#could you imagine if he was actually able to get it all set up for them to watch the rocket launch and everyone saw it explode lol

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: The sudden shift in living arrangements causes Charlie's behavior to take a turn for the worse. 

Word Count: 8,317

Warnings: Smut, suicidal thoughts, kids throwing temper tantrums, infertility, and polyamory.

Notes: Clarification for those just tuning in, Lucy is not Charlie's biological mother (she is unable to have biological children) but Tommy--and Grace, prior to her death--have always treated her as if she was. This chapter was a reasonable length, and then I decided that I needed to add a whole bunch of smut at the end, and I didn't wanna move it to the next chapter. So apologies in advance for the bloated word count!

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Chapter 3: Your Mistakes Loom

“Charlie, could you pick up your toys, please?” 

She said it offhandedly, not even really looking up from the cover of the book she was examining, one hand gripping the wooden ladder she was balancing on so that she could reach the upper shelves of the huge bookcase. 

Arrow House was packed to the gills with books on just about any subject imaginable. Lucy had gorged her mind on many of them. Climbing carefully down the rickety ladder, she tucked her most recent selection under her arm, looking up to find that Charlie hadn’t moved from where he was seated on the sofa, his toys still spread out all over the floor.

“Charlie? Did you not hear me?”

Still no response. Lucy frowned. Things had been tense lately. Charlie was still angry with Tommy over him shooting Dangerous, barely speaking to him at all and spending most of his free time sulking in his room. And then Lizzie’s announcement to Tommy of her and Ruby's departure went over about as well as Lucy had expected it to. There was an awful lot of shouting and insults hurled from either side, and when Lizzie finally left with little Ruby in tow, it was with a slam of the front door that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire house. 

Charlie had grown even more sullen after that. Lucy wasn’t sure how much of the fight he’d actually heard, or what Lizzie had told him before she left. But he clearly was angry with both of them. And missing his step-mum and sister. She tried to find ways to occupy his time or offer him companionship, but her attempts to get him to go out riding or play a game with her had all been met with a glower and cold shoulder, and she’d eventually given up and decided to just leave him alone.    

“Please don’t make me repeat myself, Charlie. Pick up your toys now before someone trips over them, yeah?”

It would only take him all of two minutes to do it. And yet he continued to just sit there, shooting a scowl her way, crossing his arms, and huffing under his breath.

“Charlie–”

“Shut up!” he suddenly shouted, little voice bouncing off the high walls of the room. Jumping off the couch, he stood in the middle of his pile of toys, face turning red. “You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mum!”

She flinched back as if he’d hit her, eyes widening. “Charlie–”

“You’re just Dad’s whore! Everybody hates you! Mum says!”

Her jaw dropped open, recoiling even further from him. The boy she’d always thought of as her own stared at her with blazing eyes that were a perfect combination of Tommy and Grace’s, his mouth set in a firm line, little hands balled up into fists at his sides. 

He might as well have reached in between her ribs, and ripped out her heart. 

Lucy’s jaw worked, but no words came out; too shocked to be able to speak. Tears welled in her eyes, lips trembling as she tried to battle them back. 

“Charles Thomas Burgess Shelby!” 

The voice boomed throughout the room, roaring so loud it practically shook the stacks of books erected from the floors and lining the walls. It took Lucy so by surprise that she almost screamed.

And then Tommy was there. Tommy, who unbeknownst to both of them had been standing in the doorway. Tommy, who had heard everyone hurtful word his son had just hurled at her. 

He descended upon Charlie, taking him by the shoulders, looking down at him furiously. Charlie’s eyes had grown big as saucers, shrinking in on himself when faced with his father’s wrath. 

“You do not speak to Lucy like that. Ever. Do you hear me!? Ey?” He leaned in closer when Charlie tried to dodge his gaze. “Do you hear me!?”

“No, Tommy, don’t–” she tried, somehow managing to get the words out around the lump clogging her throat. Shouting at him will only make everything worse.

“No, Lucy! He does not get to say something like that to you without consequences.” He turned back to Charlie. “Apologize, Charlie. Now.”

“No! I want my mum! Why did you let her leave!? Why couldn’t Lucy go away instead!?”

She cringed, drawing deeper into herself, arms clutching in tight to her chest as if they could somehow shield herself from the words Charlie was erupting with. Tommy gaped at him, and she could see shock and horror at his son’s behavior leaking past the anger and protectiveness glimmering in his eyes.  

“Charlie, you don’t understand–” he tried. She could tell that he was working hard to not fully lose control of his temper. To remain calm and rational in the face of Charlie’s outburst. To not explode as he would in response to anyone else who dared speak to her like that. But Charlie wasn’t having any of it. 

“Yes, I do understand!” he stomped his little foot. Under any other circumstances it might’ve been funny. “You shot my horse! You shot my horse and you made my mum and Ruby leave! I hate you too!”

Tommy stared at him for a long moment. Lucy could see the tension standing out in the veins pulsing in his throat. “Go to your room,” he said finally, voice deadly calm. 

“No!” Charlie shouted, tears starting to stream down his cheeks now that he’d gotten all of his anger out. “No! I don’t want to!”

“Go to your room now!” Tommy bellowed, finger pointing towards the door, face contorting. 

Charlie let out a wailing, furious scream, head thrown back to the ceiling, and then raced out the door sobbing, little feet thundering up the stairs. A moment later, they heard the crash of his bedroom door slamming shut.    

Lucy let out a haggard, painful breath, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her chest heaved and her shoulders shuddered, face dropping to bury in her hands. 

“Lucy,” Tommy’s hand touched delicately at her arm just as the first sob managed to make its way past her lips. “Come here, love.” He drew her into his arms, hugging her to his chest and rubbing her back comfortingly while she started to cry. 

Her mind was completely trapped within that one singular moment, replaying it over and over, of her baby boy telling her how much everyone–himself included–despised her.  

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy said. “I don’t know why he would–”

“Why do you think!?” she burst out distraughtly, ripping away from his embrace. “His mother hates me. Who knows what she’s said about me when we aren’t around.” It was only then that she realized she was still holding the book she’d gotten down from the shelf. She set it heavily on one of the end tables by the couch. 

“Lizzie isn’t his mother…”

“Yes, she is, Tommy. She’s the one who’s always here. Who always takes care of him.” Sniffling, she scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“That doesn’t mean–”

“It does to him. And isn’t that all that matters, in the end?”

Trouble, the tortoiseshell cat who had been living at Arrow House since Lucy adopted her after the vendetta, hopped up onto the couch, stretching and meowing at Lucy worriedly. She reached down a hand to stroke her soft black and orange head.

“I’ll talk to him.” Tommy was watching her with worried eyes. Lucy shook her head. 

“Scolding him about it will only make things worse.”

“I won’t scold him. But he can’t talk to you like that.” He took a step towards her, hand resting on her shoulder, thumb rubbing up and down. 

“I promised myself that I would never come between you and your children.”

“You’re not.”

She wasn’t really sure if she believed that. Trouble climbed up onto the armrest of the couch, angling her head in silent request for scratches under her neck that Lucy provided. Purrs rumbled in the small cat’s throat. 

“Lucy,” Tommy moved in a little closer to her. “Don’t…don’t take any of what he said to heart. He’s a kid. He’s just having a tantrum. He doesn’t really mean any of it.”

“Are you sure?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you meant everything that you shouted at your mum and dad as a kid?”

She couldn’t really argue with that. Tommy kissed the top of her head. 

“He loves you.”

She nodded, swallowing roughly. Trouble meowed, and she scooped the cat up, holding her like a baby. She purred, snuggling into Lucy’s chest. Tommy lowered a hand to the cat, letting her sniff at his fingertips, waiting for her approval in the form of bumping her head against his palm before he started to pet her.

“He called me a whore,” Lucy whispered. The hand Tommy still had resting on her shoulder tightened. 

“I heard.”

“Do you think Lizzie told him that?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think that she just said it to someone else and he overhead. But…” he trailed off, then sighed. “She’s never done anything to actively try to turn the kids on you before. Not like that.” 

She nodded. That was what she suspected, too. Lizzie wasn’t that cruel. 

“Either way, she’s apparently forgotten what her previous profession was.” She could hear the edge of building frustration in his voice, and leaned back into him in an attempt to try to quell it. He slipped an arm around her waist, pressing his lips to her temple. 

“You really think that he didn’t mean any of it?” The buddings of insecurity had sprung back up inside her at Charlie’s words, doubt flooding her veins. She often worried that her presence at the house might have a negative effect on the children. A thought that made her feel so awful and guilty that she was half tempted to pack a bag and run far, far away. Or better yet, take a revolver to her head. 

Sometimes she wondered if everyone would be better off if she wasn’t around anymore. 

“He has no reason to.”

“He thinks I’m the reason that his mother is unhappy.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“But all that stuff about me leaving instead of Lizzie…”

“He doesn’t understand what’s going on between me and her. Not really. All he knows is that you and I both had arguments with her, and then she and Ruby left and he misses them. That’s why he’s lashing out. He doesn’t actually want you gone. I don’t believe that.”

She closed her eyes, trying to will herself into believing him instead of the cruel voices in her head. “He’s got your temper.”

She felt Tommy’s lips curl up fondly against her hair. “Yeah. We’re fucked once he hits adolescence, aren’t we?”

“Mhm.”

Sighing, he pulled out his pocket watch to take a glance at it. “What do you think? Has it been long enough for him to have calmed down yet?”

“Maybe give it a few more minutes.” 

He nodded, dropping his head to rest against the crook of her neck, laying butterfly soft kisses there. “You’ll see. By tomorrow he’ll have forgotten that the entire bloody thing even fucking happened.”

She huffed out a breathless laugh. “We can only hope so.” 

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who shot the horse. That’s what he’s really upset about.”

“No; you did the right thing. Dangerous was in pain; it would have been wrong to make him continue on like that.” 

“Yeah. He’ll understand. Someday.”

“Yeah. Someday.” She was deeply aware that they weren’t just talking about the horse.   

Would Charlie ever fully understand? She often had her doubts. Her and Tommy’s arrangement was unconventional, to say the least. Not even some of the Shelbys had ever fully been able to understand or accept it. 

Her eyes raised to sweep around the dim room, landing on a few framed photographs set up on a nearby table. In one of them, Grace was sitting with baby Charlie in her lap. Her head was turned away from the camera, looking instead upon the precious little boy clutched in her arms, cheek dimpling with a smile. Charlie’s eyes danced with joy, lips parted in the smile he was giving to his mother. 

Everyone would have been happier if I was the one who got shot that day at the charity dinner, Lucy thought, sniffling. Charlie would still have his mother. Tommy would still have his wife. They would be happy. 

Her boys; who she loved more than anything in the whole world. All she wanted was for them to be okay. To be happy.   

Trouble meowed at her, head angled up, watching her with those knowing green eyes. Lucy tightened her grip on the cat, holding her tighter to her chest. Tommy’s warm breath ghosted across her neck and shoulder where he was still resting his face against her. Leaning back into him, she closed her eyes against the warm press of her back to his front. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Tommy stood in front of Charlie’s door, the dark wood seeming to loom over him forebodingly. He smoothed his hands down his waistcoat. Adjusted his cufflinks. Fiddled with his wedding ring. Well aware that he was stalling. 

He needed to remember to keep his cool, no matter what waited for him on the other side of that door. It was his knee-jerk response to act protectively whenever someone upset Lucy. But yelling or scolding like he did with Polly or Lizzie was unlikely to accomplish much in this situation other than make Charlie more furious with him. 

And, he really didn’t want to yell at his son.

Sighing heavily, he raised his fist, knocking twice against the door. “Charlie?”

No answer.

He opened the door anyway, stepping in and closing it softly behind him. Charlie was curled up on his side in his bed, back to the door. The stuffed horse that he’d had since he was a baby was clutched to his chest. 

Sitting down on the mattress beside him, Tommy folded his hands into his lap, despite wanting to reach out and smooth a palm across his boy’s golden hair. While he did not move or otherwise acknowledge his presence, Charlie’s eyes were open, red-rimmed and puffy from crying. 

“Charles,” he started after taking a deep breath, being mindful to keep his voice calm and soft. “I understand that these past few days have been hard, and that you miss Lizzie and Ruby, but you can’t talk to Lucy like that, mate. You hurt her feelings.”

Charlie didn’t respond, save for a small sniffle.

“Listen, Charlie,” he raised a hand to rest on his shoulder, then thought better of it and let it fall away limply instead. “I know you’re sad about Dangerous. But that’s not Lucy’s fault.” Hate me, he thought. If you have to hate anyone, hate me. But not her. “I miss him too.” 

Charlie began to sniffle again, chin trembling while a few more tears leaked out of his eyes. “He was a good horse.”

“Yeah.” This time, Tommy did rest a hand on Charlie’s head, stroking his soft hair soothingly. “Yeah, he was. But he was in pain, Charlie. And I wasn’t going to let him suffer. That would have been cruel. He didn’t deserve that; not when he’d been such a good horse to us. I know it’s hard to understand, but it was the best thing we could do for him.” He could still hear that final whinny that Dangerous let out as he pulled the trigger, see the way that his body twisted, hear the thud as he struck the hard ground. Just as he could still feel the weight of the gun in his hand, that moment of desperate, endless desire for relief as he raised it to point as his temple, holding it there. Just for a second. 

He could have pulled the trigger. And it would all have been over. No more pain. No more stress. No more unhappiness for those around him who he loved. 

No more Tommy. 

He jammed his eyes shut, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. “It was a kindness.”

Charlie started to cry harder,  burying his face in the worn material of his plushie. Tommy rubbed up and down on his small back as comfortingly as he knew how, just letting him get it all out. A good cry was probably what he had needed more than anything else.   

“I know. I know, my boy. It’s alright.” He drew in a rattling breath. “I’m sorry.” So many things he had to apologize for. If he tried to list them all, they’d have been there for an eternity. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt Lucy’s feelings,” Charlie finally said, after his tears had ceased into quiet sniffles. 

“I know you didn’t. But sometimes, we hurt people even when we don’t mean to. She loves you very much, Charlie. She only wants what’s best for you.”

Charlie sat up, rubbing at his eyes and still clutching his toy horse with one hand. “I know.” 

“You’re gonna need to apologize to her. And remind her that you love her.”

“Okay.”

Tommy nodded, a small, relieved sigh leaving his lungs. He tipped his head down to kiss his son’s forehead. Disaster averted, it would seem. 

“Where did you even hear those things that you said to her, ey? ‘Cos I know that you didn’t just come up with them all on your own.” He kept his voice light. Conversational. Easy going, even, so as to not upset him again.  

Charlie hesitated. 

“No one’s in trouble. I just want to know,” Tommy reassured. Charlie eyed him scrutinizingly, then looked down at his hands, fiddling with them in a way that reminded Tommy distinctly of how Lucy often fidgeted with her rings. 

“Mum was talking with Aunt Polly and Aunt Linda in the drawing room. I finished my spelling early, and I was going to ask Mum if I could go out into the stables. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”

Tommy closed his eyes, jaw tightening. But he pushed the anger down, not wanting Charlie to see it. “It was Lizzie who said it?”

“Yeah.” Charlie looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Please don’t be mad at her, Dad.”

A little too late for that, son. Putting an arm around him, Tommy craned his head to look down into his wide eyes. “Charlie…sometimes, Lizzie says things to or about Lucy that hurt her very much. Because she’s upset. Like what you did down there in the library.”

“But I didn’t mean it…”

“I know. And I don’t think that Lizzie often means the things that she says either. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her, or that it’s okay to say those types of things to her. You understand?”

Charlie considered, then nodded. 

“It upsets me, Charlie, when someone makes Lucy sad. Because I love her.”

“Do you love Mum?”

The question caught him off guard, frowning. Portraits of Grace still lined the walls of Arrow House, photographs of her scattered throughout the various rooms. He’d done all he could to keep her memory alive. To make sure that bits of her lingered with them always.

“Of course, Charlie. I still love and miss your mother very much–”

“No, not Mummy,” Charlie shook his head. “Mum,” he said, with great emphasis on the distinction. “Lizzie. Do you love her?”

Tommy froze. The question pried open a well of guilt inside of him, dark and all consuming. Charlie looked at him expectantly, those eyes that were suddenly almost a perfect reflection of his own staring back at him, assessing. 

How? How did he tell his child that he did not love the woman tasked with raising him?

“You’re really missing her and Ruby, ey?” he asked instead, hoping that Charlie would allow him the reprieve of dodging the question. His son stared up at him for a beat, and Tommy could see him processing the sidestepping of the inquiry, and the silent admission that came with it. He held his breath, waiting for Charlie to start shouting or crying again. But instead he just looked away, head bowed towards the floor with his legs swinging back and forth where they dangled off the edge of the bed. Tommy thought he caught a glimmer of disappointment, but also an understanding, well beyond Charlie’s years, shimmering in his eyes.

“I guess so.”

Tommy let out a silent, relieved breath, reaching up to stroke Charlie’s hair again. 

“Why did they have to leave?”

He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised at all these hard to answer questions being lobbed his way. Charlie was getting old enough to be able to comprehend, but not yet fully understand, that his father’s relationship with his wife and concubine was not exactly conventional.

“It’s…complicated, Charlie.”

“Are they coming back?”

“I…” I don’t know. But he couldn’t say that. Not to Charlie, at least. “I hope so.” But it was a hope not born out of missing his wife, but more so for Charlie and Ruby’s sake. He missed his sweet Ruby, with her joyful laugh and her bright eyes, terribly. 

As for Lizzie herself…she was a package deal with Ruby, and–outside of badmouthing his lover within earshot of his children–she was a good, stabilizing figure in Charlie’s life when he and Lucy weren’t home. So he tolerated her.

“Can I come out of my room now?”

Tommy looked at Charlie fondly, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “As long as you apologize to Lucy.”

“I will. Promise.”

“Alright, then.”

He followed Charlie out of his room and down the stairs, hands in his pockets, smiling a little to himself when Cyril came lumbering over to sniff and lick at Charlie’s palm, accompanying him the rest of the way to the library. Lucy wasn’t there, but Charlie’s toys were still scattered all over the floor. Tommy felt a small burst of pride as Charlie knelt down to start gathering them up and putting them neatly away. 

We made a good one, Grace, he thought, glancing over at the photograph of her on the table, a wave of the usual quiet melancholy that he always felt when he thought of her settling over him. Temper tantrums aside, of course. 

There was the soft click of nails on the floor, and then Asher was sniffing at his trouser leg, the big, black shepherd wagging his tail when Tommy reached down to stroke his head and give him a few scratches behind the ear. 

“Where did she go, Dad?” Charlie asked, finished with putting away his toys. Tommy cocked his head. 

“Ash, where’s your mum?” he asked the big black dog. His tail wagging increased. “Go find Mum!”

Asher made a little overexcited hop, and took off at a prance down the hall. Charlie took off after him.

Asher led them to the front drawing room, nosing open the door and trotting over to where Lucy was curled up on one of the sofas with Trouble. He flopped down on the floor beside her, eagerly knocking his head against her palm when she lowered it to pet him. The book she had been getting from the library when the whole mess transpired was propped up in her hands.  

Charlie hesitated a moment, looking nervous, glancing back at Tommy with wide eyes. Leaning against the wall by the door, Tommy gave him an encouraging nod. Charlie turned back to Lucy, shuffling forward.

“Lucy?”

She looked up from her book, sliding a bookmark into place and setting it aside when she saw him. “Hey, kiddo.”

Charlie inched closer until he was directly in front of her, fingers fiddling with each other again. “I…” his little brows pinched together, lips pouting. And then he flung his arms around Lucy’s neck, hiding his face away in her shirt. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

She rested a hand on the top of his head, returning the hug strongly. Tommy felt warm affection for them both stir inside his chest.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just mad.”

“I know. I know, sweetheart.” Lucy pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Tommy was about to go to them, when Frances appeared at his side. She glanced at Lucy and Charlie embracing, then leaned in to murmur quietly in his ear so as to not disturb them.

“Mr. Shelby, dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Frances. We’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded, and departed the room as quietly as she had entered. Tommy looked back at his son and his lover, crossing the room in a few strides to stand by the sofa. Charlie was still hugging Lucy tightly, and when she looked up to meet Tommy’s gaze, he could see that her eyes were a little glassy. 

“Dinner is ready,” he told her softly, reaching out a hand to pass over her shoulder. She nodded. Charlie didn’t seem to hear him, not loosening his grip around Lucy’s neck, not even when Tommy tousled his hair.   

“Charlie?” Lucy asked, gently smoothing her hand down his back. 

“I love you, Lucy,” he said, in a very small voice. Lucy leaned back, brushing away the few tears that had silently slipped down Charlie’s cheeks with her thumbs. 

“Oh, honey. I love you too.”

Charlie’s bottom lip wobbled. “I’m sorry I made you sad. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He hugged her again, little head coming to rest on her shoulder. Lucy pecked his cheek. He was starting to lose more of the baby fat in his face, features giving way to the cheekbones that Tommy had passed onto him. 

Fuck, he’s getting older, Tommy thought, no small amount of panic interlaced with the words.

“Let’s go to dinner, kiddo, yeah? Some food will make us both feel better, I think,” Lucy encouraged, rubbing his back. Charlie nodded, but didn’t make any movements. She rolled her eyes fondly, and scooped him up into her arms, hoisting him up onto one of her hips like she used to hold him when he was a baby. 

He may have been getting older, but at least he wasn’t at the age yet where he did not welcome being carried. Tommy did not know what he would do when that day came. With either of his children. Holding them in his arms was one of the few joys in life he still had left. 

Ruby should be here, he thought mournfully, the ache of missing his daughter widening within him. And with it, another drop of resentment, to fill the already overflowing bucket that he held towards his wife, dripped in.

“You eating with us?” Lucy asked. Tommy nodded, hand finding the small of her back to help steer her towards the doors that led into the dining hall. It wasn’t an unfounded question. He’d been so busy recently that he often ate at his desk rather than in the dining room. And even then, Lucy usually had to scold him into consuming a few mouthfuls of whatever was on the tray that Frances brought him.

He had work to do. Calls to make. But they could wait until morning, he decided. Right now, he just wanted to spend time with his lover and their child.  

∗ ∗ ∗

He watched Lucy where she was standing at the window. It was dark out, and the expansive grounds of the mansion looked like a great black void surrounding them. They had come down to the sitting room after tucking Charlie into bed. It had made his heart ache with love, watching as Lucy sat down on the mattress with his son, the book he’d selected for her to read to him clutched in her hands while Charlie snuggled into her side. Tommy had stood leaning against the doorway, watching them until Charlie’s eyelids started to droop and Lucy put the book down, slipping out of the bed and kissing him on the forehead. Tommy had stepped forward to do the same, and then they’d flicked off the light and tip-toed out the door.   

Taking a step towards her, he set his glass of whiskey down on the table and wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. She smelled sweetly of her rose and vanilla perfume, and he breathed in deep as he pressed a few kisses to her pulse point, drawing the scent eagerly into his lungs.

“Are you alright?” 

She brought one hand up to rest on top of his where he was holding her. “Yeah,” she said, in a voice not all that convincing. He kissed her neck again. 

“Come here.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her with him to one of the nearby sofas. She let him maneuver her until she was laying on the couch with her head in his lap, his fingers stroking tenderly through her mussed curls while her cheek pressed into his thigh. 

“There you go,” he said when her eyes slipped closed. “Just relax. It’s okay. It’s all worked out.”

“Until there’s a next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I’ll talk to Lizzie.”

She half lifted her head. “No, Tommy–” panic flashed in her eyes, but he urged her to lay back down on him.

“I’m not going to try to pick a fight over it,” he soothed, knowing how guilty she always felt whenever they argued because of her. “But she can’t talk about you like that. At least not when the kids are within earshot. I won’t have her trying to turn them against you.”

“I feel like I deserve it.”

He frowned. “What? Why?”

Her green eyes looked up at him sadly. “I’m having an affair with her husband.”

“I’m not sure what we’re doing can really be classified as an affair, love.”

“You’re fucking a woman who isn’t your wife. That’s the definition of an affair, Tommy.”

“She gave us her blessing…”

“Did she? I’d say that it’s got to be the most reluctant, begrudging blessing in the whole world, then.”  

He was quiet at that, still frowning down at her. “It’s not your fault that she’s unhappy. She knew what the arrangement between us was going to be like before we got married. She knows I’ll never leave you.”

“She changed her mind about being alright with it…”

“That’s not our problem. We shouldn’t have to upheaval our entire lives together because Lizzie decided to go back on the arrangement the three of us made. We’ve already made plenty of accommodations towards her.” He touched her cheek. “Her happiness is not your responsibility. You’ve done more than enough for her already. It’s up to her if she can figure out a way to live with us or not. And she doesn’t just get to take all her anger about a situation she got herself into out on you. I won’t allow it.” His fingers traced the shape of one of her cheekbones. “I promised I’d protect you from her”

Lucy turned her face to kiss the center of his palm. “What if she decides that she can’t live with us? If she leaves you…”

“Then I’ll deal with it.” With a sigh, he raised a hand to thumb at his brow. “I’ll try to get her to stay. For the kids, if not for anything else. I’d really rather not deal with the mess that a divorce would cause; at least not right now. Not on top of everything else. But if she really is set on leaving…I’m not going to hold her prisoner here.” 

Lucy looked down, index finger tracing over one of the buttons on his shirt. Tommy watched her shrewdly, still noting traces of miserable guilt in her eyes. He felt his heart twist at the sight of it.

“It’ll be okay,” he told her, hoping that she could see the love he had for her reflected in his eyes.

“He was right,” her lips trembled slightly. “Most everyone does hate me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re still horribly outnumbered, love.”

His fingers stroked delicately over her hair again. “Arthur doesn’t hate you. Neither does Ada. Or Uncle Charlie, or Curly, or Johnny Dogs, or Aberama, or the kids…there’s lots of people who care about you.”

A shaky breath left her lips, turning her face to hide against his stomach. Tommy put his arms around her, the embrace a little awkward due to their positioning of her laying across his thighs, but they managed. His sweet girl. His best friend. His lover. His Lucy. With her huge heart and her desperation to make everyone else’s lives better and easier even at the expense of her own. She didn’t deserve any of this. 

He wanted to gather her up, pull her into his chest where he could keep her safe and sheltered forever. 

“I love you.” His grip around her tightened, lips pressing to her neck, slowly working their way up to her cheek, brushing only just against her mouth when she turned her head to receive him. “I love you so much.” His body shifted against hers, holding her closer, suddenly desperate to comfort her in the best way that he knew how. “Let me show you.”

Her lips parted to his, hands latching onto his shoulders when he brought his mouth down more firmly on hers. A soft groan left his throat at the first slow stroke of their tongues against each other. Shifting them with a hand on the back of her head and the other at her waist, he pulled her up the couch a little so that her head was laying on the armrest with him hovering over her. 

“Should we go upstairs?” Lucy asked between long, slow kisses.

“No,” he shook his head, hands moving to open the buttons on her shirt. He heard her breath catch as he moved his face to start sucking love bites into her neck. “We have the house all to ourselves, tonight.” 

It was a rare occurrence. Where once they’d been free to fuck almost anywhere they pleased in the big mansion, after his marriage to Lizzie they ended up more often than not relegated to their room. Neither of them were particularly eager to have to face the sour mood that would likely follow if Lizzie caught them entangled together. 

A shudder went through Tommy, momentarily thrilled at the thought of being able to have her out in the open like this. His want for her was building steadily, trousers growing uncomfortably tight, not helped in the slightest when she opened her legs to let him lay in the cradle of her hips. 

Charlie almost always slept like the dead. He wouldn’t be up again tonight. And the staff had already turned in for the evening. There was no risk of them being interrupted. 

Clothes came off, tossed carelessly to the floor while they continued to kiss over and over again. Tommy’s hands threaded through her hair, feeling the soft red curls twine around his fingers, as if trying to cling to him as tightly as she was gripping his back and shoulders.  

“Tommy…” Her hand was on the nape of his neck, pulling his mouth down even more firmly onto hers. 

“Want to make you feel better…” he crooned, slipping a thigh between her legs. A needy sound left him at the slickness his leg was met with and the noise she made at the pressure he was putting on her clit. Her hips started to grind onto him, greedy hands groping at his naked torso, tracing the shapes of his scars and tattoos. He couldn’t help the delighted sound he released when she ran her fingers around the sun rays that circled his left pec, drawing the circles tighter and tighter until she brushed against his nipple.

“Fuck,” she arched her back when his hands moved to cup both her breasts. He gave each globe of flesh a firm squeeze, thumbs stroking over her hardened nipples and lightly pinching them. Her hips jerked, rubbing herself more firmly against his thigh, and he felt his cock throb in response to her wantonness. 

Propping himself up on his hands, he raised himself over her enough so that he could drink in the glories of her body. Soft, delectable curves, with full breasts and round hips, her fair skin covered in an array of freckles and scars and encasing strong, lean muscle. 

He could have stayed there just looking at her for forever. Drinking in her unfathomable beauty. He wanted to worship her. Claim her. Gorge himself on her. Lay himself at her feet and let her do what she pleased with him. Married to Lizzie or not, it was Lucy who he belonged to completely. Always. 

A growling noise sounded from low in his chest, dropping his head and beginning to slowly working kisses down her body. Taking his time lavishing her breasts with his mouth before moving lower. She whined when he had to retract his thigh from between her legs, but quieted when he brought both her legs over his shoulders. Looking up at her through the fringe that had fallen partially into his eyes, a smirk pulled at his lips at the shiver that went through her as he slid his hands up her sensitive thighs, reaching for her wetness. At the first brush against her folds he groaned, finding her already soaked and throbbing for him. 

“Fucking hell, love.” His swollen cock pulsed, aching with the thought of how easily he would be able to slide into her. Lowering his face, he pressed a kiss to her clit, tongue teasing over the sensitive nub before darting out for a taste of her folds. On either side of his head, her legs twitched, her fingers diving into his hair, hips lifting to chase his touch. At the first breach of one of his fingers into her, he felt his jaw flex with a gasp at the tight warmth that enveloped the digit. Lucy’s fingers clenched in his hair, and when he looked up it was to find her with her head lolled back against the armrest, eyes screwed shut, full lips parted with a moan, her fiery hair a mess of glorious curls around her face. 

He swallowed roughly at the sight, another shock of need traveling down his spine straight to his cock. With a soft groan, he lowered his head back to her cunt, and set to work. He knew her body better than he knew his own. Knew just how to roll his thumb over her clit to make her nearly scream. When to curl his fingers inside her to get her moans to raise a pitch. And when she was warmed up and ready enough for him to add a second finger to the mix, stretching her even wider in preparation for the girth of his impatient erection. 

He coaxed her to the very brink of orgasm, drawing her up, up, up…listening to her moans grow in frequency and pitch, feeling the way that her walls gripped and fluttered around his fingers and her clit twitched on his tongue. And then he withdrew, grinning cheekily when she let out a mournful cry, eyes popping open as he moved to prop himself above her once again. Tears welled in her eyes at her stolen orgasm, an adorable pout forming on her lips.

She looked so fucking cute like that, all pleasure-drunk and desperate. 

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he soothed, not letting her suffer for long. This was about making her feel better, after all. And he had always been incapable of denying her anything. He kissed her nose, chuckling fondly at the pleading look that crossed her face. With the hand that moments ago had two fingers knuckle-deep inside her, he grasped his erection, hard and thick between his legs. Flushed and oozing beads of precum from the tip. It ached with pent-up desire, every throbbing inch longing for her tight cunt. “Want to be inside you when you come for me.” 

He saw her pupils blow out even further than they already were, almost swallowing the green of her irises completely. “Tommy,” she reached out, pulling his mouth back to hers. He kissed her back desperately, each of them moaning into the other’s mouth as he lined himself up, weeping cockhead nudging at her entrance. 

“Ready?” he asked between long, wet kisses. He always liked to make sure. At her enthusiastic nod and mumble of consent, he pushed just the first few inches of his cock in, then withdrew completely, then pushed only the head back in again. She whimpered, nails scratching down his biceps lightly. 

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?”

He laughed, nuzzling at her cheek affectionately, as if his cock wasn’t crying out to him in protest each time that he withdrew it from her tight, wet entrance. Taking his chin in her hand, Lucy guided his mouth to hers, those pillow-soft lips of hers curled up into a smile as they brushed against his. Her other hand went to his ass, giving a gentle press to encourage him to go deeper, and this time he relented. Low moans were unleashed into each other’s mouths as he finally pushed himself all the way inside of her, until his balls rested against her and their hips were flush together.

Tommy’s head spun with the feeling of being buried to the hilt inside her. The fit was so snug, it made stars pop across his vision. He swore that there was no feeling in the world better than this. Being one with her. Having her in the circle of his arms. The warmth of her kiss sinking into his skin.  

He pushed himself up on his hands just enough to be able to brush a few tendrils of hair out of her face, caressing her cheek and smiling down at her softly. She smiled back at him, almost shyly. 

“I love you,” he punctuated the statement with a kiss. Her arms went around his shoulders.

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again, reaching down to take hold of one of her thighs to hook it around his waist, and then he slowly started to thrust.

Sex with Lucy had always been one of his greatest comforts. It served as a reaffirmation of the connection between them, that little invisible thread that seemed to tether them together only growing stronger with every touch. No one else made him feel so loved, so safe and free to simply be himself, as Lucy did. More and more these days, he found himself needing the reminder that she was still there. Despite everything. All the shit he’d put her through. All the monumental sacrifices that she had to make to be with him. She was still there, and she still loved him. 

It had never been lost on him how lucky he was. 

Most days, he ached both in and out with wounds that would never wholly heal. But her just being there made it all easier. She made him happy, even on the days when he started to think that he’d lost the ability to feel any sort of joyous emotion at all.  

“Lucy,” he grunted. Her walls were hugging every inch of his cock, squeezing tight enough around him to make him feel almost light headed. He watched her long lashes flutter, head falling back to expose the length of her pale throat to his kisses while she moaned as he found the right angle in his thrusts to rub right up against that spot that always had her coming in record time. 

“Right there. Right there. Don’t stop,” she begged, nails scoring down his back, no doubt leaving faint red scratches in their wake. Reaching a hand between them, he thumbed at her clit, drawing tight circles around it in time with their love making. 

He could feel the sensation of tingles starting to build at the base of his spine, his balls beginning to tense and draw up as they prepared to spill his load. He groaned deeply at the sensation of her hand gripping his ass so tightly he was sure that she left little crescent moon indentations from her nails behind. The idea of being marked by her in such a way was enough to make his eyes roll in his head, hips bucking more vigorously. 

“I’m coming,” she gasped, as if he could not already feel it in the way that she squeezed around him so tight that it felt like she was trying to draw his very soul out through his cock and into her. The hand she had resting on the back of his neck pressed his face down more firmly against where he was sucking at the place where her neck met shoulder. The flexing and tightening of her walls around him had Tommy careening right over the edge with her, cock twitching and then releasing as he let out a thunderous groan, rolling his hips a few more times to prologue the pleasure as he spilled into her. 

He stilled with a deep sigh, head coming to rest on her clavicle, arms wrapping around her, keeping his still slightly twitching cock buried deep in her body. Lucy draped her arms around his shoulders. They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, chests heaving as they fought to catch their breaths. 

Tommy closed his eyes, peacefulness momentarily sweeping over him as Lucy started to absentmindedly trace her fingers over a scar on his shoulder, then reached up to stroke his hair. Turning his face, he pecked at one of the many scars that covered her skin, nuzzling before raising his head to find her lips once more.    

“Feeling better?” he asked, moving his mouth from her lips to her cheek. 

“Mhm,” she brushed a few bits of dark hair out of his eyes. “Thank you.” Cradling his face, she kissed him again softly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He moved to kiss her neck again a few times. “You’re a good mum, you know.”

She averted her gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in rubbing a hand up and down his chest. Tommy’s fingers curled at her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“You are.” His voice was stern, but kind. “Charlie adores you. They both do.”

Her hand flattened against the smattering of hair on his chest, and based on how still she suddenly became, he could tell that she was feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths and the thump of his heart. 

“Thank you,” she said again, and he knew from simply looking into her eyes that she was talking about far more than just tonight or his words of reassurance. He gave her a soft look, brushing his nose affectionately against hers. Dropping his face to bury into the side of her neck, he breathed in the lingering scent of her perfume, enjoying the warmth of her skin. The weight of her tucked in his arms was incredibly comforting. He could have stayed there forever. 

But falling asleep on the couch was likely to cause her shoulders to bother her come morning. Even without her chronic pain, neither of them were exactly spring chickens anymore. Her remembered when they used to be able to fuck on the floor without issue. 

“Shall we go to bed?” Lucy asked, apparently thinking the same thing that he was. Tommy nodded, drawing himself up enough to kiss her once more before he pulled out, both of them wincing a little at the oversensitivity as he withdrew his softening cock. Sitting up on the couch, he began hunting around for their clothes, dragging on his underwear and passing Lucy her knickers. 

“Oi!” he huffed, trying–and failing–to hide his smile when she snatched away his undershirt, pulling it on to let it hang loosely over her body. She was short enough that it came down nearly to her mid-thigh.

“Mine now,” she said possessively, flashing him a cheeky grin. Tommy cupped the back of her head, drawing her in for yet another kiss. 

“Looks better on you anyway.”

She smiled, looking down bashfully, cheeks turning an adorable light pink. An undignified yelp left her lips when he suddenly stood and scooped her up, carrying her bridal style towards the stairs. 

“What about the rest of our clothes?” she laughed, looping her arms around his neck. 

“The maids will deal with them.”

She hummed, letting her head lean against his chest. His steps stuttered when she started to pepper firm kisses all across his skin, breath hitching when she let her teeth nip teasingly at his nipple, footfalls growing hastier, until he was almost speed-walking towards their room. 

She opened the door for him since his hands were full, and he didn’t bother turning on a light as he stepped in and kicked the door shut behind him. Moonlight snuck in through the sheer curtains, casting silvery-blue beams across the floor. Tommy captured her lips in his, movements creaking the floorboards as he managed to get them to the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows after he tossed her onto the mattress, and it was not lost on him how her eyes trained on his naked chest before lowering to fix on the tent already starting to form in his shorts. 

“Again?” she laughed, as he crawled on top of her.

“Again,” he affirmed, and descended on her with a playful growl.

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[jintaka-hane]

For the new years event can i request heat and rain by sleep token 👉👈

Also asked by @heats-lover-girl <3

Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event

HEAT

Summary: If you play with fire, one day you'll get burned. Word count: 1100 Warning: x f!reader; rough kissing All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

If eyes could eat, you'd be nothing but skin and bones by now.

You love teasing him. In fact, it’s one of your favorite pastimes, and seeing how every little thing you do gets a reaction, you get bolder and bolder.

You always pick moments when he can’t touch you. Is he following orders from the captain? You strut across the deck right in front of him, grinning and swaying your hips. Is he meticulously working on some carpentry project that keeps his hands occupied? You call his name, then give him a flirty wink while biting your bottom lip. Is he busy demolishing an enemy crew? Being a walking flamethrower takes focus, but there you are, gazing at him seductively from a distance, wetting your lips and blowing kisses his way.

"One day, I’m gonna grab you and ain’t lettin’ go," he always growls when you push things a little too far, frustrated because he can’t lay a hand on you. But all bark and no bite, you think with a laugh, skipping away challengingly while his eyes eat you alive.

You know those sunken, haunted eyes of his have traced every inch of your body. That the teeth behind his scarred lips have nearly cracked from the tension of clenching them too hard. And that beads of sweat have slid down that tattooed neck of his as he imagines all the things he’d do to you if he could.

But the commander with the blue-tinted dreads never takes action. Maybe it’s shyness, or maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment. Either way, that threat of his never comes to fruition, and you keep provoking him, like a little bunny daring the wolf to strike.

“… and to kick off the year like the last, tomorrow at dawn, we’ll conquer another fucking island! NOW DRINK!” Kid shouts, half-drunk, concluding his usual New Year’s Eve speech.

The crew cheers, raising their drinks high and spilling them everywhere, though hardly anyone actually listened. They’re too busy fighting over bites of the epic feast Killer prepared, while the blonde tries to shove people away from the mountain of roasted meat.

It’s always chaos aboard the ship on New Year’s Eve. Preparations start out orderly enough, with tasks divided to decorate the ship using whatever you can get your hands on. Stolen shiny objects, glittering scraps of metal, or pieces of looted treasure. Everything’s fair game and counts as festive if you look at it the right way. But as soon as the captain climbs up onto the massive dinosaur skull to give his speech, things spiral out of control because you all know what comes next. Barrel races over the water, drinking competitions and arm-wrestling matches with high-stakes bets, and the traditional “treasure hunt,” with a very drunk Wire as the guardian.

You clutch your stomach, laughing uncontrollably as you lie sprawled on the deck, your clothes and hair completely soaked from the countless times Bubblegum has tossed you overboard. Quincy reaches out a hand to help you up, and you grab it, letting her pull you to your feet while swiping Hop’s drink on the way up.

“Hey!” she yells, launching herself at you and knocking you back to the ground. You can’t stop laughing, and amidst the playful scuffle, you feel it again. Those eyes burning holes into your body.

The tall commander hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night, his tattooed arms resting on the railing and his long hair cascading over his shoulders, staring at you as if you were the only person on the deck.

"Guys, guys, guys! The cannon!!! It’s almost midnight!!" Dive yells, bouncing up and down as she points at Kid, who sets his drink on the railing and aims the ship’s main cannon at the sky.

Everyone scrambles to their feet and rushes over there. It’s going to be spectacular when he fires it, and no one wants to miss the show. You wrap your arms around Quincy and Bubblegum, and at Killer’s signal, everyone starts shouting the countdown.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six!"

Kid lets out a wild howl at the top of his lungs, and the crew cheers, joining him before continuing with the countdown.

"Five, four, three, two, one!"

BOOOOOOOM!!

The captain laughs maniacally as he fires the cannon, the explosion shaking your chest and making you gasp as thousands of glittering scraps of metal rain down on you. The crew roars, and just as you open your mouth wide to shout “Happy New Year!”, a few taps on your shoulder stop you. Raising an eyebrow, you turn around, and for the first time since joining the Kid Pirates, you tremble.

"Got you," Heat says, his imposing figure looming over you, eyes filled with the desperation of a ravenous man. He grabs your cheeks, guides your face upward, and before you can react, crashes his mouth possessively onto yours. His tattooed lips move against yours in a rough, almost bruising kiss, leaving you with no choice but to surrender and kiss him back.

"UUUUH!!! Woohoo!! Go get her, Heat!" You hear cheers and whistles erupt from the crew.

The sparkling rain of metal continues to fall around you as you laugh into the kiss, your hands blindly tracing the snaking designs inked on Heat's neck before tangling in his locks. He hums, low and pleased, then his hands roam over your shoulders and down your back. When you finally need to break for air, one of your hands presses against his chest. But as soon as you tilt your head back, he growls, his grip tightening on a strand of your hair to keep you in place.

Wolf-like howls echo around you and you give in. Your fingers grip the laces of his corset as his other hand moves lower, settling on your lower back and closing the small gap between your bodies. Breathless, you try once more to pull away, only for him to growl again, his jaw tilting against yours as he nips at your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open further to deepen the kiss.

"Uh, okay… I'll take Dive," you hear Killer say.

"No!" Dive stomps her feet and protests.

"Yes, ma’am, we’re going...," the first mate adds, but he pauses, and you’re certain he’s watching as Heat becomes wild, gripping your ass as if he can’t get enough of you. "In fact… we’re all going. Guys! The party continues in the aft castle!"

"YEEEES!" the crew roars, leaving you helpless and giddy in the wolf's grasp.

................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Dude, I just— I made a Tumblr account to follow you JANDKSND and ask for a request 🤧🤧

Can we have some of Kyley-B x reader? 😵‍💫 I would like to read a cliché of the innocent girl and the bad boy who incites her to do illicit things (with smut, of course). 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Heeeeeyaaaaaa my first request! ❤️

I am so so so so sorry for taking so long to get to it. Really need to make my writing more speedy and efficient.

Hope you liked it, and once again, really damn sorry 😭😭😭

Also, a belated merry christmas/happy holidays to everyone!

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene

Also available on ao3!

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Doggy Style Position

A/N: Gods was this one hard. I never imagined writing Kyley-B would be this hard. Props to everyone who has managed thus far, because this guy wrestled against me in my mind for the whole 14 pages of the Google Docs and even now that I'm posting it I'm not sure I actually won.

I tried my hardest to put together what an adult version of Jersey Kyle would be if he really donned the mantle. Hope I did him justice.

The story of how my life changed forever was rooted in New Jersey, but happened nowhere near there.

When I applied to work at the South Park Public Library, I thought it would be an easy task. Library work in a small secluded town, in a day and age where people mostly forgot about physical books due to the convenience of Kindles or their own phones? How hard can it be? Turns out, very. The place greatly suffered from a lack of useful employees, so I ended up doing a lot of extra work that had nothing to do with what I was hired for, with no extra pay, when the salary was already not that stellar to begin with. Not a great headstart for a fresh-out-of-college English major such as myself, but it was this or the 7/11.

Days like that one kind of made the whole thing worth it, though. Summer weekends in the middle of July, when all the students were on vacation and people lacked the urge to read in favor of other activities, and the only people that would actually visit the library would be soft-spoken loners who just craved the social connection but at the same time didn’t want to chase it. In those days, I was able to just sit back on my chair at the reception counter and take full advantage of the amount of books around me, reading to my heart’s content for almost a full eight hours and getting paid for it.

Such a situation is how I found myself at that particular moment. Curled up as well as I could get in my tiny office chair, my shoes forgotten under the desk in favor of the comfort of being barefoot, yet another book in my hands that wasn’t part of my enormous ‘To Read’ list. It was all cruising up to be another quiet and peaceful day, just a few check outs and some small talk.

Except it wasn’t.

I heard the sizzling of a dynamite’s wick before seeing a full blown atomic bomb. Loud squeaky sounds of sneaker soles trudging across the hardwood, strings of profanities being spewed with each step, followed by the shocked gasps of some of the people seated nearby and their hurried movement as they got out of the way in every direction. Noise like this would usually have me kindly remind its emitter of the setting around them and beg for more silence, but as I raised my eyes from my book, I knew it would be of no use.

Already in front of the counter was one of the most obnoxious-looking men I had ever seen. His blazing curly red hair was slicked back with an obscene amount of gel on it, to the point where it made me wonder if it just started to stay that way after his showers. I couldn’t see him from the waist down, but he was wearing a loose fit wife beater, showing off the muscles of his arms in all their ‘glory’. A golden chain dangled around his neck, clearly fake, the paint already chipped in places where its links connected. His tanned skin already looked out of place in the cold town in the middle of the mountains, where its citizens were mostly pale due to never seeing enough sun to actually get a tan to begin with - but this man was just a few shades away from orange, painfully artificial, he’d stand out like a sore thumb no matter where he was.

“That’s right, you better fucking go, bitch!” The loud addition to my peaceful workplace called out angrily, looking over his shoulder, finishing up his threats on the last bypasser he could before turning his face forward again, which finally let me take a good look at his features. There I saw which had to be the only real thing about him - intense olive eyes that glinted with a fire unknown to me, pure passion and energy, the type that could either burn someone to the ground or keep them warm and safe in the winters. Right now, however, they could set the entire library ablaze by sheer feral glares alone.

I hurriedly scrambled to adjust my position in my seat and rested my book to the side of my computer. “Good afternoon and welcome to the South Park Public Library, restrooms are at the end of the first corridor to the left,” my explanation was kind and gentle, accompanied by a gesture of my hand in the general direction I spoke of.

“I don’t wanna know about no fuckin’ toilet,” the man spat, as if me merely opening my mouth to say something that was of no use to him was enough to make him angry beyond measure, “I’m here to return this.”

With an unneeded display of strength that made all the other items in the counter shake slightly, he slammed a book on it in front of me, his hand staying splayed on top of the cover, allowing me to see that his fingers were fully decked out in fake gold rings in the same fashion of his chain.

Even without seeing the full thing, I recognized that book immediately. My eyes widened. If I was to be honest, I didn’t even imagine the guy in front of me was capable of reading to begin with - and the book he brought was such difficult literature, even I struggled with it at first, so to imagine he deliberately checked that one out and allegedly read it to completion flabbergasted me.

I forced myself to blink and reel back from my shock before continuing the interaction. Get it together, I told myself mentally. My mother told me all the time to never judge a book by its cover - even if that defeated the whole purpose of book cover graphic designers to begin with -, and this was what I was doing right now; letting my prejudices get in the way of what could be a healthy interaction with a fellow bookworm.

Lightly, I placed my hands on the sides of the book and pulled it slowly towards me, letting it slide under his palm, which I avoided touching altogether lest it make him more angry. “Of course, sir,” I managed to assemble a gentle smile on my lips, trying my best to not let my previous thoughts show up on my face.

“Don’t call me sir, I’m not that old,” this complaint was slightly less persistent, but I was still not about to test his limits on it.

“Of course… Mister,” the word in that context sounded way too weird to me, but it was better than the two alternatives of either insisting on ‘sir’ or just not calling him by any title at all, “I’m just gonna need your library card, if you have it on you right now…”

His hand left the counter to retrieve something in his pocket, before swiftly passing to me a tiny rectangular piece of plastic - his library card, the old design of them at that, which meant he had it for quite a while now. My eyes narrowed as I scanned it, my brain multitasking with my fingers typing his card number on the database, and I found myself repeating the information out loud. “Alright, let’s see… Kyle Br-”

“Kyley-B,” his correction came harsh and immediate, stopping me from saying even one more letter of his government name, “And don’t you dare forget it.”

I really hadn’t. It wasn’t like I didn’t know his name, everyone knew it well - he was an infamous face in town. Originally from New Jersey and carrying with him every single terrible stereotype about the place, the man before me caused trouble wherever he went, having very little regard for anything that didn’t concern himself, and yet expecting everyone else to show him the respect he lacked for them. He had actually been in South Park longer than I did, but apparently what was said held true: you can’t take the Jersey out of someone.

“M-My apologies… Kyley-B,” I tried my best to abide by his request and use his nickname in a sentence no matter how ridiculous it sounded, while still typing on the computer to avoid enhancing his anger in any way, “It’s all set. Feel free to peruse the collection if you’d like to borrow something else.” Please don’t was the thought that came right after.

He nodded curtly, taking the card from me to put it back in his pocket, and I noticed his shoulders relaxing a little. Apparently, me being polite and understanding appeased him greatly, like he had understood that I wasn’t one of the assholes trying to get him pissed or something. For as long as I was respectful, I’d stay out of the path of destruction. I could swear I saw the intensity in his eyes shift a bit - but I avoided staring too long, both in fear of getting him angry again and in slight embarrassment at the thought that he might notice me doing that. “Thanks. I think I will.”

Leaning back in my chair and picking my book back up in my hands, I figured that was that. Kyley-B would go off somewhere looking for trouble and I’d be back to my silence and my reading. Yet I didn’t hear the same noises I had when he arrived; no cursing, no loud shoes, no nothing. When I raised my eyes again, he was still there - leaning towards me with his forearms on the counter and a curious expression on his face.

“Do you… Need any help?” I inquired, slowly placing the book on my lap and rolling the chair closer to the desk so he wouldn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have my attention.

A smirk curved his lips as he eyed me up and down. “Nah, just… Perusing.” 

Well, now that’s a word I would never hear out of the mouth of a Jersey guy.

“Okay…” My fingers nervously tapped the cover of my book. “If there’s anything I can do for you, then-”

“There is, actually,” his body swayed slightly as he shifted his weight on his feet, “Has to do with my phone. You can put your number in it.”

Another jolt of bewilderment crossed my features. Allowing myself to focus my eyes on his again, I then understood what it was I saw on them earlier. Attraction. Now that he wasn’t angry anymore, Kyley-B was allowing himself to see me as a woman instead of Personal Enemy Number Ten Thousand. And he made no attempt to hide that he liked what he saw. The blood ran to my cheeks and ears before I could compose myself, my body clearly not accustomed to such unabashed interest. “E-Excuse me?”

“Your number, baby,” he repeats as if it’s nothing, “Could say I’m tryna make a movie with you here, but you clearly rather have your erotica in book form.”

What kind of Jersey asshole even knows about the word ‘erotica’? “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

A ring-adorned index finger pointed towards the book on my lap and I froze. I had deliberately chosen the version of this book - a rather obscure piece of erotic literature, the first of a series - that had a more passable cover, absolutely nothing in it that could give away its themes, in a way that they could only be known by someone who already knew the title. And there was no way Kyley did, right?

“I’ll tell you right now, stop at the first one. The sequels are garbage.” Kyley did. He shook his head with his own advice, like the memories of having to go through the continuations of that book brought stress back to his mind again.

My hands quickly grabbed the book and tried to hide it behind my computer monitor, away from his eyes, but the damage had been done. I tried to retort, but the words got stuck in my throat, coming out as gasps that enhanced further my petrified face, my wide eyes and the intensifying blush in my cheeks and ears. 

“Cat get ya tongue?” Kyley teased as if reading my mind, his upper body leaning over the counter so his pointing finger could brush softly against my cheek, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m no blabbermouth.”

Still I took a bit to relax and believe his words. This was a small town, gossip spread as easily as the snow fell, it would be hard to show my face anywhere without having jokes hurled towards me about being a ‘closeted freak’. Which was extremely far from the truth, to be honest - that genre of book was not amongst my most read, I was as vanilla as they came, it was literally an unfortunate circumstance that led to anyone finding out about this.

The fact that Kyley-B was so uncharacteristically decent and understanding about it too, despite the initial teasing when he was hitting on me, threw me off even more. He had no reason to help me, and he was notorious for being unhelpful, so this was odd behavior on his part. My mind raced with reasons as to why that would be, trying to make sense of the madness - maybe he had secrets of his own, or maybe he just understood how it was to be the subject of unsavory discussions everywhere he passed. Either way, I found myself thankful for his actions.

Eventually, I let out a deep sigh, my lungs almost hurting as I did. “Thank you… Kyley.” I murmured, nodding slowly, my eyes shining with the gratitude that I couldn’t express with words without sounding corny.

He brought his hand back to himself, and I looked at his face again, seeing the exact same intense expression as before. Maybe, in my slight delirium of trying to build up Kyley-B as an actual human being with thoughts and feelings instead of your stereotypical Jersey playboy, I had imagined it faltering.

“That’s something I like to hear,” the flirtatious tone of voice was back with a vengeance, “Now, about that phone number of yours...”

And just like that, I was avoiding his eyes once more, my hands drifting down to fidget with the hem of my skirt absentmindedly, making me look even more suspicious. “I… I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“We only have to get inappropriate if you want me to,” his smirk grew. His voice didn’t even drop in volume as he said this, like he was completely comfortable with talking to unknown women like that - which he probably was, “We can just go party, have a couple drinks, make some noise, shit, whatever it is you like.”

Whatever it was I liked did not involve any of the things he mentioned. “I… I’m afraid I might not be the ideal person for that.” As I tried to let him down easy, I felt a striking pain in my chest; like the act of refusing made me uncomfortable, like I somehow wanted to accept it, even though it didn’t belong to me at all. “But thank you for the offer.”

“‘Not ideal’? What the fuck is that about?” He retorted, and for a moment I thought I might’ve riled him up again - but, although he was still loud, he didn’t seem angrier. More so confused about what I said rather than the circumstances of it. “I’m inviting ya, ain’t I? How the fuck is that not ideal?”

“It’s not the invitation!” I was quick to respond, “It’s just I don’t think I’m the right kind of company for all that… I’m sure there’s better people in town who would love to go clubbing with you.”

“Well, I’m not inviting those other people, I’m inviting you!” It was clear the insistence would not wane anytime soon. He rubbed his eyes with his palms for a bit, his mind trying to come up with a solution, before taking a deep breath and looking at me again. “How about some coffee, or tea, then? You into that?”

My eyes widened in surprise and he probably knew he struck gold there. A coffee shop was much more up my alley, but never in a million years would I imagine the likes of Kyley-B in such an environment - somewhere with no alcohol, no loud music, and where fighting was not tolerated. “I… I am, yes.”

“Coffee it is, then,” his tone was every bit as comfortable as he was when he mentioned partying, “Just gotta avoid that one place near the movie theater. Tastes like shit and the owner is a piece of garbage.”

A small giggle left my mouth. I had been to that coffee shop and knew its owner personally, it wasn’t hard considering the town was pretty small. For once in his life, Kyley-B was right, even if I personally wouldn’t phrase it all like he did. The business was probably only kept standing due to the fact people were too used to it by now, but it was the one place where I wouldn’t mind seeing a Jersey-level rage outburst take place. 

My reaction was stifled by a glare Kyley shot at me, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand if I was laughing at him or with him. “I’m sorry! It’s just… I don’t like that place either.” I admitted, immediately scanning the library hall with wide eyes, trying to see if there was anyone around that could’ve heard me say that. 

His expression relaxed and he nodded. “You ain’t gotta be so shy, you know,” he commented, his tone slightly more serious, “If you have your truth, then you gotta just say it. It’s how we do it in Jersey, and it works!”

It didn’t really work, but I wasn’t about to question him, not when the structure of his message was in the right place. My whole existence happened inside strict lines ever since I was a kid, I was one to keep my opinions to myself and rein in my actions to keep myself palatable to the people around me. This lifestyle had me sheltered to a fault, but until that moment I was fine with it; going through life avoiding trouble kept me healthy and safe, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. However, Kyley-B’s advice still held some sort of water, and I found myself willing to hear more, even though it came from such an unreliable narrator.

“I know, I know… I just didn’t want anyone to hear me say that. It feels weird.” I shrugged.

“Well, maybe if that place wasn’t so trashy, you wouldn’t have to complain about it, it’s exactly what I am saying!” He retorted, the serious edge in his voice gone and replaced by the usual annoyance. “And I keep telling people that, but they won’t listen!”

With every passing millisecond, Kyley-B managed to confuse me more. While a part of me was stuck on the still present image of the annoying jerk who only knows how to pick fights and be rude to others, another part slowly took form; one that was intrigued about that man, knowing that although he could be a little too much, he was still completely true to himself, which is more than what can be said about a lot of the people around me. Right now, he carried his actions like a motorcycle zig-zagging through the traffic of my mind. Its destination? The inside of my skirt. 

“I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.”

Kyley-B nodded with a smirk, content that I wasn’t disputing him like people usually seemed to do. Though something told me that even if I did, I still wouldn’t be subjected to the same type of verbal abuse others would if they tried that. “Now, back to that coffee…” 

I then managed to notice that we weren’t alone in our conversation anymore when a hand sneaked from behind the Jersey man, tapping his shoulder a bit. Immediately my brain was blaring sirens, the word ‘DANGER’ being transmitted by every one of my neurons. “Excuse me, sir?” Another male voice called out, well-mannered enough, yet still firm.

Kyley-B immediately turned to face the unknown third party, his eyebrows furrowing and whole expression hardening into anger. “What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

Apparently the stranger had very little regard for his life, because he didn’t back out from the rude display, their tone instead becoming louder and more insistent in retaliation. “Well, your ‘something’ needs to happen somewhere else, because I have to check out this book and this is the only counter available!” He lifted his hand to show Kyley the book he was holding, as if that would drill the information into his skull.

All it did was make him more angry. He quickly snatched the book from the client’s hand, throwing it with such force it managed to hit the wall farthest from us, before stepping closer to the stranger and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The client was stunned for a second, both from his book being thrown and from the sudden inferred physical threat. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Through his shock he still managed to spit back, trying his best to mirror Kyley’s body language and tone; but it’s hard to be as violent as a guy from Jersey. “Can’t you see you’re fucking wrong? Back off!”

“No, you back off!” Kyley used both his hands to push his adversary away - the other guy stumbled backwards a few feet, but luckily didn’t fall. However, the Jersey man was quick to breach the freshly created distance with hard steps. “I’ll fucking teach garbage like you not to mess with me!”

Right in front of the stranger again, Kyley cracked his knuckles and squared his shoulders. The other guy straightened his posture and balled both fists at his sides, prepared to strike the Jersey threat right back if it came to that.

Mustering the small courage I had in me and having to force my fear-frozen legs to move, I ran from behind the counter towards the two men, putting my hands on their shoulders and praying to all deities that my presence would make them back off instead of turning me into a casualty of the upcoming brawl. “G-Gentlemen, please, don’t…” My voice was thin and desperate, reflecting the state of my mind as I tried to diffuse this situation to the best of my abilities, “There’s no need for any of this! Please, calm down!”

Luckily, they heard me well enough, and my guess is having to acknowledge the presence of a woman put a damper, however small, in their urge to clash. For a moment, our little group was completely silent except for the heavy breathing noises coming from the three of us - the two men furious like bulls about to strike, and me in terrified anxiety over the situation. They maintained a quiet staredown for what felt like forever, and I knew that if they were telepaths, the offenses they’d be mentally hurling at each other would contain curse words that could make a sailor blush. Then Kyley-B did something I didn’t even think he could physically do - he took a step back from a fight.

“Screw this noise,” he huffed, before turning his face to me again and making a gesture with his arm that beckoned me to accompany him somewhere, “Come on, can’t fucking talk in here without a shithead butting in.”

“W-What? Come on where?” My hands gestured desperately towards both my counter and the client in front of Kyley, who the redhead was now clearly ignoring as if he was nothing more than a decorative piece of the library, much to the other’s confusion, “I mean, I’m working right now!”

Before I could stop him, he walked back to the reception and reached over to the space of my desk, his hand clumsily scattering a bunch of the items on it before he could retrieve what he wanted - a small desk sign that just said ‘Be Back Soon’. He placed it firmly on top of the counter, the text facing him. “There. Now you ain’t.”

Kyley-B didn’t even allow me to put my shoes back on before he grabbed me by the wrist and started taking me away from the reception. I sent the other client one last apologetic look over my shoulder as Kyley dragged me, his sneakers louder than ever as he brought a barefooted me all the way to the farthest hallways of the library, down the always empty and slightly dusty Latin Literature section. His hand only loosened its hold when we stopped walking completely. Place was empty except for me, him and one of the trustworthy metal library carts, containing an assortment of books that needed to be delivered back into their proper shelves.

When he put both his hands in his pockets, I realized that now, away from the reception counter, I could see the lower half of his body. Even though he wore a belt, his acid wash denim jeans still hung a bit low on his hips - when his shirt shifted slightly, I could see the top of his boxers’ waistband peeking out. A look that normally would have given me pause when it came to a guy, but at that moment, what paused was my gaze, that I had to forcefully tear away from the region as I imagined what he looked like minus the outfit.

“Fucking finally. Can’t stand those hicks sticking their nose in business that ain’t theirs.” He spat, looking over his shoulder a bit towards the direction from which we came, like he was still trying to send his message to the other man who couldn’t even hear him anymore. 

“I guess...” I didn’t really want to continue dwelling on what just transpired; Kyley’s anger was still fresh - was it ever not? - and the last thing I wanted was for him to decide to head back and finally start what he was about to before I intervened. Besides, from our small interaction in the reception desk, I had learnt that he had a ‘not complete jerk’ side to him that was much more tolerable to be around.

“I swear, people in this town stress me the fuck out. Gahbage, all of them.“ He shook his head and with that, finally turned his face back to me - his expression was still intense, but at least he wasn’t completely pissed off anymore, and a hint of that cocky flirtatious grin had returned to his lips. “Well, not all. But enough about that bullshit. What do they call you around these parts?”

The way he asked for my name sounded weird to me, but I guess that’s the type of sentence someone’s got to use when their name is ‘Kyley-B’ and they refuse to be referred to as anything else. “I’m Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh? That’s hot.”

Of all the adjectives he could have chosen, he went for the one I had never seen used before to describe a name, especially mine. “What do you mean by that?”

Kyley frowned a bit in confusion. “I mean it’s hot, what of it?” The answer came with a dismissive shrug, as if it was obvious and I was dumb for even having something to question. “Your name is hot, you’re hot, there’s not much else to say.”

My mouth spoke before my mind could catch the words this time. “Well, that’s a surprise.”

His frown intensified and I put my hands over my lips, the mistake getting to me. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just, I’ve seen you around,” my brain cells worked themselves into overdrive trying to find a way to say it that didn’t sound accusatory, “With some girls, and…”

Lively laughter that almost seemed to rumble the books on the nearby shelves interrupted my train of thought. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Kyley ran his fingers through his own hair - it almost didn’t even move due to the sheer amount of hair gel. “Don’t ya worry about it, baby. I like the covered up look too. You’re really pretty.” 

He eyed me up and down slowly, still grinning, as if he truly appreciated what he saw. I looked down at myself as well, taking in my outfit - a loose-fitting blouse, a skirt that ended just barely above my knees, my bare feet that were earlier covered by a pair of flats. Miles away from the style of the women that I’d seen Kyley-B have in his arms - women who wore clothes with much less fabric, shoes with much higher heels, makeup with much more vibrant colors. Women that dressed like they wanted the attention, in the way that Kyley’s personality denounced the same thing.

Yet that Jersey man still looked at me like he wanted me in a much worse way than he’d want any of those girls, beyond just flirting for the hell of it or so he could add another number to his body count. And I was eating it up despite myself - having the undivided attention of Kyley-B in a somewhat private setting like this, instead of fighting other women for it at a club or something, was deliciously feeding into my ego, and it took everything in my mind for me to remind myself that this was my job and I was working and there is no way anything can happen and oh my lord his eyes are so gorgeous.

My eyes drifted to the floor, suddenly very interested in the nail polish on my toes and the small creases on Kyley’s Jordans. “Thank you…”

 “See? This is what I’m talking about.” One of his hands made its way to my chin, tilting it upwards just enough to bring my attention towards his face again.“That’s the fourth time you’ve thanked me now. Makes me wanna actually give you something to be thankful for.”

Now forced to look at him - honestly, I don’t know how ‘forced’ I really was, considering I made no attempt to dodge my head away from his hold -, the fire reddening my face was on full display for Kyley, a sight that made his smirk widen.

“There’s no need for that,” I murmured, though the little vain monster in my heart yearned for him to continue talking about me like that, to continue making me feel actually interesting, “It’s just… who I am.”

He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on mine. “Who you are? I wanna know all about that… Inside and out.”

My nervous hard swallow was audible. I was sure I could boil a kettle using only the heat radiating from me at that moment. His voice was dripping with desire; the double entendre almost making the air around us crackle with how charged it was. Despite my whole body presenting all my real feelings, my personality still clamored for some semblance of that decorum that Kyley-B was trying to make slip away. "I don’t know… I don’t think we should…”

“Why not?” This time, there was no anger in his voice as he questioned me; its volume had dropped lower, matching the ‘private’ nature of the conversation. “I’m into it, you’re into it, I don’t see the issue.”

I could’ve denied, said he understood everything wrong and I was just being polite, thanked him for his time and left that place with my decency intact. But I was always a very bad liar, and there was no denying the way my heart beated like a drum with his proximity, how my face got beet red just from our simple conversations, or the way I eagerly paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth.

Why was I feeling so drawn to his offer anyway? Was it the forbidden aspect of it all, the knowledge that I’d be going wild and letting loose while still maintaining the looks of a productive member of society? Did I internally enjoy the attention of someone who usually went for women that had nothing to do with me in either appearance or personality? Was the savior complex acting up again, the ‘I can change him’ mentality? All of the above would lead to the same outcome.

Another thing that really led me towards the path of surrendering to Kyley was the fact that, during all of this, he still hadn’t touched me in any way that was inherently sexual, despite all of his verbal advances. He was still waiting for my consent, exhibiting atypical patience, which made me believe he would’ve been okay even if I legitimately rejected him - the thing he couldn’t take was me hiding myself from the both of us, my attempts at masking my interest, and that’s why he was still pressing the issue. He wanted to take me, but he also had to make sure I wanted to be taken.

“Come on, baby… Talk to me…” His voice dropped even lower as he took the final step towards me, our bodies inches from each other now, “Wanna know what’s going on in that pretty little mind…”

The deep shuddering breath I took brought to me the smells of old books and some very strong cologne, the latter of which I could easily imagine on my pillow. “Need you…”

His hands grabbed both sides of my face and he pulled me into a fierce kiss, groaning into my mouth once we collided. His lips were surprisingly soft, likely due to a religious application of chapstick, but the kiss as a whole was still rough in a figurative sense; tough, possessive, everything that man was now being transferred to me through the clashing of our mouths, basically demanding me to respond in kind.

Which was something I didn’t even know I could do. I wasn’t necessarily a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I was all that seasoned, either. My years in university weren’t necessarily the great breeding ground for sexual experience that they seemed to be for everyone else - turns out all the other English majors were more interested in reading about steamy affection and whirlwind romances rather than actually living them. 

So that moment with Kyley-B, in the back of my workplace, was the first moment of my life I actually felt desired - like my whole presence did something for the man in front of me, something he couldn’t ignore. And I found myself in equal measure wanting him as well, entranced by his untamed nature, like a tiny wild side of me I didn’t even know existed was slowly coming to life now that he was close enough.

We needed to have each other. So, letting my last sliver of rational thought become dust and settle on the books in the shelves around us, I kissed him back, my hands resting on his shoulders and gently bringing him even closer. Kyley’s hands tightened around my waist and he pushed me backwards until I felt my ass lightly hit the library cart, hearing the faint squeak of the wheels as they moved a bit from the slight impact. His tongue led mine in a sensual dance, one that I initially didn’t know the moves to, but that quickly became second nature under his expert tutoring. His hips pressed against me and I was a bit glad to notice he was clearly affected too, seeking whatever friction he could get by grinding his bulge against my lower abdomen. 

Both of us had our chests heaving heavily when we pulled back in need of air, and that’s when I realized my whole body was trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Please…” was all I could manage to say, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for; for Kyley-B to calm down, to keep going, to do more, to bring me somewhere else or take me right there. Just whatever it was that would calm down the heat on my lower abdomen, since I knew only he could take care of that now.

“You really know your magic words, what a good girl,” Kyley murmured with his mouth still inches from mine, his words teasing, but with an undertone of praise. One of his hands slowly drifted down from my waist, pulling up the fabric of my skirt a bit just so it could slide under, a feather-light touch making its way towards my inner thighs until it settled right over my clothed pussy - the material already thoroughly damp from just his previous contact.

Two of his fingers traced my slit over my panties before they stopped right on top of my clit, applying slight pressure to it before rubbing tight firm circles over it, the fabric of my underwear providing even more friction against my extra sensitive bundle of nerves. My teeth dug into my lower lip as I stifled my whimpers, squirming quietly under Kyley’s teasing moves.

“You’re real wet, ya know that?” He moved his head so that he could whisper in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. The tip of his tongue then slowly traced the outline of my ear, a seductive gesture that sent goosebumps through my whole body. “Love to see it. Basically dripping for me.”

His digits moved back lower between my thighs, tracing me yet again, but the pressure on my clit wasn’t missed for long, as his palm was now flat against it, applying a bit of pressure and moving just barely to still keep me sensitive. He pushed my very damp panties to the side, a finger now circling my entrance, the small wet sounds it made almost deafening to me, proving Kyley’s previous claim without a doubt.

When he pushed his index in, I grabbed hard on the library cart handle, making it rattle a bit with the sudden movement. My breath hitched with the sudden intrusion, and Kyley chuckled in satisfaction, his face lowering to my neck. The pleasurable pain of the bites he started to place on the sensitive skin came in tandem with his middle finger also plunging inside of me, all the way to the last knuckle.

Kyley-B wasted no time before curling his fingers in a come hither motion, pumping them in and out with a type of strength that made my whole body shake with each push inward. My hips moved towards his palm in sync with his ministrations, subconsciously trying to get extra friction on my clit. 

Despite never having seen me before, it was like he had a complete map of my body in his mind. He knew exactly what to do at all times to make me feel good, and handled my body with a type of care that I would never expect from the likes of him. My worries about his nature or his intentions were gone with the wind; he could be whoever he wanted, as long as he’d continue laying his passion on all the neglected erotic parts of both my body and spirit. Soon my nails started making scraping noises against the metal of the handle, like I wasn’t just holding on to it, but also to the last little bit of my sanity before Kyley-B would kick me right into the deepest ends of pleasure.

Then suddenly, it stopped. His fingers withdrew from me and he took them to his mouth, cleaning my whole arousal out of those digits as he sucked on them. Not saying a word, he then used both of his hands to hike up my skirt completely so that it would be bunched up on my waist, immediately pressing his body against me again while his fingers drifted to the side of my panties. With a fierce tug that would’ve made me lose balance if not for his presence, he tore the damp fabric clean off, dropping it on the floor near our feet.

“What… Why did you…” I stuttered a bit as I looked up at him with my mouth hanging slightly open, looking every bit needy and desperate for him, absolutely pathetic in my yearning for the touch of that man.

His response came as a series of quick yet sensual kisses, the last one prolonged by the soft pulling of my bottom lip between his teeth. “Think we’re both gonna like it a lot more if you cum on my cock, baby,” he cooed, “And ya want it too, right? Don’t think you’d want to come all the way here just to get two fingers in.”

My head moved in a meek nod. My brain would’ve normally scolded me for agreeing so easily to words like these, so overtly sexually charged, but I couldn’t exactly lie to Kyley, either. I wanted him to fill me up. Taking in my agreement, he pulled back just a bit so he could make quick work of the belt and buttons in his jeans and pulled both them and his boxers slightly down, just enough for his cock to spring free. 

A lot of times, when people see feisty men with boisterous personalities, they like to say that those men are compensating for a lack of something. Kyley-B absolutely was not. He had the inches and the girth to back up every single aggressive display and explicit word that left his mouth. I pressed my thighs together, both in a gesture of fear for my poor pussy and also as a way to create some sort of pressure in the area that could calm me down until he would finally give it all to me.

My light squirming did not go unnoticed by his ever observant olive eyes. For all his violent behavior, he was still a really sharp individual. “You can take it,” he stated in a way that left no room for questioning, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Kyley took my lips back in his as his hands then moved from my waist to my ass, the unfamiliar sensation making me gasp against his mouth. He kneaded the soft flesh a bit, feeling it around. Then, without warning, both his hands delivered hard smacks to each side of my bottom, and I broke the kiss with a loud high-pitched yelp - the sounds almost echoed in the quiet library. He immediately started rubbing circles with his palms on the areas he slapped, as if trying to soothe them, contented groans rumbling in his chest. His next sentence came as an order. “Turn around. Need to feel this ass on me.”

I spun 180 degrees on my feet without a second thought and he pushed my back unceremoniously, making me bend over the library cart in front of me before shoving my head down towards it so that my back would be even lower and my ass would be in a more prominent position. My face landed on its side on one of the books that I was supposed to put back in place - Don Quixote. I had the feeling that by the end of my encounter with Kyley-B I too would be crazy enough to fight windmills.

I could only hear the noises his shoes made as he settled properly behind me, the hand he had used to shove me now placed at my back, putting slight pressure to keep me bent. He held his cock with the other one, giving a few light taps with it on my ass, and I just knew his gaze was burning into me as he watched the soft flesh jiggle a bit. When he positioned himself to start dragging the head across my slit, gathering up my already plentiful arousal and spreading it around even more, I whined and bucked back a little with my hips, the library cart under me rolling a bit as well. 

Immediately the hand that had been resting on my back moved to my ass and grabbed it fiercely. “Damn desperate for my cock, are ya, baby?” I could almost hear the smirk in his lips as he said those words, “Don’t worry, Imma give it to ya… And you ain’t even gonna need to thank me for it…”

Fortunately Kyley-B did not make me wait much longer after that. He was all about that instant gratification, and my submissive behaviour fed right into it. He traced my slit a few more times with the tip of his cock before pushing it fully inside of me in one swift motion, taking advantage of my wetness buildup. 

Another yelp from deep within my throat, this time accompanied by a deep grunt from Kyley-B’s. Both his hands grabbed my hips with such ferocity it felt like he was trying to get his fingers to break through my skin - but he’d have to settle for them just leaving a couple bruises. The stinging sensation deep in my walls as they stretched around his cock was like nothing I had ever felt before; worse than it felt when I lost my virginity, yet it was better, as in, actually good. I took a deep breath, hoping the air coming inside my lungs might help ease the burning somehow.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Kyley-B grunted behind me, his tone of voice faltering for a moment, becoming less brutish than usual - he was lost in the feeling of being inside me just as much as I was on the feeling of taking him. “Gonna end up ruining ya… If I’m not careful…”

He already had.

His grip steadied on my hips as he pulled away from me, before slamming all the way back in, giving me no time to calm down as he quickly settled into a steady pace, each thrust burying his cock to the hilt inside of my cunt. He was so big I could feel his tip hitting my cervix, constant jolts of pain coursing through my lower abdomen with each hit - yet I didn’t feel any urge to bring myself away from it or make it stop. It was the best pain I had ever felt in my life, which is a sentence I never thought I’d put together. 

Before I knew it I was letting out loud pleasure whines, my perception of the environment around me slowly being lost. Kyley still seemed to maintain his for a bit, though - to stifle my noises, he quickly shoved his index and middle finger inside of my mouth, almost all the way to the third knuckle. As if on cue, I started sucking on those digits and swirling my tongue around them like it was second nature.

“Fuck, girl,” he groaned with a husky voice, “If ya pussy wasn’t this fuckin’ good I’d be using my cock on this great tongue ya got instead.”

His other hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it with reasonable strength, making me gasp and bringing my head up - my mouth opened wider and I could now taste the brass of his fake rings on my tongue as he pushed his fingers all the way inside, having the surprising care of positioning them in such a way that they wouldn’t make me gag, while I continued to work on them.

He didn’t keep my noises muffled like this for long. Soon he seemed to realize it was of no use and we were already loud anyway; so he let go of my hair and my face immediately fell forward, his fingers leaving my mouth with a wet noise and slight pain to me as his rings clumsily hit my teeth from the sudden movement. His hands slapped both sides of my ass again and I yelled with full force of my lungs - now that I was free to make noise, he seemed interested in testing my ability of it, and I could swear the squelching noises my pussy made with each of his thrusts became louder as he sped up a bit.

With each potent snap of his hips against my ass, my whole body would jerk forward and cause the library cart to hit the tall wooden bookshelf right in front of me, shaking the whole thing up and making it bang against the wall behind it. Heavy hardcover books rained from the shelves, hitting the parquet floor with loud thuds.

Completely immersed in the pleasure the Jersey man was giving me, I failed to notice the danger I was in, of a book striking my head and knocking me out cold. I only realized that situation when all of a sudden Kyley-B had the whole weight of his upper body against my back, his harsh breathing on my neck sending shivers down my spine while his arm moved at the speed of light to backhand a falling book out of its path towards our bodies, sending it flying a few feet away like it was nothing. He hissed between his teeth, likely from the pain of the smack, but didn’t voice any complaints besides that, his pounding against me not faltering for even a second.

I adored the new sensation. Though I was almost fully trapped against the library cart, him leaning on top of me like this was strangely comforting, seeing all of that oppressive strength being used for my protection. Kyley-B clearly took care of what was his, and at that moment, that’s exactly what I was.

Best as I could, I sneaked one of my arms over my shoulder, my hand clumsily grabbing a fistful of his gelled up hair. He grunted roughly against my neck, apparently not used to being touched like that - maybe it was usually the other way around - but making no move to stop my awkward attempt at a caress either. His thrusts slowed a bit as he stayed like this for a moment or two, before he straightened his posture back up with his chest away from my back and gave my ass another slap, picking up speed again - maybe that was his way of taking for himself the smallest bit of control over the situation I held for a bit. 

Not that I minded. Him taking charge was all that I wanted at that moment. Not a single useful thought graced my brain while he fucked me senseless, all of my neurons hyper-aware of how his cock felt when it pushed against the most sensitive spots inside of me and not much else. Everything was Kyley-B, the world around us irrelevant, merely a void environment that could absorb all of my moans and screams of pleasure, as well as the squelching and slapping noises of his thrusts, with no repercussion. Even the swear words he grunted every so often now sounded like music to me; because it came from a place of intense pleasure, which I was giving him, so he could curse as much as he wanted near me as long as he’d do it in that lascivious tone.

Kyley’s thrusts became even quicker and more erratic, as if he couldn’t bear to have a single inch of himself not buried inside of me for any amount of time. He bullied my walls and my cervix with wild abandon, and I felt myself tensing up under his chest, my toes curling against the hardwood floor as my body braced for the impact of the release that his cock was about to give to me. 

He noticed the physical aspects of my buildup and a hoarse chuckle cut through the sounds of his hips slapping against me. “Gonna cum for me now, are ya, babe?” He murmured huskily, giving the lightest of taps to my ass, an action that felt weirdly reassuring. “Told ya it was gonna be better with my cock… Go on, let me see ya…”

My eyes rolled almost to the back of my head and I let out a cry that made my whole throat quiver as the most intense orgasm of my life crashed on me like a tsunami, my spine arching and making my upper body press even more against the cart under me. While I whimpered and trembled through the ripples of pleasure in my system, Kyley-B grabbed my hair again, pulling my head back some more as he used the newfound reins to jackhammer into me with my cunt clamping fiercely against his cock, trying to make it a permanent attachment to my body - a very smart decision on its part, really.

Despite riding my climax out to the fullest, I did not get any time to catch my breath - Kyley-B’s attack on my walls had already started to cross the line into overstimulation, making me whimper from the continuing massage on the extra sensitive region, before he suddenly withdrew from me. Although I already had way too much everything considered, that action surprisingly made me legitimately angry for half a second - I missed him inside of me. His breathing shook and faltered while thick jets spilled over my ass and lower back, his seed warm against my skin.

As he came down from his high and his breathing became more steady, I heard him reach inside of his pocket again, then felt the slightly rough sensation of lace being rubbed against me - he was cleaning up his release with the very same panties he tore away. Seemed thorough about it, too, as he took his time and by the end of it I didn’t feel sticky anymore. Yet, the knowledge of what we did had painted my body forever, the warm sensation still very much psychologically present, even if I was physically ‘clean’.

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him stuff the panties in his pocket. The normal confusion I’d exhibit if seeing such an act did not grace my features, either because I was too fucked out to care or because I actually liked it.

He tucked his softening cock back inside of his boxers and closed the buttons and belt on his jeans before leaning towards me again, this time to put his nose to the side of my neck, inhaling my scent sharply while his arms wrapped around my waist.

”Did so fucking well for me, baby. You were so damn good.” Kyley-B whispered against my skin, his voice once more taking that less rowdy tone I heard earlier. Hearing it again, in a full sentence this time, sent shivers down my spine - different shivers from the ones that had coursed through my body earlier. Like I could catch a glimpse of the man behind the fake tan. He made sure to leave one tiny nip at my skin before pressing a kiss right on top of that region - a surprisingly soft kiss, like he was now trying to be careful with me.

He stayed like this for a little more before straightening up again and letting go of my body, giving my ass one last playful slap, chuckling as he watched it jiggle. “You’re the real deal, Y/N,” the Jersey playboy voice was back at full force, “Let’s go out sometime. I’ll call you.”

Which was a weird thing to say, considering I hadn’t given him my number at all, but for some reason I just knew that was the least of his problems. He knew where I worked. He’d find a way, and I’d give him as much direction as I could for that.

As soon as I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, my knees gave in, and I fell right on them, letting the library cart hit the now much less packed bookcase a final time. My hands clung to the side of it with what little strength I had in my body, that still felt like it was made of jelly. I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, the exhaustion from the unfamiliar ‘exercise’ getting to me. Dozens of books laid around me on the floor, waiting to be put back in their places, but I decided to just make that a problem for future me, instead choosing to let my muscles catch a break.

When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to return, alone, to the reception desk, I realized I was in deep shit. Every single set of eyes in the location turned to me, wide and horrified; apparently, the whole time I was with Kyley-B back there, my clients at the library were frozen in place listening to the whole thing. I tried to avoid my shame by looking elsewhere, but then my eyes rested on a decorative piece of mirrored glass at the wall; I could now see myself clearly. My hair was messed up beyond belief from all of Kyley-B’s pulling, my whole makeup was smudged - with special attention to the huge pink blur of lipstick around my very kiss-swollen lips -, my shirt was creased everywhere. Not to mention that now my underwear was hanging out in a New Jersey man’s pocket, leaving me totally commando. And I had a few more hours of my shift ahead of me.

It didn’t affect me as much as it should.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Surprisingly enough, I did not get fired from my job after that. My guess was they knew they couldn’t find anyone else who could put up with the extra work that had nothing to do with my appointed position, not for the money I was paid. So I got to stay.

What did happen was the influx of people at the library augmented significantly. This did not mean a proportional increase in the number of books checked out, however - it just meant way too many people were suddenly interested in Latin Literature, and my workplace became a lot noisier.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[hannahbarberra162]

Heat Transfer, Chapter 5

MDNI, on Ao3

The other chapters

Ace POV

Ace squinted up at the overhead sun to realize it had become afternoon. Hours passed as if they were minutes and slipped away from him as it often happened while he worked. His stomach rumbled in protest of being forgotten so he headed to the galley to try and sneak some bites of dinner before it was ready. He had about a one in three chance of getting away with it if Thatch was in the kitchen but it would be worth the effort if he could get something for…

Ace’s train of thought trailed off as he realized he hadn’t seen Baby in hours. She wasn’t on the deck sunning herself and he didn’t see her wrapped around Pop’s shoulders. He hoped she wasn’t swimming alone because Namur said he’d let Ace know if you went together. Ace didn’t think you’d slip away to swim by herself, she’d learned not to do that. She wouldn’t be with Fossa since he was off on a day mission and left early that morning. So where could she be?

Ace walked briskly to search for you and passed Marco along his way to the door leading to the kitchens. The doctor was reading and marking some papers but looked up when he saw Ace.

“Oh, Ace. I was able to synthesize the antidote to Baby’s venom based on the recipe from that book, so we’re all set yoi. It should work but I’d prefer if we didn’t have to test it out,” the Commander said wryly. Ace furrowed his brow and reached out to stop his brother from walking any further.

“What do you mean you synthesized it?” Ace questioned while pushing his hat off his head to his back.

“It’s a complex process but it’s actually quite interesting yoi. First I collected her venom and put it in the centrifuge - ” Marco started with a smile, surprised Ace was interested in the science behind the antidote.

“No, Marco. Like, what do you mean you took her venom,” Ace said while crossing his arms across his chest. Marco blinked at his brother in confusion.

“Just what I said, I took her venom. I put her in the crate afterward, she’s still in there -” Marco stopped talking as Ace stared at him incredulously.

“Marco, what the fuck?” the younger man demanded. Marco cocked an eyebrow at Ace, unfamiliar with the attitude being directed his way. 

“What do you mean? I told you I was going to take her venom so I did yoi. Next time I’ll ask your permission,” Marco huffed before turning to leave.

“No, you don’t need my permission. You need hers,” Ace said, grabbing Marco by the arm. It wasn’t a punch or even a push but the aggressive movement had its intended effect. Marco pulled himself from slouching to his full height, towering over Ace. Ace refused to be intimidated by him and didn’t budge an inch when he met Marco’s hard stare. He could only imagine how scared Baby had felt being cornered by Marco and locked away for hours in his cabin.

“No, I don’t. I’m in charge -”

“You don’t outrank me, it’s not your call! You can’t just do that to her!” Ace yelled at Marco, throwing his hands wide in anger when he released the doctor’s arm.

“It’s true I don’t yoi. But I am responsible for the safety of the crew and that doesn’t include letting sea snakes roam freely about the ship. She already bit Thatch -”

“She was scared! She didn’t -”

“Twice. No one can communicate with her, she doesn’t speak any human language. She’s feral and has been in the wild for years. She’s basically your pet -”

“She’s not a pet! She’s a person!” Ace’s voice grew increasingly louder as he continued to yell, bringing ever more attention to the row he was having with Marco.

“She’s not, she’s not even human,” Marco said with finality, uninterested in arguing with Ace any longer. 

“Am I not a person Marco?” Namur asked calmly from the side of the deck. Marco inhaled deeply as he saw the crew gathered around like the gossip mongers they were. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Marco sighed again.

“That’s not what I meant yoi. Of course, you’re a person, Namur. You’re my brother. I’m just saying that Baby isn’t the same, she’s -”

“Sea Naga are known to have their own society, speak and write their own language, craft and use tools, and are capable of interacting with the outside world. She’s learning words and using them correctly at an incredible rate. Baby has learned the norms of the ship and crew, including non-lethal combat for entertainment. How is she not a person? How is she different from me?” Namur continued calmly, his words casually skewering Marco on the spot. Ace was able to release a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as a sense of relief washed over him. He wasn’t good at arguing or getting his words right but Namur had said everything he had been thinking. Baby wasn’t some animal like Stefan who needed to be taken care of - she was clearly capable of learning and independent thinking. The more time he spent with her the more obvious it became that she wasn’t a child but a grown adult Sea Naga. She was on the smaller side but he wasn’t one to talk. He was only one hundred and eighty five centimeters and his father was two hundred and seventy five centimeters, Luffy was even shorter than Ace, and Gramps was the tallest at two hundred and eighty seven centimeters. Sometimes things just worked out that way.

“I’m not getting into a semantic argument. Until she can communicate, she can’t be alone on the ship. It’s not safe for anyone,” Marco said with a huff, before shifting into his phoenix form and taking off into the sky. They must have really bothered him since Marco only did that when he was too annoyed to talk to anyone. The papers he had been studying before the argument wafted in the wind and Ace spent a few moments collecting them. He’d return them to Marco once they’d both cooled down a little.

“Thanks for helping,” Ace said, clapping Namur on the shoulder while holding the stack of papers in the other hand. The fishman shrugged and smiled in return. 

“Marco doesn’t mean it. He gets up his own ass about safety and keeping the crew from harm. He’ll come around,” Namur said before taking his leave from Ace. Ace wasn’t so sure - there was something between Marco and Baby and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. 

Ace quickly headed to his room, already anticipating her being upset before he opened the door. Turning the handle and pushing the door open revealed a sad looking Baby curled up in the furthest corner of the locked crate. There was some jerky at the front of the crate that hadn’t been touched - probably from Marco. Walking swiftly over to the opposing wall, he took the keys off the hook and unlocked the crate. She watched him with mournful eyes but didn’t exit the crate like Ace had hoped. 

“Baby, come out,” Ace’s voice was as soft as he could make it while he pleaded with her, holding his arms wide open. Baby looked around while flicking her tongue, likely trying to sense if Marco was around. She may have smelled him on Ace or the papers still in his hand because she shook her head with a small movement and stayed where she was. Ace’s heart was as broken as Baby’s spirit - he had to fix the situation somehow. Looking around, he saw a pencil on the top of his desk and grabbed it. He pushed his way into the crate to join a very surprised Baby.

Sitting cross legged in the small crate, Ace was using Baby’s curled body as a kind of living lounger. Baby tried to move backwards to maintain more space between them but the close quarters of the crate didn’t allow for it. Sighing, she shifted her long tail until it was wrapped around Ace’s body and he heated himself warmer in response. He was now sitting with his back against her torso while she leaned down, her head resting on his shoulder. 

Ace drew a rough stick figure drawing on the back of one of Marco’s papers using the pencil. Drawing wasn’t his strong suit but he thought it was passable enough to understand the meaning. Pointing to it, he said his name and wrote it above the figure. Baby watched as he then drew a stick person with a tail instead of legs. 

“Baby,” he said while pointing to the sea naga figure. She nodded and gently plucked the pencil from his hands. In the featureless circle of the naga face, she drew a frown. Baby continued to draw as she deftly drew a human figure with wings and bird feet, which Ace figured was Marco.

“Marco,” Ace said, pointing to the winged figure. She was much better than Ace at drawing which was yet another skill highlighting her intelligence.

“Marco,” Baby repeated solemnly. Flipping to the next page, she then drew Marco picking up the sea naga in his talons with his mouth open. She drew large pointy teeth in Marco’s face and his tongue hanging out like she was a meal. Ah, So Marco had been right - you thought Marco was going to eat you. As he turned around, Ace looked at her furrowed brow and worried eyes.

“No, no. Marco’s not going to eat you,” Ace tried explaining. He was thinking of a way to explain what Marco was when he felt her nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He reached behind and rubbed Baby’s head, his fingers working in slow circles to comfort her further.

Baby’s POV

You were pleased you finally found a way to communicate your fears to Ace as he pressed his body close to yours in the cage. You had been taken aback at him crawling in with you as you didn’t think the jailer usually joined the prisoners. But you ended up welcoming his presence with open arms and an unwrapped tail like always. He was deliciously warm, kept you well fed, and had some kind of positive feelings toward you. When he smiled at you a strange sensation hit your chest but you couldn’t identify what it was. It was like being double happy but only because of him. Maybe you were getting sick - though your Naga side should have taken care of any human ailments. 

Either way, you put your face closer to his neck, enjoying the warmth and smell of his skin. He reached back and pet you but in a different way than before. It made you want to lean into his hand and maybe even put your arms around him. Despite his strange uniform skin tone, short stubby tongue, useless ears, and dull teeth, he was pleasant looking. Different and unusual but overall rather easy on the eyes. You’d mull over his positive qualities later, right now you were busy trying to express yourself to him.

He kept repeating the phrase “Marco no eat Baby” over and over. You were skeptical but maybe Ace could protect you from the Har - Marco. Marco was clearly in a position of leadership in some capacity but Ace was too, judging by how the other humans treated him. You weren’t sure of the exact power dynamic between them but Ace might be able to help you. You humphed but didn’t say anything further about the Harpy.

Another idea popped into your head to try and explain your situation to Ace. Flipping to another blank paper, you drew three snake like figures and the one he had used for you previously. Above your sister’s figures, you drew two more Sea Naga while above your own you drew one Sea Naga and one human. 

“Brothers,” you said while pointing to the crude images of your sisters. You didn’t really know what the word for sisters was in human but you’d heard the crew calling each other something you thought was similar. You suspected it was in the general vicinity of the word you wanted and Ace studied the drawing as you continued your attempt to explain your parentage. 

“Brothers, Pops,” you tried to explain using the few words you’d heard on the deck. You wanted to tell him that you were half human, maybe the Harpy wouldn’t want you then if it knew you weren’t going to get much bigger.

“Baby,” you said, pointing to your own figure. “Pops,” you said pointing to the human above you. You didn’t know the words for sire and mother but Ace seemed to be understanding you with the words you knew. He was talking to you and asking you questions probably related to your human side. Even if you had been able to understand him you didn’t have any answers for him. You didn’t know who your sire was and you had never met your mother. All you knew were your sisters and…you should probably warn Ace they’d want to find you. 

“Brothers, Baby,” you said, pointing to the Sea Naga again. He looked at you with confusion written across his speckled face as he spoke to you, using your name and “brothers.” It was frustrating not being able to express yourself freely; you wanted to learn more human language so you could finally tell Ace what you wanted to say. You groaned and this time you did wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your front closer to his back. Whatever, you’d have to learn more human and then you’d be able to tell him what you needed.

Ace put his hands on your forearms in a show of comfort. You hadn’t had much physical contact over the course of your life, your sisters only touched you when you asked so you cherished the feeling of spontaneous touch. You didn’t want the moment to end but your wish was denied when Ace gently pried the papers from your hand and folded them up. He crawled out of the cage before he extended his hand to you once again. This time you did leave the cage even as the scent of the Har - Marco -  lingered in the air. You followed Ace out of the room and back onto the top of the ship where you could enjoy the afternoon sunshine.

Your stomach’s grumbling told you that some time had passed since Marco had put you in the cage. You didn’t trust the meat that he’d left in your cage in case it was poisoned. Flicking your tongue out to taste the air you sought the scent of the Meatman and left Ace to talk with the other humans. In the open air, it was difficult to catch some weaker scents but you found his tantalizing odor. After slithering over to him you waited expectantly as he finished serving Pops. He inclined his head as you blinked up at him. He pulled his arms closer to his body but gave you a bright smile.

“Er, hi Baby!” he said, holding a platter under his arm. 

“Hi. Eat meat? Eat egg? Eat fisssh?” you asked with a happy hiss, thumping the tip of your tail against the deck. You’d be more than happy to go fishing for him if he cooked the food for you. 

“Oh, you’re hungry! Not a problem, I’ll get you something. Come with me,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him. Ace’s head perked up as he heard Meatman talk and started following you. The cook was annoyed and yelled something you didn’t understand at Ace but Ace laughed and continued trailing behind you. Ace’s laugh made you have that funny feeling twist your stomach again but this time you wished you had been the one to make him laugh. Curious. 

Ace said something to Meatman after pointing at you with his thumb. The cook turned around and gave you another smile. 

“Thatch,” he said, pointing to himself. 

“Sssash,” you said, trying to repeat the name. “Sssaash. Ssash. Sash,” you tried a few times but got no closer to the way he’d said it. “Sash,” you repeated for the final time. He smiled at you encouragingly like he’d still feed you even if you couldn’t say his name right.

“Great job, Baby!” Thatch exclaimed, clapping you on the shoulder. This human was more smiley and touchy than any other you’d met but you’d tolerate it for more eggs.

A half hour and many shanks of meat later, you and Ace were snoozing in a pile in the shade of the deck. The speed at which Ace ate was impressive especially because he couldn’t unhinge his jaw and devour food whole like you could. He’d eaten more than you and had fallen asleep over his plate towards the end of the meal. Your head nodded downwards too as you felt the familiar drowsiness that followed a good meal creep over you . On your island, you preferred to eat in your cave so that if you fell asleep you were protected.

A bright flash of light like a lightning strike and Thatch’s loud laugh startled you awake suddenly. You reared back instantly, your mouth already open to attack whatever predator was at hand. Thatch got into a defensive position but you held back when you saw it was just a snail in his hands. You grumbled and dragged the sleeping Ace away from the flash back outside into the open air as Thatch laughed again. He was lucky his food was so tasty otherwise you would risk Marco’s ire again to bite him again.

Once on the deck you and Ace continued to snooze for a while as you soaked up his heat along with the afternoon sun. Ace woke with a start and roused you in the process. He blinked rapidly as he took stock of his situation but didn’t seem surprised he’d ended up on the deck outside. It wasn’t good that he fell asleep immediately after eating, you thought. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to wake up easily which you knew because you’d dropped him a few times while lugging him to the deck. If he was in a dangerous place it would leave him vulnerable as you found yourself curling around him protectively at the thought. He might be a strange fire human but you didn’t want him hurt. He yawned and stretched before laying his arms across your tail like you were a chair.

“Whassup Baby? I fell asleep huh,” he asked, his eyes still half lidded and his voice somehow deeper. The scratchy sound made an odd tingle erupt in your chest and you quelled the urge to curl around him even further. 

“Swim?” you asked hopefully, using the word Namur had taught you the previous day. Ace rubbed his chin in thought. He did some kind of work during the days but you were eager to go swimming again. You thumped the end of your tail repeatedly on the wood because of your excitement, your ears twitching in anticipation. Ace smiled lazily at you and you knew you’d won him over.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Ace’s POV

Ace practically flew Striker through the water while Baby followed at a fast clip. She was carrying a metal spear that Fossa had given her, the aerodynamic shape allowing her to bring it along with ease. Ace had been surprised by the gift from Fossa, the large Commander grunting and handing the spear to Baby without a word after he’d returned from his short mission. Her eyes went wide as she took the spear from Fossa, her forked tongue flicking faster than he’d ever seen it. She had threw it from hand to hand, testing out the weight and balance of the weapon. It reminded Ace of the pointed sticks in her cave but he hadn’t thought to bring any. She slithered up to Fossa’s shoulders, hugging his huge head to her chest.

“Uh, do you think we should give her some lessons or -” Ace’s question was cut off as Baby threw the spear into the ocean from Fossa’s shoulders, stabbing a cloud fish through its head. Fossa grunted again and pat Baby on her head. Baby nipped at him affectionately before climbing down and heading towards the railing. 

“Go swim?” Baby asked, her eyes trained only on the fish flopping and floundering in the water.

“Yeah, go swim,” Ace said with a dismissive wave. Ace turned to Fossa, who was watching Baby jump off the railing and into the water while relighting his cigar. He was feeling the sting of jealousy but he reigned his feelings in. Fossa was being thoughtful and sweet and it was refreshing after so many years of a gruff and distant attitude. 

“How’d you know she could use a spear?” Ace asked. He would have made her one himself if he had known she could wield it. 

“Cap’n’s not the only one who saw that Naga years ago. That’s the weapon she had with ‘er. ‘S how I got my scar,” he said, pointing to the jagged line in his forehead. Ace soaked up the information the Commander had freely shared. It had been unknown how he got it and newer recruits were too afraid to ask. Now Ace would have something up his sleeve for family trivia night competitions. 

Baby’s hopeful wide eyes and thumping little tail had won Ace over quickly as he forgot about the mountains of paperwork he had to complete. She was already taking her spear out of the fish and twirling the staff around happily in the sea. He scrambled down to Striker, ready to have some fun with his Baby.

Baby’s POV

The spear Fossa had made you was absolutely perfect. It wasn’t made from an underwater volcano like they traditionally were, but the staff was almost an exact replica of the ones your sisters wielded. It made you feel powerful, like a warrior of the sea, even if you were just a miniature version of one. You swam in the ocean as Ace used his fire-boat to sail on top of the water. It was a shame he couldn’t swim, you wished he could view the beauty of the ocean as it was meant to be seen. Regardless it was fun popping up now and again, bringing him fish for Thatch to cook later or small items you’d found floating in the water. 

You were having a great time when the fire-boat stilled on the surface of the sea. Curious, you breached and saw Ace monitoring something on the horizon. He beckoned you over to his little boat and you hung your arms over the side of the ship. 

“Marines,” he told you, pointing to the ship. “Bad,” he continued. He was standing with one leg up on the seat of the ship, his fist flickering with flames. Oh, you thought, there was going to be a fight. Your blood started pumping as you hissed with excitement, your tail slapping the water.

“Baby go home,” Ace said, still keeping his eyes fixed on the ships in the distance. You snorted, figuring “home” meant the boat.

“Baby fight,” you replied, twirling your spear above the water. Even though you were on the small side, you were a Sea Naga at heart. You loved hunting, fighting, and killing plus based on the play fighting you did with the pirates you found that most humans weren’t very strong. Maybe some were like Ace but if you stayed in the water they wouldn’t be able to get to you. No human could compete with a Sea Naga in their element, you knew that for a fact. Ace wavered like before but the growing flames on his hand told you his decision.

“Baby strong. Baby fight,” you continued. He couldn’t actually make you go back home even if he wanted to but you also didn’t want him to worry about you during the fight. Based on the size of the ships they had fewer people than the Whale but you weren’t sure how many humans that would be. 

“Baby fight. Stay in water,” Ace finally agreed as he mimicked your broken way of communicating. He gave a wicked smile, mirroring the kind your sisters would have when they recounted an excellent battle. 

Ace POV

Normally he wouldn’t have let Baby get anywhere near a battle but…he’d let you convince him yet again. He’d heard about these three Marine ships, they’d sacked one of the subordinate Whitebeard islands close to the border a few months back. They would have to be dealt with one way or another, it might as well be here and now. He was itching for a fight - he wanted to show her that he was a capable protector. Besides, if Baby got scared or hurt she could go underwater and avoid combat until the fight was over. Ace thought it was a pretty good plan as he kicked Striker into high gear heading directly towards the Marine ships. 

Baby was pumped for battle too, outpacing Striker even as he made the boat go faster and faster. Ace watched as she swam gracefully in the water, like a lithe dancer soaring through the air. Reaching the ships in record time, Ace pulled Striker up short creating a spray of water in front of him. You dove deeper under the water and circled his boat, taking cues from him. 

“FIRE FIST ACE - SURRENDER NOW OR PREPARE FOR BATTLE,” one of the ships boomed out from their megaphone snail. Ace’s answer was only a chuckle as he tipped his hat back with one finger, hoping he looked cool in front of Baby. Baby was mildly interested in the ships as she watched them load their cannons.

“HIKEN!” Ace yelled while pushing his fist forward as a pillar of fire shot from his arm. The cannon of fire hit dead center in the middle of the nearest ship. As flames decimated the wood ship in front of them with screams punctuating the sound of the ship cracking apart in the middle, Ace happened to catch Baby’s reaction . Her eyes were the widest he’d ever seen with her long ears pointing down, and her mouth hanging open. She looked up at him from the water, still agog, so he gave her a finger gun. 

“Ace strong,” Baby remarked as she continued treading water and watching the utter destruction with admiration.  

“Heh, I know a thing or two,” Ace replied, before remembering you wouldn’t understand what he was saying. “Baby, go!” Ace said, pointing towards the ships. You let out a loud hiss, the high reverberation making goosebumps rise over his flesh. It reminded him of the sound a snake made when striking, already too late to avoid its attack. You dove under the water and swam rapidly towards the Marines who had fallen into the water off the sinking ship.

Unfortunately the battle wasn’t very satisfying. All the ships were destroyed in under ten minutes between his fire power and Baby doing whatever it was she did. Ace wasn’t sure exactly what she was up to but there was a lot of screaming coming from the water close to the ships. Marine ships were designed to fight against other large ships, not individual pirates. Most of the attacks they utilized were useless against an agile and powerful individual. Ace was able to destroy their ships with ease, giving the low ranking Marines time to abandon ship while those who were able to directly fight Ace fired guns and other useless weapons. Ace felt a little bad for the cannon-fodder Marines who hadn’t even been told that they would need haki to hurt his physical form. He didn’t want to kill more people than he had to so he didn’t attack the lifeboats as they paddled away from the wreckage.

Ace wanted to leave the scene of the battle but he had to find Baby before he could leave otherwise she wouldn’t find her way back to the Moby. He pushed Striker closer towards the decimated Marine ships where the screaming was the loudest. The water near the ships was tinged red with blood, a sight to which Ace had unfortunately become accustomed. 

“SHE’S BACK! THE SEA DEMON IS BACK!” one Marine shrieked, flailing in the water as the water churned around them. Sea demon? Maybe they’d never seen a Sea Naga before, but Baby wasn’t a demon. 

“Baby! Baby!” Ace called out as he searched the dark water. As he looked for any signs of Baby, a leg floated by, looking like it had been torn from the hip socket. Ace winced as more body parts drifted by while the screams of the dying sounded in the air. He was caught off guard when she suddenly pulled herself from the water to a sitting position on the side of the boat. Her hair was matted with blood as she happily chewed on the human entrails caught in her claws, the guts spilling down her front.

“B-baby, what the fuck?” Ace asked in a hushed voice and Baby looked at him with confusion.

“Baby eat meat?” she countered in an uncertain tone. Looking down at the intestines in her hands, she held out a portion to Ace.

“Ace eat meat?” she asked politely.

“Uh, no.” Ace said, his mind in chaos from the macabre scene. Marines were swimming away as fast as they could, some with blood trailing behind them, some with paralyzed arms and legs from her venom. She pouted but didn’t put the guts down. She raised her hands to bring them to her already open mouth slowly like Stefan when he wanted to eat something he shouldn’t. 

“Baby, no,” Ace said with a firm tone as she was about to take another bite. Baby scowled but then perked up.

“Sash?” Baby asked with a sudden hope for cooked guts bleeding into her tone.

“No, Thatch won’t cook that. Drop it, Baby,” Ace replied, shaking his head and Baby’s pout deepened in response. 

“Fish,” you said, pointing to yourself. “Eat fish,” you said, pointing to Ace. You did have a good point, he thought, they did eat fish and you were half sea creature yourself. But no, he couldn’t give in with everything. You’d gotten to swim and fight, you weren’t going to get to eat humans too.

“No, Baby. Let’s go home,” Ace declared. Baby looked wistfully at the Marines fleeing from her presence and threw the guts in the water petulantly, grumbling to herself in her native tongue. He didn’t need to speak Sea Naga to know she was cursing him out under her breath. 

Typha POV

Typha had come to visit her baby sister bearing many gifts. She had a productive month at sea, taking many treasures and killing numerous beasts. Swimming up to the island, Typha called out for the Guppy as she had done so many times before. The little Guppy did not appear promptly which was quite unusual for her. Typha flicked her massive tongue through the air, catching the very faint smell of fire - and humans. Searching the shoreline, Typha found evidence of a fire and revelry with several bottles left behind. Someone had been here.

Typha’s anger grew to match the storm she was named after once she saw the empty cave. The humans had taken their sister, possibly killed her, and ransacked her home. Typha noted that some of the previous presents she had given Baby were missing, taken as trophies. Typha wanted to destroy the cave with a lash of her giant tail but restrained herself as a thought dawned on her. Perhaps Baby was still alive and needed rescuing due to her puny size and inferior strength. They would need to move quickly to find and save her from certain death. 

Typha swam away from the island towards the sister’s lair. Though they kept Baby on a summer island, the three sisters preferred a subterranean cave as their living space. She would alert Maela and Tsuna to the situation. The blood of the humans who dared touch their sister would spill. 

[fisheito]

dante can swim, right? theres' no wauy the Royal Solarian Staff would let their king go his whole life not knowing such a lifesaving skill JUst cuz it's a desert doesn't mean there aren't pools!!! he has to know they HAD to have taught him there's no way he's stepping on a cruise ship surrounded by water while UNable to swim what if he falls in?!? he's not gonna float that's furr sure look at his muscle density and lack of fat the man's gonna sink like cement

[oliviadempseyart]

Puts a whole new meaning to blowing the bathroom up lol.

[nezuscribe]

(slightly suggestive)

another little drabble for arranged marriage!gojo but imagine a moment before he confessed but something was looming over the two of you. it was crossing the line of friends, not necessarily husband and wife, but two people desperately in love and didn't know how to say it.

you were in one of your late-night frenzies, your brain so muddled with every thought that you decided to do what you knew best: bake.

you often find yourself in this situation as of late, but it truly seems to be the only thing that helps. you wanted to tell gojo how you were feeling, but it was too far in, so you decided something simple and sugary would help you in the moment.

at this point, the walk to the kitchens was something you could do blind, and considering how many times you did this, you already knew where all the ingredients were.

you set out your sugar and flower, and go rummaging in the cold cellar for some butter and eggs. you try not to think about how at dinner gojo slid closer to you, your arms touching as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. or how a couple days ago he had found you in the library, reading next to a windowsill, cozying up next to you as he read the book over your shoulder.

you're so lost in your head with sifting the ingredients that you fail to realize that the very man himself had come up secretly behind you, curiously watching you in your element.

(he'd never admit that he'd first gone to your room, and only came down here after he realized you were gone).

but, unlike the last couple of times, you'd gotten used to his stealthy ways. he was quiet, sure, but you could recognize him by his slight breath alone, or the way he smelled faintly of cloves.

you try not to let your breathing hitch, or let a smile grow on your face as you decide to break the silence.

"if you try to scare me while i'm baking you better rethink your choices," you warn him and hear gojo snicker quietly behind you.

gojo moves from where he was standing, and he leans his back against the counter next to you, craning his neck to look over at your bowl.

your eyes dart to the side, to the way his arms are resting behind him as he balances himself back on them (or the way his arms bulge and veins pop).

"what's on your mind tonight?" gojo asks, knowing you only do this now whenever you're stressed out.

"not much," you mutter, despite wanting to say you, you're on my mind.

he tsks, not buying your lie as he leans in a little close, his head blocking your view of your mixing bowl as he tries to get a little taste with his fingers.

"hey!" you cry, smacking him lightly on the back of his neck, "your hands are all grimy!"

you watch as he peers at you from the corner of his eyes, glaring at your offensive remark as he retracts away, a small pout on his face as you grin in slight victory.

"my hands are clean," you hear him mumble petulantly and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his antics. the closer the two of you got, the more you found out that his closed-off and aloof demeanor was just a facade for a dramatic, grouchy man-child.

there's a comfortable silence for a moment, one where you're mixing and one where he watches you mix. you don't really notice the quiet anymore, just another added sound when you and gojo grow more comfortable together.

"how was your day?" he finally asks, a simple question, but you know he's using it as a mask to find out what was wrong with you.

"good," you say with a shrug, starting to gently fold in your wet mixture with your dry one, "you weren't at dinner so i was actually able to eat in peace," you add, trying to sound indifferent when really it's what spurred this entire thing on. how, when you realized that you missed seeing him, talking to him, being near him, you were really, really, missing him. and that's not how friends are supposed to act. or, at least, from what you've heard.

gojo smiles, a soft look on his face. you're trying to be sarcastic, he knows that, but there's something...deeper behind your words, something that he too feels.

"the eastern tribe took up more time than i thought they would," he explains, his blue eyes glowing when he notices the way you slightly relax, "i tried telling them that my wife was waiting for me, but apparently peace negotiations can't be postponed."

you bite your lips, trying to hold back your giddy smile at his words. you know he's probably teasing you, using the phrase my wife as a way to get out of a boring meeting, but you love it nonetheless.

he knows you do.

"those bastards," you murmur teasingly, hearing his loud laugh as he lightly shoves you with the point of his boot.

"yeah, well, they don't have wives back home," he crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips into a thin line, "so they don't know the feeling."

you swallow thickly, not looking over at him when he says that.

there's another silence as you continue to fold the batter, sensing that same feeling wash over the two of you.

"let me grab a..." you turn around, head craning to look for a spoon to dip in the batter, needing to make sure the sweetness wasn't too overbearing (and because you liked tasting the batter before it was sent off to be baked thoroughly), but stop when gojo pulls the bowl in closer to him.

you watch as he glides his finger across the sides, not letting it touch the actual bulk of the mixture, and brings it forth towards your lips.

his brows cock upwards, as if he was waiting for you to try it.

you give him a look, nose slightly wrinkled.

"i swear my hands are clean," he promises, crossing one hand over his chest as a sort of pledge, but that's not what holding you back, shouldn't he know that?

your mind is working to beat the thrill of your heart, the one that's pulling you towards him like a magnet, the one that desperately wants to have his finger in your mouth.

you bite your cheek for a second, eyes flickering up from his to his finger, and some sort of heat in you takes control as one hand gently grabs his wrist, pulling his hand closer to your parted lips.

your tongue darts out, your mouth closing over the digit as you taste the sugary batter coating your tongue. you feel dizzy, your stomach twisting, a heat taking over your body as your tongue swipes over it, licking it clean.

it's nothing overexaggerated, nothing too crazy. you lick his finger the way you'd like your own, but fuck, this isn't your own finger and gojo's looking at you with his pupils blown wide, the blacks overtaking the blue in his eyes.

your hand is still holding his wrist, your lips gliding over it as you pull away, breathing slightly less when you glance up at him.

gojo swallows thickly, hoping you don't see the bulge that's growing in his pants.

"good?" he chokes out, his voice thick in his throat.

"yeah," you mutter, the batter still lingering on your tastebuds, "it's perfect."

fuck, you're both screwed.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Dancing in the Courthouse

♥ masterlist | request rules | part of my 1k event

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: In 2021 you and oscar decided to elope due to your unpredictable schedules. now that you have more stability in your life, you were able to throw a dream wedding with the man you loved most in the world.

♥ smau + written - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: first fic apart of the 1k event!

-Paris, 2021-

The streets of Paris were bustling as you took a seat in your Uber. You could hear a Taylor Swift song playing faintly on the car's radio as you pulled out your phone.

You

hey osc I'm on my way back

Oscar checked the notification and panicked a little internally. He slipped the device back into his dress pants and shook his hands.

"Relax, tout ira bien," Estie assured Oscar. (translation: everything will be fine)

He sighed and turned towards the two French men, "Are you sure?"

All Pierre did was laugh.

"Call me when it's over," Pierre said with a smirk and guided Esteban out the door, into an elevator.

You were in France on a girls night out with your best friend Kika, whom you met through Formula 1. Little did the two of you know that Pierre and Esteban snuck over to your hotel room in order to help Oscar set up a surprise.

You tapped your keycard on your hotel door and called out your boyfriend's name. You set your purse down on a small marble table and kicked off your heels, making your way through the main room.

A small trail of pink rose petals guided you to the terrace causing your heartbeat to pick up.

Was this really happening?

You opened the glass doors to find more rose petals surrounding the floor and a very handsome Oscar. You strode over to him in complete shock until he grabbed your hands in his.

"Y/n you have been my best friend for as long as I can remember," he said as his thumb drew circles on one of your fingers. "You have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I could never imagine a life without you. I know we don't get to spend as much time together as we'd like to, but that is why I wanted to do this today."

He slowly got down on one knee in front of you and pulled out a black velvet box to reveal a silver ring.

"Will you marry me?"

You squatted down to his height and mumbled, "Is that even a question?"

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him gently, "Yes of course I will."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-July 4, 2024-

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lilymhe, and 300,572 more

ynln london girl

📸 creds: @/oscarpiastri

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user1 lmao the oscar picture creds

oscarpiastri I risked my life for that first pic

ynln @/oscarpiastri you were on another balcony?

user3 if anyone risked their life for that picture it's Alex

user2 speaking of alex she looks SO pretty there

carlossainz55 red nails for ferrari

ynln anything for you carlitos 😽

iamrebeccad so so true and real

user4 pretties

user9 lets all manifest an oscar win for this weekend

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri, hattiepiastri, and 1,481,583 more

ynpiastri oops I guess the cat is out of the bag huh! the rumors are in fact true, oscar and I are married. we have been trying to keep it a secret since our elope in 2021, but it seems as though I slipped up with a photo on my insta. at least it was the perfect timing for the reception we're throwing this summer 🥰

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nicolepiastri see you at the sequel wedding!!

ynpiastri <3

user1 ...sorry?

user8 PARDON

user12 THEY'RE ACTUALLY MARRIED

user2 POOKIE YOU CANT JUST POST A SHIRTLESS OSCAR LIKE THAT

user7 her username change I am so endeared

mclaren how many of you knew...

logansargeant I did

alexandrasaintmleux I did

charles_leclerc I did

landonorris I DIDNT?!?!

landonorris @/oscarpiastri how come charles knew before me

charles_leclerc @/landonorris he's my son???

iamrebeccad I'm so happy for you!

ynpiastri tysm becks 🥹🫶

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 123,740 more

wagupdates the girlies pulling up to the belgian paddock

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user1 the color scheme 🛐

user2 PLS did they plan this for y/n’s wedding?

wagupdates @/user2 we think so!!

oscarpiastri I guess I need to step up my fashion game

charles_leclerc @/oscarpiastri I can help 😁

ynpiastri @/charles_leclerc no you cannot

user7 I love them

user4 they're GORGEOUS

francolapinto 😘

user8 ITS MR STEAL YOUR GIRL

user3 HAHAHA

user9 FRANCO Y/N IS MARRIED

charles_leclerc @/francocolapinto Te sugiero que elijas sabiamente tus próximas palabras (I suggest you choose your next words wisely)

francolapinto sorry sorry! its a joke its a joke 😅

user10 the threatening spanish 😭

carlossainz55 @/user10 I taught him that

fernandoalo_oficial @/carlossainz55 and I taught YOU that

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pierregasly, ynpiastri, carmenmundt, and 563,885 more

francisca.cgomes rich bitch energy

tagged; @/ynpiastri @/alexandrasaintmleux

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user1 are you shopping for dresses

francisca.cgomes mayybbe

ynpiastri GORGEOUS

francisca.cgomes NO YOU 😚

aussiegrit @/nicolepiastri do i get to walk oscar down the aisle

nicolepiastri no 😐

charles_leclerc that’s right because i am

user2 the family seating is gonna go crazy lol

user5 so what’s the dog situation?

landonorris bark

ynpiastri @/landonorris NO 😭

user5 I MEANT LEO AND ROSCOE 💀

ynpiastri @/user5 leo we know is definitely going to be there! 🥰

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Wedding Day-

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 1,749,053 more

ynpiastri 💍

tagged; @/francisca.cgomes

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danielricciardo 🥹

pierregasly vous êtes tous les deux magnifiques (you both look gorgeous)

user6 the fact that kika is her maid of honor

user7 IM NOT CRYING

user4 the venue is STUNNING

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

There was a salty ocean breeze on a cliff-side of Monaco, the place you and Oscar picked for the wedding.

There were dozens of familiar faces along with beautiful greenery and pastel flowers decorating the space.

You were sat at your table with your husband Oscar as the toast’s began to start.

“Hi,” someone said into the mic with a smile. “I’m Kika.”

There were a few soft laughs from the crowd. She pulled a piece of paper out of her gold-colored dress.

“When I found out you eloped without me that day in Paris my first thought was ‘fuck you’.” she said causing some more chuckles to come from the guests.

“It was only because I wouldn’t get the chance to give you the speech I had planned—but here we are today and I’m so glad I finally get to say it. Over these past couple years you have been my best friend, in and outside the paddock. I have so much love for you and I couldn’t be happier for your relationship with Oscar.”

You got up from your seat and hugged her, eliciting a few ‘aws’ from the room.

Lando stood up next with the mic, “Oscar was the guy on the grid no one could shut the up about,” Lando spoke into the mic and everyone laughed. “I didn’t get it at first, but then I met him, and I got it. And I felt the same when I met Y/n. You two are lucky to have each other. Congrats, mate.”

He raised his glass of champagne causing everyone to clink their glasses and cheer.

liked by lewishamilton, aussiegrit, nicolepiastri, and 1,937,954 more

ynpiastri wifey

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user1 this is so cunty

wagupdates we heard that y/n’s heel broke and oscar had to carry her to the car (hence the last picture) 😭

user7 she is SO pretty

patriciooward great to see you again osc!

user6 I. LOVE. THEM.

user2 omg they’re so hot

user3 y/n’s outfits today >>>

lilymhe the reception was beautiful

ynpiastri <3

[quantum1mmortality]

hihi! I saw your curly stuff, I love how you write him!! If it’s possible, nsfw headcanons for what turns him on? have a great day <3

Have I ever mentioned how much I love writing Curly? No? Well I am now. I love writing him. He's so awesome sauce, so boyfriend. My scrunkle

Tw/cw; lingerie, praise, mentions of masochism, accidentally almost wrote a one shot for the last one whoops lolololol, semi public sex IMPLIED

Not proofread

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

1; Lingerie

You guys can't look at me and tell me this man wouldn't go BALLISTIC for a nice set of lingerie. He makes good money at his job, good enough to be able to buy multiple sets of high quality, lacy lingerie for you to wear for him; then make you do a fashion show for him when you get them. Curly definitely comes off as a thigh guy, so he'd pick out all the sets with garter belts, specifically so he can slip his fingers under the seam and let go to see all that thigh movement. It actually drives him wild. Those sets can be pretty expensive, so hopefully he gets a raise soon since he's tearing apart every set he gets you.

2; Praise

I know it's overdone to say a character gets turned on by being praised but idc. This man has a praise kink and I will DIE on that hill. For anyone else, a praise to him wouldn't matter. He hears them constantly in his line of work, so at this point it's just noise. But from you? You like something about him? Oh no, he's hard. You could compliment him on the most mundane of things, say his uniform looks good on him and he's thinking about that the entire time he's at work. By the time he gets home, he's in genuine pain at how turned on he's been ALL DAY and not being able to help himself. He could, but he'd rather you do it. He's quite the masochist.

3; Titles

Imagine this; you're the wife of a well respected captain at Pony Express, and you decide to be a good wife and bring your beloved husband lunch. How sweet! You go to his department and call out to him, "Captain, I've brought lunch for you~" you giggle, drawing out his title. He looks up from.. whatever he was doing only to find you, holding a lunch box with a smile. Okay stop imagining, it's headcanon time.

Obviously the first thing he's going to do is thank you for lunch, he was famished. But after that, it's all blurry. It's like being with you has unlocked a bunch of new experiences for him, he never thought being called his title, the title he earned, would turn him on so much. It's like hearing it come from you was completely different from anyone else saying it. You ended up staying his entire lunch break and talking to him, only for your words to fall on deaf ears. He could barely even focus on what he was eating, let alone what you were telling him. Eventually he just had to excuse himself from the conversation, leaving you alone as he attempted, ATTEMPTED to satisfy himself. After a while he just gave up and went back out to where you were, told you the situation, and asked for your help. He was practically begging you, what were you supposed to do? Leave him there? No, you're a good wife. Of course you'd help him, right?

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

A/n; sometimes I forget I'm supposed to be writing hcs and accidentally lock in too much and go on little tangents. I'm suffering from success but it kind of fucks the vibe up ngl

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader and Sanemi going from hating to marrying each other + meeting up with the Kamado family post infinity castle

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Synopsis: Gosh, you hated that guy. Just the way the wind hashira talked to you pushed you over the edge far too often. Little did you know that you'll feel different about that hot-tempered man after everything is over, that you'll find yourself convincing your husband to meet the Kamado family...

Warnings: THIS IS SPOILER FREE Y'ALL, I wrote this without ANY spoilers in it, so none of the outcome is what actually happens in the manga like that (I actually aim for a spoiler-free blog so anime onlys don't have to worry, death of basically every other hashira, language, angst to fluff

Special thanks to cutie patootie @effetsecndaires for that super cute suggestion 🤍

„Me and that guy?“

„Yeah, there’s ain’t no way I’m working with that spoiled brat-„

„Who are you to call me spoiled, you prick-“

“Did you just call me prick you little-“

“Can you two just stop?”, Giyu mumbles under his breath, all pairs on eyes set on you and the wind hashira who is only inches away from your face by know.

God, how much you hate that guy. Since the first time you saw him beating up a bunch of innocent demon slayer to now where you literally feel his urge to slap you right into your face, you can’t stand him. Out of all skilled demon slayers, why does it have to be him? How did he even achieve the status of a pillar in the first place?

“Stay the hell out of it, Tomioka”, Sanemi barks at the water hashira in an instant.

“Stop acting like a jerk. Don’t you get that nobody will ever like you if you treat them like that!?”

“Not liking me? Look at you, (y/n). You’re a total loser.”

“Take that back right now!”

“That’s enough, stop already”, Gyomei finally speaks out.

Oh, you couldn’t care less about the stone hashira lifting himself off the ground or the thick tension that fills the air. Out of instinct, you yank towards, your fist aiming straight for his face. That little fucker will pay for every single insult, for every time he put you down-

“I said enough, (y/n).”

“Let go of me!”, you cry out when Gyomei catches you mid-air.

“You heard him, (y/n). Enough is enough”, Sanemi jeers at you with a slight grin.

Oh, how much you would have given to get teased by Sanemi Shinazugawa like that one last time. How desperately you wish you could turn back time to see all their faces again. When all of you arrived within the infinity castle, you knew you might not make it out alive, that some of your beloved friends will eventually never find their way out.

“Sanemi!”, you cried into the countless chambers around you, eyes aimlessly searching for the man your eyes locked with just seconds ago.

“(y/n)!”, he shouted from afar.

Where is he? Is he safe? What if you’ll never see him again? You swallowed hard, desperately trying to stop your dumb eyes from watering. What if…you’ll never see Sanemi again?

“Where are you?”

“Don’t you dare to die on me here!”, he yelled on top of his lungs.

Before eventually, he stopped replying.  Before you faced countless demons on your own, all at once.

You would have never imagined that those crazy eyes you hated so much since joining the chosen circle of hashira would be the ones you’ll see last before your lifeless body collapses onto the floor.

“No, you can’t leave me like that. Not you too, (y/n). Get yourself together and fight!”, he hissed through gritted teeth while grabbing your body tightly.

“S…Sanemi?”

What a relief it was to fall asleep in his muscular arms.

And what a surprise it was to wake up with him by your side again.

“I’m so tired”, you mumbled before being able to even think straight.

Everything hurt. From your little toe to your shoulder, over your torso and your crushed leg. It feels like you just returned from a trip to hell.

“You’re awake.”

Don’t so familiar voice that suddenly sounds so soft and broken, that maniac orbs that suddenly turned…hurt. Is Sanemi Shinazugawa crying?

“Are you okay?”, you croaked.

What about the others? Are they safe? Did you make it? What about Muzan, the upper moons, Tanjiro and his sister? Your brain threatens to give him, a breathtaking wave of nausea close to hit you with full force.

“Dumbass, look at yourself first. Are you okay?”

Gently, he caressed your cheek with his bruised knuckles, forcing your heart to skip a beat. Is this really the Sanemi Shinazugawa you know and hate?

Hate?

You furrow your eyebrows. Did you really hate him those past few weeks when you sat together after training past after midnight? Did you really hate him when fighting against those demons, when he was all you were able to think about? When on earth did you start un-hating him?

“I’m fine…But…the others?”

Just the way he shakes his head in defeat is enough for you to know. You swallow hard. All the people you loved…Mitsuri who always braided your hair, Shinobu always stitched you up after another fight with Sanemi, Giyu who always scolded you for acting out like that. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Gyomei, Obanai, Muichiro…Are all of them gone?

Suddenly you fail to breathe. Your friends, your found-family.

Everything’s gone.

“Hey, don’t panic.”

Did they suffer? How many people were forced to die in that senseless war?

“Look at me, (y/n).”

You can’t catch your breath, shaky hands clinging onto Sanemi’s sleeve for what feels like dear life.

“(y/n).”

He grabs your face with both of his hands. And all of the sudden, everything around you starts to get calm.

“It will be alright. Not today, not even tomorrow or next week. But we’ll get through this together.”

“I hate you”, you breathe out while getting lost in the new-found peace his eyes radiate.

“I hate you too”, he mumbles.

Why do his lips suddenly look so inviting, roaming closer and closer? Why do you enjoy the way he holds your face in place with his rough hands, how he stares at you in distress?

But there’s something apart from distress, a new-found feeling you’ve never seen before.

“More than anything else”, you add.

“Absolutely, yes.”

And then his lips crash into yours. Longingly, almost desperate Sanemi Shinazugawa kisses you with every fiber of his being, allows his body to finally give him. He never allowed himself a single positive thought when it came to you, always hated every minor thing you did. Until the infinity castle made him realize what he truly feels for you, that he needs to catch a taste of your forward lips before it is too late.

That was exactly one year ago.

“What’s on your mind again?”, Sanemi mumbles into your hair while staring into the sunset and holding you tight.

“Oh, I was just thinking about how much you hated me back then”, you chuckle.

What a relief it is. Being able to watch the sunset without fearing the night. Being able so live another day with your husband by your side.

Your husband, Sanemi Shinazugawa.

“I wonder what they would think, seeing us like that”, Sanemi comments dryly.

“Oh, they wouldn’t believe us.”

“Absolutely not, nah.”

“But I bet they’d be proud, right? I’m sure it’s fine that we’re doing okay…”

“You’re talking nonsense again, (y/n). Why would they ever be mad at us for living our lives?”

“Because they couldn’t.”

You swallow the lump that forms itself deep in your throat down. Not a single day went by without you thinking about your comrades. How they always had to keep the two of you separated, how much fun you’ve had despite the circumstances.

But now, there’s only you and Sanemi left. And Tanjiro Kamado.

“I think we should pay the Kamado family a visit”, you add before thinking about it any further.

To this day, Sanemi refused to meet up with Tanjiro and his sister. Maybe because he still hates the boy with the scar, maybe because seeing Tanjiro means being confronted with his past all over again. Over and over, you begged him to go, to make sure both of them are doing alright.

“Didn’t I say no 100 times already?”, Sanemi grumbles behind you.

“Well, you said you hate me at least 100 times as well and still, I’m here”, you bite back.

Sanemi shifts his weight, his muscles tense behind your back. You know too well that this isn’t easy for him, that seeing Tanjiro means getting confronted with a part of his past he’s so eager to forget. But the Kamado family never gave up their hope, always keeps their doors open if Sanemi does decide on meeting them someday.

“That’s not the same, idiot.”

“Sanemi.”

You turn around and cup his face gently with both hands.

“Maybe you should pay him a visit. We didn’t see him in a long time.”

“Why would I care though? It’s not like I liked that kid at one point”, he barks back at you.

You let out your breath. Despite the fact that infinity castle made both of you softer, Sanemi still didn’t lose his stubbornness and attitude. Well, so did you.

“You wanna act like an asshole? Go ahead, then. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, with or without you.”

Without another word, you get up and make your way back into the house. How frustrating living with him can be. But still…The past is scarry, maybe even too much too bear. After today, you won’t speak up about visiting the Kamado family again.

-the next day-

“Nezuko!”

She doesn’t hear you. The girl with the wavy black hair tied into a knot, her tender eyes focused on the garden in front of her feet. How breathtakingly gorgeous she is, a true beauty just like back then.

“Nezuko!”, you cry out again, waving at her like an idiot.

Back then, she saved your life by almost sacrificing her own. Even though you weren’t as kind as the other hashiras, the Kamado family always stood by your side and believed in you. Seeing her so unbothered and happy forces a wave of tears up your eyes, makes your vision go foggy.

Thanks to your comrades, all of this is over now.

“(y/n)!”, the girl finally greets you while mindlessly dropping her sickle and dashing towards you.

“(y/n), is it really you? I can’t believe it!”, Nezuko breathes out.

“Yeah, the original”, you giggle.

She still wears the same patterns she did back then. But her eyes, they look so different. Nezuko really is fully human again. You can’t stop a single tear rolling down your eyes. And all of this, only due to the sacrifice of your friends.

“No, don’t you cry, (y/n)! Not when both of us should be happy”, Nezuko croaks out, a thin coat of tears now covering her very own eyes.

“Those are happy tears. I’m so sorry for not visiting you sooner, it’s just…”

Yes, what is it? Did you hesitate because Sanemi wasn’t ready, because he refused over and over to accompany you? No, you yourself needed that time to heal, to get over all the terror and suffering you’ve been through.

“You don’t have to apologize at all. After all, Tanjiro and I needed some time to adjust to this new life as well. Do you mind me asking how Shinazugawa-sama is?”

“Sanemi? He’s doing okay. But he isn’t ready yet…”

“Of course, I get that! But there’s no need to rush, right? After all, we now have plenty of time left”, Nezuko replies with that oh so gentle grin plastered onto her face.

“(y/n), is that you?”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh, you’d recognize that voice from everywhere with its unwavering optimism and tender undertones.

“Long time no see, Kamado Tanjiro.”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself embraced into a tight hug, surrounded by nothing but the signature ichimatsu pattern that burned itself into your brain.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry for casually hugging you like this, (y/n)-sama!”, he adds in a haste, quickly letting go of you and bowing.

“I’m not a hashira anymore, Tanjiro. And both of us are equal. Well, now that I think of it, I should be the one who bows in front of you”, you contradict jokingly.

“It’s so nice to finally see you again! How are you?”

“I’m doing alright. Sanemi and I, we worked quite hard to renovate his estate after what happened. These past few months, we enjoyed watching the sunsets for the very first time in ages”, you explain briefly.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard that the two of you married. It makes me beyond happy you found your luck, (y/n).”

“Don’t you dare making my wife cry, brat.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat instantly picking up. You’d recognize that voice out of a thousand people. When you turn around, you get greeted by the annoyed expression of none other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Did he follow you? When did he decide on meeting the Kamado’s? You’ve been bugging him for ages, almost begging him to pay Tanjiro and Nezuko a visit.

And now he stands there, arms casually crossed in front of his chest.

“Shinazugawa-sama, what a honor-“

“Spare me with that bullshit”, Sanemi interrupts the boy immediately.

“Just tell me how you’re doing.”

Oh. Your eyes threaten to overfill with joy all over again, Sanemi’s arm now wrapped around your waist tightly. Just 2 years ago, you didn’t even think about the possibility to even like Sanemi, to look after the Kamado’s.

But this is your life now. Your oh so sweet life.

“You might have been right. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all”, Sanemi whispers into your ear.

“So, does that mean you finally don’t hate me anymore.”

“That’s a bit out of line, Kamado. You’re still a brat, after all.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[purplecoffee13]

Please, Please, Please - pt.1

Summary: “Harry is utterly fascinated by his new neighbor, Y/N, and takes it upon himself to protect her. But little does Y/N know, that Harry may be the person she is supposed to be running from…”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, bit of gaslighting.

A/N: THIS IS A TWO PART ONE SHOT based on this request. Please note that it is based around the MUSIC VIDEO, not necessarily the song itself! I decided to cut it up into two parts, because it was getting awfully long, and I was too eager to share it with you. Next part will be steamy!

General Masterlist

PART 2

You sigh, looking up at your new home. Well— you think. You're not exactly sure which window is yours, but you will figure it out once you're on the right floor. You adjust the duffel bag that is slung over your shoulder, and grab your suitcase before walking towards the entrance.

With your new set of keys which you got from the landlord yesterday, you open the door to the lobby. Or, hallway with post boxes. That would definitely be a more accurate way to describe it.

When you were little and fantasized about moving into a place of your own, you have to admit, you did imagine something a bit less... intimidating. Unfortunately, you had been left with no choice.

Ever since your dad died about five years ago, your mother has been serial dating like there was no tomorrow. You had learned to ignore the different men in your kitchen, eating the cereal and drinking your coffee at 7am, but lately something had changed.

Your mother had stuck with one man.

Sadly for you—and your mother, although she wasn't ready to admit that—the guy was a fucking prick. Worst thing about him? He was sneaky about it. When you confronted your mother, telling her you weren't sure if her new boyfriend was that good of a guy, she had flipped out. As she threw all kinds of accusations on the table, such as you not wanting her to be happy and even insinuating you want her boyfriend for herself, you decided that enough was enough.

That night, you hunted the internet for an affordable place. It's how you found this apartment. You knew it wasn't the best neighborhood, but it was a place of your own, and you were sure that you could make it on your own over there.

After all, you had a well paid office job not too far away, and the costs of the apartment wouldn't interfere too much with your saving for law school.

So, kind of on a whim, you contacted the landlord. And now, here you are, ready to unpack all of your stuff. Your mother had at least been so kind to hire a moving truck, but you think it mainly had to do with her wanting you out of her house as quick as possible. You shared the sentiment, so you hadn't said much about it, besides a polite thank you of course.

It takes you three hours to get everything upstairs, and the janitor, Rod, even helps you out with some of the big furniture. Being a tall, broad guy, appearing to be in his sixties, you had actually been quite unnerved by him. Nevertheless, you decided to play smart and throw him a sweet smile the first time you ran into him. It had faded the seemingly permanent  frown on his ever so slightly, and after introducing yourself, his face was even neutral.

It didn't take more than three minutes of chit chat before Rod had warmed up to you, and by the end of the fifteen minutes, he offered to help you. If it hadn't been for him, you would've still been carrying pieces of your couch into your apartment.

You had been able to take over the bed frame and the dining table from the previous owner, so you only had to put your mattress on your bed before you could let yourself fall on it and chill out for a while.

After letting yourself rest for about fifteen minutes, you unpack as much of the stuff in the kitchen, and you spend the rest of the night unpacking your clothes while dancing to the music that blasts through your headphones.

At around midnight, you pass out during a feeble attempt at sorting your socks.

Your peaceful slumber gets interrupted, however, by an array of less peaceful noises coming from another apartment. The first few minutes awake are spent with your eyes stubbornly closed, hoping to fall asleep again, but when you hear an extremely loud thud, your eyes shoot open.

Getting up from your bedroom, you walk over to your door, and look through the peephole. It doesn't seem like there is anyone in the hallway, and the sounds do seem to have quieted down. You sigh, turning around to go back to your bed, when you hear a shout, followed by another thump. Frowning, you go back and open the door, walking out into the hallway. You squint, and blink a few times to get used to the harsh light. Then, you knock on the door in front of you.

There's a couple of voices sounding from inside the apartment, but no one answers. You groan, knocking again, and even harsher this time. It grows quiet, and you are contemplating going back to bed, hoping whoever is on the other side of that wall got the message, but then the door swings open.

In front of you stands a man, with brown curls and a very apparent frown on his face. One that falters ever so slightly at the sight of you, and is accompanied by a small smirk. He leans against the door frame. His cross necklace dangles, visible by his dress shirt that is far from buttoned all the way up, and you swear it hypnotizes you for the shortest second.

"H-hi." You stammer, looking at the man with wide eyes. His smirk grows, and you forget why you are even here.

"Hello." He greets back, hands sliding into his pockets as he looks you up and down, shamelessly. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"Uh, I just moved into the apartment across from you, and I was wondering if you could keep down the noise a little bit?" You ask, but the man doesn't respond. He solely scans you with some sort of frown on his face. You can't deduce whether that is his neutral face, or if he's pissed at you. Nevertheless, you are kind of scared. "It's just— I don't mean to be rude. I just have to get up very early, and it was very loud, so... also, are you okay? It's— I heard a thud, I thought maybe someone fell?"

Once again, it grows quiet between the two of you. With every passing moment of silence, you are regretting your choice to knock. Did you really have to piss off your neighbors the first night you moved in? Couldn't have just battled through a broken night? You curse yourself as you wait for some sort of answer.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

You let out a breath of relief, glad to see he is not taking it badly. You bite your lip, trying to fight your smile from getting too wide.

"Really? Thank you so much! I appreciate it, and I really didn't mean to offend you or anything. I promise, it's just because I have to get up so early and the coffee at my work is horrible so—" You stop yourself mid-sentence when you realize you are babbling your new neighbor's ear off. "Never mind. Good night, and nice to meet you. My name is Y/N, by the way."

The man doesn't say anything once again, so you take it as your cue to get the fuck back to bed before making it worse. You walk into your apartment, turning around to close the door, when you hear his voice.

"Harry."

Your head shoots up, tilting it ever so slightly at the sudden word spoken by your neighbor. He tilts his head, mocking you, as he repeats the name while pointing to himself. With that, he turns around and closes the door. You do the same, leaning against the door as you realize you have the hottest new neighbor ever.

Another, extremely loud thud sounds from his apartment, and your eyebrows knit together. A loud voice is heard, one that is clearly Harry's shouting 'sorry!'. You giggle, shaking your head at the comedic timing before waltzing back to your bed.

Little do you know, that while you fall back asleep in your comfortable bed, your new neighbor thinks about you through the entire night. Harry's mind is absent, even as they drag the body of the guy that didn't pay up in time out of his apartment, even as he scrubs the blood off his hands and face.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

He had been purely sarcastic, baffled by the fact that you even had the guts to knock on his door. The first time you knocked, he thought it was just noise from outside or something. No one was stupid enough to knock on Harry Styles' door. No one was dumb enough to risk it.

But someone did knock; an insanely beautiful woman with nothing but an oversized shirt on. Well, shorts under it maybe, but for the sake of his imagination, you didn't. And you weren't stupid, you just didn't know whose door you were knocking on.

Anyone else who would have been foolish enough to do so, especially while he was dealing with a deadbeat who owed him more than enough money, would've met an entirely different fate.

The way you stumbled over your words and  let your eyes travel over his body had given him too much of an ego boost not to play with you a little bit. And once you had reacted so genuinely to his sarcastic response, he somehow didn't have it in his heart to tell you that he wasn't being serious.

Which is strange, because he didn't peg himself for someone with a heart, not anymore.

Nevertheless, he decided that you were right. The incessant noise had gone on long enough. And so, right after he closed the door, Harry turned around aimed his silencer right at the deadbeat's head. Following the thud of his body falling down, he had shouted a 'sorry' for the last noise he would make that night.

Now, as he lays in bed, the reason for his sleeplessness isn't the weight of another death on his shoulders. No, it's his new neighbor and her long, bare legs.

************************************************

ONE DAY LATER

Your shoulders are hurting.

After yesterday's moving activities and today's excruciatingly long day at work, you are exhausted. Not only did you have to do an insane amount of paperwork today, you also got assigned to even more administrative work that shouldn't even be yours to deal with in the first place.

When you had mentioned you wanted to gain experience in the field of law during your interview for receptionist at a law firm, you hadn't expected them to throw all the work in your lap. You were doing a lot of things, spending way too many after hours in the office, doing jobs that were never in your job description, and instead labeled as 'ways to gain experience'. The worst thing is, your boss is acting like these tasks are a huge favor to you, but you know it's just the jobs that they are too lazy to do themselves.

Nonetheless, you don't say anything about it. Despite the cruelness and sometimes uselessness of the assignments you are given, you do have access to active cases that lawyers are working on, and it gives you an opportunity to observe their styles and its effectiveness.

Wanting to become a lawyer is something you had always dreamed of. You loved justice, and you weren't afraid to fight for it. In your day to day life, you are very sweet, bubbly, and in some cases—like yesterday—even shy. But once you are in a professional setting, you can switch and stand strong. The division between your personal and professional self is one you have learned to balance very well, and you also use it as a secret weapon. People are way too quick to underestimate you, and you always make sure it comes back to bite them in the ass.

You put your groceries and briefcase on the ground, allowing yourself to look for your keys, which you forgot to take out of your bag and are now buried somewhere at the bottom. Head deep into your purse, you don't notice Harry walking out of his apartment until his door shuts. It is right after you've found your keys, so with them in hand you turn around to greet him with a smile.

Your new neighbor looks gorgeous, which doesn't bode well for you because you are currently feeling like an expired, mushy sack of potatoes. You shiver at the thought.

"Hey!" You say instead.

"Hello sweetheart." His smooth, English accent hits your ears just right. "Sleep well last night?"

Your cheeks turn pink, and you nod. "Yes, thank you for asking. Oh! Speaking of..."

You turn around and bend down to dig through your grocery bag. When your eyes meet Harry's again, you are reaching out a bouquet of flowers. He stares at it, wary of your intentions.

"They're for you." You feel the need to clarify.

"Aw, sweetheart, you didn't have to go through the hassle of buying me flowers. I'm quite an easy man you know, all you have to do is ask." He says, grin wide as he observes the way your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets at the suggestion of him and you. He likes seeing you all flustered.

"W-what, no! I— it was for yesterday! Because you were so nice to me. I wanted to make up for meeting in such an unfortunate way. Didn't want you to think you have a shitty neighbor now or something." You explain, watching Harry's amusement at your awkwardness.

"I'd never think that, sweetheart." His voice is low, and despite saying it in a bit of a joking way, you swallow at the sound of the sentence. The raspiness of it just gets to you. You brush your nerves off with a weak smile, and turn to open your door.

"Well, have a good night." You say, awkwardly waving at Harry as you carry your bags into your apartment. You place them in your hallway before walking back to close the door. Harry waves back with the flowers, winking at you.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Your heart races at the continuous nickname. It sounds so sexy coming out of his mouth, and it is the only thing you can think of as you cook your dinner. It is even hard to concentrate while watching your favorite show.

A few hours go by, and the sound of Harry's voice doesn't fade from your mind. Neither does the excruciating pain in your shoulders. At around nine p.m. you give up and decide to grab some painkillers. However, to your great horror, you find out that you ran out and forgot to buy new ones.

Cursing yourself, you rush over to your coatrack and grab your jacket. Along with your purse, containing important things such as money, your keys, and pepper spray, you leave your apartment to pop into the convenience store nearby.

It's only a five minute walk, but with your speed you cut a minute from that estimate. It takes a little bit to find the paracetamol, but after grabbing two boxes of pills, you rush to the cash register. You wait until the man in front of you has paid, smiling politely when he turns around to walk out of the store, and step forward to pay for your painkillers.

Despite the cashier's monotone voice, you are more than satisfied with this convenience store, and you walk out smiling at the knowledge of being rid of your pain very soon.

You flinch at the sight of the man from before standing right outside, grinning at you as you walk by. Despite his middle aged appearance, his teeth are rather yellow. You avoid making further eye contact, tension growing in your stomach. As you walk back to your apartment, you make sure to keep your pace quick.

You're too scared to look behind you, but you feel it. You feel that this man is walking a few meters behind you and you also feel like you might throw up. But you keep walking, keys in one hand, pepper spray in the other.

You are ready to open the door that leads you to the hallway of your apartment complex, and immediately push the key into the hole once you get there. But for some stupid fucking reason, the door won't budge. Your heartbeat rises and your hands are getting clammy as you shimmy your keys, trying to open that goddamn door. As your eyes begin to water, you hear a voice behind you.

"Need some help, pumpkin?"

Frantically, your gaze searches for a way to get out of here. It falls into the intercom, but you can't seem to find some sort of emergency button. Since you can't buzz yourself in, that option seems to be useless.

Then, an idea enters your mind.

You take a deep breath, hoping it'll steady your voice before you respond. "No thank you."

The man chuckles. "I think you do. 'S okay, I like a damsel in distress."

Pulling the key out of the hole and wrapping your hand around it, you turn around to the man. You swallow your pride and try to be as nice as you can be when rejecting someone. Stepping back a bit, you almost lean against the wall as you blindly press one of the buttons behind you. Luckily, the noise of ringing a bell isn't very loud from downstairs, so you don't think the man notices your sneaky action.

"I am fine, good night." You say, your smile gone now. You can't find it in yourself to be nice and sweet after that creepy comment. Technically, you are very helpless right now. Because of him, and his actions that fill you with fear. The threat of his presence is what makes you that 'damsel in distress' in the first place, and you hate the fact that men idolize saving you when often they are the danger itself.

"I don't think you are. Why don't you come with me, get a drink together?" His tone is dominated by the insincerity that drips from his words. You know it isn't a question, it's a command. The salacious smirk he wears with it is disgusting, and the way his eyes shamelessly scan you makes you want to shower five times just to feel less gross.

You feel the slight pain in your thumb for pressing so much and hard into the button behind you, but you can't help but pray that your idea will work.

"No, please leave me alone." You try to be as stern as you can, although your shaky voice isn't conveying that message very well.

"I don't think you understood what I said, pumpkin. You and me are gonna get a drink together." He reaches forward and grabs you by your arm, pulling you towards him. You try to shake him off of you, but his grip only tightens. You choke out a cry, still trying to get his grimy hands off of you while he only buries his fingernails further into your skin.

"Let me go!" You scream as loud as you can, hoping that there is someone who will at least hear you. Your free hand reaches into your purse, and you pull out your pepper spray. In a split second, you are holding it up and spray it in the man's eyes.

He shrieks in shock, and lets go of you, covering his eyes with his hands. You quickly turn around to run back inside, but crash into a body on your way there.

Holding your waist, Harry keeps you from falling over. He frowns, his jaw clenching when he catches your terror filled, red eyes.

"Go inside." He orders. While the context is stern, the words spoken come out way softer than one would think when demanding something from someone. You don't have to be told twice, rushing through the open door and running up the countless flights of stairs. You are completely out of breath when you reach your floor, but you don't stop hurrying until you are in the safety of your own apartment.

You tear all your clothes off your body, feeling like you might choke because everything you have on feels to tight to your skin. You keep crying as you jump into the shower to wash yourself off, as you take off your make-up, and as you put a tank top and loose sweatpants on your freshly washed body.

You take your head out of the bun it was in to keep it dry as you walk towards your front door upon hearing a knock. When you open it, you're standing face-to-face with your neighbor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, eyebrows knotted as he looks at you. You nod, not wanting to say a word because you don't want to make him uncomfortable by becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. "Can I come in?"

You nod again, opening the door further so he can enter your place. His steps are careful and light, and you see his eyes scan the apartment as he walks in. You shut the door behind him, making Harry turn around to look at you.

He is back at your side as soon as he spots the marks on your arm that the creepy man left when he tried to take you to god knows where. With a tight jaw, Harry glances up at you.

"You need to put ice on that. It's gonna bruise."

You look down, too timid to meet his gaze, and notice Harry's red knuckles. It doesn't take you very long to put two and two together. For some reason, you don't want to directly mention that just yet, so instead you whisper:

"You too."

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle and nods his head, watching you as you walk over to your freezer to get some ice. Putting it in two different dish cloths, you hand one to him before walking over to your couch. Harry follows suit, plopping next to you and putting the cloth meant for him on your arm.

Flushed from that action, you slowly grab his hand and place it flat on your thigh. Ignoring the way it makes the rest of your body feel, you press the ice filled cloth against his knuckles, hoping the cold will give him some relief. He winces, his fingers tightening around your thigh ever so slightly before immediately relaxing again.

Your eyes travel to your own arm, initially to see Harry's hand wrapped around it. However, the sight of the red marks on your arm make your eyes water again, the memory from what just happened resurfacing. The sickening fear of not knowing how the fuck to get out of that situation is as overwhelming as it was just before, even though you are safe now. You hate that a man made you feel so weak.

You can't help the tears from flowing, so you just let them as you silently recall the events of tonight. Your thoughts are cut in on when Harry removes his bruised hand from your thigh and cups it around your jaw. He leans forward, green eyes all sympathetic.

"It's okay, you're okay. He won't hurt you anymore, or ever again." He whispers. You shut your eyes, your silent tears now breaking into soft sobs. There is no choice but to let the sadness flow, and relish in the comfort of Harry's fingers wiping away your tears as you cry out the stress you had been feeling, and give it a place.

You feel it getting lighter with every cry. Each tear that Harry catches is a bit of weight off your shoulders. For some reason he chooses to sit there and offer you a space to store your pain. And even though normally you would never allow yourself, tonight you make use of that space.

*****************************************

A few weeks had gone by, and Harry had taken it upon himself to become your new watch dog. After what happened, he refused to let you go outside by yourself.

The morning after the incident, you got up and went to work like normal. But when you opened your apartment door, you ran into Harry, who had also been planning on going outside. He walked you to your car, and watched as you drove away. That night, when you returned from work, you ran into him again in the hallway downstairs, and walked to your apartments together.

After about three nights of these exact same situations, you could confirm for yourself that Harry was waiting to escort you anywhere.

You thought confronting him about your knowledge of his schemes would put an end to the overprotectiveness, but you were proven wrong. Instead of toning down his behavior, he amped it up. There wasn't a trip to the supermarket that you made by yourself anymore. And anytime you tried to say something about his following you everywhere, he would make up a silly excuse that left you speechless with flushed cheeks and a stupid grin on your face. You gave up fighting it not long after that, mainly because you enjoy his company so much.

Being so close to Harry all the time did make you realize how much distance everyone else kept from him. You didn't miss how people avoided his gaze, or how certain cashiers stumbled over their words as you paid for your groceries. It had you wondering; just how scary was Harry?

Harry had really taken it upon himself to protect you. It kind of went automatically, if he had to be honest. He simply couldn't watch you walk around the neighborhood so defenseless. What happened to you had enraged him so much, he didn't want a repetition of it.

Of course, an exact repetition was not an option anymore since he had beaten up the guy who assaulted you to the point where he was hospitalized. Harry couldn't find it in himself to feel even the slightest of remorse. Well, maybe only for the fact that he didn't kill him right then and there. He would have, had he not been too worried about you being alone upstairs.

Soon enough, word had traveled about your association with Harry, and it resulted into people being afraid of you. You were so incredibly confused about the shaky voices of people you'd ask for help in stores. You had never imagined yourself to have such an intimidating aura.

Since Harry had taken it upon himself to watch you, you had taken it upon yourself to feed him. It was the least you could do, and it gave you a reason to keep him around longer at night.

Part of you was aware that wanting to get closer to Harry might not be the best idea, especially considering the collectively instilled fear that lingered everywhere he would go. But he was so sweet to you, and you were sure that there was an explanation.

So, tonight during dinner, you had decided you would ask him about it.

Harry was delighted when you asked him if he wanted to stay and eat, and didn't hesitate to say yes. Now as he leans against the counter, watching you cook the pasta you promised to prepare, you have to actively control your breathing. His intense stare has a way of turning your legs into jelly and fogging up your mind.

"How was your day?" You ask him as casually as you can. Harry doesn't tear his eyes off of you, grinning at the way he is making you squirm.

"Good, love."

You swallow at the new nickname he suddenly conjured up. The low baritone of his voice combined with his green eyes on yours has your heartbeat getting out of control. You hear the breathy chuckle leaving Harry's mouth, and it makes your stomach turn. He knows exactly what he is doing.

"So, uhm... I have a question." You say, focusing extra hard on stirring the boiling pasta. He hums, indirectly telling you to ask away. You turn down the pitch on which your pasta stands, and turn to face him. For the first second that you meet his eyes, you were forget what you were even going to ask him, but you quickly regain your senses.

"Why is everyone here so afraid of you?" You tilt your head, really observing Harry. Sure, he is tall, with a broad and muscled figure. He always wears dark clothes and his green eyes will never look away first. But to truly be terrified of this man? You couldn't imagine why.

Harry doesn't say anything. He pushes himself away from the counter and walks towards you, slowly towering over your smaller frame. He leans forward, his face closer to yours than it has ever been before, and it gives you ideas that you probably shouldn't have.

"Do I scare you?"

Silently, you shake your head. Harry's eyes slowly travel down your face, fixating on your mouth for the longest five seconds you have ever experienced, and then shoot back up to meet yours again. "Then why do you care so much about what others think?"

"I don't." You respond embarrassingly fast, overwhelmed with a need to get his approval.

"Well, there you have your answer."

With that, he turns around to the counter and grabs the glass of white wine you poured for him. Taking it between his hands as if it were a cocktail glass, you watch entranced as he takes a sip. Your gaze falls onto his hands. You feel sinful for the thoughts that occupy your mind, but they fly out the window when you spot how bruised his knuckles are. And you realize...

"No, I don't." You say sternly. Harry looks at you, amused by your protest. "I don't know anything about you, Harry."

Harry laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, accompanied by his hand running through his hair and his head shaking as if he can’t believe what he is dealing with. A part of you wants to get on your knees and beg him to forgive you for being suspicious of who he truly is, but you refrain from doing it.

“People fear what they don’t know, Y/N.” He says, his eyes finding yours. Your heart starts beating faster, aware of the fact that his eyes are going to keep being trained on yours without even so much as faltering.

“I don’t give a fuck about what those people think of me, they don’t know me. You do. So why is their judgment relevant? I’m here, aren’t I? Standing in front of you, letting you know me. Is that not enough?”

You feel a pang of guilt in your stomach at his words, and the authenticity of them. You let out a sigh, breaking eye contact to look down at the floor, contemplating what he’s saying. Maybe he is right.

“Sorry.” You say so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. The feeling of Harry’s fingers pushing your chin up makes your eyes meet his, and you notice the hint of a smile he wears.

“Go sit.”

Slightly confused, you follow his order, looking back at him to see him finishing up the pasta and making a bowl for the both of you.

“I’m 29.” He states, his back still to you. Your mouth breaks into a smile, and you prop your elbow on the couch, leaning your chin into the palm of your hand as you observe him.

“Really?” You are grinning like a proper idiot now. Harry nods.

“I don’t have any siblings, but we did have a dog, and we rescued a stray kitten that was sleeping in our garden.” He goes on, turning around and walking over to the couch with the bowls of pasta. He sits down and hands you one.

“What are their names?” You ask.

“Dog is called Pepper. Mum let me name the cat, so I named her Hades.” He explains, making you a giggle.

“You named your girl cat Hades?”

“Persephone is such a mouthful. Plus, I was like ten, and had this big obsession with Hades.” He shrugs, taking a bite of the pasta. Your eyes widen, and you begin to laugh even harder.

“You mean to tell me that little ten year old Harry was obsessed with the Greek God of the underworld, the God of death… Are you okay?”

Harry shrugs. “He’s just doing his job.”

You cover your face with your hands, beyond amused by his nonchalance. You don’t see it, but Harry might take more joy out of the situation than you. His eyes sparkle with adoration as he watches you laugh, and he wishes he knew how to control time just to stay in this moment forever. There is something so extraordinary about your happiness being caused by him. He is fascinated with how much he wishes he could do it every day for the rest of his life.

He didn’t know whether opening up about himself was the smartest ideas, but he would give you his social security number if it made you laugh like that.

You take your hands off your face and look at him, the sudden urge to kiss him being almost unbearable. Almost. You sigh, not knowing how to express these feelings you have towards him, so instead you opt for a simple comment.

“I’m so glad you’re my neighbor.”

Harry smirks. “I’m glad you’re my neighbor too.”

[libraryofgage]

so i wrote this yesterday and now it's become a whole thing

basically: Steve is actually smart but nobody realized it until he just fixes their various STEM related problems

anyway this is Eddie's very first experience with how smart Steve Harrington actually is

also please don't call me out if my physics explanations are wrong. just suspend your disbelief, i'm begging you lmao

also also, if you see any typos, no you didn't

---

"You're going to fail my class, Munson."

"Gee, no need to sugarcoat it," Eddie mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets and avoiding Miss Chester's gaze. His eyes land on one of the posters behind her desk, a cat hanging off a tree branch. Maybe it would like to trade places.

Miss Chester sighs, looking pointedly at the desk closest to hers. She waits until Eddie sits on it, legs hanging over the edge. "I'm serious," she says. "You're going to fail, Eddie. I don't want you to, but there's just some...disconnect happening here."

He appreciates that she's not totally blaming him. Most of Eddie's other teachers would've been berating him for his laziness by now. This, among other things, is why Eddie likes her class even if he can't wrap his head around physics at all. "I don't know, Miss. It just doesn't make sense."

"So I'm noticing." Miss Chester leans back in her chair, her finger tapping against her desk. Eddie immediately recognizes it as the drum beat from a KISS song. "You know you'll probably be held back if you fail, right?"

"Not the first time."

Miss Chester waves off his words, looking deep in thought. "What do you think about tutoring? I think you'll do better in a one-on-one setting. If you understand the concepts better, I can start grading you based on the work you do with the tutor."

"It wouldn't be you?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly. He's not sure he wants some random geek tutoring him. Not that he has anything against geeks, of course, but he's never known one to talk in a way he can understand. They get all...technical and Eddie's eyes glaze over whenever he overhears their conversations.

"No, I don't have the time. But don't worry," Miss Chester says, smiling reassuringly before pulling her roster close and looking down the list. "The student I have in mind probably knows more than me, if I'm being honest. He should be able to answer any question you have."

"What student?"

"His name is Steve."

Of course, Eddie immediately thinks of that Steve. King Steve. Steve "The Hair" Harrington with his blinding smile that's always looked a little strained in Eddie's opinion.

He then dismisses Steve Harrington as a possibility and reviews the other kids named Steve at Hawkins High. There's Steve Paulson, Steve Meyers, and Steve Barns. Maybe it's Barns? He's the only one that Eddie could imagine being somewhat good at physics.

"Are you open to tutoring?" Miss Chester asks. "For one session, at least?"

"Yeah, sure, one session. Won't help, though."

Miss Chester smiles like she knows something Eddie doesn't. Which, to be fair, she does. She knows a lot more than Eddie in terms of physics, at least. "I'll set it up. Just come by tomorrow after school."

--------

On his first day at Hawkins High, Steve realized two things.

One, his parents weren't kidding when they'd said public school would be vastly different from the private group tutoring he'd received up to that point.

Two, if he wanted to have a good high school experience, he needed to be cool. And being cool, it seemed, meant not being smart. He didn't need to be dumb, but he couldn't breeze through his classes, either.

He's done a good job of it so far. He's bored beyond reason in most of his classes, sure, but he's also popular. Nobody bothers him or tries to copy off of him, and it's great. He can even swallow down the weird surge of frustration and annoyance and guilt whenever his classmates assume he's too dumb to be a good project partner, or when his parents ask why he isn't enrolled in AP classes, or when his teachers give him confused looks after he aces tests for a unit he seemingly didn't pay attention to.

Anyway, he almost rejected Miss Chester's request to tutor a student from a different class period. He was just about to say he didn't have the time when she leveled him with a look so profoundly hopeful that he just couldn't. So, Steve said yes and now he's hesitating outside the physics classroom.

What if the student inside uses this against him? Steve thinks he could play it off, maybe convince his friends that the kid is lying, but he's not sure. Nothing dire would happen, but Steve would have to reorient himself to a new place on the social ladder, and that sounds exhausting.

"Just get it over with," he mumbles. Then, before he can chicken out and just leave the other student hanging, he opens the door and steps into the classroom.

Miss Chester isn't there. Steve knew she wouldn't be. She'd said something about a department meeting that would take her time but leave them with the classroom to themselves.

The only other person in the room is Eddie Munson, bent over a notebook and furiously scribbling on the page. He looks up when the door opens and freezes at the sight of Steve. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Eddie breaks the silence by asking, "What, get lost on your way to the locker room, Harrington?"

Steve blinks, frowns slightly, and takes a deep breath. Okay. Fine. Eddie Munson it is. "Nope. Miss Chester asked me to tutor you," he says, because that's the only reason another student would be in this room after school has let out.

Eddie laughs. He nearly falls out of his chair with how hard he laughs. He's wheezing and clutching the edges of the desk by the time Steve moves another desk to face him and sits down across from him. "Are you done, Munson?" he asks.

"Holy shit, you're serious," Eddie says, his voice slightly strained and his face red from laughing. "No fucking way Steve Harrington is here to tutor me in physics. You probably don't even know what two plus two is!"

"It's four. Do you know what 12 times 40 is?" Steve asks, watching as Eddie blinks.

"I'm not a fucking calculator, man."

"No, you're not. It's 480, by the way."

"You could've just memorized that."

Steve sighs and reaches into his bag, digging around some before pulling a calculator out. He places it on Eddie's desk and says, "Ask me something."

Eddie looks at him like he's grown a second head but still pulls the calculator closer. "1,239 plus 378."

"1,617."

He watches Eddie use the calculator, feeling smug when his face twists into confused disbelief. He then puts the calculator down and frowns at Steve. "So you can add, big whoop. Doesn't mean you can teach me shit about physics."

"Won't know until we try," Steve says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his palm. "So, what don't you get?"

"...All of it. Just assume I don't know shit."

"You don't know Newton's laws?"

Eddie snorts, looking back down at his notebook. "There's that motion one and the reaction one," he says.

"Right. Newton's first law and his third. What about the second?"

"It's just...some equation or some shit."

Okay, Steve is starting to get an idea of where things stand. He thinks for a moment before asking, "What kind of stuff do you like?"

"What?"

"What do you like?"

Eddie looks so shocked by the question that he doesn't really think before answering, "Heavy metal. And, uh, D&D, too."

Steve knows heavy metal is music, and he could work with that but the D&D Eddie mentioned might be better. "What does it involve? The D&D?"

"It's a fantasy role playing game. Like, using your imagination to go on adventures with friends and stuff. Needs dice to work."

Oh. Perfect. "Do you have dice with you?" Steve asks. After another brief pause, Eddie nods and pulls one out of his pocket. He passes it over and watches as Steve turns it between his fingers. "Oh, an icosahedron. Cool."

"A what?"

"Icosahedron," Steve says, looking at Eddie. "It just means a twenty-sided polyhedron."

Eddie still looks confused, and Steve is about to explain it again when Eddie says, "Just call it a D20, dude."

"Oh. Sure. Anyway, let's use this," Steve says, rolling it between his fingers before letting it clatter to the desk. It bounces a few times before settling, a 17 facing up. "Do you know what made it stop moving?"

"The desk. I'm not an idiot, Harrington."

"I didn't say you were, Munson," Steve replies, leaning back slightly. "Just...yes, the desk stopped it. This is Newton's first law. If the desk wasn't there, it would have kept falling until it hit the floor. It stopped bouncing because it lost power each time it hit the desk. An object, the D20, will stay in motion, falling, unless acted upon by another force, the desk."

"That...kinda made sense," Eddie says, blinking a few times.

"Great!" Steve says, unable to help the bright smile at knowing Eddie understood him. "Okay, for the second law, the equation is mass times acceleration equals force. Basically, the movement of an object depends on how much it weighs and how much force you apply."

"Aaaand ya lost me," Eddie says.

"Okay, uh, you fight things in that game, right?"

"Yeah, kind of the whole point."

"Right, yeah, and the stuff you fight comes in different sizes, right?"

"Well, an orc isn't gonna be as big as a dragon, is it?"

Steve isn't really sure what an orc is, but he nods anyway. "Right. So if you want to move a dragon, you need to land a stronger hit than you would need for an orc."

"Duh. You're not gonna fell a dragon with a basic cantrip."

"Not sure what that is, but yeah. For this example, moving, or defeating, an object, or a dragon that weighs more than an orc, relies on how much force you apply, which is the strength you use."

"Oh. So, because an orc weighs less, I don't need as much force to defeat it," Eddie says, grinning as he fidgets with his pencil. "This doesn't really sound like math, though."

Steve shrugs. "We'll get to the math part later. Right now is basics. You need to understand those to do more complicated stuff. So, the third law, this is the action-reaction law. Music might be better for it. What happens when you strum a guitar?"

"It...makes a sound. Because it's an instrument."

"Well, yeah, but do you understand how the sound is being made."

"By...strumming it?"

"Yeah, that's part of it. Sounds are vibrations in the air that we can understand. If you touch your throat while talking, you'll feel your voice box, your larynx, vibrate to make the sound of you talking."

He waits as Eddie does exactly that. While holding his fingers to his throat, Eddie says, "Didn't know it was called a larynx. Oh, fuck, yeah, there are vibrations."

Steve nods, waiting patiently as Eddie hums for a few minutes before looking back at him. "So, vibrations. Instruments make sound because playing them causes vibrations. When you strum a guitar, the strings rapidly move back and forth, and that movement is translated into notes."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, I'm following you."

"So, the action of strumming a guitar creates the reaction of the strings vibrating. That action of the strings vibrating creates the reaction of air rippling, and those ripples create the reaction of audible noise. Did that make sense?"

"Yeah. It did," Eddie says, his voice soft as he stares at Steve like he's really seeing him for the first time.

Steve shifts uncomfortably, unused to this aspect of himself being known so well by someone at school. He's almost tempted to end things now and apologize to Miss Chester for walking out halfway through a tutoring session. Steve is practicing the apology in his head when Eddie says, "Hey, by the way, sorry for earlier."

"What?" Steve asks, trying to blink away his confusion and failing.

"You know, earlier, when I laughed at you? Pretty shitty of me to do. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

"Oh." Steve stares at Eddie for a few seconds before his shoulders relax. "It's fine. I'm not exactly known for being smart."

"Why not?"

"It's just...easier to let people think I'm dumb. Most of our classmates look at me and think I'm just, you know, a typical jock. They don't expect more from me than that, and I don't expect them to look any deeper."

"Does anyone else know, though?"

"My parents and the teachers. And you."

"Well, don't worry, big boy. Your secret's safe with me."

"Big boy?"

"Don't like it? Would you prefer Stevie?" Eddie asks, grinning as he leans in and exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve can't help snorting at the sight. "Whatever. Just call me what you want, Eddie," he says.

He tries to ignore the weird swooping in his stomach when Eddie's smile gets wider and he says, "You better not regret it, Stevie."

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Dale Story #1

The day started with me digging up cactus. Grandpa Dale had a weird beef with cactuses, bad enough to pay me 10 cents for every pound I turned in. Looking back at it, I think they offended him because they could exist without his consent: They didn't need his water, they didn't need his fertilizer, and they certainly didn't need his permission. 

And that, he simply could not abide. 

Grandpa Dale had been doing something weird that whole morning. I knew because I'd been able to watch him since sunrise. Every time I took a break from digging cactus to look back at the house, I saw him doing something with the gopher holes. 

That made me nervous. Things never went well when he started messing with the gophers.  Earlier that month he'd tried gassing them out, and all he got from that effort was nasty looking blisters up both arms. He almost never complained about anything, but he griped all day about how bad those blisters hurt. When his wife suggested that he go to the hospital he said No, what am I gonna tell them? That my trench got overrun? They wouldn't buy that. They'd think I was cooking meth. 

Which was funny to hear, but also, true, and also, enough for me to know better than to get involved in future gopher battles. 

Which is to admit that I did get involved. But I should've known better. A few hours in, he invited me over, gave me a cold soda, and showed me what he had set up: Two camping chairs, a wicked sharp shovel, a car battery, and a long length of copper wire leading to a pit he'd dug in the middle of the yard. Told me that if I stayed a bit and took a break, cooled down there with a soda in the shade, I'd see something amazing. I asked him if there was even a chance I could get hurt by this "something amazing", and he said "no," which I knew was a bald faced lie. But I believed him because I wanted to believe him. Because I wanted to know what he'd done, and I wanted to sit there in the shade with my grandpa. I also figured, hey, maybe getting gassed taught him a lesson. 

(Never, ever assume that the kind of person willing to break out chemical weapons against gophers is capable of being taught a lesson.) 

So I sat down in my chair and he beamed at that. He loved having an audience. Then I watched him lean forward and tap the ends of the wire against the battery terminals.

And that's where everything went wrong.  

The first thing that hit me was the yard itself. Little bits of sand and grit flying fast enough to hit my skin and bite. It took a year and change for all the little bits to work their way out. But I didn't even feel it at the time, because of what happened after. 

I genuinely think he'd imagined the gophers getting launched out of the holes, disoriented but alive. I think that shovel was there to finish them off afterwards. Which also would've been traumatizing, but probably less so than watching each of those cute little gopher holes projectile vomit bloody piles of tattered critter all over the lawn. 

Which, spoiler alert, is exactly what happened. The sky fell down, and the ground flew up, and the gophers found themselves with nowhere to go. So they did the next best thing and went a little bit everywhere.

I don't think it was actually silent afterwards, but I couldn't hear shit. There was just this long, ringing period of us looking at each other, then the meat piles, then the lawn crater, then the big buckled section of yard that looked oddly like Rockies just behind us, then back to each other. 

I think I did that two or three times before I felt my shoulders start to shake a little. I was crying. Felt weird to cry and not be able to hear it. Like a tic almost, or the way your body seizes up right before you puke. 

And then I looked at his face, and I saw him mouth a single soundless word: 

Shit.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.

Request from here.

The minute you brought up the idea, Simon was on board, ready to dish out whatever money he needed to spoil his princess. It seemed like a win-win: you get new lingerie and he gets the benefit of picking out a few items that only he would get to see you in. How could he ever say no to something like that?

The first day you were both off you headed out to the local mall, ready to go on a different kind of mission, one that already had Simon salivating and itching to finish so you both could get back with the items in hand. You did promise that as soon as you got home you’d model them for him and there was no doubt what would inevitably come next.

Walking into the Victoria’s Secret all 6’4” of Simon drew a few stares, but he didn’t care; he was focused on you just as he was any time you two went anywhere. Arms wrapped around your middle to hold your back against his chest as you both slowly made your way through the store.

“Remember, it’s what you want to see me in,” you reiterated the rules for this excursion.

“Best believe I remembered, luv,” he said, his gravely voice hitting you ear just right to make you shiver with anticipation. “Haven’t been able to think of fuck all else since you brought it up, but I think that was your fuckin’ plan.”

You passed by several things that you were sure he would have picked up, you did say anything so nothing was off limits and that included whatever string number he may want to strap you in. The point was to get him excited to chose the bit of wrapping he wanted around his present, not that he needed it. He’d take you in a trash bag and still think you were the hottest piece of tail around.

A severe lack of Simon around your body broke you out of your thoughts as he had let you go to walk over to a display off to the left of you. The way he locked on, it was clear something had caught his eye and you followed him over just as he picked up a bra and pantie set and handed them over to you.

Baby pink with a bit of delicate lace lining the top of the cups, a tiny silken bow in the middle along the rib band and the same matching bikini style panties that had a slightly larger bow on the back, that was his choice. It was very sweet and dainty, something a very soft girl would pick for herself.

“Really? This one?” you questioned, eyebrow raised curiously.

“You said to pick one I liked,” he said. “I like this one. Is that a problem, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t a bad choice at all, just surprising. Never would you have imagined Simon pick something so...quaint. In fact you were sure he would have gone straight for the string thongs or see-thru lace bras, so when he chose that one it caught you off guard.

“Not at all, just didn’t think you liked that sort of style,” you backpedaled, not wanting him to think he screwed up.

“I can like pretty shit too, luv. After all, I chose you, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “This is what I want to see coverin’ across that sweet arse of yours... well, until I get to admire it layin’ on my floor.”

Your cheeks flushed bright red. Fuck, how did he always do that? “I was the one that did the choosing,” you pushed the subject as you tried to dissipate the heat in your face.

“Oh, is that so?” he shot back coolly, moving back in close to take your chin in his firm grasp. “The one that still gets nervous probably wasn’t the one callin’ the fuckin’ the shots. Don’t force me to make that blush brighter just to prove my point, luv.”

Touche, he had won this round; you knew he would too, screw being in public. He wasn’t afraid of people staring as they had been staring at him his whole life, might well enjoy himself while he drew the eyes. You gave in and backed down, receiving a quick peck on your lips for your troubles.

“Now, let me finish my shoppin’ so that we can get outta here and get to the actual fun part,” he said with a smirk.

Lord, he was insatiable. That man could have your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still be hungry for more.

Going through the rest of the place another similar set he found after a bit more of searching, this one a pale yellow with a little silk flower in the same places the bow was on the first set. He handed over everything over to you so that you could double check the sizes and make sure it was correct before he took it back so that he could pay.

Always the gentleman to his girl.

That large palm was plastered to your inner thigh the entire drive back and every now and again he gave it a squeeze. His mind raced as his imagination ran wild with images of what you’d look like in his purchases: beautiful? Always, but these pieces were more delicate than the others you had and so he was curious to see just how pretty you’d look in them.

“You ready?” you asked through the door.

Once you got back, you left him sitting in his chair as you went off into the bathroom to get changed. He had chosen the yellow to go first, saving his real favorite for last. As you slipped everything around your curves, you had to admit that it was actually really cute and surprisingly not too uncomfortable as well.

Good job baby.

“Get out here now, beautiful girl,” he called back.

Opening the door slowly, you stepped out and sauntered your way to him, stopping just shy of the tips of his boots. Placing your hands behind your back, you stood twisting your body back and forth as you let him admire his choice.

Silently Simon eyed you up and down, taking you all in. “Well?” you asked after a moment.

Eyes came back up to meet your own. “Do a spin for me, darlin’,” he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. “Slow like.”

Turning around smoothly at a steady pace, you came all the back around until you were facing him again. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked to your body.

“What’s the verdict?” you asked again.

The corner of his mouth unturned. “I’ve got good taste,” he smirked. “Exactly what I fuckin’ wanted. You look amazing, sweetheart.”

His approval made you smile, excited that he liked it, even though you knew he would since he was the one to pick it out. That obsessive stare gave you new life; who wouldn’t want to be the object of Simon’s desire? “Should I try on the other one now?”

Simon nodded his head as he adjusted the crotch of his pants and you scurried back off to the bathroom to change, fueled by his intense interest in you.

The pink on slipped on just as easy and you actually enjoyed this one even more as it enhanced your skin tone to perfection and the little details were so sweet you knew why this one would be his favorite; you could hardly wait to go show him how good you looked.

Coming back out again you nearly ran straight into him as this time he was leaning against the door frame as if waiting for you. He didn’t say a word, but you swore you could hear his breath hitch in his chest as he gazed down at you in that soft little pink number. Calloused fingers came up to trace over the thin ribbon detail, following the curves of the mini bow in the center of your chest.

“This one I really fuckin’ like, sweetheart,” he purred in that gruff, low tone that set you alight.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing in your veins already. “I have to admit you did really good baby,” you said. “Never thought you’d pick something so pretty.”

Fingers traced the line of the band under your breast along your ribcage before they came back up. “Like you in pretty, sweet things,” he said, slipping a thick finger into the top of the band between the cups. “Bows and flowers, light colors, that sort of shit. Suits you best, luv.”

“Aww,” you picked at him. “You going soft on me?”

That finger fully hooked itself into the fabric between your breasts and pulled you forward, making you take a step to bring you in closer until you were flush against his chest. Those amber eyes shimmered as he tilted his head down close to your neck. “All the shit I’ve to deal with at work, don’t ya wanna give this bastard somethin’ beautiful to touch?”

Well, when he put it like that…how could you deny him?

“My pretty little thing, so goddamn sweet,” he said with a groan, exploring hands releasing your bra so that they could run down the line of your back towards your hips before coming to a stop just under the curve of your ass. He cupped the cheeks one in each hand, massaging the meat in a circular motion.

Hungry lips embraced your neck, quick, burning kisses connecting with the skin to leave a trail of fire where he went. His arousal was already pressing up against your thigh as his hands on your ass squeezed harder; he had been worked up all day and seeing you all pretty for him it pushed him over the edge.

“Just wanna fuckin’ corrupt my little flower, ruin her pretty petals with my fat cock,” he breathed against the nape of your neck. His warm breath wafted down your collar bone to the tops of your breasts, making the skin pinprick with goose pimples while his words worked on your nerves to send you into a tailspin.

Were you supposed to stay sane after that? Because it just got really, really hard to think straight. “Yes,” was the only word your mind could form and you moaned it against the side of his head.

Fingers flitted around the waistband of your panties, outlining the band around your hips before it found the band descending between your legs; he followed that with his fingertips as well. “Mmmm, my beautiful girl, you know no one else even comes close?” he groaned. “Got the prettiest little thing around. Sets me on fuckin’ fire, how lucky I am to have such dainty thing at my disposal.”

Desperation gathered in his movements as he pawed at your body, causing you to respond to him as all your nerve ends across your skin began to ignite like he had just lit a match.

Without warning you were picked up and brought over to the bed where he set you down carefully along the edge. In an instant he had dropped down to his knees before you, one large hand gathered at the back of your head to pull you into his face so that he could press his lips desperately to yours. Wet, aggressive kisses he greedily stole from your mouth over and over again as he moved up into you.

“Lean back for me, darlin',” he said against your mouth.

Releasing you from his grasp you did as Simon said, laying back on your elbows so that you could still watch him. Hands on your parted thighs to steady himself, he swooped in. His face was at your pubic bone and he opened his mouth, collecting the waist of your panties in his teeth before he was pulling them down your legs, undressing you completely without the use of his hands.

Well damn, you had been curious to see how good they’d look on the floor since he had brought it up, but who could have predicted that they would look exquisite in between his teeth?

…Definitely a good choice indeed.

[dinogoofymutated]

ik you just wrote for Kurt but if I could request some sfw headcanons for him? 👉🏽👈🏽 he'd be such a cuddly man especially with that tail of his

Sfw! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

YES OFC!!! I was just thinking about this !! With how cuddly he was in the latest episode it had me all giddy and shit AAUGHH!! THIS MAN!!!

I also may or may not have gotten carried away with the fic half of this because I'm actually in love with him.

-Ps- @bl1ngringz You sent an ask for more Kurt, and I'm working on more but I figured I'd tag you in this one!

TWs: none that I can think of atm.

Touch is 100% one of Kurt’s love languages. If you're close to him, he's going to be touching you in one way or another

He really likes to wrap his tail around your waist to pull you closer to him, and it's always surprising because how is his tail that strong?? The sensation of his tail being wrapped around you in one shape or form starts to become such a comforting sensation.

If you're anxious and picking and your fingers in a social situation, he'll take hold of your hand and press a kiss to your palm, and if you're less comfortable with pda, he'll snake his tail in between your hands instead. Afterwards he always checks your hands and cuticles, just in case.

Sometimes he'll have really rough days and will just really need you to hold him. He'll teleport you out of your office if he feels like you've been gone too long and he starts to worry about you. It's surprising at first, but you quickly get over it when the furball snuggles into you, quietly pouting about how long you've been gone. It's easy to tell other things are on his mind, but you know he enjoys the silence when you choose not to press him, and simply hold him tightly.

Kurt isn't just a cuddle bug. He's a cuddle MONSTER. On the couch? He'll plop down on top of you, falling asleep on you like a cat who only ever manages to fall asleep right when you need to pee. In bed? Again, no pee breaks. He usually has such a tight grip on you, only able to fall asleep buried in your arms. It doesn't matter how hot it is, if you roll away he'll feel bad. He knows you don't hate him and that you're just moving in your sleep but :( come back. He can't sleep without you!

You wouldn’t consider yourself a morning person, but sometimes you’d wake up and simply be too restless to fall back asleep. Sometimes it was anxiety, other times excitement, but today you woke up simply content. Kurt’s arms were wrapped around you loosely, which was a surprise. He’s normally fully wrapped around you, limbs tangled tightly with your own, tail wound around your wrist, ankle, or hand in his sleep. You smile as you turn around, brushing hair out of his face. He doesn’t even stir, nor lean into the warmth of your hand. You’d be freaking out if it weren’t for his steady breathing, but the two of you had a rough couple of days. If he’s sleeping this deeply, he deserves the rest.

It’s easy to slide out of his arms, quietly padding out of the bedroom barefooted. You flinch when you reach the cold wood floors of the hallway, early spring still inconsistent with its bouts of cold weather. After quietly closing the door, you make your way to the living room on the search for a pair of slippers. You had a bad habit of losing them, sometimes stealing Kurt’s instead, but you find yours set aside neatly. You smile as you slip them on, knowing that you most certainly weren’t the one who put them there.

It’s still dark outside when you start to preheat the oven, and you know you must be up way too early. You laugh a little, with how early Kurt tends to rise, you can only imagine the time. You glance at the oven clock and notice it’s a little after 5 am. You grimace just a little, deciding to ignore it for now. Might as well make breakfast.

You feel like you’ve forgotten how to make breakfast food. Kurt always manages to beat you to it, waking you up in the morning with the smell of coffee and baked goods. You used to feel bad about it, telling him that he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have to go through with the effort. You felt guilty about such a simple thing, feeling like an inconvenience to him. That feeling didn’t last long, however. Kurt had insisted that you were worth the effort, worth his love, and much more. You don’t fight him on it anymore, having taken over lunch preparations instead. He still tries to beat you to that too, though. It’s become a competition as of late, and you smile in a giddy manner, excited to see his pout when he realizes you managed to beat him to breakfast.

    The sun has risen by the time you’ve finished the biscuits and set them out to cool. You’re scrambling some eggs when a tail wraps around your waist and a warm chest presses against your back. Kurt nuzzles into your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. 

    “Guten morgen.” His morning voice is groggy, and to be honest, he sounds like he’s about to fall back asleep right here in the kitchen, holding onto you like a pillow.

“Good morning,” You giggle, turning your head to kiss him sweetly. He’s pouting when you pull away, leaning his cheek on your shoulder.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.” Kurt mopes. You mimic his pout with a poorly hidden smile, kissing him a few more times. They were chaste, as you didn't want to get distracted and burn the eggs.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn't want to wake you up.” You turn your attention back to the eggs in the pan, and Kurt sighs dramatically at your words, beginning to smile a bit himself. You see an arm sneakily reach over to take the spatula out of your hands, but you’re quick to hold it away from him. He smiles widely when he’s caught, pulling you flush to his chest as he tries to snatch it again with his other hand.

“No!” You giggle. “Kurt, stop it! I’m not letting you finish the eggs!” You may have the willpower to keep the spatula away, but Kurt still has the upper hand with longer arms and an extra limb. His laughs are infectious and he fights you for the utensil.

“Penance, then! For leaving me in a cold bed, I could have gotten sick, you know?” You gasp as Kurt manages to slip the spatula from your grasp. He rejoices in victory, holding it above your head as he turns back to the eggs. He kisses you on the cheek, holding you squarely in his grasp as he finishes breakfast for you, as he always does.

Today was a good morning indeed.