#I don't fucking care at this point because he's going to sink or swim and that dude is holding tight to the anchor of mediocrity

[banannabethchase]

Okay so here's the problem.

When you have pretty severe OCD mixed with autism and PTSD and anxiety, you can misinterpret instinct and gut feeling for anxiety and vice versa.

And another problem is that, due to that unfortunate cocktail, it is very easy to gaslight that person and tell them something happened if someone says it in a mean enough, authoritative enough, and urgent enough way.

Anyway, fuck men who take advantage of people.

[jarofstyles]

Relaxation & Revelations

Helloooo. I Hope you enjoy. we're getting into the more serious part now, but it's gotttta be done don't it? 

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Warning- age gap/taboo relationship

WC- 3.3k

Previous part

____________

Y/N liked playing house with Harry.

It was a real problem, actually.

Her own apartment rarely saw her as she had been spending a lot of her time with her lover at his large, fancy and now mostly empty house. Y/N had helped Lia move in with her girlfriend, albeit a little bit fast in her opinion, she wasn’t one to judge. She was quite literally banging her father. All she could do was be supportive.

It was a weird mixed feeling in her chest. On one hand, she saw how fucked up it was. How she was betraying her trust, how she understood how it would disturb her if she had done the same- though no offense to her own, but she was safe in that aspect. It was not the best person to choose to fuck around with, but this aspect may be worse.

Falling in love with your best friend’s father is arguably worse.

Y/N knew it was going to blow up in her face at some point, but ever the optimist, she had decided to try and look at the positives and understand that whenever it came out, she would need to deal with the repercussions like an adult. Take whatever reaction there was and deal with it. It would be valid, regardless.

One of the mixed things was that Lia had caught on  about Harry seeing someone. She had wrinkled her nose and told Y/N that she had seen scratch marks on his back with no way he could cause them when she’d went to swim, that he had a hickey (that she had no idea Y/N had sucked onto his skin), and he had been noticeably happier. She had talked about how miserable he had been after the divorce, how for years he had hovered a bit because Lia had been his one focus, but she as glad that he was giving her space to breathe as an adult who was now out of college and supporting from a healthy distance.

“Y’know, I’m just happy he’s smiling again. He was whistling last time I came into his home office, ordering flowers. It’s gross because he’s my dad but cute because he deserves a second chance at love. Just like you!”

Y/N had felt both happy and guilty after that conversation.

Since moving out, Y/N had a steady drawer building in his closet. Her hair ties in a drawer in his bathroom. His room was their safe space considering Harry had built boundaries with Lia about it being his personal space when she got older, needing a room that wasn’t overrun with her stuff and a private place to breathe- just as he promised to stay out of her room. Y/N was free to lounge about his room without a care, use his giant marble bathroom to bathe and giggle with her bath bombs while Harry finished up work calls.

It was a nice little housewife roleplay. One Y/N realized could potentially be a reality if she played her cards right. Harry seemed to be just as into her, but she was still worried. He spoiled the shit out of her with his affection and newly, gifts, but she was always watching to make sure she didn’t overstep.

At some point they needed to have the dreaded ‘what are we’ talk, but right now? She really couldn’t risk messing it up. She was too happy, too comfortable with their slowly developing dynamic.

Sitting in the jacuzzi tub, the bubbles moved about as the jets massaged her back, a book in her hand as she enjoyed her bath. Harry’s bathroom was stupidly gorgeous. It had exquisite white and gray marble walls and floor, adding a touch of elegance to the room. The tub was surrounded by marble steps leading up to it, making getting in and out of the tub easy and safe, the depth of the tub something she hadn’t seen before.

The bathroom also had separate Mr & Missus sinks, each with their own marble countertops and elegant faucets. The Mr sink held a darker marble countertop, while the Missus sink had a lighter, veiny marble countertop. The sink was separated by a wide vanity mirror with those circular light bulbs to give the best possible lighting- though it was a tiny bit unforgiving, she could admit. No one needed to see pores that well. Underneath the vanities included cabinets and shelves for towels and other bathroom essentials- built in, Harry had provided. Made just for this particular bathroom, the black paint shiny and unscuffed.

The bathroom’s large shower with frosted glass entry doors also had a built-in bench. She could sit in the fucking shower! And… do other things. Harry liked that part and had shown her just how useful it could be.The space was complete with touches like gold-accented fixtures, eucalyptus hanging from the shower, monogrammed plushy white towels that probably cost more than her entire room at home, and a cozy, fluffy bathrobe hanging on the door- and he had sneakily brought one for her, too. The thought made her flustered. Harry was a very detail oriented person, and the things he could remember were slightly unsettling. He’d remembered her brand of face wash after seeing it once. One time!

Relaxing here had been a welcome part to her day after her shift. Being on her feet hadn’t done her well today, especially after being berated by entitled customers who thought that the prices were too high- as if Y/N herself made them. Being able to come here and crumble into Harry’s arms, have him wipe her pouty tears and promise her a meal after he finished his work for the day had made it significantly better.

“What’s the pretty girl reading?”

Y/N jumped, almost dropping the book into the foamy water as her heart pounded in her chest. She had been distracted and lost in thought, not hearing him enter in the slightest. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me.” She squeaked, placing the narrowly saved book down on one of the steps outside the tub, her hand resting over her thundering heart.

“I wasn’t exactly quiet.” Harry laughed, that crooked grin making her want to sink down further into the bubbles. It was unfair that a man could be that devastatingly attractive. “Tripped over one of your shoes.”

Y/N pursed her lips together as she looked up at the ceiling, pretending she knew nothing about said shoe. “I dunno who’s shoe that could have been. Surely it wasn't mine!” Harry had warned her about it prior. Her two true bad habits were leaving her fake eyelashes on his nightstand- which he had once mistaken for a spider and squeaked, making Y/N laugh so hard she snorted- and leaving shoes in the middle of the room.

“Mm… I know I don’t own pink, fuzzy sandals.” He shot her a look. “”But I’ll forgive the discretion for a kiss.” Leaning over the foamy, rose and vanilla scented bathwater, he tilted her chin up and pressed his lips on to her own. The man took a seat on the side of the tub, Plaid trousers paired with a white button up that had the sleeves rolled up. His forearms looked particularly delicious, the vein she usually drooled over showing as he used his arm to hold himself up. Glasses sat in his hair, the reading pair not needed for seeing her face.

“Everything okay?” She chirped, looking at his tired eyes. Harry worked hard, despite having moved a lot of his days to work at home. He preferred it. As charming as he was, he was a homebody, a slight introvert. His work was better when he could stay home and focus.

“Mhm. Now it is.” He let out a sigh, taking one of her dampened hands in his own as he played with her fingers. “Had a long day of calls. Sort of takes the wind out of me. What was it you said- need to charge my what battery?” His eyes squinted as he tried to remember what she had told him a few weeks ago.

“Social battery?” An empathetic smile was given when he nodded. “I understand that. Mine too. We both have tomorrow off, though… So if you can stand seeing my mug for another day, we can sit and watch that show you wanted….” Even after a few months of this developing arrangement? Relationship? She felt a little nervous to invite herself to stay over.

Obviously, Harry did not feel the same. His face lit up at the suggestion, shaking his head at her self-dig. “I always want t’see your face.” He said seriously. “So pretty. My favorite one.” Leaning over, he playfully pinched her cheek to make her smile. “I think that’s a lovely idea. Don't really want to see anyone but you anyways.”

It was a little scary how quickly that had become true. Y/N had become his person very fast and it had happened without his permission.

It was easy with her. Once that tiny hint of awkwardness at the beginning where they didn’t know how to navigate the new development had fallen away, he found himself indulging in her. Spending more time than just the sex they had initially had. There was no way he could just simply fuck her and leave- even though he’s had to in the past- considering he’d always cared about her on at the very least, a human level. It had them planning nights away, Harry renting a hotel room for them for a night here or there, texting each other daily, even just to chat. She’s been so supportive and kind and he was fucked.

Her beaming grin nearly knocked the wind out of him, warm cheek leaning into his hand at his response. He could feel the smile against it, how she was flushed-  from more than just from the bath. Harry had that effect on her, had her smiling and blushing and he wanted to make her giggle all over again.

He always wanted to make the woman happy. More than he wanted to make her cum- and that was a fucking lot. This was a potential problem, sure, but he wasn’t about to give her up. He knew the risks that it was taking. Greatly upsetting his daughter, ruining a friendship, hurting his own relationship with her- but he just liked her so, so much.

——-

Y/N was older than Lia by 2 years, having started uni later because she wanted to work for a bit and save up some money for when she went. The girls had clicked immediately when they’d met in their third year. The first time she and Harry met, she had been polite. Sweet. Complimenting his car as she approached it with Lia, looking in interest and offering to help them both carry up her stuff into their apartment. Harry had found them both a good place and Y/N had offered to pay rent to him- but he gave her a very discounted rate. She had said she wasn’t comfortable accepting a free place which he could understand, but she was in uni. He’d feel like shit pocketing any of the money. So instead he had simply used the money to help buy them furniture when it broke, get them meals when it was a special occasion, putting it back into them.

He had seen her quite a few other times after the first meeting. She had begun to pop up all around, coming home with Lia on a break or a long weekend, going on their boat in that first summer, hanging around the house when Harry had worked more at the office. She’d become a fixture for a while. He’d enjoyed their conversations, her energy refreshing and sweet- but he hadn’t had any sort of feelings for her. Y/N had just been a kind girl that he appreciated talking to and being a good influence on his daughter. She’s been beautiful the entire time, sure. But there had been something those few months ago that had just made it all snap into place.

Last summer they hadn’t come over in a long while. Their last year of school had been hard on both of them, and he understood that they hadn’t wanted to take the trips back up to see him as often. He’d sent groceries and care packages for both of them, knowing that he had more than enough money. Y/N didn’t ask, but had become close with his daughter and had her straightened out a little bit. He wanted to treat her as well. The man had turned a blind eye to the credit card charges for clubs and bars because she had been on a straightened path for a while and her grades had improved.

Harry loved his daughter with his entire heart, but he knew that she had been a bit of a difficult friend for Y/N for a while. She had dragged her into things and made her play mother hen quite a few times. Sure, he knew she liked to have a good time out but there had been a period of time where he had gotten a few phone calls from a frantic Y/N asking if he could track Lia’s phone, or if he could see if she used the Uber account. Most of the time she had run off with a guy or girl and Harry had been apologetic those few times when Y/N had been the one to go off and find her. After the 3rd time, Harry had properly told Lia off and scolded her, letting her know that she was lucky to have a friend who cared as much for her as Y/N had and if she continued she would more than likely lose her for her own selfish actions.

Since then she had calmed- for the most part.

Having an empty home now, with Lia now moved in with her girlfriend, would have crushed Harry if it hadn’t been for Y/N. It had been different when she was at school, but knowing she left and didn’t necessarily want to come back except to visit had hurt his heart. He’d been lonely for a while, with the divorce and his daughter going away to school, but he had always counted on her coming back and staying for a while.

The man had a decent arrangement of friends, but only a few people he trusted. He was truly a homebody and kept a very tight knit inner circle, but it hadn’t been the same as having someone with him. Within arms reach. Someone who could lounge around in the living room while he worked and a face to greet him in the kitchen when he came out at lunch to grab a snack. He loved Mitch, but he knew he wouldn’t want to sit in his kitchen and make him a snack just out of the goodness of his heart like Y/N had been doing.

He also knew Mitch was going to be a bit shocked at the revelation of who he had been spending his time with lately as he sat at the bar with him- but he hadn’t expected him to choke on his beer, coughing up a storm as he grabbed at a napkin. His friend was usually calm, cool and collected, someone he thought would never be phased. Turns out, he had been wrong.

“You’ve been seeing who?” He asked once his throat was clear and his nose didn’t burn from the uptick of beer that had gone right up it.

“Y/N.” Harry said, blinking right back at him.

“As in, Y/N your daughter’s best friend? That one? Her old roommate?” He was speaking lowly and monotone, but he knew his friend. He knew he was absolutely shocked.

“Yes, her. Listen, I know it’s not ideal but it just… it happened. And I came to tell you because I’m so fucking happy but equally as terrified. Lia is going to be so upset and I don’t want that to happen, but things are getting deeper with Y/N and I finally-” he was interrupted by his friend cutting him off.

“Yes, Harry. Lia is more than likely going to be upset that her father and best friend are involved. It’s a natural thing. I’m positive she would never expect that.” He stressed. “It will be normal for her to be upset. I’d more than count on it.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.” Harry muttered, raising his glass to the words.

“No. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be happy, H. I’m saying you need to expect that. It’s the reality of the situation. Y/N and Lia are not going to be the same but you need to ask if that’s a risk you’re willing to take.” His face softened a little bit seeing the anxiety written clearly on Harry’s features. It had been so long since he had that little light in his eyes again, and no one would want to ruin it. But he had to be a good friend. “Listen… I want you to be happy, Harry. We all do. But you need to wait and see if this is what you truly want. Don’t jump into telling her yet. In other instances I’d say honesty is the best but… If this doesn't last, if you start to get cold feet, you don’t want to cause an upheaval for no reason.”

Mitch didn’t want to doom the relationship- even though he sort of suspected he had having some sort of midlife crisis, he won’t mention it- but he wanted Harry to think and not get ahead of himself. “Have you guys talked about it yet?”

Harry squirmed slightly in discomfort, eyes falling to the glass of amber liquid in his hands. They hadn’t. It was a lot of reading between the lines. A lot of going off of emotions. He had real feelings, but what if she didn’t? What if this was just a fun fling for her? She was a twenty-something year old. Did she want to settle down? He wasn’t in a rush, but he didn’t have time for games anymore. He was grown. Did Y/N want something serious?

It had progressed over time. At first, it was a bit of dirty, naughty fun. He liked her a lot as a person and the sex had been hot and tickled a taboo part of his fantasies, but it had grown. Evolved. She stayed with him half the week, she slept in his bed, curled up in his arms as she listened to him read the news on the phone in the morning. She made him coffee and brought it to him in his office, sat in his lap while he scrolled through emails. It had gotten to the point where they didn’t even have sex every day. They’d kiss, cuddle, they’d chat, but it felt a lot like a relationship. One he had always wanted when he was younger. Far from innocent, but pure in its own form.

They needed to discuss the emotional aspects of it, but he was scared. Terrified, even, to bring it up and potentially ruin or disturb the lovely routine and vibe they had now. He didn’t want to scare her away, but Mitch was right.

He needed to know if this was real.

[campbenji]

*JWCT SPOILERS* very messy first thoughts

OH BOY here we go

-ben and darius's dynamic was epic. the hug. the roadtrip scenes. "is your friend okay?" "no 😊". ben getting darius out of his isolation cabin and darius grounding him in ep2. the parallels with s3ep7. "you kiss your mother with that mouth?" i'm gonna be thinking about that scene for days. their ship is still a swim to me but please they better keep whatever the fuck they have going on in s2 because it's fucking wonderful

-i love that they took the chance to give more light to duos we didn't see much in jwcc. teamups we didn't often see like ben and sammy, THE B-DUO, and darius and sammy got very special moments here

-the amount of pictures/videos from the six years in between??? the brooklynn flashbacks??? we were so well fed

-BRAND!!!!!! i got so happy when i heard him the first episode, he's clearly been checking on his brother and i'm glad he's ok

-bowman family FEAST. brand and darius talking over the phone. the pictures on the cabin. kenji saying he calls mrs. bowman once a week and all the nice things he said about her. the whole mess between kenji and darius. "we're brothers, right?" i died dead. i love this family your honor

-sammy. she's got so much going on and we desperately need to talk about it. i'm so worried about her, she's desperately trying to avoid confronting what happened with brooklynn, with yaz and her own trauma, and then they casually dropped on us that her family isn't speaking to her and never elaborated on that?? sammy, who's love and care for her family was her biggest motivation in jwcc?? i need to know what happened because it must've been big

-mateo!! i liked him a lot, he definitely doesn't want to get into any of this mess but still dabbles around a bit to help the kids, which i respect. also i hope we get to meet his daughter hiraya, she sounds really cool

-MS MICROBANGS (or the handler, or whatever name we're calling her). what is her deal. who is she working for. she's so uncanny, literally almost robotic i need to know more about her

-brookenji over i cheered. don't take this personally i've never been a fan of this ship and a part of me knew they weren't going to last long

-the animation increased in quality so much. the scene after ben, yaz and sammy get out of the sinking van is so well done it's so pretty to look at. and the t-rex with the explosion behind her? it reminds me so much of toro in the tunnels in s1ep8, and i haven't tested this out but i feel like if you put them one next to the other the improvement would be so noticeable.

-also related to the point above: that thing when a character's eyes start filling up with tears but they don't cry just yet? 10/10. chef's fucking kiss

-sure jwct has the same tv-y7 rating as jwcc, but from minute 1 it's obvious it's not the same audience they're talking to. it's not a big change in tone, like for example adventure time/distant lands/fionna and cake, but it's there, you can tell they know it's not little kids watching anymore

-BUMPY IS HAVING A BABY BUMPY IS A MOM NOW they had me shit scared for her and then they pulled a freaking egg my heart was literally pounding. anyways i hope they get both bumpy and the egg somewhere safe and that they name the new anky "speckles" (i've gotten so attached to that name in the last 24 hours it's insane)

-YASAMMY THE QUEENS THAT YOU ARE. their relationship was stellar this season, i was scared when i saw that they were apart but their issues felt organic to their relationship and i just love how they were written in the show, they are still so in love with each other and i can't wait to see where they go next season. they're everything to me

-yeah they were apart for half the season but. benji crumbs. the egg cradle scene. kenji helping ben after he got hit with the stun gun. basically all they did was act like they knew each other but idc. we are so back.

-the brooklynn reveal was... meh?? it could've been more rewarding if they waited until s2 to reveal she's still alive, but at least i hope they take their time before reuniting her with the rest of the camp fam. also i can't believe ppl even guessed what arm she was going to lose y'all have prophetic powers or smth

-bringing daniel back to kill him the same episode was an insane move btw. i would've normally complained but it's all worth it for causing the panic attack scene in ep7. kenji's reaction felt so genuine, i'm forever in awe at how well this show writes grief and trauma

-i'm so conflicted about darius's confession. i like dinostar, but i feel like it wasn't needed for darius to be in love with brooklynn to explain the voicemails and the way he was dealing with her death. she was one of his closest friends, his grief made sense even with them being platonic. on the other hand, i love how he admitted it to kenji and the fact they didn't turn it into a huge fight between them; also, "i didn't know i could even feel that way" aroace/acespec darius truthers never lose

-maybe it's just that i need to rewatch, but i'm lost as to where they're going next season?? i know they're getting on a boat but where does that go?? what are they trying to do?? there's so much happening my head is spinning

-ben... he kind of felt like the comic relief for most of the show, the first episodes showed him as being really paranoid again and struggling with being alone, but halfway through the season they just sort of forgot about it?? idk something was off

-bring back kenji's old latin spanish va idk who this guy is but that is not kenji i can't do this. i'll survive the loss of ryan potter but i won't survive this

anyways yeah i think those are most of my uncooked thoughts, overall i really liked the season, i can't believe we got to see the kids again this is still so unreal to me

[blacklegsanjiii]

•°♤°• What would happen if 01234ji all escaped Germa? Zeff would have 5 eggplants and if would be very funny of how would that go. But 0124ji are very overprotective of Sanji. They are guilty for their actions and want to redeem themselves so doing that they would want to protect Sanji. I'd have a feeling Yonji would be Sanji's fav bro bc Yonji is younger than Sanji & Sanji has that older sibling instinct. (Can be ASLXSANJI God AU of regular).

That's great, but they all need food names. Also yeah, imagine they feel guilty and then their brother is a god. Wild.

Zeff pinning Sanji to the deck of the Orbit only to have four tiny bodies hanging on him as the ship starts sinking. So now he and five rainbow haired brats are stuck on a rock so he gives them the food and goes and sits on his side. The he eats his leg. Then they get rescued. So Zeff and the kids are recovering and the blond is the worst of them for some reason. Zeff decides he's going to be called eggplant. I feel like Reiju would nectarine, ichiji would be chili, niji blueberry and yonji would be called floret like broccoli. So he recovers and they start work on the Baratie and Zeff suddenly has five children. Which is five more than he had like four months ago. It'll be fine.

Sanji and Ichiji cook, Reiju is the hostess, Yonji and Niji wait. They've cultivated a weird little family for themselves, even if the four stick to the blond like glue and apologize for things randomly. Eggplant doesn't like hats and toys with his hair a lot, one of the others will catch his hand and hold it. The boys share a room and one morning a group of teens come say Sanji is sick and shaking the geezer who is trying to calm them down, so they go check and yeah. Reiju is pointing and saying they never get sick and Zeff knows that's the truth, in the entire time they've been together they don't get sick, so eggplant having a fever and Sanji is shivering and sweating and yeah, he's sick. So he gives the kids shift to stay with him and they continue on as normal. As normal as his kids are. Floret uses his winch hands to whip assholes around the Baratie, Chili will use his laser eyes to destroy ships, Nectarine has eaten a whole poison fish on a dare, blueberry will electrocute dickbags who speak ill of his sister and the eggplant when he goes to help wait. Either way the eggplant is sick so he has the kids take shifts to take care of him.

Sanji is better after a few days and is even more drawn to the water than he was before. The brats could swim for hours, but him especially. His siblings ask him what's going on because he shouldn't be staring at the sun like he is and he's like 'I'm the Ocean, I know where the All Blue is' as his siblings ask what the fuck that means Sanji explains his past lives, his spouses-plural which piss his siblings, Zeff, Patty and Carne off- and Ichiji is like 'well, we're not gods, but you're not like us so it's fine' which is the conclusion the brats come to. It's not fine. Zeff is cursing up a storm and demanding what the fuck happened to his brat?

Then Luffy shows up and everything happens and he leaves and no one knows Luffy is the sun god and Luffy doesn't mention they're married or anything. So they all pay attention to the news and everything going on with their brother. Up until Marineford. Where Fire Fist is a god-the god of stars and Luffy is there with him and that clown is livestreaming it to the whole world. None of the crew is there and Fire Fist is screaming that the Elders are lucky so far it's just him who has unlocked his godly form. Then there is nothing after Marineford for two years. Then it turns out they're all alive and then after Wano the Strawhats, Ace, and Sabo show up at Baratie because uh...they need to meet Sanji's family properly but also uhhh, Zeff is probably going to kill Sanji's spouses if his siblings don't get to them first.

[avonne-writes]

Watermelon Kisses

Lucemond drabble inspired by this poll, 670 words

AO3

Luke sighs as his feet sink into soft, damp sand, and the sea spills out on the shore to lap at his toes. A warm breeze sweeps salt off the waves that glitter in the setting sun's light. In front of him, the sky is a peach-pink swirl as dusk begins to drape over the afternoon. He’s exhausted. Soaking in sunshine and cold seawater all day drained him.

Resting his gaze on the horizon, he heaves a deep sigh.

"Lovesick, are we?" A teasing voice calls out from his left.

It's Aemond, bane of his existence and god of his wet dreams. Only a scrap of clothing on his body, tiny green speedos that barely leave anything to the imagination. A dark blond trail of hair and the arrow-sharp cut of his hips point to it in a careless, brazen display. His hair, usually so smooth, has dried into fluffy golden curls that threaten to make Luke’s knees buckle. In Aemond's mouth, a popsicle, bright red to leave his lips smeared in its colour as he sucks on it lazily, with sloppy slurps and licks.

"Oh my God." Luke grumbles under his breath, turning his eyes heavenward to convey just how little he appreciates being tormented like this. He starts walking away, down along the stretch of sandy beach towards the pier. His white shirt billows around him, and he feels his shorts ride up somewhat, revealing a strip of paler skin on his thighs.

Unfortunately, Aemond follows. He smells like sunscreen and his mother's coconut body mist, a scent that makes Luke want to snort in amusement and bite Aemond's neck at the same time.

"Don't be so touchy, I was just teasing." Aemond's words roll off his tongue with a nonchalance that contradicts the way he presses closer to Luke. Their arms brush. "Who are you mooning over?"

You, you absolute asshole, Luke thinks as a shudder ripples through him. That was his main activity all day, since he watched Aemond change into his swim trunks under a towel that almost fell off his hips. Weeping on the inside from pent-up arousal as Aemond paraded around in his skimpy swimwear and obliterated Jace and Aegon in volleyball. Dying every time the man bent down to retrieve the ball.

"None of your business." Luke says at last, just as they're about to pass the lifeguard tower.

He doesn’t have time to add anything else - with quicksilver moves and a firm grip, Aemond tugs him back by the wrist and pushes him up against the wood of the platform.

"What if I want to make it my business?" He asks, so close that Luke can see the freckles on his cheeks, constellations across the bridge of his sharp nose. His blue eye looks violet under the orange hues of the evening glow. His hair curls over his shoulders in perfect coils.

"What?" Luke gapes dumbly, eyes flickering to the popsicle Aemond still holds in his free hand. Following his gaze, Aemond throws it away. "Hey -"

"I don't care." Aemond cuts him off before Luke can complain about his littering. He steps ever closer, fingertips dancing on Luke's other wrist too before he gathers it in his grip. The wind ruffles the cloud of his sun-warmed hair. "What if I wanted it to be my business?"

Luke’s wide eyes hold Aemond’s gaze. He swallows. "Why would you want that?"

"Because -" Aemond lets one of his hands go to touch the sunburn on Luke's cheek. "- you belong to me, nephew."

His thumb and forefinger stray to Luke's chin. "I'm tired of denying it. I've been watching you all day, waiting to see if you want it too. But you just keep teasing me in your slutty shorts."

Despite the growing elation in his chest, Luke splutters. "Slutty? Who's the one wearing a jockstrap in public?" One that barely covers what’s stuffed into it…

Aemond frowns. "These are normal swim trunks."

"No, they're not - oh, fuck it." Luke throws his hands up, cups Aemond's face and kisses him. His lips taste like sticky-sweet watermelon, and his body radiates the fading warmth of the sun as he wraps his arms around Luke and picks him up. His curls tickle Luke’s skin.

"It was you." Luke mumbles between one kiss and the next, tracing Aemond’s cinnamon freckles with his lips to the laugh lines around his eye.

Aemond strokes the dip of Luke's spine. "Hm?"

"You were the one I was pining for."

A slow smile lights up Aemond’s face before he leans in to kiss a path down Luke's neck. "Of course it was me."

[sansxfuckyou]

This... They made this?

Summary: Copen is aware that he really shouldn't be doing what he is, but he really can't help himself, and she left the book lying out in the open; unbeknownst to him, Haku is facing a similar dilemma.

Warnings: None!

Authors Note: This is a gift for @teseo-trolls-u using their OC Haku because I can and its nice knowing I'm not the only person creating for this fandom

He really should not be doing this, and he is highly aware of that fact, but... If you leave your journal open its free game, he tells himself that at least.

So here he sits at Hakus desk, reading a small, pink notebook full of poetry and confessions. He doesn't read the confessions, and he can easily flip past them as they usually have the word 'confess' within the first sentence. He truly can't help but take in every single word of the poems he's reading, all of it sinks in and he'd never be able to wash it out if he wanted to.

But he doesn't want to ever forget these, 'eyes a rich vino,' 'a thousand strands of silver,' 'shining like lode stars,' no, those are sticking with him forever. And it takes a few poems to realize what Haku was writing about, a few more than he'd admit, but when he does realize, he snaps it shut. Deep red rising higher and higher up his neck till it reaches his ears, it matches his eyes, he's internally shook at the words used to describe him.

'Vampire king,' 'hero of eternity,' 'slayer and savior,' he feels extremely, extremely, he doesn't quite know what he feels as he reopens the book and goes back a few pages. He didn't even think it possible for someone to use words to describe him in such splendor and a twisted sense of adoration, he only uses twisted because of one line.

('Even majestic bathed in crimson')

"Did she really write this?" Copen managed to mumble to himself, it wasn't loud enough for anyone but himself to hear, and he suddenly feels like he really shouldn't be where he is.

Entering someones room when they aren't around can be excused, something might've been in there. Taking a few moments to admire the items inside of the room, yeah, that could be brushed off. But actively sitting down and reading something that is most definitely extremely personal, that is one heck of a fuck up.

He's desecrating something sacred, a woman's privacy, but he can't force himself to stop reading and leave; another notebook labeled poetry catches his eye.

He's going to superhell, right now, he does not care.

---

She doesn't exactly think she shouldn't be doing this, because he left them out on the table, kitchen table, for all to see.

So she continues to flip through his sketchbook, some unfinished armor concepts, enemy tactics written in chicken scratch, there are some red pen notes here and there pointing to certain things; she doesn't care about that stuff to much. When she reaches the pages that truly highlight his artistic side, she slows down to really appreciate them, landscapes and portraits, always detailed to the mark, quite lovely.

She memorizes the images, never wanting to forget them, traces her fingers along details she enjoys, hoping it would help her remember the landscapes, she reads the footnotes as well. 'Met the Azure Striker here, he won,' she remembers hearing about that from GV, 'ate some really good food here, hence the sauce stain,' she brought her fingers to the splotch of soy sauce, dried and a light brown, 'I don't why I stopped here, but its a shame pencil can't catch its beauty,' she disagrees with the remark on the pencil. Then she reached the finished concepts and drawings of people she knew, her face heated up when she caught the first drawing of that category.

It was her in one of Copens hoodies, it was oversized on her, she looked like she was practically swimming in it, but he drew her in perfect proportion; she wasn't sure how she felt about that. It wasn't colored, it was shaded, like all the others, she still liked it, she checked the footnote, 'I'm giving her one of my hoodies soon,' she nearly melts. The next drawing, a picture of the Sumeragi school outfit, the edges are bolder, smudges are evident, he even added faint shackles, symbolism perhaps. The footnote reads 'she's to good for them, my assistant in the uniform of such a lowly foundation,' savage, amazing, open thoughts, she's never heard the such from him.

The third drawing, an armor concept, probably for Lola, she assumed it was for Lola given everything about it, but the bodice work wasn't like Lolas, no footnote. She flipped to next page, finer details on the previous pages works, it held a few notes for circuitry and supplies needed, a small footnote 'bikini armor, how low have I dropped' she smiled a bit. The next page had a drawing that looked vaguely like her, the hair at least, wearing said armor, there was a shading to emphasize what she presumed was a bodysuit. This time the footnote said 'fuck, would she even wear a bodysuit?' her face heated up, maybe he was talking about her? Naw, no way, he's far too cool for her, she pushed aside the train of thought to admire the colors, her favorite colors.

She went to close the sketchbook, but, a dog eared page, what could lie beyond it.

Haku spent a moment to think if this was a wise idea, after that moment, she flipped on.

She was gonna be killed if Copen found out about this.

---

Copen was heading down the halls, face red, gait hasty but steady, head down and one small notebook in his arms; he was going to lie to get out of this. He continued his search for Haku until he found her sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through his sketchbook, he was even more embarrassed. He cleared his throat and Haku snapped the book shut before turning to find him holding out the notebook, her notebook.

"I found your notebook in the hallways, I hope you don't mind, but I may have read a few of the poems, it was open when I found it," Copen lied, trying to keep his tone steady, Haku took the notebook, clutching it to her chest, "did, did you see the armor concepts?"

"Ah, yes, I'm sure Lola will love them," Haku said before gripping the sketchbook to hand to Copen, he took it, she deftly ignored the shade of his face.

"They aren't for Lola," Copen muttered quietly, he took note of the shift in Hakus expression before turning to leave, "I'll stop bothering you, thanks for finding my sketchbook."

Haku couldn't respond, words stuck in her throat as Copen walked away, unable to procure a coherent response.

She knew exactly what he meant.

How could she respond?

[sucuretcannelle]

BUSTS DOWN THE DOOR.

Star, Moon, and Sun for Aibre, Atlas, and Azzy.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOW-

I'm a little late but you'll see why

I'll do Azzy tomorrow but I want this OUT

Ai's whole life revolves around her relationships. Without them, she feels like nothing. Feeling like nothing would help her so much but we all know she's constantly on the wrong path. One thing that wouldn't change at all is where she gets her inspiration from, which would be her mind and past life experiences. Half of her ideas and choices come from that, or whatever someone told her that she should do.

The Sin of Wrath? Being generous? You'd be surprised. She's forced to clean up after Nash's hellish rule, there's only two options she could've gone with. Be worse than he was (that would be very difficult to do naturally) or deal with it in peace. She didn't choose violence, she knows that her life has only just started and any mistakes and cruelness she shows people will just put even more mental chains on her, and she doesn't want to be weighed down this quickly, she knows how it's affected Nash already and that's the type of shit you watch from a distance. That doesn't mean she's a great person though. But between her and Nash, one of them is the lesser evil.

Serenity isn't a term that sits in her head. Her life is a constant balancing act. No highs and lows, just a plateau with gentle bumps that would eventually turn into deep lows or lofty highs if she took a step back from her control, and she chooses not to risk it.

She shouldn't have hope. We've all seen that hope has continuously left her empty handed, but it's still something she yearns for. Hope brings a sense of comfort that she's never had. If hope was in the sky, she'd have her face glued to the ground out of pure stubbornness and her mental exhaustion and then she'd complain when it leaves without her.

Ai has a very small ideas for the future. She cares about the future in only certain aspects of her life, and throws the rest away only to pick up the same ideas later, decide how she feels about them, just to throw them away again. "Oh what're her ideas for the future," you don't get the right to know that yet...you know that right?

(I somehow already addressed the moon with her, I'm just too good)

Okay I'm done with being negative. The sun is a great card! Enlightenment from the Sun card is great, but it focuses on one person and not everyone else around them.

The thing is, Ai has no idea what her version of enlightenment is or how she would get to it. Silence would give her guidance, but not enlightenment. Fuck, I'm her creator and I wouldn't know. That's all up to fate and she chooses to just leave that alone.

For her, I would rewrite finding truth as finding clarity. She knows enough now to be able to address things as soon as they come up. Her relationships don't need to be unnecessarily mudded up for any unknown reasons.

A moment of glory that first came to her head was her Investiture in her home world. Yeah she was bothered that Al didn't go (honestly she's still mad about it to this day but who wouldn't be) but that wasn't about him anyway. It was the first time she has ever been truly rewarded for her efforts. It was almost bittersweet because Ai knew that her fate was no longer in Orion's hands and her safety net was basically gone for her, but she knew that she had to move forward. It was sink or swim and she still had enough energy in her to keep going without a second thought.

Let's be honest, Ai trusts her abilities. Not as much as Nash does, but not too little to the point where it makes her seem too hesitant. If you asked two years ago, you wouldn't be able to get an answer from her because she'd be so terrified; I say that's character development.

Atlas is strange. I think we already know that by now but I can barely figure him out sometimes and I made him. Most of his inspiration comes from fights he's had at some point in his life. Mostly in a debate manner, but he's been in his fair share of physical fights here and there. That feeds his wisdom and he always feels the urge to learn, but mostly the hard way, so he knows every step of a situation he comes out of.

Atlas is generous to those who are generous to him. He doesn't really have to think it through either; if someone's nice to him, he'll treat him with respect. Those who defy him in any way are getting run over with the force of 10 trucks. What are they gonna do? Fight back?

Atlas' mind is always a little empty. He chooses not to think too much, all his focus is on keeping balance between the thinking and working side of his brain and the empty, slow moving side of his brain. He gets extremely overwhelmed and even ill when that balance is unstable. So in all truth, he usually lives in some sort of state of serenity. But it's also why he's so forgetful...

Atlas is a very practical, grounded individual. Hope isn't a thing that he takes into account in his life. Luck, yes, but hope? Hope is something that can constantly change, therefore he feels like he has no reason to trust it. He'd rather just let things unfold in front of him before hoping for something just for it to be the opposite of what he expected.

Speaking of hope, Atlas has nothing to look forward to. Not in a depressing manner, but he's seen just about everything so nothing could really affect him, good or bad at this time. If one would look into a traditional version of The Star in the deck, his mindset would be the water being poured. There's an endless supply of it and water can withhold a bunch of shit, and even destroy sturdy structures. And just like water, his reactions to situations are in a constant cycle. No changes can stop that, as long as his mind, the water, is still in existence.

Atlas has been through so much, he has nothing to fear. At least nothing that would be surprised by. The roleplay takes place during the flattest, least important part of his life. He has nothing to stress out about so he's not going to go out of his way to find things that stress him out. He doesn't enjoy anything that would contribute to any mental stimulation that could be sparked in his brain, making it extremely hard for him to think outside the box and use his imagination. This could cause him to slightly lose sight of his goals (if he has any important ones at this point) just because he chooses not to think harder.

In all truth, Atlas has already reached personal enlightenment a few times. Despite him being known to be sluggish, he's accomplished more than many other gods ever could. He understands how to find truth and clarity, and he's so talented at it that it makes him seem like a lie detector. Everyone thinks it's some sort of magic, and it is, but only because of the things he's done in what he calls the "physical realm."

If you were to ever ask Atlas for a moment of glory, he would pick when he was finally able to beat Siran in a fight. That would be easy for him now, but that was the first time his father ever rewarded him for something that was super energy draining. That would've also been the day he was crowned the God of Stars.

Atlas trusts his abilities too much. Not as cocky as Nash, but way cockier than Ai. He thinks that everything he does is going to work, but when he sees something that's practically impossible, he won't step in and try to intervene.

[sashashostakov]

@balshoy-medvyed

“Again with the swearing … I will be fine, I am more better suited to this climate than I look, I can assure you. But I do appreciate your concern, Sasha.” A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth upon hearing the boy’s genuine concern; if the department were to succeed in sinking their claws into him, that would be removed. No concern for others. No conscience. Nothing but their objectives … no innocence or choice. That was why this was important to Mikhail. It had taken him a lifetime to reclaim those things and he would not see Department X tear another apart to suit their needs. Trudging on through the snow, Mikhail kept his gaze wandering across the expanse of white and tree trunks strewn out before them. It would be a few hours before they reached the closest Eveni settlement, but it was still a better choice than swimming across the river. He would be fine if he were to change forms, but the boy did not have that luxury. It was better to keep moving for now. “I will not lie to you - if they find us, they may well attempt to kill me. I have been a proverbial thorn in their side for many years and I have managed to slip through their grasps a few too many times. You, you will be not be killed. You are an asset to them because of your parentage.” Meeting the teenager’s gaze with a sideways glance, Mikhail pursed his lips, remaining silent for a few moments as he considered how to traverse this imaginary minefield. He did not wish to overstep boundaries that Alexei should explain, but he needed the boy to understand the true danger he was in. 

“They will drag you back to that place. They will put you through conditioning to wipe away all that you are and all that you know. They will do this until they have a blank slate and they will build you into a soldier of their own design and send you to kill those you care for.”

brows furrowing at the man's answer, it was blunt, but at least the guy wasn't going to tip-toe around how far up shit creek they were. what the hell had he landed himself in? jesus christ, he'd just gone to see a grave and ... and what?

no fucking clue. but the thud of pain at the back of his head told him something had hit him. whether it was there in the cemetery or that place they'd escaped - was everyone else at home okay?

would they have tried to do the same to his mom? his pops? would they know where he was now? but what if that was the point? what if he was just a lure to drag them into a trap? what if ... what if. what if.

' i don't want to hurt anyone. '

shaking his head, the teenager tried to stop his thoughts from going into freefall again. instead, he gave the other man a proper look up and down; he was tall, well over the six-foot sasha hovered around, but he was solid too - had he been a soldier? he definitely knew his way around this place, so had he been here before too? what had the guy done to make himself such an enemy to those department people?

' why ... why would they want to kill you? would they not just - like you said - condition you too? ' the air quotes he used probably didn't land too well, but he was doing his best to try and understand the shitshow he'd been landed in.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Big Ideas

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

I decide to make breakfast for everyone and that way Quincy and Rhys can focus on packing up.

Besides, tomorrow we won't get anything fancy so today will help balance it out.

I'm going easy, french toast and because even I think like a 12 year old now and then, I bought sausages.

I mean with the four of us in the house, how could I choose bacon?

I plan on letting Finnegan sleep but when I look out... Rhys is giving Quincy a blow job by the pool.

I'm surprised only because I know they normally fuck in the mornings... maybe they didn't want to wake us up.

I decide that Finnegan will hate me if I let him miss it.

"Rise and shine sleepyhead. Put on shorts and come downstairs with me and if you're quiet and sit on the bar stool, I think you'll get to see a show."

He woke up half grumpy but my words are sinking in and he side-eyes the window.

"Kay, I'm coming."

"No but Quincy might soon. Down you go."

I tap his bum as he pulls up his shorts and he flies down the stairs. When I walk into the kitchen he is unabashedly staring.

"That is so hot, Emmett."

"Hmm."

Quincy is seated, his legs spread and head tipped back onto his palms.

Rhys is a bit harder to see because Quincy was thoughtful enough to mostly hide them from our view but I can tell he's wearing cute pajamas.

I start the coffee, peek again and then pull the sausage, eggs and milk from the fridge.

"I want mine too, Emmett."

That I did NOT think about before bringing him down.

"Later, darling."

We can both go one morning without... last night was... damn.

"We can go outside and do it now," he offers.

I'm tempted, honestly but there are lines and I think this one needs to be discussed between the four of us.

Granted, Quincy doesn't seem to have his line in quite the same place so I doubt he'd care.

"Fine. Guess kissing is okay, for now," he teases.

That's funny because he was worried about it when we first met.

"Yeah, definitely."

They've finished and Rhys is up on his lap.

I pour us each a cup of coffee, snap the lid on Finnegan's and sit down with him while the sausage cooks.

"What you making, Emmett?"

"French toast and sausage, plus we have yogurt and fruit."

"I guess that will fill my tummy even though it is very, very empty."

Poor thing.

He's also tenting his shorts so I reach over and play with him a little.

"Not helping."

"I'm helping myself, babe. What's the rule?"

He thinks for a minute, his tongue peeking out from the side of his mouth.

"I let you do whatever you want?"

I kiss his cheek.

"That's the one."

Definitely my favorite rule although him stripping when he gets home is way up there too.

Quincy and Rhys walk in and Rhys jumps right up and sits next to Finn while Quincy gets him some milk.

"Can I steal some of this coffee?" he asks.

"Help yourself, we're done with it," I tell him.

"I'm making breakfast if you guys wanna eat, probably take fifteen minutes or so."

"We will take you up on that, Emmett, thank you," he says, leaving his mug with creamer in it next to the coffee pot.

"Bunny, shower time."

"Can't I just take a pool shower?" he asks, his whole head turned towards the double doors.

"No, no more pool. Let's go."

They head upstairs and it's quiet.

All I can really hear is the light sizzling of the sausage while it steams.

It's nice though, that Finnegan and I have gotten to this point, that we can just exist together without either of us being uncomfortable.

I get up and heat up the big pan and turn the oven on to warm so I can finish up breakfast.

"Finnegan, what did you decide about the tattoo?"

"I wanted to get it to remember the trip but I wanna swim so I think I'm just gonna buy the house instead. Then we can come whenever we want and I'll get more ink soon."

I almost drop the skillet.

"What? This house?"

It has to be worth a million... it has to.

"Yeah. Don't you love it?"

Is that the point?

How is that the point?

"I do but it's a house, Finnegan."

A very expensive house that neither of us actually need.

"I'm going to get one in Baltimore too, will you help me pick it out and move in with me?"

What has this morning turned into?

I just barely finished my coffee and now we're talking about moving.

"Whoa, slow down there grasshopper."

"I want a garage before winter comes and honestly, I don't feel super safe in your neighborhood, Emmett. With you, of course but when I come home late at night it's... I should, probably but I don't."

"There's no reason for you to feel unsafe, Finnegan."

"You have a deal with your neighbor so no one steals your car, Emmett. And it's not THAT nice of a car," he adds.

True, it's shit but.

"We could use a bit more space. Look, you can keep your house if you want... I'm not saying you have to sell it."

I'm beating these eggs a bit harder than I need to.

I have to sell the house to help him with his, I'm not gonna live there like a kept man although look at me, I just need an apron and I'd be pretty much there.

I could probably rent mine out and use that money... this is too much for this early in the morning.

I decide to say nothing at all until I can think about it.

"Are you mad?"

"No, just have a lot of thinking to do about all of that, Finnegan."

"That's fair. I've been thinking too. I want to stay with you. I like living with you. Do you have to think about that part?"

"No, not at all. That part is perfect, darling."

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker/Platonic! Crows x fem! Reader - Silence

A/n: So I know I haven't been very active lately but hopefully that will change! Also I don't really love this fic it's not very good and I might rewrite it in the future but for now, you guys can enjoy this shit!!!

Warnings: Abuse, sexual abuse, rape, violence, mentions of death, technically mentions of suicide, THIS FIC IS A MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!!!!

Summary: They used to be happy. That’s what Jesper says anyways about his sister. When he’s asked where it all went wrong it’s usually responded with an I have no idea. When Kaz comes to confront them in front of the Crows why you came back all bloodied and carrying back a body, they know this isn’t going to end well…

Death clung to you. That's what people muttered in the streets of Ketterdam, 'if the Blackbird is on a strike don't go outside for a week and remember, pray to the saint who wears the most colour.'

Great bedtime stories for children.

Your legend would never end, though it must have begun somewhere. Someone who you decided could witness one of your killings must have made up a story. Started it up and told it in fright to someone and the people not believing a word they say. Before their dead of course. And then it spreads like the plague.

The Blackbird was once a hopeful girl, full of dreams and happiness. She had beautiful feathers of all different kinds of colours, and they sang to the heavens and it was as if she was a child of the saints. Then one day - the bird that brought kindness and sunshine to everyone's lives fell into a trap.

There was a hyena that people all thought was bad news but she thought she could help him become a better person.

The little birdy was wrong.

He hurt the bird of colours so badly that one day he burned her feathers and they became pitch black. The hyena thought that he had won at last and had gotten power over the bird.

It was said that she ran and escaped the terrible beast that day. And because he had changed her to the very soul she wasn't the same anymore, no. She was only used for revenge, and it was said she turned her backs on the saints for not saving her. When the saints did decide to intervene the little bird was shattered and could no longer sing. Her voice reduced to a vengeful whip, it was no longer beautiful but fearsome.

It was said that on that night the Blackbird used her wings on Ketterdam so she could cover the sky in darkness so the stars in the sky, the only things the saints could use to watch over mankind was blindfolded in a merciless fog.

And there the Blackbird was born.

Maybe death clung to you, but not the same way that trauma and the cruelness of the world does.

And that's a fate worse than death.

You remember strike one, you and Jesper were kids - happy kids. And the neighbour's son of was considerably older than both of you offered to babysit the one time your Da, and Ma was out.

Jesper was playing in the back, perhaps practicing shooting so he could impress your Mum but you stayed inside saying something along the lines that you wanted to cook some cookies for Dad.

How you wished you hadn't.

That teenage boy had put his filthy little hands on you. He left you in the kitchen tears running down your face and bile that you had to force back down your throat.

Your mother had found you like that and she instantly knew what had happened and she made everything much more bearable. When you had nightmares you would get up and knock on her door quietly enough for her just to hear and because your Ma was a light sleeper but your Da was not, she would get up and see you alright.

The poor woman never told her husband because you had pleaded with her not to. She always did blame herself and she made sure the boy never came around again but she did thank the saints that he didn't go all the way.

She wasn't sunshine, (she always said that was you!) No, she was the faint moonlight in the distance that helped guide you on your way home.

Then she died.

Strike two, was your mother dying. You remember that day where she went to take the poison out of that child and when she did she sucked it back into herself. In your arms was the last place your Ma took her last breath.

That was the day the world had lost its guide home and it always seemed to be in peril after that.

Strike three came almost immediately after strike two. Your father wouldn't talk to you. You became a ghost in your own house, you understood your father though,

she did die in your arms.

Jesper was the only one that didn't make strike three the last strike where the rope was at its point and snapped. He was your armour against the world, with his funny quirks and quips. He was the older brother you needed in those moments.

But armour slowly breaks over time and your dear brother wasn't getting enough out of life at the farm. So when your Father sent Jesper to Ketterdam you went right with him.

You attended college for a bit but eventually, your armour had finally left you. It broke under the stress of everything in his life that he couldn't keep up with yours.

So you meant him.

He was kind but knew when the world was being too cruel. He was wealthy, but not rich. He was sweet, but not puke up rainbows kind of way. He knew you like the back of his hand and always knew how to comfort you. Jesper had actually meant him once before he got too busy with the Dregs and said maybe he knew you too well.

You yelled at him at the time and said that was absurd! He would never do anything to hurt you!

Strike four was falling under his spell.

Strike five was when he told you terrible things about yourself and you thought he was always right. He could do no wrong in your eyes.

Strike six was when he finally started beating you and you had just expected it at this point.

Strike seven was when you weren't allowed to go to school anymore.

Strike eight was when he wouldn't let you see anyone, not even your brother. But you never questioned it, he was basically a saint to you, why would you? Besides Jesper never seemed to have time for you anyways.

Strike nine was when he cheated on you and told you you had to be better.

Strike ten was when he started raping you.

Then one day he was worse than usual and you grabbed the hot poker from the fire pit, that he had used to beat you before, and you had told him to stay away.

Then you ran.

It was the straw the broke the camel's back, it was the saints giving up on him or maybe it was the saints giving up on you.

You didn't care, you were free.

You made one promise that day, that you would never love again.

You learned quickly what Ketterdam was like even before you had meant him, so perhaps that was why it was so easy to become the Blackbird. The girl who never smiled, the girl who only lived only for revenge. The monster that will wipe your existence off of the earth like it was nothing. The ghost that will haunt you when your sins line up too high.

Eventually, you joined the dregs and you connected with your brother once again and he knew something was wrong the moment he felt your presence. He didn't believe you were the Blackbird, the girl who terrorized the streets of Ketterdam.

But he learned to accept it, they all did except for that blasted Brekker boy.

With your time in the Dregs, you had slowly begun to form something with Kaz but you quickly remembered your promise to yourself and you let him go.

Although you don't like to admit it, the Crows had become your friends - family even. You would do anything to protect them even though it didn't seem like it. You were you though, and that was being afraid to even semi-connect with them. Of course, you were, because you were growing a bit too fond of Kaz Brekker and last time that lead you to a fate worse than death.

So you distanced yourself for a while to recollect your thoughts and if you really wanted to stay with them. Did they ever manipulate you? No. Then you came back and you stayed, maybe you weren't the perfect friend or a very good one at all but the Crows knew you even considering to stay was a blessing all in itself.

They were always so patient with you even Kaz, especially Kaz, and you never gave anything in return to them. Guilt would often cloud your mind when you were near them but they were always so amazing something you could never be.

But one day they came to their breaking point.

Killing people wasn't anything new for them, much less you killing people but coming back with a bloodied body and losing contact with them for weeks was probably not the same as just 'killing.'

Jesper pulls you by your bicep into Kaz's office with the other Crows following behind. You stumble in as Kaz slams the door shut being the last one in the room. They stare at you with beady eyes almost like the ones on the infamous birds around the Slat.

"What the fuck Y/n!" Jesper finally yells. Everyone around doesn't even bother to tell him to lower his voice their faces held the same anger that Jes's did.

Silence drowns you in its ocean keeping you in its waters. A chain is wrapped around your throat as you sink deeper and deeper into its depths. You try and swim away, run like you always had before, but the weight around your neck is too heavy, too dense and it slowly drowns you.

You just shrugged your shoulders. How could you explain all that you went through? Why would you want to?

"We can't just brush this off Y/n, we always do, but you crossed a line," Wylan states calmly but firmly at the same time putting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder trying to ease the tension in the room.

You laugh, you hadn't even been walking a line at all. No, you had been jumping from rooftop to rooftop as they created a chalk line at how far you could go. Balling your hands into fits you snarl, they have been keeping you back. Maybe it's a good thing but you didn't want to admit it.

What about Kaz? A voice whispers in the back of your head.

Your eyes travel to his form in the back. He's leaning on the wall slightly but also using his cane to make himself look up-right. The darkness in the back compliments his angular features making them stand out as if saying he was above you. And to most people he probably was and he deserved that position.

But it didn't matter to you, he was just Kaz to you. Even if you saw him as someone... Important in your life, nevertheless he didn't matter. He was just another powerful man drawing a line that you couldn't cross as the line became smaller and smaller till you were trapped against a wall with nowhere to go.

When you first became the Blackbird, you climbed up that wall, you knew what was going to happen next. And you would never let anyone do that to you again.

"If you think I crossed the 'line' then your wrong." Your voice started out light-hearted (never does a fake smile crawl on your face though) but slowly became menacing and terrifying.

You spin of your heels turning to Jesper. "You've kept me in a cage giving me freedom but always locking me back up in the night."

You turn to Wylan and you mock his voice from earlier. "It was only a matter of time before I would break out." Your eyes lock onto Kaz's and your voice softens while you look at him.

"You knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. A bird needs to stretch its wings somehow."

"That doesn't mean you get to cut off communication with us for weeks than bringing in a body all bloodied. What you said before doesn't even explain why you did that Y/n," Inej says quietly.

You growl and the people closest to you jump back a little.

"Oh, what are you going to do, kick me out? Half of your businesses wouldn't have even succeeded without me!"

Jesper balls his hands into fists. "Gee for fuck's sake Y/n would just tell us!"

"HE'S THE REASON I'M A MONSTER!"

Your shout makes everyone freeze in their place and there it is again. The overbearing silence that takes over everything with its darkness. Running threw out the room, swirling around you and making it impossible for you to even hear anything other than your own terrible thoughts of madness.

But one voice isn't in your head of that hyena howling at you no, it's real and you can hear it among the darkness. You close your eyes listening in and hearing something other than darkness.

"Y/n." Your eyes snap open and you meet Kaz's eyes and you feel something dangerously close to relief.

"Everyone else out."

The Crows file out of the room one by one following Kaz's order. Everyone leaves but Jesper hesitates at the door and you see your broken armour trying to come back to you again and although it's harsh he wasn't there when he should have been. You understood that he had other problems he needed to sort out but you were his little sister.

You were supposed to stick up for each other.

"Out." Your voice would sound cold to anyone else but to Jesper, it sounds tired and unhappy. Lonely also however it has a hit of love and revenge as well.

The taller brother just sighs though and close's the door.

Kaz's eyes meet yours and your hands start to fidget with the cuffs of your bloodied shirt.

He doesn't say anything, he just stares at you. Willing you to spill information with just a glance. Any God would fall prey to those eyes and they would disclose all their knowledge while also thanking him in the end.

Kaz Brekker had something more powerful than Godly power over you.

So you couldn't help but tell him the real more dark story behind the Blackbird, he had already told you his so maybe, just maybe you could trust him.

"Do you know the Story of the Blackbird?" Your voice rings out against the muteness of the room fighting against it for once in your miserable life.

Kaz nods his head showing you that he knew. Of course, he knew it, was Brekker he probably knows every single version by heart.

"And I assume you know it's about me?"

Rolling his eyes but nodding once again.

You hesitate, knowing that after this you couldn't go back. That these next few words could change everything and why are you even telling this to the bastard of the barrel?

Because you love him.

It's simple and you promised yourself you would never love again but possibly that promise wasn't real because perhaps you never really loved that hyena. Some form of peace has definitely come from killing him, but maybe there's more to moving on from trauma than just revenge.

So with those thoughts in mind, the words tumble out of your mouth and you wouldn't be able to stop them even if you tried.

"Around the time where Jesper was just starting in the Dregs I had gotten a boyfriend. He was... Well, he was the perfect boyfriend but looking back he was too perfect. Basically fake, he was a manipulator and he knew me like the back of his hand. He knew where to press and I was under the impression that he could do nothing wrong." You pause to take a breath but you don't look up from your spot on the floor.

"It started with the small things like little insults thrown my way, but then it grew into bigger things like calling me a slut and what not. I wasn't even surprised when he started beating me."

Your eyes slowly come off the floor and they travel up Kaz's body but never meeting his eyes. You didn't want to see the disappointment that would be held in those eyes. That was inevitable.

"Then every day it started to get worse till he-" You cut yourself off and your legs wobble underneath you and as you collapsed Kaz jetted out and caught you before you could fall.

Tears were running down your face as you gripped Kaz's shirt as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bed. He place's you down and slides in beside you yet there was a good distance between the two of you. But it still gave you comfort and for the first time in a while, you didn't question why it did, you just went with it already knowing the reason why.

You loved him it was as simple as that.

"Then he-" You choked on a sob again and you bring your knees to your chest.

"You don't have to say it." He says gently nothing like what that hyena used to do to you.

"Noah used to rape me." The words come out in a blur and the tight feeling in your chest slowly falls apart and for the first time in a while, you truly feel like a Blackbird - free. Stuttering to breathe in a realization comes to your mind; Noah that monster will never hurt you ever again.

"Oh, my Saints! He's dead!" You cover your mouth with your hand and you lean back onto the headboard tears of happiness smear down your face. You don't laugh though but you feel even clearer than before. You could get used to this feeling.

Slowly you look over to Kaz and you realize the two of you were broken souls beyond repair and maybe just maybe that's what you needed. Perhaps that's what you both need, each other.

"Thank you." You whisper and the ends of Kaz's mouth curl's up a bit into what looks like is almost a smile but not quite. You would get there too one day.

===========TIME SKIP 4 Months======================

You jump from the rooftop gliding through the air and landing on the window sill of Kaz's office. You tilt your head to the side affectionately as you see The Crows getting ready for a heist only they're really just fooling around. Everyone but Kaz of course, he's in his desk chair drawing out some maps.

And they tell you you overwork! Hypocrites.

You open the window silently and you slip into the room unnoticed. You tiptoe over to Kaz's desk and you leap on top.

Kaz raises his eyebrow at you and you just shrug your shoulders, he probably had to stop anyways.

"You know there are other ways to get my attention other than acting like a child?"

"Oh, I know this is just more effective." You playfully respond.

Before Kaz could continue with the banter Jesper interject's just realizing you were here grabbing everyone's attention and placing it on you. Still not a fan of that.

"How the hell did you get from that rooftop to that window!" Jesper points outside in a slightly worried, big brother voice.

So you look him dead in the eyes and say; "I flew."

Jesper laughs along with the rest of The Crows but they stop at your deadpan look on your face.

"You didn't really?!"

"No, I didn't." You roll your eyes, "I didn't even think you knew that I did that."

Jesper comes over and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you immediately tense up.

"I do know some tricks! I am your older brother after all." His tone does get a few octaves of sombre at the end remembering the memories of how he didn't protect you before. But he's here now so you guess that's all matter's now.

You scoot off the desk out of his arm range but you do send him a sorry glance. The memories were just too much to handle sometimes. He just sends me a tiny knowing smile and nods and walk's off quietly (for the first time in his life) over to Wylan.

You watch everyone interact and it almost brings a smile to your face but something is missing and you wonder what it is.

Your question is quickly answered though as Kaz stands up beside you. His ungloved hand slowly garb's onto yours's and slowly you intertwine your fingers together.

"You really are the leader of a bunch of idiots." You say as Nina dares your brother to down a whole bucket paint.

"Yes, that's what it seems."

"But we love them." And for the first time in a while, you smile and it's not full-blown, it's tiny yet it has the whole galaxy in there.

"Yes, Yes I do." But Kaz isn't looking at The Crows he's looking at you.

Words 3517

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover

[krethes]

Smutty Saturday

I missed free-for-all/fuck-it-Friday, so here's an extra-long lil dose of smut and old-man Wolfstar banter from Chapter 1 of Heatwave. 18+ below the cut.

[Remus] thinks Sirius is going to deposit him onto the couch or haul him upstairs, something of that nature. He does not expect Sirius to flop him over his shoulder, his head on-level with his phenomenal arse in those too-short linen shorts, and carry him out the front door. Remus wiggles and protests his nakedness, though they live on a beach armed to the teeth with Notice-Me-Not charms and protective wards, renewed every spring by their godson. Sirius ignores him and trots straight out past their walk-up, over sandy dunes, and right to the water's edge.

The sun is relentless in the sky, blisteringly white and unfettered by clouds. It dries the sweat on Remus's skin, but does nothing to abate the heatstroke he feels is imminent. Sirius skirts the foamy shore doggedly, Remus can see the waves lap at his feet. "Padfoot, I really don't think you need to-- Hera's whorehouse!" Remus shrieks, completely undignified, as he's slung into the surf.

It's July and there's a heatwave, but the English Channel has never been the most comfortable place for a swim. Cold saltwater envelops him and grips him tight, forcing the air from his lungs and sending his heart rate skyrocketing beyond what his Healer would call "an acceptable range". His limbs are leaden, heavy and slow, but only for a moment before instinct and a lifetime of practice kicks in and he surfaces, swearing roundly, his hair plastered to his skull and teeth chattering. "Sirius Black, you rotter!" he shouts, reverting back to his original name out of shock, trying to seem menacing even though he knows he looks absurd.

Sirius is on the sand, hands on his well-defined knees as he laughs at the drowned rat he married. The sound battles with the crashing of the waves but reaches Remus as he wades to the shore with careful, purposeful strides. If Sirius sees him through his watery-eyed guffawing, he doesn't show it, and yelps when Remus shakes his whole body, not unlike Padfoot, flinging icy droplets onto Sirius's dry, warm clothes.

"Cooler now, Moony?" Sirius taunts, taking several quick, suddenly nervous steps back. He's smiling like a schoolboy and Remus wants to wipe it off his face. He advances, slowly, watching Sirius's eyes more than his feet. They are pale in the sunlight, the iris nearly all-consuming as he squints against the sun, pupils contracted, and wary of the beast stalking him. "Uh… Moony…" he stammers after many long seconds stretch between them. He scuttles backwards on the sand a little more and Remus follows with a lupine grace he wishes he'd had as a younger man.

Sirius swallows and Remus strikes. He lunges forward and grabs Sirius around his middle and drags him across the sand, thrashing and laughing and swearing. "Moony, Moonpie, Moonage Daydream don't do this- don't- no!!- ack, Moons over Miami, I've just washed my own hair, you absolute-!!!"

Whatever Remus absolutely was, he doesn't hear, because Sirius's protests turn into yodeling barks and Remus has an armful of mostly-black dog, who is a lot slipperier than his human alternative. Padfoot wriggles out of his hold and nips at Remus's heels, barking incessantly as he kicks up sand. Remus's attack is weakened by fits of giggles -- there's a glistening, fat strand of saliva over Padfoot's muzzle and he's absolutely covered in sand and tiny pebbles by the time Remus sinks to his knees on the beach, out of breath.

Padfoot throws his head back and lolls his tongue out, red against gleaming white teeth, laughing at Remus in his doggy way. "You still need another bath," Remus points out. Padfoot is covered in seafoam and salt and sand, and when he Shifts back into Sirius, he is, too.

Sirius pitches forward on his knees and kisses Remus soundly, hands on his arse and pink tongue delving into his mouth. Remus, after a moment of surprised pause, pulls him close by his hair and sighs happily against his lips. He tastes like toothpaste and sea salt, and the soft puffs against his cheek have Remus reconsidering… he was cooler now, after all that. Sirius’s lips quickly tempt him to sinful decisions, and before Remus can really decide, he’s on his back in the sand with Sirius between his legs.

“Mmm,” Sirius murmurs against his thigh, lapping the salt from the soft hair that grows in uneven patches around thick, overlapping scars. “Never properly greeted you after the show I came home to,” he continues, chuckling darkly as Remus squirms below him.

The sand is white-hot under Remus’s back, but it pales in comparison to the coil of heat pooling low in his belly as Sirius leaves sharp, wet sparks of pain on the tender skin as his gentle ministrations turn hungry. Remus lets his legs fall apart, buries his fingers into the sand to keep from grabbing hold of Sirius’s hair, and submits to the ravenous assault.

Sirius takes his time unraveling him, laves his tongue around the head of his cock with intentional slowness, drawing out thick bursts of breath and yes please from Remus with each minute that stretches between them. When Sirius finally drags his pillow-plush lips around Remus's aching erection, Remus exhales his relief with the barest hint of a whine crackling through. “Merlin, Sirius,” he whispers, grasping at the sand helplessly as Sirius devours another several inches of him.

Sirius hums appreciatively at the praise and Remus spares a look down at him -- lips stretched wide and perfect around his shaft, his nose nestled into his dark curls, his knees braced wide and his linen-covered arse shoved in the air. His dark, wavy hair is wet and clings to his head and shoulders, dripping rivulets of ocean water down his face and onto Remus’s overheated skin to mix with the sweat and saliva, and when he flicks his eyes up to meet Remus’s, he nearly comes then and there. He’s all his, Remus thinks, tracing every line on Sirius’s face with his eyes and feeling, not for the first time, certainly, incredibly fortunate.

Sirius pulls back with a lewd pop and fixes Remus with an admonishing frown. “You’re thinking too much, Moony,” he scolds, wrapping his hand around Remus’s cock with a tut, stroking in a punishingly fast pace that has Remus’s breath leaving him in fast pants. “I must not be doing a good enough job,” Sirius adds, smirking, before dropping back down and swallowing his cock in one fluid movement.

Remus’s spine arches, a deep ache he feels in every torn muscle of his back, but the pleasure coursing through him at the hot, tight squeeze of Sirius’s throat is enough to push everything from his mind except for the low, happy rumbling of the ever-present wolf, satisfied at this tribute. Sirius lets him thrust a little, fucking into his mouth with indulgent undulations, and when Remus comes, it’s a sweet, gentle push over the edge that leaves him flushed and breathless.

Sirius swallows his release with familiar gusto and climbs his way up Remus’s body with only minimal joint popping, kissing Remus’s fluttering pulse point at his throat, the sharp jut of his jaw, the corners of his mouth, his cheeks in such tender devotion, Remus feels he may burst with emotion. Remus winds a lazy hand through the soggy tangles of his hair and smiles as Sirius melts into the gesture, as malleable in his hands as putty. When Remus raises his leg to press between Sirius’s thighs at the cock straining at his shorts, Sirius shakes his head and rolls off to the side.

“Not all of us are licentious enough to get blown in broad daylight on the beach, Mister Moony,” Sirius taunts, cackling at Remus’s offended shout and shielding his eyes from the sand Remus shoves his way. “Yes, I think I’ll take my payment in the privacy of our shower, ta very much,” he continues, getting to his feet and brushing sand from his clothes, a gesture that is altogether fruitless. It gets everywhere.

“You mean the broken shower,” Remus points out, still stretched out in the sand, trying to find the motivation to move, his already low desire to do anything productive today even lower now that he basks in the afterglow of a Sirius-sponsored orgasm.

“Bollocks.” Sirius groans and looms over Remus, blocking out the harsh whiteness of the sun with his body. “Alright, you layabout, you’ve cooled off, you’ve gotten a phenomenal blowie, if I do say so myself, time to pull your weight around here!” He grabs hold of Remus’s bony wrists and hauls him to his feet with sharp barks of laughter when Remus protests. They wobble a bit, but Sirius's body is firm and strong enough to support Remus's teetering bulk.

“But Padfoot, I’m so old,” he moans uselessly, knowing the smile on his face is giving him away.

“Excuse you, you’re younger than me!”

“Exactly.”

Sirius gasps and swats Remus’s arse with a quick flash of his hand, looking truly offended. “I beg your pardon, Moony Remus John Lupin, you did not just insinuate that I am an old man!” His hands are overlapped at his throat and Remus laughs at the sight -- like a fair lady clutching her pearls, he is, the very picture of indignant narcissism.

Remus leans in towards him and catches his face between his large hands, kissing the scowling lips with his own scarred ones, laughing still against his mouth.

“It’s not funny, Moony!” Sirius shouts, pouting, an utterly ridiculous gesture for a fifty-six-year-old man.

“Alright, alright,” Remus concedes, cooing, biting his bottom lip hard to keep from bursting into laughter again, smothering his smile. “Here, as an apology… I will help you fix the shower.”

Sirius snorts, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “So gracious of you, your highness,” he mocks, but lets Remus lead him by the hand back into the house.

[pogueit]

First Aid Kit

Paring: Pope Heyward x Reader

Summary: You have an accident while attempting to do a new trick and Pope is the man for the job.

Warnings: blood ofc and general first aid stuff nothing too graphic tho!!

WC: 1,994

A/N: There's not enough Pope content!! SO I made some!! Pls enjoy some Pope and Y/N action!

THE GIF IS NOT MINE IT BELONGS TO @rue-bennett !!!!

Saturdays are not meant to be boring, but this scorching afternoon there was nothing to do. John B. went on his weekly date with Sarah, JJ scored a date with a kook he's been eyeing, and Kie was forced to go to a gala on the mainland, so it was just you and Pope alone in the chateau. He had been studying all day for an upcoming chemistry exam he has first thing Monday morning. You tried all day to get his head out of the books, but he was not having any of it. It wasn't until the late afternoon that you got him to go outside with you. Even though his nose was still deep in the piles of notes at least he was outside. You were skating on a horrifically uneven stretch of concrete that was oddly slathered in front of the chateau. Every time he could hear the wheels pop upwards he would snap his eyes to you, cheering you on when you stuck the landing. You were glad that he was far enough away to not be able to see how red your cheeks were. You've had a massive crush on the boy ever since Kie introduced you to the group. Your mom had just moved your ass down to the banks to get a fresh start far away from your poor excuse for a father. She managed to quickly score a job at The Wreck (where you were also forced to work part-time) as head chef. Your mom got on well with the Carrera's who only deemed it appropriate to force their daughter to hang out with you, being new in town and all. Kie wasn’t bothered at all and was glad to have another girl around. After hanging out with her for a single day, you wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for her. Kiara didn't introduce you to the knuckleheads right away, since she had taken a liking to you and didn't want to scare you away. The day that she did you remembered Pope had been the last one to say "hey" yet his was the warmest. After that day your stomach would erupt with butterflies whenever you'd even look at him and you would nearly die when your hands would brush against each other in passing. There was just something about him. Maybe it was how he didn't believe in stupid questions, except for JJ's of course, or how he would learn a new subject just to be able to help one of you ace an exam. It could be how the sun sparkled against his wet skin after a long day of swimming or surfing. How relaxed he looks sitting in the driver's seat of the HMS Pogue taking in all that the sun had to offer. You were glad the rest of the crew hadn't caught on yet, especially JB since he's already taken the role as your big brother, even though you're sure that you’re definitely older than him. He would never let you hear the end of it if he knew. The constant pestering, nudging, and side-eyeing would have driven you insane. Your mind slowly drifted back to the boy studying a few feet away from you. The thoughts of those hot summer nights in the cool water with him clouded your brain, so much so you nearly wiped out.

"You good!?" Pope's concerned voice made your head snap in his direction. You knew that the embarrassment on your face was very telling but you just shot him two thumbs up and got back on your board. You shake off any remaining thoughts from your head before attempting your new trick. You were sick and tired of random strangers, but mostly JJ and JB, yelling at you to do a kickflip whenever you were skating. After watching countless videos on kickflips you were basically an expert on them at this point and all you had to do now was actually stick the landing. You slid your right foot to the middle of the board so that your heel was just off the edge while your toes rested in the middle. You shifted your left foot to the tail of the deck and with all the strength you could muster you push down on the tail while your right foot flicked down on the edge of the board. It would have been a spectacular landing if it weren't for the random-ass pebble that your wheel landed on.

"Oh fuck, are you alright!?" Pope was by your side before you even realized you were on the ground. Falling came with the game and you were not fazed at all, since you've had grislier wipeouts than this, but that's before you saw the fountain of blood that poured out of your knee.

"Yeah, I'm fine dude-- I've had-- I need to--The bathroom--" you hobbled quickly into the bathroom at the chateau trying your darndest to not get any blood in the house. By the time you were able to sit down on the toilet, you were seeing stars. Your vision was slowly fading to black and you felt like you were going to vomit. You closed your eyes tightly as you pressed a clump of toilet paper to your knee, which pulled a hiss right from your lungs at the sensation. Promptly, you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from letting out a scream. A light knock came from the door and it couldn't be anyone else but Pope.

"Are you alright in there y/n?" From all the pain you were in you could only hum out a yes as a response, but you knew that would not be a good enough answer for the boy.

"Yeah, just don't--" before you could even finish your sentence he barged in "--open the door, why don't ya". His eyes grew wide at the bloody mess you made in the bathroom, but then quickly softened at the sight of you. Your skin was flushed with developing perspiration clinging to your skin and your lips had gone pale as your lungs suddenly only knew how to hyperventilate.

"Uh, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to say that it looks like a slasher flick was filmed in here" his words made you squeeze your eyes tighter as bloody images flashed before you and it only got harder for you to breathe. Pope stepped inside the rather small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He picked up all the toilet paper you had used for your leg and tossed them into the trash bin before he crouched down next to you.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, as if you would shatter if he spoke any louder. All you could muster was a tiny nod as the pain took up most of your energy. His hands then gently pried your hands off of your injured knee and inspected it. Since the cut had almost stopped bleeding completely, Pope, was able to see that the wound was deep but not enough for it to garner any stitches and it was free of any debris. Lucky for you because JB had fallen there a couple of weeks ago and Pope had to whip out the tweezers to get all the gravel out of the bloody gash.

"Hey, it's not that bad-- I mean it is bad but it could be worse-- I'm gonna clean it now" the boy got to his feet and helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub with your feet sitting inside the tub. He then washed his hands furiously to avoid infection and gathered all the supplies he needed which consisted of antibacterial soap, antibiotic cream, gauze pads, gauze rolls, and unconditional love and support. Pope helped you undo both your shoes and removed them along with your embarrassing Winnie the Pooh socks. He sat with his legs outside the tub to have easy access to the supplies. After he checked to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold Pope moved your leg so your knee was underneath the faucet. The wound's contact with the water wasn't as bad as you thought, but it could’ve been you were distracted by his soothing touches as he held you close to him. Pope was careful not to get any of the soap in the cut just on the surrounding area and when he was finished he made sure to clean the rest of your blood-caked leg up as well. Once you were all cleaned up, he padded your leg dry before he attempted to put ointment on the tender flesh.

"Is it going to hurt?" You squeaked as he retrieved the ointment from the countertop.

"It might sting, but it shouldn't, '' he reassured you, as he brought the ointment-covered q-tip to your knee, but you couldn't help that your knee-jerked away from his touch.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Y/n, I haven't even touched you yet"

"I know, I know, sorry"

"I promise it won't hurt, y/n, and if it does you can punch me or something" even if it did hurt that bad you couldn’t imagine hurting Pope in any way. He once again leaned back in with the q-tip and sure enough, it wasn't painful at all. The ointment soothed the burning sensation of the area which finally allowed you to relax. He then carefully put a gauze pad on the injury, before wrapping your knee securely with gauze. You slid off the edge of the grimy porcelain tub and onto the ground while Pope stood next to the sink and neatly tucked everything back into the first aid kit.

"Uh, thanks--" your words got lost in your throat when your eyes met his warm eyes "--um, dude?" You felt stupid when it came out as a dumbfounded question and the heat quickly rose to your cheeks. If it was any time for you to die you wish it would have happened right then.

"Yeah, any time, y/n" he shot an endearing smile in your direction and you've never wanted to kiss a man so much before in your life.

You both let the awkwardness settle over you. The two of you riddled with hesitancy, but quietly yearned to confess your feelings to one another. He needed to get out of there. Pope gave you a curt nod and a tight smile, but as he headed towards the door there was vacillation in his movements. Before you lost sight of him from the doorway, he turned back around determined.

"Y/N, I gotta--" you were soon on your feet as the last bit of courage you had for your lifetime allowed you to meet him halfway. He didn't bother finishing his sentence as he decided his actions would speak for him. Pope cupped your face in his soft hands and crashed your lips together. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever experienced before. His plump lips gilded confidently over your timid ones. As the fire inside of you diminished your shyness you shifted yourself forward onto your tippy toes to deepen the kiss. Your movements caused you to pin Pope against the bathroom wall and you could feel him smile against your lips. His velvet tongue dragged against your bottom lip for permission to explore you further and you were more than eager to let him.

"Fucking finally!" The familiar voice of the rowdy klepto caught you guys by surprise causing both of you to jump away from each other.

"I guess I'm forty bucks richer, I knew you had it in ya, Pope!" JJ beamed as he walked towards the two of you and you playfully rolled your eyes at the blonde-haired boy.

"Fuck off!" Pope giggled and slammed the door in JJ's face before he turned to face you.

"Now, where were we?"

[impala-dreamer]

I'm not a writer but here's my best try at a 'comfort fic.' hope you like it.

Jensen x Becca

"Fuck! Not again!" Becca grunted, throwing her computer on the floor of her bedroom. The fragile bundle of plastic, metal and glass landing with a less than satisfying thud. Becca had half a mind to take it outside to the garage and beat the damn thing with a hammer until nothing remained.

She begrudgingly dragged herself from her bed, stepping over the object, fighting the urge to stomp on it, as she made her way out of her bedroom.

"Oh, hey." Becca said opening her door to her roommate, Jensen, with his hand in midair about to knock.

"Hey, uh, you okay? What was that thud? You stub your toe or somethin'?" He inquired with a cheeky grin, that is until he seen the unimpressed expression on her face. His tone then became much softer, softer than she was used to. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Becca closed her eyes with a sigh, before releasing the flood gates, and airing her frustration to the emerald eyes staring back at her.

"Nothing, it's just my laptop, it's been messing up for a while now, and it just quit on me. Like completely dead. And now I have no way to do any of my work, or write my stories. Which means I'm gonna be even more broke this week because I'm gonna miss all my deadlines. Which also means I can't afford another computer which will put me even more behind and I'm never gonna catch up, and I'm just so, so very so tired. And-"

"Hey, hey, calm down for a second and take a deep breath." Jensen said, gently cupping her cheek, running his thumb across her cheekbone.

Becca complied.

"Okay, and another."

He paused while she took another deep breath.

"Good. Now come here." Jensen smiled as he pulled Becca into his chest. One hand came up to cradle the back of her head, as the other wrapped around her lower back pulling her body flush to his own.

For a long moment he said nothing, gently rocking her while they stood there in the doorway of her bedroom. It wasn't long before Becca burst into tears, crying into his neck as he held her close.

See it wasn't just the stupid laptop eating away at her, actually it was everything. Lately it just seemed like the world was closing in on her. Becca's anxiety had been through the roof for weeks now, and she just couldn't take it anymore.

Not to mention the fact that she was in love with her best friend, who was in love with someone else. Standing there in his arms crying her eyes out, she allowed herself to imagine that he loved her the way she loved him.

She was almost able to believe it, but she knew better.

"Okay listen, here's what we're gonna do-" he started, leaning away from her so he could look into her eyes, wiping away her tears. "I'm gonna go run you a bath with some of that bubbly shit you like, and you're gonna go in there and relax for a while."

"Jensen you don't have to do that, I can run my own bath." Becca sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"I know you can, that's not the point. Now go find some clothes to put on, and I'll go get it ready. Ok?" He confirmed. Becca just nodded, and he grinned before kissing her head and walking off towards the bathroom.

'Stupid, sweet boy.' she thought to herself, opening her dresser to gather her things.

Ten minutes passed before Jensen called her into the bathroom, and when Becca entered she couldn't believe her eyes.

He had done more than just prepare a bath for her. No, he had set the scene entirely.

He had lit candles, and sprinkled rose petals along the floor and over the bubbles in the bathtub. There was a bottle of wine and a wine glass sitting on the counter, and her favorite song was playing from the bluetooth speaker.

"Jensen.. wow." She breathed, already feeling like she may cry again.

"Ah, it's nothing." He dismissed, rubbing the back of his neck and nibbling on his full bottom lip.

"Nothing.. what? Jensen this is beautiful. No one's ever done anything for me, remotely as sweet as this before." She said, gesturing around the room.

"Well.. I'm glad you like it, darlin', enjoy. I'll let you know when dinners ready." Jensen stepped around her, kissing her temple, before closing the door behind himself.

Now Becca's head was swimming with thoughts of what that means. It's not that it's unusual for Jensen to kiss her head, but he'd never done it twice in one day, let alone in ten minutes.

Becca got undressed, clipped her hair up, and slowly eased her aching body into the scorching hot water, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips.

She inhaled the thick scent of lavander as her eyes drifted shut, relishing in the feeling of her entire body relaxing all at once.

It wasn't long before she was fast asleep, the wine long forgotten on the counter. Before she knew it Jensen was gently knocking on the door with the promise of delicious food right down the hallway.

As Becca entered the kitchen, her mouth once again hit the floor.

Jensen had once again set the scene. He'd dimmed the lights, lit candles, put on some quiet music in the background, and the dinner he'd made for the two of them was spread out on the table.

"Omg, what's all this?" She gasped, eyes as big as saucers.

"Oh nothing really, just trying to help ya relax, ya know? Come sit."

Becca slowly walked to the table, becoming even more confused when he pulled the seat out for her, sliding it under her as she sat down.

"Again, Jensen, this is not nothing." She almost whispered, not even sure if he'd heard her until he sat down across from her.

"Just enjoy this will ya? It's no big deal, I just hate seeing you so stressed out, especially when something as simple as this will make you feel better. Hopefully, anyways."

Becca nodded, looking at the juicy burger and crispy fries in front of her, hearing her stomach rumble at the thought of food.

They both sat in comfortable silence as they ate. Becca constantly wondering what had gotten into him. Why was he being so sweet? It's not unlike him to care, but grand gestures like this? Fucking weird.

Occasionally the pair would make eye contact and they'd both smile a little, but they never spoke.

When dinner was over Jensen took their plates to the sink before coming back over to Becca, taking her hand.

"Come with me." Jensen said pulling her to her feet.

He quietly led them to his bedroom, making her close her eyes before he opened his door. He led her into the center of his room and let go of her hand.

"Okay. Open em'."

Becca opened her eyes to see that Jensen had set up his bed with every pillow in the house, her weighted blanket folded up at the foot of his bed, a basket full of the candy they keep in the kitchen was on his nightstand, and her favorite movie was up on his tv.

This time when Becca seen what Jensen had set up, she'd had enough.

"Whadaya think? Movies and cuddles sound good?" He asked, as he slid his arm around her shoulders, leaning in to ONCE AGAIN kiss her temple.

Becca pulled away, taking a large step backwards.

"Jensen enough, what are you doing? This is so weird. What's going on?" She huffed.

"Becca, I told you already I'm just trying to help you relax."

Becca couldn't even stand to look at him. Here he was doing something that was incredibly meaningful for her, but to him it was no big deal? This is what she'd always wanted, especially from him, but not in the way she'd hoped. This was too big, it was like rubbing it in her face that this man, who's done these amazing things for her, would never truly be hers.

"Jensen. I.. I think I just need to lie down. Thank you for all this, but I just need some sleep." Becca turned and started for the door, trying to get away from him before the tears in her eyes could fall..but Jensen stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm.

"Becca come on, just one movie? Please?"

Becca couldn't look at him, couldn't even speak, and with a gentle tug of her arm, she walked out of his room.

But, to her dismay, Jensen followed.

Becca didn't have the energy to fight him, and as she entered her room, she left the door open behind her. Sure enough, he followed, closing the door behind him.

"Becca please, tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong."

Becca still hadnt looked at him.

"Nothing's wrong Jensen, I'm just tired." She replied weakly.

"Bullshit. You're crying. Why?"

She couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Because Jensen! Because you're too fucking perfect. I know you're just trying to make me feel better but it means more than that to me." She yelled, finally facing him. "Because you mean more to me than you should, and I can't handle you doing things like that for me, because I know you're not doing it for the reason I want you to be." She finished quietly.

"Sweetheart-"

"Stop calling me that," she shot back.

"Becca. What are you saying?" Jensen asked quietly.

"You don't love me. And when you do stuff like all this, it makes me feel like you do. And I can't take it."

"Don't love you? What the fuck?" Jensen snapped, anger and confusion flooding his system. "I did all this BECAUSE I love you."

"Not like I love you." Becca whispered, tears falling freely down her face.

"And how exactly is that?" He asked, taking a slow step towards her.

"Shit Jensen, you really gonna make me spell it out for you?? I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU." She cried.

Jensen grinned. Actually GRINNED at her.

"Becca, I'm in love with you too, sweetheart. Always have been. I mean shit, literally since the day we met."

"What?" Becca asked dumbly.

"You heard me."

Becca felt dizzy, and her knees felt weak, just as she started to buckle, Jensen caught her. He scooped her up into his arms bridal style, and took her back to his room.

Jensen gently laid Becca on his bed, covering her up with her weighted blanket before climbing in beside her.

He leaned over her and planted a wet kiss on her forehead, before repeating the action on the top of her nose, before finally connecting their lips for the first time.

They kisses for a long moment before Becca suddenly pulled away.

"Wait. You're in love with me??"

Jensen just laughed.

"Yes baby, come here."

Becca cuddled into Jensens side, laying her head on his chest, knee across his groin, breathing in his delicious cologne.

"Get some sleep babygirl, we'll talk about this in the morning, and see about getting you a new laptop, okay?"

Becca didn't even try to argue with him because she knew it would do absolutely no good.

"Okay," she sighed.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Jensen."

And together they drifted off into blissfull sleep.

<3333

[arans-princess]

I wanna play

Sakusa-nii x reader x atsumu

Degradation, rough sex, spitting, cnc, this gets dark yall, light somno. Poly relationship

-  Omi-nii doesn’t like most people except you, you are the only exception, he loves his little sister to death. He would do anything to keep you happy. 

- He doesn’t like bodily fluids unless they come from you, everything you do is so adorable to him, you’re his Imōto

- The way you whine as he eats out your cute little cunny, music to his ears

- The way you claw at his back as his thick cock splits you open, is so sweet. He knows his dick it too big for you, but the way you tell him you’re a big girl and you can take it, any thing for nii-chan; makes his cock throb. 

-  The way you babble and drool as he fucks you silly, your eyes rolling back as he bounces you on his dick, one large calloused hand around your throat using it as leverage. The other holds you at your hip with a bruising grip as he plows into you. 

-  The bathroom sink is frigid on your feverish body, but it does nothing to quell the heat inside you. He applies just enough pressure to your neck so that you're looking at yourself in the mirror. 

- He gladly pounds your third orgasm out of you, his hips unrelenting as the post game adrenaline has flooded his veins. Gosh, when they said he was a part of the generation of monsters they weren’t kidding. 

“Omi-nii, ugh, fuck I-I Im gonna cum!” you babble through strangled moans, your pulse pounding in your head as his thick fingers press against the sides of your throat, cutting off blood supply to your brain. Drunk off the pleasure, you can feel your head swimming, drowning in the sensation of his fat cock brushing against your sweet spot, the cold counter digging into you adds to your pleasure. 

“Yes, you can y/n-chan, yes you can. C’mon, be my good girl, cum on for me, cum for your nii-chan.” he bends down, leaning into your neck and bites. Leaving a trail of marks from your collarbone to your ear. “Just a little more for me, baby” the hand on your hip travels to your clit and rubs tight circles on your overused bud. His hips still as he increases the pace of his fingers. “You're clamping down so hard, baby girl, you gonna squirt for me?” he looks up at your blissed out expression, your legs are trembling, arms desperately clinging to the arm attached to your throat. 

“Omi, please I wanna taste you.” You mewl out clawing at his forearm, nails digging deep into his veiny flesh. Somehow, he takes you to heights unknown as his cock throbs in your wet heat. Now that he stopped thrusting you can feel your cunt pulsing, your slick is dripping down your ass onto the sink below making your ass slippery; you would have slid off, if not for you big brother supporting you, such a good brother. The hand on your throat migrates to your chin gripping it harshly, prying open your mouth. His face draws closer to yours as he gathers a glob of saliva and plops on to your tongue. You hold it in there waiting for him to give you permission to swallow, both of your fluids mingling in your mouth. Tongue twitching in anticipation, your eyes meet his in a silent plea. 

“Swallow princess. Be a good girl and squirt for me, c’mon” he coos while looking at your fucked out face; eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream. With his encouragement you let go of the knot building in your belly, and all at once fluid gushes out of your cunt as he continues to rub your clit, working you through this mind numbing orgasm like a good big brother. Not even the groaning coming from one of the stalls can snap you out of this bliss.

“Holy fuck Omi-kun, I didn’t know she could squirt!” Both of your heads snap in the direction of the voice in search of the owner. Omi is shocked to find the owner, it’s Tsumu, his teammate. Oh fuck. “Poor little y/n-chan too fucked out on your brother's cock to care? Look at you. You look so fucking pathetic. You like when your big brother uses you like a toy? Don’t you?” Tsumu teases while inspecting your used body, he’s right. You’re covered in drool, cum is seeping out of your puffy cunt. You’re a mess. But you’re Nii-chan’s mess, right? “So this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to play with your toy. You can watch or leave, I don’t really care. Unless you want me to tell the press you fuck your baby sister like a whore? You can kiss your career goodbye. Yeah it would suck to have you off the team but; rumor has it, this Kyōtani Kentarō kid is being scouted for the team next year. I would love to set for him. Hate to see you go though.” That damn smirk never leaves his face, and he doesn't take his eyes off you, not even for a second. You can feel nii-chan stiffen between your legs as the realization hits him. He has to comply if he wants to keep your lives from derailing. 

“Fine,” Omi spits, “can I finish here first? I'm still hard.” his question is harsh, you can practically see steam coming from his ears, his face that was already red from the exertion deepened. His chest is still heaving, but you can't tell if it's from anger or not. It most likely is. This anger is only intensified with blond’s response. “ Yeah no. I want my payment now.” the blonde chuckles, looking very pleased with himself. Omi’s grip on your body tightens immensely, painfully even, yet somehow through this exchange you have not come to terms with what's happening quite yet. It's not until Omi withdraws from your heat that you understand the gravity of the situation. Your relationship has been found out, after years of being so careful, this is what happens. All because you couldn't keep your greedy little hands to yourself. You should feel more responsible but you can't bring yourself to. You're too far gone, trapped in your own mind, locked away in subspace. 

Next thing you know Tsumu plunges into your heat roughly and sets a brutal pace from the start. His cock isn’t the same and nii-chans, it's not as long. It doesn’t hammer into your cervix, but it's twice as thick, and the stretch burns. It’s not a good burn, it hurts. You dont like Tsumu fucking you. You're not his toy, you belong to nii-chan, not his teammate. You look over at Omi and see him standing in the corner. His cock is still hard and throbbing, the tip is a bright red, and he looks so ready to burst. ”Nii-chan, make him stop, I-I don't like him inside me. H-hurts, it hurts.” you croak out, attempting to reach out for him. The sight breaks his heart in two, he wants nothing more than to fling that shit-head off of his precious baby sister, but he can’t. He takes a half step towards you then stops himself, knowing if he interrupts his career is over, and with that so is your life of comfort. He simply can't have that. Omi swallows his pride and tries to tune out your wails of anguish as Tsumu defiles you, but your cries only get louder and louder as he continues. 

“Such a slut, aren't you y/n-chan? This little hole just weeps for anyone doesn't it?” Tsumu questions while leaning in your face, breath fanning over you. The rank smell of coffee assaults your nostrils, making you try and turn away, but he roughly snatches your face back to look at him. His fingers are roughly digging into your cheeks and the pressure forces your jaw open. Your eyes widen in fear as you realize what is about to happen. He hocks a fat glob of spit inside your pliant mouth, the look in his eyes tells you to swallow or risk harsher treatment. So with fat tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, you do as he asks. The pounding never ceases as he beams brightly down at you. His smile, one you once found endearing, now makes your stomach turn, and you close your eyes and hope for him to finnish quickly. 

“Aht aht aht, c’mon princess, look at me. Look at me and be grateful that someone is stuffing your stupid little cunt at all.” he chuckles as he thrusts harder into your womb, the stretch doesn’t burn like it did before, as your body finally adjusted to his massive girth. Reluctantly you open your eyes and look at his figure looming above you. He’s drenched in sweat and his face is flushed with exertion. He looks almost appealing like this, with his eyebrows furrowed, eyes blown wide in lust and some other emotion, hate? No, it doesn't bite the same. Its- its love. 

Love? He loves you? Oh yeah that's right , when Omi joined the team and brought you around to meet the team, he made it a point to keep Tsumu far away from you. One time Tsumu had managed to snag you away from the group, and while you don't remember much about that night, you do know that Omi was really mad about it. Omi said he was flirting but you didn't even realize it. The whole time you only had eyes for your Nii-chan. That must be why he was lurking in the bathroom. Now that you’re thinking, Atsumu was always around when you two would run off, and you always felt another set of eyes watching you… oh yeah, that’s right… You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you feel a pressure on your clit. The rough pads of his fingers circle your clit, you can feel the calluses on your sensitive nub throwing you over the edge into yet another orgasm. You claw at his back, unconsciously pulling him into you. The way your pussy clamps down on his length makes him gasp, professing his love in your ear as he shoots his load into you. But they dont say he is a part of the generation of monsters for nothing, he doesn't stop his relentless pace, pushing all of his cum out of you. Your vision starts to get blurry, between the tears and the haze of overstimulation taking over. You can hear Omi get angry somewhere in the back of your head, but it sounds far away, like he’s yelling underwater. 

You feel your body tense up for yet another orgasm and then your vision cuts out. When you come to, Atsumu is still fucking you, but the pleasure is gone. It’s too much, and when you register this you start fighting back, pushing his face off your neck, shoving his shoulders back to try and dislodge him. Then you hear him chuckle darkly. 

“Don't worry y/n-chan, I'll be done shortly, I was able to cum a few more times when you went to sleep on me. Did you know you cum even when you pass out?” he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. You look over to the side and see your big brother sitting in the corner. You look in his eyes and see barely contained rage. The fire in them looks like it could melt a diamond. Tsumu lifts your shirt to take a nipple in his mouth as he cums, sheathing himself in your heat completely, filling you up beyond what you thought was possible. 

Your legs start to give out and Omi notices this, he rushes to your side to hold you up-right. “ATSUMU, I told you to be more careful with her! We can't break our princess. Well at least not somewhere so public. Come here baby girl, Nii-chan will take care of you.”

“I’m sorry princess, I got a little carried away. Here, let's get you home. We can cuddle and watch some movies. And up you go!” Tsumu looks at you sheepishly as he apologises, then he lifts you up and pulls his hoodie over your head. He carries you out of the bathroom, uncaring for the strange looks you three get. Your face is buried in his neck and your legs are wrapped around his waist. Omi glares at anyone who even thinks about asking about your identity. 

Your relationship might be a little unorthodox, but it’s yours and everyone is happy with it. More importantly you and Omi have realized what happens when Tsumu feels left out. 

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

LIGHT IT UP

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Anon asked: What about rough sex with Nestor in Miguel’s house? He makes you stay quiet and fucks you in the bathroom because he couldn’t wait to get you homeee ahhhh i love nestor

Word Count: 1.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes​.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Taking a last look in the mirror, turning on the high-heels, you sigh. You're pretty nervous 'cause finally Nestor is gonna introduce you to his boss, and also his best friend, Miguel. You want to make a good impression and you're not sure about the dress you chose, but you don't have time to change your outfit. So, going downstairs with shaky hands, you find your boyfriend waiting for you at the hall. He looks at you from top to down. Hundred times. You're doubting.

“What? Is that bad?” You ask with trembling voice.

Looking down and moving the skirt, you raise your gaze at him. The golden and sparkle dress is falling on you like a cascade with a pronounced neckline and bare back, with your long and curly hair place on it. You know it was a bad idea dressing something like that, but guessing that being Miguel's birthday the assistant should be ‘important’ people. Nestor doesn't say anything, till you're about to talk.

“You're fuckin' stunning”. He says walking towards you, holding and lifting one of your hand to make you go a full turn. “You're fuckin' beautiful, baby”.

His words makes you smile, leaning closer to kiss him softly. Offering you an arm, and taking it, he guides you to the car opening you the door. Even if he does what he does, when you two are together his attitude changes completely. You have seen him working, more or less, escorting Miguel's wife or his mother, and he looks so serious that sometimes surprises you when he laughs watching some tv-show with you lying on the sofa. 

Placing one hand on your leg, Nestor drives to the luxurious house of the boss Cartel, knowing the road by heart. Some music is playing in the car, trying to focus your mind on the lyrics, so you don't think about Miguel believing you're not enough for his brother.

“He will loves you”. He says, staring at you for a second. “And if he doesn't do, I love you and that's all it matters”.

You nod biting your inner lip, before licking it feeling somewhat relaxed, putting a hand on his nape to leave some caresses. You love him too, since the first moment you met. And your parents do too. They're delighted with Nestor.

Some minutes after, you finally arrive to the house, decorated according to the celebration, with a lot of people reunited at the entrance next to their own cars. Porsche, Maserati, BMW (...). God, you're enjoying the views as the good mechanic you are. It's like if you were a child on a candy store. Your boyfriend parks next to a black Cadillac, walking faster to your door so he can helps you to go out of it. Then he guides you to the front door, being greeted by some men, recognizing them as politician. Shit, your legs are shaking. 

“Brother!” Miguel walks towards you, hugging him and palming his back very lively.

“Are you already drunk, Mikey?” He laughs loud, infesting the older.

“No, not yet!” He shakes his head before turning to you. “Man, you won the lottery or something like, ah? Miguel Galindo, a pleasure”.

The boss Cartel holds your hand, pressing his lips on the back.

“Finally we meet”. He says then.

“Yeah, ahm... (Y/N), a pleasure too. Nestor talks a lot about you”. You reply with a kindly smile on your lips. 

“I hope only good things”.

“I actually told her you're a pain in the ass”.

“My father used to say the same, but here I am!” He laughs. And you're sure he's a little drunk. “Let's have a drink. I'm gonna introduce you to my lovely wife”.

You nod whilst Nestor tangles your fingers with yours, leaving a kiss on your cheek. It isn't that bad as you thought. Till a blonde woman hugs your man so dearly that makes you feel jealous. Just a little. 

“Hi! I'm Emily!” Now, you feel stupid when she hugs you too so happy to meet you. “So you're the one who stole Nestor' heart... I understand him”.

“Yes, more or less”. You chuckles, supporting your temple against his shoulder for a second.

“She's my wife”. Miguel says then, giving her a gently kiss.

“Come with me, it's kinda boring when they talk about business, even if they're not working”. Poisoned words covered by a friendly smile.

The woman grabs your hand, saying ‘bye’ with the other whilst she walks towards the swimming pool outside, having a seat on the garden sofa. Your gaze is traveling all around the place, really surprised about how huge the house is. You're sure you could get lost inside it. Miguel's wife serves you a glass of red wine, offering it with a smile.

“I was lookin' forward to meet you”. She says then.

“Yeah, me too. Nestor talks about you sometimes and I think we're similar”.

“Right? I told him!” You can't help but laugh cheering with both wines.

“It's good to have someone with I can complain about him”. Emily nods and laugh again because of your words.

“Yes... I feel you. Sometimes Miguel drives me crazy and not in the way I would enjoy it”. She says rolling his eyes and rubbing his forearm. “By the way, your dress is amazing. Where did you buy it?”

“Oh, ahm... My mom did it. It's her job”. You answer looking down for a second, before have a sip of the wine. “Don't you... think is ‘too much’? I was nervous about meeting ‘Nestor brother’”.

“What? Oh, no, no. It's perfect. And about my husband, you don't have to worry about. He gives an impression that it really is not”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You're not sure how much time has passed by, nor how much wine you have drunk talking with Emily between laughs and complainings, when both men going outside have a seat next to you two.

“Having fun, uh?” Miguel asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep”. You nod, looking at your boyfriend with a goofy smile.

“I need to talk' you”. He whispers on your ear, making feel nervous from nowhere. He looks serious and it's not a good omen.

So, leaving your glass on the table and getting up holding his arm, you say goodbye for a few minutes. Crossing the big door to inside, you walk through the assistants worried and thinking that maybe Miguel said something about you. Now, you're about to cry making your own guesses in silence. Going upstairs, Nestor opens the door of a bathroom letting you come in.

“It's... everything ok? I'm sorry if I said som—”.

Before you're allowed to finish the sentence, he kisses you. You breathe heavy surrounding his neck with both arms, while he pushes you to the counter lifting you on.

“You scared me, asshole...” You grumble against his mouth.

“Yea', I know, it was kinda fun...” He laughs raising the skirt of your dress, nailing his hands tightly on your skin, touring your thighs till he finds the waistband of your panties.

“Nestor, they will hear us”. You try to say, with your hands moving faster to unzip the black pants of the suit.

“That's the game, babe. You have to be silent”. You know you can't. Not with him. Your boyfriend knows every weak point of your body, and how to push you to the sky. “Shit... It's 'cause you look so fuckin' hot I can't control myself”.

His lips travel to your neck, biting and sucking your skin being careful to not draw any bruise on it. You know how passionate he can be sometimes, and you always enjoy it, but you're ashamed of thinking that someone could hear you. He doesn't care. Not at all. And he's pretty hard when he spreads your legs to place his body into them.

“Let's see if you can be silent”. Nestor says challenging you with his gaze, pounding you with all his strength.

You're faster, covering your mouth with a hand and closing hard your eyes, containing a loud moan. You wrap his waist with both legs, pushing him deeper hitting your wetness once and again with the same pressure.

“Shit, babe... I love your pussy... It's so fuckin' tight, so fuckin' damp, my love...”. He gasps on your ear, drowning there his own growls.

“It's all yours, papi”. You say then, looking for his lips to sink your tongue between them till you find his.

It's a easy way to drown your moans and your curses, with every stroke making you squirm on his arms. The kiss goes filthy and rampant, heating your whole body and bristling your skin. You love him. So much. And even if sex it's not more important than that, he makes you feel you're in heaven with every hit rubbing your clit. The only thing you expect is that he doesn't ruin your outfit or it's gonna be even more embarrassing.

“Fuc'me harder, Nestor...” You beg almost huffing, knowing that you're close.

Wrapping tightly your legs and pushing him into you when he pounds you, drowning all your moans with your face sink on his neck, your boyfriend takes it as a command. He doesn't stop and he's not gonna do it till make you cum on his hard cock, making him feel proud to please you.

“My baby girl...” He groans chuckling, biting his neck softly as you can keep silent when you hear some steps outside walking closer.

You have to cover your mouth at the exact moment your body find the ecstasy, with his name stuck in your lips. It feels amazing. You kiss him, silencing some sobs of pleasure before he pull himself out, complaining about it.

“Kneel, my love”. He asks you, helping you to go down as he wants.

With a naughty smile on your face and letting him place his hands on your head, you leave a long lick with the toe of your tongue all over his cock, covered by your own taste. He pushes it into your mouth, groaning because of your warm breath wrapping his hardness. Nestor sets the pace, fucking your mouth with his head tilted back slightly. He thrusts your throat, keeping his glans pressing it for a second, before continue hitting it.

“You're like a fuckin' fantasy, holy fuck...” He mutters as he can, trying not to talk loud.

He fills your mouth without expecting, with a soft contained growl whilst you swallow without him asking for it. Your tongue runs all over his size, enjoying every gesture of his face, when he can't handle anything else. Nestor helps you to get up, before clean yourself and getting your clothes well on. He kisses you again more dearly, with his fingers caressing your back so lovely that makes you sigh.

“'Am not gonna do it now, but... wanna know what Mikey said 'bout you?” He asks then, from nowhere interrupting the needy kiss. You're not sure if you want to know it. “That I should marry you”.

Your heart stops for a second, pursing your lips because of the surprise.

“Would you like, uh? I mean, I'm not proposing you. Not now. That should be more special, than do it after fucking you in my boss' bathroom”. You laugh in silence, shaking your head full of lively.

“Yes, I would like”. You answers then, putting his tie on and smoothing the shirt with both hands.

“‘K, I'll keep it in mind”.

[bel9ved]

Signless ==> Die.

The blackness had lifted slowly.

You did not know where you were except that you were moving. Smoothly, less like a troll was carrying you and more like you were on wheels. You are standing, your wrists chained above you in cold metal shackles. One of your arms stings in four long stripes where the cool night air hits it. It is eerily quiet, except for the rough sound of wheels on cobblestones. Is someone crying?

Your head is pounding but you are quickly becoming more aware. Your eyes flutter open, and behind the row of subjugglator enforcers you see a crowd. Bigger than any you have ever spoken to, all silent, watching eyes. There is a line of subjugs behind the crowd as well, keeping them penned in. Keeping them scared.

You twist in your chains, trying to look around. To find an escape route, to find... Your breath catches.

Your family is behind you. On another cart, being wheeled by clowns, each of them only just breaching consciousness. All chained to a pole like you are, though they are together. You are all alone.

You twist again, panic starting to set in and you go utterly still with terror when your eyes finally focus on what awaits you. There he is. The Grand Motherfucking Highblood. His grinning skull burns itself into your vision like a brand. Suddenly, he is all you can see, your eyes dilating to pinpricks with the adrenaline. No. No no no no no.

The march continues. By the time you reach him he fills your vision in all his glory. Your pusher is in your ears again but you hear your lusus begin to scream for you as your family comes to a halt some distance behind you.

Someone grabs your arms, holds you tight as they uncuff the cold metal and begin to drag you toward an anvil and a brazier you hadn't noticed until now. A blueblood stands nearby, waiting, his back straight and his head bowed in the presence of his betters.

Finally, your instincts kick in and you begin to fight. You yell and thrash and when they dig their claws into you, you wrench your arm away with all your strength. You barely feel the chunk of flesh that tears beyond your need to escape. It's useless, though. You are one, tiny little mutantblood and there are at least four clowns flanking you. Before long, they have you as immobile as you were in the chains.

As you are dragged forward by the arms, the blueblood dutifully pulls a white hot strip of metal from the brazier. It is placed on the anvil, and you swear you can almost hear the metal whine. You can see the waves of heat coming off of it, the glow against the dark steel beneath.

And then you see nothing as white hot pain takes over your vision. They've lowered your wrist to the cuff and the blueblood is hammering it into a perfect circle molded to your flesh, the agony wrapping around you until it is all consuming. You are screaming louder than you ever have before, struggling like the prey you are to these trolls. Tears are pouring from your eyes. You can no longer hear your family calling out behind you.

Your vision is only just starting to return when the second band is brought from the flames and placed down. You desperately try to get your wrist away from them, but their grip is unyielding and the second cuff is molded just as easily into place. This time, when you scream, it is raw and ragged, your voice already breaking for the audience the Grand has brought to witness your execution.

You are sobbing, shaking as they weld the chains in place. The smell of searing muscle makes you gag.

There is a long, sturdy chain that they take up and drag you forward with. You are in agony as you are wrenched up onto the platform where the stone flogging pole stands. Your wrists go up above your head and you scream again with the new white hot pain that crashes into your system. They drape the chain over the top of the pole, and one of the ones who was holding you swiftly drives a nail into one of the gaps in the links. There is no chance of escape, now.

A few moments pass as the Grand walks leisurely up to you. His smooth voice begins, but you don't understand what he's saying beyond the pounding in your head and the sizzling sound of your wrists in the cuffs. He is reaching for you, and in your shock you do the only thing you can.

You bite.

Fucker isn't even wearing armor. Your fangs, as small as they are, sink into his forearm and you dig in as far as you can. You feel him growl more than you hear it. He tugs his arm. Your teeth tighten and you growl at him, as threatening a warning as you can produce with your breath so shallow.

You see his eyes narrow, but you don't see the knife coming until it pierces into your chest. You've been stabbed before, but never with the force behind it that he has. It's a spike of pain driving into your ribs and you gasp, another sob breaking from your throat. In that moment he easily wrenches his arm from your grip and examines the wound.

You snarl at him. You don't know what else to do.

"if you was so thirsty, you shoulda just asked. you thirsty, mutant?"

"I could say the same of you."

"animal. don't know why anyone listened to you."

His insults help you find your voice. It's hoarse, ragged from your screams, but it's there. He backhands you across the face for your insolence and the throbbing pain in your head becomes much more sharp. You can feel fresh blood trickling through your hair and onto your forehead. You take a shuddering breath, and your head rises again.

"You are vile." You spit at him as you turn your eyes back to the skull on his face.

"i'd say tell it to someone who cares, but."

Your expression breaks. You snarl at him, but your attention has already been taken up entirely by the view your family, staring back in utter horror at what they are doing to you.

As the clown unfurls his scroll and begins reading your charges and crimes, you break down into sobs that wrack your feverish frame. You make eye contact with all of them, each one in turn. You see your mother's cold fury, your love's blazing anger, the worry and terror on your friend's face.

Your head falls as you keep crying.

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

"with all them tears, i think you are gonna get thirsty."

You hadn't noticed he was done reading. You look up at him, barely able to make out his paint with the tears in your eyes, but you don't have enough time to react before he is pressing a jar to your cracked lips and pouring the contents inside.

It's blood. Oh fuck, it's blood. Cold metallic slime trying to ooze its way into your throat. Thick, cloying with its taste. You try to spit it out, coughing and gagging and twisting in your restraints against the sudden searing pain in your wrists as you move.

"what, bronze not to your taste? aight, here this oughtta be better."

A second jar replaces the first as you are struggling to catch your breath, and this time you swallow almost half of it before you can realize what's happening. You are retching. You must have been out a while, because your stomach is empty and nothing comes up, but it hurts where the blade had been in your chest and it tugs at your restraints again and the choking devolves once more into a cry of pain and then into shaking sobs.

"damn he thinks he's too good for all of us, don't he?"

You hear some of the clowns laugh. You hear your Survivor snarl at him. You shake your head as much as you can, but that only gets laughter as well. You're the funniest joke on Alternia right now.

It takes him a moment to come toward you again. The jars he holds now are empty, the knife he had already tipped with crimson stain is in his hand. He doesn't make a fuss. Doesn't flourish or show off. The knife simply dips into your upraised arm, and it hardly even hurts. Not compared to the fire on your wrists or the burning in your lungs. He slices neatly, just above the armpit. You know there is a vein there that will spill your color as fast as it will flow.

He holds the vessel up to catch the precious pigment. Presses it into your skin. When the first is full and the bleeding has slowed a bit, he moves around a few steps and slices your other arm open as wide as the first. To say you are lightheaded is an understatement. The world swims slowly as you feel your consciousness begin to fade. The pain in your wrists isn't as sharp now. Everything feels duller. It would almost be pleasant, except for the feeling of your life slowly being drained into his paint pots.

Finally, he steps away. You don't hear what he says now. Everything is fuzzy and too cold. The world is moving in slow motion and your eyes are full of tears. Your family are crying. You would know those sounds anywhere. Your lusus's heavy sobbing, Psiionic's ragged pleading. Your mate's screeching, angry heaves. In your daze, you try to move your arm to reach for them. To tell them that everything will be okay.

The white hot sear of the metal brings you back into sharp focus. You cry out again, with nowhere near the strength of before. Your head is swimming, but you can see Grand walking away, cleaning his knife, as an archeradicator you don't recognize steps forward and draws his bow, the arrow already nocked and pointed at your chest.

The thudding sound of a bowstring hits your ears milliseconds before you feel the sting of the gash in your side. The arrow catches you across the ribs, missing its strike but opening a wide crimson wound. Blood spills, in a way one might almost call symbolic, and begins to soak into your ruined leggings. You hiss in pain, but the new slash brings another moment of clarity.

You see the man freeze, his ears pinning back with sudden fear. You see the Grand turn around, cold fury on his face. Before the archeradicator can even try to explain himself, you hear the sickening crunch of his neck and he drops lifeless to the ground. You stare at him, his face twisted into a rictus of shock and horror.

...He had been trying to kill you, but... He had been following orders. He had barely missed, and still the Grand treats this life, this troll, like nothing. Even one of his own is not safe from him. He wastes the most precious thing on this planet, and you cannot hear anything over the slow, drumming pulse of rage in your ears. Every bone in your body turns to fury. Every drop of blood that is still in your veins pulses red hot. Your face morphs from pain to white hot anger, and baring your bloody teeth you snarl.

He gestures to another. One you recognize as the Executor Darkleer. One that, in another life, you might have called a friend. He draws his bow with perfect posture. Aims it at your chest again but suddenly you don't care. You have eyes only for the Grand.

Your fury bubbles out of you in a screech that breaks the silence like a gun. It explodes at the Highblood like a whip from the hell that is your anger at a world unfair.

"FUCK YOU."

You don't hear the bowstring this time, or see the arrow coming.

The pain is immense. The arrow hits you dead in the side, drives into you hard enough that the tip pierces through your back. You cough up blood from the sudden impact, the fury leaving your face all at once to be replaced with terror as you realize, finally, that you are about to die. You can't breathe, your head is swimming with pain and blood loss. You struggle to focus, to look at the man who has calmly, and coldly, murdered you.

His face is impassive, but yours is pleading as you try to meet the eyes behind the goggles and find nothing but the void in return.

You barely have time to drag your eyes away from him, to find your family once more before everything.

Goes.

....Black.