. She was laying on her back with one leg bend, her foot planted on the canvas and the other extended fully. 

“Softer than I imagined,” Wanda cooed as she ran her palm across Leo’s taught stomach. Her fingers dancing dangerously against the lacy fabric of her underwear. She moved higher, tucking one of Leo’s hands behind her head, and fixing her hair before standing back. 

“Not quite, my favourite art is the expression of self love. Touch is so important,” the soft words dripped from the professors pouty bottom lip as she knelt again, moving Leo’s other hand to tuck into the strap of her bra against her skin. 

Wanda tugged a paintbrush from her hair, long golden locks poured down around her sharp face and bounced against her shoulders. Leo fought to control the whine that threatened to escape her lips as she watched her through thick, hazy lashes. 

“A little lower,” Wanda pointed a brush to the hand tucked between her strap, lighting reflecting in her green eyes playfully as Leo listened. “Good girl,” she smirked as Leo’s hand dipped into the lace and palmed herself. “Perfect, don’t move, do you understand?” She asked and Leo gave her a soft nod.

Leo closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, listening to the sounds of Wanda flitting about the room. She heard her come closer humming a soft tune to herself as she placed what sounded like paint bottles down on the floor. Butterflies swarmed in Leo's stomach at the feeling of Wanda's warmth beside her once more. 

"Are you feeling alright, Leo?" Wanda asked, as she unscrewed the bottles. Leo nodded as her eyes fluttered open and drifted towards her voice. She saw her smile out of the corner of her eye before she spoke, "I need to hear you say it, Leonor."

“Yes, I’m alright, I’m good,” she breathed, nodding again.

“Darling I’m going to have to ask you to stay still.  If you keep nodding your head like that you’re going to spoil the beautiful lines your hair is making on the canvas, and we can’t have that now, can we?” Wanda purred, squeezing some paint into trays.

Leo began to shake her head but then paused and whispered “no, sorry.”

“Perfect, you’re just perfect for me,” Wanda smiled, encouraging and sweet, but there was a inferno burning behind her eyes that caressed Leo’s form with a scalding intensity.

Every breath that Leo took trembled more than the last with the anticipation of what she hoped was to come.

Her mind was foggy and full of every thought and emotion as they bubbled to the surface through each word that dripped from her professor's lips. Of all of the ways Leonor had thought this meeting was going to go, this had definitely not entered her mind. At least not that she was going to let on. The fact that Wanda's piercing green stare had been ingrained in her mind with her rolling cooed voice all day was something she was trying to keep in her own thoughts, but with every movement Wanda made, it made it harder and harder to contain herself. 

"Close your eyes for me, Leo," Wanda leaned over her and whispered, fingers brushing delicately at a piece of hair that had fallen against her bare collarbone. 

Leo followed the command, fluttering her eyes closed as she drew in another breath. 

"Good," Wanda cooed, "Now remember what I said earlier, about every curve having a meaning that needs to be captured.. As we go through this exercise, I want you to feel that, okay? Allow every feeling and emotion to surface..." her voice quieted and Leo felt the trailings of a wet paint brush tracing along the canvas from her ribs to her hips.

“I- Ohhh,” Leo trailed off in a hushed gasp as Wanda guided the brush in a swirl on her calf, the paint cool and creamy, gliding along effortlessly. 

“Very important now, Leonor, do you want to continue the lesson?” Wanda asked smoothly, meeting Leo’s heavy gaze when she blinked her eyes open. 

“Yes Professor,” she said breathily, exhaling shakily as Wanda continued the trail of her paintbrush up Leo’s thigh all the way to her panties before stopping. 

She couldn’t hold back a whine now, slipping through her lips and making Wanda’s eyes darken. 

“Good, that’s exactly right Leo, feel everything.”

The cold wet paint dripped down, leaving a damp trail over her skin and pooling beneath her ass between the canvas. She inhaled another shaky breath as Wanda dragged that same line up across her stomach. "List your emotions," Wanda's voice was warm and it settled over her like a blanket.

"Nervous," Leo's bottom lip trembled. 

Wanda dipped the brush into more paint but this time she dropped a few drops in her palm and rubbed it between her fingers as she watched Leonor struggle with her words.

"Excited," she breathed out.

Wanda smiled, running her tongue along her teeth and used two of her painted fingers to draw a line slowly down Leo's throat. The feeling of her hands, cold and careful, running down her skin while Wanda hovered so close to her lips caused her body to clench and her hips to lift from the canvas. Wanda's eyes flicked down at the movement and then back to Leo's with a scolding scowl to her perfectly pouted lips. 

"Sorry Professor," Leo apologized, but the words came out a teasing whine.

Wanda continued her journey with her fingers, lower across her décolletage — a cool sharpness over the prickly heat of her skin. 

Lower still, Wanda travelled. Between the valley of Leo’s breasts, paint dripping dangerously close the the black lace of her bra. 

“Do you mind?” Wanda questioned, her green eyes darkened, shadowed and hazy like the deepest forests. 

Leo shook her head, voice lost to the want. The want to please Wanda, to feel her paint slicked fingers anywhere she desired. 

She arched from the canvas as her professor worked the clasp of her bra open, cool air pebbling her nipples as soon as they were freed. 

“You’re beautiful,” Wanda purred, and Leo whined, her lip between her teeth as the other woman soaked up the sight before her. 

Wanda brought a hand to Leo's bent leg, lowering it further onto the canvas slowly spreading her legs open as she settled herself on her knees between them. 

She smiled down at Leo as she leaned forward wrapping her fingers around her wrists and pushing her hands above her head. Wanda's chest rose and fell against Leo's and she relished in the feel of her clothed breasts brushing against hers, letting her eyes fall closed. 

The tip of Wanda's nose brushed against hers, hot breath fanning against her lips as her professor's hands began trailing back down her arms. 

"Open your eyes for me Leo," she whispered lips just missing hers as they moved, "I want you to watch me appreciating your body."

Barely missing the paint marking the column of her throat, Wanda ghosted her lips over Leo’s skin, her breath raising goosebumps despite its warmth. Reaching Leo’s right breast, Wanda paused, rolling her eyes up to take in the expression of desire on Leo’s face as her eyelids fluttered with anticipation.

Leo whined once more, which turned into a gasp as Wanda traced around her areola with just the very top of her tongue, gently teasing, with hardly any pressure at all.  The circles became smaller, tighter, until Wanda’s tongue was circling Leo’s pebbled nipple but not touching. Leo ached for more and almost bucked up from the canvas once more but managed to contain herself.

Wanda chuckled huskily at the feel of Leo trembling beneath her.

“Well done.” She whispered, taking Leo’s nipple into the warmth of her mouth and sucking gently.

Leo's tongue swiped her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth to stifle a moan. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire, the coolness of the wet paint only making it worse. Wanda's lips continued trailing down her stomach, followed closely by the wet paintbrush, soft green marks appearing on every curve and ridge that her torso held. 

"Tell me what you want, Leo," Wanda murmured into her skin as her lips skated across the hem of her lace panties, "right now, in this moment, what do you crave?" 

The paint brush moved to dance around her inner thigh, Wanda's hot breath dangerously close to her centre. Leo felt like her brain was malfunctioning and she whined in response, craving the touch of her beautiful art professor. 

"You," she finally rasped, "I want you, Professor"

Wanda smiled, a twisted playful smile that drove Leo to insanity. She tucked her fingers into a pot of blue paint. Pressing it against the palms of her hands before dipping into the band of the lacy underwear that Leonor wore. 

As she removed them from her hips she left long, soft strands of blue down her thighs and calves. Wanda sat back on her knees, admiring her work before coming back, pressing at Leo’s stomach and dipping her head between her legs. 

Blue finger prints maimed her olive skin as Wanda’s tongue swiped between her drenched folds. Leo bucked from the sudden, sweet sensation and Wanda pushed her back down as she worked relentlessly at her clit.

Encouraged by the moans and whimpers that Leo could no longer control, Wanda ran her tongue lower, deeper, laving along Leo’s slick pussy. Leo tightened her thighs against Wanda’s head, she couldn’t help it, but Wanda gently pushed them apart again, leaving two very obvious blue handprints behind, the most intimate of picture frames.

Leo cried out as she felt Wanda’s tongue stiffen and then push into her aching cunt, fucking her slowly but relentlessly, allowing the pressure to build until finally, as if she could read Leo’s mind, she swept her tongue back up to her clit wrapping her lips around it and and sucking hard as Leo came undone in a glorious moan of pleasure.

Wanda continued working her through her orgasm, relishing in the sweet sounds that filled the classroom. Leo's mind was dizzy with pleasure as she came down from her high, but she knew deep within herself that they were not even close to being done. 

"Wanda," Leo breathed, confidence rising as she reached down and cupped her professor's cheek, pulling her face up to look at her, "please, please let me show you how fast of a learner I am" 

A deep chuckle left Wanda's chest as she sat back slowly and peeled off her white tank top, doing her best not to get any more paint on it then necessary. Leo sat up on her elbows and watched the site before her, drinking in every inch of Wanda's now exposed breasts as she tried to catch her breath. 

When Wanda stood to remove her trousers, Leo scrambled onto her knees in front of her lightly grasping her hands, "let me... please" She whispered, looking up at the blonde through heavy lashes. With a soft nod of approval, Leo hooked her fingers into Wanda's pants and the hem of her underwear, pulling them down together.

From her knees Leonor was given the most wonderous view. Her hands raked around and up Wanda's smooth, strong calves and over the swell of her ass. She kissed her mouth over every inch of skin, licking and nibbling at the fleshy inners of her thighs as she reached Wanda's core. Leo's eyes flickered up as Wanda practically dripped down her hand. 

"So wet already," Leo purred against her skin. 

Wanda raked her paint fingers across her jaw and around her throat lifting Leo's chin to really look at her, "I've been waiting all day," she brushed a thumb over Leo's bottom lip, "walking around soaked just thinking about you." 

The confession drove Leo nuts, dipping between her thighs without another word and lapping the sweet taste of Wanda onto her tongue as she lifted her knee and hooked it over her shoulder. She pressed her fingers deeper into her skin, dragging a sweet moan from Wanda's red lips as she supported her weight and ate her out without remorse.

Leonor began circling her clit slowly with the tip of her tongue, almost teasing her seeing just how far she could push her professor. Wanda moaned in protest and dug her fingers into Leonor’s hair, lacing her fingers in between her soft brown locks and pulled her head slightly back green rimmed blown out pupils staring down at as her chest heaved. 

Leo looked up at her through her lashes and smiled innocently, “is everything alright, professor?” 

Wanda raised a brow and tugged a bit tighter on her hair causing Leo to gasp in pleasure, “don’t be a tease Leonor, don’t make me punish you.” 

She felt herself grow wetter at the thought of what more Wanda could do to her. Leo bit her lip and ran a finger through her wet folds, teasing her entrance as she moved her face forward once again, “May I?”

Upon seeing the brisk nod, Leo attached her lips once more to Wanda’s clit, laving it gently with her tongue as she slipped her finger up inside her.  The whine that spilled from Wanda’s lips only served to encourage Leo and she quickly added a second finger, moving them in the same rhythm as her tongue.

She knew when she had found the right spot inside when Wanda’s grip tightened on her hair and she began to buck her hips against Leo’s mouth, pushing her closer towards her dripping cunt.

“Yes, there, right there,” Wanda gasped as Leo tried to keep pace with her undulating hips.

Wanda keened above her when Leo slipped a third finger into her and the walls of her pussy began to clench.  Leo worked Wanda’s clit as she pumped her fingers in and out, almost having to fight against the grip Wanda had on her head but then the professor stiffened and Leo felt a rush of slick run down her chin as Wanda reached her climax.

Leo worked the professor through her climax, lapping up every ounce of slick she could. She moved her lips to pepper small soft kisses on each hip bone, trailing them up her body as she stood. Making sure to nip at the skin of her breasts and ghost her lips up Wanda's throat, she finally came to a stand nipping at the blonde's ear lobe. 

Placing her hands gently on her hips, Leo guided Wanda, turning her towards the canvas, "lay down... please" she added to not sound like she was commanding her, "I don't think our lesson is quite through," Leo teased. 

Wanda hummed, and brushed her hands into the brunette's hair, trailing her fingers over her collarbone and down her bare arms, "Well I certainly hope not," 

With Leo's help, Wanda settled down on the canvas and allowed Leonor to position her on her back, both arms stretched above her head, with both knees bent and her back slightly arched off the canvas. The brunette stood over her professor, taking in the sight before her and feeling the fire reignite in her belly as she sank to her knees beside her, digging her finger into the red paint and tracing a line up from Wanda's hips to the crevasse between her breasts.

Leo lifted her finger from her chest, a soft whine in protest slipping from Wanda’s lips. With her free hand, she picked up some more paint and spread it around in her palms. With both hands covered in red paint she swung a leg across Wanda’s body, holding on to her waist as she settled atop her lap. She smiled down at her as she cupped her breast tenderly, dipping her head and nuzzling into the curve of her neck. 

Wanda moaned as she began leaving a trail of wet kisses along the side of her neck as she palmed at her breasts. The feel of her professor wiggling and moaning under her only egging her on to kiss down to her collarbone. 

Her professor’s hands came down from above her head to cup her face pulling Leonor upwards, the tips of her noses almost touching. Leonor’s breath hitched in her throat at the soft brushing of her thumb on her cheek as her green eyes looked back at her. Just as she was about to ask her if she had done something wrong, Wanda tilted her chin upwards barely touching her lips to hers. 

“Kiss me Leonor, please.” She breathed, “Let me taste myself on your tongue.”

With a small sigh Leo leaned forwards and closed the gap between them, her eyes rolling back in her head at the soft feel of Wanda’s lips finally pressing against hers.  She opened her mouth slightly, allowing the softest brush of Wanda’s tongue to swipe along her bottom lip but it was Wanda who was the impatient one, pulling Leo’s lip into her mouth and nipping it gently.

The kiss was intoxicating, the taste a heady cocktail of their combined essences with the tiniest hint of paint.  Wanda’s hands tangled in her hair and pulled slightly, the tiny pinpricks of pain only adding to the almost overwhelming sensations. Leo smiled into the kiss not even noticing when her thumb smeared a streak of red paint across Wanda’s cheekbone.

They're mouths continued to move against one another, dancing with their tongues and taking in every inch of each other that they could. The red paint from Wanda's breast, transferring and smearing onto Leonor's as the red and blue mixed on their bodies. 

A soft red handprint found its way onto the side of Wanda's neck, and another planted firmly beside her head as Leo attempted to hold herself up. Her nerves igniting once more as she felt Wanda's hips buck up into her, grazing her sensitive bud and pulling a teasing moan that was swallowed by her lips. 

With one swift movement, Wanda wrapped her arms around Leo and rolled them so she was back on top, rubbing her knee between Leo's legs again, "This is my classroom remember?" She breathed, kissing her once more, and pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth, "I'm in charge"

Leo hummed and ran red paint up Wanda's back, "yes, Professor"

Wanda pressed kisses up and down Leo’s neck, paint smearing against her lips, drawing it down and across her chest, sucking her nipple into her mouth. Her delicate fingers stroked her other breast, massaging it and making moans fall from Leo’s mouth. 

“Please, Wanda, more,” she begged, and Wanda grinned around her tit, tweaking her nipple as she bit down lightly. She pressed her thigh up against Leo’s cunt, wet and slick, sliding against her.

Wanda obliged, ducking her hand between them. Her fingers curled painfully deep into Leo’s wet pussy using the weight of her thigh to fuck Leonor senseless. 

Her head lulled as the moan ripped from her throat and Wanda sucked at her sensitive nipple. “Sing for me,” she cooed, rubbing her clit with her thumb as her fingers scraped against the roof of her cunt. 

“Don’t stop,” Leo begged, and she would continue to do so.

Wanda smiled against Leonor’s chest trailing kisses along her sternum as she pushed her fingers deeper into her center. A string of pleas slipped from Leo’s lips like a song as she continued to work her clit with her thumb. She brought her free hand up, resting it on her throat brushing her lips along the curve of Leo’s jaw. 

“You’re so beautiful when you beg, Leonor.” She purred.

Her sounds echoed out into the studio and she could feel Wanda's smile on her skin. The red and blue paint had smeared between them creating a deep purple, the canvas no longer resembling the outline of Leo's body but looking more like an explosion of colour created by passion and heat. It didn't matter who was left in the school, or what tomorrow would bring. What mattered in Leo's mind, the only thing that was left there, was the beautiful blonde who lay on top of her, bringing out more pleasure than she'd ever felt before. 

"One more, Leo sweetheart," Wanda cooed, dragging her tongue up the side of Leonor's neck and flicking her ear lobe, "I've got you" 

Leo's vision went white as the fire in her belly let go once more, a strike of electricity shooting up her spine as her pleasure overtook every one of her senses. Wanda's name dripped from her lips as a whiney, needy growl that she couldn't control and the vibration of Wanda’s chuckle against her brought her back down from her high.

Leo took a breath, chest heaving slightly as she slowly came down, head spinning. She met Wanda’s green eyes, a smile shining in them as bright as the grin on her face. 

“You did so wonderfully my sweet, I’m so impressed, look at this beautiful work you’ve helped to create. Here, let’s take a look,” Wanda said as she stood fluidly, hands out for Leo to take. 

She did and they stepped back, gazing at the canvas, smeared with paint. The colors mixed and swirled to create a beautiful whorl of a painting.

Leo looked over at Wanda, kissing her paint smeared shoulder, “it’s beautiful,” she turned her head back to the art. 

“You know,” Wanda chuckled, “it would sell for a fortune if they knew how it was made.”

“We can always make more,” Leo teased. 

“Is that an invitation Leonor?” Wanda turned snaking her hand into her hair and tugging her close for a kiss that stole the air from Leo’s lungs. 

“Perhaps it was a challenge,” Wanda teased when Leo said nothing more, pulling away with the click of her teeth. 

Together they hung it dry, and Wanda helped her slip into a pair of paint stained sweats. “I’d like to take you home Leo,” she smiled, helping her tuck her paint stained hair up into a loose ponytail. “We both earned a shower,” she kissed her nose and jaw. 

“Is the shower just a shower?” Leo collected her things and followed Wanda to the door. 

She shut off the light to the studio and turned to Leo with a playful look in her eye. “A shower is never just a shower,” she hummed, linking their hands together.

[deada55]

Kloktober 2024 day 23: as a different genre

Hope y’all like Eastern European Folk Music. I know I sure do.

… it seems like I didn’t think about it but I’m actually obsessed with this AU in particular. I fucking love Eastern European folk. Love it. I was in an ensemble for six years. Ask me about it sometime!

”What fuckin’ weird high school even does that shit?”

“Come on, honey,” sighed his mother. They drove through miles of bright green yards and spring gardens, complete with the occasional capri-clad housewife with a push mower waving at them as they passed. Nathan blew his hair away from his mouth. “Give it a try. It’s supposed to make you more globally conscious. And tolerant, I guess! You know, even for the—“

“You’ll just have to make the best of it!” Oscar spoke over her and slowed down as they turned into the drop-off loop at the new school. “Have a good day, champ. We love you.”

“Ok.”

Nathan got out of the car and followed the crowd into the building. From there, blind luck got him to the front office for his schedule, where he was surrounded by purple and green and the school’s mascot: the Zoot Cats. Huh?

Fortunately, Nathan’s school-assigned cultural exploration elective was at the end of the day this quarter. Unlike the other kids who’ve been there for a while, he didn’t get to pick, and his schedule only had the room number, not the name. Some of the electives were film study groups, book clubs, themed creative writing workshops, even cricket! Still, Nathan passed Spanish in his old school because he… No, he failed Spanish, but cheated off of a guy who spoke Spanish in math.

He showed up at the cultural exploration elective room two minutes behind the bell, and walked into a seminar room with all the furniture pushed up against the cinderblock wall, leaving the other half with five chairs, an instrument that looked like a giant lute with a round back, a guy holding a three-stringed banjo with a triangular body, another guy in a My Little Pony shirt and unwashed fingernails with a ukulele-version of the giant lute, and some wannabe punk at a pile of percussion odds-and-ends, sitting on a drumbox. The gay dude with the triangle guitar was seething and tuning the ukul-luté.

“Oh, hey. You, uh, joining us?” The punk’s wild red hair didn’t even move when he stood up, not from product but from its own thick, coarse texture. He stepped forward to greet Nathan at the door.

“Oh, wow!” A fat kid with a grease-stained shirt wiggled his way out from under a table in the back of the room. “They gave the stupid new kid to the Russian Music Ensemble. Great. Now we’re going to sound fucking awesome.”

“Shut up, he knows Accordions,” said the blonde fruit who was white-knuckled with obsession as he tuned two strings to E with as much perfection as possible for a souvenir instrument from the Soviet Union. He shoved the instrument back in his co-string’s hands and stood up to pull a battered red resin accordion out from behind small percussion mountain. “I arranged your parts. I hopes you don’t needs them written down. It sounds like-“

”It sounds like this!” The MLP guy used his disgusting fingernails to sloppily claw-hammer the triangle-thing through a tangle of chords.

“No-“ Just like that, he was completely distracted and arguing with the MLP guy.

”Uh…” Nathan looked around for an empty chair, then started looking at the door.

The redhead piped up. “Hold on, uh, I’m Pickles, and that’s uh…” The blonde guy was Skwisgaar, playing the prima domra, he was yelling at Toki, prima balalaika, and Murderface was tuning the bigger instrument, the bass domra, with a scowl. “It’sch William, dickweed.”

“And, so… Let’s just show him what we do, guys. You’ll recognize this one. Kalinka.” The band all exchanged nods and sat up straighter (except for William, but whatever.)

Pickles raised a tambourine to count off, then Skwisgaar and Toki furiously strummed a chord in a fast, hard crescendo. The timing was hinkey from that point on, but Pickles lead with his voice, high and strong.

“Кааааааааалинка, калинка, калинка моя—“

They chopped through the song, then attempted to accelerando together and ended up a mess until Pickles burst through with a long hold that modulated down. Then, there was a collective breath,

“Ах, под сосною, под зеленою,”

The strings plodded along lightly, with flourishes from Skwisgaar undermining Pickles. Murderface’s plodding was steady and depressive. Toki’s strumming got more and more sluggish as the verse went on, until it concluded in one more big buzz from Skwisgaar and Toki together.

”Кааааааа—“

”Schmoke break!” Murderface shouted. He let his domra all but hit the floor.

”Really!? Right now? Murderface,”

”Come ons! Wes got to practice!”

”Moidaface! Butts the juuleses is for fools!”

“Uh…” Nathan droned. “I don’t actually know how to play the accordion.”

[the-graves-family]

No. 2: Trust issues

Adam doesn’t know why he’d agreed to this. A hike with his love had sounded great when it’d been brought up at dinner a few days ago, but he hadn’t realized they’d be hiking through a forest.

A forest of beech, and ash and maples.

It’s daytime, it’s nothing like that night, but Adam feels more unsteady with each step he takes. Every rustle of leaves behind him makes him flinch a little, curling his shoulders further and further. He’s expecting the cabin to appear from amidst the trees at any moment, dark and imposing. Thinking himself above trauma doesn’t actually mean he is. He feels vulnerable and exposed and like he’s seventeen again, writhing on the ground, bleeding from his head, the moon peeking behind the thick canopy above him as his brother reaches down.

“Churri, what’s wrong? You look—”

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and Adam flinches hard, stumbling away from the presence behind him, falling on his ass as he trips on a tangle of roots. It’s not him, it’s not him. There’s no reason for his heart to be beating out of his chest, no reason for quiet whimpers, no reason at all.

The sun is shining brightly, the wind is warm and gentle. The cabin is hundreds of miles away, along with all the people inside it. The ones who abandoned him. Everything is okay, they can’t hurt him. He has to remind himself of that, and for a moment he feels pathetic. He should be past this.

Adam regrets everything as soon as he looks up, because David looks hurt. Hand still in the air where he’d laid it on his finacé’s shoulder.

They’ve never talked about it, not in detail. David knows he has a brother, and that they hadn’t parted on good terms. The details are vague, but the man isn’t dumb. Adam’s break from his family had been anything but pleasant. It’s in the way he shies away from touch, in the way he looks scared whenever he’s out of his workshop. He looks hunted anytime they’re out in public.

And Adam’s sure he looks hunted now, arms hurting from the fall, dirt and dead leaves staining his palms.

He’s hurt him. Even without meaning to.

“I’m—” He bites down on his apology and looks away, at the gnarled roots that had caused his fall. It won’t help. David is hurt, and he can guess why. Even after all their time together, all their love, all the work they’ve put into this relationship, Adam can’t help but to see someone else sometimes. It’s unfair. To the both of them.

“No, I’m sorry.”

That’s not right, David shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It doesn’t feel right, Adam is the one with an issue. He starts shaking his head, but suddenly his vision is filled with red plaid as strong arms wrap around him. David is a giant of a man, easily getting him back on his feet without ever letting go of him.

Adam melts into the hug. He’s not going to cry, that’d be ridiculous. But he soaks up the warmth and comfort his love provides.

“Let’s head home,” David murmurs into his hair, and Adam can’t help but to nod. Home, away from these memories that won’t leave him even in the daylight.

Walking back through the trail, hands clasped together in a risky display of affection, Adam looks back at the forest. No one stares back, the leaves aren’t slick with blood. But he still feels like something is hunting him.

Slowly. Methodically. Tirelessly.

Something is coming for him, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to outrun it forever.

[dear-wonderland]

Chapter 1

‘Is this love?’

Kenji Kishimoto x reader

<this takes place before shatter me>

<Contains some cussing><just in case someone needs it… (y/n); your name, (l/n) last name>

Your the adopted daughter of the Supreme Commander Anderson, you were brought in at a young age due to your intelligence when it came to tinkering with machines. Now you are know as Aaron's right hand, someone to be feared, creating all sorts of weapons for the Reestablishment, over time you have learned to keep your emotions in check and hardly ever smile... but what happens when an annoyingly cute new soldier is constantly trying to get your attention? Will your emotions start to spark again? Or will this mess of a world shatter your love story until it becomes nothing but a lost dream. Only time will tell.

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

I didn’t know what time it was or how long I had been down here and honestly I didn’t care.

I was mindlessly tinkering with whatever I could find trying to cure my boredom, lately that seems like all I do, wake up, eat, work, and sleep, it feels like my life is constantly repeating itself, nothing ever changes, I feel like I’m slowly losing my god damn mind…

With a sigh I put down my equipment as I look at the Ak-47 I was building, I get up from my seat as I stretch looking at my surroundings, I was currently in my workshop, a giant room located under the main building in sector 45.

I take a quick look at my many projects, from pistols to tanks I have fixed and improved them all, of course I’m not the only person working in this section, but I am the one who fixes the things that no one else can, in other words I am irreplaceable to this sector, something I have worked my ass off to accomplish, Anderson might have taken me in but that doesn’t mean I got any special treatment I know damn well if I am to fail at my job I won’t go unpunished, that man has always been good at keeping everyone in there place.

I am quickly snapped out of my thoughts when I hear knocking at the door

“come in!” I say,

a soldier steps into the room

“good afternoon Miss (l/n)” the soldier gives a quick bow as a sign of respect

“Is there something you need?” I ask, the soldier was quick to answer my question,

“Sir Warner has called for you”

“has he now… for what purpose?”

“to welcome the new recruits Miss, he wants you to be ready in 8 hours”

this answer surprised me, I didn’t expect to welcome recruits so soon after the last bunch,

“very well, tell him I’ll be there”

the soldier gave one last bow as he left the room, it was quiet for a while before I decided to go to my private chambers, ‘I should probably prepare…’

—————————

After a shower I dressed into elegant clothes, just like Aaron I enjoyed looking presentable, especially when it came to important matters, I tidied up my hair as I gave myself one last look in the mirror.

After assuring myself that everything was in place I walk towards the location in which the assembly is taking place, I spotted Aaron waiting for me in the hall, once I approached him he gave me a small nod and walked into the auditorium, i quickly followed behind him.

I looked around the room towards the thousands of men, Aaron quickly found his place in front of the podium as I took my place next to him.

While he started to give his welcome speech I took the opportunity to give a closer look at the soldiers trying my best to memorize all the new faces, none of the soldiers where looking at me all to focused on the speech my brother was giving,

that was until i made eye contact with one particular man catching me a bit off guard, the man had a defined jawline and eyes as pitch-black as his hair,

for a second i wasn’t quite sure how to react so i sort of just froze, the man noticed this and i realized that he started smirking at my reaction, this pissed me off, ‘just who does this guy think he is?’,

a threw him a glare, there was no way I was going to let this guy look so damn smug for absolutely no apparent reason, unfortunately he didn’t look to intimidated by my stare and his smile only grew bigger, ‘fuck this guy!’

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

Finally chapter 1 is out! I’ll try and make the next chapters a little longer but first I wanted to get the introduction out of the way!

<Just a little note! Reader is older then Aaron (you can decide by how much I won’t specify a number) I just wanted to make her closer to Kenji’s age who if i recall correctly is 20.>

[emmyfairy]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write some head-cannons about giving the slashers the silent treatment for Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Billy & Stu, Vincent Sinclair

Thank you!!!

Requested

Hi I’m Em and I am in love with Vincent Sinclair (i’m imagining all ya’ll saying ‘hi em’)

reblog if you enjoy! any other ideas?

Uh oh, big boys are in the dog house. What are they like when their lovely gives them the silent treatment? 

Bubba

As soon as you skip your usual “Good Morning” he’s in tears

Once you step out of the bathroom, fresh faced and ready for a day of ignoring your man, he’s in your personal space, whining and crying, a fistful of wildflowers gripped tightly in his hand, roots still shaking dirt onto the floor

You'd have to clean that up so….

Honestly, just take the flowers and forgive him sweetie, he’s just gonna cry and whinge until you do, and no he won't admit he did anything wrong because he doesn't care

Not in a bad way, but your anger is too distracting for him to remember properly 

Thomas

Notices right away

Is worried right away

He’s so used to and in love with your babbling, nodding his head along with you, so when it’s sudden radio silence, when all of a sudden you won't even look at him? Instant heartbreak

Did he do something? Say something? Did someone else? Don’t you love him anymore?

It hasn't even been an entire day and you have this 6’5 hulking giant of a man literally at your feet

Im serious, after a few hours he can't stand it, bails on his chores, finds you and immediately drops to his knees, hugging your legs and burying his face in your tummy

He only peels himself away when he feels your hand start running through his hair (i've decided no one can stay mad at him he’s too soft)

After you coax him off of his knees the two of you have an open conversation and communicate your feelings in a healthy way, solving all the problems and boom sunshine and rainbows baby

Billy & Stu

We all know these two share a brain cell, and once ya’ll are together its split amongst you three

They do NOT catch onto your mood for a whileee

Honestly it’s probably one of your friends, or even your mom, that clues them in

They’re used to you being a bit on the quiet side, heaven knows the pair can entertain each other for hours with dumb boy stuff, and they spend their nights, well, ya’know…

When they do realize your unhappiness and silence these boys go the wallet route

Im talking flowers, chocolate, nice dinner, shoes, that outfit you were eyeing at the mall last week, and more flowers

You do eventually forgive them, but they honestly aren't much wiser afterwards

Vincent

Ngl he doesn't notice at first, not in a bad way, it’s just he gets so invested in his art

There are many nights he stays in his workshop, meddling away at his latest project, often skipping meals unless you bring them to him

I love this man okay, but baby can be a little bit of an airhead at times

Bo and Lester have both noticed by now and let’s just say dinner time is Awkward✨ 

By now Vinny is catching onto your cold shoulder 

Good thing he wears that mask because if you could see the pout on his lil face? All anger would be gone with the wind

Vince doesn’t really know what to do, his brothers sure as hell aren't helpful, so he does the only thing he can think of

Art, art and groveling 

He sketches a portrait of you, far too well done to be a quick one, and it almost encaptures how gorgeous he thinks you are

Once the sketch is in your hands, he’s slipping into bed with you, not bothering to move the covers, just smooshing against you, every inch of him on every inch of you, holding you close

When you look down to where he is parasitically attached to your chest, his eye is shining so sadly, there is no way you could stay mad at him

He’s just too cute, sorry I don't make the rules

[fruityfroggy]

I genuinely can't tell if this is good anymore. But I spent so long on it, maybe some feedback on this wonky one shot ficthing could help T-T

Am I...Doing This Right?

OC X CANON WARNING (you have been warned)

Pairing: Dikke x Verdigris

Word count: 764

A/N: Dikke's anecdote did things to my brain chemistry, so I have instantly been distracted from the fic I was working on (as well as the fic I was going to write before finishing said fic cuz I got distracted by that before this). What else is new, right? This is the fruity blob of nonsense we're talking about, ofc it ended up this way. Anyways, this fic may not be as juicy as the last one, but we’re making do. Awkward lesbians is sorta the vibe I was going for. Hope I did okay on that.

The wind blew swift and sharp that evening, causing the loose strands of Verdigris' hair to whip around with it. She was getting a breath of fresh air after hours of sitting and working in her workshop. A small walk would do her good, and she knew it.

By the distant trees, a figure stood tall and slender. Pale white hair cascaded down her dark cape, wavering in the wind like rippling water. It seems that Dikke was out here as well.

It wasn't uncommon to see her outside at night, but this time around, daylight hadn't even left the sky yet. Curious, Verdigris walked over to her, careful not to disrupt the judge’s pondering as she stepped beside her.

Despite her efforts, Dikke seemed to notice her fairly quickly, turning her head just slightly to glance in her direction. “Good evening,” she greeted her with a slight smile. But a distant look was in her eyes, suggesting that her mind was still elsewhere.

Verdigris had noticed this, but she greeted her back and looked into the distance for a while, trying to keep it off her mind. But she couldn’t. It felt a bit nosy to ask such a question, but Verdigris just had to know.

“You seem a bit…troubled today. Is there something bothering you?” A look of worry softly spread across her gentle features, as she carefully glanced up at her.

“Perhaps…but ‘tis not of thy concern. Worry not about my troubles, Verdigris.” Dikke looked away for a moment, the front two strands of her hair blew almost mesmerizingly in the air, forcing Verdigris to look away as well.

Before she could reply though, a giant gust of wind cut her off suddenly; even colder and sharper against her skin than before. Maybe she should've worn a little more overtop before heading out. But it was a little too late at the moment.

As sudden as the wind had hit her, a warmth wrapped firmly around her shoulders in response, pulling Verdigris out of her thoughts. "Thou should wear more in weather like this. Such neglect of thy health shall do nothing but harm to thee..." Those words may sound a bit harsh on paper, but Dikke's voice sounded warmer than most would expect. Glancing up at her again, Verdigris finally processed what had happened. The warmth around her was the cape of a certain judge beside her.

Maybe that cape was thicker than it looked, or maybe it was the heat that quickly rose to her cheeks from the situation. Either way, Verdigris didn't seem to feel the chilly air anymore in that moment. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

Dikke's gaze shifted around a bit, unsure where to look, now that they’re standing this close to each other. Despite that, she still reached a shaky hand over to Verdigris and placed it gingerly on her waist, pulling her a little closer. Why she did any of this was unbeknownst to her. What started off as an impulsive act of protectiveness, quickly became more forward than intended, and the flowery language needed to resolve such a situation just doesn’t come naturally to her. What has she gotten herself into? Things weren’t supposed to unfold this way.

Without even realizing, a lengthy silence had dragged out between them. All they could do was feel their breaths quickening, as their sides pressed together warmly. “Thank you…for the kind gesture” Verdigris finally managed to push out. “…No need” the much taller arcanist replied, still struggling to make eye contact.

Fine, since they were at this point already, Dikke might as well take a risk. Risks weren't new to her at all. But unplanned risks...unplanned risks..like this, why were they so hard? Slowly, she took the inventor's hand in hers, feeling its coldness against her skin. Her thumb grazed the back of her hand so carefully, it was as if she was going to break it if she wasn’t careful enough. She glanced down to check Verdigris' reaction, watching her gaze as it shifts towards her hand, then back up to meet her eyes. Verdigris...such a sight for sore eyes that it aches elsewhere...

Something different danced across Dikke's icy blue eyes, accompanied by a slight, warmer hue. A soft smile pulled at both their lips as they looked at each other for a little longer than they should.

"What's on your mind now?"

“…Thee…’twas thee from the start…thou who occupies my thoughts…”

“…! what?…”

“What?”

Maybe things just won’t go as smoothly as they could be…

[mikaharuka]

The Super Mega Word Search Post!

After my Find that Word... 4x (seriously?!) post last week, I figured I'd just sit for several days as the tags added up. And add up those tags did! I was tagged by 7 people over 15 posts for a total of 108 words!

So I simplified it to 3 words/tag... or at least that was the plan, until I noticed that all but four words appeared in one chapter - Azure. And not just that - I counted 43 of the 108 words within Azure alone!

So it turned into a flexing game - sue me lol

(the purple is special - see my reblog for my shame)

@mrsmungus - apartment, arch, autumn, burn, celebrate, christen, clasp, cold, curl, drift, dress, electric, forgot, honest, hover, humid, leave, life, likeness, mountain, never, river, sample, send, shimmer, snack, spiral, splinter, station, stifle, stroke, summer, sunrise/sunset, switch, take

@oceangirl24 - arrangement, behead, bless, breathe, buffet, build, cast, committee, dangerous, discover, draft, dressing, flash, fossil, go, hilarious, information, jealous, marine, merchant, pipe, poison, quantity, reason, second, seminar, sport, steel, undertake, visit, wardrobe, workshop

@tsunderewatermelon - choke, clung, creep, dangle, flick, gaze, gulp, held, hit, lay, moved, poke, prove, scratch, sneak, sick, stare, swung, touch, walk, watch

@alpaca-clouds - annoying, breath, hair, soup, tension

@danceswithdarkspawn - danger, feather, moonlight, relax, touch

@aohendo - assess, hazard, manage, mitigate, risk

@frostedlemonwriter - gross, love, still, tense, yellow

-

Your Words: bloom, current, energy, focus, heat, press, spicy

As for tags... eh, just the seven of you who tagged me. Beyond that, I'll leave the usual open tag for anyone else who is interested in this.

Obvious NSFW warning for Azure by default. The remaining four words are scattered across the other chapters of Apricity, like usual...

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

[From Sapphire-12]

Annoying. Not being able to objectively or clearly describe anything was very annoying.

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

[From Sangria-13]

“Pretty much. As you probably guessed, the government knows of the mystic world. They tried to control and manage that piece of land, but Il Centro quickly stepped in and shut their attempts down.”

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

[From Midnight-14]

Mike took a deep breath and ran his eyes over the vampire’s form, critically assessing his features just as the man was so casually doing to him in turn.

Fucking hell, he really was an idiot. If the instability was related to Beau, then of course mentioning him ran the huge risk of worsening that instability. What a careless mistake.

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

[From Azure-11]

Bears, mountain lions, coyotes, and wolves among others made themselves known, adding themselves to the growing buzz.

Rather than the beaches he had hoped to see, instead lay an open field bathed in the bright moonlight.

They were seated in a circle around a fire by the base of giant cedar, speaking to one another, relaxed in a very intimate way they never were with anyone else. The scarlet aura cast by the leaves above and the cozy breeze brushing against everything like gentle feathers, created a warm and comforting current that swirled about them. Wanting to see what they were doing with the plants in hand, Beau carefully walked around the edge of the clearing.

He tried to move closer, but found himself frozen, held in place by a cool current swirling about him.

The tree line crept into the meadow until all earth, life, and sky was once again overtaken by the dark azure hollow.

The man before him now regarded Beau with relaxed posture, hooded eyes, and an alluring smile, a different sort of hunger painted across his face.

The azure light cast a cool tint onto already pale features, adding a sharp edge to what used to be warm gold eyes and blond hair, leaving behind harsh shadows across his face.

The man pushed off the tree and matched his pace, eyes darkening even further with each predatorial stride forward and each rousing gaze over his form. Beau was still a few yards away when his knees suddenly gave way and the man vanished from sight. 

Within seconds, familiar arms captured him from behind, pulling Beau beneath him, against a form he knew all too well...

Dark gold eyes were far more metallic now, a strange fusion resulting in bright electrum, an almost cool white with a bright yellow tint...

The mere idea only added more fuel into the fire already building deep within him...

'You taste positively divine, lovely boy'

Shocked by the hoarse voice deepened by desire, Beau gasped again, allowing the man to take advantage once more and deepen the kiss.

Beau’s heart pounded even harder as a very familiar lust burned through his body, making him let go and submit to the onslaught, like a puppet with its strings cut.

He let himself drift away, knowing that he would never return to the gentle, peaceful man and softer, quiet dreams from before.

He mustered the last fragments of his willpower and turned his head away, just as the last of his breath was about to slip away from him.

A fingertip traced a familiar pattern just below and soon, a tongue took its place, burning trails of fire across Beau's skin with every caress.

Beau felt a sharp sting near the base of his neck, just above the Mandala, and withstood the sudden flashes of arousal and desire coursing through his body.

Beau slowly opened his eyes and looked up only to meet blood-red eyes staring back at him, heavily dilated in arousal.

Goosebumps spread rapidly and shivers rippled across skin newly exposed to the cold air. It felt empty, alone - something was missing.

Lost within the maelstrom of pleasure, Beau jolted sharply with a single touch, arching his back at the series of sharp twin stings along his inner thighs...

The sensations were all too much and yet still not enough. His voice escaped him, echoing for the first time that night as he frantically moved, desperate to soothe the itch sizzling beneath the surface.

At the same time, cool fingers continued dancing across his skin, stroking along his sides and toying playfully and roughly with hardened peaks before caressing his shoulders and arms...

Wave after intoxicating wave of blazing arousal stacked atop each other, spiraling away into the azure haze with no end in sight...

He desperately ripped his clothes off, fumbled around, and quickly located a half-empty tube and various other items he’d carefully snuck into his room.

"Contemplating the meaning of life," Mike murmured, staring off mindlessly into space.

Mike spoke up. “Even if you aren’t going to prom, wasn’t there some book store or game store you mentioned wanting us to swing by while in the city?”

Oh, right. With his mind otherwise preoccupied, he almost forgot about that.

That suited Beau just fine. He’d help Angela, Athira, and the others with their dress shopping for some time, then head out and swing by a few game shops. And if the Port Angeles bookstore he and Mike were slated to visit tomorrow evening gave them any leads in Seattle to check out, they could swing by those places as well.

He was thankful for his father’s trust as the card would prove helpful in Seattle.

When Beau entered the store for the first time with Mike, he was shocked to discover that the store also doubled as an occult shop, with various metaphysical items sitting in rows behind stationary and crafting supplies.

After the past month… no, two months, since school started, why was Harper giving them information so easily when the others had blocked them?

[swampstew]

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝒲♡𝓇𝒹? - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟧

Welcome back to Raven’s Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Come in a for a spell, grab yourself a hot cocoa and join us by the firepit as we begin tonight’s installment. You can find a link to the full chapter at the end of the post.

Minors DNI this is a mature novel.

It took several days to reach Amazon Lily. The trip there had been uneventful and the crew was starting to get antsy. Kid had barely seen Rowena during that time, running ship operations and tinkering in his workshop for most of his days. It wasn’t like she was going out of her way to see him either. She had kept to herself for almost the entire trip, mixing tonics and potions inside the infirmary and helping the doctor treat patients over small injuries and illnesses as they sailed. She rarely hung around the mess hall, preferring to grab a plate of food and eating alone. True to his word, Kid temporarily appointed Killer to catering to Rowena’s needs during the trip; the Massacre Soldier was Not Happy about it but he couldn’t argue with his Captain’s orders.

‘The fuck I am serving that little Witch!’ Killer hissed at Kid. ‘You knocked her out during her world cursing bit, that was cold dude.’ ‘Did you miss the part where she launched a fucking hurricane at us?!’ ‘So her aim is bad, she’ll learn. We’re mentors now,’ Kid gagged with an eye roll.

Still, even Killer felt a little unnerved at the Witch’s withdrawal from the crew, the solemn and glum expression on her face never leaving. She would ask for help tending to her plants and herbs but she didn’t really speak to him either. Even their nights preparing dinner were eerily silent.

On the last day of sailing, Kid woke up to good news – they finally reached the island. “FINALLY!” he crowed and leapt out of bed. Making his way to the main deck, he watched as the ship got closer to the landmass, appreciating the huge snake statues decorating the island. He saw Rowena at her typical place on the bow. He felt his mood improve twice as much when he laid eyes on her. He walked up to her, admiring her curves from behind. She was wearing a pair of tight shorts, sandals that wrapped around her calves, and she wore a top that crossed behind her neck and waist, tied in a neat bow on her lower back. Her tattoo was completely exposed, her hair was woven into a giant braid that hung off her shoulder. Kid walked up next to her looking ahead, “beautiful,” he commented, the tips of his ears turned pink.

“It really is, isn’t it? I hope they let us explore it,” she responded. They were not talking about the same thing. They stood together in silence as the ship made its way to the dock; they could hear the inhabitants of the island cheering for their Empress’ return. Law’s submarine surfaced as the gates opened and they were greeted by the Kuja warriors. As Boa Hancock leapt off the Navy ship, she was swarmed by her people. She announced the arrival of the others, pleading with Elder Nyon to let them pass through the island as they tended to Luffy’s injuries. It did not go over well.

Elder Nyon pointed at Rowena, declaring she be the only person aside Luffy and Jinbe, to be granted access to the island. Kid scowled and tried to argue with the woman but that got them nowhere as they yelled at each other, getting louder and louder. The Elder screamed at him that he couldn’t just walk on to the island as if he owned the place, Kid roared back “I DO WHAT I WANT!” Rowena let out a short chuckle and Kid glared at her. She immediately stopped and turned to depart the ship when they suddenly heard loud gasps and hisses coming from the empress and elder women.

Kid and Rowena turned to look down as Hancock pointed her finger at Rowena and screamed out, “COVER HER BACK THIS INSTANT.” Taking a step back, Rowena’s jaw dropped and her eyes were wide, “how do you-” but she was cut off by the Empress screaming at the top of her lungs that someone cover the Witch’s back right the fuck now. Kid hastily took off his giant coat and placed it on her shoulders. He picked her up, jumped up on the railing of the ship and leapt down to the island, smirking as Rowena gave out a tiny shriek and clung tightly to his shoulders. Her heart hammered in her chest from the rush as the Supernova held her tightly against him.

“No men are allowed on this island and that’s final!!!” Elder Nyon screamed, turning purple.

“You might not let me to pass but grant passage to Killer. He is Rowena’s servant and tends to her injuries, which she has still not recovered from.” Killer made a noise from up above but Kid glared him down. “Killer is a eunuch and a mute.” Elder Nyon considered him for a moment as he gently placed Rowena down. Rowena opened the front of the coat to show off her bandages and cast, intentionally acting weakened. After a moment, Elder Nyon nodded. Killer leapt down to the dock and picked up the back of the coat that was dragging on the floor; Rowena was too short for the long overcoat. Kid folding his arms over his chest and stood his ground – they may not let him enter the island but no one was gonna make him move from the dock.

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

Night had fallen by the time Rowena and Killer came back to the ship. Kid was still on the dock pacing back and forth, he was angry, tired and hungry. It didn’t help that Law would occasionally pop up from his ship to annoy him to no end, easily escaping under the sea in his submarine any time Kid actively tried to fight him. As soon as they reached him, Rowena pulled his coat off and offered it back to him, a small smile on her lips. Before he could ask anything, Killer pulled him aside as the small Witch boarded the ship.

“So what did you learn?” he grunted at his right hand man.

“A fair bit – they offered us some coordinates for local islands we can explore, there are a few promising ones a short distance away where we can restock on supplies and things. They also offered to supply us with fresh water and food for two days in the meantime.” Kid waited for Killer to continue. “Ultimately, Luffy is too frail physically and mentally. Hancock doesn’t want to make any plans until he resets to his normal state. We don’t know how much longer it will take but Rowena said that he just needs to sleep it off and eat a ton of meat and he’ll be fine. I’m not convinced though; the guy did witness his brother get punched through the chest and die in his arms.” Kid grunted and nodded along.

“Why did everyone get their panties in a twist over Rowena’s back?” he demanded. Killer cleared his throat uncomfortably, not answering right away. That made Kid mad and he started to growl at his friend.

“Rowena said she wanted to be the one to tell you about all that. She said she can handle telling you now.” Kid thought it over before remembering an earlier conversation with the Witch, the first time he had been less aggressive than normal to her in her cabin on the Sunny. Kid nodded turning around to follow her but Killer stopped him – “cabbage rolls first,” he suggested after hearing his Captain’s stomach make lewd noises. “I’ll make enough for the two of you so you can talk.” Kid agreed again turning to board the ship when Killer cleared his throat awkwardly.

“What?” Kid barked at him.

“Captain, are you really going to consider bringing Rowena with us to the New World? She is aligned with our rival and quite frankly, her power is…unhinged. She is strong but I worry that we might be accidental casualties.”

Kid sighed, rubbing his eyes angrily. “I’ll think about it.” He replied, walking away.

Killer called out, “she’s on night watch tonight.”

Balancing the over-sized plate of fresh cabbage rolls in one hand, a bottle of sake stored in his pant pocket, Kid made his way up the crow’s nest to get his answers. He opened the hatch to the enclosed space and Rowena greeted him, hands holding her head up as she surveyed the dark horizon. It was a cold and cloudy night, blocking out most of the moonlight. He sat next to her offering the food and drink, which she happily accepted downing a few while she listened to Kid bitch about Law.

The pale, yellow light in the cozy space kept flickering, so Rowena pulled out a lighter from her bag. She flicked it on and wagged her finger at the light, almost as if she was coaxing a dog out of a cage, and Kid watched as the fire slowly moved forward in a stream. She coaxed out some more before letting the flicker rest; using her magic she suspended the fire in the air for a moment, twisting her hands and making intricate movements, the fire came together in a large ball, pulsing. She gently pulled her hands apart and the fire ball split into seven smaller balls of fire, swirling about in smooth spheres, not a single flame flickering outside the ball shape. She raised them up so they were suspended in the air above them, not quite high enough to touch the ceiling or walls.

The small room lit up and Kid was pleased to be able to see her face much better. He stared, watching the orange flicker of light reflected in her eyes, it was like her irises glowed. It reminded him of the deep magenta sky when the sun sets. Rowena cleared her throat and he caught himself – he didn’t realize he had leaned so closely to her face.

Kid turned his head and downed several gulps of sake, internally groaning. “Killer said you wanted to talk to me,” he cleared his throat. He watched her smile shrink as she closed her eyes and nodded.

She held out her pinky, “Can we keep tonight’s conversation between us? Certain things I’ll be telling you are deeply personal to me, and to other people. I figured Killer might tell you anyways, but this should come from me. Please don’t share any of this with anyone.” He looked at her pinky before rolling his eyes and grabbing it with his own, grunting an affirmative. “Ok, this is the story of my life” she breathed deeply, and she began.

Read on Wattpad 🏴‍☠️ Read on AO3

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

I'm breathing on the window of your blog with my nose pressed to the glass, wondering if there's a potion in your store to help me deal with overwhelming kirishima feelings.

Well hello Nemo, how wonderful it is to see you here. Though please, no need to fog up my glass, my shop is always open for you! Come in, sit and stay a little while; I just made some tea for your visit.

And as for your overwhelming feelings, I may just have something for you...

Bookbinding was not the most glamorous of work; but it did provide for you with an honest and decent living, one where you could live comfortably and eat well - one that was not too labor intensive or left you working at all hours of the night, and truly what else more could you ask for?

It also provided you the opportunity to meet with the village’s blacksmith. A strong, and intimidating, man with fiery hair and eyes that easily towered over you and dwarfed your frame with his massive size; you doubted that there was any trade out there that could fit like him so perfectly than that of smithing.

Yet despite his appearances, the blacksmith was a very kind and sweet man, one that eased your nerves when you stood before him, frame almost trembling at his imposing nature, with a shake of his hand as he introduced himself as Kirishima. His large hand was warm, calloused from years of his trade, as his toothy smile regarded you warmly; asking for your name as he welcomed you into his shop.

From then on you felt blessed to be a bookbinder for it allowed you the chance to visit the gentle giant’s workshop; to have him delicately create the many hooks you needed to bind twine with parchment. To allow yourself the chance to bask in his glory and presence without getting too far into your head and worrying.

“It is a necessity,” You would whisper to yourself as your nervous footsteps approached the workshop “for both him and I.”

And for the longest time, it worked.

Though, as you found, time makes a fool of us all in one way or another. And before you knew it, those nerves that etched deep within your stomach - that fluttered about wildly - were not do to being frightful and unsure of the blacksmith. But rather because you had grown to enjoy his company, and became attracted to his kind smile, warm eyes, and sweet nature.

It all became overwhelming all to quickly; how your heart hammered so violently within your chest that you found it hard to breathe whenever you stood in his presence. That his smile made it hard to you to form a single thought or hear a word he uttered to you; causing you to stutter over yourself as you tried, and failed, to recover from your embarrassment. And to focus even slightly on something as he worked on your order could never be done, and you could only pray to the gods above that he never noticed your staring.

It was hard to be a professional, to get work done in a timely fashion, with all these emotions and feelings pulling you in all sorts of directions. You wanted desperately for some serenity; a moment of reprieve whenever you were in his presence and the only way you knew to possibly gain that was to visit the peddler that lived nearby.

Even if she was crazy at best.

She regarded you the moment you took a nervous step into her cluttered shop like you were an old friend overdue for a visit. She ushered you in with a knowing smile as she waved you in to look at her wares; her hands never halting their work as they carefully worked with a flame to boil a concussion of ever-changing, colourful, liquid.

“Your heart and mind are not acting as one.” She finally uttered, supposedly tired of the silence that fell like a blanket in the room as you carefully picked up and glanced from vial to vial. 

“I-I… w-well, I don’t, I’m not sure…?” Your stuttering response made her laugh, though not in a cruel way, as she hummed along while you explained your situation; almost as if she already knew every beat of your story. 

“Take this then” she poured the colourful concoction she had been brewing into a vial, bright sparks and a puff of smoke erupted when the last drop fell; unphased she closed it off with a small cork before handing it to you “Liquid Empathy always allow those who drink it a moment into your heart.”

She shooed you off, hands on her back and guiding you out of her shop, before you could protest; protest the dangers of said potion, the dangerous possible effects to those that drink it, and any inquiry as to how one might be able to get someone to take said drink. All of it fell on deaf ears as she smiled and waved you off.

It took a few days before you managed to find a solution; to give the blacksmith some bread and beer for all he had done, for only then could you have any hope of hiding the taste and power of the potion. And though your mind and heart were wreaked with guilt for such a deception, no matter how minor it was, you needed to quell the raging emotions that clashed and conflicted whenever in his presence - even if briefly - no matter the outcome; even if that outcome was to never again be allowed to speak with him again.

You made your way to his shop, knowing Kirishima would be there even so late at night for it was in his nature; and though it would benefit him to have a little reprieve, it benefitted you more to not have anyone else around. And ever the creature of habit, there he was; hammering away at a new piece of armor the crown had commissioned him for. You caught his eye with a tiny wave, knowing that your soft ‘hello’ could not be heard over his hammer.

“Well hey there!” He regarded you as warmly as he always did, wiping his brow as he approached you with that same smile that made you weak in the knees “What brings you here so late?”

You wanted to respond, to say the words you had practiced over and over in your head before arriving, but your tongue had turned to lead; working turning to sand in your mouth as you stumbled to even make a syllable; and after a moment, with his eyes blinking down at your expectantly - and kindly - you huffed quietly in defeat and held out the basket.

“This is for me?” Kirishima exclaimed, eyes going alight at the treat before him while you nodded your head “Thank you so much, what a sweet surprise!”

You watched as he took your wicker basket, setting it down on one of his many benches, to lift the banket that kept him from the goodies within. Exclaiming in delight the freshly baked bread and the mug of frothy ale; eagerly breaking a piece of the bread to stuff it into his mouth, quelling the raging hunger he was putting off, and lifting the mug up to his mouth the quell his ever-growing thirst.

Slowly, as the mug was raised to his lips, your self-doubt was etched and carved further into your beating heart; knots twisting and tuning more harshly within your stomach as your guilt knawed at your like the roots of a tree digging into the earth for purchase.

“N-no! Don’t!” You called out, hand darting out to pull his arm, and the mug, away from him; eyes unable to look at him, but knew he was staring at you with utter confusion. After a moment, after you knawed on your bottom lip once more, you gave him a glance “It’s a long story… but, um..”

And you told him how you felt for him; hands worrying as you picked at your nail beds, ee refusing to meet his - whether in shame, or embarrassment, or even both, you would never be sure - as you poured your heart out to him.

You didn’t think it would end with him finally silencing your ramblings with a soft and gentle kiss.

See? I knew a Touch of Empathy would work for you. Now I suggest you keep yourself away from other people, at least until the morrow, should you wish to be compelled to tell them your inner thoughts as well