#diverse kid lit

[wizard-legs]

*~Arsonist Extraordinaire!~*

(This illustration is about a year old, but I never got around to posting my thesis work and I figured.. now’s a good a time as any! This is 1 of 6 fantasy circus posters- stay tuned for the rest, and a short comic!)

[jlshifflett]

If you're tired of Harry Potter and JK Terfling, then you should REALLY read Dhonielle Clayton's "The Marvellers" bc it's amazing and trans inclusive and centers a Black girl from New Orleans and has the most fantastic magic and magical world commentary. It's so good. Read it!!!

[elizabethsnuts]

So I don't know if you've seen spy kids 3, but basically there's a scene where the mum has to go on a mission with her baby because she has no baby sitter and she just carries her in a baby carrier. The scene is low-key badass. Anyway, I was wondering if you could do something like that for winterwidows daughter. Like they have no one to babysit her and she has to go on the mission with her parents.

P.S. I love your work.

Family Mission

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Bucky have no babysitter for you so they have no choice but to bring you on a mission to take down a HYDRA base.

A/N: Thank you for all the support on my work! It really means a lot to me that others enjoy reading it. It was my one year posting on tumblr a couple days ago, happy late tumblr birthday to me!

———

The morning sun filtered through the Avengers kitchen, casting a warm glow around the room where Bucky was finishing his coffee. Natasha, who was already dressed in her black tactical suit, was adjusting the baby carrier strapped to her chest, inside the carrier was you, gazing up at your mother with wide, curious eyes, cooing softly.

Bucky approached the two of you, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight. "Are you sure about this, Nat? Bringing Y/N along on a mission?"

Natasha gave him a reassuring smile. "We don't have much choice, do we? We can’t just keep her here by herself. Besides she’ll be looking at me the whole time."

Bucky leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. "Alright, we’ll keep her safe."

———

You all quickly boarded the Quinjet, where Tony was pacing the floor. Steve and Clint were gathered around a large holographic display of their mission target: a HYDRA base nestled in the Siberian wilderness.

Tony glanced up as Bucky and Natasha entered, you looked over to Tony with your little legs swinging in the carrier. "Well, look who's here. And they brought a little guest." His tone was a mix of amusement and surprise.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Y/N? Are you sure about this?"

"We don't have a babysitter," Natasha said with a hint of defiance. "We'll manage."

You were secured in your carrier, staring at the flashing lights and buttons inside the jet, your tiny hands reaching out to grab at the air. Natasha couldn't help but smile at your innocence. Bucky sat beside the two of you, keeping a watchful eye on both his family and the surroundings.

The Quinjet hummed as it sliced through the sky, descending towards the snow-covered landscape of Siberia. As they approached the drop zone, Tony ran through the plan one last time. "Alright, Natasha, Bucky, you're with me. Clint, Steve, Thor, you take the north entrance."

The team split into their assigned groups. Natasha and Bucky, with you securely strapped to Natasha's chest, moved stealthily through the forest. The snow crunched softly under their boots as they approached the base's southern entrance.

You played with the little beanie on your head, giggling quietly as you touched the fuzzy pom-pom. Natasha looked down and smiled at your happy mood, though her face had a hint of worry.

The team were able to hack into the security system, disabling the cameras and unlocking the doors.

"We're in," Steve whispered through the comms.

"Okay, Malyshka," Natasha whispered, adjusting the sound-dampening headphones over your little ears. "Time to be a good girl for Mama and Daddy."

You giggled and waved your tiny hands around as if you were part of the mission. You had no idea what was going on but you liked going on an adventure with your parents.

The three of you slipped into the shadows, Bucky’s eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. Natasha moved silently, her skills honed from years of time in the Red Room. Your presence, surprisingly, didn’t hinder her. Instead, it seemed to sharpen her focus, giving her a greater purpose which was to keep you safe.

Inside the base, the corridors were eerily quiet while dimly lit. The team had done their job well, creating diversions and taking out patrols. Bucky and Natasha moved methodically, their silent communication seamless.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Natasha whispered to you, her lips curving into a smile.

As the central control room became closer into view, you began to babble softly, your eyes wide with curiosity. Natasha glanced down and smiled. "Almost there, Dorogoy," she whispered.

Bucky placed a small charge on the door, and they waited for the soft beep indicating it was ready. With a nod, the door blew open, and they rushed inside.

Alarms blared throughout the base. HYDRA reinforcements were closing in fast. Natasha and Bucky moved swiftly, taking down enemies with a coordinated dance of skill and precision. You in your carrier, just watched Natasha with a smile on your little face, your tiny hands clapping at the flashes of movement, oblivious to the danger.

With the last of the Hydra agents taken down, Natasha and Bucky quickly began gathering data from the computers. Steve’s voice crackled over the comms. "Status?"

"All clear," Natasha replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "We’ve got the data."

Navigating through the maze of corridors, they reached the exit quickly and ran back into the snowy forest.

“Mama!” You giggled, your little fingers tangled in her hair as flakes of snow hit your little pink cheeks.

Natasha laughed and kissed your head. “You did your first mission! You did so well!”

———

Back on the Quinjet, as they soared towards home, Natasha leaned back in her seat, exhausted but relieved. You, now sleepy, nestled against your mother's chest, your tiny hand gripping Natasha's suit.

"You did great today, baby," Natasha whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You babbled sleepily and closed your eyes, now feeling all warm in safe in Natasha’s arms. You loved the little adventure you had today.

[rebo-chan]

I've been thinking about KHR's bonds. (When am I not?) And I've thought about the way that Amano likes to write bonds. You'd be pressed in this fandom to find people who don't care about at least one area of it whether that's the Vongola kids, Varia, the Arcobaleno, Kokuyo, etc. After a conversation with my best friend, I realized it's kinda interesting how Amano has somehow successfully created so many realistic bonds for such a diverse cast. Like we see so little of them, but you'd be pressed to convince the KHR fans that the funeral wreaths don't adore Byakuran.

So there's the thing right? Katekyo hitman reborn is the shonen that is 100% about the power of friendship. Like yes other shounens use it and its a meme for a reason, but they also have other stuff going on. Other motivations. Other theming. Meanwhile Tsuna growing up and becoming a better person for his friends /is/ the theme of Reborn. That is the entire motivation for the series. There's no grandiose scheme where Tsuna will save the Mafia world and be the chosen one, though the series tries to put Tsuna in this position to his chagrin.

As evidenced by the scene in Future arc, where Tsuna is unable to light his ring because he is so stressed about sending everyone back to the future and fighting this unknown powerful enemy. And so Reborn walks up and tells him "You're not a hero. Stop trying to be. It's not like you. What were you thinking about when you first lit your flame?" And he responded with "I just..wanted to protect Kyoko." Reborn satisfied with that answer then asks, "And who do you want to protect now?" And Tsuna answers with "Everyone." And then his ring lit up. That's the core to the series!! Right there!! All it ever was 403 chapters worth of these characters just wanting to protect each other.

So, in talking to my best friend, he pointed out that outside of daily life arc, these characters don't really have moments of vulnerability towards each other. Frankly, it seems the cast of KHR is allergic to being vulnerable. There aren't that many scenes of "you guys are important to me. I love you guys." Y'know stuff that tells the audience yeah these guys are close. And when Tsuna TRIES to have these moments, like with Reborn, Reborn pretends like he's asleep and doesn't hear Tsuna say that he's going to save him. Yet somehow, we all understand that these characters love each other so deeply.

And that made me realize it's all in the dialogue and actions, rather than inherent bonding moments. It's Reborn clenching his fist when Tsuna is getting gravely injured by Daemon. It's Yamamoto and Gokudera having a fight about Gokudera not being worthy of being Tsunas right hand man as Gokudera doesn't care for the other members of their family. And Gokudera never addressing this again, there's no verbal indication that Gokudera even heard Yamamotos criticism. Yet later during Merone invasion, Gokudera reaches a hand out to catch Yamamoto when they're getting separated. And later, he protects Ryoheis unconscious body as he is fighting Gamma to the death. It's Byakuran saving the funeral wreaths from their miserable lives and them protecting him even when he begins to strike them down. It's the way Mukuro runs to assist Chrome when she is in danger, or swears up and down that he is not allied with Tsuna but also feeds the Vongola information about Byakuran. It's the way Squalo refuses to cut his hair for his vow to Xanxus, or Mammon's gratitude towards Xanxus's willingness to fight for them. It's Ken ensuring that Chrome is always fed by giving her the snacks and candy they bought. These characters don't need bonding moments, their love for each other shines through their every breath and finger twitch.

And I think that's a fascinating way to write a connection on Amanos behalf. And it was done so well we can't even argue that these characters all love each other.

The way I summarized it is most characters love each other because they spend time together and improve together. KHR characters spend time together and get better together because they love each other

Anyway that's it for this one. Please let me know any dialogue/actions that drive you guys mad about these characters 👀 I know this series is full of them.

[yourfavepookiebear]

This is my first time making a request so sorry if this makes no sense.

Self aware Twisted Wonderland with a player who randomly gets transported into their world. For Characters I was thinking about Azul, Malleus, Leona, and Riddle.

If this is too much you can ignore it.

A/n : This request has been sitting in my inbox for 2 months so I decided to finally answer it 😭 also sorry anon, for the extremely late reply 😅 for some reason I feel like I'm writing a fairytale for kids or sum lmao, also I wrote this while simultaneously doing my homework jsyk , it took me a lit to write this if you can tell, but can you tell I wrote this in 2 different days ?

Cw: Leona being lazy and a bit unhinged, bad writing, short asf, not proofread, Riddle kinning pomeranians and chihuahas, Malleus just being Malleus, ooc, inaccurate character depiction

It's the day after Yuu appeared in twisted wonderland, the second day of school. (It's been a long time since I last played or read twisted wonderland so bear with me) for plot purposes and diversity, each character will have slightly different plot, like time and place.

◇ Leona Kingscholar

It was just another irritating day for Leona, as he was sleeping in the botanical gardens, skipping class as usual. His tail swished left to right, as he tried to fall asleep. For some reason though, much to his annoyance, he couldn't fall asleep. Normally he had no problem dozing off, but today was different. He grits his teeth and glares at air particles, then he sits upright and stares at a random direction. Suddenly he hears footsteps, and the familiar voice of Ruggie approaching his location.

Leona rolls his eyes just as Ruggie emerges, not even sparing him a glance. Ruggie sighs and walks towards Leona

"Hey Leona, I got your sandwich"

Ruggie then hands him a sandwich and glances at him

"What's wrong ? You seem pretty down-in-the-dumps today. Not that you're usually a ray of sunshine, but still."

Leona just huffs and plucks some grass from the ground, then answers

"I can't sleep."

Ruggie blinks owlishly, then tilts his head to the side

"Woah, THE Leona Kingscholar, unable to sleep ? That's a new one.."

"Tsk, whatever."

Is all Leona says, as he rolls his eyes and lays down on the grass once again, closing his eyes. Ruggie takes the hint and walks away, going back to wherever he came from.

About an hour later, Leona wakes up to the sound of footsteps, yet this time they're not Ruggie's. In fact, they're not familiar at all..

Leona opens his eyes but stays still, a bit curious to know who this mysterious person is. On one side he doesn't give a shit, but on another side he's curious because, just what could a stranger be possibly doing at NRC ?

Suddenly someone jumps on top of him, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. He jolts awake, bewildered and shocked.

"What the-"

His eyes widen as he recognizes the person who's crushing him with their weight..holy shit, what the hell is the player doing here ???

"Player ?"

He says, baffled, he genuinely doesn't know how to react. One minute he was peacefully sleeping, the other he wakes up to the player suddenly spawning on top of him ?? His thought process is cut off as his ears are flooded with high-pitched screaming and shrieking

"OH MY LORD, LEONA ????? AM I DREAMING ?? HES SO MUCH HOTTER IN PERSON OMFG"

He blinks, once, twice, thrice, his mouth open and his eyes wide, his ears twitching

"Player ?? What..."

(I'm gonna end it here becuz Im lazy asf and I have to go sleep soon, the rest is up to you and your imagination sorry pookies)

◇ Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is in the mostro lounge, he finishes making a deal with some random student, he bids them goodbye with that shady smile plastered on his face, and as soon as they leave he looks over to the clock. 7pm, it's still early yet it's already dark outside. He sighs and grabs his stuff, preparing to go back to his dorm room. Suddenly, he feels something brushing against his leg. He frowns and looks around, confused as to what it may be.

He hopes its not a prank from the twins, as he shrugs it off and continues what he was doing, until he feels it again.

He gets up from his office chair and looks under his desk, only to find...

What ? There's someone asleep under his desk ?? He pulls them out from under his desk, and immediately recognizes that face. It's the player !

He is absolutely baffled. How did the player randomly spawn under his office desk, asleep and in pajamas ?? This is very confusing..

◇ Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle was in his room, studying whatever the hell subjects they have in nrc.

He gets up to go drink a cup of natural mineral water with a 100% recycled bottle, then somehow trips on something.

He looks down and jumps 10 meters back, eyes blown wide as saucers and lets out the loudest and longest scream on earth, so loud that even I am put to shame.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"

Somehow though, for plot purposes, no one hears him. Tatatatata, he looks over at the thing that was on the floor and is shocked to see you, the player, asleep on his floor, snoring like, so hard every single one of the prehistoric cavemen (Leona included) would lower their heads in respect.

(Anyways skip I'm lazy)

◇ Malleus Draconia

As we all know, Malleus loves walking around at night, and that makes a lot of people think he's some insane psychopath who's gonna stalk them then impale them with his horns.

After his nightly walk he came back to Diasomnia dorm just to find, you, aka the player and the one he thinks of so religiously every single day. He takes a step towards you, which isn't a lot since he's at the start of a hallway and you're at the end but whatever.

And that was his first mistake. Lo and behold there were you, at the end of the dark ass hallway, staring at him like you just witnessed some middle aged guy take off his pants and wip out his d*ck, then smack you across the face with it, oh and as if it was so long Drake would be put to shame.

You screamed like a banshee and ran away as if you were being chased by Drake's pipe.

Then you yelled out louder than Leona's snoring "MAMA MIA WHAT IN THE EVERLOVING WILLY WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE" -Player's last words, may they rest in peace and remain forever remembered.

Jkjk you just ran into the wall and passed out. And Lilia was just watching the whole time and laughing his ass off. But you made Malleus sad tho :(

You woke up in Malleus's bedroom after having a nightmare about Drake's elevator.

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Whatcha Doin' Step Bro

*Part 2*

Read Part 1 Here

Pairing: Harry Styles // Y/N (Step-Sibling EU)

Word Count: ~ 9k words

🔞WARNINGS🔞: adult language, rough smut, degradation, overstimulation, references to a filthy masturbation session, sexual fantasies involving a step sibling, inappropriate touching between step siblings, dom!harry, sub!y/n, cum fetish, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected p-in-v

[y/m/n=your middle name; if you don’t have one, you can just ignore it 😊]

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the thing. How wet his dick was, how he knew you were there at the doorway, the way he looked at you…and he just…came all over himself. You speed through your neighborhood streets to sink yourself into the realm of retail. It’s meant to be a distraction—a visual diversion to get your mind off of Harry and his dripping cock. But it’s as if a part of your subconscious is holding a marathon of your short-term memory, and the past 15 minutes loops on a suspiciously high-definition projector inside of your brain…

You wake up. Harry isn’t shitting on your day 1st thing in the morning. Life seems livable for an hour or so. You think it’s strange, but you want to savor it while you still can. As if he could sense your state of ease, Harry yells for you from his bedroom. You reluctantly decide to check on him. Being well-mannered, you knock on his door before entering. He responds strangely. Your imagination has brought you to dire conclusions. You open the door, growing concerned for his well-being. Then, boom—you get front-row seats to see your step brother and his stupid, perfect cock, and after his cum finishes shooting out of him like lotion out of a pump, he has the audacity to assume you’d want to sample some.

He’s such a scumbag. What—does he think you’re in some kind of pure taboo, bratty-sis, family strokes, sis-loves-me video?! Not that you ever watch those…or even know what they are…

Who are you kidding—you’ve explored this fantasy in the privacy of your bedroom more times than you can count. Especially since the other day when Harry fingered you in the laundry room and left you before you could cum. You’re still mad about that, by the way. Right after it happened, you bolted for your room where you shut your door behind you, dropped to your knees on the floor, and rubbed at your clit to finish what he’d started. You muffled your moans with your free hand as you rode out your perpetual orgasms. It was pathetic how quickly you’d gotten yourself writhing and humping against your fingers to the sick imagery of your step brother savoring your natural lubricant from his fingers. You’d only ever dreamt of something like that coming to fruition. You’ve been entertaining yourself in this perverse land of daydreams for so long—pretending to be repulsed by your step brother and his malignant vulgarity. 

Meanwhile, your thoughts have progressively been plagued by filthy scenarios where you and your step brother participate in extremely inappropriate activities in places where it’s extremely likely for the two of you to get caught. The details aren’t too important…but they do change according to whatever Harry chooses to say and/or do to you each day. 

For example—one time, it was late and you’d just arrived back home from a friend’s house. As you tiptoed across the first floor towards the main staircase, you were spooked by the sudden noise of someone clearing their throat in the living room. You froze and whipped your head in the direction where it came from, squinting in the darkness to try and identify any odd shapes or shadows. Then a phone screen lit up to illuminate his face. Harry’s face. Easily startled, you sucked in a gasp and knocked your elbow against the wooden railing. You clutched onto your arm to self-soothe and tried to hold in an echoing yelp. “Ouch…! Harryyy!” You whisper-yelled. Your eyes darted back to him as if he’d been the one to directly cause you harm. He wasn’t even looking at you; rather, he was pretending to be occupied with his device as if he was completely unaware of your presence. Prick. You knew he was up to something.

“Harry!” You hiss, slowly approaching him near the sofa.

That was when he finally acknowledged you by lazily lifting his gaze to travel up your figure, taking his sweet time in doing so. “Oh…you’re home.” His voice was both dull and bitter in its tone. You sensed more tension in the room than usual, and you wondered what sort of fight he was trying to pick at 2 o’clock in the goddamned morning. While you were sleepily making sense of the situation in your head, Harry went ahead and gave you a hefty clue as to why he seemed so peeved. 

“So, how’d it go with what’s-his-nuts?” He shut his phone off before reaching beside him and clicking a lamp on. It took a few uncomfortable seconds for your eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. Due to the unpleasant combination of drowsiness, the lingering sting on your funny-bone, and the overall irritation climbing up your spine from Harry preventing you from going straight to sleep, you answered his stupid question with pure impatience. “His name is Max, and I had a lot of fun, actually.” You ended your statement with a sigh. The sound came off as more of a swooning sigh, but that was completely unintentional. You were just exhausted and you honestly didn’t feel like staying up even later just for your step brother to tease you about a guy you just hung out with.  “Ah, I see…” he hummed, staring you and your body down as if it were his property to defend.

Max was just a friend, but Harry wasn’t convinced of that. It certainly didn’t help matters that you’d returned home so late wearing the not-so-conservative outfit you’d chosen to wear. 

But you'd only participated in a movie marathon, and you both just lost track of time. Honestly—that was it. Sure, there may be a possibility that Max has a little crush on you. But he’s never tried to make a move on you or cross any boundaries. He’s nothing but a kind, funny, respectful gentleman towards you, and you value his friendship. 

Harry has met him in person a few times and he’s always put on this protective older brother persona as some intimidation tactic to make Max nervous whenever he comes over. It’s like he’s a jealous boyfriend or something, except he’s your step brother, and he essentially has no valid reason to act the way he does. Regardless, you still had to put up with the grump and his accusatory attitude after every interaction you have with your friend.

“…Hope you kids at least used protection…” Harry’s expression grew even more resentful, but to his surprise, your face immediately reflected the same. “Wha—what the fuck, Harry?!” You whisper-yelled, stomping all the way towards him with your arms crossed over your middle. The man just propped his leg upon his opposite knee and huffed in disbelief. “Oh, c’mon, Y/N. Don’t play coy w’me. Everyone knows he’s dying to fuck you—” 

“—Stop! He is not!”

“Ok. Keep tellin’ y’self that, babe—”

“—Don’t fucking call me that.” You held out an accusatory finger at him.

“Oi, whatever. I just hope he’s got a fresh box of Trojans at his place.” You made a face at him. “Ugh, just shut up, Harry.” 

He hummed, dropping his leg down so he could spread his knees wide and sit back against the couch cushion with his hands behind his head. “Hmm…oh, by the way…” He slowly stood to his feet, towering over you as if he were twice your size. You felt the remnants of whatever power or tenacity you had slip from your lips in a tiny whimper as his chest brushed against yours and your nipples perked up at the contact even through the layers of your clothing. You swallowed dryly. The lack of decent moisture in your mouth almost made you choke.

Harry leant down so his lips and stubble tickled your cheek. “…Don’t you ever tell me what I’m allowed to call you. I can speak to you however the fuck I want. You understand me?” His voice was deep and harsh, his accent thick. It only got like that when he was serious. I guess this was one of those times. Your heart sunk to the floor. He carefully pulled away and you were actually quite aroused by his display of dominance…at first. 

Your step brother was just trying to get a rise out of you. His method of doing so was really fucking hot and you desperately wanted to be a good girl so he’d reward you later…but that’s not what this was. No. Harry wanted to use your crush on him to his advantage. But guess what? You weren’t gonna let Harry walk all over you. Not when he got to have his fun making his way around the neighborhood with all the desperate housewives and their newly divorced 40-something friends. 

He acted like he wanted you—like you were his. Except he was only interested in bedding the local cougars and milfs. You weren't either of those things…i.e.: you weren’t his type. And so why would you want to waste your time sneaking around with your STEP BROTHER, of all people, when he’d just humiliate you and leave you for someone more experienced anyway? It wasn’t worth the pain of rejection nor the embarrassment once mom and dad would eventually find out. 

And so, instead of putting on your ‘good girl’ act, you glared at him. “HA! I don’t think so, you asshole. Fuck off!” Your voice was a bit more amplified than intended, but it didn’t seem to stir any commotion upstairs. Phew…

Harry, however, seemed to think you were a ticking time-bomb. Clasping a palm over your mouth as his other hand held the back of your neck over your hair, he shushed you and held you still whilst you struggled against his firm hold with flailing, combative arms. Your eyes were wide, your brows scrunched in frustration, and every muffled whine and grunt only further entertained Harry as he chuckled and held you tighter.

You pried his fingers off your lips just long enough to spit out the words, “L-Let go of m-me…you idiot!”

Harry laughed and replaced his fingers over your mouth where he previously had them. “And what are you gonna do ‘bout it, you little brat?” His lips curved up into a sneer. If you had the energy, you’d pounce right back at Harry and claw at those stupid fucking dimples until they were unrecognizable due to the scratches. Alas, your eyelids were becoming heavier with each blink and you were close to collapsing onto the floor. The two of you just stared at each other for a few dragging moments, quietly contemplating one another’s next move. But lack of energy was getting the best of both of you. Harry’s grip was weakening and your legs were wobbly. 

You used the last ounce of oomph you had left to shut your step brother up for the night. Shuffling your feet, you nudged Harry backwards until he fell back onto his plush chair. You then stood right in between his spread legs, leaned down until your face was level with his—your hands on either one of his knees, slowly sliding up his meaty thighs and gently squeezing and raking your smooth nails up and down his sweatpant-clad legs. You never took your eyes off of him, but he allowed his eyes to drift down to your heaving tits which threatened to spill out of your tube top and bra, and then downwards to watch as your dainty fingertips and thumbs dared to graze his growing bulge. You fluttered your long, wispy eyelashes—your eyes dreamy and sleepy, but intoxicating nonetheless—and the words that flowed from your delicious, pink tongue into Harry’s entranced ears escaped your lips like they were silk ribbons caught in the breeze.

“Fine, Harry. Maybe I did let Max fuck me tonight…” Bluffing. Harry’s jaw tightened and you could see how hard he was clenching his teeth by how his veins by his temples were more visible. A smile was tugging on the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t want to blow it. So you continued, “…But I think what really got him going was when I told him I’m on birth control…” You grinned as your words drained the remaining seafoam green from his irises to make more room for his expansive pupils. Harry’s lips separated and his chest was rising and falling quickly. “…And you know what, I can’t really blame him…” you paused and reached your hand up to his head, gently combing your fingers through his soft, already-tousled curls. His hands were twitching and straining on the chair’s armrests. Then, dipping your head next to his ear and lowering to a whisper, you said, “…I like it raw.” 

Harry huffed through his nose and smacked his head back against the cushion of his chair before he softly breathed out, “Fuck me…” 

After that night, you’d conjured up a new fantasy where it would’ve been you and Harry curled up on the couch watching a movie marathon. Except in this scenario, you imagined sharing a blanket where all you wore was a skimpy little night dress as Harry spooned you from behind to keep you warm. And then, once you’d finally started dozing off in his arms, he’d lift the hem up and slowly glide himself back and forth against your pussy lips, coating himself with your dampness before eventually pushing inside of you so that you could also keep him warm. After all, it’s only fair that you share with your big brother.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

Harry’s shameless display of sin and indecency, jerking his dick off while you watched, left you with nothing but your soaked underwear, pulsing clit, and of course, questions. Was all that cum…for you? Your heart quickens as you rewind time in your mind for the thousandth time to admire your memory of Harry in his state of arousal. You think back further to how things had escalated to that point. You still can’t believe it. Harry had really yelled out for you just so you could be in the room when he…Jesus Christ! And what were you going to do once you got back home?! How could you act like nothing ever happened when you’d not only been denied an orgasm the other day, but then forced to watch Harry pleasure himself—to what seemed to have been you. Also, what was he hoping would come out of all this, anyway? No pun intended. What if you had a friend over and both of you had been at his door?! Ugh, nevermind. He would’ve loved having a bigger audience for his cocksure production.

Strangely enough, you feel both embarrassed yet incredibly powerful at the same time. Thinking over the specifics in your head pushes you to the conclusion that all of that cum had been for you. And, god, he asked you if you wanted to taste it. What if you’d actually accepted? Just a little taste, you think to yourself. Your mouth salivates as you imagine your lips wrapped around Harry’s sticky fingers and your tongue licking them clean—just like they had back in that laundry room; except your taste buds would only detect him. You envision your step brother holding your hair back so that you can lap up the remainder that had landed onto his laurels and all the way up to his butterfly tattoo. He made such a big mess of himself. If he put on the show just for you, why shouldn’t you give him the basic courtesy of cleaning him up afterwards? You catch yourself pouting at the realization that all of his delicious cum had gone to waste. What a shame. If only you’d been more grateful. He just wanted to share—GAH! NO, Y/N! That’s your STEP-BROTHER! Yeah, watching him bust one out as his hungry eyes devour you through his orgasm…well, that’s pretty fucked up as it is! He’s played plenty of pranks on you in the past. Surely, you can just pass this off as another one…? Yeah, right! You’d never be able to look him in the eye ever again. You wouldn’t be able to open his goddamn bedroom door ever again! At least not without picturing him laying back against his bed frame, his eyes all soft and sleepy, his hair messy and stuck to his forehead…and his big hand sliding up and down his lubed-up cock…then that hot, white fluid squirted out from his tip over and over again until his balls were drained.

Harry’s orgasm didn't just look intense, it most-definitely was. You knew it because his toes curled and flexed, his balls tightened, he almost choked on the air in his throat, and his legs were shaking by the time cum was shooting out of him. Every stroke was so deliberate and strategic. His fist would tighten around the head of his shaft and twist, and you saw how that made his hips thrust up off of the bed in reflex. The size of his load was impressive, and it raises your body temperature to fantasize how it’d feel to have it pumping inside of you. You remember studying him and memorizing each movement as if you were preparing yourself for a future occasion where it would be your hands doing all the stroking…but you keep having to tell yourself that you and Harry could never let things get that far. You’ll just use these mental notes on some other guy later, maybe Max? Nevertheless, that shocking performance of self-pleasure will be burned into your memory forever. You’re certain of it.

You wish you were disgusted. You should be. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much, but your body refused to react negatively to witnessing your step brother perform such lewd acts on himself. Honestly, all you want to do now is go home to the privacy of your bedroom and do the same to yourself. To use the events from earlier as your inspiration. Doctors recommend masturbation for stress relief all the time, don’t they? A therapist, however, would definitely have a problem with you fantasizing about fucking your step brother. After all, it’s not exactly the most conventional family dynamic.

Whatever, it doesn’t even matter. What matters is that seeing Harry masturbating had awakened something animalistic inside of you that you never knew was there in the first place. You didn’t know how much you wanted a—nay—wanted Harry’s big, thick, drippy, heavy, gorgeous cock to empty hot loads of cum so deep inside of you that it wouldn’t come out until a day later. Well, you didn’t know how badly you wanted him to specifically stuff your cunt full of his seed until right now.

As you walk out of the store with your shopping bag and receipt, you feel your phone buzz in your purse. You assume it must be your dad or step-mom checking in to see how things are at home. Lifting the screen up to your face, you’re immediately proven incorrect. The notification is not from your parents, but rather from Harry. You’re met with the contact photo of him paired with his message that reads: 

“where u go, baby sis? 💔”

You scoff at his patronizing and just slide your phone back into your purse so you can continue browsing the shops. You couldn’t successfully distract yourself from Harry if you were texting him…it’s not like you’ve been thinking about him and his beautiful dick nonstop since you first left the house or anything…

*grumble-grumble*

Amidst all of your depraved sexual fantasies and your attempts to reject your physical attraction to Harry, you’d forgotten to feed yourself.

Yet another reason why you should’ve taken his offer, your inner monologue teases. You just scrunch your nose at your own thoughts, and then you remember you have leftover pasta from last night in the fridge. The growl in your tummy only intensifies from the anticipation of eating the cheese-filled noodles for lunch. A vibration goes off in your purse, but you ignore it. You’re feeling extra irritated now that you’ve realized how hungry and horny you are. It’s a lethal combination. 

You make the desperate choice of buying an overpriced orange cream-sicle to hold you over for a bit—you actually started to feel lightheaded for a minute, there. As you’re sitting on a bench and sucking on the citrus sweetness, you take your phone out once again. There are more texts from Harry:

--12:30pm

“Miss u🥺👉👈” —12:39pm

“R u mad at me?”—12:45pm

“So u hate me n u want me 2 die😣” —1:07pm

Goddamnit. You huff a breath out your nostrils before sending a quick response. 

“Go play with your foreskin, loser.” — read 1:07pm

You flip your phone face-down on top of your lap and continue to slurp on your ice cream. A couple minutes later, another buzz alerts you to check your notifications. Surprise—it’s Harry.

“That’s not very nice >:| besides, u know I already did that today🙄”—1:12pm

“How could I forget? I’ve been scarred for life thanks to you and your sorry excuse for a penis.”—1:13pm

“I think u accidentally sent that to me…I’ll send it to Max and let him know ur thinking of him😌”—1:15pm

You grunt and shove your phone back into your purse. Suddenly, you come to realize that your overwhelming desire/disdain for your step brother combined with your aggressive famishment has given you the necessary amount of confidence to return home and face the idiot without giving a flying fuck about the fact that you watched him bust a nut. 

Of all people, Harry should be the one who’s embarrassed to look you in the eye after what he did. Why should you feel exposed when it was his bare cock and balls that were revealed to you in their entirety. Granted, Harry is quite gifted…but that’s beside the point!!! The point is that you are starving and you want those leftovers NOW! Harry can go fuck himself—Alone, this time!!!

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

Once you pull up to your house, the only thing on your mind is that bowl of rich, buttery alfredo tortellini you’ve hidden in one of the vegetable drawers of the fridge. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend? Nah. Carbs are the ultimate ride-or-die when you’ve got mixed feelings about a guy. It doesn’t matter how many calories it is. You deserve it! You’ve had a long morning, and it was time for a tasty reward, goddamnit!

You open the door and slip your shoes off before making your merry way towards the kitchen, bags in-hand. The rich aroma of garlic and cheese dances its way into your nostrils and your heart immediately sinks. Your legs scurry themselves at a cartoonish speed towards the room where the smell is wafting out of. The kitchen island slows you down to a stop, your feet sliding against the hardwood floor. You drop your purse and shopping bag with a *clink* and a *plap*. You stand in place with your little hands balled into fists at your sides as you practically burn holes into your step brother’s face. He’s sitting atop one of the counter stools that’s placed opposite of you. Wearing only a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and his cross necklace, you see the irony as remarkably twisted. Especially since he used his hand with the cross tattoo to perform such unholy deeds to himself.

Wonder what God thought about today’s Sunday morning semen brought to you by Harry ‘wanna taste?’ Styles, you fume internally.

Not only does it look as if he’s just gotten out of the shower, his hair damp and extra curly, and his tan skin a little dewy. But he’s sitting right in front of you, eating your leftover pasta—fresh out of the oven in its foil container, it seems. Your lunch that you’d been craving so desperately has been unfairly stolen from you. Harry just looks at you with his elbows resting on the marble and stabs into another steaming tortellino with his fork before swirling it around in the air, blowing on it, and popping it straight into his mouth—his teeth scraping against the fork in the process. 

You feel that your skin is red hot and your hands are shaking. Your jaw is clenched, your teeth grinding together in frustration. This man has no goddamn shame. None whatsoever. Just when you’re about to give him hell, he’s sliding your shopping bag towards himself with his foot and is digging through your new purchases. “Oooh! What do we have here?” Harry hums mischievously.

Your eyes widen. You jump at him and you practically claw at his snooping hands like a feral cat. What you just bought at the mall was none of Harry’s business! Wasn’t it enough that he was consuming your food right in front of you?! “Give me that!” You yell, internally debating whether or not it would be helpful to use your teeth as a weapon in this situation. You decide against it for both of your sakes. You don’t want Harry to think you’re giving him a hickey—you know he’d use that against you in any way he could.

In the end, you aren’t strong enough to fight him off, and he yanks out the first thing he finds and holds it up above your head to an unreachable height(for you). If you were 10, you would try jumping for it, but you’re in your 20’s and you have a set of tits that unfortunately obey the laws of physics. The last thing Harry needs is your boobs bouncing in his face at the same time as he’s dangling your new pair of red, lacy, crotchless panties from his finger. And so you huff and back away with your arms crossed, reluctantly accepting your fate. Harry, now standing like a building beside you, lowers the piece of lingerie to his eye level so he can study them closely. He smirks devilishly once he discovers the special opening.

“Y/N-Y/M/N!” He clutches at the pearls around his throat mockingly with his other hand and gasps. If you rolled your eyes any harder, they would roll out of their sockets. You’re completely out of patience at this point. You’ve dealt with quite enough in the past 72 hours, and you could use a fucking break. 

Just when you thought you’d gotten the final nail in the coffin, Harry swaps the underwear in the bag for a different item. Something bigger. Something that has discreet enough packaging to be mostly disguised, but the logo on the front of the box somewhat gives away what it is…

“Oooh! What’s Tracy’s Dog?” He grins, shaking the ominous black box next to his ear. “How ‘bout we have a lil’ look-see, hm?” 

You sigh, “Harry…please.” He looks at you and smirks again. He seems to be amused by your new toy, but you’re not in the mood for his shenanigans right now. These were meant to be private items that no one except you were to have known about. It’s ruined when your step-brother is in on the secret, because now it’ll just be an on-going joke that he’ll never let you live down until something better(worse) takes its place. This is the worst day ever. You can’t wait until classes start again in the fall so you can spend as much time away from that pest of a man as possible without your step-mom feeling offended by your constant absence. Your go-to excuse would be studying—and even if you weren’t busy with school, you’d find something to study if anyone in your family caught word that you had free time. You can’t fucking wait to get out of this house.

Harry lifts the cover off of the box to reveal its contents. A neon pink vibrator—with some…extra advantages, as well. He chuckles and picks up the manual, reading out, “Clit-sucking g-spot vibrator…woah, that sounds like a good time!” 

Your eyes narrow at the man, hiding that you’re suddenly aware that he’s only wearing his underwear and that he’s also sporting a little bit of a semi. However, you’re trying your damned hardest not to look directly at it. It’s peeking out from the edge of your peripherals. In the process of fighting against temptation, your mind reverts back to a couple hours prior…when Harry’s hair was wet with sweat. His skin was shiny and glossy, but not nearly as reflective and oiled up as his erection. The sounds keep echoing through your ears. Shlick, shlick, shlick. Your step brother shamelessly voiced his ecstasy to you as you stood in the doorway and admired him in a stunned silence. When you abandoned Harry in his post-orgasm haze, you’d initially planned upon seeking an innocent distraction to entertain your erotically fiendish train-of-thought—anything that would help get your mind off of what you’d just witnessed. That plan failed once you’d arrived at the mall and found yourself exploring the shelves inside Adult World. An employee there recommended the Tracy’s Dog toy that you bought and told you that it would “change your life.” 

Desperate for anything that would occupy your time for the next several days stuck in the house with Harry, you yanked your credit card out to pay for it. The nice cashier then threw in a complimentary pair of crotchless panties and you were sent on your way. Your previous plan to seek an innocent distraction morphed into purchasing a g-spot vibrator that also had a clit-sucker on the opposite end—and in your mind, the new ‘plan’ was to go home, wash the new toy, charge the toy whilst convincing Harry to go see a movie with his friends or some shit…you’d play with the new toy until it “changed your life” and then you’d end your activities with the leftover tortellini. It sounded like a great night. 

It’s too bad Harry had to go and fuck it all up for you right off the bat. Now, you’re no longer sexually frustrated—you’re furious. You’ve had quite enough. Snatching the box from his hands, you shove at his bare chest and whine, “Harryyy!” He stumbles backwards a step or so, not expecting you to get physical with him. “Oi, ‘the fuck’s your problem?” His brows crease, him obviously puzzled by your sudden outburst. You’re upset, but you’re just as surprised at yourself as he is. You’ve never really pushed Harry before. Sure, you two are siblings—step siblings, but for the short time that you’ve lived in the same household, the two of you have always stuck to the verbal-type of quarreling.

In a way, even though he’s twice as strong as you are and you hardly used any force on him with that shove, you now almost want to apologize. But then you remember that you’re not in the wrong here. Harry is. 

“My problem? You wanna know what my problem is, Harry?!” You raise your voice for emphasis. “You’re my fucking problem!” You start to step away towards the stairs, but you stop for a moment just to add, “And put that thing away, would you?! For Christ’s sake…” As you say this, you point to his crotch. Harry looks down and his hands smack over the front of his underwear to poorly cover his full-on boner which its unsheathed head was actually threatening to poke out from the waistband of the briefs. His cheeks flush a dark shade of pink as if he’s embarrassed, but you find it ridiculous that a mostly-concealed stiffy makes him blush when he’d had no problem performing as your personal little camboy just a few hours earlier.

You take your bag and purse and run up the stairs to your bedroom before slamming the door closed. At this moment, you wish your door could lock. Alas, you have to make-do trusting that your perverted step brother won’t barge in on you changing, or worse…

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

It’s been one day since the thing happened, and tensions have finally dissipated somewhat between you and Harry. You’re still not happy with him—for several reasons—but he hasn’t added anything more to the list, which you see as a silver lining. He’d actually ordered from your favorite Italian place and replaced your leftover tortellini with a fresh new order of it. To ensure that you wouldn’t worry about him repeating his offense from yesterday, he ordered two entrees for himself so that he’d have plenty of food left over and wouldn’t have any reason to touch yours. 

You’re honestly delighted by Harry’s kind gesture. It’s unexpected, for sure. But a welcome surprise, regardless. After the two of you finish eating, you insist upon doing the dishes. It’s not like there’s much for you to do, but you want to make it known to him that you’re appreciative of his olive branch offering.

You’ve been in the kitchen for a while now—probably around 30 minutes—just cleaning out the fridge, dusting, scrubbing the counters, all that junk. You don’t know how much time has passed until the sun has finally set and you need to flick the lights on to see what you’re doing. You’re just about finished, washing your hands in the sink, when you feel a pair of hands grip around your squishy hips. “Sup, lil sis.” A voice hums deeply against the shell of your ear. The combination of unanticipated touch and sound makes you instinctually jump. “AHHH! Harry!” You gasp. You grab a towel to dry your hands and then you turn around to face him. A stupid smirk covers his stupid, cocky face. And yet you can’t help that tingling warmth that burns down your abdomen and zings its way straight to your sensitive clit. 

You haven’t seen this smirk since he unboxed your magical clit-sucking vibrator contraption. It’s still in its box under your bed—charging, of course—because you’ve wanted to try it out when you have the house to yourself. You have the tendency to say some dirty things out loud when you touch yourself, and so you’d really like for Harry to be as far away from you as possible…even though you know he’s exactly who you’ll be thinking about, anyway…

This was so bad.

All you want right now is to jump up onto the counter and tug Harry in by his hair until his head is trapped between your thighs. The ache is killing you. Your step brother, of all people, is the one man you want to rail you against every surface in this goddamn house. You don’t care if the neighbors see. You don’t care if your parents find out. You just want your step brother’s cum. It’s yours. He’s made that clear to you. His cum is all for you. All for his pretty little step sis. 

As you stand trapped with your bum pressed against the sink, his hands on either side of you, Harry speaks to you once more. “How’d it taste?” 

You gulp at his words and hesitate. What’s he talking about? You never got to—ohh! He means…dinner…damn, your brain was really fucked. 

“G-good, thank you.” Your voice ends with a nervous giggle. His eyes scan down your body before nodding and running a hand through his hair. “Hmm. I’m glad. M’sorry, again, by the way…” He bites on the inside of his lip shyly, looking genuinely apologetic for making you upset. You give him a forgiving smile and rub his upper arm and shoulder with one of your hands. “It’s ok. It’s my fault, too…” You humor him. “…I should really learn how to share with my big brother...” As your fingers caress and squeeze onto his muscular bicep, you blink your eyes up at him in faux-innocence. Harry’s lips part and his nostrils flare.

Your touch, no matter how light or seemingly harmless, has a serious effect on the man. You can reckon because simply grazing your fingers down his taught, tatted skin past the sleeve of his shirt—making prolonged, direct contact—has triggered his feral reflexes. Without a moment of delay, he’s flipped you around, pressed you face down against the countertop, and has your wrists held in one of his hands at the small of your back. He nudges your legs apart with his knees so that his other hand can slide in between them. 4 of his fingers massage up and down your covered slit in a swirling motion, applying more pressure when he knows he’s reached your clit. You’re just stuck in his grasp, your ass wiggling and grinding against his hand as you moan and beg. “Mmhh…Please, Harry…so good…feels so fucking good…oh my god!”

You feel him squeeze your clothed clit with his thumb and forefinger as he speaks against your ear, “Ooh, yeah? You like it when your step brother touches you like this?” Then he releases you before spanking you on your pussy and then rubbing it with his fingers again afterwards. 

“F-fuck—yes! I love it,” you gasp.

Harry yanks you up by your hair, one hand holding your ponytail while the other still has your wrists manually bound. “I knew it. Knew you were holding out f’me.” He drags you stumbling over to the couch in the living room and positions you onto all fours atop the cushions. Now properly situated for him, you turn your head back to look at him. You can feel how dark your eyes have gotten by how narrowed your focus is—all you see is Harry. 

Keeping eye contact with you, he smooths his palms up and down your ass. Your leggings are thin enough for him to squeeze at the fleshiness of which he immediately takes advantage of. You moan, shaking your ass and hips back to further entice him. “Shit…” he pants out. You giggle and do it again which in turn earns you a hard spank onto your right ass cheek. You immediately stop your taunting. Harry grabs you by your hair, wrapping it around his fist and pulling you up to his chest with one swift yank. “We’re not just playing around anymore, Y/N…” Harry grunts in your ear. With his opposite hand, he gropes onto one of your breasts causing you to whine and arch your back at his unforgiving, heavy touch. He doesn’t seem to be concerned with the possibility of leaving marks and bruises all over your body. And you aren’t either. You’re enjoying this. Your desperate, throbbing cunt is aching for more of your step brother’s touch. It’s sick. It’s depraved. Your friends, parents, distant relatives—they’d be disgusted if they saw what was about to transpire between two step siblings. 

Your thoughts on the matter?

Let them fucking watch.

Harry releases you and you drop down onto your hands. With quick and reckless fingers, he pulls your leggings over the swell of your ass, tugging back and forth to get them down your thighs to reveal your new red, lacy, crotchless thong. Your pussy lips glisten with arousal. Harry chuckles to himself once he’s rid you of your pants and smooths his hands up and down your bare ass. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this…” He admits with a hard slap against your right ass cheek. You face forward and blush to yourself, too shy to openly share the same truth. Although, you assume you’re making it pretty obvious to him that the feeling is mutual. “…When I fingered you a few days ago, I was so close to just fucking you right there against the machines…so close, Y/N.”

Before you can even make an attempt at a delayed response, he’s dipping his face between your legs and licking a fat stripe up your slit, stealing your wet arousal onto his tongue for his own selfish quench. You suck in a shaky breath and giggle, wiggling your ass back against his face. He groans and spanks you on your left cheek, then the right, then the left, then both at the same time, and then he grabs at your hips and pulls you closer towards him as he shoves his mouth and nose deeper into your drippy cunt and slurps you up. “Oh my god!” You choke out as you struggle to find something to solidly grip onto. 

Harry pushes his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, his solid cock already weeping with precum and begging for a wet hole to fuck. His face is still buried between your legs when you take a peek at him from down below, your head upside down, and you see his package in all its beauty. You’re so ready to take him inside you, but you need to take care of something first. You whine, “W-wait, Harry, wait!”

He halts, pulls himself out from the comfort of your squishy thighs, then returns your gaze with his confused one. “What?” He slurs, his voice wet and drooly.

You shift your body so that you’re completely facing him now. “C-can I…?” Your thighs instinctively squeeze together before the words can even come out of you, and you let out a pathetic whimper. Harry licks his lips and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Can you…what?” His brow quirks up. 

You don’t know if it’s a good time to ask this, but you’ve already started asking, so you might as well finish. You doubt he’ll refuse…but you also worry that you won’t get fucked if he grants you this request. What if this moment is the only chance for your desperate needs to be met?! 

“Can I have a taste? J-just a lil’ one?” Your eyes flicker down to his bouncing erection that he’s now caught onto and is slowly stroking.

Silence. All except for the soft, wet rubbing sound coming from Harry carefully jerking his own cock whilst you’re sitting pretty on your knees with your hands laced together behind you. 

You sigh and bow your head, attempting to hide behind your ponytail due to feeling embarrassed to have given such a silly request. But you know better than to sulk and complain after not getting your way. So you use your cuteness to guilt him instead. 

“Please, Harry?” You’re really playing it up. Tears have actually welled up in your eyes to add to your act.

Harry blinks several times as if he had just been stuck staring into space for a moment. He’s dumbfounded, never having any woman beg to suck his dick before in his entire life. It’s a welcome surprise, and he shakes his head with a slight grin tugging on his lips as he responds to you. “Fuck yes, you can...go ‘head, love… sorry…fuckin’ hell…”

You practically jump up and happily clap your hands together, smiling stupidly at your success. Of course you realize that he’d only been floating around in his own little world when you asked the first time, and it wasn’t at all that he was refusing to grant your wish. Regardless, you feel that Harry can’t resist you when you beg. Looks like you’ll have to use this power against him forever.

You take his flushed dick in your hand, replacing his, and slowly pump him a couple of times before lowering your face down to its level. You keep your eyes on Harry’s as you stick your tongue out and flick it against the exposed tip, tasting the small bead of precum that was leaking from it. It’s salty. Musky. It’s Harry. You moan, nursing onto the tip with strengthening suction as if to be begging for just one more drop. He hisses and grabs onto your ponytail once again. You release your lips from him with a pop, giggling due to the knowledge that you’ve finally got a hold on this man. Then you begin swirling your tongue around the entire tip before wrapping your lips around it and sucking once again, but gently and sloppily this time, drooling and dousing his cock with your spit. Then you softly drag your glossy mouth up and down the underside of his cock like it’s a melty ice cream cone. Harry swears under his breath and takes his phone out of his pocket. He slides his thumb over the screen, opens the camera app and he clicks the record button. Your eyes flicker up towards the lens and you smile before sticking your tongue out flat and smacking Harry’s cock down onto it several times. 

You’ve never been recorded doing such lewd things before, but you trust Harry. You know how protective Harry is over you, so there’s no way in hell he’d let anyone see something that’s only meant for him. This is just a dirty little secret that you’ll always share as step siblings. You guess it’s something that’s bringing you closer together. Or maybe you’re both just sick and disgusting.

You then hold onto the base of him with both hands and dribble a good amount of spit down onto him. Your fingers smear it all over his shaft until he’s completely covered, and you begin pumping him with one of your dainty hands as best as you can. You beam up at the camera and to Harry again, biting your lip, and you bow your head back down to lick all the way up from his balls to his slit. Harry pets his hand through the long, silky hair of your ponytail. The gesture feels loving and kind. You love the thought that he’ll save this video on his phone to watch later. You love to think about him thinking about you. And so you want to make a show out of this as much as you can before Harry can’t take it any longer and makes you stop.

You take his cock and wet it a bit with some extra saliva before bobbing your head up and down, letting it slide against your tongue over and over again slowly. Eventually, this starts to get a little messy, but nothing too bad. Your spit is just leaking a little from the corners of your mouth. However, you decide to kick it up a notch and take him deeper. You bob your head on him so that the head of his cock nudges your throat several times in a row until you are forced to let go and are gasping for air. Drool is dripping from your chin, your cheeks and lashes are wet with tears, and your eyes are clouded with pure lust as you stare up at Harry as he half-assedly points his phone camera at you and gawks at the sight before him simultaneously. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is gaped. This has been much more than just a little taste by this point. It doesn’t seem as though either of you could give a shit, as both of your minds are completely empty and neither one has hesitated or slowed down.

You finish the ‘performance’ by slapping your cheeks with Harry’s dick, still staring up at him as you do, and he twitches in your hand. The power you hold over him causes your sticky arousal to drip down your thighs and you end up rubbing them together to hold yourself over. Harry ends the recording, tosses his phone onto the carpet, and tugs on the back of his t-shirt, pulling it off. You resume your previous position on all fours. Your ass is stuck up high and perfectly accessible for him as he aligns himself up with your core. He rubs himself up and down your pussy to coat himself with your drippy essence. “I’m gonna fuck this cunt whenever and wherever I want…can’t be wasting my cock on any other slag…it should only go in here.” As he pronounces the last word, he pushes himself inside you all in one thrust. Your body arches in retaliation and you grasp onto the couch cushions with your shaky fingers. Harry wastes no time to let you adjust to his size and stretches you out by aggressively smacking his hips against your ass without mercy. It’s like you’ve been thrown into the middle of a race and it’s impossible to keep up. Your body is pounded into the couch until your knees fail to support you and you’re being yanked up to lean over the couch’s arm by your hair so that Harry can continuously bottom out until his balls slap perfectly against your clit with every plunge. And Harry’s not a silent ‘lover’ by any means. He’s proudly announcing his pleasure to every brick of this house to hear. You also learn how degrading his mouth can get as he continuously steals more and more of your innocence.

“Shit…your body was designed f’me, y’know that? Just f’me…just for your step brother to use as his little cocksleeve…” he seethes into your ear after having shoved his entire length into you and pausing for you to flutter and tremble from your insides out.

Your cunt is insanely wet, and you can feel that you’ve completely soaked through the cushions already. 

(You’ll have to figure out how to handle that later…)

It’s as if Harry’s cock makes your hole splash every time it enters it. You’ve gotten to the point where you don’t know how much time has gone by, you can hardly breathe, and you honestly can’t tell whether or not you’ve basically just been orgasming over and over for the past several minutes straight. He’s pounding into your cervix so hard that it’s painful and you’re starting to whimper helplessly. Thank God your cats have chosen to mind their own business this time and are upstairs sleeping, because they’d probably develop some sort of innate hatred towards Harry after witnessing something of which, to the uncorrupted eyes of a domesticated animal, definitely looks violent in a bad way. What a time that would be trying to explain to your parents why your cats have been defending you with their very lives, triggered by even the smallest glance from your step brother. If this ever happens again, you’ll need to make sure it’s done in guaranteed-complete privacy.

You can feel hot tears streaming down your face from the force of Harry’s thrusts that have bruised his cock head against your cervix, but you don’t want any of it to stop. “Fuck, baby. Love it when you squeeze me like tha’…” he groans, gripping tightly onto your fleshy hips and lifting them up each time he slams his lower half into you. The atmosphere is tainted with the mixture of your sexes. The only consistent sounds are your gasping breaths and the *slap-slap-slap* of your jiggling ass clapping against Harry’s pelvis. 

As you’re leant over the couch armrest, the carpet tickles your out-stretched fingertips and you feel braindead. Your thoughts are nonexistent—the only matter you can internally comprehend is satisfying the man connected to you. All you want is his cum; you want to be filled to the brim with it. You want to be overflowing with your step brother’s sticky seed so that you both can watch it drip out of your fertile cunt once he eventually has to pull out of you. 

His thrusts are now becoming stuttered and shallow, losing their original relentless rhythm. You choke on a wet gasp as you feel your step brother’s rough hands grip onto your ass before harshly spanking it. Harry drags out a growling groan and pulls you back up to his chest by your ponytail, then wraps his other hand around your throat, still fucking you on his cock. You hold onto the arm that’s holding you up by your neck as he seethes into your ear, “I was gonna cum all over your pretty face, my pet…” *slap-slap-slap* “…But now I think…” *slap-slap* “…I’ll fill up this tight little pussy, instead…” You moan loudly, your head falling back to rest against Harry’s shoulder as he continues to sloppily pound into your slick hole. He bites your ear and slides his choking hand down to your loosely-covered breasts to tease and grope them during your final moments of intimacy. He flicks your nipples with both of his thumbs as you both reach the highest peak together—you having reached it for the upteenth time this session. Harry cries out, his hands now completely circled around your torso and holding you down onto his squirting cock. You’re rocking your hips forwards and backwards, your internal walls pulsing and milking him of every last drop until he’s shaking from overstimulation. Still having one left in you, you reach your hand down between your legs and circle your clit, swiveling atop of Harry’s un-softening cock. He  shakily guides you by your hips, whimpering and gasping at the intensity he’s feeling in his extremely sensitive organ. Shockingly, as you’re fucking yourself to another orgasm on his cock, you feel a couple more small jets of cum shoot out inside of you; and as you look back at Harry, he’s a sweaty, whiny, weak, mess of a boy who’s been milked of all he’s got. You giggle, grinning victoriously at him before clenching your cunt and pulling off of him—attempting to keep all his cum inside of you. Some of it drips out, but you shove it back inside with your fingers. Harry watches with glossy eyes, rosy cheeks, and baited breath. 

You steal his boxer briefs off of his calves and slip them on over your crotchless panties. Harry is laying back against the couch cushions, his glistening cock throbbing and slowly softening against his abdomen. Before you scamper upstairs to change your sweaty clothes, you give Harry one last goodnight present.

You grab your phone from the coffee table and click record. Then, you kneel down onto the floor between Harry’s legs, pointing the camera at his nude and spent form. You giggle to yourself and take his cock in your free hand. The camera picks up Harry’s face as he jumps, his eyes widening and his abdomen tightening in defense. You flip to the front camera to record yourself as you lick the remnants of both you and Harry combined off of his still-stiff dick, and you make sure to swirl your tongue around the tip before giving it a good suck—releasing him with a *pop*. 

“Ahhh, fuck!” He whines.

You end the recording and kiss his swollen erection tenderly, making him squirm and giggle. You smile at his newly-expressed vulnerability. Harry realizes his mistake and straightens his posture. “Hm…uh…send that to me later, yeah?” 

You smirk at him. “Sure thing, loser.” With that, you stand up and take off up the stairs with your phone.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

Sorry for the long wait, everybody! I hope you liked it!

Please follow, like, and reblog - and let me know if you want more of this kind of content! My requests & my inbox are always open! Hope everyone has a lovely week! ❤ xoxo,

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻ Regan ༺♥༻❀༺♥༻

[myscenic]

Pairing: mafia!park jisung x male!reader

Genre: mafia!au, enemies to lovers, fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1k+

Synopsis: jisung (21), the cold mafia, and y/n (19), the outgoing one have always butted heads as partners in their secret organization. although y/n had always secretly admired jisung, but his cold expression washed over it quickly. forced to work together on missions, their ice and fire relationship clashes slowly evolve into respect. beyond work, an unexpected friendship forms through a campfire and private moments where y/n opens up.

𓆰 Note: ahhh my first fic ever!! i immediately thought of mafia jisung when i first saw the concept photo so I decided to write one. it's kinda bad but i hope you don't mind😭

"mark hyung please swap with me, i don't want to be partnered with the ice prince again," y/n pleaded with their leader as he stared at the assignment board. for the fifth time this month, he had been paired up with jisung for a mission.

jisung overheard the conversation and glared at y/n from across the room. "watch it, rodent, or i'll put you in your place again."

y/n rolled his eyes, ignoring the older's empty threat. their leader just sighed. "sorry kid, you two need to learn how to work together. now stop bothering me and get going, your target leaves in an hour."

groaning, y/n turned away from the board and made his way over to jisung begrudgingly. "hey hyung, ready to go?" he said pointedly, hoping to irk the other.

jisung's eyes narrowed. "don't try me," he shoved past y/n and headed for the doors.

y/n sighed and muttered “this is gonna be shitty like last time…” in a flashback to the time where he almost screwed the mission up and jisung scolded him harshly.

“are you just gonna stand there or what?” jisung sent him a cold look at the door. y/n shivered and rushed to him, wondering how on earth this day could get any worse.

as they scouted the warehouse from the treeline, jisung gazed at the guard numbers with a calculating look. noticing y/n growing anxious beside him, he turned to the other.

"alright, there's too many for a head on fight. we'll need a diversion to split them up. do you have any smoke bombs or explosives?"

y/n nodded, pulling a few small bombs from his pack for jisung's inspection. jisung hummed in approval. "good, you may be semi-useful after all. here's the plan - i'll draw some away to the south side. when the smoke clears, you sneak in and take down any stragglers silently. think you can manage that?"

his tone held doubt as usual, but y/n was determined to prove himself. "you can count on me, hyung. i won't let you down!" he replied confidently.

jisung raised a brow skeptically. "we'll see about that. just follow my lead and try not to screw this up like last time, got it?" y/n nodded eagerly, focusing intently as jisung laid out the strategy. it was time to show the other what he was capable of.

while tracking the target, they came across a large group of enemies guarding a warehouse. jisung sighed in frustration, unsure how they would get past such numbers alone. “this was a lot more than i’ve expected.”

but y/n smiled confidently. "leave it to me, hyung." he drew a small smoke bomb from his pack and lit the fuse. tossing it into the midst of the guards, he then grabbed jisung and pulled him into the cover of nearby bushes.

as the area filled with smoke, y/n used the distraction to stealthily sneak behind enemy lines. jisung watched in amazement as y/n took down guard after guard with precise chokes and jabs, too quick to be seen or stopped.

when the smoke cleared, all enemies lay unconscious on the ground. jisung emerged from the bushes in stunned silence. y/n just grinned proudly. "come on hyung, the target's all ours now."

jisung found himself reluctantly impressed, but just nodded and went over to finish the mission.

the mission was a success, but it had taken longer than expected. jisung and y/n packed up their gear, ready to return to hq and file our report. as they walked through the forest, a comfortable silence fell between them.

much had changed over the months they’d worked together. at first, jisung seemed cold and distant. But little by little, y/n saw glimpses of his kinder nature - his quiet humor, thoughtful insights. they learned to move as one in battle, trusting the other implicitly.

now, an easiness had grown between them y/n hadn't expected to find. he glanced at jisung, his profile illuminated softly by the setting sun. heat rose in y/n’s cheeks but he didn't look away. once they might have been strangers, even enemies - but now, he had become his friend.

they stopped at the edge of the woods. jisung turned to me, eyes bright. "good work today. i’m glad you have my back out there." his words warmed him more than the fire they’d soon light.

words stuck in y/n’s throat so he simply nodded, smiling. they readied camp in a comfortable silence. as the forest awoke with night noises, he watched the firelight play across jisung's face.

y/n’s heartbeat quickened. he cared for him far more than he’d admitted, even to himself. but would jisung accept his feelings? their partnership was too important to lose.

jisung turned to stoke the fire, unaware of his gaze. y/n took a deep breath to steady his nerves. it was now or never.

"hyung?" his voice was soft.

he faced me, eyes questioning. y/n looked down, fiddling with his hands. "there's something i want to tell you."

silence. y/n glanced up - jisung was watching him patiently, a gentle look in his eyes that bolstered y/n's courage.

"over these past months, working together, i've come to..." y/n hesitated. "care for you. deeply."

jisung tilted his head slightly, continuing to listen without judgment. y/n plunged on. "at first i didn't understand these feelings. but being with you has come to mean everything to me."

y/n searched his face for a reaction, heart in his throat. jisung's expression was unreadable. fear gripped him - had he ruined their friendship?

finally he spoke, voice soft. "you foolish fool." y/n's heart sank - until he continued. "how long have I felt the same?"

joy and surprise bloomed within him. "you - you do?"

he smiled, reaching to brush y/n's cheek in a tender caress. "of course, idiot."

relief and delight swept him. leaning into his touch, y/n smiled back tentatively. he gazed at me with such affection that he knew, in that moment, their bond ran deeper than either of them had understood.

slowly, cautiously, y/n tilted his face up to jisung's. his smile widened as he leaned down to brush his lips against y/n's in a gentle kiss. warmth and rightness pulsed through him, this was the beginning of understanding each other in a whole new way.

[cable-knit-sweater]

Before The First Light

Rating: T Word count: 884 words Tags: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, nightmares, minor injuries, Steve Rogers needs a hug, (light?) angst

Written for @catws-anniversary || March 26 prompts: on your left, PTSD, endurance

He’s running. 

Steve’s running so fast that even with the serum coursing through his veins, his lungs are starting to burn with the strain of exertion. He barely pays any attention to the bullets whistling past him, dodging and weaving to avoid them, almost just on instinct. It is on instinct. There isn’t much time to think about anything but getting out.

The place is a fucking maze though, so it’s taking longer than he’d planned.  So much for that damn song, he thinks, almost laughing at the irony. So much for being the man with a plan.

He presses on, through endless corridors twisting and turning, Hydra soldiers hot on his heels. Steve thinks that maybe they’ve finally figured it out, judging from the screaming and cursing. That he’s just a diversion so the other Howlies could go to work. 

By now, they’ve definitely set the place to blow.  By now, Steve should’ve made his way out. 

A bullet grazes his shoulder, but he tries to ignore the searing pain as he pushes himself harder, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Suddenly, he’s outside, the building exploding behind him. He’s hit with a blast of air, pressure, heat, but it just propels him forward faster. There’s still no time to think. 

There’s more cursing and shouting. This time it’s not in German though.

 It’s in a heavy Brooklyn accent, his favorite in all the fucking world. 

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Are you tryin’ to get blown to pieces? For fuck’s sake Rogers!!”

“Just brushing up on my German,” he yells back as he gets closer and closer to the source of the cursing and shouting. “You know, they’d call you an Arsch-”

“Don’t you even think ab- fuck, Stevie, watch out! Three at your 9 o’clock!” 

Steve twists and turns to the right, still running towards the treeline that Bucky is shouting at him from.  He doesn’t slow down or turn back - he’s made that mistake before and gotten an earful - as Bucky takes out the Hydra goons with his rifle.

He doesn’t slow down or turn back until he gets to Bucky’s position. That’s where he draws the line. Steve’s not ever going anywhere without him. 

By the time he comes to a stop, Bucky has taken care of the last stragglers, and Steve collapses against a tree. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Bucky grumbles as he drops down from a tree branch. “What the fuck?”

They start running again, side by side, Bucky on his left like always. There’s no benefit in sticking around. There might be more Hydra soldiers out there, and the other Howlies will definitely give them shit if they take much longer catching up to the group. 

“Hmm.”

“I was this close to coming in and dragging your ass out. Did we not have a plan?” 

“I was fine. I am fine, stop bitching, Buck.”

Bucky pushes his shoulder against Steve’s, and he winces. Of course, Bucky notices. “Fine, huh? I’m thinkin I should just tie myself to you so you don’t go runnin’ off making stupid ass decisions.”

“What makes you think I won’t do that with you tied to me?”

“Good point,” Bucky huffs. “You’d probably enjoy it, and then you’d just drag me int-”

The rest of his sentence gets cut off by a blood curdling scream. Steve’s heart stops. It’s Bucky. 

****

Steve jolts awake. 

He’s drenched in sweat, his senses still reeling. A little disoriented, he scans his dimly lit room, heart hammering against his ribcage, the image of Bucky lying motionless on the ground, blood staining the fabric of his uniform, still seared freshly into his mind.

It’s hard to ground himself. It seemed so real for a moment, like it was yesterday. But he’s not waking up in a tent in the French countryside, or on his cot back at SSR headquarters in London. He’s not waking up with-

He wakes up alone, in his DC apartment, and it’s never felt more suffocatingly small.  

With a heavy sigh, Steve swings his legs over the edge of his bed.  His muscles are protesting with the weight of exhaustion that still clings to him, but there’s no point in staying in bed. It’s not like he’s gonna get much more sleep now. He knows what images he’ll see if he closes his eyes.

Instead, he forces himself out of bed, switches out of his sweat-drenched clothes and into his running gear, and makes his way out of the apartment as quickly as he can. 

Running - ironically, given tonight’s dream - will help. Just to have a moment, an hour (or two) to not have to think, that’s all he needs. It doesn’t matter that it’s barely light out. He’ll be at it for a while. 

Maybe he'll try a different route today. Make his way south towards the Potomac, run a couple laps around the Mall before it’s run over with tourists.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. The sunrise over the Mall will make a pretty sight. Not enough to dislodge the dream still haunting him, but he doesn’t think anything ever will be. 

He doesn’t take much time to warm up, even if he knows he should. Soon enough, he’s running full speed.

He’s running. 

Steve’s running fast, but his lungs don’t burn. His heart, though. His heart aches.

[skyddish]

aftg fic but it's going sooo slowly I'm just posting parts that made me giggle and eventually I'll write the full thing: Ft. Nicky the Menace

“You guys have been in there a while and we parked five minutes ago…” Nicky peered into the truck, cupping his eyes against the glass to see inside. “Should Dan be worried?” Matt said, “Don’t say that.” But Aaron was already pulling the car’s handle to wham Nicky with the door.

Aaron collapsed into a bean bag and sent a few message updates to Kaitlyn. Mid sentence, Aaron felt a prying gaze appear over his shoulder and he snapped his head to look at Nicky, whose face was inches away. He didn’t even look ashamed. “...Can I help you?” Aaron asked. “That doesn’t look like pizza.” Nicky deadpanned.

Responding from the window, Andrew said, “My dear child, I cannot bend this Gascon pride of mine to accept such a kindness.” The reference made Aaron grimace and he said dryly, “Cyrano was deeply in love with his cousin… FYI.” He trailed off, pretending to be too invested in his phone to see the look Andrew gave him.

“Dude. If you aren't gonna try, let someone else play.” Kevin said, “Damn.” Aaron flipped him off. “It's not his fault he’s an awful driver." Nicky defended him. "Aaron tried his best.” Aaron gave him the finger too. His phone lit up again but it wasn’t a notification from Nicky this time. Aaron tossed his controller aside and unlocked his phone. Fuck you Kevin, play by yourself.  “So you can't text me back?” Nicky protested, scooping up the abandoned controller. “And I heard the clown ringtone, by the way— Rude. But when that nice flowery ringtone texts you, you drop everything? Typical.” He sneered. “You guys are right next to each other.” Kevin squinted. "Why are you texting him?" Nicky's smile fumbled and he laughed nervously, glancing in Andrew’s direction. “We were talking about you Kevin.” He said. “Yeah~ I watched the way you dabbed your pizza with that napkin. Only pussies are scared of greasing up their organs like a car.” His tone said Right, Aaron? but his eyes said Help Me.

Nicky's gasp broke the atmosphere. He was staring at his phone with wide eyes, his trembling hand covered his mouth, and Aaron steeled himself for bad news. Nicky was usually the first to warn them of public backlash, since he was the monster with the most online engagement. Aaron just hoped it wasn’t something that could get any of them murdered. Nicky lowered his hand and read from his phone screen, looking up at each of them. He said, “I just found out Alaska has the second highest rate of incest in the U.S.” Nobody said anything for a moment and Aaron stared at him. After a beat, he asked, “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Nicky's reaction would've been less severe if a teammate died. He just shook his head in disbelief and as if to prove it, tilted the phone toward them. The search bar read, ‘Alaska have incest?’ and the answer was yes.  “The first on the list was Florida.” Nicky said, completely serious. “Maybe you should move there.” Andrew suggested. “Obviously they need more diversity.”

[anarchy-and-piglins]

"I want to know exactly what they told you." The Crowfather dragged a chair to the middle of the room and sat down on it. Techno waited, spine pressed against the wall.

Everything about this man was restrained. Every movement, every twitch of the dark wings on his back, betrayed a measure of control that went far beyond what the hero association had prepared him for. They weren't kidding when they told Techno Crowfather was one of the most dangerous villains ever.

And after his previous escape attempt, they didn't make the mistake of unchaining Techno from the bed again.

"You should speak," The Crowfather said at his stubborn silence. "Or I will fetch Wilbur and force it out of you. And you should know by now that I don't want to hurt you." He looked at Techno with that constant expression of wretched sadness and harsh resolve. As if he really was trying to convince Techno that he had his best interest at heart.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to believe that," Techno muttered, touching his neck. There was a small bruise there where the syringe they'd used to sedate him earlier had dug in.

"Just because I don't want to hurt you doesn't mean I can't correct your misbehavior," The Crowfather said. "A good parent disciplines his children. They ruined you. As my son-"

"I'm not your son!" Techno spat.

The Crowfather stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head and sighed. "What did they tell you?" he asked again.

"My parents are dead," Techno said. "You killed them."

The laugh that came from the other man then was much closer to a cackle than any human sound, it made Techno's skin itch.

"Oh, I've killed plenty of people. What a boring tale, the association couldn't come up with anything more original?"

"My mother was killed instantly in the attack. My father managed to escape with me and hid me somewhere he knew other people would find me." The words were slightly stilted. The story had been repeated to Techno over and over again when he was so young he could barely speak himself. He told it in the same way - as if he was listening to somebody else recount it. "Then he ran to act as a diversion and you killed him. He did it to keep me safe. My father loved me so much, he would have done anything for me."

The Crowfather's pale blue eyes lit up with narrowed pupils, a thin smile splitting his face. "Well, at least they told you one truth." 

When he stood, his bird-like limbs stretched horribly. Techno was too prideful to flinch away from his touch, even when those claws cupped his face tenderly.

"They were right about one thing only. Your father loves you so much that after the hero association stole you, he searched for over two decades to find you again. And now that I have, I won't ever let you go."

(Same AU as this one)

[tinydefector]

Laboratory logs 6

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Trauma, hints to human trafficking and Sex Trafficking.

Wooo, it's the weekend, which means more fanfic.

Enjoy how the stories come together.

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Request and ask are open.

_______________

 "Feelin betta?" Rattler asked the smaller speedster. Traxies vented softly against Rattler's plating as he slowly onlines his optics after his emotional shut down. "...A little," he replied at last, voice gravelly from raw-edged sobs. 

 "Why...help me?" Traxies field flickered, "You don't know me. I could be anyone"

A rumbling chuckle answered Traxies. "You looked like you needed it. Ain't no crime in that." Servos rubbed his back reassuringly. "We all get tumbled by life sometimes. Best to lend a hand up when we can."

"Rattler! Fuck sake man! Why did you take off!" A voice over the hill yells, the firm if a human comes into view, he stands there panting, hands resting on his knees. When his eyes land on the blue mech that was pressed against Rattler's side the young man lets out a noise. "Oh my god Rattle really?, hookup right now?" . 

Traxies tenses before head floods his linescand his fans kick on in embarrassment. But the shuttler seemed unconcerned, chuckling softly as he hailed the newcomer. 

"Ain't like that, Tony! Just lendin' servo' is all." Rattler greeted. "Poor mech was tumbled up good." Tony slowly makes his way down to the two mechs, "fuck you have long legs, some of us can't Fly remember!" He huffs out before his eyes move back to the rather dishevelled looking younger mech.

Traixes peered at the man, still rather embarrassed over the situation. "Thank you for checking on me. But...where am I, precisely?" Carefully extricating himself from Rattler's hold, Traixes faced them both. " Kosciuszko National Park, Rattler here was meant to be helping me with plant documentation and seed collection!" He huffs out. "What you expect from me T, those plants are minuscule!. Ain't my fault you fleshies so small!."  Rattler rumbled a laugh, unbothered by Tony's grumbling. 

Traixes cycled a soft vent, anxiety uncoiling as he watched the two bicker, “I outta rearrange your wires, maybe take a crowbar to you!” Tony threatened only for Rattler to laugh loudly while getting treated by the human. 

"What plants were you studying?” Traxies voice is faint, but the curiosity in his optics is rather vivid. “ At the moment, Gentianella diemensis and Brachyscome, but really all of them, collecting seeds for storage and documenting and also just taking notes of what else grows in this area, makes it easier for foraging guilds." Tony hums while taking down notes. Traxies optics lit with interest, Over Earth-based botany.   

"Fascinating! Brachycomes are so diverse in form and colour. Gentianellas produce such vibrant blooms - so much beauty packed into such tiny packages." Field rippling with eagerly with excitement over someone else outside of Brainstorm and Perceptor. 

“Well would ya look at that, got ya Self an apprentice Tones” Rattler chuckled. “ Could I tag along?." Traxies was barely containing the urge to leap up and explore. The shuttler's field pulsed in amusement at the speedster's enthusiasm. "Course you can join, kid. Sounds useful to have extra hands and optics. Just watch your step - some critters out here got teeth meaner than Tony's bark!" 

"Yea and I'm the one who's gotta worry about getting bitten by a Mulga Snake. Cause you know, not made of metal!" Tony shoots back at Rattler. The shuttle burst into hearty guffaws at Tony's backhand comment. "Ain't that the truth! These pede just bounce the fangs right off. You thought - one lil' nip and it's bye-bye Tony Time." He teased down at the disgruntled human. 

"Fuck you Rattler, here I am housing and hiding you from the Government and your war and this is the way you treat me, might just leave you out on the airstrip " He calls out while flipping the mech off. In truth it was all fun and games between the two, neither of them took it to heart. "Aww, you know you love me really! Who else gonna haul your scrawny aft outta snake-infested bushes, eh?" 

"Come on let's get these seeds and photos, I wanna get out of here before tourist start showing up and asking questions, and I'd rather not get pinged for being around you lot, last time you were out you nearly ended up in a scuffle between bots and cons" Tony huffs out while continuing to find the dried flowers taking samples and notes. 

Traixes cast Rattler a sidelong glance, field rippling question. The shuttler responded gently, "Ain't easy bein' mech's on an organic world. Factions clashed here and there; we wanna avoid notice. We keep our heads down, stick to backcountry. Don't want Megatron's attention or lackies on us"

It makes Traxies stop for a moment. The war was over, where were the Decepticons and Autobots fighting on earth?Was it the DJD?, or some other side faction. Did he miss hear Rattler? Questions and unease slowly settle into the pit of his tanks. "Rattler, did you say Megatron?." He inquiries softly.   

Rattler glanced down at the Blue speedster. "Megatron's Decepticons came lookin' for energy way back. Went up against Optimus Prime and his Autobots, nearly got cuaght in the crossfire, it's How Tones and I met." 

 "Megatron, now - he's one pit-spawn mech you don't wanna meet, bits. Ruthless as they come." Traixes cycled a soft vent, studying flora to ground swelling emotions. Worry wells up in him. What time was this Earth year, had he jumped back really far again. Megatron had renounced the Decepticon cause, he was now Co-captain of the Lost Light, how far back had he jumped in time?. 

His spark pulsed a frantic staccato as fear crashed over him. Megatron leading Decepticons - the brutal tyrant had not yet walked his road to redemption. And Traxies was out here without his crew. He needed to get out of here. "Easy there, youngling. Breathe for me now, in and out...you're alright. ain't no Cons to hurt you here."

he choked out, "Time...jumped...how...far..." His spark whirled in helplessness and confusion.Tony spun around seeing the young Mech having a panic attack and quickly moving towards both Rattler and Traxies. “Hey, hey, He's not here can't hurt ya” the human man states while patting Traxies leg. 

"C-Can't stop it... ability… it hurts, please...." He choked on static, struggling to regain control over his processor and the memory. He had only ever felt this fear for Megatron once in his lifetime, but he had been grabbed by Ratchet when Optimus and Megatron ended up in a standoff. 

Slowly, through sheer force of will, He blinks. The sound of the wind over hills, the wildlife of earth disappears and it's replaced with talking, gears, engines and mechanical components. His energy field flickers like a dying flame. He slumped, utterly spent. 

"I'm...sorry. Not meant for time-hopping. Dangerous." He rasped shakily against Rattler's plating, optics dim and blurry. Never had his outlier gifts backlashed so violently. He never had trouble with it when he was younger, but it was only ever little jumps. What if he couldn't return?

Tony's mouth opens and closes, almost stunned at the scenery around them, Rattler holds Traxies close trying to sooth him. "Easy, easy. Think of your happy place, where do you feel happy" Rattler asked, trying to calm the young mech. "Easy Kiddo, it's alright, it's alright" Tony says softly. Their touch almost feels like the memory, similar to when the Ambassador would hug him.

This time he settles quicker, doesn't turn into a sobbing mess he had been when he had jumped to Earth, his optics flickering open, he gazed around also taking in the scenery, reading concern, his optics flicker up to the sky and there they are again, the Two unscared moons staring back at him. Traixes' vocalizer glitched. "Frag I've jumped, it feels like I'm losing control." 

He dared not think what becoming truly unmoored between space and time might drive one to. He needed to get back to his crew, back to Ratchet. But exhaustion weighed heavily on his frame as he slumped against Rattler. 

Rattler hadn't seen this in Millennium, it was Cybertron alive and beautiful as it once was. Tony stands there just looking stunned as he looks around. "Cybertron? But how...my ability, it never brought others along before!" Steadying himself, Traxies met their gazes, "I will get us back, I swear, frag im so sorry!."

"I think it's best if we find somewhere to lay low pits. I haven't seen this place in stellar cycles" Rattler states. "I second that" Tony's eyes watch the movement of such large bots in awe. "Whatever you do, don't put me on the ground!" The young man says quickly while trying to climb onto Traxies leg. 

Traxies’ leans down to grab the young man, helping him to get settled on his shoulder plating 

 "If I can remember how to get there I might know a place, Don't trust anyone, nor the mech we are staying with" Rattler states, he takes an uneven vent, "Ain't safe, not here at least, list of all for Him" Rattler states motioning to Tony. "Once we have somewhere safe then I'll try and get us some Fuel, ya look half offline Mech" The shuttler didn't like being here. He tries to push it away, optics flickering to Traxies. "Outlier?" He asked softly trying not to make a scene of it.  

Traixes nodded, His optics dimmed briefly at the question, but met Rattler's steadily. "Time and space are...difficult for me to fully grasp. Sometimes I slip between - it is not a talent I have mastered controlling, I'm sorry I brought you here." Shame washed his field.

“Ya don't tell anyone, if this Pre-war Cybertron Outlier isn't safe here, it's also best we switch over to Cybertronix, sorry Tony ” he explains and apologies to the human riding on Traxies shoulder. 

“Yea, yea. I get it, just keep me updated so I'm not out of the loop” Tony shoots him a nervous look, not liking The dread of being on another planet,  but he'd deal with it later.  

As they move through the streets a few mech's eye them, watching intensity, Rattler keeps an optic out trying his best to make sure he knows where Traxies and Tony were at all times, not wanting to risk them out here. When he finally leads them to a rather boring looking building, one that Rattler is hoping is the mech he's looking for. 

Rattler hammered his massive servo against the nondescript entry, venting gustily as he warily scanned their surroundings. Please let this rustbucket be home - his plating prickled under the stares, every sense attuned for threats. 

Finally the latch hissed open, revealing the Yellow and purple Combaticon within. His optics brightened in surprise that swiftly shifted to avarice as optics landed on Rattler's bulk. "Well, well! Never thought I'd see your aft round here after the last hoist, you elusive brute." Swindle's calculating smirk widened as he caught sight of the blue speedster and Organic standing rather close to him. 

Rattler growled. "Needa lay low, Swindle, and you owe me. We stay, you keep yaps shut an' servos to yourself. Clear?" He nearly demands while pushing past the mech. His field rippled warning at Swindle who huffed annoyance but stepped aside. His optics focus on the pretty blue bot who nearly sticks to Rattler's side. 

“Cozying up with an exotic beauty now, Rattler? My, my, standards slipping or is there profit to be had? And an organic too, you never fail to surprise!” Rattler rounded on him with an engine-rumbling snarl. “Watch it, Swindle. We stay one cycle, no more. Keep your grimy servos and optics to yourself, you hear?” His field radiated violence barely leashed. 

Traxies shifted closer to Rattler’s bulk, discomfort writ clear in his field despite Swindle’s conspicuous absence of Decepticon branding. This mech made his platting crawl worse than scraplets.

Swindle lifted his servos in a mockery of contrition. “Easy now, no need for dramatics. Yesh, what crawled up your booster .” His visor roved hungrily over Traxies once more before Rattler’s snarl deepened.“One cycle. Then we vanish, and your glossa with us.” Rattler rumbled, all too aware what kinds of “exchanges” interested Swindle most.

The three vanish into one of the back rooms, huddled together.  

Swindle sent out a private notice to one of his clients. // you'll never guess the treasures Rattler just dragged through my doors. A sleek blue speedster, practically untouched - if you catch my meaning. Plus an organic, a real live alien. And i know you have exotic tastes.//  

He sends another ping through. //Rattler's never stayed long. I can have them ready for transport within the joor. Knowing him he's going to do a fuel run shortly//

A response comes through only a few kliks after. //The speedster sounds very much one I would like, it's been a while since we have had a new one. But the organic…I want it alive, it be a lovely little message to a Mech which has been a truth thorn in my side. Have them ready within Breem. And this conversation never occurred, is that clear? I trust our transactions remain as discreet as ever, Swindle.// 

Swindle's engine revved. //Perfectly clear. Credits it is then. My docking bay, one Breem.// He cut the comm. After all, now it was the waiting game. 

________

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[reallygroovyninja]

Fan-fuckin-tastic 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Oh Everly I hope you never change and continue driving your mommies crazy

Clarke and Lexa were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on their morning coffee. They had just finished discussing with Everly about not using certain words after her latest outburst of colorful language. Both were trying to figure out where their daughter had picked up certain words.

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I still can’t believe she knows all those words. We don’t even use half of them.”

Lexa chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Well, we’ve got quite a diverse group of friends. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but still… We need to know who’s responsible for what,” Clarke said, smirking. “So we can properly blame them at the next gathering.”

“Let’s see… Raven was definitely the first one. Remember when she babysat Everly for us?” Lexa started, a smile tugging at her lips. “I think fuck was the first word out of Everly's mouth before Raven even left that night.”

Clarke nodded. “Oh yeah. Raven doesn’t even try to censor herself.”

Lexa took a sip of her coffee, thinking. “Anya’s next. She said shit when she spilled coffee on her new shirt. She was furious about the stain.”

Clarke laughed. “Of course. Anya always did have a thing about keeping her clothes looking brand new. And then there’s Lincoln. Everly picked up asshole from him when he was ranting about some jerk who cut him off in traffic. He went on and on about how only an asshole would drive like that.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought Lincoln was more careful with his words around the kids.”

“He usually is,” Clarke replied. “But that day, he was just having none of it.”

“Alright, and Octavia? What’s her excuse?” Lexa asked, curious.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Octavia was in the middle of one of her rants about the PTA. She called one of the more annoying members a cock blocker because she was frustrated with their constant interference.”

Lexa burst out laughing. “Of course, it had to be the PTA. One of the few times Octavia ever curses is when it involves them.”

Clarke suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh, and we can’t forget Monty. Remember the night we were all at the barbecue?”

Lexa’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Right! He was trying to start the grill, and it wouldn’t light. After about ten tries, he threw the lighter on the ground and shouted son of a bitch!’”

Clarke grinned. “Yeah, and Everly was right there, watching him intently. She’s like a sponge with this stuff.”

Clarke joined in the laughter. “Yeah, we should probably have a talk with our friends about watching their language around Everly.”

Lexa nodded, still chuckling. “Definitely. But at least now we know who to blame for each word.”

[nkjemisin]

Things in my ask box #2

Got a new one for the “questions that might catch the poster some flak” bin. The poster asks, “What were you thinking when you wrote ‘The Ones Who Stay and Fight?’“ There was more to the question, but that’s what it boils down to (and I did clarify with the ask-er that this is what they wanted to know most).

I don’t generally like to discuss readers’ interpretations of my stories. Art is subjective, and what one person loves another might loathe, sometimes for the exact same reasons. Also, half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing; sometimes I don’t notice a theme in my work until years later when a reviewer mentions it, or I re-read it long after publication. My mind works in mysterious ways, even to me. But since you asked what I was thinking and not to confirm/deny a particular interpretation, I’ll try to explain.

(First, for those who haven’t read it, Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” is her most famous short story, and probably one of the most famous short stories in the world. There’s a whole subgenre of responses to it, because it provokes such powerful reactions in readers, and I’m no exception. [I’m a huge fan of Le Guin, if you didn’t know from me screaming about her to anyone who would listen for like 10 years now.] If you haven’t read the story, you should; it’s probably available somewhere online. There are a million ways to interpret the story, and if you poke around for reviews or lit crit analyses you’ll find feminist readings, anti-capitalist readings, mythopoeic/folklorist readings, and more. My story does not make sense if you haven’t read her story; it functions solely in conversation with Le Guin’s. Think of it as fanfic, if that helps.)

I’m not a literary scholar and I don’t pretend to be, but I’ve always leaned into the anti-capitalist reading of “Omelas.” Anybody who’s reading this in the developed world is already living in Omelas. Every time we buy a pair of Nikes, we’re contributing to sweatshops, child labor, migration crises, pollution... our own version of the abused child locked in a cellar. No ethical consumption under capitalism. Also, I lean anti-capitalist with “Omelas” because I think often of this quote by Le Guin:

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words.”

Bad. Ass. I want to be her when I grow up.

That said, when I decided to respond to this as a writer -- by writing back to it -- I was more interested in anti-racist readings of Omelas. Those interpretations don’t seem to be as popular, but at the time I wrote my story, I was trying to process the absolute bombardment of open racism and every other kind of bigotry that seemed to be metastasizing in the wake of Trump’s election. I pondered the world that these people seemed to want:  a world of war and endless suffering, doomed to end in extinction for us all (tho some believe Jesus or Jeff Bezos will whisk them away before things get too bad). I wondered what it would take to come back from that world, if we went down that path but managed to survive as a species. So to my mind, Omelas works well as a metaphor for conservatives’ (and fascists’) endless fantasies of the world that was, in which everything was wonderful before the “corruptions” of liberalism destroyed it -- corruptions like equality, diversity, intellectualism, religious freedom, and democracy. This is the “again” that the “make America great...” people embrace -- a “better” world that never existed. We all know that in the 1950s, there were plenty of kids in cellars, worse than today: BIPOC kids, queer kids, disabled kids, poor kids. If America’s wealthy and powerful get what they want, they will get to live in a utopian fantasy; the rest of us go in the cellar.

The society these people want is one that further-codifies the idea that some people are lesser. Some people aren’t as fully people, basically, and therefore don’t deserve rights, basic necessities, compassion, or life. Therefore I decided to make my “utopia” (scare quotes because, like Omelas, Um-Helat really isn’t) an anti-bigoted society, which has instead chosen to codify the idea that no one is lesser. Instead of its happiness depending on limited oppression, I wanted my “utopia” to depend on limited suppression of that insidious idea.

Suppression is no better than oppression, by the way. We’re used to oppression, so maybe it doesn’t seem so bad... to some. But both ways of maintaining these not-quite-utopias require harm to be done to some for the benefit of others. Omelas chose to limit the harm to a random child, and to a lesser degree to all its citizens, who must morally compromise themselves in order to enjoy their lives. Um-Helat chooses to limit the harm to those who’ve internalized some people are lesser -- the intolerant, per Karl Popper’s paradox of tolerance -- and to the “social workers,” who must morally compromise themselves in order for the other citizens of Um-Helat to thrive. I was also playing with the idea that there’s nowhere to walk away to. Imperialism and capitalism have made pretty much the whole world Omelas, in real life. So how does any society grapple with its own complicity with evil? Omelas is better off than our own world, and Um-Helat, because people can walk away, there.

It’s entirely possible that I failed to do what I tried to do with this story -- first because I tried to do so much. “Omelas” is a deceptively simple argument with deep, complex points being made; my attempt to answer had to cover a lot of territory. Second because Le Guin was a master of the short form, while I’m pretty much a dabbler, and third because this was also my first time trying pastiche, and it probably shows. But I believe in shooting my literary shot, hit or miss, and I’m glad that I did. It turned out better than I expected.

So that’s what I was thinking. ☺️

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for the @samsseptember prompt: On The Run (kind of) // Rated E CW: shaving with a straight razor, no injury but continuous mention of the razor // 3.8k words // Read on AO3

The Closest Shave (Excerpt)

Sam held the straight razor gently, examining the blade and all the familiar knicks in the wood handle.

“That thing looks older than me,” Steve said with a playful trepidation as Sam continued to fiddle with it.

“It might be,” he humored because he knew this was all a diversion tactic. He pretended to sharpen the blade on a discarded piece of Steve’s suit before he handed it over. “It was my grandpa’s. First thing he ever bought. Gave it to my dad, and I got it when I turned sixteen. Other kids got cars but…” He shrugged like the razor didn’t mean the world to him, like he hadn’t brought it with him to the end of the world. He was pretty sure none of his classmates could say that about their early aughts cars.

“Your grandpa had good taste,” Steve said. When he caught sight of the shaving cream and brush again, he attempted to worm an arm around Sam’s waist and tug him into a kiss. When that didn’t work, he begrudgingly lifted his face up to give Sam room to work. Such a drama king.

Sam pushed Steve’s hair back from his face, thought about telling him a trim was next but shelved it for another day, and instead cupped Steve’s jaw to kiss him. “I inherited it. The good taste,” he said, just to see Steve smile, which he did.

“How did I ever get this lucky?” he asked.

“I’m at a total loss,” he answered with a grin. “By all accounts, it doesn’t add up.” He dabbed out some pre-shave oil–that was new to the kit, but that didn’t matter–and slowly worked it against Steve’s beard. Sam knew the texture of Steve’s hair in and out and all the way through. He knew how it felt when it was clean and when it was wet and when it was sweaty and when it was greasy. He knew how humid it had to be before it started to curl at the nape of his neck. He knew how his beard grew in slowly and then all at once and how coarse each day was.

Truly, Steve’s beard shouldn’t be less coarse than Sam’s, but Sam took care of his facial hair and Steve decidedly did not. Which was infuriating, especially to Sam’s thighs. The oil seemed more necessary for Steve than it did for Sam some days. It was odd to brush it through a long beard too. Sam hadn’t grown his beard out to any kind of length before. He didn’t need a lot of oil to soak into it and soothe his skin. Steve’s hair felt like wading through a jungle. Not that Sam was going to say as much because he’d just gloat about it for ages.

“You know,” Steve said, when Sam leaned around him to rinse his fingers off and let the oil sit, “if you keep this up, I’ll never shave myself again.”

“I’ll shave your eyebrows off if you don’t behave,” Sam threatened lightly. He stepped between Steve’s legs and took a second to just appreciate the man in front of him, with his twinkling eyes and easy smile. A bruise was already mostly faded from around his cheekbone, just a memory and a slight line from where the cowl dug into his cheek. “Actually, maybe I won’t see this through,” he said.

“Oh?” Steve asked, rubbing circles into Sam’s hip bones with his thumbs. The simple motion alone was better than any full massage Sam had ever gotten.

“Yeah, your mouth is really pink like this.”

“How pink?” Steve asked. Then slowly licked his lips like the teasing bastard he was.

Sam pitched forward a little unsteadily, aware of the oil in Steve’s beard but completely incapable of caring about it, and pressed his mouth against Steve’s gently until Steve opened up beneath him, hooked his legs over Sam’s hips and tugged him in closer. It made Sam’s body lit up and flush to life all over again, his heart tripping in his chest at the encompassing adoration he had for the other man. And the reciprocating devotion that was pouring out of Steve too and sinking into Sam’s bones down to his very soul. In another life… God, in another life, this could be every Sunday morning.

“That pink, huh?” Steve asked when Sam pulled back again.

“Behave,” Sam warned once more. The glint in Steve’s eyes said he was well aware that Sam was the one misbehaving, but he didn’t argue.

He unhooked his legs from Sam’s waist and sat up again, tilted his head back without being asked. He even held still as Sam painted on shaving cream. It had been a while since Sam had really used the brush and thicker cream. He couldn’t remember ever shaving someone else. Certainly never like this, with his grandpa’s razor and Steve’s knees bracketing his bare hips, hands warm and grounding against his skin. He was beginning to wonder just how he’d been so lucky too.

“This is really makin’ me feel like a dumb kid again, wasting money to get shaved at a barbershop instead’a just doin’ it myself.”

“Could you even grow facial hair before the serum?” Sam teased back. “Besides–” He finished spreading the cream on the brush over Steve’s cheek and then dragged it over his bare thigh slowly. “If you were getting this kind of treatment back then, the history books need a few revisions.”

Steve laughed, smile and eyes bright as he looked at Sam. “No, sir, you do know how to make it special for a guy.”

Sam gently wiped away shaving cream that was too close to his mouth. “Keep those pearls put away, soldier,” he teased gently. “Might drive a man to distraction.” He kept working, focused on covering Steve’s beard without excess.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve continued. “Have I told you recently?”

“Not recently enough.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated. “How did I get this lucky?”

Sam brushed cream over the tip of Steve’s nose and rolled his eyes. “Eyes forward, you ain’t sweet-talkin’ your way out of this one.”

Steve obliged comically, schooling his expression forward for two/tenths of a second before he leaned over to kiss Sam’s shoulder, which got shaving cream everywhere.

[polutrope]

For the modern AU holiday prompts @i-did-not-mean-to requested Beren + accidental drunkenness, and MoonLord requested Thingol, Beleg, Túrin, and Mablung + Decorating a tree. ~2.2k words, rated G. [The Edain in this AU are officially whatever age and relation I want them to be.] Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list (prompts closed). Beleria Cast of Characters

The flamboyant man at the booth in the back cried out, “Another round for the bar!” and Beren and Lúthien joined the patrons in a celebratory whoop.

Lúthien threw her head back and laughed as a server set two more two more beers on the table.

“I can’t believe this guy,” she said to Beren. “Who is he?”

“His name is Saeros,” the server answered. “A regular. I think he owns a record label or something. Celebrating a chart topper.” She smiled and cleared their empty glasses. “Enjoy.”

“No way,” Lúthien said, and left her mouth hanging open.

“What?” said Beren. Lúthien continued to gape. “What, what? You know him?”

“Yeah! Saeros Green. He offered my brother a record deal years ago.”

“And Daeron turned it down?” Beren asked.

Lúthien dipped her chin affirmatively with an air of pride. “He did. The guy is a smarmy bastard. Milks his artists for everything they’ve got. I mean, look at him!” Lúthien said, gesticulating with both arms in his direction. “Look at all that bling! And the red velvet suit, on a Thursday afternoon, really? Looks like he got in a fight with the Yule display at Mírdain Mall!”

“Ssshh sssh,” Beren said, giggling. “He’ll hear you! Anyway, I like him. Free booze!” He raised his glass in a toast and took a large gulp.

Lúthien was laughing when he lowered it. “You have foam in your beard!”

Beren grinned, making no effort to remedy the situation. “How do I look? More wizened?”

“Like an idiot!” Lúthien blurted, and laughed again.

She was so beautiful. Beren fell into a besotted stupor, staring at her face lit with mirth, listening to her musical laughter… he could die happy right here, right now, getting day-drunk with the most beautiful woman in the world—

“Beren,” she said. “Beren! Your phone is ringing!”

“What, birdie?” he said, surfacing.

“Your phone!” she said, and shoved it into his hand. “Someone’s calling you.”

He looked at he call display: Morwen Ethel-Wang. “Shit,” he said. “Shitshitshit.”

The call dropped before he could answer. Lúthien stared, awaiting an explanation.

Beren exhaled a long breath before giving one. “You remember a few months ago when we talked about my buddy Húrin’s son staying with us for a few days while his wife is at a conference in town?”

“Oh yeah!” Lúthien said. “When’s that happening?”

“Um,” said Beren. “Today. They’re at our place now.”

“Shit,” said Lúthien.

*

On the monitor, the minutes of the last City Council meeting swam in and out of Elu’s vision. He sighed. The permanent bikeway through Hithlum park had been voted down. Again.

His eyes drifted to the thick folder of letters his intern Beleg had dropped on his desk earlier, from the Hithlum Homeowner’s Association — all variations on the same template, laying out the supposed dangers of a “bike superhighway” through a “family-oriented” neighbourhood. Since when were bicycles dangerous? He pushed the folder aside. Well, they got what they wanted.

It was those damn developers from Valin! Hithlum used to be the alternative neighbourhood back in the 80s, where the artists and students hung out, now it was overrun with wealthy— Elu took a deep breath. He valued the diversity of Beleria. He did. But by god if it didn’t make it impossible to get anything done in this city! You would think, as Mayor, that your word actually meant something—

His phone pinged.

Lúthien💮💗

Hey papa! I know you’re working but I have a biiiig favour to ask.

3:14pm

Elu Singh-Goel

What is it, sweetie?

3:15pm

Lúthien💮💗

Sooo Beren has this friend and his kid was supposed to stay with us this weekend and we kinda forgoy

forgot*

Anyway him and his mom are at our place now and we’re… not lol

3:16pm

Elu Singh-Goel

Oh? Where are you?

3:18pm

Lu?

3:21pm

Lúthien💮💗

Sorry!!

We went to Gabilgathol for lunch and accidentally got drunk

3:23pm

Elu drew back from his phone. That was not like his daughter. It was times like these he found it most difficult to accept her choice of partner. Beren was an admirable man, with respectable ambitions, but he was so young. Accidentally drunk…

Lúthien💮💗

Some guy was buying rounds for the house lol

3:24pm

Elu Singh-Goel

I see. And how do I come into this?

3:25pm

Lúthien💮💗

Can she bring Túrin to the office?

3:25pm

Túrin is the kid

Just for a couple hours! Nellas says she can take him tonight if we’re not sobered up

hahaha

3:26pm

Beren says he’s quiet. Just give him some crayons and paper.

3:28pm

Elu’s thumbs tapped out ‘OK’ before his mind had a chance to catch up. He stopped them, hovering over the send button. What had happened to him? There was a time he would have locked Lúthien up in her room for the weekend for getting drunk at 3pm on a Thursday! — but he couldn’t very well lock up an adult woman. Certainly not one he was going to lose.

Well, not lose. Not entirely — that had almost happened, when he’d tried to talk her out of marrying Beren, but he’d soon repented of that mistake when she disappeared for two weeks without a word to anyone. A cold current shivered down Elu’s spine. That had been a terrible winter.

But now, every day was another closer to her and Beren moving to Dead Man’s Isle. It was ridiculous: she had not needed him nearly half her life now, and yet Elu’s heart dropped when he thought of her so far away. Not around the corner, not where he could drop by on an evening stroll to say hello with a container of leftovers or a tin of Melian’s homemade lembas biscuits.

Because of all this, he had become a complete sucker and lost all ability to say no to her. And damn it if she didn’t know it, he thought with a rueful smile.

Elu Singh-Goel

OK.

3:26pm

Lúthien💮💗

Omg thanks so much papa!!

Beren will tell Morwen to bring him by

3:26pm

Elu Singh-Goel

Don’t to worry about it. I think I can send my intern to pick them up. Tell them to wait at The Dimbar.

3:27pm

Elu set the phone down, then picked up the receiver on his desk phone and dialed Beleg’s extension.

“Hey big guy, what’s up?”

Elu smiled. He really ought to impress a more professional attitude on his interns (it’s what they were there to learn after all), but there was something… rejuvenating about this one’s breezy familiarity with him — and besides, it was good for the ego to have some carefree college student call you “big guy” once in a while when you had a pile of letters on our desk addressing you as “Your Worship”.

“Beleg,” said Thingol. “Would you be able to run a little personal errand for me?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I need you to go pick up a kid and bring him to the office.”

*

Half-an-hour later Beleg rounded the corner at the end of the hall, running with a lanky, dark-haired boy clinging to his back.

“Here he is!” Beleg announced, and let the boy down. “Túrin, the Master of Fate! Isn’t that right?” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “We outsmarted fate six times on the way over, didn’t we little guy?”

“Red lights aren’t fate,” Túrin said, in the tone of a child who thinks he knows better. “They are for controlling traffic flow.”

“Beleg.” Elu did his best to conceal his amusement with a frown. “I hope you were not racing lights in a municipal vehicle again.”

“No sir,” said Beleg. “No racing. All very strategic.”

“Mm, I don’t think I want to know.” Elu rose from his hair and came around the front of the desk. “It’s nice to meet you, Túrin. Welcome to the office of the Mayor. I’m Elu.”

Túrin did not look impressed, and made no move to take Elu’s hand when offered. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Túrin.” Then he turned back to Beleg. “Can we go on your computer now like your promised?”

Elu lifted a brow, for Beleg’s benefit, as he addressed Túrin. “He promised you, did he? Funny, because Beleg does what I tell him to do, and I do not remember telling him to do that.”

Beleg laughed, not sounding nearly as nervous as he should have.

“Oh.” Túrin paused, visibly processing this new information. “Well can you tell him to play games with me?”

Elu had to laugh at the boy’s quick tactical adjustment. “I’m afraid Beleg doesn’t get to play games at work. But, while he was off picking you up, I thought of something else we could do.”

“What?” said Túrin and Beleg at once.

“Well,” Elu perched on the desk so he needn’t tower above them, “in the storage room there should be one of those fake trees and a box of decorations. We used to set it up in my office every year. I’d forgotten all about it, but since we’ve got you here, Túrin, I thought it would be a nice thing to do. What do you think?”

Túrin seemed to be deep in thought.

“Hey!” Beleg nudged him. “Sounds fun to me!”

“I don’t know,” Túrin said. “I barely know you. Tree decorating is for families.”

“Oh,” said Elu. “I suppose it’s something families often do together, yes. But they can be set up by coworkers, too, or even strangers, like us. I bet we won’t be strangers when we’re done.”

“We didn’t get a tree at my house this year,” Túrin disclosed. “My dad is away for Yule so my mom said we don’t need one.”

“I see,” Elu said, beginning to lose hope in this venture.

“All the more reason to set one up here!” Beleg offered.

“Yeah.” Túrin shrugged. “I guess.”

“Excellent!” said Elu. “Beleg, why don’t you take Túrin down the storage and have a look for it?”

*

They were gone a long time, and Elu was just beginning to wonder if he should go looking for them when they appeared toting two large boxes — and another of the interns.

“Hope you don’t mind if Mablung joins us!” Beleg said cheerily, setting the tree box upright in the corner of the room. Mablung placed the box of ornaments on Elu’s desk. “He said he was bored, I said he could help us.”

“Of course, of course. The more the merrier!” Elu said absently, distracted by fiddling with computer speakers in an effort to get the music to play. He groaned and threw up his hands. “Can one of you young people figure out why these blasted speakers have turned themselves off again?”

To his surprise, it was Túrin who answered the summons, running around behind the desk to investigate.

“It’s muted,” he said almost at once, and tapped a key on the keyboard. The bouncy beat of I’m the Happiest Christmas Tree spilled from the speakers.

The other three laughed, but Túrin crinkled his nose and hit skip on the song.

Soon, Beleg and Mablung had the tree set up and were arguing about the best placement for the string of lights. Once that was decided, they turned to debating how best to balance the bauble distribution.

Túrin seemed more interested in rooting through the box for the most unique ornaments. Elu watched him wistfully. He had not realised how much he missed being around children and their infectious wonderment at the world.

“I like this one,” Túrin said, pulling out a golden dragon. “My dad has one like it.”

“Oh, yes, very nice!” Elu said. “Why don’t you keep it?”

“Really?” said Túrin, his face brightening. He did not wait for confirmation before he shoved it in his pocket.

“Hey, what’s this now?” Beleg ambled over. “Mayor Man is giving away his ornament collection? Mablung, let’s see what’s in here!”

Beleg peered into the box, shoving aside some silver baubles and pulling out a long black icicle.

“Oh, sick,” he said, letting it dangle from a finger. “This is some goth sh— stuff.”

“Interesting,” said Elu, watching the strange ornament twirl. “I am not sure where that one came from.”

“Ohh, mystery ornament!” Beleg enthused. “Can I have it?”

“Really, you want that?” Mablung put in. “That’s weird, man. It looks like a weapon.”

“No way, it’s cool!” said Beleg.

“Well, if you want it,” said Elu, “I certainly don’t.”

“No, I want it!” Túrin shouted, and closed his fist around the icicle.

“Hey, kid, whoa, easy,” said Beleg. “You could just ask nice—!”

Beleg screamed. The ornament flew towards the ceiling, then arced back down and shattered on the floor. Túrin careened and toppled backwards, just missing Mablung lunging to break his fall.

Beleg gawked at his finger, which was bent backwards as a very unnatural angle.

“You dislocated my finger!” Beleg cried.

“Damn,” said Elu, and he was thinking neither of his injured employee nor of the crying child on the floor, but of the weeks of workplace accident reporting paperwork he’d just created for himself.

[abbatoirablaze]

Criminal Minds, Season 1, Episode 2

Word Count:  2.1k

Warnings:  mentions of death, arson, angst, mentions of secret relationship/cheating.

Vanessa Jareau

“McGowan doesn’t want to take the case, and my unit liaison has made sure to pass it off, but you need to see this JJ,” you frowned, looking at your older sister, “it-“

“Ness, you really can’t be trying to pass off your own agenda for a case onto me,” she frowned as she pursed her lips, “I know that there are certain cases that hit everyone differently, but-“

“JJ, listen,” you said quickly, cutting her off, “McGowan doesn’t want to take it because he doesn’t want to be stuck on a college campus with a bunch of kids and Hughes straight out refused because he doesn’t think that it’s a serious thing because there’s only been a handful of fires with no real deaths until now...but this is a serious arsonist.”

“Arsonist?”

You nodded and queued up the video.

“Bradford college in Tempe Arizona,” you said quickly, explaining the situation to her, “a student recorded the fire that was in the building across from them, when their dorm caught fire.”

Her eyes nearly bulged, “what?”

The video started off a video of the building across from them which was ablaze, and two students wildly asking if the other was seeing what they were seeing.  And then they heard the clicking coming from the opposing side of the room.  The doorknob was turning, and then something was being poured under the door.  One of the kids commented that it smelled like gas, before it lit.  The student began screaming and the roommate put down the camera to put him out. 

You stopped the video and looked at your sister, “he died, JJ.  First fire that the unsub started that killed someone, but it’s a progression.  One that’s finally claimed a life.  I think the first fire that they recorded was a diversion...something to draw the attention away so that the unsub could go for the real target.  I think the unsub’s real point was to kill these students.”

“Alright, you have my attention,” she sighed, “Hughes and McGowan really refused these?”

“I know that Anastasia tried to convince McGowan, but it didn’t work,” you frowned, “and Smith didn’t even bother trying to sell it to Hughes...just gave him the choice.  I thought liaisons were the one that chose cases.”

“For the most part we are,” she frowned, “but if a team leader is aware of a case that requires their attention more...they can pull rank and go on that assignment.”

You took a deep breath, “Can you just look at the case file?”

She sighed and held out her hand, “I’ll put it in my stack, but I can’t promise anything.  Gideon and Hotchner don’t usually interfere when I pull up an assignment though.  They trust my judgement.”

“Thank you.”

“You owe me!” she smirked, walking away.

“I love you and you’re the best big sister ever!”

“Tell me something I don’t know!” she laughed, walking off and out of your office.

“Well, we took the case!”

You sighed as you took a drink from your water bottle, “thank god...I knew that my team wasn’t going to take it, but with this many fires...the first starting in March...it’s escalating, Garcia.”

“You’re right,” she frowned from her side of the video call, “I just got a call from the team.  There was another fire.  A professor died as a result of it.  They think that he was targeted, but they don’t know why.”

You gasped, your throat instantly feeling tight.  You bit your lip, “wh-what?”

“Yeah...so I guess it’s good you convinced JJ to take it,” she frowned, “Otherwise, they’d be yet another step behind them.”

“Jesus...”

Penelope removed her headphones from her ears and looked at you, “Oh god...Ness...I-I think something just happened...”

“What?”

She unplugged the headphones and turned up the speaker, so that you could hear the message “you have reached the FBI tip line for the Bradshaw College fires:  Karen.  I do this for Karen.”

“Did that jus-“

“Yup,” she said nervously, “wh-who’s Karen?  Is she the stressor?  Is she-“

“You would not believe how many calls I received today that claims the arsonist is a firefighter!” JJ laughed as she came into Garcia’s office. Both of you froze on your call, and you could see the question in her eyes.

“Jennifer...” you said nervously, looking back behind your friend to your sister through the camera. She immediately stopped laughing as she read the reactions from you and Penelope.

“What’s wrong?”

Penelope replayed the audio, and you watched as your older sister’s stomach dropped, “the unsub.”

“The unsub.”

“Ness...I love you, but I have to go and call my team,” Penelope apologized, “I’ll call you back when I have more leads.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “I’m waiting on my team to call me back, so I’ll dig further into the school’s registrar to see if I can find out any connections to a Karen.”

“Thanks!” she said quickly, “call me back if you get anything.”

Samantha Reid

“Sammy...what are you doing here?”

You turned around in your brother’s chair, “waiting for you, goofball...”

“Are you...going to introduce us?” Morgan teased slowly.  You could practically feel his eyes wandering up and down your body though your own gaze was caught on someone else entirely.

“Samantha...”

“SSA Hotchner...”

“He needs help...”

“I’m sorry, Doctor Reid, but I can’t give your brother special treatment,” one of the instructors, and supervisory special agent Aaron Hotchner frowned, “look, your brother did great in the classroom-“

“Aaron, please,” you all but whimpered, your hand falling onto his bicep.  He bit his lip, and his poker face fell away, “please...Spencer won’t listen to me...and I know that you could help him out on the more...physical side of the job.”

“Samantha...this-I can’t be doing you any special favors...”

“It’s not for me.  It’s for him.  I know that I’ll be fine when it comes down to it, but he’s not--Spencer is an asset...he’s just not a meathead,” you said slowly, “you’re only doing the bureau favors by offering to help him.  H-he can’t wash out, Aaron.”

SSA Hotchner looked around the empty gym for a moment.  When he noticed that the two of you were the only ones left he sighed, nodding to himself, “I’ll approach him and offer to tutor him, Samantha...but if he says no-“

“He won’t,” you said quickly, cutting him off.  You leaned up and kissed him softly, “my brother--he’s an idiot sometimes, but he knows he needs help.  He just wouldn’t be the one to ask for it.”

His eyes fluttered open softly, and you found yourself nearly melting into his doe eyes and long lashes, “you know...it’s a mood killer when you talk about your brother and kiss me...if I were to analyze that-“

“Don’t get all Freudian on me, Aaron!” you teased, gently pushing him.  He was quick to wrap his arm around your waist and your eyes met once again.

“Hayley is out of town for the week,” he said slowly after a second, “she’s spending time with her sister...”

Your eyes met his and you bit your lip, “I thought you said it was a one-time thing, Aaron...us...doing that...”

“I don’t want it to be.” he admitted desperately.

“You’re married, Aaron...”

“You didn’t have any issue with that a second ago when you kissed me,” he pointed out, “or when I kissed you back.”

“Aaron...”

“I know what really happens when she visits her sister...she does the same thing with some other nameless man, while you and I run around together,” he frowned as he tried to explain his case, “we fell out of love with each other years ago, Samantha...”

“Then leave her...”

“I would,” he said slowly, lacing your fingers with his, “I would if I knew where this was going...if this was going somewhere...”

“You two know each other?”

“Dr. Samantha Reid,” Hotch said quickly, glaring you down, “everyone, this is Reid’s twin sister.  She’s on one of the other teams, also working for the BAU.  I’m sure you have seen her around before, haven’t you?”

Morgan sputtered, giving you a double take, “twin sister?”

“We’re fraternal,” Spencer said quickly, “it means that unlike identical twins, we don’t look alike, and developed from two different eggs, and we only really share half of our genetics.”

“And yet they’re both geniuses?”

“They say that intellect derives from both the combination of genetic and environmental factors,” Spencer said quickly, “and we ended up sharing a similar environment and-“

“Well, I’m more well off socially,” you smirked, nudging your brother, “and I’m obviously the prettier one.  So our environments were a tad skewed from each other.”

“You can have your social skills and vanity,” Spencer scoffed, “I still edge you out by four points intellectually.”

“Four points,” you scoffed in return, “on your best days maybe.”

His smirk only grew as he pointed out, “four points still counts, Sammy.  It means that I’m the smarter one.  And the older one.”

“Age has nothing to do with intellect you neanderthal.”

“A neanderthal that is still smarter than you!” he teased.

“Wow, there really is two of them...”

“I’m sorry, can we back up to the part where Reid has a hot twin sister.”

“Careful with the wording, Morgan, Dr. Reid also works for the bureau,“ Hotch growled, “she’s on McGowan’s team.”

Your eyes caught his, and you sensed the slightest bit of anger, mixed with a tinge of jealousy. 

“I just hung around after I finished my paperwork,” you said softly, looking at your brother, “got your text about your flight and figured you’d want to get a late dinner.”

“Sure, I just hav-“

“Dr. Reid, could I see you in my office, please?” Aaron asked, cutting your brother off.

“Me, or-“

“Samantha.”

The two of you shared a look for a moment, and the rest of his team seemingly backed off.  You nodded and stood, following the team leader out of the bullpen and to his office.  Closing the door behind yourself, you watched as he closed the blinds.

“I know that-“

“What are you really doing here, Samantha?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your brow furrowing, “I came to see Spencer.  He told me that they were getting in, and I figured I’d stay for a little bit and-“

“We had an agreement, Samantha.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, “look, Aaron, I know that you don’t want to be around me, but we both work here.  It’s going to happen where we see each other around the office from time to time.”

“I was ready to leave my wife for you, Samantha,” he admitted angrily, “this isn’t just about me being upset that you’re in the office late.  I was ready to leave Hayley and-“

“And then you got her pregnant, Aaron!” you hissed, “so really has the moral high ground here?”

“Samantha...”

There was an air of tension in the room as the silence took over.  He looked away from you and your jaw clenched, “I was willing to put my career on hold...was willing to go into being a liaison and stay out of the field so that we could have a relationship, Aaron...because you were worried what would happen to me if I was a field agent...and you knocked Hayley up.  You decided that we couldn’t move forward with our relationship.  So, you don’t get to act hurt...because the only one that lost anything was me.”

“Samantha-“

You were quick to pull away from him as he reached for your hand, “don’t touch me, Aaron...”

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you, Samantha.  I didn’t know that she would get pregnant.  I-“

“How couldn’t you know?” you asked, “You were having unprotected sex with her.”

“She told me...she said that she was on the pill, okay?” he asked, “she knew that I was going to leave, and she tricked me...”

You shook your head, “you don’t get to play the victim card, Aaron...you still could have left her after she miscarried the first time...but you felt guilty...you asked her if you could try again...you still love your wife.”

“Sam-“

“No...I don’t fault you for it, Aaron...but I-you don’t get to be the one that is hurt because of it...” you said slowly.  When he didn’t respond, you shook your head, wiping the tears from your face, “now...I-I’m going to go out there.  And I’m going to take my brother to dinner...and we’re going to keep ignoring each other.  Just like we’ve been doing for the past two years, okay?”

“Samantha-“

“Aaron...”

“Fine!” he huffed sadly. 

You nodded and started towards the door.  But your heart broke just a little when you were about to open it.

“Just so you know...I never stopped loving you either, Samantha...” he muttered, “she may have the ring, but you were the only one to ever truly have my heart.”

S1 E3