#i am cradling this scene and putting it up on a shelf

[sparring-spirals]

my heart is just very warm. with how laudna came back. With Laudna coming back mostly un-breathing. With Laudna coming back just right. (A little fucked up.) With dark memories and bad memories being overwritten by sun and color and light and new growth. You do not erase, the old memories, the bad things, the awful. But you overwrite it.

You overgrow it.

Laudna, cheek against the tree that loomed over so much of her past, and, its warm. Its sorry. Its magnificent. Laudna, embracing the tree, letting the warmth overtake the cold, the wind and laughter drown out the creaking and swinging ropes. Kids screaming with laughter instead of with fear. Laudna, embodying the tree, every inch of that usual horror creeping through her veins, except when she calls it forward this time- the mourning veil (Delilah's mourning veil), crumbles away.

The tree- not just any tree, this tree, the tree. Seeps into its place.

(And trees represent so much! Trees as regrowth, rebirth, as wisdom and endurance and roots that can choke out life and cast shade, that soak in sun, that creep like fingers, that can contain toxins and blight and ruin. That can kill. And that can nurture life, represent it. That recover and regrow, and endure, and. Grow. They grow, they change with the seasons. They are so very alive. Even after they die, crawling with bugs and organisms and potential. They're alive.)

Her form of dread takes on the elements of the tree. Still a form of dread. The form is hers. The dread is not, not anymore. (But it's under her control).

Laudna came back a little wrong, maybe, but that's how they loved her. That's how she loved herself.

She is still scary. She is fun scary. But she's still scary. Isn't that wonderful?

[farmerbebop]

Absolutely no one asked for this but I had another silly McGoohan dream last night and because that's the second dream already maybe you all can tell me if that's normal or not. 😅

It was in a very big schoolyard, completely empty except for the trees around it. McGoohan was in his later Columbo days, cleanly shaven, without any glasses. He was being knighted by the queen. Two other people were standing next to her. No one else was to be seen. McGoohan seemed like he didn't know what the hell was going on, being Irish and all, but he let it happen. Then they gave him a flag in triangle form with his name on it.

After that he went to feed the pigeons in the yard and gave one of them the flag. The pigeon flew away with it. It flew to the rooftop and dropped the flag there. I climbed up there and picked it up. Then I saw McGoohan and another young man coming up, they were trying to catch a calico cat. The young man was ahead of him. I saw the cat in the room under me, climbing up a shelf, and alerted the young man to it.

Then McGoohan arrived and looked up at the cat. I was hiding at the door to the rooftop, didn't dare to make a noise. I could see his eyes but I couldn't tell whether or not he noticed me.

Then a lady appeared and told him if he caught the cat the game would be over and asked him whether he still wanted to chase after it. He said "I don't want to chase after it. I want to grow up."

Then I was overcome by the fear that he was going to run away and I woke up.

The first dream I had was back then when I just started making stupid McGoohan videos. It was even stranger.

It was a film where in the finale two men captured McGoohan and tried to put him into a car. He was carrying some sort of water bottle in a case (obviously a gadget) and was making excuses to not get into the car. Then he stabbed one of the men with a fork from the case. But the other man stabbed him from behind with a fork too.

Then it was in a small living room. He was waking up on an armchair facing the fireplace. Next to him was a cradle with dangling toys from above. He vaguely remembered there wasn't any toy there before. Then I'm not sure whether he was falling asleep again or fainting, or dying.

Then the film ended and I had to go somewhere but I came back for the end credits because there were some scenes there too. I was on the bus with my grandma. I had some money and grandma gave me some coins and I paid the bus tickets before we got off. The bus driver found a strange coin among the ones I gave him and he said I must be going to church. But I never went to church.

Then I got to the end credits. The color was a bit strange like there was a filter over it. It was in a palace. There was a French soldier and McGoohan was some sort of an outlaw. McGoohan told him they were not so different considering the way they were both holding on to their weapon. The French soldier then tried to recall a Chinese saying and went over to an old Asian lady to ask for help with the saying. It turned out the lady did not speak Chinese. Then she left.

Then McGoohan followed her to her house. She was staying with her grandson. So McGoohan came in to see two gay men together and he was like "Oh, am I intruding?". Then the grandma came and showed him her pension papers, she started out raising pigs together with her friends and then went through all sort of jobs to find herself with a meager pension in the end.

Then he was in a park, it was full of plants and trees, almost like a jungle. He was walking among the plants towards the camera. Then words came out on screen, not in one line across the screen but appearing and disappearing all over the place, his voice-over can be heard. It was about wars or nations or something like that.

TL;DR Your poor Farmer Bebop missed the chance to talk to McGoohan in a dream last night because she was too scared. If you can do better in your dreams, please tell him I say hi and thank him for not screaming at me in my dreams, LOL.

[broadcastbabe]

My studio is my respite and workspace. It’s a converted warehouse space with large windows that seem to invite the best light for creating my paintings and sculptures. I rarely entertain, but when it becomes apparent that ‘all work and no play’ is having a dulling effect, I call on a few boy toys for a good old-fashioned orgy. My needs for a sexual recharge vary… sometimes it’s all about oral, mostly receiving, but not opposed to reciprocating with my unique and much appreciated talents… often it is possession and penetration, as if I need to be inhabited and infused by hungry young men… and then there is bondage tinged with a bit of cruelty. I am not sure why the mix intrigues and thrills me so, but I imagine it has something to do with surrendering to my lack of control. All in all, my cumming is tantamount in every scene, and my cohorts oblige my every wish with a vigor that satisfies. I clear my calendar for 24 hours, secretly hoping it will extend further into my schedule. I greet my ‘crew’ as their staggered arrival allows for some one-on-one intimacy before the next entrance. None of them are shy about sharing their own arousal for my perusal and I assure them their unique skills are going to be put to good use during our time together. There is no burden of seduction on their part, no expectations of commitment… this is to be a pleasurable day and night of unadulterated debauchery, where being over-sexed is a badge of honor to be rewarded.

I’m still dressed in my work clothes when my sandy-haired surfer arrives, barefoot and bearing a hand picked bouquet. We embrace and memories of our previous encounters flood back when the sea salt smell of his sun-kissed flesh hits my nose. He showers me with affectionate kisses and I can feel the girth of his growth swell as he pulls me to him for the contact. Backing me up against my work bench, he presses into me more insistently, murmuring of my effect on him. I grab his muscular glutes to indulge myself with a little close-quarters squirming to encourage his stiffening and fuel my size queen imagination.

The freight elevator opens to reveal our second guest. Dressed in leather, he is my obligatory bear. Introductions are refreshed from our last encounter, and they greet each other warmly, like comrades in arms. I am lifted like a feather and nuzzled with his ginger-bearded face whispering of how he has missed the flavors of me. He works his way to my cleavage and sighs as if he has returned home. Motioning to his leather valise, I’m assured he packed all my favorite toys and a few new tools he wants to introduce into the mix. He insinuates his hand past the side vent of my overalls to find me without panties and extremely moist. I tell him, I saved the lacy ones for his particular appetites… which makes him smile as he licks his lips. Finally putting me down on the work surface, he takes a knee and burrows into my fragrant lap, inhaling the sweetness that he craves.

The next arrival comes bearing gifts of top shelf whiskey, wine and weed, which elicits applause from us all. His tailored suit only hints at his physique, but I still fantasize about his rippled abs and sculpted thighs when I self pleasure. His crooked grin betrays his wicked mind and he winks at the other two with conspiratorial anticipation. I gather glasses and rolling papers, and drinks are over-poured, while I fashion spliffs of all sizes. He comes from behind for a possessive spooning hug to nibble at my neck and ears. Speaking in low tones, his hands travel to my breasts to cup and cradle them, as much for me as for his own obsession. Rolling the stiff nipples through my scant t-shirt, I gasp with joy from the sensations. He subtly thrusts himself into the cleave of my rump to introduce his glorious presence, as if I could forget. I reflexively widen my stance to welcome this first impression. His voice becomes a soft growl as he describes his intentions for my pleasure and ruination. I can’t help but purr while I make eye contact with my two other witnesses.

They patiently sip their drinks, thrilling to the display, knowing intrigued voyeurs are encouraged if not mandatory in my house. “Hello you sexy beasts, you know the ground rules…” They reply in enthusiastic unison, “There are no ground rules!” We toast with gusto and they circle around me to sniff and caress my exposed skin with glancing fingertips. “What’s up with this overdressed look, you have going on?” I step back from my pile of joints and offer one to each in the circle. “Can we help you slip out of something so comfortable?” I flick a lighter to offer a flame to their unlit smokes. “Yes please…” The surfer takes a long draw and shotguns the exhale past my lips with a deep kiss. He unlatches one shoulder strap from the bib and it falls victim to gravity as I shrug the other off. There is a hum of approval at the sight of my near exposure. I light another joint as my midriff tee is eased off my shoulders with lingering hands to caress the tingling flesh. In the next instant, the blunt edge of a glinting blade is being slowly dragged from my naval to the fabric it slices with swift ease. Startled, I gasp into another deep-throated kiss while the blade work continues to shred the remnants. There is an ominous danger hanging in the room as my nipples are menaced with direct contact… and I whimper with arousal as the chilled steel point traces my alert areolas. The knife is passed among the group to savor the faint taste of my fear and desire on its blade. I take a hit from his roach to temper my lust before moving onto my next assistant. He asks me to hold his drink, so both hands are free. I take a large gulp and wince at the smooth strength. He fondles my curves down to my hips as I light his joint and return it to his lips. He shimmies the sagging loose overalls past my derrière and slowly down to my ankles, while they marvel at the unveiled treasure. Offering his hand to help me step out of the denim puddle, he dips a finger in our whiskey to transfer the liquor to my plumped breasts and as lipstick to paint my quivering lips. Each feasts on a sampling from one of the three locations simultaneously and I am dizzied by the teamwork. Hoisted to the work bench, I'm laid back to allow pooling of each of their preferred poisons in the shallows of my pelvis. Turns are taken as I am licked, lapped and lathered with clever tongues that stray to the sweet nectars between my thighs. Some choose the liquor as a chaser, while others consider it the bracer awaiting the heady mixture of my juiciness. There is a gentleman’s agreement to forestall full penetration, and offer only teasing tongue tips inside me at this point. Prolonging the frolic is its own delicious torment for all parties involved, and I applaud their restraint to amplify my eventual releases. After quenching their thirsts, I am polished with curious hands and exploring fingers to reacquaint themselves with the terrain of my full-body exposure. Satisfied murmurs are mine as I imagine myself in a luxurious spa… or a petting zoo for curious adults. I am blindfolded and the game intensifies as I try to associate the message of the massage with the messenger in the ménage. All three decide, I deserve an initial orgasm and it should be a shared contribution. Each add a kneading finger to my tenderest nub along with kisses and warm breaths to enhance the cresting approach of my pent up lust. In no time at all, I am falling over the edge into a shivering quivering mess, and all the better for it. The blindfold is discarded and I am revitalized by the vision of all my boys thirstily cleaning up between my spread-eagle thighs.

[mynameisjag]

Back at it with Dad!Wesker and Baby!Ethan. Inspired by @sjjdkdkwo

The child was in relatively good health for a baby found by the corner store abandoned.

At least…Birkin hopes that is the actual story and Albert didn’t just take someone's kid when they had just turned around to get something off the shelf.

He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had just simply walked off with the baby in tow because he was struck with a moment of thinking something was cute, leaving behind some poor panicking parent.

The chance of either one of those possibilities being high since he did have…odd…tendencies…

There’s a small giggle that distracts the scientists enough to glance from his paperwork over to where the newly named Ethan was happily cradled in his…father's…caretaker's…arm. Albert himself seemed to have entered a state of confused curiosity as he examined the child, red eyes uncovered and his free hand gently poked at the baby’s chubby cheeks.

It was an oddly human looking scene even if they were currently surrounded by machines and experiments, just a man fascinated by the natural route of life for once instead of the twisted creation brought by their own hands.

“Well, good news, it’s a healthy baby boy! Bad news, you can’t keep him,” William doesn’t even react as those sharp eyes narrow at him, “we can’t keep a baby here.”

“I can get supplies.”

“And what? Put a crib near one of the tanks? Goodnight sweetheart, try not to let the face of death hovering above you while you try to sleep scar you for life.”

There’s a look of consideration as the other man actually looks over at one of the tanks, before glancing back down at the baby, “You do know I have a place of my own.”

“Do you? I kinda always assumed that you just hovered around in the dark corners till you decided it was time to come out.”

“I have a nice apartment, I have room for him there.”

“Whose gonna watch him while we are working?”

There’s an actual slight smile sent his way, “We can put a crib by the tanks like you suggested.”

“No, do you even know how to change a diaper or anything about children?”

...later in a parking lot...

“The fuck am I here for?!”

“You complained about me not knowing what I needed which suggests you must know what to get.”

“You manhandled me into the car, which is impressive since you did it one handed while holding a baby.”

“You are very easy to push around, your wife can give testament to that. Now, I made a list, first off diapers, where do we go in here to acquire them?”

There was a long look given to the new father, before William blinked and stares back at the store, “Do you actually shop for groceries?”

“…do you actually believe I live in a void, I do require normal necessities to function.”

“Yeah, normal people don’t say shit like that, whatever lets get this over with…”

The thought of seeing Albert mingle with the rest of the population was odd in itself, watching it happen was fucking hysterical. There was no way this man did his own shopping, that or he was just messing around with everyone and thought their reactions toward him were just funny.

“I was wrong, I’m glad I’m here, you just made that poor woman nearly piss her pants and I’ve never seen someone so angry about colorful triangles before till you.”

“The colors are atrocious and the material feels like plastic.”

“Babies like bright colors and strange shapes, their clothing and toys are supposed to be an eyesore-did you just rip that box open?!”

The only response he got was a hum and Albert putting on what looked to be a carrier that went around ones chest with Ethan happily sitting in it as the box it came out of was thrown into the buggy, “Stop looking like you’re trying to catch flies, I’ll pay for it up front, look, its tactical baby gear.”

“Tactical and baby usually don’t go together…we are going to get kicked out…”

“As long as everything is paid for, they shouldn’t care…huh, didn’t realize they made baby sunglasses…”

He was actually enjoying himself wasn’t he, holy shit, the man was enjoying this…and now there were two blondes with sunglasses on and he seemed proud that they matched.

“Okay, that is cute…but I still think we should put him back where you found him.”

And he was being ignored again as Albert started looking at bottles, frowning at the designs before going with a neutral set and tossing it in with the rest of the stuff, “We will have to go somewhere else for furniture, Ethan, do you want the stuffed alligator?”

“Your baby voice is shit.”

“Baby voice?”

“You know, the cutesy voice people use on babies, you talk to him like he’s an adult,” the scientist leaned over to get Ethan’s attention, changing his voice to a higher pitch, “hi, did you want the gator, do you wanna hold Mr. Gator?”

The result was a giggling infant making grabby hands at him while Wesker stared down at his associate with a look of distain.

“That was horrible, never do that in my presence again.”

“That’s how most people talk to babies.”

“Most people are idiots, I’m starting to believe it may start with how they are first communicated with at a young age. Refrain from ever speaking like that again so we may not take the chance of lowering both mine and Ethan’s IQ from hearing such garbage.”

“Bah!”

“See, the child agrees.”

“The child isn’t at the age to be able to agree with anyone much less your ass.”

“You are being in an arguable mood today,” there was a soft huff as the new father turned and walked off toward the diapers, “you will help me pick out the best brand.”

“I have no say in this do I?”

“You should be used to it considering your marriage.”

“…fair…”

The sense of surreal was hitting William again as they looked over the clothes, he was in a retail store with Wesker surrounded by the public, shopping for baby supplies for a child he was half sure was kidnapped. Add along their usual day to day of messing with the structure of life and death and he briefly wonders if maybe he should have became a dentist.

At least the little bunny outfit was cute…and the little bowtie…he was getting the bowtie.

“Look, he can look like a little professor!”, he goes to put it on the baby, pudgy little hands try to grab his in attempt to play with him, the bowtie goes on bit he ends up having one of his hands being gummed on, “Looks like my balding history teacher in college, sunglasses included but I think he wore them for a different kind of redeye.”

Glancing back up from where he was watching his hand get drooled over to see Wesker frowning in the direction of some woman who was doing a bad job at hiding the fact she kept staring at them from the side of her eyes.

“What’s her problem?”

“…I believe its time to go.”

“Al?”

The man moves quick even with a baby and buggy, leaving William standing there with a wet hand and confusion written on his face.

“Excuse me, sir?”, the woman from before had made her way over, frowning in the direction his friend had ran off to.

“Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”

“Oh, this is going to sound so ridiculous but…the little one looks so much like my neighbors baby boy that for a second I swore it was him-"

“-oh, no, I have the card to pay for our stuff, goodbye, have a nice day!”

He was going to kill that man!

[shorkbrian]

Omg okay uh... Nasty stalker Bakugou breaking in to his darling's home only for them to come home early to see their yandere in their room, laying in their bed. Bakugou's surprised but smug, deciding now's a better time than ever to take them away

Titled “Bakugou coming to terms with the fact he’s a nasty, nasty man.”

Prelude - this is trash. I am trash. I’ve been stuck for a bit with requests and getting motivation to write, but I’m trying to work through it and so we have this. ANEEWAYZ Anon, this is an awesome request and made me p hornee, 10/10

Prompt - at the toP

Pairing - Bakugou X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, non con, cunnilingous. No penetration. Bakugou got a HUGE scent kink lol sorry 

Music - no <3

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 Bakugou was disgusted with himself.

Here he was, a good looking male, and he was spending his free time breaking into a woman’s apartment for the hundredth time. Is it even considered “breaking and entering” if he had a key? It was a stolen key, and Bakugou knew he would still be thrown into jail if the object of his affections ever found out just how often he chose to “visit” without permission.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming back.

Turning the (stolen) key in the lock, the blonde pushed the door open, glancing towards the neighboring apartment doors before he stepped inside. It would be no good if your neighbors saw him sneaking in - they might ask you about your “new man,” and you’d get suspicious. 

Bakugou wiped his shoes on the welcome mat, quietly slipping them off and placing them on the bottom shelf of your shoe rack. He knew it was stupid, but he liked to pretend that he was coming home from work, about to slip into bed with you and feel you in his arms as you kissed him hello. Unfortunately, the reality had you still at work, making and serving fancy coffee at the little cafe you worked in, and Bakugou was nothing more than a creep, fantazing about a woman that had done little more than take his order.

Did you even know he existed? Bakugou thought you might; he did come to the cafe every Wednesday morning, sat in the chair that allowed him to see the staff as they worked. It would be hard to miss his presence, considering the scene he had caused on one of his coffee runs. A man had bumped into you as you were placing Bakugou’s coffee on the table, causing you to spill it everywhere (including on Bakugou’s lap, which had fuckin’ hurt, the liquid being hotter than the surface of the sun). Before you could even take a breath to apologize, Bakugou was on his feet, verbally attacking the man that had stumbled into you.

He really ripped into the stranger, not hesitating to use every insult he knew to demean the man for jostling you. Bakugou knew his personality was abrasive and that he had a short temper, but seeing someone touch you so casually and cause you an unnecessary hardship had him angrier than normal. By the time Bakugou was done yelling, the man was beet red, sweating, apologizing profusely to both Bakugou and you for causing any inconvenience. 

The look you had given Bakugou as the man left made his heart squeeze. Your eyes were blazing, fists clenched as you stared the blonde down, mouth set in a way that made your lips jut out in a frown.

“Sir, there was no reason to yell at that poor man. It was an honest mistake that I could’ve easily handled.”

Bakugou was shocked. 

“Yeah, a fucking “mistake” alright. Motherfucker didn’t even think to apologize before I said anything.” “I don’t need a white knight. Sit down and leave it be, or else I’ll have no problem kicking you out.”

You had been so bossy and confident, Bakugou reluctantly sat down, grumbling about his burnt junk while you went to grab napkins to clean up the spill. 

From then on, the blonde watched you like a hawk, enjoying the way you chewed out rude customers or made crude jokes with your coworkers when you thought no one was listening. He was hooked, baited by your personality into learning more about you. However, he knew that you probably wanted nothing to do with him, knew that you would probably laugh in his face if he asked for your number.

So he resorted to this.

As humiliating as it was, as wrong as he knew it to be, Bakugou enjoyed being in your apartment. Everything smelled like you, he was able to figure out your favorite snacks and dishes, got to see what you liked to read. 

The first few times he followed you home from the cafe, he told himself he was doing it for your own safety. You had such a smart mouth, lots of customers had been miffed by the way you called attention to their rudeness. It wouldn’t take much for one of them to follow you home, try to put their hands on you.   When it slowly evolved into the man breaking into your apartment, Bakugou told himself that it was just out of curiosity, even though deep down he was aware of a more sinister reason.

Even when the man went looking for your underwear drawer, he denied the action to himself, refused to think about what it meant or think about it for more than a few seconds. He refused to hold himself accountable for his feelings, nor for his actions. 

He was swimming in a sea of denial, letting his impulses and desires guide him.

 Consequences? That word wasn’t in his vocabulary when it came to his dealings with you.

What could the repercussions be? You were never home when he visited, you never knew he had been there, you never noticed him at work, never even acknowledged his existence. There had been no sign that you were aware of him following you home, following you to the store, following you to the mall. At this point, Bakugou was resigned to the fact that you would probably never notice him.

And if you did, so what? He easily had the means to take you away, keep you from ever revealing his “hobby” to the world (the more the man thought about it, the more the idea appealed).

Consequences be damned, Bakugou Katsuki did what he wanted to.

That’s why he allowed himself to go through your closet, look at your clothes and imagine you wearing them. He looked through your shoes, admiring your choices in fashion. He looked through your bathroom, noting what soaps you used and the skincare that littered the counter, the color of your toothbrush and the perfume that you saved for special occasions.

Bakugou’s favorite thing to do in your apartment was also the most shameful. It had started after a bad day, when he was already frustrated and heated. He had stormed into your apartment, and was too worked up to find the space as calming as it usually was. Bakugou had stomped towards your bedroom, wanted to bury his face in your pillows and breathe in your scent, forget about the stress of life. When he had tripped over the pile of dirty clothes in the doorway, he almost had a fit before realizing that the light blue lace on the top of the pile were your dirty panties.

His brain whispered that it was a good idea, so he acted upon his impulses and snatched them, proceeding to climb onto your bed and jack off.

Now it was a regular occurrence, him rooting through your laundry basket to find your latest pair. You were good about your laundry, so sometimes he had to settle for picking through your underwear drawer, which was notably less satisfying. Bakugou couldn’t figure out why until he thought about it for a second, coming to a riveting conclusion as he pressed your panties close to his face.

He liked the smell of you.

The man didn’t get to think about it further than that, already too worked up to do anything but pull his cock free, press your panties to his face, and fist his cock like it was the last time he’d ever get to touch himself.

Some days he would use your panties to stroke himself, bring himself to orgasm thinking about you and your body and the things he’d like to do to it. Other day’s he’d bunch your panties in his fist and press them against his face while he laid down on your bed, and he’d jerk himself off while taking in your scent.

Recently, he’d taken to spreading your panties on one of your pillows, before burying his nose into the fabric. He’d lay on his stomach and pump his cock, imagining that you were actually there, that his nose was buried in your pussy. Sometimes he’d get so lost in the fantasy that he’d start humping the bed, caught up in the smells assaulting his senses, the sensation of the bedspread dragging along his swollen cock. 

Today was one of those days where he was keyed up and just wanted to get off, bask in the cradle of your scent as he did so. So the second he entered your apartment, he was beelining for your bedroom, cock already half-hard in his pants. He was delighted to see that your laundry basket seemed fuller than yesterday, meaning that there was a fresh pair of panties that you had discarded there this morning.

He wanted to pat himself on the back for his observational skills when a quick search brought him anew pair of your dirty panties. As he headed to the bed, unbuckling his belt with one hand, he noticed that these were new, a pale pink fabric that was impossibly softer then your other pairs. Bakugou knew he wouldn’t be long today, felt like he was bursting already. It took hardly any time to get himself situated, the movements easy and familiar after having done this dozens of times already. He let his hips drop to the bed, bringing his hands up to clutch at the pillow he had laid your panties on, imagining it to be the softness of your legs he was burying his fingers into.  Bakugou buried his face into the crotch, breathing deeply through his nose as he slowly started to work his hips, the friction on his cock feeling delicious.

Bakugou was so worked up, so immersed in his fantasy that the clattering sound of dropped objects almost made him yelp, the blonde man turning his head to the side to glare at whatever had made the noise. He was so close, wanted to tip over the edge of orgasmic bliss and lie there with his face pressed to your panties for a bit before he had to clean up. How dare your neighbors thump on the wall, cause something to fall while he was busy masturbating on your bed.

His breath stuttered as his eyes settled on your figure, frozen in the doorway. 

His hips stopped moving.

You shouldn’t have been home this early.

—— There was a man on your bed.

There was an attractive man on your bed, you noted as he turned his head towards you.

There was an attractive man on your bed, sniffing your panties. You could see the pink fabric strewn across your pillow, right where the man had previously had his face. Had he been… sniffing your underwear?

If you could’ve managed not to drop your phone and keys in shock at seeing a strange man on your bed, you would be able to dial 911 before he could get up. As it stood, you were frozen in shock.

Thankfully, the man was too, doing nothing but blinking and breathing heavily. “Who the fuck are you?” You were always one to speak your mind, but in this situation, you wished you were able to act with more tact. The man blinked at you slowly, reaching his hand underneath him to - “Oh my god, your dick is out.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” His gruff voice responded. 

“I don’t know who your are, but you need to get out. Get out now or I’m calling the police.”

The man grunted as he tucked his still-hard dick back into his pants, slowly rising to his knees, moving towards the edge of the bed.

“Hey! I said you need to fucking leave. I’m - I’m gonna - “ You snatched your phone off the floor, watching the man freeze as you held it up. “- call the police. Get out of my apartment.”

“Calm the fuck down, what the fuck d’ya think I’m doing, huh dumbass?”  He held his hands up, carefully stepping off your bed. “I gotta move past you to get to the damn door, idiot.” You wanted to smack yourself. The man had a point. He seemed to be gearing to leave, trying to appear non-threatening as he inched towards you and the bedroom door. It occurred to you that you should move to the side so he wouldn’t touch you while he exited your bedroom. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your hand shook holding your phone. You put up a tough front, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel fear

“Okay, hurry up then.”

The blonde man nodded, lowering his hands as he began walking normally, watching you move to the side of the door. 

You tried to memorize his face, make sure you’d be able to describe him to the police later after you were safely alone in your apartment, door locked and reinforced with a chair-

The man tackled you to the floor, his hands wrapping around the back of your head to cushion it against the hardwood. He had taken advantage of your rambling thoughts, using your distracted state to strike when he had slunk closer in the guise of reaching the door.

You acted on instinct, immediately trying to knee the man the second you caught your breath, reaching up to claw at his face. You were in the process of going for his eyes, intending to dig in until he was screaming, but the next thing you knew you were being lifted into the air, given a giant bear hug that trapped your arms against your sides.

“Let me go! Let me go!!” You shrieked, uselessly kicking your legs against his shins. He had you pressed to his chest in a crushing hug, and the angle offered you no leverage to inflict any damage.

“Fuck, knew you were a feisty little shit. You smell so goddamn good.” He had his face buried in your hair, and you could feel the rise of his chest as he inhaled deeply. 

You were thrown on the bed, the man immobilizing you by sitting on your abdomen before you had the chance to even sit up. With a gleeful grin, he started pulling at your shirt, ripping it over your head with ease. He ignored your ear-splitting “No!” As he did the same to your bra, his calloused hands warm where they met your skin. You hit at his sides, but he hardly reacted. 

Rearranging himself so he was facing your feet, the man began working on your pants, laughing as you kicked and squirmed.

“See, this is why I fuckin’ like you so much. Got so much fight in you, won’t go down without a little bit of work.”

Your pants were removed, then your panties, which you saw the man shove in his pants pocket. It was impossible to stop him when he turned back to your head, taking his own shirt off in the process. No wonder he was hard to fight, he was incredibly ripped, fit in every sense of the word.

The man grabbed your shirt and stuffed it in your mouth, wrapping the sleeves around your head and using them to tie the fabric firmly into a makeshift gag, effectively muffling  your cursing.

As you reached up to pull it off, the man manhandled you again. He scooted back and grabbed your arms, placing them under his knees, locking his feet together into a butterfly stretch. He bent your lower half over, your knees almost touching your chest as he scooted closer, lifting your head up so he could lay it gently on his feet.

You were essentially folded in half, the man trapping your arms with his legs, your butt resting against his naked chest, his face above your exposed pussy. No matter how your thrashed or wiggled, you couldn’t break free. The man knew how to completely immobilize someone within seconds, and it scared you to no end.

You were screaming behind the gag, throat starting to hurt as you refused to quit fighting, no matter how futile it was. The man pressed his face down to your pussy, wrapping an arm around your waist to hike you up closer to his face as he inhaled, making you yell profanities behind the gag. What he was doing was gross, scary; blood was starting to rush to your head and you were so tense you thought you might blackout.

Amidst your panicked breathing, you noticed the man had paused, was staring down at you while he himself breathed heavily. You wished he wouldn’t - each breath he exhaled sent a warm puff of air across your pussy, causing your body to involuntarily clench.

“If you’d stop making so much goddamn noise, I might not have to be so rough. I get it though, you don’t know me. ‘M Bakugou.” He offered, red eyes boring into your skull. You seethed, before spitting out a “Fuck you.”. It was muffled, but the man understood your meaning, chuckling darkly. “Yeah yeah, we might get to doing that shit later.”

You yelled, only to gasp as the man suddenly buried his face into your pussy, nose pressing against your clit. He started licking immediately, warm tongue wet and textured against your slit.  

It felt good.

You didn’t want it to.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your waist was fumbling against your back, between you and Bakugou. You were too focused on what was happening to your cunt to realize that the blonde was taking his dick out again, tenderly massaging the drooling head as he breathed in your pungent scent.

Bakugou was in heaven, lapping at your juices and inhaling your natural musk. He wished he could stay here forever, holding you close as he made the both of you feel good.

He groaned into your pussy, fisting his cock faster as he plunged his warm tongue inside your hole, wiggling the muscle and scraping at your walls. You twitched, your hips trying to rock back to chase the sensation even though your mind was screaming for them to still. Bakugou brought his tongue out, before thrusting is back in, essentially fucking you with his wet tongue.

It was humiliating, terrifying as you watched him, his red eyes slitted and clouded with lust as he drank in your scared whimpers, the man liking when your eyes squeezed shut when he did something with his tongue that you found particularly pleasurable. With a lewd squelch, the man stopped tongue-fucking you, moving to flick at your clit with the muscle, rubbing it back and forth in an agonizingly good motion.

With a muffled wail, you came.

Bakugou sped up the hand around his length, pumping himself furiously as he lapped at you through your orgasm, making you writhe with pleasure. He moaned as he reached his own orgasm, warm cum shooting from his cock to paint your back.

It was only when you started to squirm from oversensitivity did Bakugou stop mouthing at your pussy.  He laid his head against your thigh, still huffing and nuzzling at your pussy like a dog trying to scent.

You felt so disgusting.

Trying to kick at Bakugou was useless in this position, especially with how weak you were from orgasming but you still tried your best before his hands gripped your thighs tightly.

“Don’t get fuckin’ testy with me now.”  He leaned closer, smiling at you darkly. “You don’t gotta worry, imma fuck you real good before I take your ass home.”

[prettyvampiress96]

The Malfoy Secret - Chapter 3

Since the traumatic death of her last living relative, Anna had since been a guest in the Malfoy manor . Although she was by now a little more than a guest. Her aunt was peacefully laid to rest and throughout the whole ordeal the Malfoys were her absolute anchor to reality. Anna however still couldn't put her thoughts in order at the situation. On one hand Anna had wanted to go home but on the other hand she rather enjoyed the company of the Malfoys. Anna had previously attempted to return home twice. The first time Anna had gone to return home , Draco begged her not to leave claiming he wanted to make the most of her company before his return to his last term of third year next week.. The second time Cissa began fretting about her wellbeing. Her being worried about Anna all alone in that big house. So Anna agreed to stay to ease Cissa's conscience but did say that she would return before her first day of work at the Ministry. What Anastasia didn't know was that she would be the right hand assistant to Lucius himself. The letter enclosing said information remained unopened in the Rosier mansion.

The following week Narcissa and Lucius bid Draco farewell at kings cross station whilst Anna was already in the Ministry of Magic for her first day along with another student from her year . Anastasia now knew that she would be working with Lucius , she was relieved at least it was someone who wouldn't judge her by her name. Though the thought of being in such a confined space with the white haired man had butterflies filling the pit of her stomach. Lucius strutted into his office in the department of Magical Law Enforcement, halting in his footsteps at the sight of his darling Anna stretching on the tips of her feet to reach a book higher up on the shelf, Lucius held back a laugh as he took in just how miniature she was even in a pair of heels. Even though he adored that about her , he couldn't help picture in absolutely nothing but those heels all stretched out for him and for cissa of course. Anna hadn't yet realised he had entered the room she was too caught up in finding the book Mr. Crouch had requested. Lucius took this as his moment . He walked as quietly as he could towards her . When Anna was in his reach, his large hands held her hips , his long fingers digging in slightly. Anna's back pressed flush against his broad chest. Leaning down to her ear. "You want my help with that darling ?" He whispered pressing himself further into the girl. Anna blushed at the feeling of his hardened member making itself known. Easily reaching for the book , his hand could reach without him even trying. "By all means you can say no and I shall just sit back and watch as that little skirt rides up more and more. Its taking I have not to throw you over my desk and worship you right here babygirl" Lucius smirked as Anastasia let out a squeak at the pet name he called her. Lucius brought the book down to Anna's eyesight, offering it out to her , Anna still pressed against the overly large shelf. Before Anna could respond in walked Narcissa. Narcissa drank in the scene in front of her , the sight of her husband and hopefully her soon to be princess. Anastasia's face flushed a deep red as she resisted the urge to run into Cissa's arms. " My darling how lovely of you to join us isn't that right princess?" Lucius turned to face cissa while slipping a wink to Anna. "I .. Uh..you...I should get this book to Mr. Crouch " she said shyly unsure of how to respond , after all neither of them had spoken since her and cissa kissed. Anna couldn't help wondering is Narcissa regretted it. Bowing her head Anna moved to rush from the room. "WAIT, STOP" Narcissa called after her smiling as annas feet immediately come to a halt." Hurry back darling there's something we should all talk about". Anna nodded in response quickly exiting the room. Anastasia walked with the book in her arms just down the hall, knocking respectively , Anna awaited permission before entering. " Mr Crouch I'm terribly sorry if I am interrupting I'm just bringing the book you requested from Mr Malfoy" Anastasia informed showing the book as if she needed the proof. "Ah right yes, good good I do believe you may have just missed crossing paths with our young Mr Weasley. He took it upon himself to retrieve that book . A good boy he is . If that is all Miss Rosier I am rather busy I'm afraid" Mr Crouch, the minister of Magic himself said without raising so much as his head. Anna walked back to Lucius's office , the sound of her heels clacking with every step, when suddenly body blocks her way. "You know you'd think the slimy Slytherin's would crawl back into their holes rather than working for the Ministry . Your father was a blind fool to follow the dark lord . Tell me what would daddy think of his daughter now. Oh no thats right he got himself killed before you could wipe the drool from your chin? " Percy Weasley sneered at her . Anastasia's blood fuelled an inferno of rage and Percy was about to get a taste of the fire. Passer's by began to stop and watch while office doors seemed to open for the fellow workers to do the same. Annas eyes glazed over and she smiled a

sweet smile. " Don't you ever speak of my family in that way do you hear me ? You want to know what my 'daddy' thinks , insult me again and you'll be finding out" Anna threatened in a low voice her wand drawn and pressed into the younger Weasleys throat. Lucius Malfoy was the first to intervene , his hand pushing anna's armed one down. He ushered the furious girl into the office and she slowly began following. " Enjoy freedom while you can I'm sure they've got a cell in Azkaban with your family's name on call it an heirloom. As cold, dark narcissistic murderers run in your family dont they. When you slip up Rosier and you will . I will be the one to put you there myself" Percy shouted at her back. Taken off guard Percy hadn't expected Anna to throw 'stupefy at him knocking him down the hall by a few good feet . " Funny that if I'm to go to Azkaban it'll be for killing you. You're a no good blood traitor and yet you think you actually have the audacity to think you stand a chance against me. I know spells your mother couldnt even dream of mastering . You think you can talk about my family when you know absolutely nothing . I'll escort myself to Azkaban right now once I've sent your cold body to your mother. That dark enough for you saint Percy? Anna fumed her wand raised . Arthur Weasley emerged from the crowd , his wand drawn protecting his son. Lucius drew his wand and stood directly in front of Anastasia.

"Princess go, back to the office head held high cissy is there and I'll be right behind you "Lucius whispers so low only Anastasia could hear it. Anna nods confirming she had indeed heard his words but she was reluctant to walk away. When Lucius firmly commands her once again to go as she reaches the offices, she can already feel the tears fill her eyes and the burning sensation in her chest. Anna just wanted to scream . Instead she shuts the door and walks to her desk with her head down. Realisation hitting her like a tonne of bricks Anna slides down the nearest wall. Narcissa immediately running to the sobbing girl sitting next to her , Cissa cradled anna against her chest, rocking slightly whilst rubbing a hand soothingly on the black haired girls back.

"I'm not a bad person I've followed every rule. I've never put a foot wrong yet I'm still painted with the same brush as my father am I destined to be alone. Perhaps Azkaban is the best place for someone with a name like mine". Lucius having now dealt with the pathetic Weasleys returns just as Anna sobs those words. Seeing her so broken and seeing his wife so affected at those words only tempted Lucius to go back and seriously damage the disrespectful boy. Weighing his options, nothing was more important than his family and as of that his girls needed him. Narcissa who was still holding Anna raised her head to look at her husband , she tilted her head to the side silently asking what had happened out there.

He ushered Narcissa over to him which she does hesitantly. Torn between leaving Anna and finding out what had occurred . Narcissa's curiosity got the best of her. "Anna I'll be right back darling" Narcissa whispered assuringly. Lucius explains in a hushed whisper briefly what happened. Narcissa can't believe what she's heard. How could someone say something so cruel about her baby girl. Lucius made his way over to Anna and bent down, lifting her chin up to face him. " Don't you ever let me hear say that about yourself . We would never allow you to be put in that wretched place. A name does not define you. That boy knows nothing. He is nothing. You are my everything. Our everything " he would say pulling cissa to him as she steps nearer not wanting to scare Anna . "I'm yours. Like both of you?" Anna questioned back , her green eyes wide and her pink lips pouted in slight confusion. " Why don't we all go back home a discuss this over a drink hmm?" Cissa hinted holding her hand out for her husband and Anna to take .

They arrive back at Malfoy Manor and Anna takes a seat on the sofa in the front room with Cissa sitting on one side of her and Lucius on the other side. Lucius gently takes one of Anna’s hands in his and with the other hand gently turns her head to face him “Anna I meant what I said earlier you are our everything and I want to discuss you becoming apart of our relationship” He nods at Cissa before continuing “There is no pressure Anna, you can say no and we’ll respect your decision. It won’t affect our working relationship either.” Anna doesn’t respond straight away, feeling a little shocked at his offer. “Should you agree to be with us boundaries would be set in place, which leads me to my next question. What are your boundaries Anna?” Lucius’ voice soft as he looks into her eyes.

“I don’t have any boundaries as I’ve never done this before” Anna answers honestly as she holds his gaze for a moment before looking down at her lap, a look of confusion washes over his face “Anna had never been kissed before I kissed her two weeks ago” Cissa explained. Lucius places his fingers under Anna’s chin lifting her head up “Just to confirm Anna, you are a virgin?” She nods at him and feels her cheeks heat in a light blush. “We’ll take things nice and slow; we’ll go at a pace that suits you…if you agree to be ours that is.” Lucius tells her with a smile on his lips and Anna couldn’t help herself, she looked down at his mouth and licked her lips. Cissa nods agreeing with her husband “We will look after you. You will be safe with us…always” Cissa took hold of Anna’s other hand in hers and begun rubbing small soothing circles on the back of her hand with her thumbs.

Anna looks between Cissa and Lucius before speaking “I’d like to be yours, both of yours but I’m worried I cannot offer you much in return” Cissa turns Anna’s head so she is looking at her “Just by agreeing to be with us is giving us more than you can imagine. All we want to do is to make you feel loved, safe and of course pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams” Cissa smiles and leans forward pressing her lips to Anna’s in a quick but sweet kiss.

“If we overstep a boundary or you start to feel uneasy or anything just tell us. In fact, to be sure we are all comfortable with this arrangement I recommend we use safe words” Lucius said softly, his breath warm against her ear “Safe words?” Anna asked shyly and he chuckled lightly “Ahh so innocent my sweet girl” His fingers brushing her hair aside as he placed a soft kiss to her neck before continuing “Each of us picks a word that once spoken the others know enough is enough. The moment the word is spoken everything stops…straight away, no questions or explanations needed” Anna turned her head slightly so she was looking at him over her shoulder “I’d like to be yours, both of yours” He smiled at her before capturing her lips with his.

Lucius and Narcissa both hand in hand with Anastasia began escorting her up the winding black marble case not stopping until they reached the door to the master bedroom. Both Malfoys stood watching Anna's reaction as Lucius twisted the handle of the door pushing it open , allowing Anna the first step inside. Anastasia was in awe at the decoration. With a flick of his wrist Lucius had set candles alight causing a rather romantic atmosphere. Anna's hand was still laced with Cissa's, she was reminded off that when Narcissa squeezed her hand. " What do you think babygirl?" Cissa asked brushing a loose strand of Anna's hair from her face, leaning in she placed a soft kiss on Anna's lips . "It's beautiful Cissy . It really is" Anna breathed looking behind her for Lucius. When Anastasia noticed him still stood by the door only now minus his dress shirt , she reached her hand towards him wanting to touch . Lucius noticed Anna's hesitation and stepped into her reach, taking her hands he placed them on the centre of his broad chest. Anna's hands ran up over his bare shoulders and linked around his neck attempting to pull him down to her level due to the height difference. Anna could feel his intoxicating scent overwhelm her and she took the plunge pressing her lips to his . His kiss was different to that of Cissa's it was rougher and more dominant . Lucius's hands reached over the curves of Anna's ass and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he walked them to the bed . A naked Narcissa joined the pair , running her fingers up anna's bare legs causing anna gasp allowing Lucius access to her tongue . Anastasia pulled back from her make out session , glancing at Narcissa, her eyes tracing over the perky nipples of her breasts. Anna's mouth ran dry . She had no idea what she wanted but god that woman was it. " Remember Darling we can stop whenever you like , tonight is all about you my pretty babygirl , mommy and daddy will make you feel so good I promise princess you just have to trust us" Narcissa spoke softly tapping her finger on the top button of anna's shirt. " Can mummy take this off baby " Cissa cooed , anna nodded and proceeded to remove the shirt herself only for cissa to stop her. "Let mommy do it angel please" Cissa asked again this time Anna nodded and allowed cissa to removed her top. Narcissa dropped the shirt to the floor her eyes never looking away from Annas full breasts, leaning forward cissa placed a wet kiss to the tops of her breasts. Ana in response arched her back unaware that her hips had rocked against the very non discreet package in Lucius's trousers. Narcissa's hands travelled lower and lower until they reached the waistband of the very tight skirt Anna had on. Cissa's fingers hooked into the band but waited for permission from Anna . "Princess Mommy's waiting for you "Lucius whispered in Anna's ear. Anastasia nodded fervently glancing down and the sight of a naked Narcissa between her thighs . Anna couldnt peel her eyes away. In a split second her skirt and panties were removed , Anna's core now slick and bare to Cissa who licked her lips in delight at the prize in front of her . "We can stop if you want to little princess, you just have to say and we promise we wont be disappointed in the slightest or should mommy continue" Lucius reminded . " No please Don't stop please dont stop "Anna pleaded . Her pleas were music to their ears. Lucius interlocked his fingers with Anna's , watching over anna's shoulder as his wife's head leant even closer to Annas blazing sex. Narcissa hummed as she dragged a finger through Anna's wet folds, shivering at the breathless gasp she made in response. Narcissa placed a soft kiss to either side of Anastasias inner thigh before connecting her warm tongue to her wet pussy. Anna's hips rose from the emerald sheets , her head thrown back into the crook of Lucius's neck and her grip on his hands getting tighter. " Is mummy making you feel good baby girl ? Let us hear those beautiful noises of yours petal" Lucius teased in advance. Anna mewled , feeling

an unfamiliar weight in the pit of her stomach. Narcissa continued flicking the sensitive bud while she introduced a single finger into Anna's tight hole preparing to stretch her out for Lucius. Slowly and gently Cissa began thrusting that finger in and out in time with the flicking of the bud . With her fingers getting so slick from Anna's running juices , cissa added a second finger and with every thrust in began spreading them apart . Anna's walls began to clench around Cissa's fingers locking them in place and her thighs tightening pulling cissa closer than she was. " Oh Oh Oh " Anna screamed as she rode her first ever climax down on Narcissa .Anna felt shifting from behind her as Lucius moved himself from the bed taking Cissa's place between Anna's thighs. Climbing above her Cissa placed a kiss to Anna's lips. "You did so well darling mummy's so proud of you. Does Daddy want a taste do you think? " Narcissa beamed down at her baby all glistening in sweat , glancing to her husband smirking. Lucius's hand reached across grabbing cissa at the chin, passionately kissing his wife all the while tasting the sweet nectar of his princess on her tongue. At some point during the exchange Lucius had removed his remaining clothing. Lucius tapped on Anna's thighs grabbing her attention. Narcissa sat near Annas head now it was her turn to watch the faces her baby pulled whilst screaming from the pleasure she was receiving. " Princess you need to listen just for a minute okay? Are you sure this is what you want? I won't lie to you my girl it might be a little uncomfortable at first but that passes. Are you absolutely sure?" Lucius needed to make her aware he'd never forgive himself if he hurt her . " Please I trust you Daddy I'd like to try. Help me try" Anna begged her voice sounding like a whine. Lucius wrapped his hand around his painfully hard cock swiping the pre-cum from the swollen head to lubricate it slightly. The combination of that and Anna's cum should be just enough.

As he slowly began to ease into her, Anna's walls clenched around him as a pained groan leaves her throat. Digging her nails into his shoulders as she squeezes her eyes shut tight, Anna's body tenses against his when he comes to a stop. His body trembling as he fights the lust inside him to thrust into his pretty little princess .When the pain starts to subside Anastasia slowly moves her hips .

"Please " was all Anna could muster out. Lucius takes her thigh and places it on his hip as he starts to slowly move against her . Quickly finding a steady rhythm, as his hips roll against hers both moving in perfect harmony , Anna could feel every thrust against her walls. Her nails leave red half-moon crescents on biceps. Narcissa sat back observing couldnt help but reach down and began circling her own clit. His name falls from Anastasia's mouth like a prayer when he finds that specific spot inside of her . "Fuck, Princess , you feel so good around Daddy" he moans as he thrust faster into her , pleasure invaded her senses as her vision begins to cloud , with her head thrown back Anna can no longer keep the moans inside of her . An inferno rages inside of her , Her hands fall from his arms to grasp at the sheets with such a force her knuckles began turning white. "Papi, I'm..." she moans out. " Let it go baby I'm here Daddy's here" Lucius coaxed. Anastasias walls enclosed around Lucius's cock , her nectar coating his manhood. With a last thrust into her Lucius emptied his load filling his princess up to the brim. Gently removing himself from inside her , Lucius laid to the right of Anna enclosing her in his arms, Narcissa laid to the left of Anna . "Our princess did absolutely perfect wouldn't you say so dear?" Narcissa asked Lucius. "Oh i couldn't agree more darling. How are you feeling Princess?" Lucius asked Anna. The three of them an entanglement of limbs. Until Narcissa rose from the bed and into the large bathroom followed by the sound of running water. " Come on Darling let us clean you up and put you in something comfy before you fall asleep" Narcissa commented. Anna however was quite tired and comfy as she mumbled incoherent words from where she was. Lucius scooped her up into his arms and took her into the bathroom himself. Narcissa already in the bath, held her arms out as he lowered his princess down into her lap. A scent of lavender and camomile filled their senses. Lucius lathered up a sponge and glided it over every inch of Anastasias body. Anastasia snapped from her dazed state smiling at both Lucius and Narcissa. Before putting her head down and playing with her fingers , a sign they had already noticed when she was nervous or embarrassed. " Princess Is everything alright darling? Are you hurt or in pain?" Cissa asked concerned she may be hurt . " No no nothing like that I was urm well I just wondered could I stay with you two tonight?" Anna asked so quietly that if they had been any further away they wouldn't have caught it. "Of Course you sweet girl you were always going to sleep in with us . We wouldn't have it any other way. Now why dont you let mommy wash your hair whilst daddy gets out and fetches you something comfy eh?" Narcissa said softly to Anna pulling her in for a cuddle in the warm water. With the girls dressed in Narcissa's nightgowns , Lucius had made a mental note to have cissa and anna go shopping soon. Lucius had already pulled back the covers and slid in, waiting for his girls to come out. "Which side should I sleep?" Anna asked Narcissa. They hadn't discussed that yet. " Why dont you sleep in the middle darling so that way we can both hold you" Lucius offered. Anna scrambled into bed followed by Cissa. Cissa took hold of Annas hand and kissed the knuckles.

"I'm so happy you agreed to be ours our darling girl "Narcissa expressed. Lucius turned on his side facing Anna and Cissa draping his arm across the both of them in a protective manner. " I love you both my precious girls" Lucius said lovingly. The three slept in each others embrace for the rest of the night.

[tamagochiie]

doing groceries w/ the msby four

character roster: sakusa kiyoomi, bokuto kotaro, hinata shoyo, atsumu miya 

genre: fluff, just a little angst (in bokuto’s part), established relationship 

a/n: i broke my glasses today, so i had to go out and get it fixed, but my favorite eye glasses store went MIA. so not only am i blind, but i’m also sad as hell. but i was able to think of a cute lil one shot while i was walking around the grocery store. 

also please don’t mind if there’s a few grammar errors uwu 

-- sakusa kyoomi 

the exact same way your mom holds your hand while wandering around the store is exactly what he’ll do to you

he doesn’t want you wandering away from him or accidentally break something he’ll have to end up paying for

the latter can be blamed on the one (and only) time he and bokuto did groceries together; tiny baby couldn’t stop touching things, he ended up breaking a vase

he also doesn’t want you catching other people’s germs

the whole ordeal gives him anxiety 

“Kiyoooomi~,” You whine, trying to slip away from his grip only to have him tighten it. You grumble your distaste for your boyfriend’s attitude. 

It’s been a whole hour since you’ve stepped into the store and he hasn’t let you go since. And though you usually wouldn’t mind it, the urge to pee comes to you in a surprise and you’ve been wanting to go to the bathroom for the last twenty minutes. 

But it’s not like your boyfriend cares enough to spare you a moment alone to alleviate yourself. He’d rather you wait a little longer until you get home, but his painstakingly slow pace down the aisle has you internally screaming. 

He’s got one hand tightly threaded between your fingers and the other pushing the cart. His eyes scan over the many canned vegetables before him, ignoring your protest and complaints. 

“You’re usually annoying about wanting to hold my hand,” He says through his mask, sighing deeply. “I’m hurt you all of a sudden wanna let go.” 

You glare at him and his cheap attempt to make you feel guilty. “You and I both know exactly why you’re holding my hand, and it’s got nothing to do with affection.” 

You squeeze your thighs together, doing a little dance to calm the urge to pee. Your eyes burn holes into your Sakusa’s skin and you hope its enough to make him uncomfortable, but he takes it well. 

“We’re almost done,” He tells you, taking a can off the shelf with his free hand. “I just need to get tissues and then we’re--”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi, if you don’t let me go right this second, I’ll pee on your hand right here, right now!” 

Without a second thought, he slaps your hand out of his hold, grimacing at you and your threatening words, muttering words of disgust beneath his mask as you sprint to the nearest restroom. 

-- bokuto kotaro 

you have to remind bokuto not to touch things before you leave the house AND before you get into the store

mans will touch every thing he sees without QUESTION;

shiny pan? cute little bear shaped spoons? anime themed plates? he’ll pick it up, bring it up to the light to inspect it, and because his hands are naturally sweaty, he might break a few

and you’re wallet runs dry by the time you walk out of that store

“That’ll be an extra 2,581 yen.” The cashier holds her hand out as you place your money onto the palm of your hand. It takes everything in you not to grab a shard of glass and dig it into your boyfriend’s thigh. 

You nod curtly before grabbing the rest of your bags and exiting the store. 

Bokuto shadows over you, but still gives you enough space to breathe. He’ll hover his hands over yours, trying to taking a couple of weight from your grasp as you walk back to the car but you shift away. 

He pouts. The rest of the walk is dead silent, but even you can hear the little whines in his heart, all the mental kicking he’s giving himself for doing exactly what you told him not to do. 

He’ll help you pack the groceries into the car, and you leave him to do the rest and get inside the car, sitting in the passenger seat. You feel the car wobble when he closes the trunk and sits beside you soon after. 

Like a dog with it’s ears, Bokuto’s hair falls down to his face. You begin to feel bad for giving him a bit of the cold shoulder, but you told him not to touch the plate, to put it back. But Bokuto being Bokuto, he couldn’t help but pick it up, inspect it, and even scratch the little paintings of the oranges to check if there was a scent. 

And because he’s clumsier than ever, he dropped it while twirling it in his hands. Which leads you to now. 

The soft hum of the car fills the dead air between you both. Bokuto shyly glances at you, still pouting. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you rest your head back. 

You feel him take your hand, tracing circles over it before he brings it up against his cheek. He presses little kisses onto you skin, mumbling a string of apologies. 

You turn your head, flicking your eyes open to meet his eyes, tears brimming at the waterline. 

You bring your other hand to cup the other side of his face, your smile lopsided as you feel your boyfriend trembling in your hold. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, eyes averting away from yours and not the material of your jeans. “I’m really sorry for breaking something again...” 

“My little love,” You sigh, your warm breath fanning against his blushing cheeks. “What am I gonna do with someone as clumsy as you? You’re gonna make me broke, Bo.” 

He smiles at the nickname, assuring him he’s still within the safety of you love. “So you don’t hate me?” 

You bring his forehead close to yours so he can hear you loud and clear when you say, “I’ll never hate you, but if you end up breaking another thing, I’ll cut up all your volleyball jersies. Understood?” 

Its a shaky laugh that leaves his lips, but he nods his head. “Understood. 

-- atsumu miya 

you’ll find him in the fresh produce section

he’s knocking against the watermelon with a tight fist, and you think its pretty cute of him putting effort into looking for fresh fruit 

but in reality he has no clue what he’s doing 

he’s seen osamu do it before and he’s always wanted to try 

you eventually catch onto the gimmick when he starts slapping the mangos, too 

You chew onto the bottom of you lip, using all the energy you have left from wandering around looking for Atsumu to bite down your urge to laugh. 

Your boyfriend looks quite serious, gaze fixed at the mango cradled in the palm of his hand. He slaps it a few times before bringing it up to his ear, listening to it as if there’s a whole ocean speaking to him. 

He’s oblivious to the judging glances and amused stares, too absorbed whatever it is he’s doing. 

You want to stop him, call his name so you can both head to check out. But the scene unravelling before you is too funny--even more so when he puts the mango down and reaches for the apple, slapping it as well before pressing it against his ear. 

You know you shouldn’t, but you pull out your phone to take a picture, immediately sending it to Osamu. You quietly accept the fate of future you before calling out to your boyfriend. 

-- hinata shoyo 

he’s kinda like bokuto except he knows not to test you 

but he is the type to add a bunch of things in the cart that you weren’t planning on buying

you won’t even notice until you’re at the check out counter

and he’ll justify every single thing he’s put in the cart 

“Shoyo, no.” You glare at him, resting your hands onto your hips as you scold him in the middle of the check-out counter. The poor cashier tries to mind her business as you and your childlike boyfriend bicker over which items go and which stay. “Why the hell do we need a glow in the dark flashlight? We have still have a perfectly good one at home!” 

“Yes, but this one’s my favorite color!” You feel your eye twitching at his counter argument, not entirely sure if you’re talking to a kid or your adult boyfriend. “AND how are you gonna find the flashlight in the dark? If we get the glow in the dark one, it’ll be easier to find!” 

You hear a quiet mumble of agreement coming from the cashier and the people behind you. A very soft, “Well, he’s got a point,” hanging above you. 

You pinch your nose, sighing heavily as you near your defeat. But you don’t want to give in just yet. “Shoyo, we can’t buy everything in this cart.This is all way too much.” 

His smile falters and you roll your eyes. You pick out the foot cream from the cart, “Why do you need this? You already have one at home.” 

“But they didn’t have coconut before.” He replies, not at all sensing your irritation. 

You dig your hand back into the pile, reaching for anything random. You bite into your cheek when you see what’s in your hand. Hinata opens his mouth to protest, but you speak before he can even mutter a sound. “No.” 

“But--” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“But it’s so cute!” 

“Hinata Shoyo, I will not bring another cat themed item into my house just because your best friend tells you to!” 

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

most memorable: angel fic, when Buck wraps his wings around Eddie to keep him safe when they shared bed together during pandemic and at the end of the fic too. idk there is just *something* about that scene that makes my heart skip a beat

Oh my God no this delights me to the ends of the earth adlfjasdlfkladjfs that entry into the monsterfucker series was. Honestly the only one that had everything to do with emotions and wasn't just about being uh. Horny AF for monsters. LOL I don't know? who all remembers this? but there was a time when angel/human romances were everywhere in YA and it kinda left a lasting impression. The idea of an angel's wings as the manifestation of their true self while in human form, and an angel wrapping that true self around you to keep you safe from harm, literally ready to die to protect you... IT DOES SOMETHING TO ME MAN I DON'T KNOW. It's about being literally cradled in love it's about your partner putting your safety before their very existence it's about a being designated as a representation of all that is Good deciding that you are worthy of their protection it's about the complete devotion--

Anyway given Eddie's background and personal issues and trauma, and who Buck is as a person, I felt like the angel/human AU dynamic just perfectly fit them - not only in how Buck loves Eddie, but in how Eddie feels to be loved by Buck. I feel like if Eddie were to pick one of those YA novels up off the shelf in a bookstore and read it, he'd connect with it because to him that's exactly what being loved by Buck feels like. Not in the sense that Buck is perfect, but in the sense that Buck's greatest and most fundamental personality trait is his deep desire and ability to love and to help others, and how blown away Eddie is to be loved by someone like that.

I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THEM OKAY.

Oh also fun fact! I forgot to add! That scene with Eddie getting shot was also partially inspired by a scene in Lucifer where he manifests his wings (that he thought he’d lost centuries ago when he Fell) to shield Chloe from a hail of bullets and saves her life (while his wings get torn to shreds). Obviously Buck did not get hit with a hail of bullets but that moment was definitely in my mind when writing the shooting scene.

My rambling aside I am truly so glad that scene(s) stuck with you. They gave me a lot of emotions while writing them and that whole concept makes me feel some kinda way so I'm delighted I could convey all that to you as a reader.

[unbridgeabledistances]

Prompt: About the 87% scene. Could you write about Mickey lying about having a "boyfriend" when he was in Mexico. And telling Ian that afterall he didn't have his whole Heart because of that "boyfriend". Ian realizing that the way he said those things weren'te the best. Then the confrontation, they talk about it and are cute with one another

anon i am CRYING mickey would 1000% do this!!! why did the writers not make this happen

(actually i’m glad they didn’t, bc these boys don’t need any more drama)

here’s my take (since we all need a little gallavich before the next episode!), hope u enjoy<3

--

“I guess everyone I’ve been with gets a little piece of my heart”

Mickey froze where he was standing, by the toilet bowl and the dust-covered bathroom shelves, and felt his heart sink. The fuck is he talking about?

“Wait, everyone?”

“Yeah. Yup.” Ian froze for a moment, his toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not everybody. You don’t feel the same way?”

Mickey could almost wince. Fucking Gallagher—didn’t Ian know he was the only guy Mickey had really been with, because Ian was the only one that mattered? Instantly, Mickey thought back to all of the sloppy and excruciatingly boring hookups he’d had with women—back before he came out and was constantly putting on a show, was burying who he really was deep beneath the ground.

Ian looked at him earnestly, toothbrush still half in his mouth, with those steady green eyes Mickey could always get lost in—the only thing keeping Mickey afloat during those darker days, when he felt like everything else was pulling him under. Ian was the only person who had ever made Mickey’s heart race or his palms sweaty, the only fucking person who made Mickey feel like he was here for a reason, no matter what bullshit life threw at him. Ian was the center of Mickey’s existence, and he always had been—how could that asshole not realize that no one else Mickey’d been with could ever compare to him?

“No, I don’t. Y’know what, fuck you” is what Micket wanted to say—he felt the words about to launch off the tip of his tongue. Instead, before he knew what he was doing, Mickey lied.

“Uhhhhh. I guess, man. Y’know, I had that thing down in Mexico with, uh, Julio.” Mickey looked down at his bare feet on the tiled bathroom floor, knowing that Ian would see right through him if he looked directly in his eyes.

Ian’s eyebrows raised in genuine confusion as he leaned over the sink. “Julio? Who the fuck is Julio?” Ian sputtered as he spit out a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

“Were you not listening, smartass? He was my… my lover. I was in Mexico a long time before I snitched on the cartel and threw my life away for your ass.”

Ian stood up and placed his toothbrush in a cup on the shelf above the sink, turning to look at Mickey, who finally raised his gaze from the linoleum. Ian didn’t look hurt, which was what Mickey was aiming for— more than anything, Ian just looked thoroughly confused, and maybe a little bit amused.

“You’ve never mentioned anything about some dude named Julio, Mick. Where’d you meet him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Gallagher.”

Mickey stormed out of the bathroom, and turned the corner into their bedroom. It was this fucking quarantine, that was the problem—the same way that they were down each other’s throats when they were cramped together in a tiny jail cell. They were so used to the lack of each other that being together always seemed to make a mess of things. Ian didn’t actually mean that he had been in love with other people— right?

People annoyed Mickey, mostly— sex was sex, just another bland part of his bland life of doing runs for his dad, living in his fucked-up household, getting drunk with his brothers. And then one day, Ian came bursting through his door. Mickey would never forget that first time that he and Ian were together— in his opinion, that day probably permanently altered his brain chemistry or some shit. The day that he was laying in bed, woken up by a pale-faced angel whose chest was just as smooth and beautifully pale and freckled as the skin on his face and hands. And Mickey was also covered with skin, that was apparently covered with super-powered nerve endings that hadn’t done a goddamn thing his whole life, but came alive like ice and fire and bee stings as soon as Ian touched him. Wherever Ian touched him.

Sex was just sex to Mickey, for so long—but sex with Ian was on an entirely different plane of existence.

And the thought of Ian being like that with someone else, especially during that time when Mickey was locked up and there was a wall of plexiglass between them, a wall Mickey had put there himself when all he was doing was trying to protect Ian from Sammi’s bullshit; well, it made Mickey’s stomach churn.

Ian followed Mickey out of the bathroom and leaned on the doorframe of their bedroom, like he knew Mickey needed some space. “You and this Julio guy, you were like, together?”

Mickey kept his gaze downward as he put on a wrinkled shirt. “Hell yeah, man. We lived in a shack by the beach, fucked all day long. You don’t know everything about me, Gallagher.”

“I guess not.” Ian mused, still looking like he half didn’t believe Mickey. “So, uh. This Julio guy. You’re saying he has a piece of your heart?”

“Oh yeah, a big ol’ chunk of it. You aren’t special, Gallagher. In fact, he might have a bigger piece than you do, with all the fucking bickering we’ve been doing lately,” Mickey spat out as he pulled on his shoes.

Ian rolled his eyes, but sensing Mickey’s tension, he kept talking. “Mick, you know I didn’t mean it. You have the majority of my heart. The vast majority.”

Mickey scoffed, feeling more pissed off than ever. “Oh, yeah? How much is that, exactly?”

“I don’t know… 87%?”

Mickey looked at Ian, charging up for a fight. “Fuck you. That’s not enough.”

“It is enough, Mick. I’ve been with so many people I can barely remember their names. You know what it was like at the club. That’s 87% for you, and 13% for every other meaningful connection I’ve ever had in the years we were apart—that seems pretty stacked to me.”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on you, motherfucker, because you don’t even have that much of my heart, anyways. In fact, maybe I’ll go back down to fucking Mexico and see if Julio’s still around.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Mick, calm down. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, asshole. Excuse me for thinking I had your whole heart, instead of pissing away 13% of it while I was locked behind bars and tattooing your fucking name onto my chest.” Mickey turned to where Ian was blocking the doorway. “You gonna let me through?”

Ian sighed, gently putting a hand up to Mickey’s chest to stop him from barreling past into the hallway. “Okay, listen, all that shit came out wrong. You know you’re the only one that matters.”

Mickey looked at Ian’s hand on his chest, then looked up and to meet Ian’s gaze. “Do I?” he said, in a softer voice than he realized.

Ian smirked, and let his arms glide up Mickey’s chest and around his shoulders, locking him in close. “Hey. Of course you are. You’re the only one I ever wanted to be with forever.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey said earnestly, but he didn’t try to shake himself from Ian’s grasp.

Ian let his hands roam up to cradle the back of Mickey’s head in his hands, making sure he had Mickey’s undivided attention. “Listen. All those people, like Ned or Kash or whoever, they were all an important part of me becoming who I am, and nothing can change that. But they’re all a part of our love story, Mick. They’re all… minor characters, on the path of me getting to marry you.”

Now Mickey was the one rolling his eyes, his tough exterior finally starting to melt. “Yeah, okay softie.” His eyes flickered downward, in one last moment of vulnerability. “It’s just… it’s hard to forget all the stuff I missed out on, all the time we both coulda had. Time where you were with other people and not me.”

Ian pecked Mickey’s forehead, holding him in close. “Yeah, well, we have plenty of time now. Almost too much time. So much time that we’re ripping each other’s heads off.”

Mickey leaned back, and smirked. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we can do with all that time on our hands, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian leaned in closer, Mickey’s face millimeters from his. “Oh yeah?”

As Mickey leaned in to close the gap between their lips, he felt the nerve endings all over his body going fucking crazy again—maybe it had been a bumpy path for them both, and maybe he’d lost some of Ian along the way, but he couldn’t deny that this was worth the wait.

[winchester-fantasies]

Day in the Life of Sam Winchester

Summary: The title says it all.... ❤️

Word Count: 2802

Warnings: smut, fluff, swearing, and just general feels all around ❤️

Pairing: Lawyer!Sam x Female!Reader

A/N: This was written for an anonymous request: Please write something au with Sam where he is a lawyer and like the family life or something 🥺 you can include smut if you want 😏 Thank you for your request! I am seriously in love with this one and I hope you enjoy as much as I do!! ❤❤

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

A piercing ring broke through the haze of sleep and Sam groaned, reaching over to the nightstand and groping across the table before finding the alarm clock. He pressed the OFF button, falling back against his pillow and throwing an arm over his eyes. He sighed deeply, willing himself to get up. He had a big case coming up, and he needed to be at the office earlier today to go over things with his client.

He finally removed his arm from his face and cracked open his eyes, turning his gaze to the window where sunlight streamed through the open curtains his wife had opened like she did every morning. He gingerly climbed out of bed, his feet hitting the cool tile of the floor before he made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself and throw water on his face to wake himself up a little more.

He walked downstairs, yawning as he took the last step down. Sounds emanated from the kitchen and he followed them, stopping when he got to the archway. He smiled, leaning against the wall as he watched the scene before him. (Y/N) stood in her pajamas, hair thrown haphazardly atop her head, and slippers on her feet as she stood in front of the stove, the smell of pancakes and eggs wafting towards him.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky with (Y/N). He had been a sophomore in college, studying law, when he had met her. She was right out of high school, young, vivacious and intent on following her passion for teaching. They had fallen into a study routine, becoming best friends until they realized there was more between them. When he’d asked her to marry him a few months after he’d graduated, she had immediately said yes. They had embarked on the new adventure together, him getting established at a local law office and her finding a job at an elementary school.

She had taught for a few years until they found out she was pregnant, and she decided to quit teaching, at least for a little while, so she could stay at home and raise Aspen. (Y/N) was an amazing mother, and Sam thanked the gods above for bringing her into his life.

He was brought back to the present as she moved to open the cabinet above her, taking down a plate from the shelf and taking a pancake from the pan, depositing it onto the plate. Sam pushed away from the wall, quietly walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She jumped and jerked her head back to look behind her. Her startled expression faded, replaced by a grin. “Good morning, handsome,” she greeted, tilting her head up just enough to meet him for a kiss.

“Morning,” he murmured beside her ear, his breath ruffling her hair.

“You hungry?” she asked, turning to turn off the burner to the eggs.

“I am,” Sam said. “But not for food,” he added, his voice dropping an octave.

(Y/N) turned in his arms, cocking an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Sam hummed, a salacious smirk crossing his lips.

“And what exactly should we do about that?” she asked with a coy smile, her hands slowly running up his chest to wrap around his neck.

“I can think of a few things,” Sam growled, his own hands sliding around her waist and down to her ass, grabbing a handful and drawing a squeal from her.

He drew her closer, dipping his head to kiss her before slipping his hands under her ass and to her thighs. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he moved to set her on the counter.

He continued to kiss her, his tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting her as his hands slid under her pajama top, fingers ghosting the skin of her abdomen. He felt her shiver at his touch, and he smirked against her mouth, feeling more than a little proud he had this kind of power over her.

He was just about to pull her shirt up, when a loud cry came from upstairs, breaking the moment. Sam groaned as he broke the kiss, his head falling to her shoulder in defeat. He was hard as a rock and aching for her more than he’d care to admit.

She laughed lightly, pressing a kiss into the side of his neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said, pushing against him. He reluctantly stepped away, helping her slide off the counter. “I’ll take care of you tonight…. I promise,” she whispered in his ear, her hand coming to palm his erection. He groaned, his teeth sinking into his lower lip and eyes falling shut as he tried to control the arousal coursing through his veins.

She rose to her tiptoes, nipping lightly at his earlobe before she continued on her way. He turned to watch her walk up the stairs as if nothing had happened. Fuck, she was going to be the death of him.

**********

“I’m home!” Sam called as he stepped into the house at the end of the day.

“Hey!” (Y/N) shouted back. Sam walked through the living room, finding her once again in the kitchen, bending forward as she took something from the oven. “How was your day?” she asked, sensing him standing in the doorway.

“It was good,” he said, coming behind her just as she straightened, setting a casserole dish on the stovetop. He wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning down to kiss her. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, taking note of the bottle of wine and glasses sitting on the counter next to the stove.

“Don’t you remember?” (Y/N) asked with a good-natured chuckle. “Dean and Cassie are coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, right,” Sam said with a nod. He was about to continue speaking when a high-pitched cry came through the baby monitor on the island.

“Can you do it this time?” (Y/N) asked, jerking her head towards the monitor. “I still have to make the salad before they get here,” she continued, swiping a hand across her forehead.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said with a smile, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple. He made his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, following the cries to the room at the end of the hall. “Hey, baby girl,” he cooed as he entered, going to the crib under the window. He glanced down at his daughter on her back, eyes big and wet as crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks.

He leaned over the side of the crib, his large hands cradling her head and tiny body as he lifted her from her bed. “Hey, there, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a soft and lingering kiss to her downy hair.

Her tears stopped as she stared up at him intently with eyes that were her mother’s. He took her over to the rocking chair (Y/N) used to nurse her, the wood creaking as he settled down. He held Aspen close to his chest, rocking her back and forth as they regarded one another carefully.

He would never lose the awe he felt while holding his daughter in his arms. She was so tiny and fragile, with soft features and expressive eyes. She was a tiny vision to behold, and Sam often marveled that he had made such a beautiful and extraordinary being.

Aspen soon fell back to sleep and Sam put her back to bed before quietly making his way back downstairs where (Y/N) was putting the finishing touches to the salad. “Almost ready,” she said with a smile, bringing the bowl of salad to the table where the casserole and a few other side dishes sat. “Would you grab the wine and glasses and set the table, please.”

Sam smiled and nodded, going to the kitchen and gathering up all the dinner necessities and laying them out on the table. He had just set the last fork on the table when the doorbell rang. He went to answer it, finding Dean and Cassie on the stoop.

“Hey, guys!” Sam said, holding open the door and stepping aside so they could enter. “How’s it going?”

“Going good,” Cassie answered, going to hug her brother-in-law. “How about you guys?”

“Going great. I just put Aspen back down,” Sam said. Cassie pouted at not getting to see her niece, but her smile reappeared as soon as (Y/N) walked into the living room.

“Hey, girl,” Cassie said, opening her arms to her sister-in-law. (Y/N) stepped into her embrace before pulling away and reaching out for Dean next.

“Come on in, guys,” (Y/N) said, motioning for them to follow her and Sam to the dining room.

The rest of the evening was spent in laughter, banter, and amicable conversation. Sam loved being around his family, and his heart swelled with affection as he looked around the table at all the people he loved.

The night ended all too soon and after getting ready for bed, he went to check on Aspen. She had slept for most of the afternoon, only waking once to nurse and giving Dean and Cassie a chance to see her for a little while.

She was sleeping peacefully, light from the moon falling softly across her small body, giving her an almost angelic look. Sam smiled, leaning over the side of the crib to give her brow a tender kiss.

He made his way back to the master bedroom, (Y/N) already in bed. She looked up and smiled as he entered. “She okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. He climbed into the bed next to her, both of them eyeing one another silently. He opened his arm to her and she scooted closer, snuggling herself into his side. “I love you,” Sam whispered, his hand coming up to caress her cheek.

“Love you, too,” she answered back just as quietly, a small smile on her lips. He glanced down at them, licking his own subconsciously. It was her that initiated the kiss, her mouth soft and tantalizing against his own. He must have kissed her a thousand times, but each time was just as alluring.

Sam groaned as their mouths opened to one another without asking, their tongues sliding over one another, the mint from their toothpaste still present on her tongue. She moved from under his arm, rising to her knees before throwing a leg over his lap, straddling his thighs.

(Y/N) pulled back as Sam’s hands slid under her pajama top, slowly pushing it up. She pulled it over her head, his breath hitching as his eyes landed on her full and bare breasts, skin glowing in the light from the lamp on the nightstand.

He leaned forward, his mouth latching onto her right nipple while his hand came up to knead her other breast. Her hands weaved into his hair, holding him against her as her breath came out in small gasps of pleasure. He loved drawing these sounds from her. She had always been responsive to him, and he’d be lying if he said pleasuring her was more of a turn on than anything else.

“Sam,” she moaned, rocking her hips. He pulled away from her breast with a hiss as her pussy made contact with his rapidly growing erection. “Please, Sam,” she begged.

Sam knew what she wanted, and he was all too happy to give it. He stopped her movements and helped her off of him for a moment as he quickly shed his clothes, (Y/N) helping before he did the same to her.

Their need for one another was evident as they met in another heated kiss, Sam pulling her onto his lap once more, his now fully erect cock caught between their bodies. He gripped her hips, moving to grab a fistful of her ass before sliding his hands up her back, her skin warm and smooth.

He could feel her slick starting to coat her silken folds, a few drops landing on his thighs as she lightly rocked against him, desperate to appease the ache between her legs. She was already ready for him, and although he could never resist taking the time to really taste her, he knew neither of them could wait that long.

He pulled away then, falling back against the pillows stacked behind him. She smirked, knowing just what he wanted without him even having to tell her. She gripped his red and weeping cock in her small hand, raising herself to her knees and looking between their bodies as she positioned him at her entrance.

The moment his tip touched her folds, a low and throaty groan bubbled up from the back of his throat. She pushed herself down his length slowly, closing her eyes and relishing in the sting his wide girth always produced.

Sam lifted his hands to her breasts, kneading the soft mounds, watching with avid interest as she slowly adjusted to him. Stretch marks blazed trails across the skin of her abdomen, hips, and breasts; she always said they were ugly, but they were beautiful to him - reminders of the tiny life that had been woven inside her.

She leaned forward, bracing herself against his chest when her walls had finally accommodated him. She leaned in to kiss him at the same time that she moved her hips up before crashing them back down. Sam’s hands flew to her hips, holding her steady as she set a fast pace, her ass and thighs landing against his own legs with a slap.

She was warm and tight; her walls like velvet around him. He was like a moth to the flame as he watched her face carefully. Her cheeks were flushed, a few strands of hair sticking to her damp brow and teeth sunk into her lower lip. She was a glorious sight to behold, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away for even a second, wanting to catch the moment she came undone.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she sought out the spot that would be her undoing. Her legs began trembling after a few moments, and he could tell she was tiring out. So he sat up, wrapping his arms around her back and anchoring her to his chest. She moved so her legs were around his hips as he began to buck up into her wildly. A wanton moan tumbled from her mouth as his tip found her sweet spot, and he took advantage of her ecstasy to latch onto the skin of her neck, sucking a dark and purple hickey into the flesh.

“Sam, right there,” she panted. “Don’t stop...please don’t stop.”

Sam grit his teeth, her strangled cries nearly pulling him over the edge. But he’d be damned if he didn’t make her cum first.

“Play with yourself, baby,” he commanded, and her eyes shot open to meet his wild and lust-filled gaze. Her hand immediately went for her slick pussy, fingers deftly finding her swollen clit and rubbing in fast, firm circles.

Sam groaned as her walls tightened around him, and his fingers dug into the meaty flesh of her ass. “So good for me, baby,” Sam praised. “So tight. So wet. So beautiful.”

His praise was her ruin. Her fingers abandoned her bundle of nerves, hands flying to his shoulders as she came around him, clamping down hard and body shaking.

“Fuck, baby!” Sam cried out as he lost control, hips snapping up into her furiously until he couldn’t take it anymore and he tensed, holding himself still as he spilled deep within her.

She collapsed on top of him, her body lax, forehead landing on his broad shoulder. Sam ran his hands up and down her back, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as they both came down from their rapturous highs.

“Damn, I love you,” Sam whispered.

(Y/N) leaned back to look at him, her eyes gleaming with bliss. “I love you, too,” she said, running her fingers through his hair before pressing a kiss to his brow.

He shifted them both, her snuggling into his side, his arm wrapped firmly around her body as they listened to the silence around them. Sam smiled softly as (Y/N)’s breathing eventually evened out, and he knew she had fallen asleep.

Some people might have viewed his life as mundane and monotonous - just another day in the life of Sam Winchester, but to Sam it was a perfect day. And he smiled to himself as he slowly drifted off to sleep because right there, in that moment, in bed and tangled up with the woman he loved, his heart was full.

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

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤️❤️

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

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

Tags:

Everything:

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Sam Girls:

@saladsammys @trop-mango @my-suga-kookies

[rubisaurus98]

.......will u stab me if i say lugina

No, I am not going to stab you, but I did write a lot of raw opinions and not all of them are pleasant. Just a forewarning.

Why I like them: I dunno, I guess his sword’s got a nifty ability and he’s memeable with him being the most asshole character, yet being the victim of unfortunate funny inconveniences like the boulders and shit. I also like how we develop him, if that counts.

Why I don’t: I swear, I could write at minimum a 2-page paper as to why Lugina Beil’s raw canon character genuinely frustrates the hell out of me. A lot of it being more directed at how he’s written and the implications of the world he’s written into and how it reacts to him rather than about him, the fictional character, if that makes sense. A lot of missed potential if I were to compare him to other characters of other series who started out similar to him, but developed more noticeably for the better over the course of their own plots. Like, the development of a story-prominent heroic-aligned selfish asshole character into someone who isn’t afraid to show he cares about his comrades and will lay down his life for them, yet still retains a certain “edge” to him is such a tried-and-true method to me when it comes to development satisfaction in my experience, that to see it not happen to a certain effect/extent is whiplash. The best comparisons that I can think of at them moment are like, Gajeel Redfox and Laxus Dreyar from Fairy Tail and Jean Kirstein from AoT. I’m serious, like, read up on them, then compare them to Lugina. Gajeel’s even a father-to-be in Fairy Tail rn, and he’s both ecstatic and very protective of his partner. I know I keep comparing Lugina to other characters of other series with their own developments, but still, like, I could also name a bunch of conjectures as to why Lugina doesn’t seem to go down a similar path. In short, now that it seems his tale is finished without so much as a follow-up, I dislike how the writers wrote Lugina more than Lugina the character himself.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): Lugina and BF1 Summoner vs Gazarva at the end of BF1.

Favorite season/movie: I liked him best during Arcs 2 and 3. More Arc 3.

Favorite line: “ [Liomerg] wasn't just talking about physical strength, he meant mental strength as well... Basically the only thing holding [Karl] back is himself. For all that he tries to handle things himself without depending on others, he doesn't have the resolve to see it through on his own. You call that kindness? That's just weakness!”--Estria, area after Shusui is killed by Mora. An “asshole’s got a point” moment.

Favorite outfit: BF2 Armor and that picnic art where he’s hogging all the spaghetti and Seria’s kicking him in the head for it. You know the one.

OTP: Really, it’s only with OCs, or in My Verse, where I flesh things out considerably between him and Yurika. If Alim bothered to fill in more about his actual relationship with Yurika, I could’ve actually put them here. I also ship him with Unlearning Toxic Masculinity, Some Fucking Therapy, and Having Better Character Development Based Of Other Examples I Know From Heroic-Aligned Characters Who Started Out Similar To Him, but we can’t have nice things in this fandom. Maybe him and Bertz if Bertz weren’t closeted or whatever his deal with Lugina is.

Brotp: Deadass, I don’t know. Maybe Karl post-BF1?

Head Canon: I still think he whittles wood as a hobby and one of his best projects is a full-scale replica of Sky Harbinger. And that he wholeheartedly and openly enjoys sea shanties. Oh, and that he definitely still invited BF1 Summoner and Tilith to his wedding. Hell, he explicitly said they had to come because no fucking way those two are gonna miss out on this. Plus, Tilith wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he didn’t.

Unpopular opinion: I’ve said some piece of this in the one I did for Sasha, but wait! There’s more! And this is more of a general statement, but I really do think that there’s a lot left out/missing/glossed over in terms of BF2′s writing that would make things a lot more well-rounded. Plus, I think I’ve also already said some things that belong here under “Why I Don’t”. Also, only reason why Alim had Lugina be the only main cast member to start a family other than to show that he’s “developed for the better over 20 years” is because they made Karl and Paris still horny for BF1 Summoner and Seria...Seria, idk about. Probably applying the “No Guy Wants an Amazon” trope with her.

A wish: That Alim didn’t bull-rush Brave Frontier 2 and actually took efficient time to develop the story more so it’d have a longer shelf life? Then we’d at least be able to hopefully see more of the cast as a whole, and hopefully actually develop instead of what was probably squishing everything down and throwing in everything no matter how developed it was? Because BF2 seems more like an Afterword that’s trying to be a proper sequel. I’d wish for more between the games development, too and that Alim isn’t done working with Lugina and the rest of them.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Some implication/confirmation/allusion that Lugina cradle-robbed Yurika; any indication that there’s something off about their relationship beyond what’s traditionally considered healthy/normal married couple behavior plus what we’ve been given.

5 words to best describe them: Wish he was written better.

My nickname for them: Rat Man/Bastard. Potato Bastard.

[k-knightt-blog]

My Family - Tom Hiddleston one-shot

Request: Hello sweet angel child! Sorry to bother you bit I would like to make a request. The reader is a single mother of a 5 year old daughter and dating Tom Hiddleston. One day the biological father shows up and is being aggressive and Tom gets extremely protective over his girls.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Wordcount: 2,400+

A/N: Feedback is massively appreciated!

True and pure warmness fills your heart as you look out over the scene playing out before you. You’re standing against the kitchen island, cradling a coffee in your hands, a coffee that Tom had prepared for you. Tom and Agatha are sitting around the table, mindlessly drawing in one of her colouring books. You want to take a picture of this moment and frame it, so that’s what you decide to do. You reach for your phone in your back pocket, positioning it so that you caught the entire scene. The two doodlers didn’t look up from their drawings, and you let your gaze look at them lovingly for a few seconds more.

Tom came into your life when Agatha was only 2. That was nearly 4 years ago now, time really flies. You were young when you had her, but there wasn’t a question whether or not to become a mother. You had always wanted children, but not six months after graduating from university. And in your dream, your child’s father wasn’t an abusive-self-centred-arsehole. It was all worth it though, you would have gone through everything again for her.

You worked in production when you happened upon Tom. You were late one morning because Agatha had been sick for days, and you had to drive her over to your mother's house on the other side of London. With droopy and tired eyes you had wandered into the AD’s office, and Tom had been sitting there. His conversation with the art director and producer stopped in its tracks. They all greeted you in a normal manner, but Tom stood up and introduced himself and took your hand in his with the most utmost care, and kissed the top of it. He was the most beautiful soul you had ever met, and he adored you from the first second.

He kept his distance since you also did, there was a clear attraction between you two but no words of affection spoken. It took a few weeks for you to open yourself up to the possibility that Tom might actually like you. That maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t mind that you had a child. Tom sadly figured that you didn’t like him, and the two of you moved around on set moping about each other. It wasn’t until the production’s wrap that the two of you saw sense, and Tom immediately asked you out on a date.

After two months of dating, you told him, quite rightly, that you were a single mother. That her father was a horrible man, and he had never really been in the picture. You remember your pulse being really high. You were nervous because you were falling for Tom. It’s not all that easy to find a man who’d be willing to take that on. You were dead set on that he would say that it wouldn’t work, he’s often away filming or that he didn’t want children. Perhaps that he wanted his own. You prepared for the worst, but his whole face lit up. “I can’t wait to meet her.” he had said and you had nearly started bawling right there.

A year later you and Agatha had moved into Tom’s big flat in Belsize. He started to mention ‘his family’ in interviews, and of course, people were curious. Eventually, after two years of loving you and Agatha, he couldn’t keep his love for you out of the public. Although, it was something he tried to do, due to your private lives. He let it slip that his ‘daughter’ had drawn him as Loki and that it was the last time he cried of happiness. Graham Norton was in shock, and he said that he was glad that Tom had given him such a lovely exclusive piece of information. Tom had even shown the picture Agatha had drawn to the audience. He also mentioned that her mother is the most beautiful and loving person he’s ever met. He couldn’t wait to marry you. The crowd roared with excitement.

Tom looks at you while he helps Agatha down from the chair, she has had enough of drawing and runs towards her room, finding something else to play with. He moves closer to you and gives you a loving kiss, “I cherish these moments,” He says, “It’s so hard for me to be away from you two.” You look up at him and smile, “As long as you always come back. And that you fly us out so Aggy can run after her favourite Marvel characters,” Tom laughs, and folds his hands around your smaller frame. Suddenly there’s a hard knock on the door. Both of you look at each other, and then towards the front door again. “Are we expecting someone?” Tom asks as he walks towards the door. “No, I don’t think so. Who comes around at 10 in the morning a Saturday.” You say softly while picking up your coffee, letting Tom handle the door.

You see Tom’s entire frame stiffen as he looks out of the keyhole, he doesn’t move one inch as he calls for you, “Y/n! Call the police!” You nearly laugh out loud at this, what a ridiculous thing to say. “Funny, darling. Tell me who it is?” You take a sip from your cooling coffee. Tom moves away from the door, he moves carefully, nearly without sound. Like he was moving away from a ticking bomb. “What is the matter? Who is it?” You’re growing impatient now, and you’re feeling slightly confused. You leave your coffee mug on the kitchen island and nudge Tom away from the door opening.

You can feel all the colour drain from your face as you look through the keyhole. “Darren,” You whisper in absolute disbelief. Another loud knock makes both of you jump slightly. You hadn’t seen him since Agatha was 8 months old. “Y/n?” Echoes through the door and sends shivers down your spine. You’re not scared to see the man who put you through hell, you’re more in shock than anything else. It's like you had forgotten his existence. You look over your shoulder to Tom who mouths a ‘no’, because he knows what you’re thinking of doing. You’re thinking about opening the door. There’s silence for a few seconds before Darren speaks again, “Y/n, please, I know you’re home.” You have your hand on the lock, but you decide to speak to him before opening the door. “What do you want Darren?” Your tone is serious, nearly harsh. Tom stands behind you, as though he is guarding you. “I just want to speak to you, perhaps even see Agatha if she's there.” You huff, feeling yourself getting angry now. Why did he want to see her now? When he has never been interested in being her father before. You lean in to whisper to Tom, “Go get Agatha and go to our room.” Tom nods because he certainly doesn't want Darren to come close to his precious girl.

Tom considered himself to be her father, and so did you, and so did Agatha. You had mentioned to her that Tom wasn’t her biological father but it went over her head. Because Tom acted as a father and he was always around. You decided to not mention it to her again, that he wasn’t her father, to save her the confusion. Frankly, he was more of a father than most biological fathers are.

You hear Tom ask Aggy if she wants to watch some cartoons in the big bed, which she always wanted to do. You watch them as they trot through the apartment to the master bedroom. When the door was closed to the room you unlock the front door and was faced with Darren. ”Let’s make this quick,” You say as you block the doorway, so he can’t walk in. Before you can even react he pushes through you, his eyes looking around the apartment frantically. ”I didn’t invite you in, how dare you push into my flat like this?” You say, and cross your arms over your chest. You’ve taken so much grief from him for so many years, and right now you want to put him in his place. “You really did sleep your way to the top huh?” Darren says as he picks up a glass figurine from a nearby shelf.

You were fuming, but you kept your voice low. You didn’t want to alarm Agatha that something wasn’t right, and you certainly didn’t want Tom racing into the room. Because you knew he bore deep hatred towards the man now standing in your shared hall. ”What do you want Darren?” Your words are dripping with poison, and you can see the look of surprise on his face. You weren’t afraid of him anymore, and he could sense it. “Maybe, I wanted to see my kid.” He says nonchalantly, as he discards of the glass sculpture. What on earth is wrong with this man? “She’s not your kid.” You say, and you approach him, trying to nudge him towards the door. He doesn’t move, “I am her father, you and I both know it.” You want to slap him, but you refrain yourself from doing so. “She barely knows you exist. The father she knows is Tom. You and I both know that.” His jaw twitches, he’s angry now. You know he had seen on social media that his ex had found someone new, someone famous as well. You bet that annoyed him more. Since he hasn’t seen any sort of success in life.

”That famous fucker huh? I bet you love the money that comes with this new father you hauled in.” He looks disgusted when he spits out “new father.” You want him out of your house now. “I want you to leave right now, or I’ll call the police!” You can’t help yourself for yelling, thinking that it might scare him. He only grins.

Suddenly the door opens to the master bedroom, and Tom walks out with such purpose you think he’s going to hit the guy. “Oh, here he comes, the prince, the man of the house.” Darren lets out a laugh. You look over your shoulder to see Tom standing behind you, his face looks like thunder. “You heard Y/n. If you don’t leave now, we won’t hesitate to call the police.” His tone is serious and calm. Darren moves along into the kitchen but Tom is quick to stop him in his tracks. “You leave now, or we will call the police.” He says again. “You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? Stealing my kid and my wife.” You huff, he sounds absolutely ridiculous. “Wife? That’s new.” You say, “And Darren, she’s not your child. Not even a little bit. Not after what you’ve put us through. She might not know what you did to her mother, or how you kicked us out because you didn’t want us anymore. But I know, and you’re never going to be a father to her.” You’re crying now, you didn’t even realise.

Tom is fuming, he’s never been this angry and you can tell. This monologue seemed to stun Darren a little, he’s quiet for a few seconds, his anger now solely directed to Tom. You both flinch a little when he takes big steps towards the two of you, “You tucking bitch! And you, Tom Hiddleston, born with a silver spoon up your arse. You think you’re better than me? YOU think you’re better than me?” He gives Tom a hard poke in the chest, one that’ll probably leave a bruise. You’re ready to pounce, but Tom puts an arm out, stopping you in your tracks. 

”I know I am better than you,” His voice is now loud and it seems to be scaring Darren a little. Tom’s muscles are tight and he looks twice as big as before, “You think YOU can come in to our home and disrespect Y/n like this, after all, you have done,” Darren’s still quiet, “And then have the audacity to want to see Agatha whom YOU abandoned and haven’t seen since she was 1,” He points at Darren now, his hand is slightly shaking out of anger. “How dare you? How bloody dare you? This is my family and I will do everything in my power to keep them away from rotten souls like you,” Suddenly you hear a cry coming behind you. Quick as lighting you turn around and see Agatha standing in the creek of the door, tears running down her cheeks. She’s heard everything. Your heart breaks into a million pieces as you run to her and scoop her up. Tom’s eyes look away from Darren’s for an instance to give the two of you a glance, securing that Agatha was in your arms.

”You will leave now. And if I see you again there’s going to be a restraining order against you and believe me, I can ruin you if I wanted to. But I am a better man than you, I have morals and a goddamn heart,” Tom has lowered his voice but his tone makes Darren shutter. He knew that Tom had the power to do just what he said. Darren looks unsure of what to say. You’re standing back with Aggy, holding her tight as she asks who “the bad man is”

”You can have them, I don’t give a shit anyway.” He bolts for the door and slams it shut so hard you think it might shatter. As soon as Tom is sure that he isn’t coming back he rushes towards you two. He embraces you where you stand, “Don’t worry, he won’t ever set his foot anywhere near you again.” There are tears in Tom’s eyes as well because he hasn’t ever been so angry and simultaneously scared at the same time. He knew Darren was unpredictable, strong, and if he had decided to attack, Tom had feared that there wasn’t going to be much that he could do to stop him. His heart is hammering in his chest, "Tom, it's all right, look we're fine." Tom is torn from his thoughts, thoughts filled with bad endings to this situation. He looks down at Agatha, who's no longer crying, and then up at you. "God, I love you." He kissed you and then bends down to plant a kiss on Agatha's head.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 27

Chapter 27: You Brought Me to Life

Dean, Morning, 8:21 AM

           I would never get tired of waking up next to Mera. She was a morning person, someone who was usually up and wide awake not long after the sun came up. Me… not so much. I stayed up late and hated the morning sun more than just about anything. But there was something about opening my eyes and the first thing I saw was my wife in bed next to me. It was a rare thing for me to wake up before her.

           She was curled on her side facing me, one hand tucked up beneath her pillow. Honey colored hair spilled out over the sheets, wound up in knots and curls that were halfway tamed by an elastic band. There was a faint pink hue along the line of her cheekbones. Freckles dusted over her nose. Her lashes cast shadows on the fullness of her cheeks, making her look so young and innocent.

           I couldn’t understand how I’d gotten so lucky. For seven years, I’d loved her from afar. I’d watched her smile and laugh. Every day that I got to see her was a day that I stored in my heart as a memory for the times when she was out of sight. Whenever my past haunted me, I thought of the way she smiled at me, how she said my name, how her eyes would flame with sunlight when she laughed. I thought of her and did everything I could think of to make myself a better man. A man who could—in another life—be worthy of her.

           Mera let out a faint sigh and snuggled down further beneath the blankets. I brushed her hair back with a gentle touch. She smiled in her sleep, and I felt it sear into my soul.

           As I watched her sleep, I thought back to the first time I met her. It was in the old building that used to be the home of FCW. It was little more than a retrofitted warehouse, but it was a place to wrestle and a paycheck. The promotion was new, so they were having this meet and greet get-to-know-you thing for us. I wasn’t much for it, but… it was a paycheck.

           I was halfway through my second beer and only partly listening to a conversation with another guy when I saw her out of the corner of my eye. It was her hair. The light made it shine gold and brass and corn silk as she moved. I remember how time seemed to stop when I saw her face. She smiled and laughed as she shook hands and met people around the room. The color of her shirt—a sort of cloudy grey—made her eyes pop. I’d never seen eyes like hers.

           My heart skipped a beat when she looked my way. The air rushed out of my lungs. I couldn’t get a grip on myself. My fingers tightened on my beer as she got closer. I couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes, those flickering wolf eyes that hypnotized me the second she glanced my way.

           Then I saw him. The guy I’d come to know as Seth Rollins, trailing along beside her, their fingers entwined. My gut dropped into my toes. Of course a woman as beautiful as her would be taken. They screamed childhood sweethearts without saying a word. I blinked, swallowed against the lump in my throat.

           I opened my eyes and there she was. Two feet in front of me smelling like peaches and sangria, a disarming smile on her face as she looked up at me confidently.

           “Hi,” she said, her voice swirling around me like music. “I’m Mera Reynolds.”

           My mouth was dry. I coughed, trying to get my shit together. I held out a hand. “Dean.” The name felt weird. I hadn’t been using it for very long. But it would be the name she knew me by. I wished I’d said it with more confidence. “Dean Ambrose.”

           She smiled until her eyes sparkled with gold. Mera Reynolds started talking.

           And I started falling in love.

           Even now, each and every time I saw her smile at me, I felt like I had that very first day. It was like a punch to the chest. But it was an exquisite pain. It was the best reminder that I was alive and she was mine.

 Mera, Morning, 9:15 AM

           I rolled over, stretching and flexing my feet and legs as I fought toward wakefulness. The scent of lavender and oleander rushed over me, reminding me that I was at home in my own bed. I breathed in the crisp smell and reached out toward Dean’s side of the bed.

           The sheets were empty and cool.

           My eyes cracked open. Dean was nowhere to be found. I sat up and threw the blankets off, suddenly worried that something had happened. “Dean?”

When I didn’t hear a reply, I jumped out of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. I rushed toward the stairs, pulling my hair back into a knot as I went. At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped. My heart beat an erratic rhythm as I took in the scene before me.

The coffee table spilled over with flowers. There were bouquets of roses—red, white, pink, yellow—and clusters of sunflowers and tulips. They were arranged in vases and tied together with silken bows. Some bunches had their stems wrapped with brightly colored ribbons. A few sparkled with what looked like strings of gems interwoven between the petals.

“Dean?”

           “In here,” came his voice at last. I felt the ache in my chest lessen. If he could talk, he was okay. I sighed, feeling the smile of relief spread over my face.

           I moved through the house, still overwhelmed by the sheer volume of flowers that had suddenly appeared in our living room. I finally saw Dean standing by the stove in the kitchen. His hazelnut hair was still mussed from sleep, but there was a happy smile on his face.

           “Good morning, my sweet wife,” he said, weaving around the island. His eyes flashed the blue of the desert sky when he swept me up in his arms. Dean settled his lips against mine insistently. When he finally broke the kiss, desire swirled in my veins. “Did you sleep well?”

           I hummed a response. “What are you doing, Dean?”

           He smiled a little brighter. “Making you breakfast.”

           For the first time, I noticed the skillets on the stove. A stack of silver dollar pancakes sat in the center of a plate, just waiting for some maple syrup. My mouth watered at the thought.

           He followed my gaze to the food, his smile getting brighter. “Why don’t you go grab the syrup?”

           I snatched one of the pancakes from the plate as I passed by. Dean let out a playful huff of complaint and swatted at my ass with the spatula in his hand. I couldn’t help but giggle as I slipped into the pantry.

           In the weeks since we’d moved into the house, I’d finally gotten around to organizing the house to my liking. The cabinets had been packed just the right way—all the plates and cups and bowls that matched all put together—and the pantry had been organized exactly as I’d had mine in my apartment in Florida.

           I reached up to the top shelf to get the syrup. Instead my fingers closed around something small and velveteen.

           “Dean, what’s this?” I asked confusedly, gripping the item in my fingers as I turned toward the door.

           He was there… down on one knee in front of me. He gently slipped the box from my fingers and opened it. Inside was a ring. One made of yellow gold, a circular diamond the size of my thumbnail glittering in the low light. I sighed softly, tears blurring my vision as I saw my husband holding out what was clearly an engagement ring.

 Dean, Morning, 9:22 AM

           “Oh…” The sound that she made was something between a whimper and a sigh. She pressed one hand against her lips even as her eyes filled with tears.

           I took a long moment to take in the sight of her. My wife was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen, even in worn sweats and my old t-shirt. No makeup. Messy hair. Still flushed from sleep. Goddamn, she was so fucking beautiful that it hurt.

           “Mera,” I said softly, hoping that she could hear every ounce of my love for her in my voice. “Will you marry me? Again?”

           She giggled at that, those amber eyes flashing. They were like sunlight on honey even as they glistened with tears. Her lips curved into a smile even as she sniffled.

           She bobbed her head in a nod.

           I chuckled. “I’d kinda like to hear you say it, darlin’.”

           As if a dam broke inside her, Mera started laughing with what I hoped was joy. She closed the space between us and brushed her fingers through my hair. She cradled my cheeks as she kissed me firmly.

           “Yes,” she said at last. She said it through her tears and her laughter. But she said it.

           I pulled the ring from the box and took her hand in mine. Just before I slipped it onto her finger, I glanced up, feeling the smirk on my lips. “And you’re entirely sober this time, right?”

           She laughed and it was so pure and perfect that it was like music. Mera smiled, and I was suddenly thrown back to that first day. That first moment when I stood two feet from her and saw that gorgeous curve of her lips and the glitter of her eyes. Nothing had changed in seven years… only that I loved her more today than I did yesterday.

           “Absolutely sober,” she replied, flushed and grinning.

           The ring skimmed onto her finger, sitting perfectly below her wedding band. I made a mental note to get her a new one. One that we picked out together from a real jeweler and not from a roadside chapel in Vegas.

__________________________________________

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[hannah-deserved-better]

Emotions are dangerous temptations

So this is one of the very first Supernatural fics I ever wrote. I recently came across it and decided to try to finish it. Although I am a hardcore Hanstiel shipper and I don't really ship anyone that gets between that ship, I wanted to step outside my comfort zone for one fic only because I wanted to illustrate how Castiel views love, whether it's romantic or friendship. Castiel has a lot of love to give and this is about his devotion to those he loves. Note that I am not a Destiel shipper so that will not be a part of this fic, although there will be plenty of Dean friendship with everyone.

Castiel and Sam bond while being caretakers for those they love. Castiel is caring for an ailing Hannah and Sam is caring for Dean and the two are later joined by someone they thought was lost forever. As Castiel falls in love for the first time, he soon realizes that he's not just falling in love with one person.

Chapter One

Castiel lay in the dirt where he had fallen, listening to the cries of pain from inside. He squirmed and struggled, using every bit of his strength to try to get up, but he could hardly lift his head. His eyelids felt heavy, every muscle ached. His borrowed grace had been spent, and Adina's beating had sapped what little strength remained. He was dying.

If it were just his life, he wouldn't be so determined. After all, as he told Metatron, he'd made peace with his fate, whatever it might be. He regretted taking another angel's grace to save himself, and now he was paying the price, perhaps he deserved it. After all, it was his grace in Metatron's hands that caused the fall. He didn't know how he could ever forgive himself for what he'd done, what he'd allowed to happen. It seemed no matter how much he tried to help, angels suffered, and perhaps his death would be the last gift he could give them.

But his life wasn't the only one at stake here. Dean, Sam, Hannah. They all needed him right now. Hannah's screams of pain from inside the convenience store reminded him of that. Adina was hurting her. She was taking revenge for what Castiel had done to Daniel. It was yet another thing Castiel had done to his fellow angels. He really couldn't blame Adina for wanting him dead, but he couldn't let her continue to torture Hannah.

"Hannah…" he groaned as another scream came from the store. Then another. Then a louder, more pain-filled cry made Castiel squirm on the ground all the more. Whatever Adina was doing, Hannah was hurting. Castiel couldn't allow it to continue. Would his last moments of life be spent laying here listening to Hannah die in agony?

It was then that Castiel heard the crunch of grass as someone approached. He was surprised with Crowley appeared in his field of vision, peering down at him.

"Hey, Champ," Crowley mused as he looked down at the pitiful sight before him. "Look at you. Talk about roadkill." Castiel groaned as he watched Crowley stride casually into the convenience store, angel blade in hand. Hope surged through him as he watched the demon disappear inside.

Moments later, there was a muffled cry from inside, and Crowley reappeared at the door. He hurried to Castiel's side and pulled the angel up into his arms, almost tenderly. As if he was cradling a dying comrade. He produced the vial of angel grace. Castiel shook his head. He'd not benefit from another angel's death, he refused.

"Yes, it's hers, but she was killing your girlfriend," Crowley assured him, putting the vial to the angel's lips. "Your hands are clean." Castiel finally absorbed the grace, and as it coursed through him, he felt stronger.

Crowley moved back as Castiel healed and got to his feet. A temporary fix, he knew, but for now, he could help Hannah, he could save Dean. He looked at Crowley. He owed his and Hannah's life to the king of hell. He'd never seen that coming.

"You owe me," he said, among other things before disappearing. Castiel turned his attention to the convenience store. Hannah was still inside. Quickly, he dashed to the doorway and surveyed the scene. The little store was destroyed, shelves had been ruined, candy and food littered the ground.

"Hannah?" he called, looking frantically for her. The sound of labored breathing brought him further into the store. He found Adina's crumpled form in front of the cashier counter, the shadow of her broken wings spread out on the floor. He sighed. Another angel was dead — one who had hostile intentions towards them, but still an angel.

"Castiel," came Hannah's pain, hitched voice. She finally came into view from around a fallen shelf. The sight of her alive and standing filled him with relief… that is until he saw her pale complexion as she stumbled to him. He surveyed the wounds on her face and neck, the cuts and wounds on her arms and legs. He moved towards her, holding a hand out to heal her… and as his eyes fell on her torso, he paled. An angel blade was impaled in her side, and the blue glow of angel grace leaked out alongside blood. As he looked closer, there seemed to be a strange green glow illuminating the wound, some kind of substance he didn't recognize.

Hannah promptly collapsed, falling forward, and Castiel caught her in his arms. She groaned softly, pain etched in her face.

Panic and fear gripped Castiel as he tried to remain calm. He lowered her onto the ground. "I need to look," he warned her. She only nodded, whimpering in pain. "She said nothing could cure it," Hannah breathed through gritted teeth. "Castiel, you must leave me… after all, you have other priorities."

Castiel winced at that, remembering his own words, warning her of emotions, feelings, and how they could be distractions. And now his own emotions and feelings were doing just that. "I know," he said. "I know what I said, but… I'm not going to leave you here. Now tell me what did Adina say to you? What can't be cured?"

"Poison," Hannah gulped as Castiel pulled the bottom of her blouse up around the blade so he could see the wound better. "She said… it was poisoned…"

"Your grace…" Castiel murmured as he saw the blue essence leaking from the wound. The blade remained impaled deep in her body, and blood oozed out around it. "I'm no doctor I don't know how to treat your vessel… but your grace is diminishing… this blade must come out, but I don't think it would be a good idea to do it here."

Thinking quickly, Castiel grabbed a rag from the shelf and wrapped it around the wound, pressing hard. He took her hand and placed it over the cloth. "Hold it tight," he said. "It won't stop the bleeding, but it will contain your grace." Hannah nodded. The pitiful whimpering she uttered froze Castiel's very soul. The crippling pain was evident in her pretty blue eyes as she gazed up at him.

Any human would be in a great deal of pain from this kind of terrible wound. But an angel being pierced with an angel blade, even just a scrape, caused immense suffering to the very core of an angel's being. Angels were hard to kill, but they could feel pain, feel it at a molecular level, in a more profound way than humans could.

As Castiel carefully gathered Hannah into his arms, her body trembled with pain. He held her as gently as he could as he carried her out of the store and to his car. "Hold on, Hannah," he implored urgently as he pulled the passenger door opened and lay her down in the seat. She only responded with a yelp as the movement, as careful as he was trying to be, jarred her wound.

As Castiel positioned her in the seat and tried to make her more comfortable, he gently brushed a finger against her cheek and moved her face to look at him. Her eyes, wide with pain, searched his.

"I don't understand," she breathed, confusion in her eyes. "Castiel… you are willing to die for your causes… you'd rather die than go to Metatron or to use another angel's grace. You said your priorities are to hunting the rogues and helping the Winchesters. Yet… your actions and your words aren't the same. Why not leave me?"

Castiel hesitated. He didn't have a good answer to that. The logical angel in him perhaps would have left Hannah in the store if he thought she was beyond saving. He would have put her out of her misery at the very least. But the Castiel who felt things, who had grown to love Sam and Dean like brothers, who had learned what friendship truly meant, who had learned about compassion and loyalty and love, did not want Hannah to die. The last few days spent with her hunting the rogues through his own ailment, seeing her learn about humanity through him and his own actions, it stirred something within him.

"I've reassessed my priorities," he finally told her. "I'm going to save you."

"Why?" she prompted.

"Because you are my friend," Castiel explained. "And if there is anything that the Winchesters have shown me, it's that friendship and family come before all other priorities. Even heaven's. So hold on, Hannah…" She only nodded, and he quickly closed the door and hurried around to the driver's seat, slamming on the gas as soon as he was able to.

Castiel drove with determination and urgency. Not only for Hannah's sake but for Sam and Dean's. Dean was a demon; if Sam weren't able to cure him, they'd have to… Castiel winced. No, they had to be successful. Castiel refused to entertain the possibility that Dean was going to die too. He could lose Hannah; he could lose Dean, perhaps Sam also. His friends, his family. He couldn't let that happen.

[leclerc-xo]

ANSWER ALL 20 I WANT ALL 20

Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing

The girl was short and she blew her blonde hair out her face as she reached up to place one of the books she was cradling in her arms on a shelf just out of her reach. She was humming, some nondescript tune that could have been a mash up of whichever songs had been stuck in her head that week. A customer approached her and she smiled at them, her eyes warm as they asked for a help. She seemed at home, in the bookshop, able to put her hands immediately on the book they were looking for without having to search. The customer thanked her as they walked away and she returned to the pile she’d been shelving, stopping to read the back of one that had clearly piqued her interest… 

2. Is there any specific ritual you go through while/before/after your writing?

Nothing too specific. Sometimes I’ll watch a few videos or have a scroll through Tumblr if I feel like I need some inspiration. I do tend to write later in the evening so I’ll have spent a portion of my day thinking about what I want write. Whilst I’m writing I like to just go with it and not really edit too much as I go along. Most of the time the scene/s I want to write are like movie scenes in my head and I just focus on translating what I’m imagining onto the page. 

3. What is your absolute favorite kind of fic to write?

I love angst. I love really getting inside a characters head and exploring their feelings. The fics I enjoy reading are the ones with long paragraphs about emotions and I think that has really influenced the way I write. I have been enjoying writing smut lately as well. I always always scared to give it a go but since I decided to just go for it I’ve written quite a bit and its fun!

4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why?

YOU!!! Legitimately the reason we started talking on here was because of your fics. Why? Because you are a QUEEN when it comes to mixing emotion, dialogue, SMUT and some of the lines you write slay me. Everything you write just feels so polished and the way you portray Eric and Dele’s relationship makes me squee. 

@cefhclwords is another who just seems to get Eric and Dele, her characterisation is always on point. She also managed to come up with some amazing phrases and lines and I am honestly just in awe of her sometimes. 

Away from football my favourite fic writer is Bex-Chan. She was huge in the Dramione community around 2010 and her fic Isolation is one of the best stories I have ever read. 

5. How many words can you write if you sit down and concentrate intensely for an hour?

An hour? Maybe just over 1000? I can type quite fast and if I know exactly what I want to write then I just go with it and don’t stop until its all down on the page. 

6. First fic/pairing you wrote for? (If no pairing, describe the plot)

Draco/Hermione. It was called Into Temptation and basically Hermione gets drunk and finds Draco in the room of requirement… It’s here if you want a read! 

7. Inspiration, time, or motivation. Choose two.

TIME! My god I miss the days where I would just be able to sit and write for hours. Also motivation, I’ve been quite good recently but this is the first time in years that I’ve actually carved time out of my day to write and I hope it stays with me. 

8. Why do you choose to write?

Mainly because it’s fun. I have always been the type of person to get obsessions and fic is just another way for to channel that. I love placing characters in different scenarios and thinking about how they would react. I also love that fic allows me to focus on those small little moments that get lost when plot has to be the main drive behind a story. WIth fic you can just wallow in one emotion for a whole chapter if you want or focus on a small moment and expand it to last 5000 words. 

9. Do you ever have plans to write anything other than fic?

Probably not? I haven’t done by this point. Fic is another extension for my interests and I find it really difficult to come up with solid original ideas that I care enough about to write. 

10. What inspires you the most?

I’m going to keep this to football. All the damn content Eric and Dele have given us over the last few years. These two boys have made it extremely easy for us to write about them. Tumblr is a massive inspiration, with the prompt lists, people requesting stuff, the tags people use. It’s just a goldmine. 

11. Weirdest thing you’ve ever written/thought about writing/etc.?

Dele fisting Jesse Lingard.

12. A fic you wish you had written better, and why?

Possibly the ending to Captain? I felt like I rushed it a bit and just ended it. 

13. Favorite fic from another author?

In This World of Ours by Dierdele. She’s great, you should read some of her stuff. 

14. Your favorite side pairings to put in?

Jesse Lingard/Marcus Rashford. I haven’t really added them in properly to anything yet but its coming in Ibiza AU. 

15. Your guilty writing pleasure?

I mean you might say that writing mens football fanfic is enough of a guilty pleasure… 

16. Do you have structured ideas of how your story is supposed to go, or make it up as you write?

I don’t really make a plan. I always know the gist of what I want to write and sometimes I know exactly how I want it to end but I don’t really do a bullet point plan. I will sometimes have snippets of stuff in my notes app, sentences I thought of or dialogue I want to use. I do have the whole of the Wedding Sex fic planned out though. 

17. Would yo describe yourself as a fast writer?

Yeah I would. I can write like a couple of a thousand words in a few hours. As I’ve evidenced with some of the prompts I’ve done so far this month!

18. How old were you when you started writing?

I remember writing stories when I was in junior school so like 7? I have always loved books and reading so I was inevitably going to like writing as well. 

19. Why did you start writing?

I have quite an active imagination and I like the fact I can take what I see in my head and put it into words. 

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

‘The feeling that they’d jumped off the edge into an unknown abyss, that they were in free fall and the only thing that could save them was each other.’ When We Were Young - Chapter 5. 

‘Their lips met and it was rough and painful and it was like coming home. It was the stolen kiss in the dressing room after the Nations League final. It was the night after in their hotel room as they explored each other’s bodies. It was Eric dropping to his knees and Dele thinking he’d never feel this good again. It was the morning that Dele had rolled over and whispered to Eric that he wanted him to fuck him. And it was the day Eric had said he was leaving and Dele had felt everything they could have had slip through his fingers. It was all of those moments and it was also just one.’ Mine Mine Mine - Chapter 12

‘His heart in Eric’s palm, all his hopes and dreams tied up in his blue eyes.  “We can’t do this.” His heart on the floor in front of him. A thousand tiny pieces of the future he had built in his head, shattered.’ Mine Mine Mine - Chapter 14

‘Because it wasn’t just a table that sat between them. It was five years. Five years of unsent messages and rewatched videos. Five years of waking up in the middle of the night, aching from the ghost of the touch that haunted his dreams. Five years of trying to plug the gaping hole in his chest with football, with girls, with anything that would numb the pain. Five years laid out over forty inches of scratched wood and Eric couldn’t figure out how to bridge the gap. He didn’t know how to reach across the chasm between them and being Dele back to him.’ When We Were Young - Chapter 8 

[caelin-ismycity]

My Lord’s Disease : Chapter 1

[eliwood and hector actually show up woohoo - hope yall enjoy !]

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For years house Ostia and house Pherea have shared a bond that could easily spark jealousy among other houses- I dare say they had any disputes between them for centuries. Every so often, Lord Elbert would invite Lord Uther of Ostia to the castle. Predominantly, these meetings would discuss politics and business deals, but I would not doubt that Lord Elbert and Lady Eleanora had come to sincerely enjoy Lord Uther’s company.

I was twenty-five years old during this particular visit between the houses. Ashera seems to have also taken note of the inspirational relationship between Ostia and Pherea, for there was seldom clouds in sight. It was not too blindingly bright, yet the balance of shadows and light was most pleasant as the sun’s rays glistened through our war room’s windows. It was almost an optimistic omen that the room would one day never have to be used for its initial intent. But, as I said, that is optimistic thinking and rather unrealistic.

Whenever Lord Uther came to visit he brought little with him. Perhaps a luggage here and there with an escort to accompany him. However this particular visit I could tell would be something else, for by his side at the castle’s front doors was a young man. Similar to Lord Uther, he possessed dark cobalt-blue hair, slicked back in a futile attempt to look professional (most certainly done by Lord Uther himself), yet a strand here and there poked out along his hairline. His eyes matched in hue with his hair; dull blue, large eyes awkwardly glancing around the manor as he clutched to Lord Uther’s leg.

“Lord Uther of Ostia!” Lord Elbert called from the main staircase, undoubtedly just finishing brushing himself up for his guests. Lady Eleanora followed suite with Lord Eliwood in her arms, offering a delicate bow opposed to a curtsy as she typically done. Lord Uther returned the greeting with similar fashion, obviously replacing his own name with that of milord’s, and the house of his with our own.

The trio eventually met at the center of the foyer, lightly chattering about various topics as they always had. ‘I hope your trip was pleasant’ here, ‘You look wonderful this evening, Lady Eleanora,’ there- simple small talk that I had no permission to eavesdrop heavily upon. Of course, as milord’s main paladin, it was still necessary that I stood by the staircase with my spear in hands (though I severely doubt I would have any use for it this evening). I held little malice towards the concept of standing around for hours if it guaranteed my lords’ safety, but I assure you even the most veteran of knights grow tiresome. As the lords began to gradually make their way to the war room, I could see the child by Lord Uther’s side act up, earnestly tugging at his companion’s cape.

As I had mentioned, I had no permission to eavesdrop on the discussion of lords- especially when they had nothing to do with me. But that did little to stop my curious eyes from observing the child make subtle gesture to Lord Eliwood in milady’s arms. As such a scene, Lady Eleanora’s eyes lit up and she looked over at me, shamefully catching me looking over at the small group.

“Marcus, may you come here a moment?” With little hesitation both to respect milady and to satisfy my own curiosity of the situation, I briskly walked towards her, Lord Eliwood perking up at my approach while our similarly-aged guest stiffening at my approach. “We have some things to discuss, I’m sure you’re aware.” Lady Eleanora needed little else to say before I shifted my spear into one of my hands and prepared to cradle Lord Eliwood in the other.

Lady Eleanora smiled at me and delicately shuffled her son into my arms, Lord Eliwood visibly accustomed to the situation as he was happy to start grabbing at my face once in my possession. I had already planned on embarking for the living room where I would read to Lord Eliwood until their business had concluded, but Lady Eleanora tugged at my spear arm, urging me to lean in closer to her. “I’m sure you’ve noticed Lord Uther’s guest, haven’t you?” It was quite hard not to, considering he was the only other child in the room other than milord. I offered another glance at him and where I expected him to shy away once more, he held my gaze firmly this time.

Lord Uther seemed to sense the one-sided tension between us, for he tugged his cape out of his companion’s grip. “Hector, be nice. This is Marcus- a very good friend to Lord Elbert.” ‘Hector’ immediately became flustered upon Lord Uther’s explanation, offering a quiet ‘oh’ as he straightened up. “Forgive him; this is my little brother, Hector. He’s always been a bit cautious- but he means well.” If I am honest, I had little knowledge of Lord Uther’s family, but I suppose a younger sibling was not totally out of the question.

As I predicted, Lord Uther soon asked of me, to put it bluntly, to babysit Lord Hector while he discussed with milords. When I had been sent to become a knight, I hardly imagined this to be within my field of work. But who was I to reject the requests of Lord, whether they are my own or another house’s.

Lord Hector hardly seemed to be the kind of child to like being held, so I was grateful that I did not have to run to my quarters and place my spear back into its holster in order to carry him a few rooms away. Our two groups began to separate, the adults going off towards the west wing, while the children and I going to the east. But halfway out of the foyer, I felt Lord Eliwood struggle in my arms- something he has hardly done since infancy.

“Milord?” I questioned. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with how I was holding him, so I shifted him a bit in my arms. Yet his struggling persisted and I was left thoroughly confused.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lord Hector inquired- rather rudely, might I ask. “C’mon, say something!”

I had the urge to glare at Lord Hector, but Lord Uther’s words resonated within my mind and I remembered that he was only a child (hopefully he will grow out of this behavior when he is older), so instead I placed my spear on the ground and held Lord Eliwood in both my arms. “What’s the matter, milord; do you need something?”

Lord Eliwood glanced shyly up at me, fiddling with his gown. “Can you put me down?” He whispered, stuttering a little over his words.

I could only assume Lord Eliwood was embarrassed due to the presence of another child, not to mention he himself hardly asks for anything. But I was more than delighted to set Lord Eliwood on the ground. Afterall, I could not spend the rest of my days carrying him about.

Upon setting him down and reclaiming my spear, Lord Eliwood wobbled a bit but nonetheless made his way to Lord Hector’s side. The scene felt comforting to observe; Lord Hector displayed nothing but brash manners since his arrival, yet ever the optimist milord was, Lord Eliwood was willing to work past those ailments to ensure the bond between Pherea and Ostia as they grew older. Of course, I could not help but feel a bit anxious as well; Lord Eliwood has always been a delicate young man, and I am not sure I could explain to milady and Lord Uther if I had to return to them with him crying in my arms and an ashamed Hector trailing behind us.

As the three of us neared the living room, I began to hear Lord Eliwood murmur to Lord Hector. Of course, I had no rights to the private conversations of lords- even if they were seven years old. However Lord Hector seemed to hold little regard for this idea as his voice held little restraint responding to milord. “Can you talk a little louder? How do you expect anyone to be able to talk to you if they can’t even hear you?”

I had full intention of scolding Lord Hector as my eyebrows twitched. Once again, I had little intention of explaining to Lady Eleanora why her son was bawling his eyes out in the mere two minutes she left him alone with me and Lord Hector. Luckily, I would never have to confront such a situation, as milord cleared his throat and stood up a bit.

“I said ‘how do you feel about Pherea so far?”

Lord Hector gave a shrug in response, “It’s alright- not as cool as Ostia though.”

I scoffed at Lord Hector’s response but did nothing more other than open the doorway to the living room, a fire already crinkling to life in the fireplace. As I moved my way to the bookshelf (setting my spear against the doorway), I was still exposed to the conversation between the young lords as they refused to quiet their voices. “What makes you say that? Pherea has so many pretty flowers and really pretty rivers! What’s Ostia like?”

“I don’t know, I just like Ostia more. You guys don’t have a lot of mountains- mountains are cool. They’re so tall and scary, and they just show up out of nowhere!” As I reclaimed the small copy of The Lion and the Mouse off the shelf, the silence enveloping the room told me Lord Eliwood was considering Lord Hector’s response.

“Well when you say it like that… But flowers and rivers are just as show-up-y too. Plus you can get really close to them without worrying about falling off them or getting cold,” Lord Eliwood argued.

“What about falling into rivers? And there are bees by flowers; you could get stung!”

Admittedly, I enjoyed the small banter between the two- it was setting them up to learn to handle the differentiating opinions that would undoubtedly spire between not only them, but with their future councils- even if their current discussion was simply about geography. However I wished to conclude the fairytale I currently held in my hands, so I stepped in between the two physically separating them. “All of those features are beautiful in their own right; mountains are bold and imposing, and they are able to provide protection to civilizations like Ostia. In turn, flowers and rivers are small and delicate, and while they might not have the immediate impression of life-preserving as a mountain might, rivers are able to give us water and provide life to fish, while flowers give life to some birds and insects. They’re both important to us and they both deserve respect.”

The two gazed up at me, partially because they might have had to fully process what I had just said. Lord Hector just huffed at my statement and crossed his arms, shyly encouraging his argument to himself that ‘mountains are still better.’

I could not help but to smile at Lord Hector’s childishness as I opened the book, returning to the page I had left off on. Before I could begin reading however, Lord Eliwood crawled over my lap to rejoin Lord Hector by his side. “Now that I think about it, mountains are pretty cool,” he confessed. Lord Hector looked up and at Lord Eliwood, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Well of course they are!” He replied, a smile ever so present on his young face, Lord Eliwood providing a small giggle in response. “What’s so funny?”

Lord Eliwood just shook his head and began to situate himself in-between Lord Hector and myself. I had expected him to immediately start to cuddle into my side, but rather he sat upright comfortably, shuffling just a bit to fully adjust to his new sitting position.

Lord Hector seemed to care little for seating arrangements, for he opted lay on the ground and to rest his elbows on milord’s lap, balancing his chin on his palms. Lord Eliwood was visibly disturbed for a moment, but he gradually accepted the position as I continued to read where we left off.