#but also the ringlets of curls at the front of his forehead!!!!! let them grow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[blamemma]

Daniel Ricciardo during the Miami GP via Hoch Zwei

[kaleidoscopeminds]

saw this pic of Luke’s hair. had a breakdown. wrote a mini fic.

Words: 1,000 Rating: G Relationship: Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood (friendship) 

It’s a Wednesday afternoon and Calum is taking a minute to not talk to anyone.

He’s sat on a couch in a dressing room in a city he will definitely have to remember the name of before he goes on stage later, and Luke is curled up taking a nap next to him. It’s not unusual for Luke to find somewhere to nap pre-soundcheck if they have time, curling his too-long limbs up into an impressively small croissant of Luke Hemmings, his curly head just poking out the side. It’s also not unusual for Calum to be next to him as he does so, either also napping or just taking the opportunity of quiet that it brings. Today it’s the latter, and Calum absently scrolls through his phone as Luke breathes softly next to him, his head resting on the couch cushion. Luke’s curls are just brushing the side of Calum’s thigh, and Calum moves his hand to rest there so he can feel them just underneath the pad of his baby finger if he stretches it down. 

He can’t help but smile fondly at the sight of Luke’s hair, blonde and wayward against the dark of Calum’s jeans and the couch fabric, looking slightly frizzy and unkempt after a day of travelling.

Calum thinks people’s reactions to hair are kind of funny. He used to be more concerned with what his own was doing, forever straightening it down or blowing it out, but since he let it grow out he’s just having fun with it. The wilder the fan reaction he can get the better, and cutting the mullet in he maintains is one of the best decisions he’s made. He likes how it looks and it's funny, what more could you want from a hairstyle. 

But maybe he can see why people get so passionate about hair when he considers Luke’s. His crowning glory. There’s never been anything more synonymous with the eras of 5sos than the evolution of Luke’s hair, nothing that marks the changing of the time more. And Calum’s loved them all. 

He remembers Luke in school with the matching fringes they all had, constantly pressing it back down over his eye during performances. He remembers when the One Direction stylist started styling it for him on their first tour, swooping it up high as Luke got to grips with being their frontman and his hair took twice as long as anyone else’s to hairspray into submission. He remembers when he wore it straight and flat but eventually started letting the curls escape over his forehead. He remembers when he let it grow out during the most difficult part of his life, when his long curls framed his face as he put glitter on his eyes and started learning to embrace all the parts of himself. He remembers two years ago when he bleached it just before quarantine and the curls suffered, but looking sweetly fluffy and frizzy when the only time Calum saw Luke was through a rectangle on a screen. 

Calum inspects Luke’s hair now, inching his hand towards his head, and just feeling the soft strands touch the tips of his fingers, relishing the opportunity to have Luke in the flesh next to him. It’s shorter than he’s worn it in a while, the curls breaking free from his ears every time he tries to push it back like he’s forgotten that it’s not long enough to do so. It’s bouncier than ever, especially when he’s bopping around on stage, and it's hard to believe the curls ever lay flat on the top of his head. They wave out from his crown, the short hair on the back of his head just catching the start of the wave before they’ve been trimmed off, darker than the highlighted pieces on top. The curls on the side of his head always reject the direction of the others, wrapping towards his small ears, as if they want to be closer to them. Calum can’t really blame them. The lighter bleached strands on top are longer, his curl pattern inconsistent, but Calum’s pretty familiar with all the different things they do. There’s a chunk that clumps together in a ringlet at the front of his forehead that’s currently pressed into the couch cushion, that always tries to get in his eye. There are a couple of tight spirals on the other side where his hair parts, which are currently springing towards Calum’s outstretched finger. The curls on the top tend to be flatter and straighter, the pattern of highlighted strands waving across the very top of his head, not somewhere that is often visible on Luke Hemmings when he’s standing, but Calum can consider right now. 

Calum pushes his fingers further into Luke’s hair, just letting it curl around his fingers, feeling the warmth from Luke’s head and the soft strands brush over his hand. As suspected, and part of the reason why Calum does it, Luke makes a little noise in his sleep, nudging his head towards Calum’s hand without waking up, encouraging him to continue. Luke always did like having his hair played with, not one to ask but always loudly appreciative when it was given, smoothing his hair off his forehead, helping him tuck a piece behind his ear or just running a hand through it as he sleeps. 

Calum lets a piece spiral around his finger before gently pushing it back off his face, just letting his fingers skim the skin of his forehead and then pushing back into his hair. Calum watches Luke’s mouth stretch into a small lopsided smile, dimple hollwing out in his cheek, and his eyelashes flutter slightly in a way that tells Calum that he’s woken up, but Calum lets him pretend to be asleep just a little bit longer.

Calum rests his own head back on the couch as he strokes through Luke’s hair. Time moves so fast, but everything else can wait for a moment. 

[alkaysani-archived]

The Old Guard Fanfic Master List

*updated* 15 Oct 2020

MAIN SERIES

AS OUR LOVE SHAPES OUR UNIVERSE  (Nicky x Joe - Princess Diaries AU)

to love is to sacrifice, to sacrifice is to love 

“Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Charlotte says, and she’s sighing dreamily again and Yusuf definitely has that effect on people. “That young man gets my vote,” Joseph says from behind him. “He goes by Joe sometimes, so he’s definitely of good stock,” he says, and Nicky snorts. “A brilliant one, amazing artist, charismatic. He’s dedicated himself as the right-hand and advisor to his queen mother, and has fully supported his younger sister taking the throne instead of him. He’s friends with Nicolo,” he says, and Nicky blinks, shrugging a little, and his heart starts to go wild in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to understand. “We spent two years of secondary together,” he whispers, glancing at Mia. “Uh…just before they passed, he had to move back home, and I…” he trails off, sighing. --- or the Princess Diaries II AU where Prince Nicolo will do anything for Genovia. And if that means introducing his cousin Princess Mia to Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani to be her future king, then his heart just has to deal with it. He just wished that it didn’t hurt so much.

i will hold your heart together in mine 

“You love me now, right?” “Forever more, my darling,” Joe chokes out, and it takes on a whole new meaning that makes his own ache. “Then my heart will heal,” Nicolo says, and his voice is firm, and fierce, under the exhaustion. “The symptoms will fade, in time. They will,” he adds, his voice muffled against his shoulder. He pulls away and looks up at Joe with wide, glassy eyes. “The universe won’t be so cruel to me to take me away now, when I am finally happy, right?” he says, and Joe burst into tears then, shaking his head, grabbing Nicolo’s face and kissing him, deeply. No. No. He won’t think of it. He won’t think of losing Nicolo. Not again. Not like this. *** or where Prince Yusuf learns the physical extents of Nicolo’s heartbreak, months after they were meant to be fine. But regardless of how much it ails him, his beloved Nicolo continues to have faith that he will be alright. So he must brave through his fears and his worries, as they grow, and build a life and a family, together. Even if it breaks their hearts again. And again. And again.

black cats and lopsided hearts (Joe x Nicky) - 30 Oct 2020

“Permission to keep killing your fiancé with cuteness due to Halloween costumes, please?” Mia asks, and she’s giving Nicolo those eyes again, and this time, Nicolo bites his lip, glancing at Joe. “It might be fun, beloved. It’ll only be for a night,” he reasons, and Nicolo sighs then, nodding his head. “For you, heart.” *** or The Old Guard Princess Diaries AU – Halloween Special where Mia convinces Nicolo and Yusuf to let her dress up one and a half-year old twins Elio and Ayla for this very American holiday.

ONE-SHOTS & STAND-ALONES

JOE x NICKY

not that i need reminding 

“You look in love.” Joe blinks, looking up at the voice. There’s a woman, a little younger than Nile, or maybe just her age, sitting beside him on the bench now. She’s smiling at him, and he gives her what he hopes is an equal one, before nodding softly, gently tapping his pencil on his sketchbook. He knows the answer, of course he does. Yes. He is in love. Truly, madly, deeply, or however they say it. He knows all of this already. But he’s willing to play. “And how does that look?” --- or joe gets a vibe check from the universe.

to know those among us 

“Mommy, angel! Angel, mommy!” Nicky blinks, putting down the produce he had in his hand. He zeros in on the voice and a little boy staring up at him, jaw dropped and staring, his eyes wide and curious. Then he looks up to find a woman, blushing red, looking absolutely mortified. Even with her darker tone, the flush is clear, making her glow. She looks ready to run, so Nicky just gives her a smile, and then crouches in front of the child, before looking around, humming curiously. “Where, little one?” he asks, putting his hands over his eyes as he continues his search. “Where is the angel?” he asks, and the little boy giggles. It’s a beautiful sound amongst the low bustle of the early farmer’s market. --- or nicky gets mistaken for an angel by a child, so he tells them about real ones

in parts, i fall, i love

Joe needs to finish this portfolio if he wants something to propose to the showcase. And he does. He really does. But someone just sat at his table because the coffee shop is so busy, and their profile is gorgeous, and yep, he’s definitely trashed the outline again because this man is definitely going to be a part of it. “Is there something on my face?” he hears, and Joe pauses. Shit. Joe breathes out so heavily that his glasses fog up, and he looks up to find the man giving him a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’re staring,” the man states and honestly, yeah, Joe is. “I’m not.” Idiot. --- or joe is an artist, and he falls in love. and nicky is along for the ride.

with your hands, your whispers 

Come on love, that’s it.” “I can’t, Yusuf, please.” He’s gasping, breathless. His Yusuf always leaves him so breathless. It’s too much. And of course, Yusuf knows that it’s too much. He knows exactly what Nicky needs, and what makes him overflow, and it seems like his adoring heart wants him to spill over, again and again in every sense of the word. *** or a take on what nicolo and yusuf were doing before booker and andy got to the hotel in marrakesh

let’s right, these wrongs, together (see accompanying edit here)

If he concentrates hard enough, he can still smell Yusuf on the scarf, and it brings immediate tears to his eyes. Because it’s only been nearly a year, and he’s yearned for the man for longer, way before they got together. And even with all the odds, with all the numbers combined, Nicky doesn’t believe that there’ll be enough time that can pass to heal the pain that’s clawing on his chest at that moment. That has been since Yusuf said it was over.   Nile’s legs move from his lap, and suddenly there are arms around him, pulling him close and Nicky closes his eyes, pressing his face on Nile’s neck. “You’re allowed to hurt as long as you have to, Nicky,” Nile says to him, and it’s so, so kind. “You can tell me as much or as little as you can. I didn’t mean to push.” Nicky sniffles. “I still love him,” he croaks out, like it needed to be heard, like his desperation is a call out for his heart. His heart that let him go, that told him that it’s over. *** or the one where Nicky is housemates with Nile after Yusuf breaks up with him. And when he finally opens up about it, Nicky realizes that his current predicament was brought on by misunderstandings and good intentions with ill results. But it’s too late. It’s been nearly a year; it doesn’t matter now. Right? Not if your housemate is Nile Freeman.

hand-shaped bruise (see accompanying edit here)

Prince Nicolò spends most of his days alone. He lives with no one, after all, ever since his parents died. Ever since he was killed by Sr. Merrick and Lady Kozak, his screams ringing out throughout the night until his final breath, only to show up the next day at the farmer’s market. *** or my halloween take on our beloved characters.

BOOKER x COPLEY

when time dictates love 

"So not ugly,” Sebastien says, and Aidan looks at Mr. Copley, who just shrugs, smiling. “He is insufferable. Does he know this?” he says, and the man just smiles, both of them ignoring how Sebastien says ‘hey!’. “He does,” Mr. Copley whispers, and he says, and Sebastien’s fingers intertwine with his atop his knee, and Aidan looks away. “But you like him anyway,” he says instead. Mr. Copley chuckles, and he leans to press a kiss on Sebastien’s forehead, who’s no longer laughing. “Yes, but I like him anyway.” --- or a home-care worker witnesses Booker and Copley’s last year together, as time catches up on them

MULTIPLE RELATIONSHIPS

there is no timeline when it comes to this (Booker x Copley; Joe x Nicky - also featuring Joe & Booker bffs and Nicky really giving a damn about Booker)

“I’m happy for you, Yusuf,” Booker says, because he means it despite the ache, and Joe smiles, nodding, and he’s smiling in a way that makes his heart hurt even more. “We love you, Booker,” Joe says because he’s just that person, before driving off as Booker makes his way up to his apartment, steps feeling like lead. He makes the point to check the mail, and he’s not even sure why. He’s never checked mail before, Joe usually did. Booker pauses then, looking at the different ads he pulled out of the box after twisting the key. So many changes already. When he finally gets to his unit, he finds someone standing at the door. They turn when he pauses, and greets him with a smile. “Hello Booker,” James Copley says, giving him a two-finger salute. “You haven’t aged a day.” *** or where Booker’s best friend Yusuf moves out to be with his Nicolo, and he makes the choice to live alone for the first time in years. Booker tells himself he’ll be fine, tells everyone that he’ll be fine, even though the weight in his chest tells him otherwise. but he really has no choice. this is his life now. then James Copley comes home.

OTHER SHIPS & FRIENDSHIPS & NO SHIPS

little things, for the heart (Nile and Joe)

“Are you…baking bread?” Joe looks up at her then, and Nile snorts, walking over to the counter and reaching up to tug on the man’s stray curls, dark tight ringlets dusted with white flour. “Maybe,” Joe says, in a sing-song tone. *** or Nile takes a lesson she learned from her mother and applies it to her new life.

OTHER SERIES

THE NILE FREEMAN COLLECTION (Written for Nile Freeman Week 2020)

nile + love or where Nile meets another queen 

nile + sadness or where Nile keeps it real with Booker

nile + alone time or where Nile gets of ice cream and thinks of dying

nile + comfort or where Nile makes Joe feel better, the best way she knows how

MY LOVE, WE STILL HAVE MUCH TO LEARN (Post-Canon Take)

do not let me awake alone (Nicky x Joe)

After Booker’s betrayal, Joe is angry and Nicky suffers through the fallout. And for the the first time in a long time, Nicky understands what it's like to be alone in his grief.And something inside him breaks.

my love for him kills any anger (Nicky x Joe; Joe & Andy)

A month later, Andy finds out that Nicky is talking to Booker.But it doesn’t mean that Joe forgives him. Far from it. They've been through so much for him to just let it go.

a blessing from above (Nile & Nicky; Nile & Joe; Nicky x Joe) 

Nile gets used to a few things, three months into her new life. But the one thing that wracks her brain the most is how they deal with loss and suffering.Thankfully, she has a lifetime to figure it out. Because they’re family, and she wants to help them. At least, start them on the right path. They are grown people, after all. Because her Mama raised her right.

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 37 - A Strange Girl Who Is Everything I’ve Ever Dreamed

Seattle Washington, September 21 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 26)

ANDI: "Ok, I can do this right? I mean... right?" I say as I stand in front of the full length mirror in our bedroom, My dark curls styled in loose ringlets that cascaded down passed my shoulders, looking at the simple white strapless dress that hugged my bust perfectly and flowed down to just above my knee. It pretty much looks just like a sun dress with a lace overlay starting from just under the bust. It's pretty '60's inspired and it was all I could afford - and it was the only dress that I found suited me the best without it being too elaborate, that also went perfectly with these solid white heels on my feet that feel too tall. I just hope I don't trip at any point.

"Yes, baby girl... you can do this,"

I turn around and see my father John, standing in the doorway leaning against the frame in a white dress shirt, black jeans and a black jacket. His hair just to his shoulders and a full beard and I suddenly felt like a little girl again.

"Daddy," I say and my bottom lip trembles as he walks over to me and embraces me in a hug.

"How's my girl?" He says and I practically cry feeling his arms around me. I hadn't seen him since December last year and I knew I missed him, I just didn't think it was this much. He smells exactly the same, reverting me back to when I was a little girl and I would hang on his every word and snuggle into him as he held me.

"Uh, well I'm getting married," I giggle through my tears as I pull away from him.

"I see that," He chuckles as he glances over me.

"Oh my god, I'm a mess," I say as I turn back to the mirror and grab a tissue wiping my eye trying carefully not to mess up my make up.

"No sweetie you are beautiful... you look just like your mother when we got married," He says and I turn back to him. "I wish she could see... " he trails off for a moment and looks down at himself.

"It's ok daddy... she's here," I say and he gives me a half smile.

"You know... I always loved your mother. No matter what. I made mistakes and I regret the day that I left more than anything -

"Daddy - "

"No you need to hear this. I miss her more than anything. I know we probably were never meant for each other but she was a really good woman, and I loved her very much and I was just too damn stubborn and hardheaded in my ways to realize just how much she wanted me to be there... How much she really meant to me," John looks at me with his dark eyes filled with so much love for me and so much regret.

"Daddy it's ok... she knows,"

He gives me a small smile, then takes me in his arms again embracing me in a hug and I knew for sure the tears were going to start again.

"I love you my baby girl," He says, his voice deep and comforting.

"I love you too daddy," I sigh and he holds me for a few more moments and then pulls away giving me a kiss on my forehead.

"Ok, I'm gonna let you finish getting ready and I'll meet you at the back sliding door... that is where we planned it right?"

"Yes," I giggle. I can tell he's a little nervous about giving me away. He gives me a wink and squeezes my hand then turns and heads out of the bedroom. I then turn back to the mirror and try to fix up the rest of my make up, making sure nothing smudged with all the emotions I'm feeling. Suddenly I somehow couldn't shake this weird dizzy feeling, thinking maybe it was just cause I haven't eaten anything. I've been way too nervous to even think about food all morning.

I take in a few deep breaths and close my eyes for a moment to try and focus but it's almost like it made it worse.

Ok, Andi, you're ok... just relax

I flick open my eyes and make my way to the bathroom that was just beside our bedroom, and lean against the sink. I haven't felt like this in a long time and usually this happens when I'm about to have a time slip. I've been taking those pills so I have no idea where this is coming from. I steady myself for a moment and glance at myself in the bathroom mirror when everything really started to get blurry. I open up the medicine cabinet and take out the bottle of Lorazepam, then just as I popped open the bottle cap, everything went completely dark.

*****

CHRIS: Standing outside in our backyard, I feel like I have been waiting forever for this moment. I'm finally making Andi my wife and all I could think about was how incredibly nervous I am in front of all these people. I know it's just friends and family but still, I can't help but feel that way, especially when they are watching. I glance down at myself in my black button up shirt, that I left untucked and black pants and adjust my suede wrist bands, fidgeting with them because I'm so damn nervous.

Everyone had taken their place. My sister Katy standing next to Demri, My brother Peter standing next to me, My mom sitting in the middle row with my older brother Patrick, Kim matt and Ben all sitting in the back row along with Layne, Jerry, Stone, Jeff and Eddie. Eddie Vedder - now one of my closest best friends - sitting in the back with his date that he brought - I think she said her name is Beth? - Anyways, When Jeff and Stone and I started working on some music back in August, they introduced me to Ed and said that they were wanting to continue on in a band with him, and hit it off so incredibly well. He's such a great guy... he just has this soulfulness about him that reminds me of Andy. I know Andi was so shy around him at first and it was funny to see two incredibly shy people try to get to know each other. I think Andi was the one who said something first though... and we all know how hard it is for her to be the one to spark up a conversation.

Speaking of Andi, where the hell is she?

"So are we almost ready to get started? Where's the bride - Andrea, it's Andrea right?" The officiant says to me.

"Yea, um... I think we are almost... ready?" I turn and give Peter a look of confusion and he looks down at his watch.

"Um, yea... let me go and see if she's ready," Peter says and pats me on the shoulder and heads down the small isle. I see Peter walk up to Susan who had just come out of the house and say something to her, Susan nods, then disappears back into the house.

"Susan's going to check on her," Peter says as he comes back down the isle and takes his place beside me again.

"Ok," I say and start to fidget again.

"You alright brother?" Peter asks.

"Yea, yea... I'm just nervous," I say. After a few moments, Susan comes back, walking down the isle and smiling to everyone as they greet her, then finally reaches me.

"She's gone," She lifts herself up and whispers in my ear.

"What?" I say flatly.

"She's not in the bedroom," She says again. Feeling my heart begin to pound a million times a minute, I gently move her out of the way and walk hurriedly down the isle while our guests begin to stir, wondering what's going on. I make my way inside the house and run as fast as I can up the stairs to our bedroom and she is nowhere to be found.

"No.. No, no, no, baby not now,"

I check the opposite bedroom, and nope not in there either. I then quickly run into the bathroom and see her dress laying in a clump on the floor with her white shoes and white lacy garter belt.

*****

(Andi is 28)

ANDI: "I'm sorry!" I yell back to the neighbor screaming at me as I fumble putting on one of the shoes I had taken from the back yard from one of the houses a few streets over from our house. It's my freaking wedding day, and I can't believe I had somehow forgot to tell myself that this would happen. At least I was able to make it back to the same neighborhood.

I couldn't have slipped at a worse time either. Right in the middle of Chris and I... well... god his lips felt so fucking good, hitting that perfect spot. I was so fucking goddamn close too. Fucking Christ!

I quickly make my way down a few blocks, pretty much running so that I wouldn't make the ceremony too late and finally come up to our old house. There were tons of cars parked outside, but it looks like everyone is in the backyard. Pushing my curls behind my ear, I quietly make my way up to the front door, head inside and immediately up the stairs, hearing everyone's voices out in the backyard. I step into the bedroom, walk over to the window and see everyone conversing while it looks like Chris and Peter are talking to my dad and preventing people from coming inside the house.

"Shit, ok gotta hurry," I say to myself and run into the bathroom, tearing off my stolen clothes and jumping in the shower to quickly clean myself.

Fuck, I'm so hungry

In no time I finish, dry myself off and try to style my curls as best I could. I remember my hair was so perfect in soft loose ringlets, now it's damp as I try to scrunch it with some hair product knowing I don't have time to whip out the curling iron to make it the way it was that day - I mean this day. I quickly change into my wedding dress, finding it a little tighter than I remember but still able to get it on, only now the top of my cleavage is visibly showing.

I guess my boobs did get bigger.

I then grab the white garter belt and slide it up to my thigh, then slip on my white shoes. I then head back into the bedroom to check myself in the full length mirror, try and fluff my curls a bit as they fall down around my shoulders in tight curls and see if I can quickly throw on some make-up. As I move over to my dresser I hear a few voices coming up the stairs again and I start to panic a little.

"I'm just gonna check the bedroom again, you never know she might have - "

The door opens and I quickly close up my powder compact and see Chris in his black button up dress shirt, untucked with the top 2 buttons undone, his necklaces laying against his bare chest, those black suede wrist bands and black dress pants, his curls - oh my god those gorgeous curls I miss - down passed his shoulders with his silver hoop earrings poking through, his beard perfectly trimmed, neat and subtle when he first started to grow it, and those beautiful blue eyes that light up my soul each time he lays them on me.

"Hi baby," I smile at him and he immediately rushes over to me and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly and whispers "Hi"

"Um, could you just give us a few minutes?" Chris says after a few moments of him holding me and turns to whoever was with him and they nod and head back downstairs. Chris then closes the bedroom door and turns back to me.

"Ok, tell me that I'm not crazy here, but I could have sworn you... you looked different this morning... or..." He says as he walks over to me. His eyes wander over my body, landing at my chest lingering for a moment, and then flicking back to my eyes.

"No, I'm the same... I just, decided to change my make-up," I say and bite my bottom lip.

Holy shit he looks so fucking gorgeous.

He keeps his eyes on mine for a few moments and once again looks over my body, then catches my left hand noticing the tattoo on my ring finger had been completed. He takes my hand and then flicks his eyes back to mine.

"We're already married aren't we?" He asks.

"Yea," I say after a few moments.

"When are you coming from?" He asks glancing over my chest again.

"Uh, 1998" I breathe as his cologne fills my nostrils the closer he moves to me.

"So... are you here to marry me?"

" I am,"

"So when you come back, we aren't actually married then?" He asks and I can see the look of confusion take over him.

"Technically no, but you take me to city hall and we make it official then" I tell him.

"Do you at least come back in time for... tonight?" He raises his eyebrow at me.

"I do," I say remembering our wedding night. It was the best night of my life. "But just go easy on me ok? I'm probably not going to be exactly my happy self when I come back,"

He gives me a concerned look for a moment and moves closer to me. I didn't really want to get into specifics but I remember feeling incredibly heartbroken when I slipped. He then touches his forehead to mine and I close my eyes relishing in the scent of him. He then places his lips on mine starting gentle at first then swiping his tongue across my bottom lip and deepening the kiss. Without realizing it, my fingers make their way to his hair, lacing them through his curls, relishing in them as he draws me into him.

Dear fucking god, his lips feel so good.

He then pulls away from me and glances down at my chest again.

"See something you like?" I raise my eyebrow at him.

"Uh..." He trails off and I catch him biting his bottom lip. "You uh, you're fucking gorgeous in that dress," He adds flicking his eyes back to mine.

"We better get downstairs before people start to wonder what's going on up here," I sigh when he touches his forehead to mine wanting him to just make love to me right here, right now.

"Yea, you're right. Ok, I'll head down first," He says, places another kiss on my lips, then reluctantly pulls away from me and turns, adjusting himself and I giggle.

"You shush," He says flashing me a smirk before he disappears downstairs.

*****

Seattle Washington, April 2 1980

(Andi is 20, Chris is 15)

ANDI: "Shit! Jeezus What the Fuck?!" Chris yelps as I suddenly appear on the bathroom floor completely naked while he is in the clawfoot bathtub taking a shower. He covers himself but looks completely terrified at me while the water continues running over him.

"Andi, oh my God, um... shit," He says and turns the shower off while I try to gather myself together. I still feel incredibly dizzy. He quickly jumps out of the bathtub and grabs a towel from the rack to cover himself with and an extra one for me. He moves back over to me and nervously helps wrap me in a towel, giving me the shyest smile.

"Hi," He says sweetly. My god he's so young and his hair is so short.

"Um, hi," I say a little disoriented.

"Are you ok?" He asks.

"Yea, I think so," I say as he helps me sit up on the toilet. Suddenly he starts to giggle and which in turn made me start because I seriously did not mean to scare him, but I have to admit, that scream he let out was hilarious.

"Here, let me get you something um, I'll be right back," He says laughing and hurries out of the bathroom while I continue to giggle and situate myself a little better. A few minutes later he comes back wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants and one of his T-Shirts for me.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you," I giggle.

"It's ok, I figured you wanted me to scream like a girl at some point," He laughs as he crouches down so that he is pretty much eye level with me. He hands me over the T-Shirt and I quickly pull it on, flipping my curls out from underneath. It was pretty much a night shirt on me as it was long enough to come down to my mid-thigh.

"It's um... it's good to see you," He says with a small smile.

"You, too," I say as I look into his incredibly young features.

"I was um, just gonna hang out at home today so... wanna hang out with me?" He asks so cutely.

"Yea sure," I smile back at him. He then holds out his hand for me and I take it, and he leads me out into the living room part of the basement of his old house he lived in with his mom.

*****

ANDI: "So... what should I put on now?" Chris asks me as he crawls on his knees over to the stereo and stops the turntable.

"I don't know... I'm cool with whatever," I say as I lay down on the shaggy carpeted floor of his living room with my eyes closed my legs crossed at the ankle with my one arm supporting behind my head.

"Ok, um... do you wanna pick something?" He says as he looks back at me with those blue eyes.

"Mmmm... how about the Ramones?" I ask.

"Road to Ruin?" He smiles at me.

"Sure," I say and he immediately flips though his records, finds it and puts it on. He then moves back over to the coffee table, sitting in front of it and just beside me, grabs the joint that was burning in the ashtray and takes a few drags from it.

"You know, you never said when you're coming from," He says as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

"1990," I say quietly with my eyes still closed.

"Oh, so you're like what... how old?"

"20," I say quietly again.

"Huh..." He trails off and takes another drag.

"What?" I ask opening one eye at him.

"Nothing," He says and I close my eyes again. I can feel him studying me for a few moments and then he takes another drag.

"Andi, are you ok?" He asks. I guess he could tell that I really wasn't in the mood to be time travelling.

"Yea... yea I'm ok," I sigh wishing that I could tell him it's our wedding day and that all I want to do is just marry him and be with him but instead I ended up being here with him when he's only 15 and we can't do anything at all because that would be completely wrong, not to mention illegal if anything else. I always forget we're just friends in this time and as much as I love that he's my best friend, I just want to go back to my time.

But I love him so much. Fuck this fucking sucks. I hate myself so fucking much.

"Andi?" He asks again and I find myself trying to hold back my crying but I just couldn't help it. I cover my face with my hands and start to sob, feeling like an absolute idiot.

"Hey, no... no don't cry. Did I say something wrong?" He asks as he butts out the joint.

"No," I say quietly as I wipe my eyes and sit up. He moves even closer to me while I continue to wipe my tears away. He pushes my curls behind my ear, and cups my face in his palms looking at me with those blue eyes that are so young and have no idea of the life ahead of him.

"Andi, you can tell me anything you know that right?" He says and I'm suddenly reminded of his birthday in the park when he said the exact same thing, the exact same way only I really can't tell him everything right now. I then wrap my arms around him wanting him to hold me and feeling his arms slowly embrace me. Without him saying one more word, he hugs me tighter as I softly cry into his shoulder.

*****

Seattle Washington, September 21 1990

(Andi is 28, Chris is 26)

CHRIS: "... and Chris, do you take Andrea Marie O'Riden to be your lawfully wedded wife, in good times and in bad times, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I say without any hesitation as I slip the white gold wedding band on her finger, knowing it is the only time she will ever wear it.

"Alright, with the power bestowed upon me and by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you... Husband and Wife,"

I smile looking into those beautiful dark eyes of hers and knowing that she is an older version of herself, she is still so incredibly beautiful and everything that I ever dreamed about.

"...you can kiss your bride," the officiant says to me with a chuckle and I immediately lean down to her, pressing my lips to hers as she giggles against my lips for a moment, then cups my face in her palm. At that moment, everything stood completely still as I hear all of our friends and family laugh and cheer for us, applauding as I pretty much refuse to take my lips away from hers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I now introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Christopher John Cornell," The officiant says proudly though I still remain placing a few quick kisses on her lips while she giggles so sweetly as everyone continues to applaud us.

*****

Hours later, I sit in one of the large reading chairs in our living room as the last of our guests leave. Susan walks over to me while my hand grips my roots as I play with Andi's wedding band between my fingers.

"You need anything?" She says as she places her hand on my shoulder.

"No... just my wife back," I exhale and lay my head back on the chair, closing my eyes.

"I know... she'll come back. She always does," Susan gives me a small smile and I return it, glancing up at her. She then turns and makes her way to the front door giving me a soft wave as she says goodbye, and I am left alone to wait for my love to come back to me.

[howfarwevecome]

CHAPTER 1: AFTER THE END

He found her the following morning as he went to gather wheat for the day’s bread. She was an odd sight, beautiful but broken, slouched on the ground with her arms folded around a large box strangely decorated with pink hearts.

Pale skin covered in blood, scars and sweat, her brown hair tied back in an oily mess of a ponytail. She wore a white singlet in-scripted with some strange brand name and the remains of a bright orange jumpsuit, strange boots strapped to her slightly curled legs. She was breathing faintly seemingly in a rough sleep, as if half way through a nightmare.

Sighing he approached, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. She woke with a start and stared up at him confusion flashing in her grey-blue eyes, underlaid with déjà vu and mild disappointment as if he wasn’t the person she was expecting to see.

“ah, miss? Are you okay?” He asked concerned, stepping back to give her some room as she glanced around, “you look as if you’ve been through hell. What happened?”

She shook her head, placing a hand on her forehead and blinked, but made no move to respond. With a small sigh he offered her a hand and helped her to her feet, stepping back but remained close enough to catch her if she collapsed.

Once she was on her feet she seemed to regain some function. She blinked again and took a breath, shaking her head once more to clear her mind. Seeing as she seemed to have gotten some sense of consciousness back he decided to ask another question.

“what’s your name?”

For a while she just stood there as if the question confused her, but she soon glanced up, making direct eye contact for the first time since their meeting, and made a slight movement with her hands. The man stepped back confused.

“sorry, I don’t understand sign-language,” he admitted and she glanced away in defeat, “but I’m willing to learn,” he added giving a smile as she glanced back at him.

“i’m Mitch, by the way, Mitch Stevenson.”

Smiling in return the woman knelt down to write something out in the dirt. Motioning to the small sentence in the dust she signed it out as the man read: I’m Chell.

“Chell,” he smiled warmly, glancing back up at her face, “great name. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chell.”

She nodded, signing like-wise and they shook hands. After a minute or so they drew apart and that was when the woman glanced down, spotting for the first time since their meeting the odd curved blade at the man’s side, and the large wicker basket already half full with mechanical junk. Following her confused gaze he glanced down.

“Oh,” he laughed, running his fingers through his sand coloured hair, “parts, for my workshop. I’m an experimental mechanic you see, kind of a hobby of mine. Although my real job is... it’s kind of stupid really. I run a bakery, that’s why I’m out here actually. Fresh supplies for the store. If... if you’d just give me a few minutes i could take you back to town with me? If you’re interested, i mean. Do you have anywhere you have to go? Family even?”

She shook her head and in the end decided to take him up on his offer. Settling down on the strange cube she waited, watching as he gathered up his sickle and went to work. As he worked, he chattered happily, barely seeming to mind that she couldn’t answer or that he couldn’t understand her if she did. She didn’t mind either, she was just happy to have found such a friendly man to be with after almost a lifetime of danger.

“It’s amazing what you can find out here,” Mitch continued, taking a moment to wipe sweat from his forehead, he turned back and motioned beyond the small barn with his sickle, “take over there for example. You’d assume at first glance that it’s nothing but wheat for miles, but just a little bit down the hill, near a small lake is a giant junkyard full of the most amazing and bizarre machinery i have ever seen. Don’t even know where any of it came from. It’s almost like it just appeared out of nowhere.”

She gave him an absent smile as he turned to her for an answer, shrugging it off as clueless. It was only when he went back to work did she allow her true feelings to show on her face. Giving a silent sigh of remorse she glanced away, rubbing a hand gingerly along one of the burns on her shoulder, a reminder of the bomb she had miraculously survived.

In that one moment her mind was forced back to the night before, and the bright moon shining overhead. Deep down she had wanted it to be a dream, a horrid nightmare and nothing more. That was why—she admitted to herself— she had been disappointed by the sudden sight of Mitch.

At a glance he had been easily mistaken for him. But on a further observation she noticed obvious differences: hair too dark, sandy while his had been gold, eyes didn’t have the same glow and had a faint green undertone, and height, although Mitch was tall it wasn’t quite the same. Mitch was also a lot stronger in comparison, well muscled and fit. In the end she had to admit, and hated herself for it, that Mitch was rather attractive.

I shouldn’t have let go, the thought came unbidden, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself that it had been GLaDOS and not her the thought still lingered, i should have held tighter... i should have grabbed him...

That was when she noticed the tears. Hurriedly she wiped them away just as Mitch glanced up, a bunch of cropped wheat in his hands. He smiled at her and she forced herself to return the expression.

“That should be enough for a few loaves, let’s head back to town.”

Nodding Chell forced herself to her feet and picked up her companion cube, struggling a little under the loaded weight. Things would have been so much easier if she still had her portal gun. Unfortunately she had left it behind, just another bad memory wanting to be forgotten. Giving a quick nod to Mitch she followed behind, allowing him to lead her into town and hopefully—she thought to herself—a better life...

...

The town was small, nothing more than a few houses spanning across a couple of streets. It was even hard to tell the difference between storefronts and houses, many having been combined sometime ago. In the middle was a wide square of pure green grass, not a single sign of settlement could been seen. The sight was both beautiful and intimidating to her, this being the first time since she could remember seeing this many people.

All of them seemed to know Mitch on sight and would call out and wave as he made his way through the streets. The place being small enough for everyone to know everyone else. Which was also the reason why everybody they passed seemed to take a second glance when they saw her, that and her strange outfit accompanied with that large cube.

They continued on, passing a small group of kids playing in the road, being over-watched by a few gossiping parents. A few children stopped to watch them pass, one boy snickering at Chell’s dirtied clothes, another wondering out loud what was in the box, both got scolded by their mother, who apologised to them before hurrying both boys inside. Mitch laughed outright, telling her not to worry, they would all grow accustomed to one another as the days go by.

They walked until they came to the last house on the street. The building itself wasn’t that big or grand, old white brick, possibly reaching two stories. The front of the house, quite like the others, appeared to have been remodelled into a quick setup bakery, the back half being blocked off as the living quarters. Dwarfing the whole building was a large grey garage next door, which was clearly Mitch’s workshop.

They both paused at the front, Mitch taking a step forwards to unlock the door, only to be nearly blasted off his feet when it was forced opened from the inside and he was wrapped in a sudden hug.

“Welcome home, big brother!” Squealed the girl, who’s dirty blonde hair sprung up like ringlets around her rounded face.

He laughed and returned the hug, “hello Matty. Just the person i was looking for, actually. Matilda this is Chell. Chell this is my little sister Matty. Don’t let her appearance fool you, she’s the town’s tailor. No one knows fashion better than her. Just ignore the fact that she acts like a kid.”

Does she have a medical degree, Chell thought to herself, not unkindly as they shared a rather awkward hug, in fashion? From France?

“Oh you poor thing,” Matty fawned, holding Chell’s hands out to observe the scares on her skin, “you’ve been through the wars haven’t you? What happened?”

“Oh i should have mentioned,” Mitch broke in as Chell pulled her hands back awkwardly, “Chell can’t exactly talk.”

“Oh, sorry,” the young woman pulled herself back, before returning with a bright smile, “you’re full of mysteries aren’t you? I want to learn everything about you. I just know we’re going to be... really... good... friends...”

giving another squeal she gave Chell another unwanted hug, “why don’t you get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll get some clothes ready.”

Before either Chell or Mitch could answer she ran off, disappearing into a side room. Once she was out of sight Mitch sighed, running his fingers through his hair and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry about that. Hope you don’t mind being her toy for this afternoon.”

At Mitch’s words she moved back, adapting an almost defensive stance before letting her agitation go with a sigh. In the end she shrugged, she needed some new clothes anyway and didn’t really have any other option.

He motioned a thumb casually over his shoulder, “bathroom’s over this way if you want to wash off first.”

Nodding her thanks she made her way in that direction. A shower was what she was looking forwards to most of all, to finally rid herself of all the sweat and blood. That and the fact that her hair really needed a wash, it was just the perfect way of finally getting rid of everything.

Nearly half an hour later she was out, dressed only in a towel, steam rising from her skin and drenched hair. She stood awkwardly in the back room lounge-room, waiting for Matilda while Mitch busied himself with the baking. If it was up to her she would have just gotten redressed in her current jump-suit, but she had to admit to herself that her old outfit was nothing more than trash now.

It took a few more minutes but eventually Matty returned, bringing in with her a rack of clothes in almost every colour and size, stacks of shoes and scarves accompanying the set.

“sorry it took so long,” Matty huffed, ever smiling, “but I couldn’t find a colour that best suited you, so I figured why not choose for yourself?”

Hearing his sister’s voice Mitch stuck his head in, dusting his hands of flour.

“aren’t those Madeline’s old shoes?” He asked, to which Matty shrugged

“i’m sure she won’t mind,” she answered just minutes before there was a knock at the door. The siblings both smiled at each other.

“speak of the devil,” Mitch smiled as he went to answer the door

Though she was smiling pleasantly Chell could tell that their older sister was more strict than their younger. Tall and thin where Matty was short and soft. Even their sandy coloured hair was styled differently, Madeline’s being long and straight. Smiling she came over and gave Chell a quick, welcoming hug.

“welcome to the neighbourhood,” she said before moving back to address her brother

“Sorry about the short notice but the others have decided to host a ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ party for miss Chell here. It’s a big deal you see, her being the first new coming in literally years. Mitch make sure to bring your best batch of pastries and Matty... help Chell find something nice to wear. Hopefully something that brings out her eyes.”

With that she made a quick farewell and left, as prompt as if she owned the place. Sighing Mitch shook his head.

“That Sissy, always having to act like the boss, just because she’s older than us,” smiling he turned to Chell, “Mad is a very busy person around here, and very renowned, not only does she manage the local grocery store she also part time’s as a teacher at our school. Well i better get started with the pastries. Matty, you’re up.”

The squeal of excitement she made would have been enough to send any dog within the area into a frenzy. A couple minutes later Chell had been fitted out in a silvery blue gown that, although it folded perfectly to her body, revealing curves even she didn’t know about, it was still flowy enough to splay out when she twirled.

She glanced in the large oval mirror Matilda provided, swaying from side to side and admiring the fabric, a genuine smile crossing her lips at the sight as Matty fussed about with her hair, deciding whether or not it should be up or out. in the end they went with up. Finally a little makeup to show off the linings of her face and a silky scarf that matched the gown’s silvery colour to hide most of the burns and she was ready.

The celebration was to take place in the grassy clearing in the middle of town and went all afternoon and well into the night. Chell was tossed between people all evening, learning names and hearing stories until long after the sun had set. Finally the last introductions were given and the party started to break up. As she made her way back across the field she found herself walking along side Mitch who sighed up at the darkening sky.

“Beautiful night,” he noted, forcing her attention up to the sky for the first time that day, and the slowly rising glow of the full moon, “so clear and peaceful. Oh, i got an idea, why don’t you come star gazing with me?”

The sudden question caused her eyes to widen. Shaking her head fiercely she fumbled with the little notebook they had given her and wrote out a quick excuse: tired... big day...

Sighing but trying desperately to not let his disappointment show he relented and offered to walk her to Matty’s house, where they had agreed she would stay until things could be more permanently set out.

“Next time, then,” he said, smiling to cover up his disappointment and it was only when they had reached the front door of Matilda’s house did she answer with an uncertain: next time...

...

They had gotten her set up in the spare room at the back of the house, right next to Matty’s, fitted in one of Madeline’s old light purple pyjamas. The window next to her bed had it’s blinds closed on her request, but they still didn’t close all the way, causing a small beam of silver-white light to sliver through the glass, flowing across her pillow as she tried to sleep.

Against her better judgment she rolled over on the well-worn mattress and almost forced herself to focus at the glowing, milky sphere. Tears stung her eyes as she rolled back to face the darker, more reassuring wall, rubbing the palms of her hands against her eyes with force enough to hurt, but it still wasn’t enough to stop herself. in the end she gave up trying and allowed herself to cry silently. Apologising over and over in her mind as she finally drifted off to sleep.

I’m sorry.

I’m so—

[vintage-story-time]

Family Games by Ray Todd

Chapter 10

Glynn poured a drink of bourbon for his mother and took a can of beer for

himself. He still felt a little funny, walking around in front of her bare

assed, but she didn't seem to mind being naked. In fact, she acted proud of her

nude body, and he sure didn't want her to cover up any of it. He would never get

tired of looking at her.

She was sitting on the couch, with her polished legs crossed, so that only a

tufting of her ebony pubic hair peeped out, and right now the long nipples of

her captivating tits were flaccid. But the heavy breasts themselves stood out

magnificently, ripe and full. They swayed when she reached out for the drink he

handed her.

"Thanks, dear; I need this. You're a marvelous lover, Glynn, so good that I'll

never let you go. Even when you grow up and get married, I'll visit you every

time your wife is away."

He sat down beside her and took a long, cooling swallow of beer. "I may never

get married; I love you too much, and no other could ever be so beautiful."

"How sweet. Am I really as exciting as that other girl you laid?"

Up close, her skin was flawless, pale and translucent; he could see the tiny

blue veins beneath it. He said, "She was the first, and yeah -- she's pretty

exciting. But you're special; you're the best." He wished he could tell her who

had taken his cherry, but this wasn't the time.

And when he thought of Lorena, he remembered that he was also supposed to be

working the plan along, making some of the moves that might keep his mother and

father married. He couldn't possibly let her go now, and had to do everything he

knew how to keep them from breaking up. It had been a hell of an idea Lorena

had, the kids seducing the parents, but where did he go from here?

Watching his mother finish her drink, he said, "How could dad stay away from

you?"

She put down the glass and raised her arms over her head, stretching. The

movement threw her tits out, flattening them just a little as the skin grew taut

over the delicious mounds. "It was just as difficult for me to stay away from

him, at first. I need loving, dear; I need a lot of loving. Now that I have you,

things are going to be much easier. You make me so crazy that I do things with

you I never have with your father, and I love them. Teaching my son all about

sex is going to be the most fabulous thing that ever happened to me."

Glynn drank some more beer. "Maybe you don't want to talk about him, but I wish

you would. You know, I told you about hearing the two of you screw, and how wild

it made me. Wow -- if I had ever seen you making it, if I'd ever watched him

kiss your tits and feel your pussy, I'd have gone off without even touching my

cock."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Get me another drink, dear, and I'll tell you how

it is. One time I brought home a huge mirror and fixed it beside the bed, so we

could watch ourselves fucking. But your father didn't like it."

Hurrying, Glynn splashed her glass half full of whiskey and carried it back. He

could feel his prick moving and a new strength growing inside his balls, even

though he would have sworn that he was completely drained. He wanted to hear all

this, and hung on each of her words with rapt attention.

"I would have liked it," he said.

"I was crazy about it," his mother murmured, "Seeing myself being screwed was

great, but I had to take down the mirror. I've often wondered how it would be,

right in the same room with two people who were fucking, watching every

movement, every wiggle of her ass and seeing the way his prick slid in and out

of her cunt."

Glynn emptied his beer can. His cock was rising, hardening. "But about you and

dad -- how does he go about it? What -- "

Sleepy-lidded, her sultry eyes focused on his, and her damp, red mouth said,

"Suppose I tell you all about the time I got pregnant with you? Would you like

that, darling? All right, then: we had been at a party and were pretty high by

the time we got home. We didn't even take showers, but started taking off our

clothes right here in the living room. In fact, he fucked me right on this very

couch."

Glynn's breath caught in his throat and he put his hand on his mother's plush

thigh. She uncrossed her sleek legs to give him room, so he moved on in to pet

the crisp, ringletted hairs of her enchanted pussy.

"I was so hot that night," she recalled, sipping her straight bourbon. "I wanted

to fuck and fuck, and your father stayed with me for a long time. He stretched

me out here, and lifted one of my legs up to put the foot on the back of the

couch; my other foot was on the floor. He pushed a sofa pillow under my ass and

fingered inside my blazing cunt until I came on his hand. Then, when I was

really boiling over, he crawled in between my legs and fed that gigantic prick

into my pussy. I thought we were going to break the couch, we slammed so hard at

each other. I came with him, I remember, and he pumped so much semen into me

that I overflowed, and we had to have the couch recovered to hide the stains."

Sighing, Glynn asked, "And that was the time you got pregnant with me?"

His mother saluted him with her empty glass. "Yes, and what a fortunate screw it

was. Now I'm sitting here naked with my son, looking at his long, hard prick and

thinking what a wonderfully ironic thing this is. I only wish I could have your

father brought in, all tied up, and prop him against that wall, so he would be

forced to watch his horny son fuck his equally horny wife. We'd make his eyes

pop out, wouldn't we, dear?"

Before he could answer, she put her glass on the coffee table and slipped off

the couch, twisting her full, ripe body around so that she was between his

spread knees. He knew then what she was going to do to him, and hot lightning

raced up his spine.

"Sit very still," she breathed. "Don't move, and I'll do everything."

With his legs veed wide, when she kneeled erect, his mom's tits were right at

his upright shaft, and he watched with bated breath as she cupped the delectable

melons and leaned forward to place them on each side of it. Glynn saw the

swollen head of it poking from between the white mounds, and felt the caress of

the twin nipples.

She rubbed her tits up and down, squeezing them together, and with every sliding

motion her nipples slid over the throbbing head of his ironhard prick. He

couldn't help waggling a little, but she hissed a warning at him, and he forced

himself to stay quiet, since his mother wanted to do this her own way.

She let her breasts fall apart then, and dipped her head forward to draw the

perfumed mist of her black hair over his painful cock. Glynn reveled in the

tickle of it, in the indescribable feel of the silken hair as she ran its luxury

along his shaft. He dug his fingers into the couch when his mom's cheek brushed

the head of his rod.

Taking it in one hand, she pressed it against her face, rubbing her cheek and

chin over it, guiding the knob over her forehead and her closed eyes. He could

feel the gentle scrape of her eyelashes, and a shiver traveled the length of his

tensed body.

Slowly, teasingly, she kissed the bulb, her lips soft as the lighting of

butterflies. Several times, she kissed it, paying a loving homage to this sex

organ that had developed within her own body in the beginning. She toyed with

it, bent it slightly, and allowed it to snap back erect.

He thought, she's going to do it -- she's actually going to suck my prick! It

was something he hadn't even dreamed about with her, not until after his sister

had done it to him. He had always imagined fucking her, riding between those

terrific legs and pounding his hard cock up into the special richness of her

velvet cunt, but the image of his mother eating his shaft hadn't come to mind.

Now it was about to happen, and he couldn't control the little muscle spasms

that shook him. When her tongue came out and licked the end of his glans, Glynn

fought a groan behind locked teeth, but had to let it escape as she curled that

artful tongue around the edges of the knob. When his mom ran the end of her

tongue down into the slot, he clawed at the sofa and his heels drummed a tattoo

on the carpet.

Her lips came down and around, and her tongue temporarily retreated so that the

cockhead could follow into the hot cavern of her mouth. The distended flanges

passed through her teeth and lay for awhile along her supine tongue, then she

moved her head and he felt his glans against the roof of her mouth.

"Mmmm," she said around his shaft, and drew still more of the rigid meat into

her mouth, so that at last the tender head bumped itself against the matchlessly

soft satin of her throat. Her fingers were at his balls, fondling and probing,

and her other hand was wrapped around the root of his prick, holding tightly,

pressing down and releasing in rhythm.

Glynn's head was turning from side to side, and he bit into his lip when she

started to apply suction, as she pulled his cockhead deep and shoved it back out

with her tongue.

The cheeks of his ass clenched at the slippery sucking, as she moved her head

slowly up and down and the inner velvets of her cheeks flowed back and forth

over his knob. Of their own volition, his hands came hesitatingly up and held

her head, his fingers going deeply into her bountiful hair. She didn't seem to

mind now, and he rested them there.

Her own hands moved, too, sliding down his thighs and behind his knees to fondle

the calves of his legs. They came back up, gripped his knees again, and urged

them up. Glynn slid forward a bit and hiked his pelvis, lifting his feet from

the floor and helping his mother drape his legs around her shoulders.

His feet rubbed up and down her back and he could feel the resilient pressure of

her tits in his crotch. She tipped his cock down slightly, and gnawed on it, her

tongue busy over the head. Glynn's fingers clamped harder into her hair, and he

began to hunch at her mouth, moving his shaft deep into it, nudging the back of

her throat.

Fucking her head; he was screwing her face, pouring the prick into her mouth,

into his own mother's loving hot mouth, and she increased the sucking, bobbed

her head more quickly up and down, timing her pumping motions to his thrusts.

"Oh, mom! Ooohh -- I can't take it -- so hot -- you're eating me, eating my cock

-- you're sucking me off and I love it -- oh! Ah! Oh you beautiful cocksucker,

I'm about to come. I'm going to let it all go in your mouth and down your throat

-- c-coming; COMING!"

Groaning, she pulled harder as he shuddered and gave one more hump that ground

his pelvis against her teeth. The orgasm came roaring up from his leaping balls,

sizzled along his swollen shaft and burst from the head of his prick in a deluge

of semen. Holding tightly to her head, rolling his hips and digging his heels

into the curve of her smooth back, Glynn spurted his hot juice into his mom's

throat. She took it down, lapping and swallowing, sliding the sweet creamy

fluids thirstily into the narrow cave of her throat, chewing gently upon the

dripping knob to bring forth more.

Glynn thought that his backbone was turning to water, or to more come, and that

she would suck him completely dry. He didn't give a damn if she turned him

inside out, if his balls shriveled up and fell off. It was so farout, such a

crazy, groovy sensation that he turned weak and his legs fell away from her

shoulders. When his feet hit the carpet with a thump, his mother seemed to come

back from some far and ravenous place.

With a final licking of his cockhead, she lifted her face and let the bulb slip

wetly from her smiling lips. "Was it wonderful, dear? Did it just tear you

apart?"

Glynn couldn't trust his voice not to squeak, so he nodded, his head kind of

loose and rolling on his neck. She kissed his flinching belly and drew her

tongue up his chest; then, leaning into him and pulling his face down to hers,

she stuck out her tongue.

"Here, lover; taste your own wet semen."

Inside his mouth, her tongue moved around, fondling his teeth and cheeks. There

was a flavor of musk unlike hers, a different spice that had been manufactured

deep within his own testicles. Gasping, he broke the sticky kiss and gulped deep

breaths.

"My turn to bring you a beer," she said, and climbed from between his spread

knees. He watched her go to the bar, seeing the enticing swinging of her hips,

the jiggle of her ass and the supremely graceful scissoring of those tapered

legs. Dizzily, he wondered if any kid his age had ever been so damned lucky.

Any guy would give his left nut to have a crack at that beautiful ass, and give

up the right one for a chance to get that kind of head given him. Glynn thought

that his father must be out of his tree completely, to even consider giving up

such fucking. But he really didn't want his old man moving out, not even if that

meant he'd have his mother all to himself.

There was still that other thing he had, the need to watch his mom fuck, and

there was nobody he would rather see in action with her than his father.

Besides, Lorena was no doubt going ape over the old man by now, digging him as

much as Glynn was enjoying his mom, and she wouldn't stand for his leaving. He

didn't want his sister to follow, either. That would be too much of a split, and

Lorena was a crazy piece of ass herself. No harm in fucking both of them, he

thought, her and his mother.

"Here's to us," his mother said, giving him a can of beer and holding up her own

refilled glass. "May we always have as much fun."

"Oh, we will," he assured her, and wrinkled his nose as bubbles from the beer

tickled it inside. Was this a good time to talk to her some more, while they

were resting? He glanced over at the clock behind the bar and thought there

should be plenty of time, Lorena wouldn't let go of their dad in a hurry.

"Mom," he said, "did you ever think about swinging with anybody else? Maybe even

a -- a girl?"

She sat down in the big chair across from him, and crossed her legs. "Why not?

The way I see it, especially since your father insists upon being such an utter

ass, is that I don't have all that many good years left. If he doesn't want me,

then I'm sure others do, and that might include a little girl-to-girl activity,

too."

He saw that she was on the way to being smashed, and thought he'd try to steer

her away from drinking any more, but he was glad to hear her say she wouldn't

mind playing around with another girl in the act. From the things he'd read, and

pictures he had seen, Glynn knew that chicks sometimes dug other chicks

sexually, and even though that wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, it was

okay.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" His mother asked. "That little girl who got to you

before me?"

He drank more beer and said, "I kind of fibbed to you, mom. I've screwed two

girls before you, and I don't want to tell you about one of them; not yet. But

the other is my babysitter."

She sat erect. "What? That perfectly beautiful little thing with the exquisite

red hair? You have good taste, lover."

"I think she'd join us," he said. "I'm just about sure of it, because I laid her

and the other one together, taking turns with them, like -- so many strokes into

one pussy, so many into the other; they held hands all the time."

"Well," his mother said slowly, "and I was going to teach you. Could you really

get her to -- to make love with us? When?"

"Let's try for tonight," he answered.

[chalantness]

"Tell me how you want me." - Romanogers, pls. You're an amazing writer, btw 8)

“romanogers, 4, 7, 17,18, 22, 25” requested by an anon + “For Romanogers 23 and 47, thanks!” requested by another anon + “Romanogers + Hands on hips. Thrusts from behind +I still feel you inside me + The messier it is, the better” requested by @thoughtsandlife23​

This takes place between Civil War and Infinity War because this post has recently made me obsessed with “a little dangerous” Steve.

also I went a little overboard with this so sorry it took so long

4. Whispers in her ear while fucking. + 7. On your knees and looking up. + 17. Hands on hips. Thrusts from behind. + 18. The messier it is, the better. + 22. Feeling him come inside of you. + 23. Be loud. Let the neighbors hear. + 25. Just how wet can you get? + 28. Tell me how you want me. + 38. I still feel you inside me. + 47. When the thrusting does not stop.

(six sexy words, round vi)

She’s barely turned at the sound of the door unlocking when she feels his hands on her, tugging her back and slamming the door shut when he all but throws her against it. She’s vaguely aware of the keycard falling to the floor – the keycard she slipped into his pocket only twenty minutes ago, when she had purposefully bumped into him on the crowded city street – before his lips are slanting over hers, his fingers combing into her hair and gripping, twisting, making her lips part wide in a sharp gasp so he can push his tongue against hers. She can feel every ounce of his frustration simmering just below the surface of his skin, his body taut as it presses her harder against the door, making the wood creak as he kisses and kisses her.

And she can’t help but want to smile, just a little, a strange mix of relief and worry unfurling in her stomach. Because there’s a reason why he’s a little bit unhinged, a reason that she can’t imagine is good, but she’s relieved that he came to her on his own like this, just as she asked. Just as she insisted. He needs a release, a way to take out all of his frustrations before they swallow him whole, yet he had never entirely let go with her, even though he knew she could handle it. Not until she coaxed it out of him, provoked him until all of that tension and helplessness and anger boiled over, bleeding into his every kiss, his every bite and his every thrust, until she was sated and sore. 

And afterward, when he’d curled himself around her and kissed every bruise on her that his teeth and fingers left in the throes of pleasure, he finally understood that it was as much of a release for her as it was for him. That, for every second he craved to be in control again, she craved to give it up, to not have to think and anticipate and look over her shoulder, just for a moment.

Just with him.

Before she can ask what happened, what has him shaking, he draws back, just a breath away, and leans his forehead against hers. “Checked in with Wanda,” he murmurs against the corner of her mouth, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, but she doesn’t even flinch. “She’s alright, just a little banged up.”

“You weren’t there for her.”

His hands tighten, jaw ticking in irritation, though she knows it’s at her words and the truth behind them, but not at her. Never her.

“I can’t be. Not when she insists on separating. She’d be safer with us.”

“Maybe,” she breathes against his mouth, lips ghosting over hers in the tease of a kiss. “But there’s also a danger in traveling like that when you’re on the run.”

He knows. Of course he does, and he feels helpless, knowing that there’s no real way to keep her safe, no matter what they choose to do. It gets under his skin, stirs at his composure every single time, but the fact that Wanda had shown up to their rendezvous with more than scratch on her has riled him more so than usual.

So Natasha twists her fingers into his hair, stretches on her toes and whispers, right into his ear: “Tell me how you want me.”

And he knows what she means, because he always does.

Tell me what you need from me. Tell me how to help.

He grasps her face with both hands, tugs her back in and kisses her hard and deep and quick, before yanking back with a heavy exhale, his eyes burning.

“On your knees and looking up,” he says, an answer and a command all at once as his eyes dart down to her cotton sleep shorts, her thin tank top. His lips tug at one corner. “Naked,” he adds, a dangerous sort of glint in his gaze.

She just barely suppresses a smirk. “Obviously.”

His lips tug a little wider, but his expression is still expectant, and his stare is practically palpable against her skin as she shimmies out of her shorts, pulling her panties down with them, and then takes the bottom of her tank top by the hem and pulls it over her head. His throat flexes in a swallow, and she places her hands on his hips as if for balance as she sinks onto her knees.

But when she goes to undo the front of his jeans, he grasps her wrists, pulling them off. He places them back on his hips, then cups her cheek with one hand as he pulls her forward, ever so slightly, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip as he brings her close to where he’s growing hard for her. She can practically see the tension dissolving from his body, every muscle ebbing and easing, falling back into controlled composure as he peers down at her.

Then he smiles – crooked and boyish and so very Steve – and Natasha feels a warmth shoot down her spine, unfurling low in her stomach.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, threading his fingers into her hair, massaging at her scalp, and she very nearly mewls at the sensation, eyelashes fluttering.

“That I can still feel you inside me,” she murmurs, leaning back into his touch as the heat coils and coils inside of her. Staring up into his eyes with that smile on his face, all she can see is the way he moved above her the last time they had been together, knowing they would be leaving each other for a week or so, just to ditch the attention they could feel themselves drawing after being in the same city for so long. She thinks about how he’d worn that same smile, had that same look in his eyes as she writhed under him, nails digging into his back as he kept thrusting in and out of her, even in the peak of her pleasure. She can practically feel him inside of her, stretching her out, filling her deep, pulsing against her sensitive flesh as her orgasm washed over her and tightened around him.

“When I was beneath you, guiding your hips over mine?” He arches an eyebrow as his smile grows ever so slightly, and she feels her nipples tighten, feels her folds grow warmer, wetter. “Or when I was over you, pinning your hands above your head as I took and took and took, no matter how wrung out you felt?”

“Steve,” she breathes, her skin tingling, her stomach flipping.

Even his dirty talk sounds elegant.

And, as if hearing her thoughts, he continues with: “Just how wet can you get from listening to me? From only remembering me inside of you?”

Show me. He may not say the words, but the command is there in his eyes, in the quiet control she finds, and so she reaches between her legs, holding his gaze as she slides her fingers through her wetness – and oh, is she wet. She feels slick, and one stroke of her fingers has her spine curling, has her lips parting wider, wishing it was his fingers instead. He bends, crouching down to her eye level, and then he’s grasping her wrist and drawing her wet fingers to his mouth, closing his lips around them and groaning at the taste of her.

Of course, all this does is make her wetter.

His breaths grow heavier and shorter, his eyes darting over every inch of her bared skin before meeting her gaze again, heady and hungry.

“Later, I’ll fuck you slow and sweet,” he says, voice low, as if speaking any louder might shatter his control right now. “Later, I’ll take my time.”

But now, I’ll be quick and I’ll be rough, he doesn’t say, and she nearly whimpers.

She’s not one to beg, ever. But Steve is her exception.

He always has been.

“Please,” she breathes, not waiting for a response before she’s pulling cupping his face in her hands and drawing his lips to her, tasting herself on his tongue. But he pulls away too quick, too soon, standing straight and shrugging out of his coat, then pulling off his shirt, tossing them to the floor, and she stays kneeling and staring up at him as he starts to walk around her. She starts to turn, to look over her shoulder to hold his gaze, but he arches an eyebrow and she breathes out a laugh and turns forward again, biting her lower lip as she listens to the rustle of his belt coming undone.

Then she feels him settling behind her, feels his chest curling against her back and guiding her forward, until her palms are flat on the floor, bracing her upright as his body fits against hers. It’s always perfect, the way they come together, the way it feels for every part of him to press against every part of her. She can feel the heat radiating off of his skin, feels where his length is pressing against the inside of her thigh, already slick with her arousal. He brings a hand between them, skims his teeth against the back of her neck as his fingers find her tight little bundle of nerves, circling and circling. Her eyelashes flutter closed, her lips parting in a breathy moan.

Until he moves, guiding himself into her, one hand gripping her hip as he slides into her in one smooth, deep thrust.

“Oh.”

Her nails dig into the carpet, her chin tipping forward as he falls into a quick pace inside of her. It’s always so much deeper like this, his thrusts more brutal and his body heavier above hers as he takes and takes. Pleasure coils down her spine in ringlets, the pressure tightening between her legs as her body flutters around him in quick pulses. Already, it feels too much, too quick, and then his hand is on her thigh, pressing her legs wider apart, and she keens out a moan at the way she tightens around him, at the way he slides his fingers up, sliding through her wet sex and finding her throbbing bud.

His thumb is gentle as his pace grows faster, harder, ever ounce of his frustration and helplessness from moments ago being pushed against her with every sharp jut of his hips. She brings a hand out, presses the back of it against her mouth to stifle a sharp cry, but then Steve is tugging her arm away, drawing it back around his neck, and a desperate sound tears from the back of her throat at how the change of angle makes him brush against that sweet spot inside of her.

“Be loud,” he growls, whispering in her ear as he fucks her. “Let the neighbors hear,” he adds, making her inhale sharply, moan loudly, simply at the thought. For two people who need to survive on slipping undetected, Steve craves her every sound, never wanting her to hold back. As if, even while they’re tucked within the walls of this small, shitty motel room in a city they’ll probably forget about in a few months, he wants to it to be known that he’s with her. That he’s hers just as she’s his. He’s impatient for the day they don’t have to hide it from the world, for when he can simply enjoy her presence in front of everyone, and being the stubborn man that he is, he’ll get as close to it as possible, even if it means strangers can hear her coming undone through the thin walls of their room.

She comes with a gasp, tapering off into a stuttered whimper of a moan as her pleasure crashes over her in harsh, smothering waves. She nearly falls forward from the force of it, only heightened when his thrusting doesn’t stop, but then his arm comes around her and holds her against his chest as he sits back against his calves and thrusts up into her. She writhes, neck arching, body bowing, and she can feel her arousal between them, making every slick, messy, but it only makes Steve groan louder, thrust harder. His finger swipes through her wetness and paints it against her skin, against his, as if the messier they are, the better it feels.

And it must, because in seconds, she feels Steve’s body tighten against hers as his teeth bite down on the lobe of her ear, hard, but she doesn’t feel it.

All she feels is him coming inside of her, his warmth unfurling in coils of heat – a sensation that pushes her over that dizzying edge yet again, and then she’s coming undone around him, with him, with his hand in her hair as he twists her head towards his and kisses her messily, desperately, everything between them feeling heady and heavy.

Slowly, slowly, she feels his body easing, practically slumping back as he holds them both upright. She feels weightless, hazy with pleasure, and his kisses slow into something sweeter and softer, until he pulls away and presses his face against her cheek so she can try to catch her breath.

“Better?” she asks, the word coming out slightly slurred.

He hums, massaging his thumb against her scalp where his hand is still tangled in her hair. “Always,” he murmurs, the words warm and rough against her ear, and then he lifts his head to press a kiss against her temple. “Always with you.” Then his lips curve into a smirk. “But I think I still need a little more comfort.”

She eyelashes flutter open as she peers over her shoulder, meeting his twinkling eyes. “You’re that frustrated, huh?” she asks, and his lips twitch into that smile she loves too much.

“I could do this all night.”

[starfleet-wannabe]

Lucky- Joe Mazzello x Reader

Summary: Reader walks into the living room after a long day at work to the sight of her husband, Joe, and their two children sleeping on the couch.

Word Count: 1118

Warnings: Fluff. Just pure unadulterated fluff. First Person Reader.

A/N: This story is written and dedicated to @rogerina-yee-haw  who inspired the idea, without you this wouldn’t have come into fruition. Ellie, you are one of my greatest writing inspiration, and I love you very very much. This story is also dedicated to @rogahtaylaah  Liv, you know how much I love you, your writing and how talented you are. You both are my muses and you never fail to make my day! It was really fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy, it means a lot to me that you would take the time to read my story. 

I walked into the house after a long day on set, my eyes heavy from waking up at 5 am to capture the perfect shot of the sunrise, everything we worked hard for relying on the vulnerability of the break of dawn. It was nearly 9 pm when I returned home from a long day of shooting, attempting to get as much in before we went on break, meaning I missed dinner, one of my favorite meals to enjoy with my family, and my children were already asleep. I hated missing these moments, while small to most people mean the whole world to me, as my children were growing bigger every day and I knew, one day, these moments would only be precious memories.

I set everything I carried with me by the front door, where they would continue laying until Monday morning. I made sure my weekends were spent with my family and made my way to the living room, where I would be greeted by my husband, Joe, as he watches late night talk shows on the tv, and I would allow myself the moment to unwind in his embrace. This has been a routine of ours for years, as both of us are used to the grueling and taxing hours of entertainment, and how these hours often keep us away. Our lives are highly romanticized, and it hard not to see why when money and opportunities seem to make themselves known at every corner, but what you lose is your sanity and the hours you spend away from the people you love; these are the things you never get back.

However, instead of being greeted by my husband scrolling through the tv channels, the sight that greeted me brought tears to my eyes. Before me, Joe and our two children were passed out on the couch, each child underneath the nook of his arms, a forgotten movie playing on the screen, casting them in a bluish light in the dark room. My heart burst at the sight as I pulled out my phone to take a picture, wanting to keep this treasured memory with me forever. A few moments later, Joe wakes up, making sure not to startle the sleeping children in his arms.

“Evening Y/N,” Joe said, his voice still coated with sleep, sounding as handsome as ever. His auburn locks were sprawl across his forehead, and I fell in love again at the sight of him, reminding myself of how lucky I was to have him in my life.

“Evening looks like you three had a fun night,” I said, looking at the half-eaten bowl of popcorn left on the coffee table, and the opened boxes of candy on the floor.

“Friday night is movie night babe,” Joe replied, his eyes still waking up. “These guys finally wanted to watch Jurassic Park.” He finished with a small smile on his face, as he stares down at the two children tucked underneath his arms, each one a splitting image of him with their auburn hair, but our daughter with ringlet curls. “I think I know how they feel about it.” He laughed, with love coating his eyes.

“I’m sure they loved it dear, it just been a long day,” I said making my way over to the couch, gently setting myself down to not disturb our children while they slept. “They are pretty cute when they’re not driving us crazy.” I smile, touching our daughter's hairs, as our son sinks deeper into Joe’s side and I fall more in love with them at every passing moment.

“They really are.” He smiled the same smile he had the day each of them was born. From the moment I got pregnant with our daughter I did not doubt that Joe was going to be a great dad, and he hasn’t let me down yet. “What do you say about one more?” he asked with a smirk forming on his face, and playful eyes.

“I say we get these kids to bed and discuss it next date night, then maybe, I’ll give you an answer,” I said, carefully picking up our daughter, while Joe carries our son.

“I like the way you think babe.” Joe presses a quick kiss to my cheek before we head up the stairs with each child in hand.

“I’m glad someone does,” I replied.

After putting the children to bed and cleaning up the living room, a task taking longer with every kiss and touch Joe and I steal from one another, we retreated to our bedroom for the night, having changed into our PJs. Lying in bed, a script in my hand, as I meticulously scribble notes on the pages, I watched Joe as he brushed his teeth, thinking about how lucky I was to have him in my life.

“Joe, were you serious earlier?” I asked, the image replaying in my head of the two times I told him we were expecting, how excited he was every time as the news brought tears into his eyes.

“About what?” Joe replied, his mouth full of toothpaste. He looked adorable with the foam muffling his words.

“About another kid? Do you really want another kid, Joesph Francis Mazzello III?”

“I want as many as you want Y/N,” Joe said as clear as day, having rinsed his mouth. He made his way back to the bed, beginning to leave a trail of kisses on my neck, and I can’t help but melt into his embrace. “But one more wouldn’t hurt.” Joe’s beautiful puppy dog eyes looked at me with so much love, it was hard to say no.

“We do make some pretty cute kids,” I said sinking further as he wrapped his arms around me. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind another curly haired ginger running around the house.”

“You really want to do this?” Joe asked loved radiating from his eyes.

“After I’m done with this project, Why not? We’ve done it twice before. The third time would be nothing.”

“Have I told you how much I love you, Y/N?” He asked, peppering my face with kisses, as he moves on top of me.

“Only every single day,” I replied, kissing his lips with as much passion as I can muster. “However, tonight, I just want to sleep. I’m tired,” I admitted with a yawn, Joe moving back to his side of the bed, as he begins to spoon me.

“That sounds great babe.” I feel his arms wrap around me, as he pulls me closer to his chest, and I love how warm he is, as he rests his head by my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile at how lucky I am.

[smallerinfinities]

Dressing Room

a/n: In which adrenaline is the best aphrodisiac.

This came about talking to @shawnmendessmut18 over this post! THE THIRST WAS REAL. It also happens to coincide with reaching 700 followers today! 🎉 THAT’S INSANE. 

|| MASTERLIST ||

warnings: 2.5K of filthy festival smut. 

The roar of the crowd shook the foundation of the festival stage, putting a beautifully loud finish on the set. You couldn’t believe how powerful it had been. They knew every word to every song and sang them back to Shawn like their lives depended on it. You weren’t even on stage and yet you could feel the overwhelming intensity of it, an explosion of energy pulsing through you. Running off stage, Shawn crashed into you, breathless. He wrapped his arms around you, making you erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Shawn!” you gasped as he lifted you off the ground and spun you around, “that was incredible!” You could feel his sweaty brow pressed against your neck as he breathed you in. “Shawn, you have to go meet with your people now, do some quick press,” you brushed the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck, not wanting this moment to end but knowing it had to. He put you back on your feet, sliding your body all the way down his front and making sure you felt the hardness growing in his tight jeans.

“Okay, okay, let me do this real quick,” he said nonchalantly, bringing his lips to brush against your ear, “but don’t fucking move until I get back.” You stifled your moan with a choked giggle and pushed him away from you.

You watched him as he walked around, everyone clapping him on the back in congratulations on a great set. He laughed with Zubin and Mike; he bumped fists with Andrew. You enjoyed watching him be celebrated, thinking about your own private celebration that was sure to come later.

Every so often he would catch your eye, his gaze momentarily darkening. The heat from these split-second connections was building. You could feel it in your lower abdomen, desire slowly churning into an all out fire in your belly. By the time he was done reveling, purposefully walking toward you, you could feel the moisture starting to pool between your legs.

Without speaking, he grabbed your hand, pulling you roughly toward his dressing room. It wasn’t three seconds after you walked in the door before you were pushed against the wall, his hands rough on your body. His sweaty, musky scent filled your senses, you could practically taste him in the air. His hands were everywhere—grazing your ribs, grabbing your arms, floating across your breasts. Your breath hitched as his fingers skimmed your nipples, your teeth catching your bottom lip and suppressing a deep moan.

“Come on, baby. I know you want to moan for me,” Shawn teased, humming along your throat, placing his lips at the base of it but not moving them. He nipped at the skin, flicking his tongue out to wet the space there. You bit your lower lip harder, refusing to give in to his provocations.

He opened his mouth and gently began to suck, running his hands down your arms and lifting them above you. He secured your wrists in one of his massive hands while he increased the suction on your throat. You knew he was leaving a mark there on purpose, wanting everyone to know you were his. When he released your skin he admired your neck, pleased with the bruising flesh as he gave it one last lick with the flat of his tongue.

A guttural moan escaped your lips as you ripped your hands free from his grasp and tangled your fingers in his curls. You hauled his head up to yours and kissed him deeply, tilting your head and granting him access to your mouth. Your tongues moved together, massaging and licking, as his hands roamed up and down your sides. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you hiss in pleasure pain.

“Shawn,” you breathed, pressing your forehead against his, “I need you.” He smirked, running his tongue across his top lip. He played with the hem of your red cotton dress, inching the fabric upward and lightly running his fingers along the outside of your thighs. Catching you off guard, he grabbed your ass and lifted you up off the ground, pinning you between the wall and his hips. You could feel his cock, rigid and straining in his pants, against your dripping heat.

“Oh, yeah? How do you need me, babe?” he asked, rolling his hips into you. Your eyes rolled back and you dropped your head to his shoulder. He gripped your dress and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in white lace and a pair of black fuck-me pumps. Not to be outdone, you ran your hands down and back up his chest, grabbing his lapels and quickly jerking your hands apart. Buttons scattered as the shirt fluttered to the floor and Shawn let out a low growl, “I liked that shirt.”

“You asked how I needed you, and I need you naked,” you purred, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “with your mouth on me.” His eyes went from honey to dark chocolate at your innuendo. Taking a hold of your ass again, he carried you to the vanity set against a mirror that spanned the entire wall.

He stepped back and undressed, removing his boots, socks, and skinny jeans, leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs. You reached out for him, catching his waistband and pulling him in for a kiss. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra, immediately replacing it with his hands. Your tongues danced while he massaged your full breasts, grazing your bare nipples with his rough fingertips. They hardened on contact, making you gasp into his mouth. He smiled against your skin, loving the sounds he was forcing from you, but wanting more.

You moved to kick off your shoes, but Shawn grabbed your ankle, halting the motion. “Leave the shoes,” he said, gruffly. Pulling your hips to the edge of the vanity, he placed one of his massive hands in the center of your chest.

“Now, lean back, baby. I wanna taste you.” You moaned deeply at his words as your back settled against the tabletop, the cool temperature making you wince slightly. Shawn’s hands hovered at your hips, teasing the edges of your panties. You sighed in frustration, “Shawn, fucking rip them if you have to.”

If you didn't know better, you could swear his eyes turned black. Without hesitation, he fisted the material in his hand and yanked it from you, the bite of the fabric ripping against your skin making you cry out. The action snapped something in Shawn. You could tell, that where before he had been holding back, now all of his restraint had disintegrated. Kneeling on the floor, he roughly spread your legs open for him.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, peppering the inside of your thighs with kisses, “all mine.” Flattening his tongue against you, he licked a wet stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your hands immediately clutched at his curls, fingers braiding into the soft ringlets. He lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around your bundle of nerves. You squirmed underneath him, sensation radiating from your center, as you struggled to keep your legs open, feeling them involuntarily start to close against his head. He grunted against your heat, wrapping his arms around your thighs, keeping you wide open for him.

He came up for air, chin glistening with your natural wetness. He looked up and past you, into the mirror, and smiled at the reflection. In it, he not only saw you laid out before him, chest flushed and hair draped across the table, but he saw himself, curls mussed and wild with the evidence of your pleasure reflecting on his face. You looked to see what had caught his eye, landing on the mirror and moaning loudly. You draped your arm over your eyes, too overwhelmed to watch.

“No, baby. I want you to watch what I'm about to do to you,” he said, pulling your arm down and threading his fingers through yours. With his other hand, he slowly pushed two fingers into you, spreading your walls. He pumped in and out of you in a smooth, glacial pace. It was maddening. You tightened your grip on his hand, signaling your frustration.

“Shawn, harder,” you mewled, thrusting your hips toward his fingers to increase the tempo.

“I’ll go as hard as you want as long as you look in the mirror,” he bargained, pointing toward your reflection with your clasped hands. You met his eyes in the mirror, then followed them down toward the apex of your thighs where he continued to leisurely pump.

“Harder, I want to see you sweat for it,” you commanded, needing more friction. Shawn picked up his tempo and slid another finger inside, stretching you further. You brought your knees up and dug the heels of your shoes into the edge of the table, angling his fingers deeper into you. He curled his knuckles, pushing his fingertips into your front walls and pulsing your g-spot, like he knew drove you wild.

“Oh fuck,” he cursed. You watched his brow furrow in the mirror with effort, sweat starting to bloom and run down his rosy cheeks as you moaned with abandon. Your knees started to shake, a tell-tale sign of your impending release, back arching up off the table. Sensing the coming wave, Shawn applied direct pressure to your clit with his thumb and held it there. When his eyes zeroed in on yours in the mirror, it was all over.

Your world shattered in a roaring orgasm. The force of it drove your upper body up off the table, clawing at his back. He rocked you through the waves of pleasure, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in a close embrace. “That’s my girl,” he breathed against your temple, “come down for me.”

He gradually pulled his fingers from you  and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean of your essence. He moaned around them, enjoying your sweet taste. Reeling from the loss, you wrapped yourself around him, nuzzling his neck.

“Shawn, fuck, that was so good,” you hummed, softly nipping at his collar bone. You accidentally skimmed the front of his boxer briefs and he hissed, “shit, baby, I’m sensitive.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you ran the back of your hand down the front of the strained fabric. He sucked in a breath as you dipped your hand inside, freeing his now painfully hard cock and hearing it smack against his lower abdomen. You pushed the offending clothing down his legs and he kicked them aside. You peeked up at him, a coy smile playing on your lips. Taking his rigid cock in your hand, you spread the precum leaking from his pink tip and roughly stroked him.

He gasped, leaving his mouth open in a silent shout, as his eyes shut tight, crinkling at the corners, “oh, fuck, baby. Not too hard, I want to last for you.”  

As he leaned his head back, savoring the sensation, you licked a trail up his throat and over his Adam’s apple. He was panting, trembling, holding back as best he could, waiting to really enjoy it until he was inside you. His hands came down around yours, stilling your motions.

“I...I want….I need….you to let me inside,” he heaved, still fighting the urge to buck his hips into your hand. You could feel the muscles in his thighs twitching with the effort as you spread for him, welcoming him between your legs. Resting his forehead against yours, he gently ran his rosy tip along your slit, lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushed inside you, using every bit of his control, taking measured breaths. When he bottomed out, you both moaned in unison, pausing to look at each other. You cupped his jaw, drawing his face to yours, sealing the moment with a searing kiss, stoking the fire between you to a fever pitch.

Without looking away, Shawn pulled almost all the way out of you before slamming back in.

“Oh, God!” you cried, falling back onto the table. He worked himself into a steady, punishing tempo, pulling and pushing, in and out. You looked up to the mirror and watched him working you over. It was like an out-of-body experience. You felt everything he was doing, every blessed stroke that stretched your walls, every time he grazed your sides with his fingertips. But, seeing yourself in the mirror, flushed and quivering, hair frizzing with the sweat of your exertion—it seemed like it was happening to someone else, someone mythical—Aphrodite and her Adonis. He doted on you with his movements, using his strong arms and thick thighs as perfect leverage against your body, perfectly choreographed and attuned to your pleasure alone. The sensuality of the moment was overwhelming, even though he was fucking the hell out of you.

He ran his hand down the outside of one of your legs and pulled it up over his shoulder. The changed angle allowed him deeper than before, increasing the pleasure ten-fold. You could feel your release building again at the base of your abdomen. The veins in his neck bulged with the weight of his restraint.

“Fuck, baby...are...you...close?” he asked between thrusts, sweat rolling freely down his chest. His grip on your hips was going to leave purple bruises, trophies of his conquest.

“Wait...for me….Jesus, fuck….I want...to come...with you,” you answered, snaking your hand between the two of you. You rubbed rough circles around your clit, getting yourself to the brink, almost ready to fall. It wasn’t until Shawn brought his head down to your breast, taking your nipple between his teeth and biting down, that you flew off the edge. Your vision went blind in a sheet of white, overexposed and then oversaturated. All you could hear was a high-pitched ringing and the continued slapping of skin.

You came back to your senses just in time to watch his beautiful face break with his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you and spilling his come in thick, hot spurts. His erratic thrusts eventually became soft strokes until he was spent. He leaned over your shivering body and placed a single open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder. When he pulled out, you hissed at the loss, suddenly feeling incomplete without him inside you. He walked over to the sink and wet a washcloth, ever the attentive boyfriend, and pressed it against your heat.

“Goddamn,” he said, tossing the towel aside when he was done, “I wish I played a crowd that live everyday if it meant I could have you like that every night.” He picked you up off the table, holding your still recovering body against his chest, and walked you over to the couch. He sat with you in his lap, resting his chin on the top of your head, as you pulled a blanket over the two of you.

“Babe, you can have me like that anytime,” you taunted, caressing the base of his throat with your nose and inhaling his scent—musk and sweat and sex. “You don’t have to ask, just take.”

Feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

[teakwoods-ghost]

Getting Ready

Ships: Taehyung x Female!Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff

Word Count: 837

Status: One Shot

Warnings: Death, Violence

Link to Masterlist in bio

You breathe deeply as you look into the mirror. Today was the day. It feels like time is passing so slowly, but too fast at the same time. You want to savor every moment of today, but you also want the entire day to be over and done with. You sighed once more as you got back to brushing your hair. You decided to grow it out just for today, and it had grown so long that each pass of the hairbrush seemed to take forever. It didn't help that you were diligently brushing each section of your hair, making sure that not even one knot had escaped the bristles of your brush. Once you finally finished brushing your hair you moved on to your make up. You decided a day like today deserved a full face of makeup. You even chose a dark lip color, something you reserved for special occasions. You heard a knock at the door, and it was him. The love of your life, standing by the open doorway, taking in the sight of you in your bathrobe. “Wow, you haven’t even put on your dress yet and you already look so stunning.” Taehyung said, adjusting the large dress bag in his arms. You smiled as you took in how he looked. He seemed to be half dressed since his shirt wasn’t buttoned and his suit jacket was being held under your dress. “Would you like to finish the process?” You asked, getting out of your chair. Taehyung smiled as he walked over to the bed, placing his jacket and the dress bag on it. He walked over to you and gave you a kiss. That was one of your favorite things about Taehyung. The way he kissed. He always seemed to pour all of himself into every kiss he gave you. When you broke apart you swore you could see the entire galaxy in his eyes as he smiled down at you. You smiled back at him before he turned around so you could get into your dress.

You unzipped the dress and took in its beauty. It was so fluffy, and the iridescent beadwork stood out so well against the bright white of the dress. You slipped it on and coughed to let Taehyung know he could zip it up. He did it so slowly, carefully, like he was handling a piece of glass instead of his fiance of several months.  Once the dress was zipped and the ribbon in the back was tied snuggly against the small of your back he moved to the ground. He picked up the shoe box you had been hiding under the bed. The shoes were just as beautiful as the dress, and Taehyung gently slid them onto your feet before leaving a small peck on each shin. The next step was the hair. It had taken a while for Taehyung to trust himself to use the curling iron on you, but it was well worth it. He curled your hair into tight ringlets, making sure that they framed your face nicely. Finally, he placed the veil on your head, clipping the small tiara attached to it in place. You turned to him and he looked like he was going to burst into tears any second, so before he could you started to button up his shirt. You were just as careful with him as he was with you. Every button was buttoned with the utmost reverence. Next, you tied his tie. It was something he refused to learn how to do himself since he loved to see the way your fingers moved as you made sure the knot was just tight enough. Finally came the jacket and when you buttoned the last button he grabbed you by the arms. “I’m so scared.” He confessed, a single tear running down his face. You wiped it off and gave him your own watery smile. “I am too.” You replied honestly. Taehyung gave you one more kiss before taking your hand in his.

The two of you walked through the large mansion you called home, swinging your linked hands as you walked. You recalled all of the good memories the two of you shared. Finally, you both walked to the front door. Taehyung took a deep breath. “Are you ready?” He asked, turning to you. You looked back at him. “I’m ready for anything as long as you stay by my side.” He smiled and kissed you once more. This kiss felt different though. It felt almost desperate. Before you could think more about it you heard a door being busted open and a few windows breaking. This was it. You separated from the kiss and took one more look at Taehyung’s beautiful smile. You smiled just as widely. You both closed your eyes and rested your foreheads together. You were glad that the last thing you got to see was his smiling face. You heard gunfire and screaming, and you felt pain, but then you felt nothing.

[salaciouxx]

The AU that no one asked for and I’m guilty to have thought of. Extremely inspired by BatCat in TDKR. Huge thanks to @evanzski for putting up with my insane idea and supporting said idea by giving me lots of her own. Also, @monij1493 because I can always count on her to listen to my incoherent rants. Thank you both xx

Hope you guys enjoy the crazy!

~*~

Her fingertips brushed gently against the glimmering pearls as a sly smile grew on her rose-coloured lips and she admired the Audrey Hepburn look to it all. Her hair was curled – well, the blonde wig was curled, the ringlets reaching just below her bra strap, and the few strands around her forehead were tucked behind her ear.

She wore a long red gown, beautiful and dangerously sexy, but still elegant enough that no one would question her presence at the Richardson mansion. The neckline was low, revealing a bit of skin for those perverts that would underestimate her, and the slit was high, giving her just the right amount of space to move her legs in case she had to resort to violence.

Darla Richardson was throwing a party while her husband was off in Ibiza sleeping with his personal assistant. It was sad, truly, but a person that willingly burned down a homeless shelter to receive insurance money didn’t deserve her pity.

No, they deserved to lose a few pretty pearls.

She stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection and loving the weight of the pearl necklace on her collarbone. Natalia turned, eyes drawn to the glittering blue diamonds in the safe. Such a shame that such beautiful jewellery was left inside a safe to gather dust.

No, she didn’t feel bad at all.

After slipping the diamond bracelet in her clutch, she slipped the gloves off her fingertips and began to clean up after herself. Sometimes breaking into safes was such a pain in the ass.

The muffled music and laughter of the party heightened, alerting her of the unwelcomed company and she prepared herself to make up a sappy story as to why she was in the room. Natalia slightly tilted her head to the side, tucking back the blonde curls of her wig to adjust her view.

“The party is downstairs.”

That voice she recognised anywhere.

The corner of her lips turned up in a cunning smile and she turned to face her visitor. “Oops.” She flashed him her signature conniving smile, the one he grew used to and would push his buttons. “I must’ve gotten lost.”

Steve – Detective Steve Rogers was a sight to behold. In his uniform, he was sex on legs and she shouldn’t have expected any less when he was wearing a tux. 

The suit seemed to have been made for his body, it was snug in all the right places and if he hadn’t just caught her taking jewellery from the Richardson’s, she would have asked him to pin her right on the couch and have his wicked way with her.

It really sucked that they only saw each other when she was on the job. She was a professional, after all.

Steve eyed her warily, noticing her new hairdo – every time he saw her on one of those “missions,” she was sporting a new style – and raised an eyebrow. “Lost in the Richardson’s safe?”

Her tone was sweet like honey when she glanced at the safe and then at him. She shrugged, nonchalantly. “That just happened to be opened when I came in.”

He was quiet for a second, just staring at her with dark blue eyes and his hands in his pockets. His stance was brusque, taut and alert as he kept his eyes trained on her. Moments like these she wondered why he didn’t just arrest her.

He caught her red-handed, he should’ve just done it. Not that she would let him. Maybe he was just used to her escaping, dancing out of his reach.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, raising her leg to close the safe (more like to reveal a bit more skin) and turned to him with a bright smile, “this was a nice reunion, but I think I should leave. Wouldn’t want anyone becoming suspicious, now would we?”

“What did you take?”

Natalia brushed her hair over her shoulder, hips sashaying as she walked in his direction. “Your breath away.” Her grin was cheeky, playful as if she wasn’t threatened by him at all. That should probably bother him, not fascinate him.

His fingers wrapped around her arm and he pulled her, the force almost making her fall back into him. His hand was warm around her forearm, squeezing tightly but not painfully.

“Mm,” she hummed, the tip of her tongue peeking out briefly, just brushing over her top lip as she fluttered her eyelashes up at him. “I like it when you put your hands on me.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, his jaw ticking in irritation. “Natalia.” His voice was throaty and the way her name rolled off his lips should have been sinful. “I could arrest you.”

She looked down at his hand, a small smile curving her lips. “You could.” Her eyes looked up at his, but even with the heels, the height difference between them made it a little hard. “But you’re off duty.”

“I’m still a cop.” This time his voice became an octave lower as his hold kept her in place.

“And,” she tilted her head, “I’m still not handcuffed.”

He tightened his hold on her arm, teeth gritting against each other as he bowed his head to make her look at him. His stance was intimidating, along with the way his eyes darkened as they swept over her face, over her rosy lips and her sensual emerald eyes.

But he didn’t say anything, just held her close and kept staring her down.

Steve opened his mouth – maybe he would finally read her the Miranda Rights – but she stepped up on her tiptoes, trying to reach him and slid her free hand up his sculpted chest. Her fingers brushed up to his jaw, caressing the neatly trimmed beard and she pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He used to tense up when she did it, used to scowl at her in annoyance and bewilderment. But as the months went by and she kept kissing him, and he kept “trying” to arrest her, he almost expected it. His surprised expression turned into narrowed eyes and a weary sigh.

“Mm,” she pressed her body against his, discreetly sniffing his cologne. Not only was he moulded after a god, he smelled like one too. “Looks like you were right,” her lips brushed against his earlobe and her voice became lower, taking on the smoky tone that would bring any man to his knees, “the party is downstairs.”

He jolted away from her when her thigh brushed against his bulge – the bulge that was growing, because, dammit he was a man and she was the walking epitome of a sex dream.

“Natalia-”

The shriek echoing down the hall stopped him.

He frowned, releasing her arm and hesitated for a second. He should bring her into the station, he really should. It had been months, and although the evidence he had on her wasn’t great (she was good at what she did, even when she was going around kissing him like they were forbidden lovers) he had sworn an oath.

Then again, he knew what truly happened behind closed doors.

He knew that the people she stole from bought out the police force to turn the other way and allow them to do whatever the hell they wanted. Granted what she was doing wasn’t something to applaud, but at least she was helping the people in need.

That was more than what the elite did.

“These people are so rich they don’t even notice a few missing diamonds, Mister Rogers.” Those had been her words to him the very first time he caught her. Even when he pointed a gun at her and barked orders, she simply shot him a dazzling grin and kissed him.

Natalia grimaced. “Sounds like you’re needed downstairs.”

The shrieks became louder and the sound of shattering glass followed suit.

“Return-”

She turned on her heel and walked toward the door. “I’ll see you around?”

He swore under his breath, taking a few steps forward but she walked away before he could say anything else. When he walked out of the room, she was nowhere to be found.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty One, “Give and Get”

Hola, I hope that you all are doing great and that life is treating you well! How are you guys liking Niall’s new album?! From what I’ve heard of it, I’m really liking it! What are your fav songs off it? I’m sooo glad lots of shows are coming back for the Fall! I’ve been loving HTGAWM, Riverdale, SPN and lots of others! Also, I just wanted to say if there’s anything I can improve on regarding this story and writing, please let me know! I know that there are some parts I need to rewrite because they’re confusing and that the timeline is a little weird, my apologies. I hope you guys are enjoying the story and that it’s not boring, and that it is progressing.... I’m trying to be more detailed and make some things clearer so I hope things aren’t too bad. Let me know what you think! Well, I’ll keep this little message short and let you get to the story :) This is a pretty juicy chapter if I do say so myself ;) PLEASE PLEASE let me know what you guys think, I’m sooo curious to hear your reactions especially to this chapter! Enjoy! c: 

Click here for past chapters of The Assistant! 

I know that he doesn’t believe me.

“Yer not a good liar, ya know that?” he answers, lifting his eyebrows ever so slightly. I nod softly, looking around awkwardly without an idea of what to do, or say. “Did sumbody do this t’ you?” Harry continues, taking another step when there aren’t many left. I inhale nervously when the pad of his thumb softly brushes over the healing cut at the edge of my scalp that I couldn’t as easily hide the scab and bruises of this morning.

I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t. Because if I do, I’m afraid all of the words pent up inside of me that wish to free his ears with the truth will all come rushing out. No matter how much I try to stop them. And that the crazy beating of my heart will make them go all over the place, just like his touch has done to me. A gentle ‘heeey’ drops from his lips, making me look up at him and into his soft caring eyes that belong to the real Harry. My Harry. With courage bubbling up inside of me, my lips begin to part when a loud voice cuts in.

Angry wet raindrops fall on my shoulders, piercing through my sweater and shooting ice into my veins. I wrap the thin piece of clothing around me tighter, cursing myself from this morning for not having brought any kind of coat to make up for this pathetic sweater and this chilly rain. And cursing myself for forgetting to put gas in my car yesterday, landing me on the tube for today and in this wet Fall weather. As I walk under the faint glow of the wet streetlamps, my shivering body grows colder and colder with every painful step. Icy drops run down my face, the only relief I find in this sudden rain is the numbing of the stings and throbs painting my body. Splashes of rain puddles hit my legs, soaking through the sheer black tights donning my legs. You only have one and half more blocks to go, Becky, you can do this, I think hopefully. And with that, I soldier on. Soaked to the bone and beaten down.

My feet squeak along the wooden floor, leaving tiny invisible puddles behind me as the warmth of the flat begins to thaw my frozen body. I drop my bag on the table in the entryway, toeing off my shoes and leaving them where they land. I plod my way across the room and into the kitchen, unbeknownst to the movements my body makes. 

Open the cabinet. Take down a mug. Pick up the tea kettle. Fill it with water. Turn on the burner. Set it down. Walk over to the kitchen island. Pull out a chair. Sit down. My eyes fix themselves on one spot on the wall, staying there and no motivation to move.

Click!

Thud!

“Hey, I’m just stopping back to grab something I forgot. Boys don’t really have hair straighteners, I realized only after I left the flat,” Skye’s joking words poke through my hazy bubble, but that’s all they do. “Becky. Wait . . What the bloody hell happened to you today?! You look like you got run over by a car, Ree. You’re bleeding!” she almost shouts, voice rising in volume as she clears the room and comes to cup my cheeks with her warm hands.

“I’m fine, it’s old,” I reply quietly, meeting her eyes after she turned my head to make sure I’m looking at her.

“You are not fine, Ree. You have t-this gash in your scalp and a cut in your lips, both covered in dried blood. Did somebody do this to you?!”

“No, I-I just fell. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes,” I answer, attempting nonchalance as I step down from my swively chair and go to tend to the whistling teapot.

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met, always have been and always will. Now I’m not bloody leaving or going anywhere for that matter, until you tell me what really happened, Ree. Actually, wait- you stay here and don’t you move your bum one bleeding inch!” she points at me, raising her eyebrows above her sky blue eyes surrounded by black eyeliner.

I mindlessly remove the kettle from the heat, pouring the blistering hot water into the yellow mug, watching the water mix with the Peach tea bag.

“Now come here,” Skye orders moments later and I turn around, surprised to find her gently but a little forcefully leading me to the island once again. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog, Skye, don’t give me commands.”

“I don’t care, just sit down and let me take care of you,” she replies, flicking her wavy hair half the color of bone and the other half sky blue to over her shoulder. My gaze follows her hands as they reach for the brown bottle and cotton pads. “Now are you going to tell me what happened, or not?”

Putting the bottle down hastily, she gently pushes my damp curls away from my face and runs the pad along my forehead. I suck in a breath through my teeth, wincing at the terrible stinging on my forehead.

“Ree?” she sighs, giving me a hard look in the eyes. My lips don’t move and neither does hers. A sadness I don’t want to look anymore into hangs around her eyes as she runs the pad along my forehead a few more times before discarding it, red blotches staining the cotton. “My God, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve met,” she sighs, the package crinkling as she removes another pad from the bag and soaks it with the hydrogen peroxide.

The pad is inches away from my forehead again when tears begin to fall down my cheeks out of nowhere, my lips creasing with them and my eyes falling shut. Skye’s face falls and she discards the pad, pulling my face against her chest and tucking my head under her chin.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok,” she repeatedly hums against my hair, planting kiss after kiss on my damp ringlets. Arms around my neck keeping me close. “Everything’s going to be ok. You’re going to be ok, Ree.”

If only I could believe that too.

And if only the thought of giving him up didn’t scare me so damn much.

My weekend consisted of cuddles on the couch with Skye in our PJs, who decided to cancel her trip last minute, instead staying back to have a two-day long movie marathon with moi. She took care of me, making me a grilled cheese when I wanted, and stirring up chocolate milk for me when I wanted that too, and tending to my cuts a few more times until they were scabbing up and could fend for themselves. She didn’t push for the story again, but I knew it was on the end of her tongue and it was only a matter of time until she’d catch me off guard and make me spill.

With Monday looming closeby, I soaked up the last hours of freedom until eight am rolled around and I dragged myself out of bed. With a heavy lunchbox courtesy of Skye’s rare cooking excursion this weekend of Taco Soup and garlic bread, I head off into the chilly bright morning. Slipping into my forgotten front seat of my car, I start up the old thing and only then remember my lack of gas issue. But when I look at the gage, it’s hugging the bold F. Oh, Skye, what would I do without you, I think to myself with the warm hint of a smile clinging to my lips.

I put the car in Park and turn the keys until the hum of the engine is no more. With a deep breath, I peak a look at myself in the rearview mirror. Loose chestnut curls barely touching the shoulders of my violet peacoat and the smooth brown dress underneath it. By habit, my eyes dart to the slightly discolored area of skin just meeting my scalp and the dark crease in my bottom lip. If you don’t look too closely, you can’t notice them with the makeup and the colored lip balm. Sighing, I grab my purse and lunchbox and leave my car for the long parking garage in search of the elevator that will take me up to the seventeenth floor, and back to Harry.

The main floor of seventeen is doused in a quiet hum, albeit for the occasional phone ringing and small conversation among the Cubiclers tucked away in their cubicles by the elevator. Dark clouds hover on the other side of the clear pristine windows, threatening to burst at any moment as they cast dreariness over the black tiled floor and sleek gray granite walls of the firm’s main floor. The circular fluorescent bulbs hidden in the black wooden ceiling work hard as the rain nears, and stab needles into my head that still dully aches after three days.

My MacBook sounds its typical whoosh as its screen comes to life. I open my email with slow fingers, relieved and yet surprised to find only a handful of emails waiting for me. A handful or sometimes two less than usual. Thank God.

My fingers float across the keys with learned ease, composing a reply to a current client asking for some more information and certain documents that are the usual after Harry liked what he heard in the face to face consultation from Friday. I include a timeframe for when they’ll hear from us next, before sending the email off.

The day drags on with its hits and its misses. My time is spent answering emails and typing up new ones, retrieving and delivering case files for Harry that land on his empty desk as he sits in a courtroom across town. Last but not least, I take another crack at filing, rounding out another few sizable stacks before lunch arrives and I’m knee to knee with Asher in the breakroom scarfing down my soup and sharing my cookies.

3 o’clock rolls around out of nowhere, the rain clouds far gone as I savor the sliver of sunlight peeking out from behind the now fluffy clouds. Harry’s weekly list dinged in my inbox hours earlier and has grabbed my attention ever since, checking off a few things already until I decided to devote the rest of the day for filing and then hopefully finishing out the rest tomorrow. I kneel down and pick up the granola bar I dropped trying to take it out of one of the drawers of my desk. My hip bumps my creaky old desk as I leave for Harry’s office to get on that filing. The voices of Green Day, The Stones and Fleetwood Mac among others swim around me as names and numbers occupy my mind, as bright warm sunshine peeks in through Harry’s windows. I don’t catch one glimpse of him for the rest of the day, or of anybody else of significant importance much to my pleasure. I leave the rest of the files for tomorrow, gleeful at the sight of only a few stacks left and the bubbling hope of how happy Harry will be to see them all done. A new song by Vance Joy fills my car as I pull out of the parking garage and begin to make my way home.

My alarm clock rings too quickly the next morning, waking me up with a sad frown at having to leave that wonderful dream where I was on a beach with Derek from Teen Wolf. Mmmmm. Fucking alarm. I stumble out of bed and whiz through my morning routine with heavy limbs and heavy eyes. My Tuesday is a blur of coffee, emails, to-do lists and dreading doing the rest of those files. But with a new album and sneakily watching some more American Horror Story, I get through the day along with Skye’s soup and cookies.

With the secondhand hugging the 11 and the shorthand inching towards the 5, I decide to call it a day and make a break for my desk. Hiding away thick files and stacks of empty ones, I tidy up my desk and put everything back where it was this morning before deciding to head out. But when I’m reaching for my purse, I happen to look up and find Harry walking in my direction. Well, so much for thinking I could avoid you today, the words course through my skull as I heave a silent sigh at watching him arrive in front of my desk.

“Did ya drop something’?” he questions, leaving out a greeting as his striking maroon suit tightens around him when he bends over to pick up something off the floor. His eyebrows quirk together as he looks down at a white envelope, and a second later I feel my heart cease in my chest. “Hmm, ‘s addressed t’ me, I wonder what it ‘s,” he continues, apparently thinking that because of that he can go ahead and help himself and open it although it wasn’t sealed and the content already had begun to spill out. 

I scramble around my desk and over to him, not so calmly or chalantly ripping it from his hands. But when he looks up and over to me, I realize I was a fraction of a second too late because the creased letter tight in my hand is open just enough for the words stuck to it to be known to the world. Thick emotions paint his face all over, creasing the space between his eyebrows as they knit together sadly with his puppy dog eyes locked on me. Lips trembling to open, but not fully getting there. All as my heart races uncontrollably, regret filling my body quickly with my chest growing tight and my cheeks hot. Realization dawns on me, making me think back to bumping into my desk on my way to file some stuff. Shit. Devastation slowly sticks to every inch of skin on his face and seeps into his green eyes framed by thick lashes.

“Becks,” he rasps, hand going to his hair as if it’s his own unique coping mechanism. “What's this? I-I mean I know what it ‘s, but I don’ get it. ‘m so bloody confused . . yer quttin’?” Harry croaks, words coming out fast and then slow, and sloppy and crazed. “If you want less hours or t’ get off earlier, I can do that. Even if ya want more hours, we can figure that out. Or if ya wan’ a lighter workload, we can work sumthin’ out, Becks, I promise. Jus’ tell me what you need and ‘ll make it happen, jus’ pleas don’ leave.”

Wow. His lips sputter to a stop, as my heart does something the same and I’m left all of a sudden speechless, but with so much to say just a minute ago. Or so I thought. My heart only thumps faster and harder when he comes closer to me at the end of his plea.

“I-I’m not leaving, Harry. I-I just- I don’t know . . . “

“What d’ya mean? Tha’s a two weeks notice letta I just read. T-this isn’t makin’ sense, Becks,” he replies in a huff, throwing up a hand in exasperation before it falls heavy with a plop against his leg. Yeah, I don’t know, either. “Wha’s bloody goin’ on?” he outright asks, eyes glued to me and expecting an answer. And a good one at that.

“I have it because I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Why’re you thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’? What happened?” he questions quickly with sad eyes, and when they stray from my face to land on my forehead he steps forward, and I suddenly feel the urge to shrink into myself. If only that were possible. “Becks, yer head - ‘s gashed open, what’d you do, love?”

“I’m just clumsy, I tripped and fell,” I answer, looking away from his prying eyes and then back to find something in his that I don’t like.

I know that he doesn’t believe me.

“Yer not a good liar, ya know that?” he answers, lifting his eyebrows ever so slightly. I nod softly, looking around awkwardly without an idea of what to do, or say. “Did sumbody do this t’ you?” Harry continues, taking another step when there aren’t many left. I inhale nervously when the pad of his thumb softly brushes over the healing cut at the edge of my scalp that I couldn’t as easily hide the scab and bruises of this morning.

I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t. Because if I do, I’m afraid all of the words pent up inside of me that wish to free his ears with the truth will all come rushing out. No matter how much I try to stop them. And that the crazy beating of my heart will make them go all over the place, just like his touch has done to me. A gentle ‘heeey’ drops from his lips, making me look up at him and into his soft caring eyes that belong to the real Harry. My Harry. With courage bubbling up inside of me, my lips begin to part when a loud voice cuts in.

Jennings.

“Harry! I got Mr. Bishop on the line about the crazy Tillings case that’s all over the news. You know the one, with the wife stabbing her kids to death . . Well, there’s some stuff he wants to talk to you about, like maybe even hiring you for the Defense instead of Tomlinson,” he nearly shouts, with a foot out of the door of the large meeting room across from us. Several of the big lawyers like Stone, Bradley, Mickey, and Rose are visible through the half drawn blinds strewn over the windows acting as walls around the secretive room. It looks like the judge interrupted an important meeting, another one that Harry just so happened to skip out on. 

Harry sighs, muttering an ‘I’ll be there in a sec’ to Pete, before turning back to me. Hand back to himself and eyes full of questions, ones that I don’t want to answer. But I do. I just don’t know if I can.

“We’re not done here. ‘ll see you tomorrow’ before court and we’re settling all this then, alright?” he says with a wag of his ringed finger, and I nod at him. It’s really not that much, but it seems like more when he squeezes my arm as he holds my gaze before leaving with a goodbye.

Well, I guess my secret’s out. 

I inadvertently avoided my phone and emails for the rest of the night, and the next morning until I pulled into the parking garage attached to the gleaming skyscraper that I call my work. With my head down and the word ‘avoid’ repeating over and over in my head, I quietly make my appearance and try my best to slip away to my desk unnoticed. My heart pounds a little as my email loads, the innermost part of me dreading the long list of new emails waiting for me and the possibility one or a few might be from Harry.

A strange calmness covers me when his name isn’t found anywhere in my new emails on this dreary and cold Tuesday morning. Nervously, I pull up the weekly list and double check his agenda for the day, even though I was the one who wrote it and I should remember. But I wrote it up weeks ago.

Tuesday, November 9th

Court for the O’Pete’s Case 10AM - All day

Dinner with friend at The Grand 5pm

The plan for the day is simple and to the point, with some room for leeway and adjustments which I won’t be surprised if he makes. And a later start to his morning, which I know by now that he certainly likes. But not today, because guess who’s going to be Mr. Early. Ugh. I busy my mind this morning by answering emails and returning calls, peeking a glance every now and then in the direction of the elevator expecting to see him pop up out of nowhere. The first few times I look over without a hint of his appearance, but the fifth time I watch the elevator doors open and spit him out.

Oh no.

I know I can’t, but I almost try to hide behind my desk. Drop my head and busy myself with something. Turn around and make it look like I’m grabbing something from behind me. Crouch down and dig in the lowermost filing cabinet.

“Hey.” an internal groan ripples through me at the remembering that of course, he has to walk right past my desk on his way to his office. Could I be any more stupid? Probably not. “I wanna um talk t’ you ‘bout yesterday, ya busy?” the raspy words roll off his tongue fast. I slowly sit up to look at him, but it can’t be slow enough. His long curls gleaming wet after what must have been a morning shower, his nose and cheeks dotted with red from the London cold.

“Yeah no I’m fine,” I reply hastily, my words tumbling out before I can tell them to stop. Dread and nervousness guide my actions as I turn to face him fully and close my laptop.

“Kay, c’mon then. I wann’ talk in my office.”

Gulp.

Pushing my chair in, I leave my desk and follow his heavy footsteps down the hall and around the corner. The thump thump of my heart picks up as his drying curls bounce on his shoulders, and his shiny new YSL boots click clack on the tile flooring.

Here we go.

“Sit down,” he instructs, waving a hand to the black leather chairs in front of his cluttered desk. I do as he says, crossing my legs and folding my hands as I watch him set his black leather messenger bag on his desk and get situated as I wring my hands nervously. 

I watch his careful and rather rushed movements, until he’s hung up his jacket and fixed his hair. “Now le’s talk,” Harry sighs as he walks towards me and sits down on the corner of his desk to face me. Okay then.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Don’ lie t’ me. You know I wan’ t’ talk ‘bout that two-week letter I found of yers,” he goes on with a huff.

“I know, but there’s nothing to be said. I changed my mind and decided not to give it to you.”

“Well yer mind had t’ have been made up pretty damn good ‘bout quittin’ if ya felt so compelled t’ write it in tha first place,” he argues, looking away after a moment with a shake of his head.

I take a cue and shake mine too, frustrated at the way he’s acting and how big of a deal he’s making about this.

“You were never supposed to see it,” I comment softly in admittance, looking up from my lap and to him. But he won’t look at me. A hand adorned with rings is in his hair as he looks away, then stands up and walks over to where midmorning sunlight streams in through the polished window.

“What, are ya not happy enuf here, Holte?” he asks, throwing up a hand that he seconds later stuffs in the pocket of his tight black pants. It’s almost painful to hold back a snort at his remark, or to chime in with a ‘duh’ or an ‘are you serious’. “I thought we’d figured out our own li’l system and that you were comfortable an’ happy here”

When I don’t answer, I can’t ignore his heavy sigh that pokes at me and somehow makes this worse. “What can I do t’ make ya happier, huh?” Harry says softly, but not in a nice way, and more like in it a perturbed way like he doesn’t want to have this conversation any more than I do.

I don’t know about that.

His question catches me off guard a little, and I almost want to take it the wrong way. But things aren’t like that, and what’s to say that they ever will be more. Turning my mind to something else to get it off that, I start to think of what I should tell him. Well for starters, you could stop dating that bitch of a Barbie and that would take away something like half of my problems. Then there’s maybe treating me with some respect and decency, and not just when you like or those certain days when you decide we’re friends.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I decide to say, but I regret it almost as soon as I say it, because he’s Mr. Doesn’t Take No For An Answer.

“Why can’ ya just talk t’ me,” he relents, something sad and real creasing his brows and painted in his eyes. I start to fall for it and the truth itches to come out.

Briiiiiiiing!

He huffs and his gaze lingers on me willing me to speak as he seems to wait it out to see if it’s going to ring a second time and a third time and a fourth. And just when I gather a little nerve he reaches out and picks up the phone. “This is Harry,” he answers, pulling his lips in and pressing them together as he listens to the person on the line. I watch his eyes dart around and he nods with a ‘mmhmm’ before grabbing a pad of paper and a pen, jotting down something important.

I can hardly take the mix of awkwardness and tension for a minute longer, and I stand up and make it for the door.

“Becks, wait.”

The name and its sudden return hit me like a wall, hard and out of nowhere. My lips tremble with all of the things that I could say, and my limbs stutter with the things I could do. I decide on one, and I turn around. “I’m not going anywhere, so would you stop worrying about it?” I tell him, watching his face donning an expression I don’t want to read as the phone is still pressed to his ear, his hand cupping the speaker.

I think I hear a small sigh, but I don’t know because I’m already turning around. A harsh clud! tickles my ears and just as the icy metal welcomes my fingers, a warmth arrives on my shoulder making me spin around to find it.

“Please don’ leave, I still wanna talk t’ you. Ya’ve been actin’ so weird lately and there’s a cut on yer head and ya dropped a two weeks letta’ that ya say wasn’ real or sumthin’ . . . Will ya jus’ tell me wha’s goin’ on already?” Harry almost pleads, the ‘please’ stinging in his eyes. I can’t do it. The pleading and concern drowning in his eyes does it. It gets me.

“You won’t believe me,” I almost mumble, unsure of if he heard me until his quickfire ‘tell me’ knocks that down.

“Ya underestimate me sumtimes.”

A soft ‘okay’ falls from my lips recklessly a few breaths later, just like the rest of what I’ve said in the last minute. A shaky breath trickles into my lungs, my heart picking up speed as words jumble around in my head. It’s only made worse when his hand placed on my shoulder that’s hard to forget gives a little squeeze, egging me on.

“It’s um Amber, s-she keeps harassing me, Harry. I put that file on your desk the other day and I know that she took the crime scene photos out and did something with them just to sabotage me, or something. Also other times when she comes in, she always has to give me shit somehow: accidentally knocking over a coffee on my desk, accidentally hitting the end button on my phone when I’m on a call, or her favorite being to tell me that I’m not allowed in your office when you’re not here. I’ve told her time and time again that I am, but she won’t believe me,” I talk fast, shoving the words out into the free air before I stop myself, or before he does. My eyes jutt away from his, far too nervous and scared to wonder what they’re holding because his poker face doesn’t work on me. And if I see something I don’t like, I’m afraid I won’t get the next part out, because of that and the dryness eating up my throat. “A-and Friday I was doing filing in your office, and from the second she helps herself in she won’t leave me alone to get out because ‘I’m not allowed’. She was almost screaming at me, and she literally dragged me by the arm out an-and threw me at the door but I missed and hit the trimming o-on the wall, giving me a bloody fat lip and doing that to my forehead,” I divulge, sputtering to a hurried stop before another word takes it out of me and I’m spilling tears on his shoes.

My chest shakes with each hasty breath and the violent thuds of my heart pounding against my ribcage. Sweat slickens my palms I didn’t realize I was folding together so hard, the tips of my fingers white against my knuckles that I instantly release. But then they start to shake. Tears prick at the back of my eyes, ready to make their debut as I nibble nervously at my lip. Dread fills me, mixing with my nerves and anxiety and fear and everything else to make the worst feeling ever. It surpasses the gut-wrenching anxiousness of sitting at your desk in class waiting for the teacher to hand you your graded test. Or being statue still behind the wheel during your driving test afraid one little mistake will make you fail. Or the impending drop of a rollercoaster that makes you feel like your stomach is going to jump into the sky along with the rest of you.

The uncomfortable eeriness of silence pools around us, slowly building an invisible distance between him and I. A distance I’m afraid will be magnified by just a few words from him. Words that he could spill at any second. The waiting is always what kills you. I get ready to speak, new words ready to spring off the tip of my tongue.

“Tha-that’s not Amber, Becks, she’d neva do that kinda stuff, let alone give sumbody a gash on their head and a fat lip,” Harry finally says, words quick and sharp that are accented with a nervous laugh. Gulp. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach at the drop of a hat- or at the second he disagrees. A sudden angry heat fills my body all over, joined by a sourness spilling into my stomach. I think the toast and oats from this morning are going to be reappearing real soon. “‘m sorry ya think that, Becks, but I know her and she wouldn’ do that kinda stuff t’ sumbody, I swear,” he finishes. As if I needed to hear it a second time.

Braving it, I meet his eyes and find them creased with something sad that I don’t give a shit to decode, but I know they look even worse when they lay on mine. I take a step back, feeling his hand slide from its place on my shoulder. He steps towards me and almost grabs my hand, but I pull it out of his grasp. “Don’t,” I almost spit through gritted teeth, my heart beating loud and fast in my ears. My name starts on his lips, and I shake my head. No. “O-of course you didn’t believe me. God, what was I thinking? Why would you anyways?! Your head is so fucking wrapped up in her that you can’t see anything else but what she wants you to see, Harry!” I explode, words flying places without a thought. Because who gives a flying fuck.

Rage seethes through my veins hot and fast. A sudden boom! of thunder echoes through the room, big fat raindrops hitting the window with pits and pats. The former rays of sunshine nowhere to be seen as smoky clouds dominate the sky. 

Yeah, things sure do change fast.

“Becks, c’mon. ‘ve known her for years, I know she wouldn’ do this stuff yer accusing her of!” he replies, throwing his hands up and doing a half sigh-half gasp in exasperation. “Why would she anyways, what reason has she got t’ harass you if that were even true?”

“She hates me, Harry! Ever since the first day she met me she’s had it out for me. I’ve done nothing to her, but she insists on making my life hell ever since. I don’t know why, m-maybe she feels threatened by me or something, because you’ve kept me around for so long and because I’m a fricken girl! Why are you asking me? You should be asking her, Harry!” I almost shout, but at this point I don’t think either of us cares anymore. A guttural groan leaves his lips, a hand caught in his hair next messing it up further as he keeps his distance rightly.

“I know her, Becks. I know she wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Somebody dragged me by the arm and threw me to the ground, Harry! It wasn’t some ghost, I saw who it was. It was bloody daylight out and I’m sure you could ask anybody around here and they could tell you they saw her here at that time on that day, and maybe even what I looked like afterward!” I yell at him, finding my hands in my hair next, feeling the urge to pull it out. Palms sweaty, goosebumps covering every inch of my body and my brain turned on to fight mode. The sour feeling in my stomach grows, and next my eyes begin to blur ever so slightly and I don’t know how much longer I can fight. Or how much more. “W-why don’t you believe me, Harry? Why would I ever lie to you?” I relent, throwing a frustrated hand up to have it smack against my leg. My words crack at the very end and I shake my head with a sad smile.

It looks like a light clicks on in his head, filtering to his eyes as his lips part slowly. His forehead shiny with the same kind of clammy and angry sweat that covers my body. I blink at the blurriness, but it only grows worse.

“Amber’s not like that, she’s neva been,” he continues, refusing to give her up by holding onto her honor. It makes me sick. And if I stay here another minute longer, I’m afraid that I will be. “Becks, y-yer just confused o-or ya took sumthin’ she did wrong.”

“Wow, you’ve really got yourself hooked on believing all of her lies, Harry. You really have no clue of what kind of person you’re dating . . And I can’t believe I ever thought th-that there was some good down deep inside of you,” I spit, the anger and intensity falling as the words hit the air and my fight leaves me too, leaving the last words hanging there in my exhausted voice.

His grief-stricken face drowned in a mixture of sadness, confusion, and anger stare back at me in a blurry haze that disappears with my next blink. Hot tears trail down my cheeks, my whole body heavy. My heart. My stomach. My head. My eyes. His boots click when he inches towards me, but I move away by habit. A habit I didn’t know that I suddenly have. It hits him too, and the hurt etched into his face deepens from seconds before.

My heart wrenches at the sight of him. And the immediate disgust. I spin around, dying to get out of here and as far away from him as I can get. I swipe hastily at the tears flying down my cheeks, the clack of my heels muffled in my ears where my heart beats ravenously faster and faster and so do his words that play like a tape in my head.

It doesn’t stop when the sounds of seventeen come back to me, or people passing me, or the bile beginning to rise in my throat. Or even when I’m pushing past the doors. Or when I’m emptying the remnants of this morning’s breakfast from the pit of my stomach. His words and the look on his face still drill into my head, and when another wave hits me I heave into the toilet as the cold ridges of the dirty tile dig into my boney knees. Once it passes, I’m not yet out of the woods as sobs wreck my body and only grow worse when I play over and over the words he said.

And it only amounts when I think that maybe just maybe he’ll burst in here any second calling for me and admit his fault. But as the minutes grow and my cheeks become wetter, I sit back and curl against the partition of the stall and cry harder. Because he isn’t coming. He never will. 

He’ll never be that prince in shining armor I’ve wanted him to be this whole time.

[itslucywonderlandmadness]

And She’ll Love With All She Has

[AO3][FF.Net][Part I][Part II]

Summary:

A painful ending, a calm hello and a girl filled with so much love. [Katsuki x Fem!Izuku] [Shoto x Fem! Izuku]

-

Part III; I love you

"The cancer is back again, this time it's much more aggressive than usual, as well it's growing at a much faster rate than the last time."

Katsuki only stared at the doctor as he continued to spew useless information about his current situation. He knew that it would be back, there was a fifty-fifty chance when he over went chemotherapy and the surgery to remove the tumors growing inside him.

However, it didn't stop the deep anger and sadness to build in his chest. He was only twenty-five, his career as a hero over before it even flourished and he had ended a relationship he didn't want to end.

He knew if Izumi found out about the tumors, it would destroy her. He knows how bad she got after the battle between All Might and the villain All for One. How it almost destroyed her as she watched the man she considered as a father slowly become weaker as the days passed by.

When he decided to end their relationship before it grew harder to let her go (even though he didn't want to let her go), Katsuki knew he didn't want to see her smile break because of a situation she couldn't save someone from.

All Might was barely able to stay alive, laying in the hospital bed – hooked up with many machines to keep him alive, when Izumi had first made her big hit as Heroine Deku and only passed away as Classroom 1-A started to rise through the charts after few weeks of graduating.

He has seen how devastated she was when All Might pass away and he knew she wouldn't have been able to handle being in a relationship with him while he dealt with the tumors along with her relationship with All Might and their situation.

He knew he made the right call to break up with her.

Even if it cost losing her to someone else.

"She's getting married," Kirishima stated, sitting across from Katsuki as they both sat in his apartment's kitchen.

The blonde frown before he let out a deep sigh, "It was bound to happen, that half-and-half bastard didn't hesitate to get close to Izumi after we broke up," Katsuki grumbled, poking the fish on his plate.

From all his classmates, he would say that the red-head idiot was his closet friend. The one who continued to bargain in his life and discovering why he was slowly weakening when he was only sixteen and should be growing stronger instead.

Was the one who helps cover for him so Izumi wouldn't discover that something was wrong with him as well with his classmates.

"Cancer… it's back,"

He was the one that knew how much Katsuki hates cancer that grew and once more growing inside him. It has caused many step-backs, many difficult situations that Katsuki hated to deal with, but this time, Kirishima knew that Katsuki hates how he can not fight it any longer without the whole world knowing, without Izumi finding out.

Kirishima only frowned, his eyes held no pity but sadness and helplessness. There was nothing he could do for his friend.

"Have you told your parents?"

"Not yet," Katsuki murmured, placing the chopsticks on the plate and giving up on eating altogether for the day.

-

His parent wasn't happy about the news, his strong and proud mother reduced into tears and anger of feeling helplessness.

His father at loss of what to do with his only son. Feeling the same as he felt when he was first kidnapped by the League of Villains.

There was no happy ending for his life and his parents knew that they would be burying their child instead of watching him become the hero he always wished to become.

It was a sad night for all three of them.

-

The invitation was simple. There was no bold colors or expensive paper.

It was a simple invitation to Izumi's and the half-and-half bastard's wedding, detailing the information and the set date.

He didn't cry when he was first diagnosed with cancer, didn't cry when he broke up with Izumi, didn't even cry when the doctor broke the news to him that the cancer was back.

However, he wasn't sure what he was feeling when he finished reading the invitation, Izumi's familiar handwriting printed on the bottom of the letter. Filled with much emotion like usual, her hopeful pleads with him being able to come to her wedding.

I miss my best friend, please come to my wedding. I wish for you to be part of it, Kaachan.

He wasn't sure what to do. For the first time in his miserable life, he was feeling deep loss and despair.

-

He steps down as a hero, claiming a medical issue for the time being. Chemotherapy is much harsher than the last time he had it. His body was breaking down at a much faster pace. He's just lucky his hair wasn't falling yet, or it would be a tall tell sign that something was most defiantly wrong with him.

He ignored the messages from most of his classmates that usually worked with him, but he especially ignores half-and-half's phone calls. He didn't want to deal millions of questions and demands for answers.

And didn't want to deal with the bastard's words and fucking being honest.

He wasn't telling her.

-

"Something is going on,"

"What the fuck are you talking about, you shitty bastard," Katsuki all but growls at the male.

Todoroki only stares at him, his face not changing one bit as Katsuki whips his mouth.

"There is something wrong, Kirishima knows and he's helping you hide it. The teacher knows as well because it's their duty to know, but they won't let us know because that would break confidentiality between you and them," The male states.

"So, fucking what? It's not your goddamn business,"

"No, but you do know, that Izumi still cares about you, and she will later find out," Todoroki said, "And when she finds out she'll be upset as to why you didn't let her know, even after your messy breakup."

With one more stare, the teen turned to leave, leaving an angered blond screaming in the boy's bathroom.

-

The ceremony was a small one, with close friends and family members. Katsuki hid behind the behind them. Avoiding any small talk with everyone and just watched closely with a scowl on his face, trying to fight nausea and fatigue.

"Kaachan?" It's the familiar voice that draws him from his inner struggles. Twisting around, he caught Izumi in her wedding dress.

It was a simple western traditional dress, showing off her shoulders. Lace going down her arms and covering her dress, and pooling behind her.

Her messy green curls were pulled into a tight bun, allowing few ringlets to fall around her face. Her makeup was very light, making her green eyes pop even more than usual, along with her freckles.

"D-Deku," He whispered before shaking his head and glaring at her, "What are you doing here, you damn nerd?"

The green hair bride didn't seem surprised by his reaction, but smile warmly at him, "I hoped Kaachan would come, so I am glad you did."

Katsuki was thrown back by her answer before he clucks his tongue, "Why the fuck would you want to invite me to your damn wedding with the half-and-half bastard?"

"Because you are still my friend… my childhood friend. You have been there in my life and I know we went our separate ways when we broke up, but you'll always be a big part in my life and I want you to continue being there.

"Why? Why the fuck do you continue spewing the same thing over and over?" He almost screamed, clenching his hands on his sides. He broke up with her, tried to make her push him away so she wouldn't become hurt when he did die.

So why does she continue to insist on them being friends?

"Plus, my dream for being number one hero hasn't changed and while I know you are dealing some stuff, you are also in the line to become the number one hero, so I won't give up fighting you for that spot!"

And that hit him hard.

"Just because you are marrying that half-and-half bastard, don't think you got the upper hand, I'LL BE THE NUMBER ONE HERO BEFORE YOU KNOW IT!"

He was breathing heavily when he finished, before feeling nausea hitting him hard. Swallowing heavily, he glanced back at Izumi, she was looking at him with a forlorn look on her face.

"You never change," she said softly, "thank you for coming, Kaachan."

He watched her smile at him before she turns around when her name was called out by Uraraka, still getting along with her since high school.

"It is your fault you broke up with her, so stop staring at her like that," Twisting around he glared at Todoroki, the bastard still looking the same with his impassive face.

"Shut it you damn bastard, its none of your business as to why I broke up with her," Katsuki growls at him.

"It is when you keep staring at Izumi like she's everything too you," Todoroki stated.

"Damn it, I don't need this right now," Katsuki stated, pushing past the man in front of him but he stopped before he left the building, "… just take care of her since I can't."

Todoroki didn't say anything but stare at the blond leave, taking in his words as he observed Bakugo's face look defeated.

-

"Kaachan… I love you," She whispered softly.

Katsuki looked up from his book. Sitting across from him was Izumi, her book placed down as she stared at him with her big green eyes. Her face flushes bright red as she nibbled her bottom lip.

He knew he couldn't tell her the words verbally, but he was more of action anyways. Pulling her into a deep kiss, he held her tightly against his body.

It wasn't rough, but it wasn't like their usual soft pecks they have throughout the days. The kiss was deep and filled with deep raw emotion he has for her.

Pulling away, he opened his eyes and stared at her flush face, placing his forehead against hers, he pulled her one more time into a deep kiss, pushing her down to the floor. She was his as he was hers.

He would be all her first because even if he can't say the words out loud, he wanted her to be his. And damn it, she was making it too easy for him to continue falling for her.

'I love you too.'

[mintyvan]

29

prompt bob is in love with a wild brash girl and she helps him grow out of his shell a lil. + bob fluff

note Hello, friends. I’m kind of drunk as I post this. I hope it isn’t shit..... love ya loads.

___________________

“Oh, come on, Bob, don’t be so nervous,” you said to him, filing your nails in a clear acrylic chair. “It’s just another one of those foofy interviews for the fans.”

“But what they think about me matters, Y/N” he said, pacing, waiting for the interviewer to get there.

“You know that whatever you say, they’re still going to love you, right, angel boy?” You stood, looking him in the eye. “Even if your voice cracks or you can’t make eye contact, they’re going to take that with love. You’re the least problematic out of them all, anywho. Just chill.”

The interview went by smoothly with you there, hovering in the background. Although a few of the lads were confused as to why your presence was needed at all, Bob was happy to have you there as a good luck charm. He’d become bolder in his personal relationships just by being around you, but it was harder for him to be bolder on camera for some reason. Probably the classic “I prefer to be behind the camera, not in front of it,” cliché.

“So what are we doing today?” Bob asked after the interview, trying to keep up with you as you strutted down the street in your black chunky boots. Cobblestone? No problem.

“Let’s go skydiving.”

“Noooooooo way.”

“Or get day drunk.”

“I haven’t gotten drunk in months.”

“Now’s a better time than any! We’re both off today and tomorrow.”

“I guess.”

“Please, Bob. We’re here in this beautiful city for two more days and then I won’t see you in who knows how long. Live a little.”

You flagged down a taxi with a wave of your hand, and Bob smirked at how easily you could carry yourself in a city you’ve never been to.

On the ride back to the hotel, you read through your Twitter feed, laughing obnoxiously at a thread of old Vines (your summer would have been a lot better if Vine hadn’t been #cancelled), and at one point you were laughing so hard you started choking on your own spit. Bob started laughing too when he saw your face go all red and puffy, and then the cab driver started chuckling, and all of a sudden you three were laughing as you careened down the foreign streets. When the laughter died down, and everything fell silent in the rumbling taxi, the awkwardness of it made you snort again.

You were still on the verge of bursting into a fit of laughter when you flung the door to you and Bob’s hotel room open. While he took a shower, you busied yourself by scrolling down your Twitter feed again. You lied down on the bed on your back, head overhanging the edge. Your eyes started to feel heavy from the rush of blood.

“Hey Bob, what’s your sign?”

“What?” he asked, curls dripping wet from the shower. From your upside down vision, you could see him running fingers with product through the ringlets as he looked into the mirror.

“Your astrological sign? Mine is Aries. Been reading through these tweets for a little bit.”

“Gemini.”

“Ooh! I found a tweet about you. It says here you’re clever, energetic, imaginative, witty, and adaptable. How very you.”

“Am I all of those things?”

“Of course you are babe.” A pause went by as you read another tweet. “Oooooh. Listen to this. Apparently you’re also impulsive, restless, superficial, indecisive, and even devious.” That gleaned a chuckle from Bob.

“I knew the good things, but wow, the weak traits? Bob, I’d love to see how those play out sometime.”

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around some more.”

“Ha! I guess so. Hey, how about we go bowling? I haven’t been since I was, what, seven?”

****

You stepped up to the alley, and took a deep breath. You raised the ball up to your chest, and swung backward, and then forward. Your arm already hurt with exertion, and it was just the first shot. When you let go, you exhaled, and the ball rolled, and rolled, and rolled, until….

Right in the gutter.

“Fuck!” you yelled, a little too loudly considering the children to the right of you, but Bob just laughed. You wished you’d opted for the gutter barriers.

“Want me to show you how it’s done?” he said, already strutting up to the alley, ball in hand.

When he let it go, he had impeccable form. The muscles in his back rippled through his button down, and his fingers splayed out just right as the ball left them. It purred down the center of the alley and hit the first pin dead on, causing all the others to fall down.

“A strike?!” you said as he silently walked past you with mirth in his eyes. It was only the first round, but you knew you were going to lose.

****

“Bob, I’m so bored.”

“Only cause you’re not winning!” he accused, and sipped his soda with a smile. He’d been loving this, absolutely slaying your existence with his natural sporting ability. All those exercises he did every morning really did have an effect on him. You turned to him and looked him up and down in a joking way. He was getting this haughty air about him, and you were happy to be privy to this side of him.

“My turn again?” he asked, knowing full well it was his turn. He kissed you on the nose before heading down to strike out all the pins again. He pumped a fist high in the air when he finished the last shot with a strike, and a few little kids clapped from their spot on the side of the alley.

He strutted back to his seat, and put an arm around you. “And that’s the game,” he whispered in your ear. His hot breath tickled, and you giggled despite being a little upset that you lost.

“Why don’t we hit the arcade? Bowling is a stupid sport for sissies who can’t play real sports,” you ask him, kissing the side of his jaw. The bowling league in the lanes to the left eyed you with discontent. You didn’t mind their glares.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, and you led him by the hand to where all the games were.

“Bob! Whack-a-mole! Let’s fuck these little rodents up!” you told him, and he rolled his eyes. You both took a plastic mallet and set to hammering down on the moles’ plastic heads. You were frantic, bashing them as quickly as possible, but for some reason, Bob was an expert at this game. By the time the console ding-ed with an annoying “Time’s Up!” buzzer, you were short of breath and bent over.

“Holy shit,” you looked up at him in awe. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” Surely he’d whacked at least fifteen more moles than you had.

Bob tapped the side of your forehead with a soft, “Hellooooooo,” because he’s a drummer, and obviously he’s got enough rhythm and focus to beat you at whack-a-mole.

“You’re just tearing me up tonight, aren’t you,” you said. You were loving this new side of him.

****

The champagne bottle cracked open with a pop as the boys all crowded around in the room. Larry’d run off to grab glasses, and everyone was waiting, frothing at the mouth similarly to the bottle itself.

The business end of Catfish and the Bottlemen was already drunk; Van and Bondy were slurring and tripping over themselves. Benji was trying to catch up with a bottle of Tito’s, but Bob sat waiting for his own share of champagne.

“Why don’t ya join us?” Van asked Bob, fingers running over the designs in the duvet mindlessly before Bondy came over to Bob, running his hands through his curls and tangling them at his crown.

“I’d slap you, but I don’t want to get slut on my hand.”

“You sassy bitch!” Van shrieked, tugging Bondy out of the room and back into another.

“That was actually good, Bob,” Benji relayed with surprise. Larry re-entered the room with six glasses, but two of the patrons had already left.

“He’s really coming out of his shell, isn’t he,” you surmised, pouring some bubbly into your glass. “True colors type shit.” Bob giggled despite having minimal champagne.

“One day you’re all going to see how devious I can be,” Bob hiccupped into his glass.

Truly, a Gemini.

[typhonserpent]

Knots and Curls

Concentrating on your work can be pretty hard when you’re also babysitting. A tiny story about my Dalish OCs and an excuse to write slice-of-life fluff. Enjoy.

x - X - x

Ivnar pulled the rope until it was creaking and waited for Bug to duck under him. The older elf crept under the aravel with the end of the rope in one hand. Ivnar could feel the rough rope cutting against his hand. A bead of sweat fell into his eye. A finger poked his shoulder. He didn’t have to turn to see who it was. Only one person ever poked him from that height. “Yes, Hallama? This had better be important.” “I found something!” His palm burned. The rope was slid a few inches along, marked by the distinct sound of Bugs voice from under the aravel, “Fenedhis!” Heart leaping to his throat, Ivnar shuffled his grip on the rope and set one foot against the wood for balance. “Unless you found an abandoned Elven castle, I’m REALLY not interested right now!” He snapped. “Better!” She chimed, and Ivnar could hear the sound of her little feet skipping in the dirt. Bugs voice called out, muffled, from under the aravel, “Got it!” Ivnar released his breath along with the rope. It bounced against the wood and made a little twang when he tested it, but held strong nonetheless. He rested one arm against the side of the aravel and wiped the sweat out of his eye with his free hand. “Okay, Hallama, what’s better than a castle?” She grinned, little dimples dotted her cheeks. Her brown hair ringlets bounced when she skipped to stand in front of him. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand!” Ivnar sighed and obeyed, dropping to one knee so his hand would easily meet her height. She pressed something tiny and smooth into his palm. He cracked his eyes open. The little bobble was no bigger than his thumbnail. “It’s a snail shell.” He said. “It’s a fallen star!” “It’s a snail shell. It belongs to a dead snail.” That bright smile disappeared as easily as it came. She stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms. Bugs voice piped up from behind him, a gentle coo to counteract his own monotone. “Awww. It can be a fallen star if she wants it to be.” Ivnars hair tumbled behind his shoulders as he leaned back to meet Bugs eyes, above and behind him. “Except that’s not how logic or reasoning works.” Bug grinned, cheeks cracking along the spots where his fresh vallaslin was peeling. The creeping thorns on his face were thick and vivid, but ink stuck up in awkward places like peeling bark. “It’s a star and I found it for you.” Hallama huffed, stomping her foot, “Now you get a wish!” “A wish, huh?” He turned the shell over in his palm, “What if someone already wished on this one? I could be stealing someone else’s wish.” “Then they should have been faster to find it! And it’s gotta be a good wish.” He chuckled. “Alright, I wish for us to have the aravels loaded before sundown. Is that a good wish?” “No, ‘cause you were gonna do that anyway!” He rolled his eyes. “Not if bratty little da'lens keep interrupting us, we won’t.” He said poking her nose. She rubbed her nose and grumbled, “M’not bratty.” Shaking his head, he took her hand in his and pressed the shell back into her palm, “Here. Why don’t you hold onto it until I think of a better one?” He rose and found her at his belt. She tugged open the string of the little leather pouch he kept there and dropped the shell inside, giving it a little pat for good measure. “Can I help?” She asked, yellow eyes peering up at him through curly bangs. “No.” He snapped, “Not unless you can grow two feet in the next five minutes. Besides, I have Bug.” “Bug’s not s'possed to be in the sun! I heard Arwen say so.” Bug pulled his hood further over his forehead, letting it bathe him in what little shade it could provide. He winked at her, “Arwen is scouting. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Ivnar was grinding his teeth now. “Bug knows every knot that’s been invented and shoot a fox in the eye from 100 paces.” He growled, “What can you do? Collect more snail shells? Maybe you can chuck them at the shemlen to keep them off our tail.” She stomped, little fists clenched at her sides. “You’re mean!” Bug held his stomach, sides shaking with laughter. “She has you there. You can be a real prick.” Ivnar shot him a glare, but the way Bug wiped a tear from his eye seemed to indicate he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I can be more mean if you want, Felassan.” He countered. A tiny smirked tugged at the dimple of one cheek. Bug put his hand on his hips, tilting his head to one side, “See, teasing your little sister is one thing but calling me by that name is just rude.” Hallama covered her mouth with both palms and giggled. Bug gestured to her, adding, “She’s as bad as you are! Wait until you come of age, I’ll interrupt you while your face is sore just to make fun of your name.” “Ir abelas, Bug. You’re right.” He said, smirk still tugging at his lips. He turned his attention back to Hallama, “Do you remember how to tie a boat hitch?” She nodded and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Good. Follow me.”

[easynaturalhairstyle]

55 Dope Long Haircuts with Pony: Tips for Wearing Fringe Hairstyles

Are you thinking about leaping and wearing for a long time? Haircut with pony? If so, it makes sense. It’s a New Year and Pony is a new way to create a new me!

Everyone has a moment when they think “To pop or not to pop?” While holding scissors in their hands. For many, the moment passed without loss of length, for others they took the step and never looked back. Pony can completely change your face; it would be ridiculous not to consider them.

There are so many different types of pony and styles to wear. Maybe you are a classic side-sweep-bang type, but would like to take the plunge and fringe for a new long hairstyle. We have tips and suggestions for the coolest long haircuts with pony, so you can make the right decision.

Long hairstyles and haircuts with bangs: content

• Consider tips before cutting bangs in your long hair • How to choose the right bangs for your face shape • How to choose your bangs by hair type and texture • How to cut pony into long hair on your own • How to grow pony • 55 ideas of long haircuts with bangs to try out

Tips to consider before cutting bangs in your long hair

Pony is a big commitment. You need more care than the rest of your hair. Your pony can cause damage long before the rest of your hair. There is no “undo” button, though they can be camouflaged.

Pony, especially long hair cuts with bangs are a dramatic, drastic change. So, here are a few things to keep in mind before you grab the scissors or call your barber.

What kind of pony do you want?

There are many different types of pony. Not only are there different lengths, but also thickness and texture. If you see pony you like but are wondering if they work on you, look for similar face shapes to your and similar hair texture.

Want a big, heavy bang? Maybe Pixie Pony caught your attention. Dull pony is popular, and side-swept pony is also very popular. But what about your hair type?

Is your hair fine or thick? There are many long pony haircuts that will work for you; it’s just a matter of visualization before you make the cut. We’ll treat bangs by hair type and face shape in just a minute.

@glamiris

Are you nervous? You have two options!

Option 1: If you really want a sweet, perfect pony over your forehead, but are not ready to cut, work your way into it. Start with a side swept bang. Pony needs constant maintenance. So talk to your stylist and let your stylist change shape gradually.

Option 2: Run a test run. There is faux pony that you can buy this clip in the front of your hair that you can try. There are also some who come on a headband, but my favorite for those who want to try bangs with long hair is the high ponytail or a bun with pony.

Here’s how to take off faux pony:

1. Smooth your hair into a high ponytail and fasten it firmly with a hair tie.

2. Take a strand of hair from the top of your ponytail and twist it forward to create your faux pony.

3. Adjust the length of the pony the way you want it and use bobby pins to attach it (if you have fine hair, use a bit of dry shampoo to create texture.).

4. For the most natural look, poke it close enough to the ponytail that it can be hidden when you wrap the ponytail or create the bun.

5. Lightly curl your pony and fan it a little bit. Put a curl on the end of your ponytail if you intend to wear it. If you want to wear a bun with faux pony, fan out your ponytail, then wrap and poke loosely to cover the bobby pins from step 4.

6. Accessorize! The easy choice is a headband, but a bow flower or if you feel daring, a fascinator is a great way to accessorize.

Train your pony

Do you normally share your hair? Which direction? Your pony comes from the front of your head, so follow the direction you usually wear hair.

If you split in the middle or move to the side, your hair will continue to do so. You need to train yourself and your hair to lay it the way you need it.

On the positive side, the look is much more different and causes even greater excitement on the big revelation. Get used to pulling your hair forward instead of brushing it aside if you do not want your pony swept aside.

Keep your pony fresh

The key to beautiful long pony hairstyles is to keep your fringe fresh. Do not be afraid of a regular maintenance trim, especially if you love the length you are.

The hair grows on average a half inch per month, and it never gets more apparent than with your pony. Even if you plan to grow your pony, cleaning, which is a miniscule maintenance cut, will make your pony look good by keeping split ends and damage in check.

Get a good flat iron!

Your iron can produce better long hairstyles with bangs than a round brush and hair dryer. The flat iron smoothes and creates less frizz, and can be bought in mini sizes for even the most pixie-style pony. If you are looking for an iron, look for one with good heating options and ceramic tiles.

Lean in accessorizing

Headbands are cute for long hairstyles with bangs, but the best headbands are the silky and satin ones. They usually come in great colors and patterns and better hold the moisture your pony needs. They work twice – they are cute in the daytime and a necessity at night.

@garrettkenroach

Tips:

• Use your (silk or satin) headband to ensure that your pony lies flat when you go to bed. A cowlick in your pony does not look like that.

• People who have a cowlick usually benefit from heavier pony too.

• Pay special attention to your T-Zone if you have pony. It is important for the health of your pony and the health of your skin!

• Guide your hair in the desired direction with a mini-iron.

• Get used to using dry shampoo – it will be a quick relief if your pony tends to become greasy and misbehave.

How to choose the right pony for your face shape

Choosing the right long haircut with bangs for you can be easy – just use your face shape and your hair type to determine which bangs are best for you. So what does the best options for your face shape offer? First identify your face shape.

Look in a mirror and think about your features. Take a marker if you need and trace the shape of your face, then look below and choose the best bang styles for your face.

Remember, bangs can be used to create an optical illusion on the shape of your face, and they can highlight your bone structure.

Best pony for oval face shapes (Paula Patton)

Oval faces are the best faces for pony. You can wear almost any style. Soft, feather-dull bangs can create a rounded and even face. This is one of the best face shapes for baby and pixie pony.

Best pony for square and long face shapes (Rihanna)

Long, multi-layered pony effects soften and balance the facial features. A-shaped bangs have a wider spread over the bottom edge to balance the face. Pony, who hits his eyebrows directly, is also very flattering.

@hairby_chrissy

Best Pony for Heart Face Shapes (Reese Witherspoon)

If you want to try a Micro Mini Fringe, you can! Crescent-shaped bangs, extra long, wispy layered, are a fantastic long haircut with bangs that also grows very well.

Best Pony for Round Face Shapes (Taylor Swift)

If you want to try a blunt bang, go for a mini fringe. The space between the end of the fringe and the eyebrows makes the face look longer.

Side bangs produce length on the face by using angles, making them ideal for round faces.

Remarks:

1. If you have a combination of face shapes, use the look that suits your prevailing characteristics.

2. All face shapes look good with side-swept pony, but the key to make it best for your face is the length.

3. All face shapes can also handle a rolled pop in pin-up style. If you want to experiment with punching, give it a shot.

How to choose your bangs by hair type and texture

Not only should you consider your face shape when choosing the right bangs for you, but also your hair texture and hair type.

Best pony for thin or fine hair

Those with thinner or finer hair look best with bangs that are soft, feathery and have a kissing length or longer.

Do not share your hair in the middle as each side looks thinner. Keeping your pony grouped will give you a fuller look. A solid, heavy pony will also take more body and fullness away from the rest of your hair.

Best pony for thick hair

People with thicker hair can carry the dull, heavy bang. Use a smoothing balm and adequate length to keep your pony from looking swollen.

• Have your stylist cut your pony with a razor because you have more styling options and less weight.

• Try gently layered, long, side-swept bangs that can be easily assembled into layers.

• Find a good smoothing serum or balm so your pony will not be taken over by the frizz.

• Do not cut heavy pony too short. If you want short pixie or lilith pony, make it less heavy or else they will look swollen.

@amaniashawn

Best Pangs for natural curly hair

• Cut your pony dry or largely dry – do not soak or dripping wet! If you cut them wet, they look very different when they dry because of shrinkage.

• Consider the weight, do not cut your pony straight across. Try a small bang that pays attention to your ringlets and how they fall together. Ringlets are hair curls grouped together.

• Make sure your stylist knows how to work with hair, which is your type of curly hair.

• Mix your pony with a curl refresher between shampoos. If you are natural, try a leave-in conditioner injection.

• Do not be afraid to try a shorter pony, if you decide to straighten your hair, you still have a whole new look.

• Do not straighten your hair in extreme heat or damage your pony.

Best pony for wavy hair

Wavy hair can look effortlessly chic with a soft, soft pop. Feathery ends look good on thin hair, which also allows effortless movements.

Best bangs for straight hair

Women with straight hair can wear almost any type of fringe. Arched pony and mini pony, soft fringes and long fringes work well.

It is important to keep bangs in straight hair to fall flat.

How to cut pony into long hair on your own

You can cut your own pony in long hair if you want. You must be careful, be careful and do not flinch, but you can do that! You need:

• A ratchet comb • A ponytail • A sharp pair of scissors • A mirror • A set of hair clips

Step 1: Preparation

Start with clean, dry hair and use the comb to divide a triangular shape from the front for your pony.

Find the starting point by tracing the tip of the triangle through your hair about two to two inches behind the middle of your forehead. From there, separate your hair on each side in a downward, diagonal line. Pull the hair together to make sure the triangle is balanced, and you’ll be familiar with the amount of hair that will be in your pony.

Comb the hair you want into your pony, trim it and comb the rest of your long hair and place it in a ponytail.

The best and most accurate way to cut your pony at home is to do it on dry hair. If you have a cowlick, first use a flat iron to lay your hair the way you want it. If you insist on cutting your hair, sprinkle it with water to dampen it slightly, but do not put more water in it.

Determine the desired bang and continue with the appropriate steps.

@ hair.bye.alex

Step 2: Cut your Crescent, Straight or Blunt Bangs

• Measure your pony to the desired length.

• To the dull pony Lay a piece of tape in a straight line over your pony. Take your scissors and cut under the ribbon.

Do not try to cut everything in one cut. Remove the tape and check your results. Your pony should end in a sharp, straight bangs in the desired length.

• To the Crescent pops take the middle part of your pony and turn it around once. Hang the ends in the length you want to use to frame your face.

Cut the center piece that you turned together to the desired length. This creates a small arch that is higher in the middle.

Release the middle area and clean the edge. If you want the ends to go into the edges, cut at an angle accordingly. If you want dramatic lengths at the ends, feather the middle part first with small scissors.

Clean the framing edges according to the style you want.

• To the straight pony Hold your pony and cut a straight line into small quarter-inch scissors. If you want, use the tape trick. Feather the ends just a bit for a more natural look.

• To the curly and wavy pony Dry hair will immediately give you a more accurate look, but you can dampen your hair if you have to. Work your curly hair into separate, larger sections by twisting them around your fingers.

Cut your fringe to the correct length in each strand of hair as evenly as possible to match. Feather and must bang your fingers for a fuller look.

Or Else Cut Side Swept Bangs

Step 1 : Part your hair diagonally, on the opposite side where your bang will fall. Next, create a rectangle with the hair you want to use as a bang (or a trapezoid technically).

step 2 : Comb all the hair you want to use in your pony and keep the part intact. Pull the rest of your hair back into a ponytail.

step 3 : Hold your pony and spin it, holding the twisted section with the fingers of your non-dominant hand. Use your dominant hand to comb the ends first.

Step 4 : Use your scissors to slowly make small cuts over your pony. Remember that your hair is twisted once, so cut the angle into something that looks like the other side, but not.

Step 5 : Comb your pony down again and then split it evenly in the middle. Cut upwards (to create a body and a clean edge) and create the angle you need for your sideways swept bang.

Step 6 : Repeat the process on the remaining page, maintaining the angle you started creating.

Step 7 : Style your pony!

@amaniashawn

Note : Do not stretch your hair when you cut it, keep the length tight, but light. If you stretch your hair, your cut will be inaccurate. After you’ve cut your pony, style it.

How to grow pony

Of course, pony will grow by itself because your hair grows on average half a inch per month. There is an art form to grow your pony. Witty (and serious) talk, grow your pony is all about the art of disguise.

Consider a headband braid to hide your bang in it and keep it out of your face. There are a ton of braids that work nicely to hide your pony, so test out a few options. To integrate your pony into a set of French or Dutch braids looks fantastic, pulls your pony out of your face and hides it well.

Try a slick-back style, swing a headband or hair clip to pull back your pony and wear your long hair or do a nice “tuck and roll” to pull back your pony.

Keep your pony healthy! Try a few different, deep parts to integrate some of your longer hair with your pony and better manipulate it. Try to divide your hair differently and see how you can best hide the intervening, possibly uncomfortable length.

@garrettkenroach

A side piece is great for dressing up your odd-length pony. Cut or dust regularly so you do not lose any lengths.

Keep your hair moisturized to prevent breakage and be as patient as possible by growing your pony.

Last, do not leave your accessories. Yes, scarves and headbands are an obvious choice, but the exposed Bobby Pin Hair Trend is a gift for anyone trying to outgrow their pony.

55 ideas of long haircuts with pony to try out

If you have decided to try long hair with bangs, we have many suggestions for you. Everything from color to form, style and texture, we have an option for everyone.

1. Long pink hair with bangs

Long hair with bangs is more fun in a soft color. Sweet shades of pink and long bangs with a touch of shape to them keep the look soft. Long hair with a soft color and fringe fringe looks well smooth or disheveled.

@ Chromefelix

2. Ombre long hair with dark bangs

With Ombre hair, people can be concerned about the continuity of color in long hair with bangs. When the color starts far enough along the hair length, the roots make the pony. One of the sweetest long hairstyles with bangs, these black bangs and lavender ombre hair look pretty, and the loose fringes accentuate her cheekbones perfectly.

@nyane

3. Dark long waves with fringes

Long waves and strong fringes make the perfect combination. Highlights do not keep the length too heavy. The pony offers a softening face shape, even in the darkest hair.

@ gina.devine

4. Sun-Kissed Sandy Brown Long hair with bangs

Brown hair with hints of sand-colored highlights looks good when it’s long. Only a touch of sandy blonde kissed by the ends of the pony makes the hair look good, even if it grows in length. Long hair cuts with bangs that reach the bridge of the nose can only be easily brushed out of the way.

@stylesbysacia

5. Beachy Blonde Long Hair with Pony

Beachy Looking waves on blonde hair with a light, long fringe create a comfortable and relaxed look. Her itching cheekbone is designed to be pulled out of sight. This is one of the low maintenance long haircuts with bangs for you to try, try!

@matildadjerf

6. Shaggy and comfortable bangs on long hair

Lengths that grow and look effortless start with an excellent cut. The pony has a face-framing variance in length that will grow out without ever being weird or weird. This is the epitome of a “effortlessly chic” long hairstyle with bangs.

@salsalhaar

7. Smoked Balayage hairstyle with bangs

Balayage highlights Work well on long hair cuts with bangs. The smoky silver and brown base looks beautiful and will grow out gently. The light, slightly curved pony will also grow well.

@venalove

8. Heavy bent pony on long hair

Strong pony on long haircuts can really shorten your face, so they’re a great choice for anyone hoping to round out their face. The bended ends of the pony are nice face frames, but the length could be a problem without a slight curl in the end.

@ Haarbynoora

9. Dark gray fringe hairstyle

Silver and gray hair are very trendy, and this long hairstyle is a great example of that. If long hair cuts go with pony, this shows a curved fringe, which is usually straight with only the shortest length at the end. The long gray strands of hair are lighter towards the end and look lovely with a little texture.

@bescen

10. Growing lengths

If you grow your pony and worry about a sweet everyday life, then look at this long hairstyle! Pony is brushed on both sides, but still manages to frame the face. This long haircut with pony is effortless and cute, and the layers will continue to grow beautifully.

@sirushoofficial

11. Dark lengths, sparse fringe

All long pony hairstyles do not need big, heavy fringes to look smart. Lightweight, fluttery pony can be anything you need to complete a straight long hairstyle without it looking too heavy.

@simplysona

12. Shattered Texture and Long Pony

A broken texture that is buffed on longer hair is accentuated by a lighter color that is distributed throughout the style. The edge is longer at the ends, raises the eyes and completes the face.

@venalove

13. Magenta and Purple Layered long hair with bangs

Clever colors can also be rendered through pony. A shorter pony with long, loose waves shows a nice color application.

@venalove

14. Light bangs on long hair

Good light fringe moves easily and tickles directly over the bridge of the nose. This type of bang is ideal for long haircuts because they are easy to hide or integrate into other styles.

@Fatherkels

15. Bleached and thrown fringe hairstyle

A straight bang with the least turn at the ends is just another way to style bangs of a certain length. If you wear your pony in several ways, it will be easier to enjoy.

@ ryabchik.moscow

16. Lightweight Crescent Fringe

With just the right amount of fullness, these bangs sit for a bit of volume and float over the forehead. These can be worn as they are or with the lightest bulge of a curling iron or flat iron.

@ Kristinabazan

17. Long hair with short blond bangs

Bangs of this length require regular trims to maintain this look. They fall perfectly, just float over the eyebrows and look fantastic with the long hair.

@emmachenartistik

18. Side swept angled bangs

One of the most flattering long bangs with pony that anyone can wear is this style with a side pop. It is slightly angled and due to the length of the pony can be worn multiple times.

@ Kelanforeal

19. Custom color fringe hairstyle

Gentle rose-colored hair and a thin, sparse bang only enhance the romance of this color and cut. The soft waves blend perfectly with the longer pony.

@bescen

20. Long hair, long pony

Amber and blonde ombre hair are stunning, and long hair can carry a lot of weight. The shiny long hair and pony are a great and classic style that easily merges into layers and can be worn down and hidden with the pony.

@chelseahaircutters

21. Textured and blended fringe hairstyle

Bangs tend to be straighter than the rest of your hairdo, but here it works in its own way. The structured roughness of the fringe looks natural and interesting, without being serious.

@keunenamerica

22. Barely There Pony on long hair

The difference that these pony make is loose and easy. No seriousness here! The slight bang is perfect in the length of the eyebrows, which gives the long hairstyle a little lightness.

@jaimmeleecreative

23. Choppy Micro Fringe

Microfrans, or baby balls, as they are called, require a bit of courage. They are much shorter than they look, but their potential to really make your face stand out is nothing short of great. The chaff of this baby pony creates a perfect angle for the part of her hair; They just disappear in the lengths at the edges of their face.

@thehairstandard

24. Blunt, Brushed Rose Pony

Stronger, dull-cut pony skins that cross the forehead above the eyebrows may have slightly stronger hair colors in the dark. In this medium to light color transition, the pony looks less edgy and flatters her skin tone perfectly.

@guy_tang

25. Spiky Pangs framed with long curly hair

The length over the eyebrows will not overwhelm a barrel-curled style. With just a little shuffling with your fingertips, the pony is refreshed and moves with the long curls.

@Spicymelonen

26. Long, feathery, curved pony

Kissing nose bridge Fringe is coquettish and adorable, whether her long hair is up or down. This is the edge that has movement and chic in every style and can easily be hidden and changed.

@jesslipczynski

27. Long framing, middle parted bangs on long hair

A long haircut with a long side pony has a lot of movement and seems to want to lie perfectly. This is a perfect long hairstyle with bangs for shaping the eyes without completely covering the brow with a pony.

@jaimmeleecreative

28. Textured brown fringe

The most natural and deceptively effortless looking fringes are these slightly chopped-off bangs on long hair. The soft color and the chopped, detailed fringes tickle the eyebrows perfectly and have a lot of movement in a structured long hairstyle with bangs.

@maryxwhite

29. Blonde bump bangs

Smooth, shiny pony on long hair curve and catch the light from multiple angles. The interpolation of shades of blond hair makes her mane glow and framed her face in soft golden light.

@hair_by_tb

30. Wispy bangs on long stratified hair

A layered, long haircut with bangs that is lightweight and lightweight, is a good look. It is a casual style that is not difficult to care for and works well on fine hair.

@off7thsalon

31. Electric Ombre Pony

This is definitely a color treatment that requires attention, and the colored bangs on long hair need extra maintenance. Der Aufwand ist es absolut wert, denn der stumpfe Pony hat genau die richtige Menge an Gewicht für eine tolle Form und um den Farbwechsel zu zeigen. Die halbe Hochsteckfrisur ist eine süße Art, deinen langen Haarschnitt täglich mit Pony zu stylen!

@glamiris

32. Lavendel getippt Pony auf lange Haare

Dieser lange Haarschnitt mit Pony zeigt, dass frisch getrimmter Pony weiter “genau richtig” fällt. Ursprünglich hatte sie blonde Enden und Highlights, aber die Stylistin schnitt ihren Pony und überzog ihr Haar mit Lavendel, um sicher zu gehen, dass sich darin Lavendel zeigte der Pony auch.

@hairbyelm

33. Meerjungfrau langes Haar mit Layered Pony

Mitternachtsblaues Meerjungfrauenhaar und lange Seitenpony, die schön dazu beitragen, zu den vielseitigsten langen Haarschnitten mit Pony zu führen. Ihr Pony ist lang genug, um in einen Pferdeschwanz eingearbeitet oder auf der einen Seite statt auf der anderen getragen zu werden.

@glamiris

34. Strukturiertes rosa Haar mit Pony

Gepatzt und zottig, das ist ein toller Knall für einen sorgenfreien Look. Da alle Ponyarbeiten gewartet werden müssen, sind lange, geschichtete Texturen am besten und am einfachsten zu handhaben sowie schmeichelhaft.

@ ryabchik.moscow

35. Leichter Pony auf langem Haar

Langes Haar mit einem stumpfen Knall schmeichelt längeren Gesichtern. Die Zugabe der eisigen platinblonden Haarfarbe bringt den Glanz für ein insgesamt erstaunliches Aussehen.

@stephanysmith

36. Langer, gerader, stumpfer Pony am langen Haar

Ein langer Haarschnitt mit stumpfen Pony ist aus gutem Grund ein Grundnahrungsmittel – es sieht toll aus. Das Aussehen ist einfach, aber der Unterhalt ist nicht! Heißölbehandlungen und ein gutes Flacheisen sind der Schlüssel, um diese lange Frisur mit Pony zu erhalten.

@ ryabchik.moscow

37. Langes Haar mit abgewinkeltem Pony

Side-fegt Pony sorgt für ein gutes Aussehen für alle Gesichtsformen, vor allem, wenn Sie Ihren Pony wachsen. Den Pony für eine lange Frisur so schräg zu schneiden, ist auch ein guter Blick.

@mdjhair

38. Kurze Blunt Bangs auf lange Haare

Blunt Pangs geben eine sehr klare Aussage ab. Im Wesentlichen sind das die “kann mich nicht verpassen” Art von Pony, die ein langes, ovales Gesicht abrunden.

@thehairstandard

39. Herauswachsen, Center Split Fringe

Wenn Pony wächst, ist es eine gute Möglichkeit, sie weiter zu tragen, ohne sie verstecken zu müssen. Das Bürsten auf beiden Seiten hält sanft den Pony und das Aussehen, aber in einer tragbaren und bequemen Art und Weise.

@Shelleygregorehair

40. Reicher Burgunder Lob mit Pony

Ein Lob (langer Bob) enthält nicht immer einen Knall, aber wenn es das tut – WOW! Der schwere Halbmondknall verleiht dem langen Haarschnitt eine weitere Dimension.

@off7thsalon

41. Balayaged Blondes Haar mit Pony

Ein kürzerer Halbmond-Knall, umrahmt von langen blonden Balay-Layern, macht Spaß und ist warm. Die Weichheit ist ideal auch mit dem schwereren halbmondförmigen Knall, der auf halbem Weg auf der Stirn endet, um ihr Gesicht ideal zu umrahmen.

@bixiecolour

42. Dunkler schwerer Pony auf langem Haar

Die gründlichen Babylichter in ihren langen Haaren sehen gut aus gegen die Schwere des dunklen Knalls. Dunkle, lange Haare mit Pony können auf verschiedene Arten hergestellt werden, einschließlich der unglaublichen Textur, die hier zu sehen ist.

@ valarie.ann_

43. Augenkuss Fringe Frisur

Leichtes, sich bewegendes Haar von der Wurzel bis zur Spitze ist ein einfacher Stil, aber der helle vordere Rand macht einen Blickfang. Die Fransen sind dünn genug, um nicht schwer und dick genug für die ideale Gesichtsform Illusion zu sein.

@ yana_si

44. Regenbogen Pony auf lange Haare!

Rainbow Haarfarbe nimmt eine geübte Hand, um perfekt abzuziehen und zu mischen, besonders im Pony. Ihr Pony beginnt hell und endet hell, sieht von oben bis unten fantastisch aus, ohne die Farben in den längsten Teilen ihres Haares zu überwältigen.

@ Chitabeseau

45. Helle Farben und leichter Pony

Cooler dünner Pony lässt sich leicht zur Seite schieben oder nach vorne bringen. Sie helfen, das Gesicht ideal zu formen und schaffen eine lockere Langhaarfrisur mit Pony.

@ Chitabeseau

46. ​​Rasiermesser-Schnitt Micro Fringe

Microfransen und ein Rasiermesserschnitt sind im Himmel ein Spiel. Wenn Ihr Stylist mit einem Rasiermesser für Ihren langen Haarschnitt zu Ihnen kommt, vertrauen Sie ihm! Es sieht am Ende erstaunlich aus, natürlich und mit viel weniger Volumen.

@thehairstandard

47. Split Bangs auf lange Haare

Sanft gewellter Pony, gespalten in der Mitte, sieht von beiden Seiten gut aus und umrahmt perfekt das Gesicht. Dies ist ein toller langer Haarschnitt mit Pony für einen Pflegetrim, während auch der Anbau knallt.

@colorbyashley

48. Langes Haar mit Shaggy Pony

Längeres Haar mit Shaggy Pony ist ein zuverlässiger, schicker Look. Die Franse wird von längeren Stücken umrahmt, die wie Schichten in den Rest ihres Haares wirken und dem Look ein bisschen Vielseitigkeit verleihen.

@belenhostalet

49. Pflaume und Blaubeere Texturiertes langes Haar mit Pony

Eine der besten Möglichkeiten, komplizierte Farbaufträge zu zeigen, ist eine lange Frisur mit Pony. Die reiche Pflaume mit den Andeutungen von Heidelbeeren hallt überall in ihrem Haar wider, von ihren leichten Fransen bis hin zu den mit dem Fass gekräuselten Längen.

@monicadelarosa

50. Lange und fließende Frisur mit Fransen

Lange Pony, die leicht aus Ihrem Gesicht zu streichen sind ein Wunsch für viele, und wenn sie wachsen, bekommen Sie, was Sie wollen! Hier hat sich ihr Halbmond Pony leicht in Form gehalten und kann mittig gespalten und an den Seiten gebürstet werden.

@cemgumush

51. Kurze gehackte Kupfer Pony auf lange Haare

Langes Kupferhaar und kurze farblich abgestimmte Pony sind eine glatte und coole Optik, die perfekt für ein Mädchen mit Brille ist. Viele Fransenstile können Schatten oder Brille stören und gleichzeitig Haare und Brille durcheinander bringen oder sich in den Schläfen verfangen!

@cemgumush

52. Langes Haar mit seitlich geangeltem Pony

Die Wangenknochen-Länge dieses seitlich gefegten Pony ist sehr schmeichelhaft. Es gibt viele verschiedene Möglichkeiten, wie Seitenflossen Pony getragen werden kann und immer noch gut aussehen und wie sie wachsen wird es weiterhin beeindrucken.

@littleblacksalon

53. Baby Pony und langes Haar

Babybangs sind für die Mutigen, da sie viel Pflege erfordern, aber ein süßes und interessantes Aussehen sind. Die Gesichtsrahmenqualität eines Knalls ist immer noch da, ohne dass so viel von deinem Gesicht versteckt ist.

@mdjhair

54. Gesamte entfettete Fransenfrisur

Ein neuer Pony auf langen, dicken Haaren sieht am besten aus, wenn die Masse herausgenommen wird, wie hier. Ihr Pony ist kantig und strukturiert und wunderschön. Eine extra dicke Haarstruktur kann Pony weniger schmeichelhaft aussehen lassen, wenn die Masse nicht herausgenommen wird.

@ponysalon

55. Stumpfe Fransen und helle Farben

Eine interessante lange Frisur beinhaltet oft eine interessante Farbe und der Schlüssel ist, niemals den Pony wegzulassen. Der glatte stumpfe Pony zeigt wirklich den Unterschied in der kundenspezifischen Farbe.

@leysahairandmakeup

Photos via Instagram

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