#enjoy some very sickly sweet old men

[honeybeefae]

7 Minutes In Heaven (Bat Boys x Reader)

Summary// After a night of drinking and a confession that friends should not say to each other, you find yourself on the receiving end of your three best friend’s wicked desires to make sure you are taken care of.

(Hoooooly hell this was a LOT to write and it took me so long but I am so happy with how it came out. 16 pages, 5K words, and I really hope you guys like this. This is obviously just pure smut but we all know that’s why you’re here. ;) Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Foursome, Double penetration, Spitting

The fire was roaring in the hearth while the smell of bread and wine filled the cabin air. Rhys, Cass, Az, and you were all sitting in a circle by the couch as you joked about old memories, the outside world seemingly far away as you took a relaxing breath and enjoyed the company of your friends.

You had come up here after your father had surprised you with an arranged marriage back in your birthplace within the Court of Nightmares. Despite your job with the inner circle he still felt as if he had control over you and you were lucky that Rhys had been there to swoop you away and hide you here.

It had been three days since then and you had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The four of you were as close as could be and you were thankful they had dropped everything to help you out and be a shoulder to lean on.

Four wine glasses lay empty beside each of you though none of you were drunk by any means, the conversation light and mellow as you reached for the half-empty bottle beside Rhys.

“So, Y/N,” Cassian began, smirking when you rolled your eyes at his prying tone. “Who were you going to be wed to?”

“Really?” Rhys deadpanned. “Do you have to kill the mood?”

“It’s okay. I know he can’t help his gossiping ways.” You say sickly sweet, drinking down the red liquid faster than you should’ve. “It was some friend’s son of Keir’s. A terrible man no doubt looking to climb ranks like the rest of them. And with me being the only daughter of my father, you know he was looking to make alliances to secure his power as well.”

“They’re all like that. It’s pathetic.” Azriel grumbled from his spot on the floor.

“The men are the worst of them all, treating us daughters lesser than.” You snort and lean back on your hands. “It just sucks that us women are caught in the crossfire of your pissing contests.”

“Our pissing contests?” Rhysand echoed, arching his brow as you waved your hand in the air to gesture vaguely.

“Men in general. It’s so much harder for us than it is for you when it comes to scenarios like this. You guys get to go and do whatever you want, fuck whoever you want, etc., while we have to be everything all at once lest we ruin our family image.” Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head in irritation as you ranted to the group.

“If I were a man I wouldn’t have to put up with being treated as a mere breeding sow or a stepping stool to a higher purpose. I could take what I wanted.” They were all watching you with amusement as you crossed your arms over your chest, glowering. “For example, I bet the three of you never once got lectured on the importance of maintaining your purity for a woman or how to please them properly.”

“Well, no, but-” Cassian tried to interrupt but you raised to sit on your knees and snapped your fingers in exasperation, cutting him off.

“Exactly my point! It’s a sexist, ridiculous outlook on women as a whole. We shouldn’t be made to feel bad about wanting our own pleasure when you lot can take part in yours whenever you please.” You realized too late how you had completely derailed the conversation and glanced at your now empty glass of wine, making a note to keep it that way.

“You certainly have very strong feelings towards this subject.” Rhys pointed out, his violet eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I didn’t realize this was such a sore topic. Shall we join you in your celibacy?”

All three of them laughed and you felt your face heat in embarrassment. It was your own fault for making it such a big deal and you were starting to regret the ammunition you had just given them. You rushed to defend yourself from whatever picture they were painting of you. 

“I’m not celibate, I just-” You tried to get out, your voice cracking as you considered your words.

Three pairs of eyes stare at you as you clear your throat and straighten your spine, finding a small stain on the rug underneath you to focus on. “I mean that in the sense that you don’t have to feel obliged to do that since I’m not. I just think the issue needs to be talked about more.”

“The issue of your sex life?” Azriel quipped, grinning when you threw a pillow at him.

“No! The issue of the scale of men and women.” You retort with a flip of your middle finger. “Can we just change the topic?”

“I just can’t believe you’ve actually had sex with someone. What would your mother think, Y/N?” Cassian faked a dramatic gasp and you resisted the urge to chuck the glass bottle at his head. 

"Listen-” You try to cut in but your pleas fell on deaf ears as all three of your best friends started to gang up on your blushing state.

“You have had sex before right?” Rhys smirked devilishly. “Touching yourself doesn’t count, it takes two people.”

“Or more.” Azriel gave you a wink and you blushed crimson, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to regain control of the situation.

“Yes, yes. I’ve done it before with someone else.” You felt self-conscious even admitting to that and you could tell they wanted more details. Before they could even ask though you held out your hand to silence them. “Why am I in the hot seat? Can we move on to someone else? Or a new topic entirely?”

“Oh no, this is very interesting. I want to know more.” Rhys raised an eyebrow, shooting his brothers an amused glance as you shook your head.

“Well if it’s so interesting how about I ask you how many people you’ve had sex with, hm?” You challenged your High Lord, blinking in surprise when he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“I have no problem telling you how many. What was it you said, we shouldn’t be made to feel bad about seeking our own pleasure?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as you puckered your lips in silence. “I would say at least thirty.”

“Thirty?!” You were shocked.

“If you think that’s scandalous you really don’t want to hear Azriel’s…or Cassian’s.”

“How do you even? Were you courting all of them?”

Rhysand snorted while Cassian and Azriel grinned, the former laying sideways and propping his head up on his elbow. “You do know you don’t have to be courting someone to fuck them right, princess? Sex isn’t magically unlocked by writing poems and delivering flowers.” Cassian teased.

“I know that.” You snapped, frowning. “I just don’t see why. It doesn’t even feel that good.”

The room immediately fell into silence and your body tensed. All three of your friends were staring at you, mouths open, with shocked expressions. You brought your knees up to your chest, a comfort action, as Azriel cleared his throat and clicked his tongue.

“What doesn’t feel good? Sex itself?” He questioned, watching you shrug. “How many people have you had sex with, Y/N?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You went on the defense immediately, knowing they would laugh. However Rhys held out his pinky for you to hook, his face serious as he promised you that no one would make fun of you.

You mulled over lying or not but you knew they would be able to tell. It wasn’t something you were proud of but you truly never got the appeal of it. A few girls back in the Court of Nightmares were constantly bragging about it but you didn’t get the desire.

“Two.” You whispered, wincing when Cassian almost choked on his drink.

“Two? Did you say two?” He said hoarsely, hitting his chest with an open palm to clear his throat. “How old are you?”

“Why does it matter?” You ran a hand over your face frustratedly. “Why is any of this relevant to our friendship? Yes, I’ve only had sex with two people. It was painful, lasted a couple of minutes both times and just left me feeling frustrated and used. I didn’t like it. Can we move on?”

They watched you and you saw their gazes turn from shocking to pitying. 

“So…no one has made you cum before?” Azriel whispered, voice tight as you closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“No, they aren’t supposed to.��� You said as if it were obvious. “I was always told sex is for the man, to make a baby. It’s not really something that we enjoy but we just pretend we do.”

“Oh you sweet, summer child,” Rhys cooed. “That’s….that’s just cruel. And not what sex is at all.”

You felt agitated, embarrassed, and frustrated all at the same time. It was like they all knew some secret that you didn’t, that they were teasing you again. The night was not supposed to have taken this turn but you had dug this grave yourself.

“I’m going to bed.” You huffed and began to stand, grunting when Cassian grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable or anything, Y/N. It’s just that is a very…shocking thing to hear.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as you glared at him.

“Are you telling me that you all care about the women you sleep with? That you make them cum every single time?” Your voice was tight as they looked at each other and then back to you, nodding. A snort left your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Another pregnant pause filled the room as you watched them, their eyes darkening while they looked you over. There was a noticeable shift in the air, your mouth suddenly dry as you squirmed on the floor.

“Would you like to see it, darling?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as Rhys’s words reverberated through you. They all had the same look in their eyes, one of hunger, but you were convinced they were messing with you. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You laughed without humor, your eyebrows knitting together in anger. “You all are assholes for teasing me, you know that? I’m going to bed.”

This time it was Azriel who stopped you though not with his hands. Two silky, dark tendrils of smoke curled around your arms and held you on the floor. It made your breath hitch and goosebumps rise on your skin as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Az, this isn’t funny.”

“We aren’t joking, princess.” Cassian purred, one of his hands wandering to your thigh as he made his way beside you. “There are many things we would joke about but your pleasure isn’t one of them…and trust me when I say that we would love to help you out.”

“What-all of you?” You asked softly as your gaze moved across all three of them. “I don’t…I mean you are all very handsome, obviously, but don’t feel obligated to-”

Rhysand sat in front of you and grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, the former dragging over your bottom lip as you held back a moan at the contact. Azriel’s shadows were drawing shapes into your soft skin while Cassian’s hand seemed to drift higher and higher, all the attention making your head spin.

Your High Lord knew it too, a smirk working its way to his lips as he bent down until he was a hairsbreath away from your lips.

“This is anything but an obligation to us, darling. This is pure, carnal desire in its rawest form. A primal need.” His voice was smooth as silk, your eyelids fluttering as his lips moved to ghost over your ear. “A desperate urge to take care of you until you’re drowning in pleasure.”

“Look at her,” Azriel growled from your other side, his hazel eyes appearing behind Rhys. He had on a wicked smile, his head slightly tilted as he surveyed you. “She wants it so bad.”

“Do you, princess?” Cassian asked teasingly, his hand stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Do you want us to take care of you?”

“Yes.” You breathed, your sultry voice surprising you as all three of them pulled away and grinned. All of their warmth and comfort disappeared and you almost let out a whine, wanting it back desperately. 

“How about we make this a game?” Rhys asks his two friends, standing tall over you. There was already a noticeable bulge in his pants that your fingers were itching to touch. “Seven minutes in heaven?”

“Person who makes her cum the hardest gets to fuck her?” Cassian finished, licking his lips. “Gods, I need to go first.”

However, before he could grab you, Rhys hoisted you up bridal style into his arms. You giggled as he looked over his shoulder and said, “Go ahead and start the timer. I won’t need all seven.”

The bedroom door swung open and then quickly shut again as you were pressed right against it, his lips on yours before you could make a sound. It felt so wrong and yet so right, your fingers immediately running through his midnight black hair.

“Stars above, you’re so beautiful.” He grunted into your ear as he kissed down your neck, his lips latching onto your pulse point while he shimmied off your pants. “I could smell how badly you want this.”

“Please, Rhys,” You whined, his fingertips ghosting over the wet spot on your panties. “Please touch me.”

He didn’t answer you by words but by actions, as he pushed your underwear aside to rub your clit with his thumb. It made your knees wobble from how good it felt. One of your hands came up to grasp his forearm, your head hitting the door behind you. “Oh my gods, that feels-I feel…”

“So fucking good,” Rhys finished for you. He kissed you hungrily, his own cock straining against its confines. Two more fingers dipped down and circled the entrance of your cunt before he thrust them in sloppily, choking back a moan. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his skin at the roughness of his motions, his upper lip curled as drank in every expression on your face. “Fuck me,” You gasped as a pleasure you had only read about overtook your body, those thick fingers curling each time they entered you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Never.” He promised. “I will never stop making you feel this good, never stop making you scream around my fingers. You’re mine. Forever.” His words were like ice to a burn as you felt a strong surge of ecstasy boil over. Rhys held you as you exploded around his fingers, working you through the best orgasm of your life with words of praise and soft strokes.

“That’s it, darling, that’s it.” You mewled at his tone as your pussy tried to swallow his fingers deeper. “Such a good girl. You did so well…”

“Rhys that was…I’ve never…” Your words were breathless as you watched him with hooded eyes, your lips slightly parted as he gave you a knowing smile and kissed you. It was loving and warm, like a blanket on a cold winter’s night, and you melted into it.

He threaded his fingers through your hair to deepen it, taking control, and just as you felt him start to rut into your thigh the door behind you shook with a pounding force.

“Don’t need seven minutes my ass! Time’s up, High Lord!” Cassian chuckled, his grin feline as Rhys opened the door with a glowering look. “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”

“Just remember who just made your eyes roll back, darling.” Rhys purred into your ear before kissing your cheek, purposefully hitting Cass’s shoulder as he made his way back out to the living room. You tried to follow him with your eyes but Cassian was quick to step forward and make you step backward., your thighs still shaking.

“Was it that good, princess? Or were you just pretending for him?” He teased as he strode forward, making you retreat until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell back, your smile growing when the general appeared over you. “You don’t have to lie, I promise I won’t tell.”

“It was pretty amazing…” You sighed as he rolled his eyes before sinking to his knees at the end of the bed. He threw your legs over his shoulders before you could process what was happening and by the time you tried to squirm away, he had you pinned.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere.” He growled as he gazed at your swollen cunt, your lips puffy and glistening. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess. Is it sensitive?”

Before you could answer he blew a cool breeze across your sex, making you jump. Cassian smirked and used both of his hands to spread you wide open. He leaned forward and spat on your clit, watching it mingle with your wetness as he inserted one finger. “Gods you’re making it so hard to be gentle.”

“Then don’t,” You urged, your pupils blown wide in desire. “Treat me how I deserve to be treated.”

Cassian let your words sink in before he dove headfirst into your pussy, three fingers roughly fucking into your hole as he scraped the hood of your clit with his teeth. It was sensory overload and you bucked forward with a small shout, your hands immediately fisting into his hair as he ate you out like a starved animal.

Every nerve in your body had already been shot but this was mind-numbing pleasure. It had you crying out for more, fucking his face as his stubble rubbed against your thighs. He was no better as he sucked and fucked your cunt until he could feel you start to tighten around him.

You hated how fast you were cumming but you also didn’t know if you could hold it any longer, your cries to slow down falling on deaf ears. Cassian swirled his tongue up and down, side to side, making sure to not waste a drop of your excitement. He knew how to eat someone out.

“Cass, Cass-” You tried to warn him, shifting your hips, only for him to tighten his hold on you. “Cass I can’t. I can’t hold it.”

“Cum all over my face, princess,” Cassian grunted as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your body already falling over the edge of the abyss. “Soak my beard, fuck my face, use me to get off. It’s all for you.”

Whereas Rhys had been sweet, Cassian was a little bit of both. It made you yearn for more of his degrading praise and you quickly found yourself following his orders, your hips rolling over his face as you came loudly.

The door started banging again but you didn’t care and neither did he. In fact, Cassian was so lost in what he was doing he almost lashed out when Azriel appeared behind him. You whined when he was pulled back but quickly settled when you felt cool hands running over your body.

No, not hands. Shadows.

Your eyes widened when Azriel’s hazel gaze appeared inches from your face. He had a dark look and an even darker smirk as his shadows lazily rubbed along your skin, his hands gently pulling off your top.

“Did my brothers fully satisfy you or are you still wanting more, mouse?” Azriel cooed into the empty room, tossing the last of your clothing aside so that you were now bare before him. “Answer me.”

“I want more.” You gulped, drinking precious air as the Shadowsinger tilted his head in wonder. “Please.”

“Who taught you those manners, pet?” He raised a curious brow while both of his hands cupped your sensitive tits, thumbs barely grazing over your nipples. It was enough to make you squirm though which he was counting on. “I’ll be happy to give you more but I want you to beg.”

“Beg?”

“Beg.”

You faltered at first, not sure what it was he wanted to hear, but when he went to pull away from your breasts you ran with it. “No, no, please keep touching me!” You whined, groaning when one of his tendrils of smoke circled your clit. “Oh, Gods, that feels so good.”

“I’ll stop if you don’t fucking beg for it, Y/N. I want to hear you tell me how badly you want my fingers. How greedy you are for already cumming twice but still needing more, like the dirty slut you are.” He sneered, his nostrils flaring as he resisted the urge to just fuck you then and there. 

“I am greedy! I want more, I want it so fucking bad, Az!” You cried, desperate for his touch to grow stronger. He was keeping you on the edge. “I am a, fuck, I’m a dirty slut. I want you so bad, so so bad, please.”

“You’re a quick learner.” He smiled before bending down and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth at the same time his shadows started stroking your slit. Your mouth opened wide in a silent cry of euphoria as he bit and nibbled his way over to your other boob, the pressure on your clit increasing with each second.

“I always knew you were dirty, mouse,” Azriel murmured as he gave a harsh suck, enjoying the way you arched into it. “Always knew this how you wanted to be fucked. Just look at this greedy little cunt, hm? Look at how it’s swallowing my fingers.”

You couldn’t see it but you could feel it as he thrust two fingers inside of you, the walls sensitive as he stroked them and found that special spot with ease. His fingers plus his mouth on your breasts was heaven as your head thrashed back and forth, your body desperate to just be fucked.

But he wasn’t going to give that to you. At least not yet. No, Azriel was focused on making you cum one more time. The tip of his tongue flicked over your hardened nub as his shadows came back to rub your clit, all of the stimulations becoming too much, too fast.

“Azriel, fuck!” You squealed as you came for the third time that night. This time you felt yourself ascend from your body, watching yourself from below as he worked you through it but didn’t slow down. “Ohhhhh fuck…”

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He growled as he removed his fingers, smirking when your eyes had that glazed look to them. You whimper as he picks you up gently, shushing you, then turning to see Rhys and Cassian waiting in the doorway. “I think she’s done for the night.”

“No…” You mumble softly, needily. “I want you…all of you. Please.”

There was a beat of silence as they considered your state and each other before you were brought back to the bed and spread out for their viewing pleasure. You felt like you were cock drunk at this point, especially as Rhys pulled his cock out right in front of your face.

You wasted no time in bringing him into your mouth, your saliva dripping out the sides of your mouth as you worked his cock up and down. Rhys threw his head back and growled, the room seeming to shake before he grabbed a fistful of your hair to help guide you.

“If your mouth is this good I can’t wait for your cunt.” He laughed airly before moaning once more, watching as Azriel stood to your other side with his cock standing proudly. 

The bed dipped behind you and before you could blink you felt Cassian rub his cock up and down your folds, words of praise or prayer spilling from his lips as he sunk in inch by inch. It felt amazing and you pulled off Rhys’s dick long enough to moan loudly.

“Shit, Cassian,” You groaned. “You’re so big.”

“You’re just tight as fuck, princess. Gods, I don’t think I’m going to fit.” He cursed, his fingers squeezing your hips as you whipped your head to look back at him.

“Make it fit.” You said lowly, your eyes narrowed in challenge which had him grinning. He gave you a shrug of his shoulders before pulling out and slamming back in, rocking your forward and straight into Azriel’s cock. He took advantage of the situation and forced you to swallow him whole, his biceps straining as you gagged and cried around his dick. 

“Look at you, look at the little whore you’re being for us,” Azriel said as you started to go back and forth between him and Rhys. Cassian was fucking you like a beast, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust. It was intoxicating in every sense of the word and you never wanted it to stop. “You like being treated like this, don’t you? Like our own personal fuck toy?”

“You’re doing such a good job, darling.” Rhys’s voice soothed, your heart beating in your ears as you gazed at him. “Taking Cass so well. He’s close, I can tell.”

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up.” The Illyrian General growled as he pistoned in and out. You could feel him in your stomach as you closed your eyes and let yourself feel. “Take it, Y/N, fucking take it.” He ordered as he finally stilled in you, hot ropes of cum coating your insides as you hung your head in rapture. 

He seemed to cum forever and when he finally pulled out, you watched his cum drip down onto the bedsheets from just how much it was. Cassian smirked and collected the leaking seed onto his fingers, holding it out for you to take before Rhys snatched it and sucked it off himself.

Rhys’s eyes darkened at the taste of both of you and he quickly yanked you to him, lying back on the bed and positioning you on top. He helped guide you onto him and when you started sinking down, both of your groaned. The rhythm was soft and slow as you got used to his size, your hands coming to palm at your breasts until you felt a nudge against your asshole.

“Shhhh, relax,” Azriel’s voice shushed as he spat on his cock, lubing it up even more before he started to press into your ass. “Relax for me, mouse. I want you to take us both together. Can you do that?”

You nodded, a stupid smile on your face as you leaned back into him for support at the intrusion. It felt weird but the longer you waited, the more pleasurable it got. Soon you were rocking on to both of them in need, your sex hungry for more as they started fucking you at the same time.

It was a fullness you had never felt before but you don’t know how you could ever go on without it. They worked beautifully with each other, their moans mixing with yours as Azriel replaced your hands with his own. Rhysand watched from below, his violet eyes burning with desire as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.

They were fighting over you and it was driving you crazy. And just as Azriel went to pull you back to him, Cassian appeared at your side with his cock in his hand. It was already hard and leaking and you wasted no time in shoving him inside your mouth.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Rhys praised. “Ride us, darling. Be a good, needy girl for us.”

“Our good, naughty little whore.” Cassian purred, choking when you took him down to the base. 

“Or just our whore.” Azriel growled as he smacked your ass, watching the recoil. “A whore we can use and abuse whenever we want.”

Their words filled your veins until you felt as if you were about to burst. You could feel a fourth orgasm coming, could feel the now painful clenching of your cunt, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. You had enough mind to pull away from Cassian’s cock before you let out a blood-curdling scream, your body collapsing on Rhys’s chest as you squirted all over them.

All at once, together, they also found their releases and followed you with reckless abandon. The sheets were soaked, as were the rest of you, as Azriel came in your ass, Rhys came in your cunt, and Cassian came over your back. You felt like you were leaking cum from every opening you had and you loved it.

You struggled to catch your breath as they all fell into bed beside you and Rhys, the smell of sex and cum permeating the room. Rhys’s soft hand stroked up and down your back lovingly while Cass and Az whispered praises. It was slow coming back down to Earth, to the three men who you had just slept with, and you realized that you never wanted to leave the room. Never wanted to leave them.

After a few minutes, you hear rustling before Azriel stands up and asks if anyone wants to shower, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when you sat up sleepily and said, “Second round in the shower?”

[artinvain]

vampire!sevika x witch!reader who runs into you at the library when she’s returning books. (no smut … yet!??!) men and minors dni

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:

Vampire!sevika who smells you, sickly sweet smell of a bakery, cigarettes and coffee. whose mouth starts to taste metallic. standing there and scenting the air, her eyes scrunched shut so no one sees the whites have turned crimson and her pupils are blown and black.

who tries to smile at you but feels her fangs extending a pain of hunger growing in her so she has to feed before she even comes near you.

vampire!Sevika who ignores all your advances with a smile and flippancy because she’s afraid she’ll hurt you if she gets too close.

vampire!Sevika whose hunting and spots you on a picnic, and has to claim she was hiking because she was caught staring.

vampire!Sevika who has to join you — seeing you alone in the woods too worrisome for her to leave you.

vampire!Sevika who then warms up to the idea of being around tou, not because she was dangerous but because she could protect you from things much worse than her

vampire!Sevika who starts leaving flowers at your work.

vampire!Sevika who is so used to providing she nearly cries when you send her your favourite book you “think you’ll really enjoy. It seems to match your old soul” with a plate of baked cookies on top.

vampire!Sevika who has her team watch out for you (as in stalk you 24 hours and report your movements back to her)

she thinks it’s the way you get to know someone — watch you , learn what you like so that she can anticipate your needs and be a good partner.

vampire!Sevika who thinks she’s ready to have dinner at your place when you offer.

and is stunned to see the sigils and candles, books and herbs inside, crystals lining the walls and refracting light into your living room.

When you stand silently at the door until she asks to be invited in, she’s immediately suspicious.

vampire!Sevika who’s been around long enough to realise you have a cloaking spell rune above your fireplace and knows she fucked.

because she doesn’t know anything about you — all her intel was messed with by your spell.

vampire!sevika who is now an entirely new level of nervous because not only are you intelligent and interesting and funny — you’re also more gorgeous than any face she’s seen in decades. eyes so unwarded and honest, skin soft and dewy. and your hands on hers — god it’s so soft—

and then she realises you’re asking about her daylight ring, you’re very fascinated you know about the type of rock that was used, it’s more popular century, the tiny runes inscribed de dismissed as aging.

vampire!Sevika who doesn’t stay for dinner when she smells your tea, the scent like burning razors in her nostrils. Vervain. A plant near deadly to vampires.

vampire!Sevika who excuses herself saying she has a cold and then receives a care package for her, which makes her realise the cookies you baked didn’t have any vervain in them. So she tries the food and it’s fine. more than fine it’s incredible. It makes her so hungry she has to feed.

vampire!sevika who only feeds on what she declared “scum of the earth,” she didn’t do it often at the risk of being caught but some nights, (like where she sees two men pulling a knife on a woman walking home from work — well with a knife it’s easy to make the deaths look … natural) she’s lucky.

vampire!Sevika who invites you over to her loft, it’s actually more dated than you’d expect. gold-yellow and red lilac and columbine flower wallpaper in the living room’s feature wall. With more modern pops in the furniture and essentials.

“A lot of your stuff is… antique,” you say smiling politely, a furrow in your brow. and Sevika laughs at the way you sit very very carefully on an old chesterfield sofa.

“I’ve reinforced them,” Sevika explains “they are old but, I can’t seem to let them go,”

“Family heirloom?” You guess, a lot of the stuff in here was too fancy to be sold at regular antiques in your area, which meant Sevika was rich, according to her furniture you guessed old money rich.

“that’s insane to have a family tree you can trace so far back you could have your own heirloom”

it was her brothers. they sat on it every night together in his first and only home, and talked in depth about nothing at all.

“My family is close, I am grateful,” Sevika says

the look in your eye. a twinkle of playful curiosity,

“and the ring is an heirloom also?” You ask, standing up to take another look around.

“this stuff if very english — your accent —“

”we moved when I was very little,” she interrupted quickly, that wasn’t entirely false. “I’ve lived here all my life,” that was lie.

you smile at her and quirk your head. she was so… guarded.

“what about your family?” Sevika asks, stepping toward you and guiding you with her hand on your lower back to the sofa. she opens a bottle of wine and pours it for you when she hears you say “salem” and nearly spills. you pretend not to notice and take the glass, thanking her.

“yeah, we fled during the salem trials, there was a much bigger pool of people then, than what’s documented,” you say and Sevika turns to you

”witches then,” Sevika says and lets a giggle slip when you say “of course, have you seen the way I dress?” so wooed by your boldness because yes, she has noticed the way you dress and she thinks you’re some kind of deity, the way your dresses and skirts fall over your thighs, and the way your jean overalls highlights your arms. she’s always mesmerised.

“you are a little whimsical, you sent me the metamorphosis by Franz kafka!” She rolls are eyes at the memory, she was kind of offended when she got it because really? but then when she read it with your note at the end she knew you were referencing yourself, explaining the way your mind works without really having to tell her. So Sevika is gentle with her words around you, makes sure your needs get catered to and makes sure that you always feel secure and loved. 🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @sevsbaby @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul

[babybatss-blog]

OH MY GOODNESS I LOVED UR SAM FICS, PLEASE WRITE ONE ABOUT LIKE HIM X READER IN THE FALL SHARING FLANNELS AND SWEATSHIRTS

BEGIN AGAIN

stardew!sam x reader, 1400 words

a/n: ahhhh omg you’re so sweet! Although it isn’t that important to the story, I based this fic on “begin again” by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy!

cw: predeveloped relationship between Sam and reader, confession of love. Mention of adult sexy time 😉 but nothing explicit. Slight angst into sickly sweet fluff. Reader is insecure, with mentions of past relationship and friendship struggles.

You tried to deny it, you really did. But walking hand in hand through town on a cold fall day the realisation hits you that you are inexplicably, irreversably in love with Sam. You’ve been together for a few months now, but honestly it was only really a casual relationship built on messy hookups and an innate need for physical affection. And even if Sam thought it was anything different you never intended to get very far with it after the last few years of your life. You escaped to Stardew valley to forget men, with their stupid player attitudes and outlook on relationships. Truthfully, you were perfectly happy with just becoming some single weirdo for the rest of your life. But this golden retreiver of a man just makes you so happy, blushing like a school girl and heart racing faster than ever before.

The mere thought of how down bad you are for him causes a shiver down your spine, and not just some small one but one that makes you physically shake. “Cold?” He asks, looking down to you with his bushy eyebrows furrowed. Without another word he takes his flannel off and wraps it around your shoulders, patting them with his big hands and grinning like a buffoon before holding your hand once more.

Honestly you didn’t even need it, but the way he thinks he’s some sort of knight in shining armor always stops you from protesting. You arrive at the town’s playground, a shabby swingset attached to a slide that’s cracked and rusted at the joints. It sure isn’t some masterpiece, but it does the job of entertaining the town’s children on the weekends. And Sam apparently, who lets go of your hand and leaps onto the swing. The scoots back in order to get enough momentum as possible and flies into the air, his blonde mop of hair flying off with him.

“Woo!! Join me?” You just chuckle, but join him nontheless, swinging much softer than he is but with the same pleased expression. The two of you swing in silence for a bit, with him enjoying the moment and you dreading it. How could you have let yourself go back to your old ways? It may seem great now, but in your head you already can see him confessing to cheating or breaking up with you because he’s bored. “So, you know the saying when pigs fly?” he asks. “Do you think we could actually make them fly? Like genetically modify wings on them and teach them like baby birds?” To the normal individual this seems like an idiotic question, but you’re used to his antics so you don’t even blink and respond casually with a “I hope not. Then I’d have to deal with trying to fish mine out of the sky every night when they need to go to the barn.” To this Sam laughs, throwing his head back as if you just said the funniest thing ever.

You don’t really think your very funny, and you never did. In school you were always the quiet kid, not because you are quiet but because you didn’t have many friends. Therefore, you just built yourself up to other things. You may not be funny, but your reasonably pretty. And smart, you did okay in school.

But Sam just makes you feel like the funniest person to ever exist, laughing at your words even when you don’t attempt to be funny. It makes you feel… nice.

Stuck in your thoughts though you unfortunately fail to conceal yourself once more, Sam realising the way you just completely ignore his following statements with a glossy look behind your eyes. “Babe, you alright?” He enquires, ceasing his swinging immediately to return to your level. You look up at him and smile softly, sighing. He had to realise sooner or later, and you couldn’t hide it from him anyways.

“Sam?” You ask, turning in the swing so the chains intertwine and you face him. He mirrors your movements, scooting so your knees are now touching. The warmth makes you uncomfortable in this moment, but you would never pull away from him. “If I say something weird… would you judge me?” Once again his eyebrows crease at your words, fearlessly shaking his head. “Of course not! Why?” That pit in your stomach grows until you feel sick, the words failing you as you look down at his jeans, which is all you can manage at this moment. “Your not breaking up with me are you?” The way his voice cracks almost brings a tear to your eye, internally cursing yourself for paining him so much. How could you do this to such a sweet, innocent man?

“No no no I just…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No Sam but I need to-“

“If you have an issue just say it I can handle it”

“I know you can its just hard cause-“

“Is this because I ate your pasta  the other day? Cause I thought you wouldn’t mind and I’m happy to-“

“Sam I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of your mouth like daggers, despite the sweetness they’re usually associated with. Every fibre of your being is fighting with one another, some parts happy the secret is out and others despising the pit you’ve fallen into. Yet you continue. “I think I’ve felt this way for a little bit, but I tried to hide it. I hate it, but I can’t anymore. You just make me so happy Sam, and I don’t know whats wrong with me. You drive me mad. I wake up thinking about you, and I fall asleep with the same thoughts. I imagine you moving in with me, marrying me and raising my kids. I feel insane Sam, but I can’t help it anymore. You don’t have to feel the same way, and don’t feel obligated to say anything. But I love you. I really do.”

A silence lingers in the cold air, flowing around like the brown and yellow leaves that fall onto the floor limply. You now get the courage to study his face, and every freckle and imprefection seems like it always has. If this is how the two of you are going to end, you don’t mind. You’ll still have every detail of his body engrained in your mind, along with how his face looks in this very moment. It looks as if he’s brain is about to explode, simultaneously going through every option and pathway that lead to this moment.

His deep blue eyes look up and connect with yours, piercing into your soul as if he’s reading you like a book. Finally he breaks the silence, a sympathetic smile adorning his cheeks. “I love you too.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, and just as it fully sinks in he envelops you in a hug. You begin to beam, heart beating like never before. Did he really just say that? The two of you simultaneously laugh, your hands palming his back and melting into his warmth. “Really?” “Duh! How could you think I didn’t? I literally spent my whole pay check the other day buying you flowers! And you know I hate flowers! And what about the time I wrote a six page card for your birthday, detailing everything about your face? I hate writing!” Despite the tears that threatened to leak out of your eyes previously you now cannot stop laughing, in disbelief of his words.

Sam tucks his head down into the crook of your neck, kissing it over and over again through smooshed words of “I love you” that vibrate on your skin, any prior discomfort flooding away under his touch. You smell like him, feel like him and breath like him, hands digging into his jumper out of pure extacy. Sam lifts you up by the thighs to put you on his lap, arms safely keeping you still ontop of him, and still kissing your neck and collarbone.

“I love you Sam.” “I love you too.” Despite the cold, grey of the sky and the muddy puddles below you everything feels perfect, in a bountiful fall you could never forget.

[sowingseedsandshootinghoops]

Oppenheimer: The Future of Man

Note on the text: I used American Prometheus: The triumph and Tragedy of J Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin as published in 2006 by Vintage Books

What an interesting person "The father of the atomic bomb" J Robert Oppenheimer was. He was multifaceted individual who was uniquely qualified- as a scientist and a man- to lead the world into the atomic age. One of the many lessons that I learned from his life is just how important it is for us to create a nurturing environment where we can live in peace and harmony if we want to bring the best out of ourselves as humans in the atomic age.

We see the seeds of this philosophy being planted in the very beginning of Robert's life. His parents, Julius and Ella, loved him and his younger brother Frank, a renowned physicist in his own right, as well as each other, a lot and they created a loving and nurturing home where Robert and Frank could grow and develop into the exceptional young men that they eventually became. A letter which Ella wrote to Julius just before they got married says it all: "I do so want you to be able to enjoy life in its best and fullest sense, and will you help me to take care of you? To take care of someone whom one really loves has an indescribable sweetness" (11). To her and Julius it was important that their boys lived full lives in the best sense of the world and they did their best to create a loving environment where Robert and Frank would feel encouraged to try things, explore who they were as people, and become the best versions of themselves.

To that end, they had no qualms about supporting their boys and encouraging them to pursue whatever their interests were. They would give their boys "every opportunity to develop along the lines of [their] own inclinations and at [their] own rate of speed" (15). Robert later said that he thought his father was one of the best and most tolerant people he had ever met, and that "his idea of what to do for people was to let them find out what they wanted" from life (15). When Frank became interested in Chaucer, his parents got him a 1721 edition of Chaucer's works, and later when he expressed interest in playing the flute the hired one of America's leading flutist, George Barer, to tutor him. Similarly, when Robert was 12 he started developing an interest in geology and would write to local geologists about the rocks he had found. This lead to a really funny moment which shows just how fiercely his parents loved him and how much they stood by him. Unaware of how old he actually was, the local geology club, which was made of experts in the field, invited the 12 year old to present a reports on some local rock formations which he had been studying. Instead of informing the club of its mistake, Julius

encouraged his son to accept the honor [and] on the designated evening Robert showed up at the club with his parents who proudly introduced him as 'J Robert Oppenheimer'. . . . [Although he felt] shy and awkward [at first], Robert nevertheless read his prepared remarks and was given a hearty round of applause. Julius had no qualms about encouraging his son in this adult pursuit (15).

The result of being raised in such a loving and nurturing environment is that Robert got to explore who he was and become the best version of himself. This allowed him on the one hand to become uniquely great in his field in a way that he couldn't have otherwise, and it also gave him a tougher skin when it came to dealing with the world. People who are confident in themselves tend to care less about what others think of them. It gave him a strength to face the world that he would not have otherwise had. So while on the outside the shy, weird, and slightly sickly looking Robert might have brittle, he actually had a strong inner toughness and a "stoic personality built of stubborn pride and determination, a characteristic that would reappear throughout his life" (21). The only way he could have gotten that type of resilience was by growing up in a nurturing environment where he was allowed to become his best self.

You see similar instincts at play when he started teaching graduate students physics at Berkeley. Because although he could be harsh at times he was much more interested in creating a nurturing environment where his students could become the best versions of themselves. He engendered a spirit of collaboration instead of intense competition where students felt emboldened to go to him, and each other, for help, and where people were encouraged to explore, and develop, their own talents and become the best versions of themselves. Just look at the story that one of his graduate students, Joseph Weinberg, tells about how he was able to uniquely nurture the students around him to become their best selves. One day, while in Oppenheimer's office Joseph was

rummaging through papers stacked on the trestle table in the center of the room. Picking out one paper, he began reading the first paragraph, oblivious to Oppie's irritated look. 'This is an excellent proposal' Weinberg exclaimed, 'I'd sure as hell like to work on it.' To his surprise Oppenheimer replied curtly 'Put that down where you found it.' When Weinberg asked what he had done wrong, Oppenheimer said 'That was not for you to find'. A few weeks later, Weinberg heard that another student who was struggling to find a thesis topic had begun work on the proposal that he had read that day. 'The student was a kind and decent man', Weinberg recalled. 'But unlike a few of us who enjoyed the kind of challenge that Oppenheimer threw out like sparks, he was often baffled, and nonplused, and not at all at ease. Nobody had the courage to tell him 'Look, you're out of your depth here.' Weinberg now realized that Oppie had planted this thesis problem for this very student. It was a distinctly easy problem. 'But it was perfect for him', Weinberg said, 'and it got him his PhD'. . . . Weinberg insisted years later [that] Oppie had nurtured this student as a father would have treated a baby learning to walk. 'He waited for him to discover the proposal accidentally on his own terms, to pick it up, [] to express his own interest in it, to find his way to it. . . . He needed special treatment and, by God, Oppie was going to give it to him. It showed a great deal of love, sympathy, and understanding.' The student in question, Weinberg reported, went on to do great work as an applied physicist (170-171).

It was this same attitude that made him an effective leader of the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos, New Mexico. He was an expert at creating a nourishing environment where everyone, from the leading scientist down to the lowest custodian, could do their best work and actualize their potential. He proved to be not only a great scientist, but a great motivator and leader. A lot of the problems that he dealt with on the Project were more personal than they were scientific. So whether it was at home, at school, or at the Manhattan Project, Oppenheimer understood the importance of creating a safe, loving, nurturing environment where people could become their best selves.

Now before going into how this same philosophy showed up in Oppenheimer's life after the bomb dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it is important to take a moment to look at what Oppenheimer's idea of community was and how it developed over time.

When he was in his early twenties, he read a line from Marcel Proust that stuck with him for the rest of his life: "Indifference to the pain one causes is the [most] terrible and permanent form of cruelty" (585). He was always aware of the obligation he had to make the world a better place, in whatever way he could.

His social conscious was something that was fostered in him as a young man. He went to school at the Ethical Cultural Fieldstone School from the ages of 7 till he graduated high school in 1921 at the age of 17. At the Ethical Cultural school he was surrounded by

men and women who thought of themselves as catalysts for a better world. In the years between the turn of the century and World War I, Ethical Cultural members served as agents of change on such politically charged issues of race relations, labor rights, civil liberties, and environmentalism. . . . Members [of the school community] were pragmatic radicals committed to playing an active role to bringing about social change. They believed that a better world required hard work, persistence, and political organization. In 1921, the year Robert graduated from the Ethical Culture high school, [its founder Felix] Adler extorted his students to develop their 'ethical imagination' to 'see things not as they are but as they might be'" (19).

In the early part of the 20th century members of the school community went on to do things like found the NAACP and the National Civil Liberties Union (the forerunner to the ACLU) and conduct labor strikes. So Robert grew up around people that were very socially conscious. These values only really started to show themselves in the 1930s when he became more politically active. He was never interested in politics per say, but in the ways in which he could help improve people's lives:

Beginning in 1936. . . my interests began to change. . . . I had a continuing, smoldering fury about the treatment of Jews in Germany. . . . I saw what the Depression was doing to my students. Often they could get no jobs or jobs which were wholly inadequate and through them I began to understand how deeply political and economic events could affect other people's lives. I began to feel the need to participate in the life of the community (114).

It was at this point became "devoted to working for social and economic justice in America" and abroad (152). It is at this point that we see his desire to create a nurturing environment where people can thrive reach the worldwide stage.

Fast forward to 1945. The bomb has exploded. In the early morning of July 16th, Oppenheimer becomes "death, destroyer of world" and with that he has to take on the responsibility of how to properly introduce the world to the power of the atomic bomb (309). It was his responsibility to help build a society of human beings that could not only survive but thrive in the atomic world.

Although he was aware of how powerful the atomic bomb could be, seeing the devastation that his creation caused for the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki really inspired him to take action. His feelings towards the bomb were initially very complex. He was never fully behind the idea of developing an atomic bomb, but he believed that it was his duty to do so before Hitler did. He thought that giving a genocidal maniac like Hitler such a powerful weapon would be the worst of all possible outcomes. But after Hiroshima he wasn't sure anymore: "We have made a thing, a most terrible weapon. . . a thin that by all standards of the world we grew up in is an evil thing" (323). More than that, he saw the explosions at Hiroshima and Nagasaki as mankind's final warning: that we must come together in a spirit of brotherhood and give up all our petty differences and hatreds or else we will die: "The people of this world must unite or they will perish. This war that has ravaged so much of the earth has written these words. The atomic bombs has spelled them out for all men to understand" (329). If humans are to reach their potential, then they have to create the loving and nurturing environment that they need now for such a change to take place.

Just like he did with his students, and like his parents did with him before, he believed he needed to help create a loving environment where humanity as a whole could evolve and become the best version of itself. HIs particular idea was to establish what he called "The Atomic Development Commission" which would be an international coalition dedicated to making sure that no nation would ever use atomic energy to build another bomb. It would ensure that atomic power would only be used to positive things that could be used in peacetimes. The key here, obviously, is that every nation involved in the Commission had to collaborate with each other. There could be no secrets, no underhanded dealings, everyone had to deal with each other in open and honest ways. He would spend the rest of his life trying to convince the world that this was the only way to actually move forward.

And so we find ourselves back to the place we started. It started with Ella and Julius creating a safe space where their kids could grow and flourish, continued into Robert's professional life where he attempted to create a nourishing environment where his students and co workers could become their best selves, and ended here- with Robert trying to create a safe and loving world where mankind could evolve into its best self. Love, in short is the answer. We need learn how to love each other and live with each other or else we are doomed. We'll see what happens next.

[baalzebufo]

those moments, sweetheart

woke up at 3am the other night and couldn’t sleep due to my brain overacting, so I decided to write it out. ended up with this saccharine kazumaji. it’s a lot more stream of consciousness than my usual stuff, but I figured someone else might enjoy it and I need to get better about posting my writing. contains two happily retired old men living on the beach together. they kiss

---

But he allows it. Allows Kiryu to plant another kiss against his forehead, too. It’s a tenderness that’s foreign to him. It feels like love. Love.

---

Warm. Clammy. The heat of Okinawa sticks to him like the drip of the grape popsicle that rolls down the line of his chest. It's a suffocating heat that he still isn't used to- it's only been a month. Hopefully he adjusts. He's always been adaptable.

Majima kicks his foot into the burning sand and recoils it back to the safety of the shaded porch. The view from their house on the beach is nothing short of breathtaking, but with the heat suffocating him like this, Majima can barely open his working eye to appreciate it. He scratches the red line on his face- still working on getting rid of that eyepatch tanline. He's been wearing it less here, at least at home. 

Home. The word leaves an uneasy aftertaste in his mouth, and he suckles the grape ice to wash it down, to replace it with artificial sweetness. Still it refuses to settle with him. Leaves his stomach fluttery and tossed like the waves a hundred yards from their shore. Maybe in time it will come to him- he hopes, at least.

His fretting thoughts are interrupted then by a soft yawn and the sounds of bare feet padding on wood. A shadow falls behind him and years of violence rear their head- he aches then to turn and strike before the knife sticks his ribs, to gouge and claw and show that he is worthy of the names given to him, a dog ready to bite. But he swallows that down, too. Holds himself. This is not Kamurocho. He is safe.

Kiryu lands heavy on the porch next to him, exhaling softly with the effort, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. Majima looks, runs his gaze up his body. His skin has taken to tan much quicker than Majimas- already he can see a dusting of freckles on his shoulders from the sun and Majima yearns for nothing more in that moment than to kiss them, to trace constellations between them and map Kiryu's body like an uncharted sky. He holds that urge down, too. Later, perhaps.

Instead Kiryu smiles at him through a haze of sweat and his hand finds Majimas, laying limply at his side. Fingers entangle and Majima cannot help himself. His head slumps, rests there on the shelf of Kiryu's shoulder and nuzzles. An arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him tight. Its sticky, a little unpleasant, but welcome. Words find Majima’s tongue at last.

'Ya okay?'

Kiryu simply hums, the rumble felt in his chest. His hand creeps up to brush the back of Majima's undercut, freshly shaved. It tickles, and he squirms under the touch- headbutting the side of Kiryu's chin lightly, he snorts. Kiryu rumbles something again, and it resonates as a purr to Majima, calming him. His eye feels heavy.

'Goro?'

Oh- he hadn't even realized he was drifting. Kiryu had asked him a question and he hadn't even heard it. Majima looks down at the purple liquid dribbling down his hand from the last dredges of his popsicle. He brings it up to his mouth to lap at the sugar.

'Mm- sorry, Kaz. Ain't used to this heat. Makes me dizzy.'

'I know…' 

Guilt. The unspoken sorry. Majima can't help but sense it in his voice. That tiny flicker of doubt- maybe he should never have taken Majima out of the life, maybe he shouldn’t have brought him so far from home and implored him to set aside the years of facade he built for himself. Kiryu feels selfish in this. Selfish in anything that brings him joy, really. Majima decides then and there he never wants to hear that in Kiryu's voice again- never. Never allow him to feel guilt over this. He turns to face him, and takes Kiryu's cheek in his hand. 

The sight makes him wish he still had two eyes. Kiryu, glimmering and sun-kissed, his face soft and smiling. Majima used to think Kiryu couldn't smile. He's been doing it much more since they moved here. It suits him, Majima decides. His brow relaxed and the sun catching off his eyes and glittering like the waves, casting the gentle swoop of his eyelashes onto his cheeks. The faintest hint of a wrinkle, a laugh line. Majima's heart swells with something he still struggles to believe in.

'Hey. None of that.' He chastises softly, no venom in his voice. 'Got plenty of time to get used to it, yeah?' Plenty of time- all the time in the world, now. It's a prospect Majima still finds scary, living past 20. Living for anything beyond a reason to throw it all away. But nothing so scary he can't overcome it- that they cannot overcome it, together. 

Kiryu smiles. There it is again.

'Thank you.'

He turns to kiss Majima’s wrist and he decides in that instance, no- and leans forward to meet his lips instead. Even feeling the upwards curl of Kiryu's lips against his- it makes him giddy. Lightheaded, and not just from the heat. The kiss tastes like grapes- it tastes like Majima. It tastes like Kiryu.

Soft and gentle, it ends quickly. Majima almost whines when Kiryu pulls away, much too used to chasing his kisses, to aggression even in his romance. But he allows it. Allows Kiryu to plant another kiss against his forehead, too. It’s a tenderness that’s foreign to him. It feels like love. Love.

Majima swells with it. Had he ever been in love like this before? He has loved, certainly- a desire for companionship, for normalcy, for something to protect. But not like this, not so fully. In such a quiet moment sat on the porch of their shared house with the sea lapping at their shore and their daughter asleep soft in her bed and their, their, their. Together. Majima had always thought himself stronger alone and only now does he see how wrong he was. They can stand alone and shoulder their burdens but together, they are unbreakable.

Kiryu runs a hand through his own hair, the sweat sticking to his forehead. He exhales heavily, and pulls himself up. Moving slow like the tide. Unhurried- nowhere to be, nothing to fear. He holds a hand out to Majima and he takes it without thinking. It’s instinctive, now.

'Let's go inside.' Kiryu says, and Majima simply nods. No other words needed, really.  Hands still joined, Kiryu still smiling, grape juice still dripping from Majima’s palm. He’s home.

[mutants-and-soldiers]

Lovely Dissonance {Part 9}

summary || After a long hiatus, you’ve decided to throw yourself back into your one passion: Singing. It’s been a rocky road since the accident but you’re ready to get back onto your feet and brush off those singing chops that have been put to the side. You just don’t expect to find something more than just a fulfilling career.

pairing || singer!Bucky x singer!Reader x pianist!Steve

word count || 5300

warnings || Musician AU, polyamory, Nightmares, Trauma, Healing, Body insecurities, depression, PTSD, scars, harassments, body shaming, hurt/comfort, descriptions of violence, Smut

chapter warnings || oral (f receiving/m blindfolded), sickly sweet words of care, smut, Bucky/Steve shower sex, anal sex, m/m, kissing, patience, talk of scars, self hate, Bucky being a sweetheart and pervert all at the same time, praise kink

notes || This is my entry for @gotnofucks Body Positivity Challenge

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Bucky nearly chokes on a laugh. “You’ve done it now. He gets off on giving head.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean...if you’re not ready,” Steve stammers, cheeks hot with blush at his own eagerness. He stops when he realizes you have an...interested look on your face while chewing on that lower lip again. “Oh fuck, can I? Please, baby, let me.”

You look at Bucky who had a knowing look on his smug face. “I just...I mean, I can’t reciprocate, Steve. That’s not fair,” you mumble, glancing between the two men hesitantly.

Bucky’s the one who steps in, as always, with his genius mind and charisma. “Let’s make a compromise,” he offered with a devious glint in his eye. “I’ll go get coffee started and pick up some pastries from the bakery across the street while Steve goes to town on you, blindfolded, of course. When I get back, I’ll fuck Steve in the shower so we all get our rocks off. How does that sound, doll?”

Steve can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth at the thought. He reaches out to pull Bucky in for a kiss, loving the feel of the man’s molten tongue taking over his mouth. The blond can definitely feel you staring and hazards a peek to see your face. You were, very obviously, enjoying the show.

“Okay.”

The single word makes the two men pull away immediately. You looked a little nervous, but not unsure. “Are you sure?” the two men say in unison, which caused a round of laughter.

“Yes, I am,” you said, confident and firm. “Bucky-”

“Don’t even,” Bucky said, kissing your lips gently before getting out of the bed. “I’ll have my time with you, doll. You can’t get away even if you wanted to, besides, Steve is really talented with his mouth. You won’t regret your decision.”

Bucky left the room, closing the door completely behind him.

You looked up at Steve, body humming with arousal and excitement and a little bit of hesitation. “Am I...going too fast?” you whisper when Steve rolls off the bed to go to the closet. His blue eyes look over at you, brow furrowed. “I mean, I want it, Steve, I do! Who says no to oral? Really, but...we just decided this last night.”

Steve’s face relaxed into an expression of understanding and admiration. “In my opinion,” he said, grabbing a red tie from the closet before turning back to you. “Bucky and I are too old to deal with...uncertainties. We both like you, a lot, and you like us. As long as we all consent...I don’t see the harm in diving right in. We’re not scared teens or 20-somethings anymore, you know?”

It helps ease some of the uncertainty. “We have to be honest with each other, though,” you point out as he came to sit down on the edge of the bed next to you. “If it’s not working out...you have to tell me, okay?”

The laugh lines framing his blue eyes crinkle with his smile. “Same for you,” he agrees, leaning down for another kiss. “If this isn't working. There will be no hard feelings.”

You nod, swallowing when he wraps the tie around his eyes. His hand reaches out once the blindfold is secured to find your cheek. He brushes his thumb across your lips, climbing onto the bed to straddle you again. The ache throbs in your core so hard you give an audible groan, which causes his thumb to slip into your mouth.

“Sorry,” he mutters just as you wrap your lips around the digit and give it a good suck. “Oh shit.” The words were said with the most breathless, lustful tone you had ever heard. “Might not need Bucky to get me off at this rate.”

You chuckle, tongue undulating against the pad of his thumb with the action. He pulls his thumb free, dragging his fingers down your neck and clavicle. Your chest is heaving when his fingers brush across the swell of your breast, catching on a hard nipple. It made you whimper, goosebumps popping up all over your skin.

“Can I...go under your shirt?” he asked, lips parting so he could wet them with his tongue. You follow the motion, distracted, swallowing thickly.

“I have...I mean…”

“You can say no, baby. I don’t mind touching you like this,” he soothed, kissing a line down your neck. It makes you shiver when his beard hair brushes across the sensitive skin. Your body jolts when he pinches your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. “You can also touch me under my clothes if you’re comfortable.”

It was almost like the permission broke something inside of you. “I have stretch marks and...I mean, I’m not as fit as you or Bucky,” you admit with a tremble in your voice.

Steve pulls back, jerking the blindfold off of his eyes so he can look at you. “Sweetheart,” he smiles, large hand still kneading your breast distractingly. “You are beautiful and sexy and...so perfect. Even without seeing you naked, I know that I won’t be able to get enough of you. Someday, I hope you’ll give me the chance to kiss every single part of your body that makes you self conscious so that when you look at them...all you think about is my touch.”

“Steve!” you gasp, feeling the heat spreading from your face and making the ache so much worse. “You can’t say things like that!”

He pulled his blindfold back down but it didn’t stop you from seeing the self-satisfied look. “You had better get used to it,” he said, pinching your nipple again. It made you yelp before his mouth was covering the other nipple. You dig your fingers into his hair, gasping when he rolls the hard bud between his teeth. It made your thighs rub together where they were straddled by his knees. “I’m not going to stop complimenting you until you start to believe it.”

You squeeze your eyes closed as his tongue firmly runs up your nipple. “Steve,” you moan, not sure how he could make you so wet without even touching your skin. “Fuck, you’re torturing me on purpose...aren’t you?”

“Hm?” he hums around your nipple, tugging on it with his teeth lightly. Your body arches off the bed, pelvis rubbing against the obvious erection poorly hidden behind his pajama pants. “I figure if I tease you enough...you’ll be too needy to care about your insecurities.”

It’s hard to imagine what it would feel like without the shirt blocking his mouth. You didn’t even know what to say to express what you needed at that moment. It didn’t seem like he cared, truthfully, as he started making his way down your body, leaving kisses and nips through your shirt.

He ran his hands down to your thighs, scooting back a bit. “Do you want to take your pants off or do you mind if I do it?” he asked, hesitating.

You think about it for a second. What if he brushed past the scars on your legs? But that was unlikely if he were just going to pull them straight down. “Y-You can do it,” you finally say, voice trembling with anticipation.

The smile that crossed his face made every ounce of uncertainty dissolve away instantly. He hooked his fingers in the fabric at your hips, pulling them down. You helped by lifting your hips then your legs so he could set them to the side, well within reach. You shivered when his hands easily parted your thighs, settling down onto his stomach, legs surely hanging off the bed.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, kissing the inside of your thigh lightly. “Baby, you smell so good.”

“Steve!” you gasp, feeling both embarrassed and impossibly turned on.

“Can’t wait to taste you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin.

God damn him. He knew what he was doing and was teasing you mercilessly. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?!” you laugh, the sound quickly dissolving into something needier when he licks through the top of your folds. The hot pad of his tongue runs across your clit and fireworks light up behind your eyelids. “Oh god.”

Steve’s moan of delight washes hot breath across your throbbing flesh. “Yeah, I’m definitely enjoying this, baby,” he agrees, voice thick with lust. His hot hands move your thighs wider, fingers spreading your lips obscenely. “I bet your pussy is so pretty.”

“Steve, stop talking!” you whine, digging your fingers into his hair as he runs his tongue up across your exposed clit. “Oh fuck.”

The blond started making abstract patterns against your sensitive bud, making words and thoughts nearly impossible. It had been...ages. “Can I finger you?” he asked, pulling away and replacing his mouth with his fingers on your clit.

What was it about him asking permission that made you whine? People always said consent was sexy but having this big, strong man ask you for permission just made everything so much better. “God yes!” you moan, gripping his hair to push him back down so his mouth was too busy to say anything.

And did he make himself busy.

The first orgasm washed over you as soon as his finger found your g-spot. Your body shook with the power of it, your fingers trembling where they were in his hair. He didn’t relent, swirling his tongue around and sucking on your clit; he worked a second finger into your pussy, stretching it pleasantly.

You quickly lose track of how many times you orgasm to the point where it almost blurs into one giant, everlasting orgasm. “Steve, god, stop...I can’t!” you whimper, trying to pull his head away from your overwhelmed pussy.

“One more, baby, I know you’ve got one more,” he moans, his hot breath caressing your swollen clit.

“S-Steve…” you moan desperately. He didn’t stop, fingers torturing that spot inside you and his mouth and tongue lathing your clit. It wasn’t long before another orgasm built up until it shattered. “Oh fuck.”

“There’s my girl,” he soothes, leaning up to kiss your cheek. “You did so good for me.”

His praise didn’t help your situation but it did make you grab onto him, hugging him tightly. He went to his side, cuddled up against you. Your body was simultaneously alive and exhausted. “That was...fantastic,” you mutter, hardly noticing when the blanket was pulled up over your body.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he teased, kissing the side of your head. “Do you want to get some more sleep?”

You hummed in agreement, turning over to cuddle deeper into the blankets.

Bucky was antsy while he waited for the pastries to be boxed up, glancing back at the apartment complex longingly. Sure, he had told you that he was happy to let Steve work his magic but, fuck, he wished he could at least hear your noises. He thought about standing outside the door like a creeper but decided against it. He had made a promise to you and he wasn’t backing down on it. You needed to trust them. That was the most important thing right now.

Once he was handed his box of goodies, Bucky headed back towards the apartment. He had to remind himself to take his time and not bound up the stairs three at a time. Instead, he took the elevator like a good little soldier. It didn’t stop him from bothering the people riding up with him by bouncing his foot impatiently.

He checked his phone before typing in the code, he had been gone for barely twenty minutes. That probably wouldn’t be long enough for Steve to be satisfied. His assumption was correct when he stepped into the apartment just in time to hear your voice crying out Steve’s name in ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, setting the box down on the island. Just one cry had the brunette harder than he’d been in a while. He didn’t need to try hard to imagine what they looked like, Steve on his belly trapped between your thick thighs, blindfold on, mouth and fingers working you over. He could see the red hue going from the fair skin of his nose all the way down to his neck.

What he couldn’t imagine was what you looked like when you begged for more, tugging at Steve’s blond hair desperately. He palmed the tent in his pants when he very clearly heard you say, “Steve, god, stop...I can’t!”

Bucky couldn’t hear Steve’s response but he knew by your continued, frenzied sounds that the blond hadn’t stopped. Your pleas and moans became frantic and desperate until the brunette very clearly knew you had cum against Steve’s mouth. His dick twitched against the thin fabric of his pajama pants as everything went silent.

His control shattered when he heard the shower turn on. Knowing his signal when he heard it, he carefully opened the bedroom door. You were cuddled under the plush blankets, sleeping peacefully. Bucky fought the urge to go to join you, instead, going to the bathroom.

“Buck-” Steve’s words were cut off immediately after the door closed. Bucky shoved him against the wall right next to the steamy shower, devouring his words. He moaned when he realized the unfamiliar taste on his boyfriend’s lips was you. Clothing was tossed in random directions as they kissed and palmed at each other; Steve’s firm grip stroked his aching erection from tip to base.

Steve pulled Bucky into the shower, closing the door behind them. The water was hot but that hardly stopped Bucky from turning the blond around. From years of being together, Steve easily put his hands on the handle of the shower, bending over. Bucky grabbed the special bottle they kept at the top of their shower caddy for just such moments.

“Buck, please,” the pianist moaned softly, his heavy erection twitching.

“Working on it, babe,” he smirked, pouring a generous amount of the special aloe vera body wash into his hand. He ran his fingers down that beautiful ass, pressing against the man’s entrance. Steve’s noise was muffled by his forearm as the two fingers pushed past his ring of muscles. Years of practice allowed him to easily find the man’s prostate, causing the veteran to tense up, muscles bunching beautifully under that expanse of fair, Irish skin. Bucky never got tired of how responsive Steve’s body was when being fingered or fucked.

Leaning forward, Bucky wrapped his other arm around the blond’s body to wrap his metal hand around the throbbing erection gently. “Did you enjoy yourself between her thighs?” Bucky whispered into the man’s ear, nipping at the back of his shoulder playfully. Steve’s whine was more than enough of an answer. “Wish I could have watched you take her apart. I could hear her begging. She’s got such a sweet voice, doesn’t she?”

Steve pushed back against the brunette’s fingers desperately. “B-Bucky, please, I need you,” he whimpered, thighs starting to shake from the assault of pleasure.

Bucky loved the way the pianist got when he was so close to orgasm. “Mm, me too,” he growls, pulling his fingers and hand away. Steve, despite knowing what was coming, gave a disappointed sound at the loss of all pleasure. “Patience, Stevie, you’ll be stuffed full soon.”

Even with the hot water pouring over them, Steve shivered. Bucky made sure his dick was nice and lubed up before pressing a hand against the blond’s back to hold him in place. He teased the man’s entrance with his head, smirking at the futile squirming. He usually enjoyed teasing the hell out of Steve but he knew neither of them were in the mood for that so he pushed until his head breached the man’s tight ring of muscles.

Any other person might wince or whimper at the pain but not Steve. Even when they had first started fucking, Steve had loved being stretched and stuffed. A delicate tremor started in the blond’s body, pushing back against Bucky’s forward motion to get him inside faster. “Fuck, Bucky,” Steve moaned, the sound long and drawn out. “Please, I’m...I’m already so close.”

“Fuckin’ hell, me too,” Bucky hated to admit, making shallow thrusts until he found the angle that made Steve’s knees buckle. Bucky wrapped his arms around the man, holding him close and burying his face into the man’s neck from behind. His scent was still mixed with yours, the water not having enough time to wash it away.

Bucky rutted against his boyfriend, completely abusing the man’s prostate until those planes of muscles tightened. The noise Steve made, mixed with the tightening around his erection was all it took for Bucky to shiver with his orgasm. He pulled out quickly, stroking a few times just to finish himself off.

They both stood there for a few moments, catching their breath before Steve turned around to face him. “Shit, that was…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence. “Buck.”

The brunette laughed, leaning forward to kiss the needy man. “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he teased, pressing their foreheads together. “You had the same reaction to Peggy if memory serves me.”

Steve clung to him, burying his face in the brunette’s neck. “You’re not...upset are you?” he asked, refusing to look up from where he had his face hidden.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the blond. Communication was so important in polyamorous relationships and Steve was the most open person he had ever met. He had taught Bucky to be more open too. “No, baby, not at all,” he soothes, grabbing the soap to start washing the large man’s back. Only Steve could be over six feet tall and still act like he was a tiny little punk. “I’m happy the two of you took this step in your relationship. Besides, you have to go do a sectional, which will give me plenty of time to spend with her.”

Steve’s whole body relaxed when the washcloth ran down his strong back. “That’s true,” he hummed, nuzzling into Bucky’s neck.

The brunette had to admit that he loved when Steve was happy like this, soft and cuddly. He hadn’t really been this sweet since Peggy left, which was understandable. The two of them were definitely partners in crime and though Bucky had been sad to see her go...it had devastated Steve to lose not just a lover but a best friend.

You mumble slightly when something cold brushes across your neck, pulling your hair away from your neck. “Hey, doll,” the sultry voice rumbled as lips and the hint of beard tickled the sensitive skin. “I’ve got coffee and pastries when you decide to get out of bed.”

Bucky’s body fits perfectly against the curve of your back, so you cuddle back. “Not yet, five more minutes,” you whisper, enjoying the way he wrapped around you.

The man hums softly in the back of your shoulder. “You get head for the first time in who knows how long and now you’re useless?” he teased softly, kissing at the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder. You giggle a little squirming when he tickles you, sending goosebumps across that side of your body.

“Bucky, that tickles,” you mumble, unable to hold back the laughter now that he was doubling down and burrowing further into your neck. “Stop, you’re-”

“You know, I get it,” he laughed, his grip like iron around your waist to keep you from squirming away. “Steve is great with his fingers but that mouth…mm, heaven.”

You can’t help but laugh when you somehow end up with the blanket all tangled around your lower half, laid out on top of him. He was looking up at you with that mischievous grin on his handsome face, hands easily resting on the small of your back that was covered by the blankets. “Mornin’ gorgeous,” he says slowly, leaning up to kiss your lips softly.

“Mornin’,” you smile, suddenly realizing that you were completely naked from the waist down under the blankets. “Shit, I need to get-”

“Dressed?” Bucky asked skeptically. “I guess, if you must!” It was said with a teasing little grin to let you know that he was fine with it. “I’ll go get your coffee and pastry ready.”

Scooting out from under you, the man stood up from the bed in just a tight pair of sweatpants and made a show of stretching out those beautiful back muscles. He only peeked over his shoulder a little to make sure you were properly staring. “Like what you see, doll?” he asked, voice full of self-appreciation of himself.

“Yes, yes I do,” you said without an ounce of shame. “I’m thinking about making a house rule where the two of you aren’t allowed to wear shirts unless there’s company.”

He got that devious look in his eyes. “Deal, if it’s completely equal and you’re not allowed to wear a shirt either,” he chuckled, glancing down at your body before disappearing through the door.

You definitely feel like he got the upper hand in that interaction but focused on getting your pajama bottoms on before heading out to the kitchen. He was humming while he waited in front of the stove for the pastries to warm up. Your eyes glanced down the seam where his shoulder met his prosthetic, mapping out the web of scars that branched up to man’s neck.

Without thinking, you rub the scar through your pant leg just to feel the raised skin. You only felt pain and disgust when you looked at your scars but when you looked at Bucky’s scars…they only made him more handsome. Would he…think the same about you when…if he saw your scars? The thought both scared and excited you, mixing into a near nauseating feeling deep in the pit of your stomach.

You were so lost in thought that you were staring into nothing when the man turned to find you standing there. He whispered your name, snapping you out of the downward spiral you had been so close to falling into. “You okay?” he asked, walking around the island to place one hand on each of your upper arms. “You looked lost for a second.”

The weird juxtaposition of one cold hand and one warm hand, oddly enough, helped you to pull away from that taunting abyss. “Can I ask you a weird question?” you finally manage to say, placing one hand on his cold metal forearm and one on his real forearm. You could feel his pulse under the fingers of your left hand and the mechanical vibrations under the opposite.

He gently squeezed your upper arms, making you look up at him tentatively. “You can ask me anything, weird or otherwise, doll,” he said so quietly it was almost like he was afraid to scare you off.

“Is it weird…” you began, running your fingers up his biceps until you lightly touched where metal met skin on his left shoulder. “That I think your scars make you…way more sexy but…I just can’t find it in myself to think the same about…my own?”

The intensity of his eyes catches you off guard when you pull your gaze from his shoulder to his face. It makes an odd trembling start in your belly. “I don’t think my scars are sexy,” he finally said after taking a slow deep breath in through his mouth. “I’m…still disgusted every time I see them in the reflection of a window or mirror. The only time I even dare to wear something that shows…” he vaguely nodded towards his shoulder where your fingers were still exploring the map of scars. “Is when I’m home with Steve…or you.”

You felt the weight of his words lift something off your shoulders. If such a beautiful, fit, talented man could be just as unsettled by his own scars…maybe it wasn’t so bad if you hadn’t accepted your own? “Thank you, Bucky,” you smile, fingers trembling a little. “It makes me…happy that you feel comfortable enough around me to be yourself. I…I hope…I know, eventually, I’ll get to that point.”

His warm fingers gently nudged the underside of your chin so that you had to look up at him. “In your own time,” he said like a secret, leaning down to brush his lips across yours.

The kiss and his words lingered long after the two of you had sat down with your coffee and pastries in front of the TV. He kept you on his left side, which you thought odd until it became clear that it was because he wanted every possible excuse to touch you with his right hand. Those fingers brushed across your hand when the two of you reached out for your coffee mugs at the same time; they pushed a piece of hair away from your face; and it didn’t take long before he had that warm hand on your thigh, kissing the sense right out of your brain.

You could taste the buttery flavor of the croissant on his tongue as he devoured your noises, easily guiding you back until you were laid out across the couch with him straddling you. He had one foot off the couch, metal arm holding him up on the arm behind your head so he could continue kissing you. His pulled away from the kiss to stare down at your face, blue eyes intense with desire.

“Can I…” he started to ask, lightly brushing his fingers along the waistband of your pajamas. “I won’t look just…feel.”

Your horny brain, still slightly turned on from Steve’s earlier attention, had you almost answering immediately. Then, your rational brain thought about his fingers brushing across the folded skin over the scar on your stomach and you shoved his hand away. “No,” you whisper, feeling like you might run.

“Hey, hey, easy,” he whispered sweetly, not at all offended. “What are you worried about? Talk to me.”

It took a moment for you to clear the anxious fog of your mind before you finally shook it away. “I don’t want you to feel…my stomach,” you admit, hating the prickle of tears at the corners of your eyes. “It’s stupid-”

“No,” he interrupted you, voice still gentle. “It’s not stupid. Your feelings mean…everything to me. I want to make you feel good, doll. I can’t do that if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your hands trembled, sliding away from the scars past his prosthetic. “Thank you, Bucky,” you whisper, a little shocked when he takes the metal off with a few punches of his fingers. “Bucky, wait-”

He takes your hand and gently leads it to his shoulder. “Do you find my scar disgusting to touch?” he whispered, letting your fingers wander across the textured skin.

“No, of course not,” you answer immediately, smiling shyly when his lips kiss the knuckles of your other hand.

“Then why do you think that touching your scar will disgust me?”

The question struck so hard in your chest that it hurt to breathe for a few seconds. You didn’t realize there were even tears in your eyes until they slipped down your face. “Because I’m not…fit or as beautiful as you or-” you sobbed, tears distorting the world. “I think about the three of us lying in bed together naked and…I just find the thought terrifying because I’m so hideous.”

Bucky’s strong fingers grab your chin and tilt your face up so he could wipe away the tears. “Stop it,” he basically commanded, making your mouth snap close. “Steve and I may have won the genetic lottery for good looks, doll, but you won the lottery on personality and talent and strength. You are beautiful in so many ways beyond physical. I could give a shit about any scars or stretch marks or bumps or pimples. I just want to be able to touch your skin and show you just how much I want you.”

It was hard to stop crying once you started but it didn’t stop you from leaning forward to kiss the scars on his shoulder. You could feel the way his muscles tightened at the attention but you gently ran a hand down the side of his neck. “Do you want me to stop?” you whisper, running kisses up a particularly long mark that went all the way to his clavicle.

“N-No, don’t stop,” he sighed in pleasure. His skin was hot under your lips and tongue, his hand gently running up your back taking the shirt with it. “May I?”

All anxiety about him feeling your body left as you traced his marks with your lips, gently nipping at a few as you went. “Yes,” you breathed, shivering when his warm palm ran across the skin of your back. It had been…so long since the last time someone had touched your skin. “Bucky.”

His name came from your lips like a prayer, breathless and shaky. “You feel so good,” he whispered against your neck, fingers trailing up your spine. It sent a shiver of desire through you when he started laying open mouthed kisses across your neck. “Do you want me to continue where I left off?”

You did. There was no doubt in your mind that you did because the fabric of your panties were soaked from a mixture of Steve’s attention and now Bucky’s. “Y-Yes,” you finally say without dread or conflict.

He leaned over to grab his prosthetic again before sitting on the couch and pulling you bodily where your back was against his front. He leaned against the arm of the chair, laying gentle kisses down the side of your neck that sent goosebumps across your body. “I don’t even need to see you,” he breathed against your ear, nipping at the lobe. “To know I want to touch every inch.”

You whined, his hand palming at your breast before moving down to the end of your shirt. “B-Bucky,” you moaned, bucking your hips to try and get him to move faster. The cold metal of his left hand ran up the front of your neck, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. Even feeling the mechanical hum of the prosthetic, you weren’t afraid. “Please.”

“So needy all of a sudden,” he teased, easily bunching the fabric of your shirt in his hand. His fingers brushed against the scar of your C-section and you jumped out of habit. “I’ve got you, doll. You’re doing so good for me.”

His praise went straight to your aching core. It completely made you forget anything about the way his fingers skimmed across the scar, feeling the length of it. The only thing you could feel was the anticipation of him getting down under your pants. Somehow, he had turned the thing you were most worried and insecure about into something to tease you with.

He kept his metal hand on the front of your neck, loose and very easily escapable, but possessive. Your mouth was night next to his ear so he could hear all of your noises. His metal fingers, warm from your skin, gently stroked the length of your neck. “You want it?” he asked, lips brushing across the side of your head. His fingers slipped down to just peek under the waistband of your shorts. You made a needy sound in the back of your throat with a quiet desperate word, trying to push his hand closer. “Good girl.”

Your growl of disappointment quickly turned into a gasp when those fingers brushed across your clit. It was still quite sensitive from Steve’s amazing mouth so it sent an intense ripple of pleasure through your system. “Too much,” you groan, not sounding at all like you wanted it to stop.

“Look how sensitive you are,” he said with a self-satisfied tone. “Steve worked you real good, didn’t he, doll?”

His fingers didn’t stop, gently rubbing circles and abstract patterns against your clit. “Y-Yeah,” you managed to whine out, jumping a little when the door opened.

Taglist: @ladydmalfoy @spookyparadisesheep @chcblndnrd75 @buckypcrker @whatthefrickenfrack @fangirling-galore

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[zemodaddy]

Hey so i finally completed the first chapter of the zemo x reader fanfic. Make sure to read the authors note at the end and i hope you enjoy.!

Synopsis:

Y/n is an ex-avenger who, after the blip was forced to work for the US government. You trained to be an assassin/spy and your gifts of wielding flames made you invaluable. When you were assigned to follow Bucky you find him helping Helmut Zemo escape from his prison cell. What is he up to? Should you stop him?

Warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, fluff and in later chapters extreme acts of hatred towards John Walker :)

Shades of Him

They replaced him. They replaced him with a random guy and stuck Steve’s shield on him. You were staring at the TV in disbelief. You thought of Steve like a brother and he definitely wouldn’t have wanted this.

After the blip you had no job, the avengers pretty much all separated and that left you without anything to do, and that meant no income and no income meant no home or food. You couldn’t exactly find a normal job because most people were afraid of you. A trained assassin and spy who could wield flames wasn’t really considered normal. That left you with no choice but to accept the deal the US government offered you. Do their dirty work and you wont end up homeless.

Your newest mission was to track Bucky to make sure he followed the rules set upon him for his pardon. You are close to him, like you were close to Steve. Hiding the fact that you were following him everywhere he went was kind of hard but you managed. You had to manage.

So finding him and Sam visiting a German prison kind of surprised you. Had this got to do with his therapy? Surely not. They left around an hour later and from then nothing more suspicious happened. A quick google search and a deep dive into some public records showed that a high security prisoner resided at this prison. Not just anyone. Zemo.

Interesting you thought. Later that night you followed Bucky and Sam to an old garage. You waited outside for 5 minutes before entering, trying to keep to the shadows of the room. The two men seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. “You want Zemo to help us?” Sam looks exasperated. Bucky looks a bit apprehensive as he says “Look let me walk you through a hypothetical, can I do that?” He begins to explain an elaborate escape plan for Zemo. Your mind was wizzing with thoughts as you tried to figure out your next move. He really isn’t in the right headspace, same old Bucky, you roll your eyes. “What are you guys doing?” You step out of the darkness. The two seemed to jump out of their skin, clearly not expecting you to be there.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Bucky asks. They both looked so shocked by your sudden appearance that you had to suppress a laugh. “I was following you.” He doesn’t look happy. “YOU WERE FOLLOWING ME?” He raises his voice. You weren’t scared because you knew he loved you really. Keeping the same tone as him you shout back “YES AND YOU’RE HELPING A CRIMINAL” “I SAID HYPOTHETICALLY DIDN’T I”. Sam looks like he could start laughing any moment. You weren’t even sure if you should laugh or arrest them. Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Then please explain to me why I just got a message saying that ZEMO HAS ESCAPED FROM PRISON?” Sam looks mad now. “You’re kidding me Bucky” he says. “Look we don’t have any other leads, we were at a dead end.”

You knew that the two were looking for information on the new super soldiers serum. “He blew up the UN, he killed king T’Chaka!” Before Bucky could reply to Sams argument, the sound of a door shutting sounds through the garage and guess who walks in. Helmut fucking Zemo. Your hand flies immediately to the dagger on the side of your thigh. “Woah woah woah” Sam starts walking towards him as Bucky tries to hold him back. Too bad he didn’t see you slip past them and push Zemo against the wall with said dagger against his throat. “Your going back to prison” you pass him a sickly sweet smile. He looked surprised by you holding him against that wall but didn’t fight back. Not with the blade in your hand starting to heat up against his skin. “y/n let him go” Bucky looks frustrated.

“He can lead us closer to the serum, just let him breath for a second” Zemo did start to look a little breathless. Good, he should be scared of you. Reluctantly you let him go. He starts to talk “if I may”. At the same time the three of you go “NO”. He looked a little displeased by the response but didn’t have any other option but to oblige. “Apologies”. After further debating and a lot of disagreements you and Sam finally agree to trust Zemo.. for the time being anyways. “Alright Zemo, where do we start”

You mentally set a reminder to always have an eye on Zemo, how could you not with a guy like him. He seemed to be sending you anxious glances in return, which to be fair you did nearly choke him to death. He leads you to a large warehouse containing numerous cars of different ages, sizes and colours. Probably stolen you think. After grabbing a case full with clothes for zemo you all head to an airstrip. In the middle of which was a private jet. You look at it in awe. “So you were rich all this time?” Sam asks. “I’m a baron Sam, my family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country”. Shit. Those cars weren’t stolen then..

The mention of his country makes you think back to that battle against ultron. You were very tempted to leave the avengers after nearly wiping out the entirety of a population of a country. But they convinced you to stay, where else could you have gone anyway? You think a little longer about the aftermath, when you helped after the battle with the injured, and loved ones finding their dead. It was one of the saddest moment of your life, until the blip. No one else helped from the avengers, they didn’t even visit the memorial..

“Y/n you coming?” Sam was saying from the top of the stairs. Lost in thought you were stood in front of the plane. Maybe I should stop getting distracted you thought. Entering the jet the seats on the right were already occupied by Sam and Bucky, leaving the only other seat opposite Zemo free. Great. As a gentle reminder you check your dagger on your thigh, almost like a warning that if he tries anything he’ll know what’s coming. Zemo swallows looking where it would be and ask his butler person for a drink. Was that his butler or the pilot? Rich people problems you thought. The plane sets off and you look out of the window daydreaming a little.

The other three talk lightly until the mention of Buckys list, which ends in zemo being choked yet again. You smile a little, enjoying the mini acts of revenge for the people he’s hurt and killed. You feel a bit sleepy but then they start to discuss where you were going. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the red skull” Zemo shakes his head lightly “that’s why we’re going to Madripoor”. Confused, Bucky explains the place’s history in the Indonesian archipelago. “It’s kept its lawless ways but we cannot go in as our selves” Zemo says. Uh oh that can’t be good.

You were right. Zemo had handed you a bag full of clothes and a pair of heels. You stared at yourself in the full length mirror that resided in the toilets. “You have got to be kidding me” you say aloud. Your were wearing a dark purple silky dress that reached only just halfway down your thigh. It exposed most of your arms, shoulders and a lot of your chest. Thankfully there was a black leather jacket in the bag too, however on the shoulders sat a blanket of fur, similarly to Zemos coat that he took from the warehouse. Your heels were also purple. You thank the lord you took the time to train in heels too because you never know when the situation arises when you happen to find yourself in those monstrous shoes.

“This” you point at yourself “is not happening”. “Ah my baroness has arrived” Zemo says, amusement glinting in his eyes. You glared at the word ‘baroness’. “Here put this on darling, to finish it off”. He holds what seems to be a lipstick in his hand. You already knew what shade it was before taking it from him. “Do you have some thing for purple or is that just me?” Sam and Bucky both laughed.

You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad, in fact it looked expensive. To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, not necessarily for what you were wearing, but for the hand now draped around your waist. Zemos hand. He said that no matter what, you couldn’t break character. Bucky was playing the role as the winter soldier; you felt bad for him, the memories this must bring up. You can’t even begin to imagine. Sam however, wore an extravagant and abstract red suit that kind of looked like a dress. It was funny to see his reaction to which he comments that he looked like a “pimp”.

A car pulls up beside you and you all pile in. Of course you were sat next to zemo in the back. After around five minutes you arrive in lowtown. A place where you could apparently find a gall called Selby. That hand snaked back around you as you intermingle with the crowded streets. The high density of the crowd forced you even closer to Zemos side leaving practically no space between you now. You could feel his warm body against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down on you. His eyes seem to be softer now than they were before and he gives you a quick kiss on the temple as if to reassure you that you’re safe. You tried to keep yourself from shaking him off of you but as you carried on walking, you got used to him a bit more. Sam and Bucky followed the two of you, both with grim faces.

Finally, you come to a bar, most people around you watching carefully as you all enter. Zemo orders the both of you a shot and Sam gets his usual. This turned out to be something containing whatever the barman cutout of a snake. The sight of it made your stomach drop, and to your astonishment, Sam actually drank it. He looked like he wanted to be sick but, no matter what he had to stay in character. Bucky gave a slight nod, he didn’t get a drink, not as the winter soldier.

You had let it be known of who you wanted to see and as you waited a man came up behind Zemo and you. He immediately guided you away from this man so he was in front of you and Zemo in front of the man. He knew you could hold your own, you had made that clear already, but he wanted to protect you. For the act of course. “You ain’t welcome here” the man stated, placing a hand roughly on zemos shoulder as he turned to face him. “I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either talk to me” Zemo points at Bucky. His hand then slipped to yours, holding it tightly. “Or bring Selby for a chat”. The man looks displeased and walks away. You had many things you wanted to say to Zemo at this moment, but sticking to your character was more important. As he continued to grip your hand, other men started to menacingly prowl towards you all. Zemo gave Bucky the order to attack and so he did. A fight quickly broke out between them all but Bucky was far too strong for them all. This ended in Bucky holding one of the guys that remained standing against the bar table. Finally someone called to say selby was ready to see your group. This was going to be interesting.

Notes

Okay i left this on a little bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter should be out in a day or so. This is my first fanfic i have published so I’m interested to see what everyone thinks. If there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes then umm you didn’t see anything. I hope you enjoyed!

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904

[aenaxes-moved]

soirée

[cody x gn!reader] sometimes, commander cody, diplomatic duties can be set aside. otherwise known as living, if only for a brief moment, with the golden boy.

warnings: none

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: i just think dancing with cody on a lakefront at sunset would be infinitely nice. and y/n is gender neutral! they could be read as more feminine coded because of their gown and heels but there are no explicit pronouns/gendered references.

"Have you ever danced for a gala, Cody?"

"I can't say I have, senator," Cody responds as the Theelin representatives pass by. Some tenuous balance of concern and mild amusement playing over the arch in his brow, he watches you lift the long hem of your gown to rub at your ankles.

"I would recommend you avoid it if possible," you say, grimacing when your fingers brush over a sure blister come dawn. "Nasty business, dancing."

Were he but a newly made acquaintance, as he had been when he had known you by name and Fox's fond regard alone, he would most certainly be on his highest guard. But after Obi-wan had very inconspicuously assigned him to your escort detail, placing you through a grand total of one assassination attempt and two stolen frigates, he allows himself a sort of relaxed regard that only comes by a bond forged in the belly of a ship under heavy fire.

Camaraderie, he had called it breathlessly as you wiped engine grease from your robes, collapsing against him after you had finally toggled the hyperdrive online.

Friendship, you had countered with the firm clack of your wrench on the helm. You recall with brilliant clarity that his hand had been warm when you had gripped it tight, illuminated the ghostly blue of the streaks of light flooding the viewport.

Comrades were bound to duty; friends, something much more. So he allows himself to stand back at pause to admire how the setting sun gleams over your skin, how your nose scrunches just slightly as you fuss at the sheer inconvenience of your heels, as if you are not as radiant in his eyes as the fading light sparkling and rippling over the water.

"Truly, an unfortunate part of the democratic process, y/n," Cody chuckles.

Without the presence of other senators to demand the formalities of titles and decorum, you watch his shoulders slacken from sharp attention as he calls you by your name. The cool neutrality of his gaze as a soldier softens into a warm amusement meant for a dear friend, and you are happy to bask in its glow despite the groaning ache in your feet.

"If I knew there would be this much dancing in politics, I would have listened to my mother and taken her speeder shop," you groan.

"And deprive the Senate of your voice?" Cody asks, and his smile, as discreet and small as it may be, is irresistible.

"You have to actually convince me, Cody."

"Fair enough. Then, deprive the 212nd of your acquaintance?"

You hum, your fingers suddenly still over your heels as he watches you genuinely contemplate his words.

"Just a bit closer," you prod, a playful gleam in your eye.

"I thought you said you didn't like 'fawning sycophancy,'" Cody snorts. "You and your politician language."

"I don't like groveling politicians. I won't turn down flattery if it is from you, my dear commander," you respond, unable to hide the bright smile high on your lips.

"Then, say you'd taken the speeder shop. Would you deprive me of your acquaintance?" Cody relents with a huff. It's nothing but a puff of breath exhaled soft, but it's a welcome sound close to the rich warmth of his laughter, the sound of the poorly concealed joy glimmering in his deep brown eyes.

"If you help me to a quiet place where I can simply sit for the rest of the evening, I might just tell you if that was enough," you tease, offering your hand to him with a haughty flourish as if you were the queen of Naboo herself and not a common voice of the people of Coruscant. Cody rolls his eyes, breaking into a brief grin that flashes over his expression as brilliant as the sun.

You're already in a bit of a secluded spot a few paces away from the swelling quartet music and bureaucratic chatter, giving you the space to break your level-headed courtesies and poke fun. But more than anything, you simply want time alone with the commander in all the impeccable neatness of his uniform dress. Besides, while you think you make quite a pair—the clean press of his formal whites and the shimmer silk of your ivory gown shimmering in the sunset—the old senatorial farts have little regard for the handsome soldier in your company (and it's, really, their loss).

"Are you suggesting I help you escape from your very important diplomatic duties?" Cody asks, a low gasp light on his lips. How many times have you played this game, knowing damn well that the both of you would much rather die in a firefight than sit through a foggy senator raising toasts? It's become close to second nature, now.

"I absolutely am, commander," you nod firmly. "As I always say, sometimes, commander Cody, diplomatic duties may be set aside. This is one of those dreadful times."

He rolls his eyes again, but this time, he takes your outstretched hand, complete with a low bow as he plays along with your theatrics. You rise, only to wobble on your heels, but Cody is there to gently grasp your arms, ever steady. The consternation that flashes over his eyes for a brief moment is deep, more than simple concern, and while you cannot exactly label what his expression betrays, it sets your heart fluttering in your throat all the same.

What Separatist arguments and militaristic rebukes could not rile in your unflappable calm on the Senate floor, Cody effortlessly awakes. It's his power, you think as you regain your footing. The man spun from gold.

"There's a place over the water by the back of the villa," you say, falling into step beside him as the din of the party recedes behind you. "I think we should find some peace and quiet there."

"So you already had an escape route planned out?" Cody laughs. "I guess you never needed a security detail in the first place."

"Well, 'needed' isn't exactly accurate. Maybe 'strongly preferred?'" you offer, and Cody laughs a bit brighter. It's funny, how you barely feel the ache in your feet as contentment blooms triumphant in your chest.

By the time you sneak past the serving droids, stifling soft laughter when you hide from a few stray representatives, the sun is a slim arc curved over the silvery waters of the lake. In the moments of approaching dusk, you stand far from the treaty talks and ulterior motives before an old gazebo, its curved arches heavy with flowering vines like verdant curtains awaiting your arrival.

You look to Cody with bright eyes and squeeze his hand.

"We only have a few minutes of light left," you say in a hushed, excited whisper as the the purpling darkness of night begins to chase the sunset light. With little but the soft lakefront winds breezing through the blooming pavilion arches, there is no need to whisper. But your time with the commander is a precious, fragile thing, so easily burst by the sudden arrival of your colleagues or his men. A whisper is only a savoring tribute to this rare moment. "Dance with me."

"I thought you said dancing was 'nasty business,'" Cody chuckles.

"With you, a dance is a pleasure," you say, the whispers of laughter on the tip of your tongue.

"All due respect, but this is the first time we've shared a dance y/n," Cody teases as you tug him to duck under the creeping trellis vines and onto the sun-kissed stone of the little pavilion. "What makes you so certain you'll enjoy this one?"

"Dancing at these," you wave your hand with a sigh, "little parties are nasty, only if by virtue of the other senators with whom I am obligated to dance. They see me as a rival or a signatory to be won over or fought, and dance is little but a means to an end. But with you..."

The words fall back on your tongue as Cody emerges from under the low-hanging leaves, immediately awash in the glimmering gold light of the sun. He is a kind of breathtaking awe in the cresting cold of dawn, chin held high and proud. But in the resplendence of the waning sun, as he tugs his gloves from his hands, he is the warm and steadfast comfort of home.

In his relaxed posture and soft, dark eyes lies the kind of beauty that you ascribe to an ancient sun rising from behind a waking planet. A star brimming with ageless wisdom and forgiving light, as the sunlight dances over the commander's even, tawny skin, he is nothing short of life breathed into pure gold.

"With you, even a dance can be something I hold dear," you finish as he catches your wide-eyed wonder with a wry smile.

"Very well, senator," he says, a smooth, diplomatic cadence that's sickly enough for you to laugh. He extends a hand to you with a flourish, and you relish in the pure joy. "May I have this honor?"

"With pleasure," you grin.

Although he claimed to never have danced, Cody fluidly assumes a regal sort of poise, moving your hand to his shoulder and settling his free hand light on the small of your back. You have seen him heft his brothers over his shoulder; you have seen him cast aside his blaster for raw strength; you have seen the firm hand he carries wherever he goes. And yet, he is gentler than ever as you step close and meet his eyes to share a smile.

With a soft inhale, you begin a simple waltz over the warm stone.

For the first few steps, there is form. You quietly nudge him to take your lead, step by step, and he is a diligent student as he follows. But where political waltzes have always kept rigid time, space between your chests and guarded caution to the orchestral suites, you quickly fall into something sweet, unhurried and soft as your steps become slow sways in the fading light.

Wordless, brimming with joy, you are free. Cody lifts your hand above your head, laughing with you as you tiptoe through a spin that gently flares your dress, and a few dizzying turns and careful dips later, you can't help but wonder if Cody's heart is racing as fast as your own.

Too enraptured by his steadfast composure (even with the warmth in his eyes), you do little to mask your surprise when Cody shifts his hand higher up your back and tugs you close, pressing you flush to his chest under the emerging starscape above.

Shock, then saccharine goodness, sweet on your tongue, floods you as you slip your hand from his. After a beat of hesitation, testing, careful, you slowly reach up and rest your arms over Cody's shoulders, waiting for the bashful regret to overtake you when he might gently let you down. (It's unbecoming of you, you think shamefully, no matter how closely you may regard him as a friend.)

But the rejection never comes.

Instead, as the sun slips below the lake horizon, Cody simply fixes you with a soft smile and clasps his hands behind your waist, pulling and keeping you close while he continues to sway with the lake breeze. He does not need to speak for you to know his presence bared to you, not as a soldier or as your guard, but as a humble man to bear witness to the starlight in your eyes.

Heart beating wildly in your throat, you press a bit farther, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. You have all but stopped your lazy waltz, simply swaying in place with the cool night winds fast approaching. In the stillness, you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your ear, a steady, reassuring rhythm that quells the giddy excitement from your chest. Yet you still start when he lifts one hand from your waist to the nape of your neck, raising delightful shivers as he strokes his thumb over your skin.

"Cody," you murmur.

You are certain it is no mistake that when Cody turns towards your voice that he presses close, his lips ghosting over your brow. You are no stranger to his closeness in harrowing blaster battles and narrow escapes from certain death. But this is new, the tenuous gossamer of intimacy not yet shared, as you reach for him and he reaches back.

"Yes, cyar'ika?"

(Cyar'ika? You do not recognize the sound, but it floods heat over your cheeks all the same.)

"My answer. About whether it was enough to choose the Senate over the speeder shop," you begin, reveling in how close Cody stands, cradling you so close that you feel his soft breaths over your skin. "Sometimes I wonder if I would have been happier outside of the politics."

"I hear a 'but,'" Cody muses. But instead of any teasing bite to his words, there is only patience, fond and warm.

"But if I had stayed in the lower levels; if I had never come to the Senate, I would have never left the surface. I would have never come to call a jedi general a friend, nor would I have known your men. I would have never met you. And to meet someone like you..."

You pause, sighing deep as your heart begins to pound anew.

"It is beyond enough."

Upon your last word, you hold your breath close.

You had only intended this to be a part of your teasing game of lighthearted chase with the commander. What was meant to be a quick and breezy escape from the politics of gowns and frivolities (even if you could not deny your affections for the commander) has brought you here, wondering if your words might be a push too far. Truths they may be, but they open you to uncharted waters. And you tremble in the falling night at the vague possibilities and consequence.

"Cyar'ika." Cody's voice, still as the lake stretched behind you, rumbles above your ear. "Do you know what that means, y/n?"

You shake your head slowly against him, only to meet him with eyes wide in surprise when he gently takes your jaw in his hand and tugs you upright.

"It means," he says quietly, sliding his palm from your chin to your cheek. "Sweetheart."

You're too stunned to do anything but blink when you feel his lips on your forehead.

"Darling."

Another touch, this time, pressed to your cheek as your eyes slide shut. You wait, anticipating with blooming wonder the promise of more lingering on his tongue. But when he does not return, you open your eyes, and Cody is waiting for you, dark eyes and soft smile radiant even without the glow of the setting sun.

"Beloved," he says at last, and tips your chin to press one final, dizzyingly gentle kiss to your lips. He may not meet you in vivacious energy, but Cody holds you close, pressing unhurried, luxuriant touches over your skin as you hold tight. His touch is chaste, stolid restraint holding him to only slow, deliberate motions, but you savor every fleeting moment in the evening calm.

When you part, you open your eyes to dusk in its clear, cold darkness, bejeweling the lakefront with scatter of stars high above. Yet all you can see is Cody before you, his soft smile and beating heart glowing brighter than any constellation in the inky black of night, his own radiant sun, spun gold.

Enchanted, you reach one hand up from its place on his shoulder and slowly, trembling, touch one finger to the scar carved around his brow. And he knows that you mean nothing but adoration as you trace the dark ridge of his scar beneath his eye, then lower, over the proud line of his cheek to cradle his jaw in your palm.

"I am only a soldier," Cody murmurs, nuzzling close into your touch. "Cyar'ika," he calls, leaning close to kiss your cheek. "Will you have me all the same?"

The cooling wind rises across the water, brushing stray petals from the trellis vines as your gown flutters around your feet. You wonder if this is what it feels to fly through the aftermath of a supernova, the silence of what was and yet the promise of what might yet be, glittering dust and neon gas diffusing into the ever expanding possibility of the universe. You wonder if this is right where you were always meant to be, aching feet and politics and shared breaths with a simple man with eyes full of light and heart like the sun.

"Only if you will have me," you reply, and the smile that breaks over Cody's lips is brighter than any sunset light you have seen, golden and alive. "Cyar'ika."

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: I think The next post will be the last one for this series!

“Did you...have fun tonight?” The way Dick haltingly asks causes laughter to bubble out of your mouth

“I can say that was nothing like any family dinner I’ve ever seen-“

And if that isn’t the truth, for one - even though you’ve heard of all of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, you didn’t think there would be so many.

Dick’s the oldest, well officially anyway. Barbara Gordon, as in Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, was at dinner too. Apparently she and Dick had a brief stint where they dated. You’re guessing it was before Dick realized he likes boys - or maybe he likes both? You’ve never expressly asked him about using sexuality.

He’s got three little brothers, the youngest and the second oldest seem to have the highest predisposition towards violence, mostly to each other. And then the second youngest, Tim, he seems to be barely held together, mostly through caffeine and anxiety.

Cassandra from class was there too, as well as Stephanie, which was nice to see. They ducked out halfway through, which should have been your queue to duck out too.

Unfortunately you didn’t, which resulted in a rather poorly placed tomato soup stain at the edge of your dress’s hem.

“I like your brothers though” you say with a smile. You did like his brothers. The youngest, Damian, stared at you for seven very long minutes, before saying-

“How do you feel about animals?” When you told him you loved them he seemed pleased. Also, as a college student, you vibe with Tim. Though you do think someone should cut him off and have him switch to herbal tea. Jason seems cool enough, he just looked at you for a second before giving Dick a wolffish grin.

“Alfred was nice too, and it was fun seeing your- uh...Bruce again” You almost called Bruce his Dad. Bruce is nice, but he’s still a bigot. It was nice meeting Alfred, who showed you many pictures of a nine year old Dick Grayson, most of which were him doing acrobatics around the house. Honestly you thought it was adorable, but you put an end to it since Dick was blushing so fiercely that you thought he might combust.

It really was a lot of fun.

You shiver, the cold night air brushing against your bare arms. You’re standing in front of your building, saying your final goodbyes until you scamper off to your apartment, getting ready for another week of classes.

“Here, take my jacket-“ He’s already tugging it off. Before you can protest, it’s settled over your shoulders. The effect is almost instant, tendrils of warmth seeping into your shoulders and upper body.

It smells like him, you think.

Like- like his expensive cologne, with notes of amber and moss- but also like soap, like clean laundry, and something else, something sweet.

“Cotton Candy” You murmur to yourself. He probably eats it by the gallon sized bag , you think with a giggle.

“T-thank you-“ your eyes trail from the sleeve of his suit jacket to Dick, who’s got a pink tint fanning across his face, blue eyes flicking from the ground to your eyes.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, and being so kind and considerate and lovely” and then Dick does something completely unexpected, he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart leaps in your chest, his sickly sweet Cotten candy scent floods your senses.

You would just have to tilt you head up slightly to catch his lips in yours. He smells so sweet, it almost makes you dizzy. It’s like being drunk, you think.

You want to smell him more.

“Thank you for being so accepting.” His words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head. You feel like you’ve sobered right up.

“Of course, we’re friends aren’t we?” You offer Dick a smile, but you know it’s probably strained. You were so caught up in the moment, you forget he’s already in love with someone.

All of his feelings, all of his kisses, they’re reserved for Nightwing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow” You call out, before walking into your building, feeling Dick’s lingering

So you like Dick.

F*ck.

You’re on the balcony of your apartment, nursing a glass of hot tea in the late night- or would it be early hours of the morning? You can make out the sky beginning to lighten into a lighter blue. Great so you stayed up all night thinking about your feelings.

Your body is going to love you for this.

How did this even happen? Were you just so focused on not getting a crush on either of his sisters that you didn’t see this coming. Ugh why dick of all people? Yeah, sure he’s got those sparkly eyes, and that permanent rosy blush, not to mention that lopsided grin-

Okay so you know why you’re falling in love with him. But there’s no point in nursing these blooming feelings not when-

“Hey do you have any sugar?” The masked crusader asks from beside you. That dazzling smile that makes people everywhere swoon aimed at you.

No point in nursing feelings for Dick, when the object of his affections is standing next to you, drinking earl grey out of your pink “Namaste in bed” mug.

“Or not- no big deal, I love my hot leaf juice with or without sugar.” He adds hastily, taking a loud sip as if to show you how much he’s enjoying your hospitality. You must have let your annoyance get to your face. You sigh, it’s not his fault that Dick loves him.

You’re the outsider here.

“So what are you doing out so late?” You ask, just wanting to make some small talk. But Nightwing lights up like you just offered him a million dollars. He’s so friendly it’s almost annoying, not unlike another certain dark haired golden boy you know.

“I’m always up, fighting crime, patrolling the streets-“ you never realized but being a vigilante is kind of a lot of work huh? You wonder if Nightwing has a day job, he looks so young though- maybe he’s still in school.

“The real questions is why are you still up?” His question is punctuated with a slurp of his tea.

“Just thinking I guess” you shrug, taking a sip of your own tea. You’re not about to tell Nightwing you realized you have feelings for his boyfriend.

“Thinking about the person you love?” It feels like you were just struck by an arrow. Nightwing’s mouth stretches. “No way, I was right?” You can almost picture the sparkle in his eyes behind his domino mask. You wonder what color eyes Nightwing has.

Probably a boring brown.

“Well who’s the lucky individual?” Noting your hesitance, Dick starts to get a little nervous. It hurts a little to think you don’t return his feelings. But there’s something about the shy look on your face, the way your eyes avert to your cup of tea, that’s just hopelessly adorable. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him that way.

And then, a terrifying thought occurs to Dick.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” He’s got absolutely no chance if you’re into older men. No unless you’re willing to wait ten years or so.

Then the most amazing thing happens- your mouth opens and laughter spills out. He’s heard you laugh, but never like this. So loud, and almost desperate.

And then, you do something else he’s never seen before. Somewhere along the way those loud laughs transformed into equally loud sobs. Your mouth pinched tight as tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

A hand curls over your eyes in an attempt to cover your face. This is mortifying, you’re basically crying in front of your romantic rival, completely vulnerable.

You’re about to mutter out an excuse, how you’re not usually like this, that you must be close to your period or something. When you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulder, your face pressed against Nightwing’s chest.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” he murmurs reassuringly, his glove covered hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. And even though you were on the edge of recompsure, you’re thrust back into despair. Your sobs leaving you almost breathless as Nightwing continues to hold you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help” Dick whispers. Whatever it is, it must be serious. He’s never seen you cry, not when you were a hostage in that bank robbery, or held at gun point at that restaurant, not even when Damian was basically integrating you all night.

“I love someone, who’s never going to love me back” you manage between sobs, and Nightwing only shushes you. His hand traveling to your hair. Cradling your head against his chest.

He smells so good, like amber and moss, and something sickeningly sweet- like cotton candy.

He smells like Dick.

And that seems to soothe you a bit, along with Nightwing’s gentle warmth.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, I promise”

“Man, and I thought things were going really well between you guys” Stephanie says, her hand threading through her golden curls, head tilting back so it rests against the back of his couch.

“Yeah, me too” Dick admits with a sigh, he’s sitting with his knees propped up on the floor, his back against the wall.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, her eyes are trained on the coffee table, their masks collectively strewn across it.

“So what are you going to do?” Stephanie asks, and Dick sighs again.

“What can I do honestly, they love someone else” he shrugs, he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. But the thought of your with someone else... it makes his stomach hurt.

“Just because she loves someone else right now...doesn’t mean she will forever” Those are the first words Cass has uttered all night, and Dick and Stephanie are both looking at her with wide eyes.

Stephanie’s already hyping him up, saying there’s no way their Dick’s going to lose to some no-face-extra, like your love is some sort of competition to be won.

And Cassandra’s only encouraging her, with energetic nods and the occasional ‘exactly’

But all Dick can think about is the way you felt in his arms, and how small you seemed as sobs wracked through your entire body. How deep your sadness felt, like he might be sucked in any moment too, tears falling from beneath his domino mask.

He hates whoever it is that made you feel that way. If it was him- if you loved him instead, he’d make sure you were never sad, he’d give you everything he was and everything he had if it meant you might smile for him.

He doesn’t want to change your mind, your feelings don’t work like that. All he knows is that he loves you- and what you need right now, is a friend. Someone who-

“Just wants to see them happy” Dick mumbles.

Taglist: @adenspolaroids @libraryoffandomsuniverse @jeneeangella @chyume @masked-mushroom

[prozd]

Bones of the Forgotten

For those unaware, when I was 12 years old, I used to write very gritty Mario fanfiction.  The only reason this exists is because we hit a charity milestone for Extra Life (which by the way you can still donate to here: https://www.extra-life.org/participant/450294)

I decided to write the sort of fanfiction that 12 year old me would've enjoyed writing, so here is my love letter to my youth.

A question block can come in handy in a variety of ways.  You just gotta know how to scrap it down.  Easily done enough with a precision focus Fire Flower blowtorch.  The first thing you gotta do is realize there's nothing bringing that sonuvabitch down; those fuckers float in the air forever no matter how much you push or pull 'em.  Instead, you gotta carve off pieces from it as it's floating up there. Awkward at first, but by the fiftieth time, it's fucking clockwork.

Melt down the pieces and you've got the golden goo perfect for crafting all sorts of nasty tools.  A bat made from question block has just enough lightness for a easy swing, but just enough density to still effectively break a kneecap.  A blade still won't pierce, say, a Chain Chomp, but it can at least pierce most Koopa shells.  Plus, some people just like the gold color; they think it looks sick.

I personally think the best use of question block goo is making bullets out of it.  They're denser than most others and they maintain their speed for longer. The only downside is they stand out if you leave them in a body at a crime scene, but that's irrelevant as long as you're cleaning up your messes properly.  If anyone had the time and resources to search the bottom of the sea near Rogueport Docks, I imagine you'd find a glittering trove of golden bullets scattered among the bones of the forgotten.

One of those bullets dances idly through my fingers as I listen to one of my subordinates, a Craw with the quite frankly unfortunate name of Garf, lament about his recent mistreatment by the Syndicate.

"Ishnail, they just stomped the shit out of us!  Gus and I, we weren't doin' NOTHIN' and those leafy fucks attacked us.  Everyone knows the Plaza's neutral territory, we gotta DO somethin' about this."

Craws get a bad rap, in my opinion.  They get labeled as savage, but I've always found them to be much more thoughtful than people would assume.  Even in this moment, as my eyes gaze upon Garf's tattered, bloodied vest and bandana, and his curved beak squawks in rage, I notice the slightest trace of tears at the very edges of his eyes.  Aw.

"Let me ask you one question, Garf."  Out of respect, Garf immediately goes silent. Again, thoughtful.  "Were you and Gus carrying your spears?"

"I......I mean.....we have to, it's part of Craw culture...."

"I'm well aware, but Garf, I'm sure YOU'RE well aware that no weapons are allowed in the Plaza.  I mean, at the very least, keep a goddamn gun hidden in your pocket, don't wave a fucking SPEAR around.  You're just asking for the Piantas to give you a beating."

I get up from the dingy sofa I've been lounging on and dust myself off.  "But I can't have Don Pianta thinking it's okay to fuck up my guys.  I'll have to have a word with the ol' mustachioed fuck."  I pat Garf on the cheek and wipe a tear away with my thumb.  He nods in appreciation.

I motion to two of my subordinates, a scrappy looking Goomba named Goomfrey and a laidback Hammer Brother named Hamma.  We step outside HQ and into the bustling, grimy streets of Rogueport's east side.  

As long as I've lived in Rogueport, it's always carried the smell of the sea in the air.  It's a welcome scent to me, having grown up in the Seaside Kingdom.  My mom was a Bubblainian; she raised me when my deadbeat Koopa dad left us, and what she gave me was the snail shell on my back and a love for the water.  Merchants shouting and the occasional "STOP, THIEF!" ring out as my muscle and I make our way through the Plaza.  We pass the gallows where the Shadow Queen's corpse was supposedly hung from one thousand years ago.  Fittingly gruesome lore for a city filled with murderous rat-bastards.

A sickly sweet scent starts to mingle with the smell of the sea and garbage I'm used to. It's an indication that we're entering the west side of Rogueport. Sure, it's a much tidier area than where the Robbos and I live; there may be fancy-ass things like "flowers" and "benches," how hoity-toity.  You can put lipstick on a Li'l Oink, but it still smells like shit.

We walk into Westside Goods.  There's no need for the customary password; Peeka, the Boo shopkeeper, knows why I'm here.  She opens up the back door, and we walk up the stairs in the back alley to Don Pianta's office.

"Ishnail, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Don Pianta stands behind his desk; as much as I hate to admit it, his presence is overwhelming.  "And you brought friends, too?" he notes as he sees Goomfrey and Hamma.

If you want to live long in Rogueport, every time you enter a room, you have to mentally gauge 1. the quickest way to escape, 2. who you may need to disable and/or kill to escape, and 3. how easy that's all going to be.  Two giant yellow Pianta in suits stand guard at both sides of the Don's desk. A blue Pianta in a white suit, the Don's underboss Frankie, closes the door behind us.  

Piantas are not easy to injure, let alone kill; I know this from years of tangling with the Don's gang.  The little palm trees and skirts would make you think otherwise, but Piantas are naturally built like fucking dump trucks and hit just as hard.  Hamma's a Glitz Pit fighter, and I've seen what he can do with that hammer.  Goomfrey gets underestimated for his species, but his reputation precedes him; he has bitten off more fingers than your average Rogueportian.  Still, a fight against four Piantas, even with my question block bullets, would be brutal.  It's telling that you never see a Pianta with a weapon because nothing will kill you faster than simply their own fists.

"Your men attacked mine, Don.  And for what, carrying spears?  You and I both know that's bullshit."

"My men....have been on edge.  Your little Bandit friends have been scuttling around, picking too many pockets they shouldn't be.  Keep that shit on the East Side where it belongs, and we'll be fine."

As Don Pianta talks, he habitually cracks his knuckles.  Out of all the Piantas in the syndicate, Don Pianta is truly a mammoth; his muscles are barely contained by the suit he's wearing.  Honestly, if he wasn't my ultimate arch-nemesis in this town, shit, I'd fuck him.  I like my men beefy.

"Alright, Don.  I'll tell my boys to keep their weapons out of the plaza.  You and I both know no one benefits if we fight in the streets.  Bad business for both your establishments and mine.  Let's keep things quiet."

"Agreed," The Don extends a giant hand.  I shake it firmly.

I turn to leave with my muscle in tow.  As I open the door to leave, I hear a whisper.

"Get your slimy shell outta here, you fuck."

I pause.  I give Goomfrey the look, and he smirks.  Goomfrey's eyes quickly dart and I know he's already memorizing every little detail about the yellow Pianta who whispered the insult.  Without another word, I close the door behind me.

---

There's one more use for question block goo I forgot to mention.  It's perfect for weighing things down.  

I breathe in the salty seaport air; it's particularly sweet tonight.  The golden bullet dances between my fingers; I know it's a bad habit, but it's fun to fidget with.  It'll go to good use though.  I load it into my Fire Flower pistol with a few others and carefully attach the silencer.

"Now, listen, uh...what was his name again?"

"Paulie," says Goomfrey, standing to my side with a grin.

"That's right, Paulie.  I'm a pretty patient person, I think most people including your boss would agree, but I've got a real sore spot about the shell, ya know?  It's just, it reminds me of my dear old ma, and I love her to bits.  You understand, right?"

There is no response from Paulie due to his crushed windpipe courtesy of Hamma's hammer.  Quite frankly, I'm impressed he's still conscious from the pain.  He looks up at me from his crouching position eyes filled with hate, his hands and feet encased in reforged golden question blocks.  Piantas are heavy, so four blocks worth is safest.

"I did promise the dear Don that I'd keep things quiet, so let's cut to the chase." I point the gun at his forehead and before he can react, I fire three shots.  There's no need to prolong this shit; I'm not a sadist. Hamma and Goomfrey pick up the body and toss it off the port into the sea.

"For what it's worth, boss," says Hamma in a low, pleasant baritone.  "I like your shell.  Looks good on ya."

"Aww, thanks."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pull

Sequel to Push

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The sheriff keeps coming around.

Note: Okay, so probably a three-parter. I didn’t intend for this to go beyond a one shot but same old story, eh.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh what the hell she says I just can't win for losing And she lays back down”

-Her Diamonds, Rob Thomas

🚔

You stared out the window. The trees along the edge of the yard were pale and barren, a sheet of frost laid over the ground. There was a wailing in your head. The tears blurred your vision and your fingernails curled into the lip of the sink.

"Goddamn it, girl," you flinched at your father's voice. "The kettle's fucking screaming."

You pushed yourself away from the sink and shook away the haze. You turned the knob and moved the kettle to the front burner. You took off the lid of the percolator and poured the piping water inside. You left the coffee to brew and turned your back to the stove.

"Are you alright?" Will asked as he cut up his eggs with his fork.

"She's fine. She just ain't wanna do her work." Your father growled through a mouthful. "Way she's been draggin' her ass lately like the rest of us ain't work a lot harder than rinsing a pan or sweeping a dang floor."

"I've been doing all that, daddy." You cringed after you spoke. Not just because you knew you're father wouldn't like it but because that word, 'daddy', tickled that memory in the back of your head.

"Try to do it without makin' a bigger mess," he snarled. "Your ma raised you better. She was still here, she'd be shakin' her head."

Not just at me, you thought but kept it to yourself. You turned and filled the four cups lined up with coffee. You set each before the men at the table. Your brothers thanked you, your father grumbled for the sugar. You set the dish in the centre of the table and backed away. 

You would eat after them. A bowl of porridge with cinnamon as your daddy went to his shed and the boys drove into town. Your only peace for the day although you hadn't had any since that night.

Six days. You counted each in your head. Laying in your bed, sleepless. Even after almost a week, you still felt the Sheriff's intrusion. You were still sore; bruises on your ass and thighs, a hole deep in your being. You closed your eyes and you were bent over the chair or the table. Your skin crawled and your stomach flipped. You couldn't shake the terrible shadow from your mind.

They left without ado, the boys in an argument over Mr. Calver's new car and what year it was. You cleared the table and sat to make yourself eat. It was hard but after a two day fast, you'd almost passed out against the burning stove. So you ate without tasting and washed the dishes.

You found yourself gazing out the window again. Snow began to fall and you shivered. You looked down, your hands mindlessly in the dishwater that had long turned cold. You pulled the plug and dried your pruned hands. 

The gravel crunched outside as the wind battered flakes against the window panes.

Your heart dropped. It used to be weeks between visits, sometimes a whole month. As of late, Sheriff Bodecker had taken to visiting more often. You were never very vain but you suspected it might be on your account. How could it not be?

You went to the door and peeked out the tall window beside it. It was him. The lights atop the cruiser and the emblem painted across the door. It was early but every visit was unexpected.

He looked at the house and you let go of the curtain. You pressed yourself to the door and listened. His footsteps trailed away and he knocked on the shed door. Your father answered in his usual gruff demeanor.

You felt brittle as you pushed away from the door. You walked to the stairs and looked up. The carpet was worn away by years of steps taken up and down. You leaned against the railing as you climbed. Don’t think about the man below and perhaps he wouldn’t think of you.

You took a cloth from the linen closet at the end of the hall and began to wipe down the plates that decorated the wall. Each was painted with a landmark; Niagara Falls, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Pyramids in Giza. You focused on cleaning each, even as your hands shook and your legs threatened to crumple.

His hands on you, his sickly sweet breath, his body crushed against you. You gripped the plate with the image of the Coliseum. You stared at the hundreds of windows, the falling facade. Your eye overflowed and the door below slammed.

You sniffed and set the plate back in the hooks. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater and wiped the top of the side table. Thick soles climbed the stairs and a figure stopped in your peripheral. You turned as Lee peered down at you, fingering the heel of his gun as he neared.

“Your pa said I could use the facility,” he said.

“Behind me,” you said quietly as you picked up the vase and wiped the inside. 

“What’re you doin’? Tryna hide from me up here?” He tapped two fingers on the table.

You shook your head and put the pot down. You looked at the old sepia picture of your parents beside it.

“You know, I was wanting to come back sooner but… duty calls.” He lowered his voice as he leaned close, “There’s not much to do sittin’ around in the cruiser. I end up thinking of you. Wishin’ it was your hand down my pants instead of mine.”

“Sheriff,” you breathed. “Please, don’t--”

“You mad ‘cause I been gone, I get it. Not right of a man to be with a woman than just leave her waitin’,” he touched your cheek as you looked away. “You smell nice.”

“You better do your business and get goin’, sheriff,” you uttered. “I got laundry to do.”

“No point in actin’ all coy anymore,” his hand stretched over your jaw and he forced you to look at him. “And I can’t hold out much longer. You remember the river, where I take my break, you meet me there at midnight, after your pa’s asleep.”

“It’s snowing,” you argued.

“I don’t care if it’s a goddamn blizzard. You come find me or I find you,” he snarled and his hand slipped down to the top of your dress. He undid the top two buttons and squeezed your tits together as he watched them with a lewd leer. “I gotta pay more attention to these… but that ass is so nice.”

“My daddy--”

“Half drunk, as usual,” he huffed, “I could fuck you on his bed right now and he’d be none the wiser.” He purred and admired your tits as he bounced them. “Midnight… I’ll keep the car warm for you.”

He winked and dropped his hands, his palm brushing over the front of his pants and causing him to groan. He turned away and unbuckled his pants as he entered the bathroom. He kicked the door closed and you whimpered.

If your daddy found out what had happened, even if it was the Sheriff, he’d string you up by your knickers.

🚔

You found the flashlight under the stairs and waited until the house was filled with snores. The old standing clock ticked as you counted down the hours sat on the stairs across from the front door. The snow wasn’t thick but enough to make it slippery. With the night, the temperature dropped and seeped in around the windows. It would take you a while to get through the woods.

You opened the front door carefully. You wore the old hand-me-down coat and your heavy boots. You hated the forest after dark. When you were kids, your older brothers like to tell tales of grisly murders and other atrocious acts there. You’d since learn much of those were fantasy but it didn’t make them any less sinister.

You flipped the flashlight on as you neared the trees. You hit it twice to get the bulb alight. You pointed it ahead of you and followed the glow like a beacon. If your daddy knew what you were about, if your mama was alive to know it… you could hardly bear it yourself.

Your teeth chattered as the bitter wind swept under your skirt and you crossed your free arm over your middle. You hunched against the cold as flakes began to fall once more. You heard the river ahead of you and came out onto the dirty shore.

Bodecker’s cruiser sat waiting, his flashlight on the dash as it lit up the interior. You saw him in the yellow haze as you neared. He got out as he spotted you and rounded the car. His breath fogged before him and he rubbed his hands together.

“Got the heat on, not that you’ll be cold for long,” he said, “Come on,” he opened the back door and reached for the flashlight. You handed it to him as he waved you into the car. “On your back.”

He was out of pretense, out of patience. You sat and shimmied back on the seat. He got in behind you and pulled the door closed as he huddled on his knees on the seat. He was bent awkwardly as he grabbed at your skirt.

“Common, let’s get these off,” he reached up and grabbed the waist of your wool tights and jolted them down your thighs. “It’s so fucking cold. I don’t know we can keep to the car through the winter.” He left your tights at your knees and tore down your underwear. He pushed your legs up so they hung around him, the wool stretched across his stomach. “There’s a hotel in town. We can drive in…”

His voice trailed off as he fumbled with his pants. He grunted and planted a hand beside your head as he bent over you. He slapped the tip of his cock against your cunt as you turned your face away from him. You pressed your lips together. Better to have it done with.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head. “Open your eyes…” he rubbed his nose against yours and pushed against your entrance. “Look at your daddy, girl.”

“Please--” You opened your eyes and begged. “Please, don’t make--”

He impaled you and let out a long groan. You yelped and as you curled beneath him and he sank to his limit. It hurt just as much as before. He hit the same bruises as he began to thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said with each tilt of his hips, “You don’t know how I’ve been thinking about you.”

He pushed himself up as he continued to move against you. He unzipped your coat and unbuttoned your blouse with some difficulty. He ripped your jacket, shirt, and brassiere strap down your shoulder. He grabbed your tit as it fell loose and toyed with your nipple. He flicked with his thumb and circled the hard nub.

“You need to dress yourself up, girl,” He purred between thick breaths. “Show off what you got. Just for me, no one else.”

“I can’t-- I can’t--” You squealed as he sped up and sent a pang up your spine. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“I ain’t care about your pa,” he murmured, “I’ll buy you something nice, hmmm? Then I can fuck you in that.”

You blinked away the tears as they threatened. This man could use your body but he wouldn’t see you cry. You hadn’t truly done that since your mama’s funeral. 

The car rocked with him. He crushed you into the seat as his feet hit the door. He was too tall to be crammed in the back of the cruiser atop you but it barely seemed to matter. The leather of his coat squeaked as he hammered into you and the scent of his sweat permeated the air. 

He dropped down on you, smothering you as his hips kept going. He nuzzled your ear and gave a throaty grunt. He came and slapped the seat beside your head. He slowed and went limp over you, out of breath as he shuddered.

“Mmm, can I use my cuffs on you next time, girl?” He lifted his head and tickled your temple. “Hmm? You can be my perp?”

You stared at him, mortified. You nodded, unable to speak.

“Tomorrow,” he rasped, “I won’t wait another week.”

🚔

Your nights belonged to the Sheriff and the days had never truly been your own. Two weeks of his sick game, trekking through the dark, cold woods to his cruiser by the frozen river. Face down on his seat, cuffs behind your back, him behind you, on top of you.

That day, he’d been by to see your father. He found you in the kitchen before he went. “Forget the underwear tonight, girl.” That was all he said before he left you to dread him again.

The same path, the same bobbing light before you, the knot deep in your gut. You were as sick with yourself as you were with him. You let him use you. Maybe you didn’t have a choice but you didn’t fight. You just laid there and waited for him to finish.

As you walked through the woods, you still jumped at every snapped twig and every rustle. It all seemed louder that night. The wind was wild and the branches shook above, no leaves left to block the moonlight.

He took your jacket off that night. You shivered and he cuffed your hands behind your back. He bent you over the hood and hiked up your skirt. Your thigh highs began to sag as he entered you. Your cheek nearly stuck to the cold metal of the car as he pushed your head down.

“Fuck yeah, girl, you like when daddy fucks you?” He snarled as he slapped your ass. The open zipper of his jacket brushed your skin and his pants scratched the top of your thighs. “Hmm, you like being a whore?” He tugged on the cuffs as he fucked you harder. “That’s it.”

He snorted and slowed. You sensed a disturbance and he reached to his loose belt.

“Who’s there?” He called out as he slipped out of you.

“I fucking knew you was sneakin’ around,” Your father’s voice cut through the air. “Might be with a policeman but it don’t make it any better, you tramp.”

You tried to stand and Bodecker pushed you back down. “She’s a grown woman and times are changin’, Rhett. Why don’t you go back home? You know I’ll get her there safe.”

“Home? Uh uh, she can stay out in the cold. I won’t have no whore under my roof.”

“Now, let’s not be rash, Rhett, I’ll take care of her. You won’t have to. I was just--”

“Everyone knows about you, Lee,” your father barked, “This where you take your other whores?”

“I’m a changed man,” Bodecker insisted and you heard a subtle snap. You watched as their shadows got closer in the dark lit up only by the flashlight thrown onto the ground. “She’s--”

“You can keep her. Maybe you can find a man who will buy or sell her when you’re done.”

“Don’t be sayin’ that--”

“You fat fuck, don’t you--”

You were deafened by the sudden bang and your ears rang as your father’s body slumped to the floor. You stood with some trouble and stumbled back. You heard your father gasping as he twitched in the dirt. Bodecker turned and caught you before you could stepped away from the hood.

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” He growled as he bent you over the hood again.

“Daddy!” You cried out. “What did you do? Daddy--”

“I told you,” he pressed the gun to your head and poked around until he slid back inside you, “He ain’t your daddy no more.”

Your boots kicked in the dirt as he fucked you. The cold metal of the gun had you frozen, your eyes on your father’s body as the life slowly drained from him. You closed your eyes as his last, moist breaths escaped him. You bit down; you couldn’t cry, not even then.

You didn’t even notice as Bodecker finished and backed away. As his cum leaked from you and your legs folded. You fell onto the cold ground and he hauled you up into the back seat. He slammed the door and got in the front.

“Daddy…” You muttered.

“Pity. You never know what scoundrels are hanging out in the woods after dark,” Bodecker said as he started the car. “That’s some bad news to wake up to, isn’t is, girl?”

“Wh-why-why?” You stammered.

“Shhhh, you gotta be quiet, girl,” he coaxed, “‘Specially when drop you off. Better not wake any of your brothers, right?” He was quiet for a moment and cleared his throat loudly, “Right?”

“Right,” you whispered as your sticky thighs rubbed together, “Right, right, right…”

🚔

“Now, girl, you go inside and put your clothes in a bag and wash yourself up.” Those were Bodecker’s instructions as he dropped you off. 

You didn’t remember doing it but you awoke with damp sheets and a bag by your bed. You rolled over, stiff from the night spent tense and rolling back and forth. It hadn’t really been sleep. More shock.

You laid there. Numb. You heard the gurgling again. Saw the lifeless black form of your father’s body in the dirt. It wasn’t real. You’d go downstairs and he’d be there. Once you put on the coffee he’d get up and demand a cup. It couldn’t be real.

You sat up and kicked the bag under your bed. You wore the grey dress with the pleats, a black sweater over it, with black stockings, and your mary janes. You descended the stairs one at a time and put the kettle on the stove. You stared out the window. It had snowed more in the last hours of the night.

You got out the tray of eggs and the sausages. You searched for the large skillet and Will walked in with a yawn. He was always the first up. You stared at him as he sat at the table. You tried to say something, maybe you said ‘good morning’, and then you went back to your work.

Arn and Cal came shortly after. None of the three mentioned your father’s absence. It wasn’t that unusual. Sometimes he drank too much, sometimes he had been up for hours or hadn’t slept at all. You served them and added the bacon grease to the jar of lard.

Where was he? He couldn’t be there. In the dirt. In his own blood. Dead. No, he was going to come right through that door.

You heard the tires before the knock. Your heart raced as reality closed in around you. Arn got up to answer it and came back with the sheriff. He didn’t even acknowledge you as he nodded at the men around the table.

“Pa’s not awake yet,” Will said and chewed the edge of a strip of bacon.

“Well, I think…” Bodecker hooked his thumb in his belt, his stomach sticking out awkwardly, “I think we need to talk about your pa. Can I sit?”

“Course, sir,” Cal said, “Should be enough fixins if you want some.”

“No, no thank you,” Bodecker sat heavily and sighed. He was an effective actor. “Look, your pa… well, we don’t know exactly what happened but… we all agree he must’ve been drunk.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Arn snipped, “What do you mean? Pa is here--”

“You remember when he went to bed last night?” Bodecker asked.

“Well…” Cal frowned and looked at his brother. “Well, I think I laid down before him.”

“Me too,” Arn said.

“I’m always the first asleep,” Will added. “Same with my sister.”

You gulped as the sheriff finally looked at you. “Well, you know we had them flyers around town for the longest time about the woods. About the criminals we got hangin’ around these days and there’s really no easy way for me to say it but it looks like your pa ran into one of them last night.”

“All the way out in the woods? But why?” Cal asked.

Arn’s nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Because he got no sense. You remember last summer. We found him face down in a bog out there. Took the three of us to get him out.”

“Yeah, but so late…”

“You know how he’s been since ma.” Will intoned.

You were dizzy. You grabbed onto the counter as your legs turned to liquid and you cried out. “No!” You fell to your knees and touched your forehead. You knew it was real, you’d seen it, but you had wanted so badly for it to have been a dream. A nightmare.

Will was the first at your side. Bodecker helped him lifted you back to your feet and get you to a chair. Arn and Cal watched in concern.

“You sure it was our pa?” Arn asked.

“I’ll save you the sight. I can assure you it’s him.” Bodecker said as he rubbed your shoulder and Will stood over you. “She should be fine. Get her some water. It’s the shock. You know the ladyfolk and their temperaments. They aren’t so equipped for things like this.”

“Any idea who? Why?” Arn prodded.

“Don’t think your pa had the sense to take his wallet but his belt buckle was gone and we can’t be sure what else they took,” Bodecker took your hand and caressed the back of it, “Honey, you drink tea? You want your brothers’ get you some?”

“I-- I--- You--You--” You stuttered.

“Come on, boys, let’s get her laying down,” Bodecker said as he stood. “She’s just havin’ a moment.”

Will and Cal lifted you out of the chair and carried you to the sofa in the front room. You were stiff as a board as they angled you onto the cushion and you could only babble at the ceiling.

“Go get that tea going, Will,” Bodecker ordered, “Cal, you go get her something to keep her warm.” Arn stood in the doorway and watched. “And Arn, get some wood for the fire. We should get it going.”

The boys dispersed as you laid across the couch. Bodecker touched your shoulder and you latched onto his wrist.

“You--” You hissed.

“Shhh, I only did what I had to. What you made me do,” he whispered, “‘cause you weren’t careful.”

You turned your head back and forth and squirmed. “No, no, no! You raped me! You killed my daddy!’

He covered your mouth and leaned over you. “Shut up! Shut up!” He sneered and his other hand went to your throat. “Now you got your clothes in a bag.” You nodded with wide eyes. “Good. I’m gonna take your brothers into town and you’re gonna burn them. Got it?” You nodded again. “And you’re gonna shut up.”

He released you roughly and stood as Cal came in with a blanket and tossed it over you. Bodecker helped straighten it and looked around.

“Think y’all should come back with me. We can get you sorted at the station then see about the caretaker.”

“All that already?” Arn asked.

“I ain’t rushing. Bodies don’t keep long, though. Investigations neither. We’ll get some statements from you boys and you’ll be free to choose what you wanna do from there.”

🚔

Will stayed home from school to keep watch over you. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. When your ma died, you didn’t feel this empty. You had cried for her, mourned for her. But now all you could do was sit there. Was it your fault? Even if Bodecker had pulled the trigger, you had brought your father there. You had been so concerned with keeping the sheriff from telling your secret, you had failed to hide it yourself.

Bodecker stopped by almost daily. He claimed it was to ask more questions or check on the family but you didn’t miss the way he looked at you. The way he made the excuse to be in the same room when he talked to your brothers. The way he shifted on his feet and peered around the house in silent triumph.

On the fifth day, you made Will go to school. He shouldn’t miss class because of you. He was the only one out of the boys who had ever read a book full through. So you saw them off, a proper breakfast for them for the first time since that horrifying morning, and you went about the list of undone chores.

You looked out the window at the shed. Your daddy never said much to you but you were used to his presence; the noise of his activity just outside. You couldn’t blame him for his faults, he’d fought a war, he’d worked hard, and he’d lost a wife. And now he was dead because of you.

You were scrubbing the floor when you heard the engine and the rubber treads on snow. You didn’t stop as you tried to scour away the salt stains and layer of dirt from the hallway. Boots clambered up the stairs and you kept your head down. 

No knock, no warning as Bodecker opened the door. You looked up at him as he kicked the snow off his feet.

“You’re up and about today,” he said in a pandering tone.

You said nothing and focused on your work. He took off his jacket and hung it on the rack in the corner. He wiped his boots on the mat and watched you. He hummed as he tapped his toe.

“I like that. You on all fours.” He taunted.

You sat back on your heels and dropped the rag in the bucket. “I got cleaning to do, Sheriff, and if you don’t recall, my daddy’s gone… for good.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said as you lifted the pail and he followed you to the kitchen. “But do you? Do you really know it?”

You dumped the water down the sink and plunked the empty bucket on the floor. “I know it and I know who done it. I saw you. How could you?”

“Your brother Arn’s gonna get the house in the will. He’ll be lookin’ for a wife soon. Means Cal’s gonna have to get his own place, take Will with him or get a wife of his own. And you? Where does that leave you?”

“There’s jobs for me out there, I can clean, I can cook,  I’m sure I could waitress,” you argued as you crossed to him. You grabbed his arms and tried to shove him. “Go. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d prefer it if you left me alone all together. You got what you wanted, Sheriff.”

“Not all of it,” he smirked. “You gonna drive yourself mad with all this.”

“What do you care?” You slapped his chest with both hands. “You don’t care about no one but you. You killed him!” You hit him again, “You killed him!”

He grabbed your upper arms and shook you. “You shut up about that now. You say anything again and you’ll be lyin’ beside him. If that ain’t enough, I’ll put your brothers there first.”

You reeled as if he’d slapped you. Your lip quivered and you sucked it in to keep from sobbing. “What do you want from me? I never wanted any of this.”

“You can’t know what you want, girl,” he wrenched you back and turned as he dragged you through to the living room. “So let me show you what you want. What your new daddy can do for you.”

“Get off of me!” You wrestled with him as he angled you around the couch. He shoved you and you fell back onto the cushions. “Leave me alone!”

He forced you back as you tried to stand and grabbed your chin. He squeezed as he looked down at you.

“Take them bloomers off now,” he ordered. “And hush your mouth.” You gaped up at him. He turned his hand and rested it against your cheek. “There’s one sure way to knock some sense into a woman,” he slapped you lightly, “You can decide if this lesson is an easy one or not.”

You sat back as you shrugged away his hand. You winced and lifted your pelvis and slipped off your underwear. As you did, your stockings bunched at your knees. Lee watched you with thick breath and purred. He knelt down and pushed your legs apart.

“Put your arms up. Just across the couch. Relax.” He directed as he got closer. “I wanna show you somethin’ makes the girls happy.”

“What are you--”

“You stop asking questions before I make it so you can’t. Now,” he squeezed your knees and his hands slipped up your thighs as he urged them further apart, “Just don’t think. Just sit there.”

He lifted your skirt over your head, one hand still on your legs. His warm breath tickled your pelvis and you squirmed. He pinched you and you exclaimed. You stilled and he slid his tongue down your cunt and poked between your folds. You choked on air as he dragged the tip of his tongue around your bud and your legs tense as your feet tried to arch in your flats.

He delved more firmly into your pussy and you grabbed onto the sofa. Your heart sped up and you pushed your pelvis out without thinking. You looked down at his head draped in your skirt as his mouth made sloppy noises. You felt a strange tingle as he kept on and your neck was pricked as you filled with guilt. It should feel good, whatever he was doing.

“Stop, please, Sheriff,” you begged.

He lapped hungrily as he ignored you and his hands gripped your hips. He pushed you into the couch as he devoured you and drew your pleasure to a point on his tongue. Your breath hitched and you moaned without thinking. You wanted him to stop but more, you wanted him to keep going.

And he did. He seemed to enjoy it just as much as your core pulsed. Your fingers dug into the cushion and your toes curled. You cried out, a voice that didn’t sound like yours, and rocked your pelvis against his face as you were overcome with delirium. You’d never felt so delicious.

Every ounce of strength drained from you. You panted as you slouched against the couch and he pulled away. Your skirt slipped from his head and his lips shone with your juices. He rubbed your legs and watched you writhe as your nerves were overwrought.

He stood with a grunt and unbuckled his belt. He licked his lips and tilted his head. “I knew you wanted me and now you know it too,” he said, “Now you show me that ass. You know I can’t resist.”

[kookieswan]

Amaranth Part II – Lobelia

Apprentice!Jungkook x Royal!Reader (f)

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: very slight angst, tiny bit of humor.

Summery: Listening to everyone drone on about an illness they know nothing about, you wish for nothing more than to be anywhere else.

Note: The second part is here! I’m introducing Tae and Jimin in this chapter and the answer is yes to the question you’ll have at the end of the chapter about them lol. Enjoy and let me know what you think! ✨🌸

Part II of the Amaranth Series! Masterlist Here!

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There’s about a billion different people trying to talk to you as you walk through the shrouded halls of the castle, but you evade them to the best of your ability. There’s no possible way you can give the answers to anyone because you don’t have any, not yet. You’re just as far in the dark, wanting desperately to climb out of the deep hole everyone else has fallen into.

Walking into the dark chamber, you sigh a little as you spot Jimin and Taehyung standing readily by your assigned seat. Namjoon walks past you, heading toward some of the other higher ups to likely get some more information before the whole thing starts. You’re thankful he handles things like this for you, it can get old fast talking to ancient pretentious men. It’s one of their favorite hobbies to talk down to you, being a young woman of power apparently frightens them greatly.

“And where have you been, flower?” Jimin’s voice is sickly sweet, but his sharp eyes and flared nostrils instantly give away his disposition. You sidetrack at him first to sit down, placing your head in your hand before looking at him directly.  Glancing over to Tae, he gives you a look that demands answers. There’s really is no reason to lie, so you decide not to.

“Namjoon and I went out for breakfast and met up with Jungkook. Not a big deal.” Jimin scoffs as Tae narrows his eyes, both displeased with the answer. They always get a little cranky when you go out without them, especially Taehyung. They take their jobs as your guardians very seriously, but it’s not like people are trying to assassinate you left and right. Your advisor makes his way back over, sitting down by your side and laying out some of the notes on the situation. It doesn’t look like much, and it worries you a bit. Why would the call such a meeting without any evidence of what’s going on?

Sitting at the head of the room are the council, three people that help your uncle rule the land. It’s customary for them to hold meetings when the King isn’t present, and apparently, he’s busy as of right now. Not a surprise really, he always seems to be doing something when he’s needed most. The room starts to settle as the council rise up from their seats, cloaked slightly as the light from the chandeliers fade from the room, elemental orbs flickering a soft glow to fill in the shadows. I would almost be pretty if the air in the room wasn’t suffocating.

 “Welcome all. Let’s get started… To be frank, we have a huge issue on our hands. As you’ve probably all heard, there’s a mystery illness plaguing our lands.” By the voice you can tell it’s Grekka, a kind man but also stubborn to a fault. You’re thankful he has a soft spot for you because you can’t help but to challenge most people’s judgment a majority of the time. Of course, it’s not like they can do anything to you, you technically have the authority to strip them of their status if you so please.

“We’re essentially in the dark. No one has been able to figure out how it spreads.” Sheel speaks up this time, one of the crankiest men you’ve ever met in your life. He looks like he’s a billion years old and acts the part. You’re one hundred percent sure he hates you more than anything in the world but that’s okay, you feel the same. The room booms with voices, people frantically talking about what they know or what they’ve heard. People are already asking questions and the council tries desperately to calm them. Namjoon leans in slightly, closing the space between you to whisper into your ear.

“I can already tell this isn’t going to go anywhere fast. Just try not to fall asleep this time, hm?” Pouting a little, you nod your head as he chuckles and continues to pen down notes. Jimin shifts at your side, looking bored and ready to take off as he picks at his nails. Glancing over at Tae, he stands like a statue, gaze fixed forward with his arms crossed over his chest. Truthfully, you could have all gone out to the garden instead, no one would have really missed you. Picked some flowers…. Had a picnic maybe...? What a waste of a beautiful day.

“Quiet down please… Thank you. We also don’t know where it comes from. Whoever crafted up this abomination doesn’t want to be found.” Islel’s soft voice surrounds the room, their voice coming out gently against the crowed. They never want to be here, never really wanted to put their voice out there. They fit the definition of a vamp quite well, avoiding people at all costs. It’s a curious thing, how they managed to get in the position they’re currently in.  You share the same inclination, absolutely loathing having to attend these meetings. Everyone acts like a hard-ass and refuses to try and understand other people’s sides.

Losing all interest in what they’re saying, you notice that Jimin’s wearing a pretty skirt made out of a sort of thin material. It’s almost like silk, but lighter and sheer against his skin. The Fae have such different ways, though Jimin never shies away from you questions. Not thinking too much of it, you grasp at his leg and play with the material, gently rubbing your hand over it. It feels almost like a cloud, a jumping cloud as Min flexes his thigh a few times.

There are too many pieces missing at this point, too many unanswered questions about this “illness”. No amount of talking is going to make any new information come to light. Jimin pats your head in response, used to your antics and entirely understanding the boredom. You’re only drawn out of your stupor because Namjoon flicks your arm delicately with his pen. You swat back at him, quickly poking his dimpled cheek as he attempts to conceal his smile.

“… think we need to send someone to go visit him. It’s the only way.” Visit who now? You gaze on in confusion and Namjoon sighs, continuing to jot down notes for you to peruse later. You cringe a bit, mouthing a sorry as you try to tune back into what’s going on. You usually try your best but today you have about zero gumption to do so, thinking about how Jungkook seemed dispirited by you leaving.

 “Well, who shall we send? Does anyone here actually want to visit the Dark Mage? Yoongi isn’t exactly pleasant to be around.” You’ve never met the Dark Mage personally, only hearing whispers of him around the castle. He almost seems like a folktale to the people of Florette, wandering the land as a ghost. He walks in shadows… Perhaps you can ask him how to do the same sometime.

“I say we send the princess. She could use the experience, learn a thing or two about diplomacy.” You snap your head up, the three men in your entourage doing the same. They wanted you to leave? Sometime is now evidently. Well, if this isn’t a blessing in disguise you don’t know what is. It’s been suffocating recently around the castle, so this is your golden opportunity for some freedom. You hum a little as if in though, but already know your answer.

“I’ll go… but I’m taking who I want. I will also be doing things my way, if I’m to do this then I should be able to handle the situation as I please.” There’s silence for a while, the council considering your offer. You know it’s a desperate time and that you shouldn’t be obstinate, but you will not deal with some random douche-canoe they try to send with you. There’s a tiny sigh before Islel speaks up.

“That is fine, what exactly are your parameters though?” You think for a second, considering your choices carefully. As much as you want to ask Namjoon for his opinion, you opt out of doing so. A good number of the people in this room will use anything they can against you, including indecisiveness, a terrible trait for a ruler.

“I’ll be taking my advisor Namjoon and my guardians Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. We will take a few days to prepare before we set off on our journey, there’s a number of things that need to be put into order.” You can hear them start to talk amongst themselves, Jungkook’s named being spoken more than once. You’re not shocked, they seem to hold some disdain for him. Smiling, you sit back in your seat... Good. Honestly, you’d like to just sneak off with Jungkook but that would never happen. Not again anyway. You remember fondly leaving with him last summer after bamboozling the people around you, sneaking completely out of the capitol and to one of the most beautiful beaches you had ever seen.

The sand was soft on your feet and the stars shined like crystals. Sure, there was beauty at home but the idea of just running and being free was arousing. Many see Jungkook as a bad influence for encouraging you to do such things, but you couldn’t deny it more. He’s what makes you feel the most alive a majority of the time. You had used all the skills you possessed at the time, making it unbelievably hard to track you and Jungkook alike. After a few days it faded though, and you were found out by your guardians pretty quickly after that. Ah, the hell you faced…

“Do you have to bring the boy? He’s not reall-“Cutting Sheel off instantly, you try you best to refrain from telling him to fuck off. The old bag really likes to try and cut corners. Instead, you explain that as Princess of Florette, you can do whatever the hell you want in the nicest way possible. Islel speaks back up after you finish, clearly wanting to try and finish things off quickly.

“Fine, we find these circumstances agreeable. Please leave as soon as possible and communicate when you are leaving with a general plan. We expect you to make contact with the Dark Mage known as Yoongi and talk to him in length about the issue of this illness. If anyone has answers, it will be him.” You nod along as they speak, wanting nothing more than to get out of this damn chamber. It’s stuffy and starting to smell like sweat and apathy.

“Dismissed!” With that there’s near madness again, people flying out of the chamber as quickly as they can. You wait back, biting at your lips as everyone else files out of the room. Namjoon begins to get all of his documents in order, the neat handwriting on the papers still slightly damp from the black ink. You had tried to convince him a million times to just use a laptop for longer meetings like this, but he never wanted to. Whatever floats his cute little boat. Taehyung cracks his neck as he turns toward you, small smile on his face. In turn, Jimin flutters his wings, the opalescent extremities striking brilliantly against the light.

“Well, that was fucking boring.” You snort in a rather unladylike manner but agree fully with Taehyung. All they really seemed to talk about was shit that everyone else already knew. If anything, this seemed to be a guise to get you to take on the mission of meeting with the Dark Mage. It’s amusing to think that he’s so intolerable that no one else really wants to try and fetch him. You decide to ask about it, knowing that your guardians may have an answer. They have a number of years on you after all.

“Is the Dark Mage really so bad…?” Taehyung stays quiet, eyebrows furrowing as he refuses to answer. Jimin blinks a few times at him before humming a little. He sits down on the table in front of you, mischievous little grin on his face as he folds his hands on his lap. You notice passively that his nails are a pretty red color and that they match his plump lips. It goes well with the pale pink of his robes.

“Not really no. He’s just a little spitfire that one, always relatively grumpy and unwilling to talk to most. He and my handsome Taetae had a little disagreement forty or so years back and they haven’t seen eye to eye ever since.” You raise a brow, curious but unwilling to ask. Forty years is a long time to hold a grudge but if anyone can grasp onto one like a lifeline its Tae. You’ve seen him fight Jimin over something as mundane as dumplings before… probably the closes they’ve ever come to breaking up.

“It wasn’t a disagreement Minie. He tried to DROWN me!” You blink a few times, trying not to giggle at the outrageous claim. It’s funny watching Tae’s crafted persona crack at times you least expect. Standing from your seat, you pat his arm a few times to try and calm him while Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically, wings fluttering slightly.

“Yes, I’m sure it was hard for the sea creature to not be able to breath… oh wait…” They start bickering back and forth and you take the time to text Jungkook, telling him that you’ll actually be meeting him today to discuss some pressing matters. He gets back to you almost instantly, agreeing to meet up with you at the castles garden in your usual spot and sending some ungodly picture he got of Namjoon as confirmation.

“C’mon, lets go Joonie.” Grabbing his hand, you start to power walk out, trying your best to evade the madness that’s about to occur as your advisor trails after. Your guardians’ banter has become legendry over the years and there’s no way you’re going to try and come between it. Perhaps it’ll keep them busy enough to not notice you running. Slinking out the door, you almost make it out before there’s a confident call of your name. It seems you’ll never get any alone time with Jungkook… Sneaking off is seeming like a better and better idea every minute.

“Oh no you don’t petal. We’re coming with you this time; we’d like to pay our sweet little Kookie a visit.”

[velkynkarma]

Big List of FMA Parental Roy Mustang Fic Recs

Recently a family member of mine has been enjoying Fullmetal Alchemist for the first time. I’ve been revisiting it too for fun. While I was at it, I decided to poke through the fandom, revisit old fic favorites, and see if there were any good new ones. 

Turns out: there are!

I was always a big fan of Roy Mustang, and especially fics where he acts as a surrogate parental figure for Ed and Al, accidentally or intentionally. It was hard to find good ones though, so I thought I’d throw together a list of fic recs. 

Everything here is platonic, and does not focus on romantic relationships. Fics can be from the 2003 anime, Brotherhood, or the manga. 

To the Night Sky by Ranowa 

Summary: They tell him he lost his mind. He doesn't remember anything else, so he believes them. But if that's the case, then why does he sometimes feel like he doesn't belong here... and neither does that little, annoying, blond kid named Ed? 

Comments: In the author’s words, ‘not a traditional amnesia fic,’ and it sure isn’t. Long, eventful, has a ton of hurt/comfort but also a great background plot that ends up becoming more important the farther you go. This author also has a few other great FMA fics that are worth checking out, but this one stuck out to me the most. 

War Heroes by Akarii

Summary: Drawn by rumors of a Philosopher's Stone, Edward travels to North City along with Roy and the soldiers of Eastern Command who plan to compete in the North vs. East Training Exercises. However, Ed and Roy find their lives at risk when they get captured by a rebellion group who aim for the end of all State Alchemists and the entire Amestrian government.

Comments: Great adventure fic with some good hurt/comfort, but also plenty of Roy and Ed both kicking ass and taking names. This author also has some other FMA fics that are definitely worth checking out as well, but this was again the stand-out for me. 

Number Twenty Eight by Sevlow

Summary: As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days.

Comments: An oldie but still a goodie. Ed goes missing, and when he’s found again, he’s a Nina-esque dog chimera in bad shape. With Al on the other side of the country chasing down another lead on his missing brother, it’s up to Roy to try and fix Ed, and take care of him in the interim. Chimera!fic was a dime a dozen back in the days of the 2003 anime fandom, but this was one of the ones that delivered on the premise. Years later, it still holds up and remains a personal favorite, with plenty of hurt/comfort and dark humor moments. Sevlow has a lot of other Roy-centric fics that are equally good, though not necessarily parental!Roy.

Warning: Parts of this fic do get super dark, with references to suicide, gore, and implied sexual abuse during Ed’s missing months. 

Bookwrm389: This author had some of my favorite FMA fics back in the day. Imagine my shock when I discovered their FF.net account has been completely deleted within the past year. Thankfully, they only orphaned their stories on AO3, so they’re still available. Since it is an orphaned account now, I can’t link to it for people to browse at their leisure, so here’s individual links to all my favorites:

Gold from Lead ~ There were whispers. There was absolutely no way to stop them. Ed would rip out his spleen if he knew what all those people were insinuating about the two of them.

Comments: Ed gets kidnapped by insurgents to be used as ransom against his father. The problem? Thanks to the rumor mill, everyone thinks his father is Colonel Roy Mustang. 

Your Son ~ "I'm not your father. It's not fair that you can affect me this much." A military function becomes a nightmare when Ed accidentally takes a poisoned drink meant for Roy.

Comments: Exactly what it says on the tin. Somebody tries to assassinate Roy, and Ed gets caught in the crossfire. Excellent hurt-comfort. Also features Maes Hughes being awesome, and Roy having an existential oh my god am I a dad????? moment. 

Tempest ~ Ed is adamant that he doesn't need a father. And it's only when he's about to lose the closest thing he has to one that he understands how very wrong he is.

Comments: Has a solid dose of both action-adventure and hurt/comfort and found family moments. It’s the full package. 

Shadow of a Doubt ~ It was meant to be a simple inspection, but a disturbing dream makes Ed uneasy and fearful. His anxiety intensifies when the mission takes a dangerous turn, putting his and Mustang's lives at risk. Can he hold it together long enough to save them both?

Comments: Another nice, long fic with a good combination of action, hurt/comfort, and family moments. One of my favorites.

Likeness ~ One morning mere hours before an inspection, Roy is amazed to receive absolute proof that his young subordinate is growing up.

Comments: A surprisingly adorable fic in which Roy ends up being the one to teach Ed how to shave. 

Bonus fics that aren’t specifically parental Roy but do still have some hilarious Roy and Ed interaction: 

Military Courtesy ~ Ed learns how to do a proper military salute and promptly drives the Colonel absolutely insane (or not)

Who’s the Alchemist? ~ A Who’s on First parody that goes exactly like how you’d expect but still had me cracking up

Name Calling by Lost_And_Longing

Summary: From the start, Roy Mustang had always believed in Edward Elric. Even after he'd learned the horrific story of their attempt at human transmutation, Mustang had just looked at Ed and offered him a chance. He'd come when Ed was despondent, weak, and helpless...and offered him a way out. Maybe that was why, out of all the men Ed knew, Roy was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.

Comments: A 5+1 based on all the different names and titles Ed uses for Roy. Has a nice dollop of humor, hurt/comfort, and parental moments. 

Of Hospitals and Health by ReminiscentRevelry

Summary: Al is still recovering after the Promised Day, so Colonel Mustang pays him a visit.

Comments: Post-series (although not by much). A nice fic where Al actually gets a little moment with Mustang. Most parental Roy fics are with Ed, so this was a nice change of pace as well as as sweet little fic in which Roy shows he cares about both of the Elrics, even if only one is technically his subordinate.

Twelve Cups of Coffee by BeyondtheClouds777

Summary: Roy finds a sleep-deprived Edward in his office.

Comments: Just a cute little one shot in which a freshly appointed State Alchemist Edward Elric overworks himself trying to find the solutions to his and Al’s problem, and Roy makes sure he knows not to push himself too hard.

Point of Exhaustion by Took-Baggins

Summary: Roy never thought he'd be the one to be there when Edward finally pushed himself too far, but when the Fullmetal Alchemist suddenly collapses there's no one else to hold him down until he can stand again.

Comments: Another fic in which Teenagers Are Just Bad At Knowing How To Take Care Of Themselves, so the adults step in to make sure they do. Ed’s not eating or sleeping properly when he’s so obsessed with getting Al’s body back and makes himself sick. Features both a parental Roy and a parental Hawkeye, because both of them are fed up with the smallest youngest member of their team not properly taking care of himself and are not gonna let that stand. 

When the Rain Falls by Marcellebelle

Summary: Colonel Roy Mustang has two problems: Edward and Alphonse Elric.

Comments: Still a WIP, but the first two chapters are definitely promising. A sickly Ed calls Roy asking for help when his brother is kidnapped, and now Roy has to find one and make sure the other is taken care of. Really looking forward to seeing where this one goes.

As always, if you take the time to check any of these out, try to leave a comment or kudos for the writers and their hard work!

[generaloftheskeletonwar]

For Turn of the seasons gift exchange! @wyntremalfoy ! There will be another chapter to this! I hope you enjoy! ----------- Once upon a time, behind seven lands and seas, there was the city of New York. In the city of New York, there was a street. On the street, there were many houses and many stores. But we will only be talking about two of them. One of the stores belonged to an older, educated man called George, who had too much money and did not know what to do with it. He was older, intelligent, educated. He’d seen the world, he’d served his country, he’d studied in university more than once. But many who knew him would not expect to find him in a place such as this. You see, the man’s shop was a flower store. Not an ordinary one, of course, as the man himself was extraordinary, but still, you wouldn’t expect to find a general in such a place. But he was happy with his store. It sold the most beautiful flowers you’ll ever see, some that you couldn’t find in any other store in the city. He sold them at cheap prices, though-many young women and men had been made happy with a bouquet from his store, full of priceless flowers.

On the other side of the street was a coffee shop belonging to Nathaniel Sackett. The man was awful at keeping a coffee store, but at least, he knew how to be a good boss. The coffee shop’s employees were all college boys, doing their best to earn money while keeping themselves alive in this desperate city. There were the three waitresses-John, Alexander and Lafayette, always giggling. There were the dishwashers, Caleb and Nathaniel. There was Anna, mainly hired for yelling at the others-and finally, behind the counter, was our other hero, Benjamin. No one would exactly mention it to him, but Benjamin was one of the main reasons the coffee shop was so popular. No one cared for the particularly unimpressive coffee, or free hard boiled eggs (Sackett had demanded it), but most of their clients cared for Benjamin. The cheery barista with messy golden hair, bright smile and clumsy hands had everyone coming back and kept the tip jar full.

Recently, there was plenty of confusion in the coffee shop, though. The man over the street had began to visit the coffee shop quite a lot recently, and each time, he brought Benjamin a flower, refusing to explain it. So far, Benjamin had received a pink camelia,red carnation, some daisies, edelweiss and gardenias. The whole shop was convinced that there was something behind the flowers, but no one could figure out what. And the fact that Benjamin had messed up the man’s drink each time by being too distracted by his looks and deep voice did not exactly help.

This had gone on for a week, and now, Nathaniel and Anna were staring at the vase with Ben. “What the hell does he mean with it..” frowned Nathaniel as Alexander walked in.

“I know what he means with it. I went to see Sackett, you know the old man’s obsession with codes. Anyway, victorian flower language. The man’s completely in love with you. Longing, secret love, it’s all right in that very vase.”

Benjamin’s eyes blew wide as Alexander showed them the meaning behind each flower. That afternoon, minutes before the man across the street would come for his usual coffee and flower, Benjamin walked into the flower store, carrying his usual order and slammed it on the counter, surprising the man behind it. “And if I may ask, what is this?” “Your order. Drink it.” The man raised an eyebrow, but took a sip.

“Sickly sweet. I assume that you figured out the flowers and I should be expecting a cheesy pick up line?”

“Not as sweet as you.” answered the boy.

[firerose]

headcannons about each individual member kf the seven as dark?

So I decided to split this answer into seven seperate posts because otherwise it would be too long (I'm having to much fun wit this XD)

I'll post the first one here <3

Ok, here we go <3, Hazel: People expected her to change after Franks death She had lost her boyfriend at fourteen no one expected that to be easy So none said anything when she kneeled over his grave for five whole days and nights Reyna simply brought her food and hot chocolate and mourned with her But if they all could have had a look into Hazel's mind they could have seen the slow death of the sweet kind girl she used to be Thoughts of hate begin to burn inside her She asks herself why Juno who saved Franks stick from burning up as a baby refused to do it a second time. The question makes her storm up to Olympus, her brown eyes hard with anger Her friends are with her, Of course, they want to protect each other now that one of them has fallen Juno awaits them in her usual glory, tall with a cloak around her shoulder and .. jewellery precious metals decorating her arms and neck "Why didn't? Do you save him? Was he just a weapon you did not need anymore?!, hazel shouts out her suspicion and now people, gods and demigods alike begin to worry The queen of Olympus remains silent She sees the hatred in hazels eyes and regrets not answering her grandsons screams for help when he burned in the flames Her silence is Hazel's answer and in her growing rage the necklace on Juno's neck starts chocking the goddess Hazel does not feel remorse, only satisfaction as she hears Junos choking It is Percy's hand on her shoulder that snaps her out and Juno's necklace flys into her open hand "You will never use a demigod like that again I will make sure of that. She says and then with one last glare leaves Things are not the same when shes back at camp Jupiter Everything and everyone annoys her, reminds her of what she has lost They are around her all the time like, Leo who reminds her of Sammy, Jason who made Frank Praetor, Percy who loved Frank like a brother Whenever they talk about Frank she feels the desire to yell at them One time when Jason tries to comfort her once again she snaps "You don't have to do this just because you made Frank Praetor and you feel guilty.", Hazel tells him a bit too harshly and Jason leaves her She feels guilty so she does her best to act as grateful as possible from now on The days are very hard for her That is why she loves the night She hasn't forgotten the power rush she got on Olympus and that is why keeps practising She steals weapons from the night patrols She makes the tunnels under the field of Mars change so that they all lead to dead ends When some of the new Rome's war veterans talk about having seen lost loved ones at night Hazel pretends to not listen She just thanks Jason in her thoughts for telling her so much about the ones that fell in the titan war Hazel disappears two weeks after Frank's death The remaining five of the seven are devastated They immediately go searching for her but even after five months there is no sign of her Other demigods start whispering Even Thalia who visits Reyna often is part of those whispers She doesn't know hazel and Frank well and yet what she has heard reminds her so much of the story of a friend she had once lost He had been left alone with his fate with his insane mother just like Hazel Thalia fears that now that Hazel has lost a loved one she will seek revenge just like Luke once did. Nico and Percy are Hazel's greatest defenders They deny every rumour and says that Hazel just needs time to calm down it's the only thing that keeps them from drowning in their guilt Hazell has gone to her old home in Alaska Arion took her there It hurts to be back but here she is saved from the gods who used her and her loved ones She's so sick of being their pawn The years pass and all alone in this cold country Hazel's heart turns to ice A few old men yell insult her with racist phrases She controls the metal ankers on their ships to impale them She hears screams from her neighbour's house at night and so she breaks the metal lock to get in The man who is beating his wife only has a second to look at her before her senses reach metal and they find it......in his

blood She concentrates hand stretched out and the man chokes to death She leaves without a word There is no remorse in her, if the gods let her sweet gentle boyfriend die why isn't she allowed to kill a few bad peopöe One day she decides to return as thoughts about her past cloud her mind Someone has to show the gods that they can't treat their children like this She returns after ten years but does not show herself to her friends Maybe because she worries that they notice how much she has changed Instead, she decides to try to control the labyrinth just like Pasiphae once did The mist helps her to create new tunnels that lead wherever she wants them to go One day they lead to new Rome She just wants to look at how everyone is doing but when she sneaks near the city hidden in her magic she sees something that makes her furious Her friends have moved on She sees them celebrating with other Romans and greeks They celebrate Gea‘s defeat like it wasn‘t just a terrible unnecessary war they had to suffer through She hates that they enjoy their demigod lives They should have told the gods that they want to live normally away from both camps that endanger their lives Unfortunately, that makes her think of Frank and how he has ripped away from his life, his home country just to serve the gods Hazel feels her rage burning like an active Volcano close to erupting She walks up the hill over new Rome and looks down at the glorious city She could bury it without even trying For a moment she thinks about the lives that will cost but then again what else could make the gods notice their flaws She reaches for all the metals buried under the city She hesitates for a moment but then she thinks about Frank, his sweet smile and with a scream the earth starts shaking Buildings and temples collapse People get swallowed by big cracks in the earth There are screams horns are blowing Mist is rising and People hear voices whisper that this is god's fault They have to be punished for their mistakes It‘s like a storm of fog being thickest at the hilltop Hazel‘s old friends are filled with dread as they have seen those powers before Leo decides to fly directly into the mist together with Piper and Jason Hazel sees them approaching and a soft smile appears on her lips The mist lightens All demigods gasp Leo yells in despair He already blames himself for Franks death and now he sees that Hazel the girl he once loved has gone mad Her once curly short hair now long falls around her shoulders Her once brown eyes glow sickly golden as if the riches of the earth have taken control over her It drives him insane and so he rips out a hammer from his tool belt and attempts to attack her Hazel feels deeply hurt by this and so she moves her hands Leo is thrown of Festus's toolbelt made of metal turning out to be his curse Hazel smashes him into the ground a hundred feet under him Festus claws impale Jason and Piper before they have time to react Hazel feels a sting in her heart but she oppresses it The gods and their quest would have killed them anyway Percy and Annabeth are still in the falling city trying to get as many people out of there as possible They both try to ignore the corpses falling from the sky Percy‘s mind is still refusing that the girl he sees as a sister would do this He knows that she has to be stopped but how is he supposed to do that? He still loves her like a sister despite the lives she is taking Her real brother steps up instead Hazel can feel his presence behind her It makes her lose focus The citizens of New Rome cry in relief when the metals stop resurfacing Their city is in ruins but at least it has stopped Before Hazel can react skeleton warriors jump out of the earth restrain her by grabbing her arms She is furious about Nicos interference and struggles to escape „Hazel please it‘s not worth it just surrender and we‘ll talk about this.“, Nico says while he walks up in front of her. Hazel‘s heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes and she realizes that she is the reason for it She disappeared She came back and murdered

hundreds She did it for Frank but she suddenly asks herself if Frank would have ever wanted to get justice in this way Would he wanted her to become hateful and obsessed with revenge just for him? As she looks into Nico‘s eyes regret strikes her „I……..I‘m sorry.“, She whispers with tears in her eyes. Nico smiles sadly happy that his little sister came to her senses He stretches out his hand to gently touch her cheek Thunder rumbles and suddenly a lightning bold explodes the hilltop right where the children of the underworld Jupiter feels nothing as he watches Percy, Reyna and Annabeth falling to their knees, sobbing and holding each other Hazel Levesque is just another demigod for him, a girl that could not get over her boyfriend Percy buries Hazel next to Frank all by himself New Rome is rebuilt with the help of the greeks The time goes by and slowly Frank and Hazel‘s names are forgotten Juno would love if they had never existed in the first place Whenever demigods speak of them they do it with anger and the queen of Olympus fears that one day a rebellion will start It's not often that their names are talked about but when they are people always refer to them as „Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. The couple that died in Storm and fire

[bnha-butterfly]

Chapter 2: Snitch

Chapter warning: manipulation (aka reader using their quirk again); a sprinkle of violence (someone gets a broken nose)

A/N: Finally decided to post chapter too so it isn’t just rotting in my google drive. Gonna crosspost this to AO3 soon! Also might write a torture scene to accompany this chapter as a 2.5 but who knows. 

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The house you had grown to call home was more akin to an estate or compound. The main building itself was a crisp off-white color with midnight blue embellishments. A large gate surrounded the entirety of the property with 2 security points, one to the front and one to the back. Bakugou couldn't help but to gawk at the lavish looking building. It made the living situations back in the city seem like living on the street. The car pulled past the security gate and up the front of the house.

You stepped out of the car with Bakugou behind you and ascended the steps. Waiting in the foyer of the house was Sero, one of the few young men in the family who managed to ascend the ranks rather quickly. Right until he had been taken under your wing as your right hand. He greeted you with a smile and a quick kiss to the cheek before noticing the blonde behind you.

“Lemme guess. The old geezer saddled you with another bodyguard? You’d think by now he’d get the message.” He said with a soft chuckle as he sized up Bakugou. Sero was at least a head taller than him, although what Bakugou lacked in height he made up in muscle.That much was evident with the way the black button up shirt clung to his form. But, even with that Bakugou could tell Sero was not someone to be taken lightly. 

“You know as well as I do that the old man would rather chop off his finger then leave me without a babysitter.” You said with a roll of your eyes. “This is Bakugou. Bakugou, this is Sero. Don't let that dumb lazy grin and his lanky limbs fool you, he’s more trouble than he looks.” You said playfully shoving Sero.

Bakugou grunted in response and shoved his hands in his pockets. You snickered and made your way down the hall towards one of the smaller meeting rooms in the house. Bakugou couldn’t help but be enraptured in the way you walked as if you owned the world. Head held high with a grin that dripped confidence. 

The man that stood in front of you chewed worriedly at his lip and did everything in his power to . He was so unbelievably scared that you could practically smell it, and he had every reason to be. He had just been quite literally dragged into a meeting with the boss's child for no apparent reason. A sickly sweet smile on your face as you sliced through the tension in the room. 

“Tell me, do you know why you're here?” Your voice somehow managed to be just the right mix of delicate and serious. The man in front of you shook his head no almost enthusiastically. 

“You're a grown man, not a child. Use your words like the man you supposedly are.” Sero chided coldly. 

“N-no. no, I don’t know why I’m here” the man managed to stutter out. He seemed more intimidated by Sero then he was of you. His first big mistake. 

“Actually. I think you do have some idea as to why you're here. Yosetsu Awase. Aged 24. You work with Hizashi in cleanup right? You used to work with Yagi before that though. Ever figured out why you were switched?”  

“No. Just told me I’d be switched over to a different part of the family. When your superior tells you something you don’t really argue or press for answers. You just do what you’re supposed to. He says jump and I say how high” 

“Smart man.” Sero said, a look of disinterest on his face. He never seemed to enjoy the more peaceful parts of interrogations. 

“Then let me educate you. Yagi had a feeling you might be running your mouth to someone. So we put you with Hizashi so he could feed you wrong information.” 

The look on the man's face dropped. How could you of all people know? How did you find out? Well that didn’t matter now did it. What mattered now was the fact that he probably wasn’t going to make it out of this room alive. The look of complete and utter fear that took over his expression scratched some deep and sadistic part of your soul. Sometimes you really did love this job. 

“You see at first we weren't so sure. I mean. You’ve been with us for a year so I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.”

You approached him slow and steady. The room in complete quiet except for your footsteps. You watched him intensely. Your gaze hungry and predatory, then he did what any smart man would do. He attempted to make it to the door. But it would seem that he’d forgot just who he had worked for. He didn’t get more than a few feet before Sero had his tape wrapped around his ankle. He tripped and landed face first and you swore you heard the crunch of a broken nose. Sero tugged him back in your direction as the man attempted to scramble away. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Just- just- the money was good and all I had to do was feed them some info. It was nothing big, just, .. just things I had heard around the base.” He stammered and stutterd at his futile attempts to reason with you. Nails attempting to dig into the tile floor to keep distance between you. Sero gave a hefty tug and the man ended up at your feet. You nudged him over onto his back with your foot and looked down at him. Something sick and sadistic. You placed your foot on his chest and shifted your weight onto it. Awase let out a pained breath as he looked up at you. 

“You know, I’ve never been very fond of pigs.” You said gradually applying more and more pressure to his chest. His eyes bugged out big and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the sight. 

“But little piggy before you meet your maker. Why don't you do what pigs do best and squeal for me. Tell me the truth, who were you talking to and what did you tell them.” You said the last part through gritted teeth. Voice dripping venom. 

Bakugo, who had been watching the entire scene unfold from next to your chair, caught a glimpse as your eyes glowed the same way they had in the car when you used your quirk on him. He suppressed a shiver down his spine. “So this is what the boss's kid is like.” 

You watched as Awase’s eyes clouded over and moved your foot off his chest. He took a gasping breath and then stared at you blankly. In this state he wasn’t going to do anything but speak. His voice left his lips with a monotonous drawl. 

“House of diamonds. I was talking to one of the mercenaries they keep on payroll. It was good and easy money. They just wanted some info, asked me what we had in the works and if our territory was still being heavily regulated. Something about wanting to cripple the family from the inside. Wanted to know if there was anything heavy planned to be moved sometime soon.”

“Who was the informant you were talking to, and when are you supposed to meet them next.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Denki Kaminari. That's who it was. Next meeting is supposed to be in 2 days. At this hole in the wall lounge on neutral territory called the dealer's hand. They have a code you gotta tell the bartender. It’s the only way they’ll lead you to the meeting room. No weapons allowed through the door and they keep quirk nullifiers in the walls .”

“I think I’ve heard enough for now.” You said letting your quirk lose hold on the poor soul in front of you. The haze faded from his eyes.  “Sero take him to Midnight and get that code out of him. I give the two of you free rein on what to do. Just make sure you have Hisashi cleanup whatever mess the two of you make.”

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