#he's not fat in the later games either :((((((

[get-back-homeward]

Life With The Lennons, Exclusive by Ray Coleman, April 1965 [x]

[lea-andres]

*coughs forever in 'I wish Frogwares made Mycroft fat'*

[inuiiwonderland]

You like him a lot but later realize that he doesn’t like you in that way. You then decided to give up on your feelings for him and move on. And move on you did. You fell in love with somebody else and he later fell in love with you, but it was already to late.

A/n: This is a request for @mwankami! I’m so sorry for this being late but here you go! I hope you like it🙃 (I’m sorry if the characters seem ooc😞 I haven’t played twst in a fat minute) also I didn’t know if you wanted reader to be female or male so I just made it gn! Anyways I hope you still like it!

-

Floyd leech

You could only stare longingly at him as he messed around with his teammates.

He looks so beautiful

You were so busy staring at him that you didn’t hear your friend calling your name from beside you until he pinched your arm.

“Ow! What the hell ace!”

“Finally! I was calling your name so many times now! What were you staring at anyways?” You look directly back at floyd and that was enough to answer his question. Ace groans.

“Ugh don’t tell me you were looking at Floyd again”

“I was not” You lied. Causing ace to roll his eyes.

“You definitely were” You just ignored him and grabbed your bag from off the floor as you stood up.

“Hey where are you going? Practice isn’t over for a few more minutes!”

“I’m going back to my dorm. I have a presentation for Mr. crewel class and I want to get it done with early”

“Ughh fine. But text me once you're done!” You waved him off and walked away. But not before taking one last look at Floyd before exiting out the gym.

-

Your friends always question you about your “small” crush on the unhinged tall eel boy. Always saying how can you like someone like Floyd leech? The scary second year who likes to mess and bother anyone and the Floyd leech with unpredictable mood swings.

But you never really cared about their opinions on Floyd.

You find Floyd to be very beautiful.

His fair skin and tall height really caught your interest. But what captured your attention the most were his eyes. The pretty heterochromia eyes that he has really puts you in a trance and you could stare at them for hours.

Floyd leech has you deeply head over heels for him

But the thing is…Floyd doesn’t seem to like you in that kind of way.

He likes you as a friend yes but as a crush no. That’s the only thing that’s stopping you from telling him your feelings.

You sigh as you make your way back to your dorm. Maybe you should just give up on floyd. You already dropped so many obvious hints about your feelings for him but he is either oblivious or doesn’t feel the same and is ignoring your obvious hints.

“Oh floyd…what are you doing to me”

-

4 months later

Today is night raven college basketball team's big game against royal sword academy.

Cheers could be heard in the gym as everyone cheered for the night raven basketball team. You remember ace excitedly telling you about their big game a few weeks ago and that you should definitely come instead of being locked away in your dorm like always.

And of course you came. You didn’t want to disappoint ace by not showing up to his basketball game.

“C’mon you got this ace!” You and your friends cheered. Ace looks up at you guys and smiles before passing the ball to one of his teammates.

As the game continued, You couldn’t help but stare at one specific player.

His long brown hair tied up in a bun and the total concentration looked on his face as the game grew more intense.

You practically have heart in your eyes.

You all cheered loudly as he managed to shoot a score which resulted in night raven winning against RSA. You cheered loudly and felt your heart skip a beat as jamil looked at you and winked.

You ran down the bleachers and congratulated Ace before walking up to Jamil and congratulating him on the win.

“You did amazing out there!”

“Thank you y/n” He smiles. You two began to talk, unaware of the pair of eyes staring both of you down.

He frowns as he watches how nervous and giddily you were around jamil.

“What’s with that frown dear brother? You just won against the royal sword academy basketball team. You should be smiling” Jade teased. He was fully aware of what caused his brother's mood to instantly change.

“I’m going back to the dorm” Floyd tells his brother before exiting out the gym doors.

Floyd leech is in love with you. But sadly, he fell in love when you started moving on.

Now he’s the one who’s head over heels

And it’s already too late

-

Jade leech

“Are you listening y/n?” You blinked a couple times before mentally cursing yourself once you notice that you have completely spaced out.

Jade beautiful mismatched eyes stared at you as you hurriedly looked away while mumbling something underneath your breath. Already feeling shy and embarrassed.

“ ‘m sorry jade. I didn’t mean to space out” Jade smiles.

“Don’t worry y/n. Are you sure you're alright though? We can study another time if you’re not feeling well”

“Oh no! I was just thinking about something! Let’s continue studying”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent sure! Don’t worry”

The two of you continue to study for the next hour. Every so often you would sneak glances at jade and watch as he reads through some notes while asking if you understand the subject.

You tried your best to concentrate, you really did! But his smooth, calm voice and beautiful heterochromia eyes were easily distracting you from paying attention.

The study session between the two of you soon came to an end and you had to stop yourself from asking him to stay for at least a few more minutes.

“I’m looking forward to our next study session. And good luck on tomorrow’s test” He says as he packs up his things. The two of you bid each other goodbye and you watched as he walked further and further away from your dorm. Once he was gone, you walked quietly back to your room as Floyd words ran through your head.

“Sorry shrimpy, but it seems like jade doesn’t like you in that way”

“Ah really?”

“He said he only sees you as a friend. Aw man and I was starting to get excited to have you as my in law! Stupid jade” You giggled at your friend. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your heart knowing that jade doesn’t like you back.

-

7 months later

You walk down the empty halls of night raven. It was lunchtime so everyone was in the cafeteria. You make your way outside with two trays and smile once you spot a certain someone.

He was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. You could tell that he was asleep.

“Silver” You call out. You gently lay down both of the food trays before shaking silver awake. He slowly opens his eyes and your heart skips a beat once his beautiful violet irises meet yours.

“I brought you your lunch” You say as you sit comfortably beside him. You hand him his tray and he smiles at you.

“Thank you y/n”

“No problem. So, how’s training going so far?”

The two of you chatted for the rest of lunch time. Talking about how your day has been so far and other stuff. The two of you were so engrossed by the conversation that you two didn’t hear someone calling out your name from the distance.

Jade watches as you laugh at whatever silver said as his cheeks grow pink and he’s looking at you so lovingly.

“Man seems like jellyfish got to them before you” Floyd says behind him. Jade just watches as you feed silver some of your food. He swears he could see the hearts in your eyes as you feed silver.

He forces a smile. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his heart.

“They are happy. That’s all that matters”

And he walks away with a broken heart.

-

[guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy]

three coffees please - verstappen / ricciardo

(gif not mine @maxgovroom)

pairing: max x fem driver!reader x daniel

summary: Max, Daniel, and you. Inseparable. Their bond from childhood rivals to best friends to lovers.

themes/warnings: alcohol, no smut, domestic, fluff, some angst, hint of daniel being possessive, daniel's tattoos, no use of y/n THIS IS FICTION

wc: 1.8k

a/n: craving maxiel x reader that isn't straight up smut so enjoy this completely self indulgent fic. also trying to get back into writing so if you have request pls put them through <3

read on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/59444749

You and Max grew up racing together in karting. Your families weren’t friends but you two gravitated towards each other after a few years of hard racing and a fair share of head butting. Your shared love of cats really began your relationship. 

You were usually the only girl at the track so you were subject to endless teasing from the other boys about many things, including your close friendship with Max. It didn’t really matter though, you or Max ran them off track eventually and the comments and snide remarks stopped. 

Your relationship with Max never grew from more than a friendship, except for that one time when you were thirteen and you shared each other’s first kiss behind a building behind a building before a race, for good luck of course. You and Max ended up sharing a 1-2. 

Max ended up joining the Red Bull Driver Academy whilst you joined the Mercedes Driver Academy. The rival academies were of no concern to either of you and had long ago figured out how to manage your relationship on and off track. 

Max ended up making his Formula 1 debut a year earlier than you. This was when he properly made Daniel’s acquaintance. 

Daniel. Charming. Loud. Handsome. Cheerful. The Australian had the motorsport world wrapped around his tattooed fingers, including Max. Many of your phone calls with Max that year involved a funny anecdote about Daniel’s antics that week. 

You joined the grid a year later, driving for Williams and wanting to prove yourself for the Mercedes seat. No one was more excited than Max, eager to have his childhood best friend and now F1 best friend in the same place for twenty something weekends a year. 

You finally met Daniel that year. He was everything you thought and more. His kindness and genuine nature surprised you, having pulled you aside for coffee and a quick chat during pre-season testing. After all, it wasn’t long ago that he was a young, nervous rookie. 

You were sucked into the shiny whirlpool of Daniel Ricciardo soon after. Hangouts with Max in his Monaco apartment on off weeks turned into the three of you spending hours on each other’s living room floors. On the days where distance separated the three of you, Facetime calls and gaming sessions were the norm. 

You and Daniel started seeing each other three years into your F1 career. At this point, you had lost the last of your baby fat and had grown into a beautiful young woman. Daniel had always thought you were beautiful, but recently, you had become something otherworldly. 

It started after someone’s birthday celebration in some Monaco nightclub. You and Daniel danced together as you always had, but Daniel’s grip on your hips was tighter and the way he leaned down on your neck was closer than he had ever been. He eyed off other men, daring them to try and take a piece, knowing he’d come out on top. 

Max was oblivious to the entire situation, too blind drunk to notice the lingering touches as you and Daniel helped him into bed at the end of the night.

A light hand on your hip, a longing glance in the dim light of the kitchen ended with you in the guest room, wrapped in Daniel’s arms as he worshiped you until the early hours of the morning. 

Daniel greeted you with a cup of coffee, an old Red Bull shirt he kept at Max’s, and a joke that you looked good in the red and dark blue. 

You two started up a breakfast in the kitchen, bringing out a hungover and bleary eyed Max from his room. Max didn’t catch the look shared between yourself and Daniel, a silent agreement to not tell Max about the night before. Max ignored the Red Bull shirt with the giant 3 on the back, chalking it up to not wanting to wear alcohol ridden clothes, rather than a sign of Daniel’s claim on you. 

You and Daniel continued seeing each other for the next year. Well, “seeing” each other in loose terms. You kept it casual, aware of the challenges of romance as an F1 driver, more so between two drivers and even more so when you’re the first female F1 driver in what felt like forever. Still, for what it’s worth, both of you never saw another person. 

Max began catching on soon enough. A flash of pink fabric behind a closing door of Daniel’s room, much too small for one of Daniel’s loud shirts. Fading bruises on your chest, only noticeable up close on yacht days in the summer. Max seeing Daniel going into your room late Saturday night and seeing you two walk into the paddock together the next morning. 

Safe to say, Max was confused. He wasn’t upset that you and Daniel were hanging out without him. It would be more weird if you two weren’t. But the nature of your relationship was confusing to him, enough for him to begin digging. 

Now, Max wasn’t one to snoop, but he’s known you long enough for you not to care. You were in the shower after some shared training which was good enough an opportunity for him. Your password remained the same, but Max scrolled past the games he’d play on your phone to your photo album. Nothing out of the ordinary, some dumb selfies and pictures from the paddock and Monaco.

Two photos caught his eye. The first, a dark room illuminated by the flash from your phone. You were lying against your sheets, hair messy on the pillow behind you. You were smiling, eyes tired, but there was an unmistakable hand with a rose tattoo around your neck - Daniel. The second, less obvious but still recognisable to Max. The morning light was streaming through your window and a man sat on the edge of your bed, his back to the camera. The defining curls were definitely Daniels and the muscles on his back were the same ones Max had been admiring for years. 

Max put the phone back where he found it. He had the confirmation he wanted but it didn’t settle the heavy pit in his stomach. Both you and Daniel were attractive people, there was no denying that. He’d even caught himself looking at you both several times throughout the years. Sometimes he was delusional enough to think the looks were reciprocated, but that would be in his wildest dreams. 

The feeling was no longer confusion. It was a strange myriad of emotions he’d only felt in fleeting moments, quickly shut down by his brain. The dam is open now. A feeling longing for his best friends, the people he loved most and could never define his relationship with. Jealousy, not directed at a single person, but perhaps at both of you in a way Max could not understand yet. Betrayal, for not being told or trusted enough with this information, when Max could tell the both of you anything. 

You could tell something was bothering Max, but you never pushed. He’d come to you when he was ready. Years of knowing Max has taught you enough of his emotional processing. Still, you brought it up to Daniel one night in bed. He assumed it was stress at Red Bull, but you thought otherwise. 

It came to a boil at Daniel’s apartment one night. The three of you organised a casual homemade dinner. You answered the door with dishevelled hair, blaming it on training earlier in the day but if anything, it was from certain activities prior to Max’s arrival. 

All three of you had a few drinks that night. Max was sober enough to know what was happening but had enough alcohol to count as liquid courage. 

Max sat on a beanbag on the floor, eyeing you and Daniel on the couch. You sat on the end with a glass of wine, Daniel right next to you, thighs touching yours despite the spacious couch. 

I know you two have been hooking up. 

Shock. Panic. Backs against a corner. Words stuck in a clogged throat. 

Apologies streamed out, from you and Daniel. Your hand ended up in Max’s hair, your other holding his hand. Daniel on Max’s other side, holding his hand and arm. Tears came from all three of you. 

Max sat there, almost numb and resigned. He was hurt, but he also hated seeing you and Daniel like this. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the heightened emotions or the unholy combination of both. 

Consequences be damned. The three of you will emerge from the aftermath later, like always. Max just needed his people. 

Max leaned in to you and cut you off mid sentence with a hard kiss. Another round of shock, then confusion from which emerged a feeling of familiarity. These were the same lips that touched yours all those years ago. This was Max, who always had your back. Your Maxie. You kissed him back and the grip he had on your hand tightened. 

Max pulled away, breathless and eyes wide. But breathing was you, and breathing was Daniel so he pulled Daniel in by the curls on the back of his head. Daniel pressed in as much as he could because this was Max. His Max, and when he had no one, he always had Max. 

They had each other that night, making up for emotions and lost time, where nothing else mattered but the three of you. 

Max lay in between you and Daniel in the sobering dawn light. You leaned on your forearm, running your fingers through Max’s hair. Daniel lay half asleep, cuddled into Max’s side. 

I need you. Both. 

Max spoke those words into the ceiling. A crossroads, that would forever change the trajectory of your lives. 

Daniel blinked sleepily at you. Another silent communication, that perhaps Max was the missing piece between the both of you; the catalyst for the next step. 

We’ll have you.

Always. 

You layed back down, tucking yourself into Max’s side. Daniel tightened his grip around Max’s waist and drifted off into sleep. 

Life became a little simpler after. You all kept your own apartments, but every night was a sleepover with your best friends. Things eventually started migrating between places; toothbrushes in mugs, each other’s hobbies and crafts and everyone’s favourite snacks having a permanent stash in each other’s apartments. 

Daniel liked to begin mornings by bringing in coffee for the three of you. He blamed the Italian in him when Max protested one early morning and tried to bury himself further into the sheets and you. 

He was an extrovert and a lover at heart, so it wasn’t a surprise when Daniel’s personal team found out about the relationship first. The public would never know, they were long ago used to seeing the three of you out and about, even when the catch ups turned into dinner dates. 

Daniel was a giver, proven to him on the night Max won his first championship. A quiet moment on the balcony of his hotel room, watching you and Max slow dance, the lights of the city reflecting on your slinky black dress. He realised he would give anything for you and Max. 

[zweiginator]

need to be long term with frat art… like maybe it’s the most brutal situationship known to man maybe y’all are actually in secure love but either way you definitely act like you’re in love and you’re fucking like you are and you’re always together bc neither of you can function without the other. it’s obsessive

need it to be one of those heart-wrenching loves that always feels unrequited—at least by one party. you’re both so young and immature and scared of commitment and as soon as one of you gets fed up with the other and moves on, maybe finds someone else to hang out with and date—the other gets obsessive and it’s always a push and pull, cat and mouse chase. always a game, and never an easy one.

even the beginning of your situationship with him was messy; art had been going on dates with a girl in the sorority paired with his frat. she was cute and sweet but art was drunk one friday at a party and there you were sucking a lime and downing bitter tequila shots. your face winced, and excess alcohol dripped down the valley of your tits and art was just drawn to you. he slurred in your ear about how fucking hot you looked and how he believed in love at first sight now and the alcohol in your system had made a bee-line to your libido. you were horny and art had heart-eyes and you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard against the wall. and the girl he promised would be his girlfriend within the next month watched with tears in her eyes.

every part of your relationship with art was fueled by passion, lust, instant gratification. it was easy to stop by art’s apartment and ride him in a frenzy to blow off steam before a big test. and art, needing to rid himself of excess energy after a big tennis match could text you that he was coming over, fuck you from behind and leave without overflowing expectations or an excess of emotions. just a peck on the cheek and a see ya later would suffice.

and it did suffice, until you broke things off with him one saturday morning in early spring. it was still cold outside, and art saw his breath as he tried to steady his breathing. he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. like his fucking chest was constricting as you explained to him that you met somebody. that you were going to be with him and you couldn’t talk to him anymore.

“sorry artie.” you said. you rubbed his shoulder and gave him a hug and you swore you heard a sniffle but art swallowed the lump in his throat and left. why would you say sorry?

you did date that guy for a few months. and art even found a girl to go out with for awhile. she was sweet, and looked a tad like you.

but it just didn’t feel right. it was secure and happy. safe, healthy, committed. but it didn’t fuel a fire. it didn’t leave scratches on art’s back and burning handprints on the fat of your ass. it didn’t excite either of you. and you both bit your cheeks and feigned smiles. pushed the food around your plates for a few months. and then tennis season was in full swing and you went to a match with your boyfriend.

art looked up at the two of you from the court. he stopped practicing, stopped serving, stopped functioning. he just stared and bit his lip so hard it turned white and simultaneously drew blood. how fucking could you.

because there his own girlfriend was, swinging her legs in the front row. confused about what had just shifted the mood.

you pretended to get sick and art feigned a fever when he should’ve been celebrating his win. all excuses to get away from your significant others—well, that wasn’t a good term for them.

but art found himself in your driveway and he didn’t even have to knock on the door before you were outside on the porch. and then you were in his arms, backed against the front door. there wasn’t time to go inside. there was never enough time. art kissed you like it would be his last chance to—because maybe it would be. and you returned the sentiment. you both felt horrible. unfaithful and disgusting and selfish. but that wasn’t enough to make either of you stop because neither of you had felt that forest fire in your stomachs when you kissed your respective partners. but here it was, blazing up your throats as you yanked art impossibly closer. you saw your boyfriend’s car pull up next to art’s. you saw his silhouette in your peripheral vision, and art felt his phone vibrating with a call from his girlfriend. but neither of you stopped.

you both got dumped that night. the same night that art fucked you like he loved you. he even said he did.

but next week you saw him on a coffee date with a girl on the track team and you gave him a tight smile. of course that would’ve been too easy. you needed to stop being so naive.

[cherrytea556]

Lore Rekindled; The Lore Olympus that should have been

To be honest, I checked out the rekindled version before the original one and now having reading the original as well, it's extremely odd. Y'know goodbye volcanic high where the original was a mess but a group of 4chaners made a parody game which turned out to be of better quality than the original? This is like that but replace 4chan with tumblr users, mainly @genericpuff whose series is pinned in their tumblr blog where you can check all of the episodes, especially updated ones. In this post, I will be praising this series of how it fixes the problems of the original

The Pacing

One thing I notice about lore olympus and lore rekindled is the pacing. Not just the flow of the story but where it chooses to focus on. Now in lore olympus, the pacing is kinda a mess and its mainly to do with what it focuses on. An example is the magazine plotpoint; in the original, its basically kinda there in between doses to focus on other stuff like persephone and hades together, persephone's sa (i'll get to that later), eros story, zeus and hera etc...The flow generally isnt that bad per say (except for persephone's sa cuz that was way too quick) but for a story meant to be a romance between hades and persephone, you'd think it idk, it would focus on persephone and hades specifically, not eros which is another example of; its flashbacks. Eros specifically has such a dragged out flashback in episode 12 which we didnt need or at least with that much exposition when it should've naturally expand in the story and that's what rekindled does. The magazine plotline has turned into the first conflict of persephone and hades as we see how it affects their lives and relationships. This works for its pacing better because it doesn't give you too much stuff to jumble with, making the narrative more concise and easier to understand where the story is going. And with the flashbacks, rekindled cuts out the fat in the flashbacks from the original to a perfect balance where it gives exposition of the characters while also leaving mystery for the audience to be intrigued, my favourite one would have to be this (though it more of a nightmare than a flashback specifically speaking);

It's of persephone in a greenhouse her mother placed her in with this red eye thing following her from outside the greenhouse. I have no idea of this lurker if its her metaphorical rage or a danger in her life but either way, i am intrigued by its presentation.

The Characters

When reading lore rekindled and lore olympus, the characters are definetly an odd experience. For lore olympus, the characters arent exactly uh....great per say. I think the main reason for this is how their ultilised, with characters like eros, hera, hectate etc being there to mostly be a matchmaker for hades and persephone even if it was initially seen as wrong like with hera and hectate, be antagonistic as a way to have conflict between hades and persephone like minthe, demeter and recently leuce even if ones had reasons too like minthe with hades emotionally cheating on her and demeter because lets be honest, she had a point. Then there's hades and persephone, whoo boy where to start with them.

Hades starts off as a creep eyeing at persephone during a party, specifically at her body and still lusts persephone even being aware that shes 19 and he's 2000 years old. Also is a shitty boss, father AND contributes to slavery with it while being adressed in some way, doesnt change him which isnt good for a character that's meant to be the main protagonists love interest.

Persephone though, I can get the self insert vibes. From favouritism towards the story, being who most of the men in the story are attracted too, portrayed as a 'cinnamon roll' (they actually said that early on in the story, im not kidding) who cant do no wrong. She acts like a teenager rather than a young adult which makes the scenes where shes sexualised just more uncomfortable (and they already unnecessarily were) along with adding that uncomfortability to the romance

But with rekindled, they expanded on the characters much more than they originally were. Persephone for instance has turned from a 'sexy baby' legal teenager to an actual young relatable adult with agency and allows her to screw up (e.g, getting drunk on her own rather than eros drunking her). Her adult attitude makes the romance between her and hades not only more palpable, but also strays away from the infantilisation/uncomfortable sexualisation of her character which is nice to see. Hades also is written well in the series from how it acknowledges his faults while still making him likable. And thats the same for every character really, their personalities are much more fleshed out and nuanced which makes their characters feel real to life, gaining effectiveness for more emotional scenes with them. An interesting thing too is that they even expanded the magazine guy's character from making fake news for profit into feeling guilt over what they done, standing up for persephone which is a pretty nice change.

No Sa Plotline

Not like you cant have sa in your story ever but if you never planned it from the beginning and only did when people tell you that the scene you drew from your comic was sa then....maybe just not do it. Lore olympus does exactly that where while an attempt was made, it goes on to retcon it into making apollo (the guy who sa'd persephone) into a lesser evil like that would made a difference instead of just cutting it out from the very beginning. Lore rekindled thankfully just made apollo into his pilot version, a shitty bf but more likeable and expanded upon (which should have been his portrayal from day 1). His shittiness doesnt come up in the story, more like self absorbness/egotisticalness although with its recent chapter of the magazine guy offering persephone lunch, it might reveal some cracks or at least further down the story it will be revealed to us which futhers how effective rekindled character writing is in how its expansion of characters would give us the feels. That or portray him as not a good match for persephone, either way much better than the original.

Artstyle

Lore olympus has a pretty good artstyle (at least in s1/the early episodes, s3 is just kinda goofy) but lore rekindled has got a good artstyle which is on top, more consistent too. Here's some examples;

Comedy

It's objectively funnier than lore olympus, no question asked

All in all, if you want to read lore olympus, i recommend you to read the lore rekindled one instead as it's better in every way. Give it a read.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Maneater - Part One: Soap

Me and @groguspicklejar were talking about how it would be to a confident and competent part of task force...

Content Warnings - Riding, smut, choking, dub-con, blink and you'll miss it praise kink

Being introduced as the newest member of the task force and they're apprehensive.

You're soft, with nice curves and plush thighs and tummy. You don't look like a person up to being part of an elite task force. In fact, Soap later voices what they're all thinking when away from you. That you look more the part of a little house wife then someone with blood on their hands.

Oh but how wrong they are.

Seeing you in full gear was a game changer, the way the standard balaclava forced them to only focus on your eyes made them realize you're a storm.

A force to be reckoned with.

It only takes you crossing your arms and sending a glare at a mouthy recruit to get them to back off.

You're a team player too. Patting Soap on the back after a mission done well, fist bumping Gaz after a good shot, nodding at Ghost as an acknowledgement and following the captains orders.

But more than just those things make you a team player and Soap was the first to find out. He had got off the craft with a string of curses as he ripped off his gear while he stormed to the locker room.

No one noticed you slip off.

You could hear his curses and mutterings about the mission as you walked down the tile hall.

He was really in his own head because he didn't hear you. Shushing him with a finger to his lips and pushing him to sit down on the bench. Straddling him, your soft thighs on either side of his muscular ones as you tipped his head back and smashed your lips against his.

It was a flurry of clothes being pulled off, you bit down on his bottom lip as you stared into his cold blue eyes and lined yourself up with his cock. Going all the way down without a fight and not waiting for the burning to pass when you rocked your hips. The groan he let out was sinful and he went to bite your neck and breasts.

Wrapping your hand around his throat you pinned his head against the cold metal lockers. "No biting." You snarled as you picked up the pace and looked into his nearly feral eyes. His hands grabbed whatever they could, pinching your nipples or holding your hips to the point bruises would form or rubbing at your clit with his thumb.

You could feel the coil within your stomach growing taut as you bounced on his fat cock. The tip of him nearly reached your cervix, teasing that pinched feeling you get in your stomach.

Your grip tightened on his throat.

Soap looked up at you with wide blue eyes as his iron grip tightened further. "Fuck Bonnie, Ahm gonnae cum. Fuck fuck fuck," more curses left his mouth in a flurry.

You used one hand to control Soap's that had stopped rubbing at your clit. Each time you sank back down on his cock you could hear the squelch of it as your slick coated your own thighs and his.

"Come on, be a good boy and cum," you urged and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as his hips jerked.

His head lolled to the side and his hand on your hip twitched as you searched for your own end. Finally as it came crashing down on you, you sank your teeth into his hot cheek as your cunt spasmed around his cock. Soap gasped and twitched under you, writhing as your own climax triggered another from him.

You didn't wait for him to screw his head back on right. You got up with a burn in your thighs and aching knees. You pulled your clothes back on and fixed your hair. You patted his cheek as he panted and stared up at you. "Finish up Soap, I'm sure you got a debriefing to get to after this," you said and winked at him before you sauntered off with his cum staining your panties.

[juanarc-thethird]

If interested please DM him

Nora: How was your Valentine's Day?

Jaune: Um... Normal.

Nora: You didn't ask a girl out?

Jaune: No...

Nora: Why not?

Jaune: Because no one is interested in me?

Nora: What?! How is that possible?!

Jaune: Trust me, it is possible.

Nora: Not on my watch! *Leaves*

Jaune: Hey! Where are you going?! *Sighs* Whatever, it's not my problem.

The next day....

Jaune: *Reading a book*

*Ting!*

Jaune: Huh? *Checks his phone* An unknown message?

*Ting!* *Ting!* *Ting!*

Jaune: More?

*Ting!Ting!Ting!Ting!Ting!Ting!*

Jaune: What the?

*TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!TING!*

Jaune: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!!

Momentas later

JNPR's Room

Nora: *Playing games on her phone while lying in bed*

Jaune: *Shows up* *Angry* What did you do?!

Nora: Do what?

Jaune: You know very well what I mean. What did you do?!

Nora: I seriously don't know what you're talking about.

Jaune: I'm talking about this!

Jaune shows his phone, still being bombarded by messages from unknown numbers.

Jaune: Why do I have a bunch of strangers asking me on a date?!

Nora: *Excited* Really?! That means that my post worked!

Jaune: *Confuse* What post?

Nora: This one!

She selects something on her phone and shows it to Jaune.

"Do you want a Man that has abs? Do you want a man that can cook? Do you want a man that is literally the dream house husband?! Well look no further.

Jaune Arc, the only son of the Arc Family.

Let's talk about features: - Power: No - Money: No - A car: No - Great confidence: Nope... but he has a humongous dick that makes up for everything else.

Let me tell you a story. One day I entered the bathroom without checking to see if anyone was there using it. And when I did it, he poked my eye. "With what?" you might ask. I think we both already know answer to that.

You can present him to your parents, to your sibling who never stops bothering you that you are single and alone, to your weird creepy uncles, to your gossiping fat aunts, to your racist grandmother who no one dares to tell her to stop saying rude things, because for some reason everyone is afraid of her. And I can assure you that all of them will change their ways when they see what a good boy this man is. God damn it! Everyone will want to protect this golden retriever of a person!

Good boy Approved!!

Things this man is old enough to do: - Vote: Yes - Consent to Sex: Yes - Becoming Huntsmen: HE IS ALREADY A HUNTSMEN!

This man has history. He's seen some shit. He has done "things" for his friends. He has killed for his friends. He will not judge you like other people.

Interesting facts: - He is a good boy on the outside, but he is a beast on the inside~ *Wink* *Wink* - He is an Arc, so he is designed for breeding. - He holds the record for most boxes of cereal consumed in one day!

What more can you ask for?!

Look...

Let's face the facts. He may not be the most beautiful person in the world, but you aren't either (I mean that's why you're still single). So stop lying to yourself and stop lying to your mom about that "guy" you met at the supermarket. (We both know that's a lie). He may be too good for you, but he's really desperate. So send him a message and try your luck.

Jaune Arc 206-XXX-XXXX"

Nora: What do you think? Very cool, right?

Jaune:...

Jaune: Am I a joke to you?

[paladin--strait]

soulmates part 2

luke hughes x reader

part 1 here! series masterlist here!

tw!!: some language, mentions of sex, verbal arguements, use of y/n, reader can be depicted as any body shape/size. this story moves kinda fast, since I want it to only be a couple of parts long.

warning: this is a complete work of fiction. I am no way saying or implying that these people act the way the do in the story. as always, this is really cringey as I'm still figuring out my writing style! I am open to any sort of constructive criticism! thank you for reading and enjoy!

y/n's pov;

the chatter of the lake house game room was loud, just as expected considering the amount of players and their partners that are packed into the smaller room. I was nestled in the corner with a drink tucked in my hand, watching jamie and trevor play a 'friendly' game of pool.

the boys bicker and laugh while they play, joking around with their friends. but the rumble of my hungry stomach is enough to bring me out of my trance of watching the game. I walk to jack, and ask if I can get something to eat, to which he says yes before I make my way to the kitchen.

the kitchen is packed full of yummy foods that can either be cooked and prepared or can just be enjoyed the way they are. I eventually settle on some chips and dip for my small meal, enough to fill me up but enough to leave space for me to eat dinner later.

I soon hear the sound of footsteps traveling down the hall that leads to the kitchen and it catches my attention, pulling me away from my food to see who it is.

its kaitlyn.

and if looks could kill I would be dead right now.

her arms cross against her chest as she stands with purpose. "I don't appreciate you flirting with my boyfriend." she says, slowly. even though her voice is soft, with the tone and the way she says her statement, I know she means business. "I see the way that you look at him and talk to him. he's not interested in you so I hope you can get that through your fat skull quick enough to know not to mess with me." she states, slowly getting louder and closer to me before she laughs and pokes her finger into my forehead.

I stifle back a laugh before I push her finger off of my forehead. oh how I wish she could see that look on her face right now.

her face is red, boiling with anger and jealousy while she breathes huffs of hot and boozy smelling air in my face. I soon can't find the strength to hold back my laugh any longer, and the cackle that escapes my throat is like no other laugh that I've heard leave confines my mouth.

if its even possible, her face turns a deeper red the more I laugh. I can physically see her body twitching and trembling with fury while I'm attempting to calm my laughing fit.

"oh sweetheart, I'm honored that you think I'm fake enough for jack. it seems to be his type considering all the girls he's been with all look like you. plastic."

I'll apologize to jack for that one later.

"listen here you dumb fuck! I could beat the shit out of your fat ass. don't even test me." she yells, not aware of the growing crowd of people behind her, including all of the hughes brothers. "I've been with more guys than you can even think of! and most of them are celebrities. nobody seems to mind that I supposedly look like plastic because I get more dick than a pornstar does anyways! why do you think I'm here? I've hooked up with soccer players, football players, volleyball players, basketball players, and now I'm about to hook up with a hockey player and I will not let you get in my way!" she yells, the grip she has on her brand new iphone getting harder.

"I don't think y/n be the one getting in your way of getting into jack's pants tonight." quinn yells out and kaitlyn freezes, her eyes going wide as she slowly turns to look behind her, seeing that she has attracted everyone in the house. and they all saw her little outburst of jealousy.

"seems the only one stopping you from that is yourself. it looks like you were to busy only thinking about yourself that you can't even pay attention to your surroundings. I bet that you wouldn't even know it if a snake bit you just then." I say with a chuckle. "I also hope that you know that i don't care anything about fucking with jack. I barely know the guy and he's not even my type. but I hope you can think over your life choices in your ride home, bitch."

I barely have time to think over what I'm doing before I 'accidentally' spill a cup of lemonade all over her phone and expensive clothes, causing her to drop it. "oh no...oops!" I say with a smile. her mouth drops open, while she bends down to pick up the phone to see that the screen is completely cracked, sticky from the lemonade, and it won't even turn on. "I guess you can't call an uber. looks like you''ll have to walk home..." I shrug, refilling my cup and looking her while she screams her lungs out at me before running to the door. "make sure you grab your STDs on the way out!" I yell out at her, smiling.

jack came over and thanked me for saving him from in his words, 'such a crazy bitch' and quinn came over to cheer me on for winning my little fight.

"there's the y/n I know!" quinn says, hugging me tight and shaking me.

I laugh and pat him on the shoulder after he pulls away fro. the hug. "thanks for chiming in, quinnifer. I was getting a little worried since I didn't really know what to say." I say with a lighthearted laugh.

we chat a little more about it then decide to let that be in the past and continue to enjoy the rest of our night at the lake house.

people end up leaving to go to their own hotels or air bnb's for bed and the people staying here slowly navigate to their rooms. eventually leaving me and luke in the game room. "wanna go outside and sit on the dock, luke?" I ask with a sigh. it's been awkward between us since we met and I wish that would go stop.

"sure. we can go out on the boat if you want?" he says, and I agree while he walks over the key and coat rack. "you can wear my devils jacket so you don't have to dig through your suitcase to find yours. I usually get it a size or two larger than usual so it's not tight. I don't like tight jackets." he explains while he hands me the jacket. I look at it in my hands and see the devils emblem with his name and number on the chest area. I smile and I feel my face heat up slightly so I look away, trying to hide my blush.

luke and I slip on our jackets as we walk outside onto the dock and closer to the boat. he jumps in and then holds out his hand to help me get in. I thank him and take a seat on one of the built in benches while luke drives the boat out into the lake. "you should come out here with the guys and I sometime. sometimes we bring the jetski's and we just mess around a lot. but other times we just sit and talk. it's a lot of fun." he says, stopping the boat and coming to sit beside me.

"I bet. quinn has already begged me to come out here with you guys tomorrow and I think if I don't come he'll probably kill me." I say with a laugh. "but it sounds like fun so I'll most likely come with you guys." luke laughs along with me and we sit in scilence for a few minutes. just looking around at the stars and the beautifully lit docks from other people's lake houses.

"hey y/n, I'm sorry about earlier. when you came onto the dock to introduce yourself to me? I was really nervous. I'm gonna be honest with you, you're the prettiest girl I've ever met and I was worried that I would fall for you and I was scared about that since I thought you were quinn's girl. he's my brother and if I fell for you while you two were together I don't know what I would do or what quinn would say about it. until he told me that y'all weren't a thing and that he thought we would be perfect together...sorry for being so rude and awkward." luke says, looking up at the stars before looking back down at my wide eyes.

"luke, quinn and I aren't a thing. we never have and never will be. I've always seen quinn as an older brother type of friend. when I met him, I was scared and alone in a club that my friend left me at while she went to hook up with some guy. this man that was way older than me was hitting on me and he wouldn't leave me alone until quinn and brock came up and scared the guy off. he found out I was new to the area and kinda took me under his wing. he's always talked about you and jack so much and I was super excited to meet you guys. he told me not to tell you this when I met you but since it seems he told you the same thing, I guess I'll just say it. but he said that he can see us becoming the perfect couple and that he really wanted for me to meet you so 'he can be right'. those were his words by the way." I explain to luke, watching his eyes go wide. "quinn moved me out of my apartment that I lived in with my ex best friend, moved me into his apartment with him, and got me a job in media with the canucks. he really helped me out and the more time we spent with each other, the more we became best friends. "

luke nods and then asks me some questions about how life was living with quinn and whether if he was a good roommate or not.

"luke. let's get back to what we both said earlier. we both said that quinn told us we would be perfect together, right? I hope you don't think that I just came down here so I could meet you and become your girlfriend and become famous and all that. that wasn't my goal and I hope you don't feel that way because that isn't what I meant for it to seem like." I spit out, rushing my words because I really don't want him to feel that way.

sure, I wanted to meet the person who is my supposed 'soulmate'. but I also wanted to spend time with my best friend and meet all of his friends and family. my fingers twitch and my leg bounces while I wait for his response.

"I didn't think of it that way at all." he responds. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "I just thought you came down here to be with quinn and to meet us. and don't worry about it, I didn't think about you like that at all." he pats my shoulder and laughs.

"okay good." I say with a laugh and look up to look at the stars, "the sky is so clear. it's like you can see every star in the galaxy out here. it's so beautiful"

luke chuckles, "yeah, I agree. the view is beautiful." I turn to look at him while he talks and I realize that he's been looking at me the whole time.

I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks but I pull the jacket tighter around me to keep my body warm. my eyes widen when I feel luke's arms reach around my waist and pull me into his chest.

"we can go back to the house soon. I just want to stay out here with you for a bit longer." he mutters into my hair, and I wrap my arms around his waist too, getting more comfortable.

I hum and close my eyes, the feeling of sleep overtaking me.

-

I wake up to luke saying my name and shaking my shoulders. I sit up and stretch, opening my eyes and its bright, the sun hitting my face.

"y/n, we fell asleep on the boat! we need to get back to the house now before quinn kills me." luke yells, turning the keys and starting the boat, driving back to house while I fall in and out of sleep in the seat.

when we get back, luke gets off of the boat and helps me out.

"luke warren hughes! I can't believe you!" quinn yells out, speed walking towards us, his little posse behind him. luke and I's eyes go wide and we look at each other with fear. "I can't believe you two fell asleep on the boat. I called both of you and your phones went off on the couch. what if you ran out of gas last night? how would we have found y'all?" quinn goes on and on about how dangerous it was but luke and I don't listen.

luke gives me a mischievous look and I smile back while giving him a nod. he grabs my hand and runs with me straight past quinn and the rest of the people who followed him and back into the house, running straight for the front door and out to luke's car. we laugh and jump in, taking off down the driveway while quinn is yelling at luke behind us.

"well since he didn't kill me then, he'll definitely kill me later." luke's laughter fills the car and soon mine does too. "so, where are we going? breakfast?" he says, looking over at me, but still keeping his eyes on the road.

"yeah, breakfast sounds great. where though?" I ask. we talk about it and soon settle on a local cafe. one that doesn't get a lot if attention so luke wouldn't be bothered while eating his breakfast.

"I'm scared for you when we go home." I laugh, "you would think that since he wants us to date so bad that he would be okay with us spending time with each other."

luke agrees and we continue chatting while we eat. we talk about what he and jack do in their free time, and what quinn and I do in our free time. I ask him about what type of drills they do during practice and whether or not they skate suicides when they mess up and I ask him lots of other stuff too.

our conversation is going really well and I'm getting to know luke really well. but its all cut short when I make eye contact with a new customer who just walked through the door. its quinn. and he's pissed.

[diazsdimples]

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Please ignore that I'm doing this several months late 😬

🤠 - 24 for Ranch AU!

But that did leave him with an awful lot of time on his hands. Bobby and spare time have never been great friends – the last time he was left to his own devices for more than a day, he’d ended up knee deep in planning a lavish wedding that had ultimately been chucked out the door when he and Athena realised, they really didn’t need anything more than themselves and the kids. All that to say that it isn’t really surprising that Bobby downloads the Sims 4 onto his ancient laptop and creates a full-scale version of the ranch. He gets the dimensions off the listing, and with the help of a convenient floorplan and google earth, he manages to make a rather convincing version of the home. He does up the exterior to look just like the ranch house, complete with the large veranda and the ornate trims around the spandrels, and even manages to find a tile that looks exactly like the path leading to the front door. The interior is a different matter. Bobby doesn’t love the colour scheme either, and he can’t see himself coping with an oven as miniscule as the one that comes with the home, so he allows himself a little creative licence. It’s just a video game, after all. He’s not seriously planning it out. Several hours later, Bobby sits back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Blessedly, Athena still has a job, which means Bobby hasn’t needed to worry about her finding out his momentary lapse in sanity, but it also means he hasn’t got anyone to show off his creation to – a thought that upsets him a little more than it should, were he being normal about the whole thing. He’s fiddling around with some of the furniture in the master bedroom when the front door bursts open and a furious looking Buck stalks over his threshold, followed by a harried Eddie. “What’s going –” “Bobby, you wouldn’t believe what that man made us do!” Buck explodes as he starts pacing the kitchen. Eddie leans against the countertop, running a hand over his face. “I know you said I shouldn’t let him get to me but I can’t, he’s just so –” Buck trails off, looking over at Bobby. His eyes flicker from Bobby’s patient expression to the open laptop, still displaying the Fake Ranch. “Are we… interrupting something?” “No.” Bobby goes to shut the laptop but Buck is quicker. “Is that the Sims?” Buck asks incredulously. “Man, you must be bored, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play video games.”

❄️ - 24 for Frostpunk AU!

“You did it,” he repeats, praying his voice won’t betray him. “You’re safe.” At his words, Eddie’s eyes shut, and his brings his hands up to his face as he lets out a deep exhale. His fingers shake as he wipes a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t think we’d – I thought -” Eddie swallows thickly. He looks around the tent, eyes wet, and his gaze falls on a familiar mop of brown curls. “Is that – is that my son? Can I see him, please?” Buck squeezes Eddie’s shoulder again, offering him a smile. “Of course.” When Buck reaches Christopher’s bed, the kid looks up at him quizzically. It’s clear that he wasn’t as blissfully unaware of his father’s event as Buck had hoped, despite the small crowd of medics around him, all intent on distracting him. “Is everything okay with Dad?” he asks Buck, without preamble. Buck crouches down to Christopher’s level and brushes a loose curl out of his eyes. “Yeah bud, everything’s okay. Better than, actually – he’s awake.” Buck holds out his hand for Christopher. “Want to come see him? He’d like to see you.” Christopher throws himself into Buck’s arms, taking him by surprise. Buck catches him around the middle and hauls him up, carrying him to Eddie’s cot. The moment Christopher sees his father, sitting upright, awake and breathing, a great sob escapes his lips. Buck lowers him into Eddie’s waiting arms and pauses, not sure what to do as he watches father embrace son. Fat tears roll down Eddie’s cheeks as he holds Christopher as tight as he can, muscles shaking after weeks of no use.

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

I was 19, wearing the only flattering dress I had. It was all black, a rough but not scratchy fabric, flared at the waist. The bust looked pretty good on me. I bought it from a used clothes store about two months after I started publicly crossdressing when I was 16. At 17, I wore it to my grandfather’s funeral, and seven months later to my friend Liam’s funeral. That night was a different sort of occasion.

Around 11:30 I parked my car at a Comfort Inn just off the highway, about 25 minutes from my suburban apartment and sat for a few moments, finishing my cigarette, putting it out on the side of my car. I always took a moment after parking to sit with myself before going to meet someone. I was nervous, not fearful, though maybe a smarter person would have been, just as a measure of caution.

It wasn’t my first time werking, but I was still pretty green, I had only been in the real-deal-pay-to-play game for a couple months, mostly doing blow and gos before that. Full service felt like hot girl shit, it was different from the eyes-closed blowjobs I had been giving since I was 15. I was still a sexual commodity, but a sexual commodity they were willing to get a motel room for and drop more than $20 on, so I actually bothered to play dress up--and shower--for it.

I walked into the building, passed the reception desk, not paying them any mind, knowing they’d see me leave in about an hour and know exactly what I was there to do. After a trek through a few dimly lit hallways, I found the room he told me he was in and I knocked. The knocking on the door is always the scariest moment of a smooth and safe job. I always envision some vacationing mother coming to the door, distraught at having to see a fat tgirl dressed up like a whore and telling me “No, we didn’t order a prostitute, you should try 1106, this is 1160.”

Luckily, for both me and this imagined middle aged woman, I got the right room. The john opened up the door and let me in. I saw the money already laid out onto the table, quickly counted it, and put it into my purse, which I set down. He sauntered over and wrapped his arms around me. He was a head and a half taller than I was and wasted no time in getting physical. After only a couple of minutes, I was laying on my back on the bed, the john kissing my legs, up to my crotch. This was a “I want to do whatever makes you feel good” john, which are actually much harder to work for than the “shut up and suck my dick, faggot” johns. I can suck a dick, but I can’t really act, though I ended up seeing this man a couple more times over the next year, so either I can act well enough or I just have a monopoly on fat non-passing tranny prostitutes in the west suburbs of Chicago.

There’s a certain way this kind of john carries himself while having sex: he moves as if trying to be seductive and sexy, as if to pretend he won me with wit and attractiveness rather than the promise of a small wad of twenties. This sort of john’s ultimate fantasy is to have sexually pleased someone–anyone!--else, a thing they are so unable to do that they have to pay a teenager to pretend that they give great head. This john did these soft, light touches, that I had to fight very hard against bursting into laughter from. The only way I can describe the head he gave is that noise that Anthony Hopkins makes in Silence of the Lambs. after he says “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.” Fththththth.

About fifteen minutes into his lease on my body, he pulled away from me and said, “Hey baby, would you mind if I did a line off you?”

I sincerely thought about it for a moment, as it was clear he was genuinely asking. I wanted the anecdote and said yes.

He walked over to his jacket and grabbed a smallish baggie of coke and came back over to the bed, He grabbed a pinch, deposited it in a line on my left breast, and made another attempt at that seductive movement, his head bobbing and swaying for a few moments before he swooped down like a plane finally landing after circling the runway, opening his mouth as he did, and licking the line up with his tongue.

Had I not been being paid for my composure, I would have burst into laughter, the man might as well have just rubbed lidocaine on his gums. Yet again, a straight face was kept, and we got back to business.

Ten to fifteen minutes after his first line, I was laying on my stomach and he was kissing my ass and legs. Again, he asked me if he could do another line, and again, I said yes.

It is my genuinely held belief that should I, in the state of health I find myself in, ever do cocaine my heart will explode and my eyeballs will pop out of my head and dangle as in cartoons. However, simply through being a rational, reasonable human being, if I were to make the decision to both do coke, and do it off of someone’s ass, I would have a clear path on how I would accomplish that task–snort a horizontally placed line off of a cheek. My very own Mr. Lecter, however, is an outside the box thinker.

I felt a hand spread my asscheeks apart. He let out an excited sigh. His tongue landed between my cheeks, a full inch behind my asshole. It drew a line up, passed my tailbone, and into the Fat Bitch Mini Crack. After the briefest layover, his tongue took flight once more, seats now filled with coke and ass lint.

[snuggleboots]

Akatsuki parents? Akatsuki parents.

because I like shoehorning my experiences into my ninja bullshit. Hope y'all enjoy my rambling. : )

Feat. Hidan, Kakuzu, Kisame, Itachi.

Hidan ends up a girl-dad, and a proud one at that, given your daughter is a complete fucking gremlin, just like him. An aggressive toddler that looks like a tiny little sweetheart, with chubby cheeks, gorgeous violet eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you'd ever seen, and hair that looks like a carbon copy of your own. Her little smiles are a mixed bag, and you never know whether to expect cute baby affection or chaos that no toddler her size should realistically be capable of bringing into existence.

Nobody expects it when she toddles on up, all tiny, squishy hands and 'awwww, hug?'s, only to turn on a dime and start biting, smacking, or pinching- all while wearing a huge grin that she must have inherited from her dad, or giggling like a squeaky hinge. Babysitters do not last, Hidan finds absolutely nothing more hilarious than seeing another one leave haggard and never pick up jobs from either of you again.

She's a natural climber, knows no fear, and loves nothing more than climbing up onto the back of the couch and waiting. 'Oh no, 'M stuck!' is a goddamn trap. It took a couple pint-sized ambushes, wherein she lunges, catches some serious air, and rams into you or Hidan at full force to learn that lesson. Your natural state becomes STRESSED. Hidan, on the other hand? Constantly entertained. That little girl can do literally no wrong, because, shit, she's just emulating her dad, obviously.

If it's possible for a toddler to be sarcastic, she is, and it's only ever when she's using her manners. One tiny little eyebrow cocked, a crooked smile and cooed, 'Oh, nooo. So-orry!' Hidan has literally cried from laughing so hard, until she turned it on him. One big, angry bitemark on his forearm later, and those tittering giggles and 'Uh-oh, you o'tay? Uh-oh!' felt just a little more irritating than when they were directed towards you. He's even less impressed when you're laughing right alongside your little devil-child.

Older kids tried, once, to pick on the little girl who laughed too loud and played too hard. Unfortunately for them, she's always had a set of lungs and knew damn well how to use them. One blood-chilling shriek- not because she's hurt, but because she knew he'd hear, and haha, there's dad. Big, fat crocodile tears, a quivering pout and squeaky, 'Oh, no!' and it was game on.

Hidan doesn't give a fuck how old a snot-nosed shithead might be, his bullying is indiscriminate and he's had far longer to refine his insults than they have. She's rarely bullied, because word spreads and it's hard for a kid to bounce back from such heated and targeted shit-talk, even harder to bounce back when they watch some whooping, laughing maniac beat the shit out of their dad for trying to step in. You were only slightly surprised, and a little concerned when your little gremlin laughed and squealed over the playground dad on dad beatdown.

Deidara drops by from time to time, and he seems to have as much fun wrangling your tiny little hellion as Hidan does. He doesn't mind the fact that she can be aggressively playful, and takes absolute delight in the way her eyes go wide and shine with awe when he shows off his art. She's fascinated by his hair, and you find some remarkable moments of quiet and peace when she's perched on the couch with him on the floor, her chubby fingers toying with and carding through the golden mane that's somehow smoother and shinier than silk. If he minds the fact that she essentially pets him like a cat, he certainly doesn't mention it. 'Awww! So sof', so sof'.' Between Deidara and Hidan's high energy capacity for mischief, his visits always end up with your daughter properly knackered, and mercifully tame for the rest of the day.

Kakuzu didn't want kids the same way a dad doesn't want the dog his kids inevitably end up bringing home. You two ended up with a daughter, and at some point, somehow, someway, he became begrudgingly attached and takes over everything surrounding that little baby. Maybe it was the fact that when he looks into her eyes, he sees a soft, sweet mirror of his own, moss-green eyes that haven't yet seen the horrors of the world and the awful things that wait within it. Either way, the most miniscule part of him that can still feel love does, and every ounce of it belongs to her. You have your share, but you know that his daughter put the moon and the stars in his sky again.

Your full-time job becomes raising her, the little lady that sees the world with his eyes and speaks remarkably well for a tiny toddler her age. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that he'd trust some random to watch over his girl. You're just lucky that she's an honest delight to raise, although that might be your own bias talking. Kakuzu does a lot of reading with her, and it's almost comical to see a man like him drawling and grumbling through a ten-paged book about a little pig's wild adventures in kindness.

When Kakuzu's balancing books in the evening and she can't sleep, she always seems to find her way to the kitchen table where the old bounty hunter is pouring over expenses and budgets. Tiny fingers count on an abacus while he counts stacks of green, and when he loses count because she's quietly chatting away to the walls and the table and his ears when they listen, he can't even find it in himself to be upset. Not when those pretty eyes turn their gaze to him and she bids her sweet 'uh oh, sorry papa'. For all his power, he can be weak in those moments that make his heart just a little happier.

Innocent, and unacquainted with the temper that almost defines him as a man, she isn't afraid of him, she isn't afraid of him, she isn't afraid of him. Never had she, nor will she ever bear witness to the ugly, vicious face of his short-fuse and hellfire wrath.

That sweet little girl is spoiled, and that's only because she never seems to ask for anything herself. So polite, for one so small. When little green eyes sparkle because they fell upon a pretty dress, a toy, a book that has her oohing and ahhing, a little cup that has a straw 'oh, wow!' and a cute little pig printed on the plastic 'ohh! a piggy! haha, oink oink!' - who is he to turn his head and leave it at that?

She could ask for the moon, and it would be all he could do to bid a slow, pensive nod and murmured assurance, 'It only sits in the sky for you.'

Hidan is a frequent and uninvited visitor, and while normally you'd find that to be cause for concern it's quickly proven pointless to worry given the fact that if Kakuzu isn't grouching him under control, your daughter has a hilarious talent for putting him in his place. Seeing the zealot sat on your couch, being prodded and chided by a girl less than half his size is certainly a sight to behold; hearing her tut and chastise him in a way she must have learned from her dad for putting his feet on the coffee table, shoes on the couch, or his drink on the side table without a coaster is absolutely hysterical. 'Stains are 'spensive! Feet down!'

Kakuzu's sweet little mini-me: breathes

Kakuzu:

Kisame takes on the dad role like he was born for it, after a small period of adjustment. You two end up having a boy and a girl, and he's practically putty in their little hands. Your boy is huge, had been since he was a baby - which is natural, Hoshigaki kids are just... big, generally. Your girl caught both of you off guard, only because she's so tiny. The sibling dynamic is chaos, but a warm one that always seems to leave Kisame cackling or grinning over something ridiculous those two end up getting into.

Your boy is like a walking clone of his dad, and even as a little boy he's already standing as tall as your ribs. Slate-blue hair as soft as cornsilk, teeth that make you grateful he was never a biter, and little gills bracketing his throat. Soft-spoken, a little shy outside of his parents, and constantly looking to wrestle and play. If you're doing something, he's a guaranteed little helper - he likes to help with cooking when you let him. If his baby sister is getting into trouble, he's either helping her do it to make sure she's safe, or he's the one carrying a kicking, griping toddler to one of you two to handle. Yeah, he's a bit of a narc- but it's always for a good cause. He's a fretful big brother.

Your girl is probably the most precious little baby you'd ever met, and Kisame is quite literally helpless against her doe-eyes and deceptively sweet, cheery little voice. Where her brother is quiet, she is loud; where he's happier to follow the rules and keep out of trouble, she's a born rule-breaker that finds boundaries just to test them. When you stumble upon her in the midst of some suspiciously quiet, pint-sized anarchy, she always manages to look surprised that you ever caught her in the first place. She looks like you, if you were knee-height and sporting tiny little daggers for teeth and gills on your cheekbones. Kisame blames you entirely for her gremlin personality.

Kisame does not discipline unless he needs to, because he feels awful when big, sweet baby eyes look at him with complete betrayal that he dared to tell them no, or stop them from pulling off some kind of crazy baby scheme that would make your hair grey from stress. Quivering pouts or teary eyes and he's gotta tap out.

Babysitters adore your kids when they behave, but Kisame vets any you hire thoroughly because he's more than a little protective of his babes. It's like they're each a half of his heart living outside his body and he honestly struggles to manage the overwhelming love and affection they pump into his veins every day. He could, and gladly would break fingers over something as minute as hurt feelings.

You hold the sole rights to discipline outside the house, too. If either of your ankle-biters act out their mischief in public, and someone tries to step up and throw in their two cents, Kisame's massive silhouette and mean, sawtooth grin are very effective deterrents.

Itachi is a semi-frequent visitor, and both of your children love him fiercely. You're half-convinced that he has some kind of Uchiha magnetism, given the fact that he'd won over not one, but three Hoshigaki by the sheer power of his quiet, soothing presence. Kisame takes great amusement in watching your little lady climb all over the poor man, and your son sidle up beside him with his favourite book to chat his ear off about the adventures that lay within it. Itachi, to his credit, never ever seems to mind the undivided attention of the lively gilled babes.

Kisame, and his pint-sized sidekick: getting into Hoshigaki-brand bullshit

You, with your sweet little chore buddy: > : ( no- one hundred times, no!

Kisame, and his tiny co-maker of mayhem: betrayed, bamboozled, and somehow? positively shocked that you found out

Itachi slips seamlessly into a domestic role, despite how long he'd been absent from one. Childrearing almost seems like his god-given purpose in life once he actually sets himself to it, and the second you two brought home your cooing, burbling baby it was on. He's happy, grateful to stay home and take care of your son, tend to the home and make your transition back to work as smooth of a process as possible.

It's an all-too common scene to come home and find the Uchiha at task in the kitchen, tending to a meal simmering on the stove while your squishy, pudgy-cheeked and sleepy eyed boy perched on his hip with a tenderness that makes your heart hurt. Even as a clumsy little toddler, he's never found very far from his dad. If Itachi is cleaning, there's his little mini-me, trying to help and earning gentle encouragement and a soft, fond smile for his efforts.

Honestly, your little guy is the most well-mannered, well-adjusted, well-spoken toddler you've ever met. He genuinely likes to help, to the point that it sometimes becomes a problem because he's very determined when there's any little problem set out in front of him. At the park, playing with other little babes, he's more concerned with making sure everyone's playing fair and playing safe than he is about actually having any fun himself. He's a bit of a worrywart for someone his age, and half the time it feels like he's the self-appointed tiny guardian of his friend group. Someone trips and skins a knee? 'Are you okay? We can sit down for a little. It's okay.' A born father, is your Itachi.

Who, for a man so reserved and soft-spoken, is hellbent on making sure his son has the most peaceful, memorable childhood he can possibly offer. Not a day is wasted in your household, even a lazy day is an opportunity to make memories and spend some honest, quality time with the people he loves most. You three can cook meals together, with your boy set to work at taste-testing and mixing ingredients under the quiet, watchful eye of his dad. He never wants for encouragement, love, affection, or little things that catch his eye; it would be wrong to call him spoiled, because he isn't, but there is little he wants that he doesn't receive.

Your secondary job is bullying Itachi into taking a day to relax and unwind, because although your son is essentially the perfect child, it's still a lot of work to raise him. Even when you're the primary parent on those days off, he's never far away, and always finding sneaky ways to slip back into dad-mode rather than actually relax. Half the time it takes you putting your son on the job of wrangling his dad just to make the man sit down, crack open a book and let himself just be. That typically entails your little boy gently chiding his father in a way you're certain he learned from the Uchiha himself- and god, it makes your heart melt. 'No, no. Gotta have your tea, it's gonna get cold', 'Sit, sit, sit. Sometimes we need to sit, papa. Gotta rest!'

Kisame loves to visit, he makes that fact no secret. For a man so massive, so intimidating, he handles your boy like glass- as if he's afraid a little rough play might break him. And your son, always as sweet as he is smart, adores the company. His questions know no limits, and he's a clever little babe about getting answers without actually asking questions. 'Can we go swimming? You must swim fast- can you swim under water? I can hold my breath longer than you can.' You once got to watch the boy perched at the end of a dock for half an hour, holding a staring contest with the swordsman who'd been stubbornly sat at the bottom of the lake's shallows for at least half an hour. That thoroughly entertained grin on the swordsman's face when he flared his gills told you he knew what exactly your boy was so curious about when he'd challenged him in the first place.

[poppy-metal]

something about a beautiful delicate man with a thick country accent and a FAT flannel fleece makes me absolutely explode. just so manly and so pretty and sensible. he’s so direct. maybe that’s what you like about him. city boys, they beat around the bush, they’re foolish, they play games. only games art plays happen when the rodeo comes to town every summer. (art bull riding………… thought for a different day (later this day)) if he thinks you’re up to no good, plotting on his pink cock, he’ll speak to you direct about it. he shows you to milk the goat, and when your hands grace his one too many times he’s gotta clear it with you right then.

“you got an agenda of some kind miss?”

“an agenda?”

“you thinkin something might occur between us?”

you blush violently and straighten up on the milking stool.

“don’t know.”

art sniffs.

“don’t do nobody no good not knowing. either do think or you don’t miss.”

to feel even a second of scornfulness from art is pain. you want so badly to be good. to do as he says.

“i think.”

he turns to you, and smiles lopsided, with lips used to chewing a tooth pick. your heart fills with light. how could one person be so pretty and at the same time make you feel so small, like such a woman?

“i was thinkin the same damn thing.”

PLUMMIE

need him to show me how to milk his cock next <//3 how to be a woman that takes care of her man real nice - how to squeeze his dick until he's leaking into your palm. need the kind of dicking from him that shows me that all the sex I've had before him was with boys and not men - men like him. the way he moves his hips - moves in and out of you in just the right way. makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back and has you wanting to drop everything you have back in the city just to be at his beck and call - does he need some iced tea? a sandwich? the bed made? the counters dusted?

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon takes the bag, then peeks inside it with a puzzled little frown. Tim, again, makes a note to buy him more stuff. Kon is gonna expect presents every time he sees him, by the time he’s done with him. Because Kon deserves nice things and also–well–

Well, actually . . . okay, it’s not actually going to be necessary for Tim to get Kon a present every single time he sees him, admittedly, just . . . well. He wants to, he guesses. Wants Kon to feel valued for once in his fucking life, since as far as he can tell no one has ever actually gone to any effort whatsoever to make him feel like that. Like–ever. Not even once. 

If Tim maybe spoils him a little in the process, well–that’s only balancing out the bullshit, isn’t it? 

“Oh,” Kon says, his eyes widening a little in surprise before he frowns in confusion. Tim continues to notice the eyeliner. It’s just a little bit smudged, like maybe Kon’s still learning how to do it right, and it’s also low-key triggering an emotional crisis in Tim’s entire fucking everything, to be honest. “What's . . .?” 

“I mean, it’s a couple of things?” Tim says, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward about his gifting decisions. Choices. Choicisions. “I don’t know if it’s very, uh, romantic, but . . .” 

“‘Romantic’,” Kon repeats in the exact same awkward way he did “flowers”. Tim only doesn’t curl up and die by sheer force of will. 

“Yeah,” he says. Kon stares at him for a long, intent moment, then looks back down into the bag and pulls out the fat little plastic bag of Hawaiian-import gummy candies on top of it. Tim will take any excuse to get calories into him at this point, even if it’s just candy. Chocolates probably would’ve been more date-appropriate, but when he was looking for popular Hawaiian candies, these ones kept coming up. 

“I haven’t seen this brand in months,” Kon says, looking bewildered. “I didn’t even know they sold it on the mainland.” 

“They do not,” Tim says, trying not to look embarrassed. “I ordered it online.”

And also paid for expedited shipping to make sure it’d get here on time. 

“Oh,” Kon says, his cheeks turning just a little pink as he ducks his head and smiles again. Then he glances back down into the bag with a puzzled little frown and tilts his head. “. . . is that a Switch case? What’s that for?” 

“Because there was too much packaging to make you lug around all night but putting a loose Switch in there seemed like a bad idea,” Tim replies reasonably. It’s the Lite, because he still doesn’t know if Kon has either a TV or any real space for one in his room, so Kon can’t possibly worry about it being too expensive like he did with the phones. And even if it weren’t the Lite, it’s still not the OLED, so he thinks he’s doing a great job with the self-restraint, personally. 

“You got me a Switch?” Kon says. Tim continues to not know how to explain how much money he intends to spend on him, so just shrugs.

“Just the Lite. I got you the turquoise, since it doesn't come in green. And an online subscription, so we can play together,” he says. He hasn’t dug his own Switch out in a few months–too much else to do–but he figures if doing that gets Kon to accept the gift and gets him closer to apartment/cul-de-sac territory, it’s not exactly a burden. “I wasn’t sure what kind of games you were into, so I got a few different ones. They’re all in the case, it’s got interior pockets.” 

“I–you–” Kon fumbles a little, then turns red again. “You really wanna play together?” 

Tim wants to throw a lot of people off a lot of roofs. Hard. Just so hard. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course I do.” 

Kon gets even redder and shoves the candy back in the bag, looking away. 

“Thanks. That'd be, um–cool,” he says. “Uh–ready to go?” 

“Uh, there's one more thing in there, actually,” Tim admits, a little embarrassed by said thing but also not wanting Kon to miss it and accidentally throw it away later. It's silly, but . . . he doesn't know, he'd just thought it was kind of cute or whatever. 

Maybe “cute” isn't really a Kon thing, but he seemed to like the goat okay, so . . . 

“There is?” Kon peers back into the bag, then digs in through the tissue paper with a curious frown. “What's–oh. Huh.” 

He pulls out the chunky little plastic figure at the bottom of the bag and blinks at it. It's a Superboy toy, not because Tim was deliberately looking for a Superboy toy to give him but because the coincidence when he'd tripped over it had just seemed–fortuitous, he doesn't know. 

“It's a Duplo toy,” Tim supplies. “I mean, it was licensed so I assume you got paid for it at some point, but the set it's from came out while you were off-grid and I don't know how much your manager ever kept you in the loop on those things anyway, plus you said you didn't know what Duplo even was so when I found it I figured you didn't have one. The actual set came with, like, a few different hero characters, but it's sold out and I don't think they've done another run. I just found that little guy being sold solo on eBay.” 

“You got me a toy of myself?” Kon asks, giving him a wry look. 

“Superman's looked stupid,” Tim lies, because he would sooner burn his wallet than buy Superman merch at this point, never mind that he knows the money all goes to either various accredited charities or the Justice League. “Though I guess Supergirl's or Steel's would've been okay. I don't really know how close you are to them, though.” 

“I would say ‘not at all', probably,” Kon says, turning over the toy in his hand and peering more closely at it. “‘Duplo'? So like . . . the kid toys you were talking about at the museum?” 

“Um, yeah,” Tim says. “I mean, you don't really own any childhood stuff, right, so . . . I don't know, I figured why not?” 

“You're a Gothamite, man, you should've gotten me Bat toys,” Kon says, ducking his head with another smile. “Batman wouldn’t approve.” 

“Batman's just an urban legend,” Tim pretends to believe. Kon laughs.

“Please, that's just what you guys say to cops and tourists,” he teases. 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” Tim says. “Or make any comments on how incredibly inaccurate any nonspecific bat-themed superhero toys that've been commercially produced may or may not be.” 

“Oh yeah?” Kon asks, laughing again. It's that still-unfamiliar bright laugh that Robin's never gotten out of him, and Tim feels some very weird ways about it. Like. Several very weird ways. Many very weird ways. So many. 

Fuck, he's in deep here. But that's not news, so whatever. If Tim had ever once in his life gone to any effort whatsoever to avoid trouble he wouldn't be Robin and Bruce would be an even more vengeful and unhappy asshole who never talked to Dick and probably the Joker would be dead, which would admittedly be a single specific improvement but otherwise would suck. Like, really suck. 

Tim is gonna be a supervillain someday, yeah, but that's a rational decision that he's deliberately making, not a “driven by personal trauma and tragedy” grief response. And Bruce would be absolutely miserable as a supervillain, anyway, plus he'd never be able to convince Dick to go for it and then Dick would have to fight him and it'd be awful and Alfred would never make any of them post-patrol cookies again, which would immediately make this the worst possible timeline. And then someone would have to go trick the Flash into fixing it all and–look, it'd just be very complicated and unnecessary. So being Robin is just a better idea all around, really, and also saves the timeline from any speedsters happening to it. 

Again. 

“I just thought it was cute, I don’t know,” Tim says. “He’s got his little earring and leather jacket and stupid smirk, what can I say, I was endeared.” 

“‘Endeared’, huh?” Kon says with a grin, holding the little figure against his chest. 

“Oh, downright smitten,” Tim deadpans. Kon laughs again. 

“Nerd,” he says in obvious and unexpectedly fond amusement, which reminds Tim of him telling him to kiss him in the department store changing room and gives him a little bit of that whole cliché “butterflies in the stomach” rush. Or possibly batarangs, from how they feel. They might be batarangs. He forces himself to not look weird or sappy and just shrugs. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Anyway. Now I’m ready to go.” 

“Where are we going?” Kon asks curiously, and Tim smiles at him. 

“Somewhere nice, like I promised,” he says. Kon snorts, but doesn’t do anything to hide his own pleased smile. 

“Sure, whatever,” he says as he drops the Duplo figure back into the gift bag, still smiling. “Keep your secrets and lead the way, babe.” 

“I can do that,” Tim says, and then reaches out and catches Kon’s free hand to hold while they walk, lacing their fingers together. Kon turns red again and really smiles at him. His hand still feels too-soft and immeasurably strong, even though Tim knows for a fact that the TTK does more heavy lifting than Kon’s actual muscles do, or even can. No matter how the Kryptonian physiology is or isn’t coming in, the TTK is always gonna be stronger, Tim’s pretty sure. It’s not like it’s not going to get enhanced by the yellow sunlight absorption and the process of Kon’s physical maturation too, after all. 

But anyway, more importantly, he finally came up with a date idea he thinks Kon might like, so . . . 

Well, if Kon doesn’t like it, there’s backup ideas. But–he thinks Kon might like it, at least. It’s kind of weird, but so is Kon and so is he and so are their lives, and also there’ll be a gift shop to buy him stuff at. 

Tim is going to buy out that gift shop if Kon actually likes this date. 

Once Kon's done making fun of him, anyway, which he is definitely gonna do when he realizes what Tim is about to use a fake ID to do. 

. . . maybe he can just pretend to be eighteen, actually. Kon never did read that report he wrote up for him; he doesn't have any way to know how old he actually is. 

Eh, no, that's too weird and also would be annoying to remember without an associated cover. Fuck it, Tim will just live with the teasing, he guesses.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit, Part Fourteen on AO3

Content

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

Simon brings in John's clothes because he's a good lad despite being a pain in the ass. He's also been busy cleaning up the blood John tracked in while they've been busy cleaning each other. John helps with the last of it, tries to scrub the place of Graves' every last discarded skin cell to get the stench out of his nose but it's no use. Irony of all ironies that his senses should return to him just in time to have the scent of another man on his mate lodged into his craw.

Smut in this chapter. If that's not for you go ahead and skip from one '---' to the next.

Simon brings in John's clothes because he's a good lad despite being a pain in the ass. He's also been busy cleaning up the blood John tracked in while they've been busy cleaning each other. John helps with the last of it, tries to scrub the place of Graves' every last discarded skin cell to get the stench out of his nose but it's no use. Irony of all ironies that his senses should return to him just in time to have the scent of another man on his mate lodged into his craw.

She snoozes on the couch unaware, wakes up occasionally with stifled gasps and peers around cautiously until she spots either himself or Simon. It makes John's teeth ache, relief coming only when he sucks the last of Grave's taste from his teeth.

He trusts Simon when the man declares Grave's phone no threat. They crush it under heel and bury it with what remains of him in the shallow hole John dug while still in his other form. It had been instinct, then - borne of a need to come back and finish the job later, to not let wolves or other large game happen upon him. Now, it serves as both a convenient grave and great evidence of what had happened here. He'll be found eventually, probably. From what Simon could gather, Grave's friend Shepherd had given him free reign of the place for as long as he needed, but people tended to ask after their friends and investments, and no doubt eventually Shepherd would come calling; but all he'd find would be a corpse with a cranial bite fracture large enough to make him believe in cryptids, likely. 

And if he knew to expect bunny, he knew enough to see why she'd run after her captor had been killed as well.

Simon brings the Suburban around and John's exhaustion catches up with him so he sleeps in the backseat with his rabbit snuggled to his chest while they make their way back down to the Jeep. She lights up like a firecracker when she spots it, and John tries not to let himself get too bent out of shape about her still considering it to be her home. They have time now, no looming threat to chase her away from him. He'd get her settled into his den soon enough, turn her Jeep back into a proper car.

One with a real backseat too, hopefully.

"You'll be okay back here, bunny?" John asks once he gets her tucked into the bed she'd installed. There's nothing to hold her in place and he worries her leg will get too jostled, but she's refusing to ride in the Suburban because she doesn't want to be separated from her precious home again. John can't really fault her for that. Uses it as an excuse to dismiss Simon back to Glacier while they head for the nearest hospital. 

"I'll be fine, quit your worrying. Bye, Simon. Thanks again for everything!"

It's possible the big man actually smiles at her, eyes crinkling slightly above his mask as he pats her on her good foot. "See you at home, pet."

Bunny bites back a small smile of her own as she considers his wording. She seems to steel herself for a moment, then tells Simon to say hi to Soap for her. Riley pauses, narrows his eyes at her in every way but physically, then nods exactly once and drives away in John's car.

John stares after him, stunned.

"I think you're being dramatic about him -."

"Do you think they got married when I wasn't looking?" John asks, still staring confusedly after his friend.

"What?"

"Just admitted he was on his way to see Soap." 

"Yeah, because they work together." 

"He knew how you meant it."

"Doesn't mean they -."

"Simon won't admit what he had for breakfast unless it's a matter of public record and there's no use denying."

"Tells me plenty," she shrugs, prods him with her toe. "Ever think he just likes fucking with you?" 

"He told you they're together, then?"

"So was that not an admission?" she counters.

John sighs, goes to shut the hatch. "Pair'a you are impossible."

Her voice is muffled when it calls through the glass, "Us!? You turned into a bear!"

***

The receptionist at the hospital takes one look at the rabbit and notes she's not about to keel over, then hands off a clipboard of paperwork which makes bunny grimace. She admits she doesn't have insurance and John bodily wheels her closer to himself so he can check over the questionnaire with her. He'd gone in ahead of her to get a chair when they'd first arrived and he's been taking advantage of just how easy she is to maneuver ever since.

"Bloody Americans," he grumbles. "That sales gig doesn't offer benefits?" 

She pales, visibly braces herself. "About that… I don't actually have a job." John frowns at her and she rambles, "I only lied cause no one wants to be unemployed and homeless. I had to quit when I left, obviously, and I didn't want to be applying for jobs when Phil always got his sticky little fingers in everything. And I had enough in savings anyway, it's just -."

"Bunny, 'm'not mad," John reassures her, palm heavy on her back as he rubs soothing circles there. "At least, not at you. I'm sorry you didn't think you could tell me."

Her breath puffs out of her as she tries to center herself. "It's nothing you did, was just really self-conscious about my situation, and didn't wanna unload everything   on you in order to explain."

"Mm. I wish you had told me. So much we could've done different to keep you safe."

She cringes. "I know, but it's -. Well it's not that I'm ashamed of myself or anything stupid like that, it's just also not something I want clouding everyone's perception of me, you know? Also, none of that 'keeping me safe' stuff was your responsibility anyway."

John huffs to show what he thinks of that, checks over the fine print on her clip board about charges and billing nightmares. "I'll help, of course."

Her poor battered head whips around so fast he's surprised her eyes don't cross. " Not going to let you take the bill."

John shrugs, grins. "Well you'll have to put someone's address down, and you're not the one who checks my mail." She sputters but John's already moved on, leaning back in his chair and settling in for a long haul.

It is indeed hours of waiting. John zonks out a few times, wakes up with a cough when bunny prods him for snoring too loud. 

"Fed the bear, eh?" cheeky shit.

"Fat and happy," he agrees. He folds himself over the arm of her chair so he can use her shoulder as a pillow, rubs his beard there, where she still smells like another man, marks his territory.

She's none the wiser. "If you snore in my ear, I'm leaving you here."

"Can't drive in a cast, rabbit."

"Don't need to drive, it's a house on wheels. Just gotta lock you out."

He chuckles, kisses her temple as he leans in close to her ear. "I'd tear the top off it like a sardine can to get to you."

She stills, but not the same way she used to. When he checks, her eyes are wide, sure, but she's peering back at him now instead of focusing middle distance. He grins at her knowingly but she scoffs, waves him off. "Not that impressive. Even I can take the top off a Wrangler."

When they do come for her, the nurse takes one look at the state of her, spares John a quick, guarded glance, then rather pointedly asks the rabbit if she'd like to be brought back on her own.

"Never thought I'd get to say no to this question!" bunny chirps, and it's not funny but she's grinning like an idiot so he gives her a wincing sort of smirk. "Oh, you're no fun." She turns back to the nurse with a genuine smile. "This one's alright, promise."

The nurse nods sympathetically and even lets John wheel his girl around as she guides them back to radiology. She does need a reset unfortunately, through which he holds her hand and whispers sweet words into her scalp, but things move right along after that. They put her on concussion protocol and send her packing; turns out underpaid hospital workers ask disconcertingly few questions and they'd worried for nothing. Although he does fish a brochure for a battered women's helpline from her cast when the itchiness gets so bad she nearly buffs off the plaster with her nails in the car after.

She insists upon a hotel for the night so he can sleep off the rest of his meal, and then gets him to begrudgingly agree to let her pay for it by pointing out that if anything does come up down the road, legally speaking, it would be best not to have bank records stating he'd been in the area. 

"I travel a lot, clearly. Mine could be explained away as coincidence. Or maybe I'd been meeting him to pick up some of my old stuff. You know, normal break up things."

It makes his mustache twitch, but she's right is the hell of it. "Simon was getting petrol along the way because I was too antsy…"

"Right. Simon's nosey," she shrugs. "He followed me."

John feels his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, nods. "True enough… What about Graves having been in Glacier?"

Her nose scrunches in thought. Cute. "You know what? News to me. Who knows what that slimy bastard was up to?"

She's leaned over the center console to speak with him, soft lit by the dim stadium lighting of the parking lot. The neon sign by the entrance displays approximately three quarters of the name 'Maken Motel' while the vacancy sign sputters so erratically he's not entirely sure if they have it. He hasn't gone in yet, was making a last ditch effort to convince her to let him pay. She's smart, though. Better at this plotting stuff than he is, at least. He supposes one would have to be to orchestrate an escape from a man like Graves. 

Finally, he huffs in defeat, leans over to brush a kiss on her bruised forehead. "Clever rabbit," he admits, then takes her card and heads inside.

***

The room is nicer than expected. Queen bed, clean shower, basic cable. Smells chemically clean. The rabbit's smart enough to inspect for bed bugs before allowing John to go grab some bedclothes for her, but when he comes back he's only carrying the trunks and socks she'd requested. She huffs when he slips his own shirt over her head but he's not having it.

"Please, bunny. You still stink like him."

"Oh," she frowns. She tucks her nose into the collar of his shirt, tries to sniff herself. "I smell like old man body wash," she counters.

He shakes his head, sticks his nose rather pointedly into the tender spot behind her ear. "Under that. It clings to you."

"It does?" she asks, voice breathy in concern, or embarrassment, or something else.

John kisses her there; licks, just because she knows now and he can do these things with some semblance of reasoning. "Mmhmm. You two smelled…" he drags his lips across her pulse point, supports her under the arms as he walks her back to the bed. "Upsettingly alike." He's very serious when he meets her eye, cradles her face. "We're gonna have to change that, bunny."

"O-okay." She sounds like she doesn't quite know what that means, but that's okay. He'll show her 

He goes back to kissing down her throat, slips his fingers into the waist of her sweats and slides them along with her knickers down past her full hips before lowering her gently onto the edge of the bed. He gets her bottoms off her good leg, but struggles with the cast. She told him she'd been in sleepwear when she'd been abducted, so the sweats must've been Graves' doing. He'd taken no small amount of pleasure when the nurses had to cut her pant leg off to make the cast work, but he takes even more pleasure in ripping them up the seam now, growling as if he'd been severely inconvenienced by their very existence. 

"Okay, tiger," she laughs. She goes to strip his shirt back off herself but he stills her hand with his own.

"That stays on."

She frowns in confusion, then smirks and cocks a brow as she tucks her nose into her own armpit and sniffs. John nods, eyes nearly boring a hole into her chest where her heavy tits stretch the material enticingly. "Alright, you weirdo," she laughs, but her hands abandon her own hem in favor of bending over him and tugging at his jeans. "Your turn, then."

John smiles indulgently up at her, accepts the kiss she plants on him with a happy hum. His hands are gentle but insistent, however, when he pushes her back onto the bed, laying her out. He shuffles closer, pushes her plush thighs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not yet, sweetheart. Wanna make it up to you first."

"Make what up to me?" John's hands have snaked up under her thighs, hoisting them onto his shoulders so he can lay his palms flat on her belly. Her hands find his and he gives her one, holding a spread palm out to her so she can thread her pudgy fingers through his own.

"Not telling you, of course." He only realizes he's got his snout buried in her curls when his voice comes out muffled. She doesn't smell like him here and John breathes deep, closing his eyes blissfully in a way that makes his rabbit squirm uncomfortably. "You gonna let me take care of you?"

She snorts, cute thing. "So what's all this been, then?"

"Got a lot to make up for."

The rabbit frowns, letting the silence draw out until John feels compelled to fill it. This time when John breathes deep and shakes his head against her, it's borne of frustration "Let you get poached right out from under me."

Bunny sighs, runs her fingers through his hair as she chews on some words. "Not how I remember it."

John can't help but laugh bitterly. "No?"

" No. " She uses her grip on his hair to push him back up on his haunches, slips her legs off his shoulders and struggles to sit up. "John, I ran the fuck away from you. I said my goodbyes. The only reason we're here is because you didn't give up when I fully fucking did."

"You didn't give up, sweetheart, you panicked. And you wouldn't have had to, had I been paying closer attention."

"John, that's -." She huffs, tries again. "A full blown military operation would struggle to account for Phil. You not noticing him skulking around town in a car I didn't even recognize doesn't mean you weren't paying attention. It's also, like, a big ask to expect you to pay attention to stuff like that in the first place."

"I knew it was a possibility and I -."

"So did I. Listen, we're not playing this game. If there's one thing I've gotten good at over the years, it's recognizing that Phil's shortcomings as a decent human being do not reflect negatively on me. Us. We shouldn't and can't be expected to plan for someone like him."

John narrows his eyes up at her. "And yet, you did plan on him."

"Yeah, and not well enough, clearly. I'm not denying either of those things. But taking this as a learning opportunity for some vague next time does not equal beating myself up about not having learned this same lesson magically in the past." She deflates a little, scritches his scalp. "Not being able to comprehend what people like Phil are capable of doesn't make us naive, or stupid. It just means those things don't come naturally to us. We have to be taught, essentially."

"Hard lesson," John grumbles, and she nods sadly.

"You don't have to make anything up to me, John. You saved my life back there. Metaphorically at least, if not literally."

"Not funny," John grumbles, but he presses a kiss to her inner knee all the same. "And if I just wanted to eat your pussy, no ulterior motive?"

The look she gives him as she draws him back into her lap is somehow both teasing and teased. "Well, you could've just said that."

---

She sighs contentedly when he gets his mouth on her - as if she's sinking into a warm bath after a hard day. As if he's bringing about the first wave of undiluted relief she's felt in weeks. He breathes with her, keeps the hand still threaded with hers exactly where she's placed it on her belly. He gets her bad leg back up over his shoulder, though, uses the space it creates to nudge in closer. She's not quite wet yet, the brief discussion about his insecurities probably having undone any progress he might've made before. It's no matter. John's just as happy to nuzzle into the core of her, lick at her hinges where her sweat collects heady and pure. He's babbling, only realizes it when she starts answering, petting at his head and telling him she missed him too and would he please get on with it.

Too happy to oblige, John laps at her cunt where her slick has begun to collect and spreads it around with lips and tongue. She may as well be made of honey for how sweet she tastes to him. He tells her that, though he's not sure she's actually understood, what with how thoroughly he's smothered himself. She laughs anyway, light and easy, belly jiggling. He's a goner.

He gets her to cum on his tongue and then his fingers, curled up around her on the bed while her good leg drapes over his hip. She's on her back - so open like this, letting him touch her however he wants. He's got an arm tucked under her shoulders, petting at her hair, her cheeks, the column of her throat. She sinks her fingers into the pelt of his chest and hangs on for dear life once he gets his palm flush with her clit.

"Shit, John."

"That it, baby? Right there?" He can't imagine it's not - he's fairly certain he's touching every inch of her, three fingers buried deep and flexing into that spot that makes her back arch and her breath stutter.

"Yeah - fuck -. I can't -."

"You will," he promises. They're so close he can sense her exhaustion on every pant as it fans across his face. Poor bunny, she's in for a long night.

She shakes her head adamantly. "T-too soon." Her legs are shaking enough to lift her cast off the mattress and he knows he should take pity soon.

He takes one finger from her, shushes her pathetic whine with a filthy kiss and by showing her how much deeper he can get with only two fingers. There's a spot at the very end of her that makes her hiccup, sweet thing, so he stays right there, bullies it until she's got tears in her eyes, shaking her head again. 

"Too soon, John. John - fuckfuckfuck - too soon -!"

"Apparently not, love," he laughs, maybe a little cruelly, and that's it, as if all she needed was to hear him. She shakes and shakes and cries and John keeps his fingers in her, soft little pulsing movements that let her trip and fall her way back down to earth while he licks her tears up in between kisses. 

When she's able to kiss him back he lets her take control, fully expecting her to put his hands above his head or something after pressing his luck like that, but she just dives into his mouth like she's found a salt lick, hands clingy and desperate until he gets the message and smothers her, shields her body with his. 

She's still clingy and crying after a few minutes, enough so that John pulls away to look at her, stroking a hand over her face as he collects her tears on his thumb to feed them to her. 

"You okay bunny? How's your head?"

She nods, mouth bobbing on his thumb suggestively.

"You need to be done?"

"Mmphnn."

John removes his appendage, loath as he is to do so. "Need real words, sweetheart."

"No. Need to feel you."

"Feel me where, rabbit?"

In response she hikes her good leg higher up his hip, pulls him impossibly further into her by a belt loop. "John, please."

"Okay, love -." She starts crying more and he ducks down to nuzzle kisses into her temple while he shucks his pants. "- Alright. I'm here. You need me, sweet girl, I'm here."

"Yes," she chokes, and any other night he might chuckle at that but tonight he just nods, presses into her in one long thrust that has her mouth falling open, her eyes glazing over with more than just tears.

"'m'ere, love. Right here." She tightens around him like a vice and he grunts, grinds his hips into hers until she's pliant again. "Yeah, pussy missed me just as much as you did, hm?"

"Yeah," she breathes. "Didn't think - didn't think -."

"Didn't think you'd ever get this cock again, huh baby?"

She shakes her head again, rocks up to meet his thrust as best she can. All a little too coherent, considering how quickly he's falling apart for her. He gets a hand in between them, works her clit with his thumb while she babbles and clings to him, cunt twitching each time his callouses catch too aggressively.

"Wasn't gonna let that happen, you know?" His voice is a low growl, almost surprising even himself.

"Hmmng?"

"Let you run away like that. As long as I know you still want me, love, you're -."

It's like he's found a live wire, her body arching under him as she scrambles at his chest and suddenly it clicks, nearly knocking the breath out of him in the process. He can't help but collapse onto her, lips right at her ear as he fucks into her hard enough to get her whole body bouncing against his. He keeps her in place with an elbow over her shoulder, hand sweet and stroking in her hair to keep her from turning away.

"That it, bunny? You wanna hear how I love you?"

He's ready for it this time, sushing her sweetly as he fucks her through another teary orgasm while she babbles incoherently about losing him. He tumbles over after her when she sniffles and wipes her face with the back of a clenched fist, looks him dead in the eye and says she loves him too.

---

They're lazy after, trading the slow kinds of kisses they haven't really had time for since being reunited. Every cell in his body wants to bundle her up in every blanket this motel has to offer and sleep for at least eighteen hours, but more than that he wants the smell of Graves gone so he forces himself to get up and wrap her cast in a garbage bag so they can take a shower. He resolutely behaves himself, content to just bite playfully into her shoulder, protect her poor head from the harsh water pressure, and tell her loves her a million times more. If she cries again, it gets swallowed up with all that remains of her fears and washed down the drain.

***

She's not in bed when he wakes up the next morning because she's a pesky little creature, but he's willing to forgive her when he smells fresh toast with peanut butter and honey, instant oatmeal, apple slices and hot tea waiting for him. 

"It's no full English, but the cooler went off. So no meat, sorry." She's embarrassed, silly thing. He licks some stray honey from her chin to show her what he thinks of that, and then absolutely makes a fool of himself for how much oatmeal he ingests.

next>>

[coconutdays]

imagine...

having statistics with connie springer and he's funny! super funny, he's really air headed at times and that's all you know about him aside from the fact that he's always grumbling about wanting burgers/pizza or needing a fat nap while walking out with his friend Jean

in your class groupchat on Instagram he’s of course made comment on class discourse like asking what the fuck the professor writing on the board that day or saying some really off handed smart shit like he finished the online quiz in ten minutes

but he’s also shared the most obscure memes and reels that always have you giggling and saving for your own laughs. and he’s sending completely random but precise imitations of your professor that has everyone including you reeling.

you’ve never had the urge to follow him though and he’s never followed you either.

one day you guys all have a group study session at one of your legacy student classmate’s huge house. and for some reason you wind up sharing a giggle fit with him over a rude ass frat guy that you had shared a class with last semester just as he did in a different one, you later find out.

It leads to you guys sitting next to each other for the quick meal the host’s parents generously bought. and then to you guys sharing the same couch space. then it leads to you guys lazying on the even bigger couch in the game room with the pool table while everyone else has a spur of the moment trip to the pool

then

It leads to you going from making fun of your ex’s inability to express his sexual desire for you to you trauma dumping about how you were never showed off that entire relationship when you were the one dating the mid ass bitch

and when you look back at him after explaining it whilst staring at the pool table he’s giving you a serious deep look. and-

was he always that fine?

you brush it off by making a funny comment after and when you get to your place later that night

connnnstanx had followed you

so you follow him back