#in all honesty i'm still in shock that it's actually over

[hollowflight-propaganda]

Ngl, I'm pretty excited to revisit arc 3 + Dragonslayer for my series reread because book 11 is the only one of those I've done a proper reread of, and that was 4 years ago

I'm also excited about that because then I can imagine my own complex rewrite for it all :)

[sukunas-wife]

I wonder how would Yuji react to the news that he is going to be an older brother. Also, I'm just picturing little Yuji being protective of momma the entire pregnancy. He wants to look after his mom like big daddy Sukuna.

It took a while- and I mean this as in this ask was from January 😭 and I hate when I actually become active, my life decides it wants to pick up also

But 🤍🤍🤍

Yuji is confused but excited when you sit him in your lap and tell him, “Yuji, I have good news.” He just smiled up at you with starry eyes hoping you’ve gotten him another pet. “Yes?” “You’re going to be an older brother.”

His smile drops and he pouts for a second, “No pet?” You have to tell him no and explain what you mean by he’s going to be an older brother. The moment he learns his brother or sister is in your stomach he’s quick to stand between your legs pressing his ear to your stomach trying to listen and see if he can hear them.

“I don’t hear anything… it’s empty.” He pats your belly lightly with hand before saying “hellooo.” You have to hold back your laugh as you run a hand over his head brushing back his hair. “You won’t hear anything for a while. Maybe when they get bigger you’ll get to feel them kick and you’ll know they’re there.”

He nodded his face with a serious look holding his little fists, “They gotta get bigger.” You couldn’t fight back squeezing him in a hug and he laughed hugging you back just a tight.

Of course he forgets your holding his sibling captive in your stomach. Until, you’re out on a walk to the village and a man runs right into you and your swollen stomach while holding a heavy crate of fruit.

All he remembers was his dad holding the man by his neck with one hand, threatening to cut the man alive with the nails on his other hand and telling him since he felt generous he’d let him live for now.

After taking the man’s crate of fruit that he abandoned, you were already scavenging through it for something. Stopping only when you felt your husband stare and you smiled sheepishly at him. “What? The baby’s hungry.” Sukuna sighed, “But is it well?”

Of Course when you stood up holding a mango and patting your stomach, “Just excited, it started kicking the moment you yelled at that man. I get the feeling it’ll come to be another replica.” You scoffed with a smile before holding the mango to him, “Will you please?”

That’s when it kicks into Yuji, “I GOTTA MAKE SURE NO ONE HURTS MOMMY!”

He’s the incarnation of this c:<

Now that he’s seen his dad do it, in the palace the servants beware of Young Yuji. He once saw a male servant walking towards you with a knife, and with all his might ran at the man and tackled him screaming.

The servant man cut his own hand while falling, profusely apologising to Yuji for getting blood on his suit and for dirtying your fruit knife. You were shocked, staring at the scene before you dismissed the servant telling him not to worry about it and to tend to his wound while you sat Yuji on your lap. You couldn’t help but smile and hug your boy while he rambled on about how he showed that man not to mess with his mom.

After a stern talking too and explaining he needed to watch people before just running at them full force he understood his assignment. Even more when his dad called on him to “speak” with him alone.

In all honesty your beloved husband dropped a heavy hand on his head in a prideful way, his massive hand shaking Yuji’s head around while showing his affection. Yuji, who was used to it, was happy and smiling big. Then came his dad’s serious face. He sat Yuji infront of him on the floor. It was his father but he was still an intimidating man when he became serious.

“Yuji, I need you to understand that I may not always be around. As my son, my only son, my first born child, I’m going to trust you to take care of your mother and your sibling. You’re young, but I know you are more than capable of putting a few petty fools in their place. I need you to understand that I’m trusting you, not only with your mother, but my wife. One of the few things I would risk everything to protect, even more when your sibling is in its way. I don’t want you to think that I’m putting all of this weight on you, but there are very few in this world I trust, and I’m trusting you. Please understand how important this is to me, and how important it should be to you. Your burdens are mine to carry, your mothers are mine to carry, I won’t push my own onto either of you, but now I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I knew you weren’t capable or trustworthy.” Yuji sat there staring up at his dad, who was staring down at him. Yuji smiled brightly out of nowhere before tilting his head to the side. “Taking care of our family isn’t a burden.”

It was interesting for Yuji the more your stomach swole. He watched his dad kneel in front of you pressing his ear to your stomach tapping on it like it were a melon listening to see if it were good. Yuji became curious and wanted to listen also. It led you to laugh when he felt it moving.

He was scared, saying it felt like a snake moving around. And just like his dad he was smiling like a fool when your child would give a strong kick to their hands for tapping and bothering them so frequently.

Yuji thought it was funny how sometimes his dad would stand behind you and lift your stomach with his lower set of arms. And you’d always perk up and be happier. So, one day when he noticed you complaining and whining while rubbing your stomach and back he did his best to stand in front of you and push your stomach up so he could lift up some of the weight.

Of course you cried and let him panic, almost dropping the entire weight of your stomach, until you placed a hand on his head smiling at him with teary eyes. His scared face fell into a soft smile, you couldn’t fight back squishing his cheeks. “My sweet boy, you’ve been helping me so much.” Caressing his face with a soft hand he can’t help but smile wider, shrugging his shoulders up as he let out a giggle. Of course not being as well built as his father he was caving in the first five minutes which made you laugh as you sat down only to have him tuck a pillow under your stomach to try and help you. He stood there looking at you hopefully.

He was smiling big when you smiled down at him, placing a hand on his head, ruffling hair in a far more gentle manner. He loved your little head pats and head rubs, they always made him feel loved when neither of you could find the words.

It was a humid spring day, and you were currently curing your husband for not getting you pregnant in the spring so you could at least have the comfort of the cool winter on your skin when you were laying on your bed more than anything else in your final days.

Laid out on your back you had felt your child shift a while ago. The movement had disappeared not long after that, but you were certain you were going to be prone to peeing yourself if it didn’t stop pressing against your bladder soon. Still, here you were, hands in your stomach feeling your intestines grumble as the little bit of fruit you ate started to move and settle.

Yawning and stretching while arching your back relieved you a bit before you slid down into your bed further. The blankets and sheets had been thrown over to the side where your husband was just laying before he got up to bring you cool water. The sun was setting but the rainstorms had left the day and night humid in an incredulous manner. You cursed your husband for being a man who could walk around without a shirt in this heat.

To think all those months ago at the summers peak when you complained that you couldn’t and he stripped you saying of course you could, was the same day he had actually gotten you pregnant upset you more. You refused to listen to his reasoning as you laid there in your thin white under robes.

You remember Yuji’s birthday, a woman was killed that day because she was too eager to see your husband and you were walking around like a badass with contractions for 8 hours. Now look at yourself, whining at the heat as you struggled to sit up, Yuji not only had softened you but also his father who was currently walking in yawning while holding a clay pitcher topped with a cup. “I brought it.”

He sat beside you placing the pitcher on your night stand as he helped lift you up to sit. You both sat in silence as he watched you drink your water and whine about wanting to stand and get out of that hot room.

He helped you up supporting your weight on his side as you waddled the cold floors of your shinden zukuri. You both came across Yuji’s room, you laughed quietly as you heard him snoring through the door. “He’s tired, he’s been with me everyday for the last month doing everything now.” Sukuna hummed, taking your hand and squeezing it, “That’s our son.”

You smiled up at him, you saw the shift in his face as he smiled at you which quickly changed when yours did. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you when you heard that heavy trickle of water. Both of you looking down, you knew well enough what was coming next.

—- —- —- —- —-

It didn’t take long for your daughter to come into the world.

It took longer for a frightened Yuji to walk in and see his sister. He slowly walked into your side as his dad nudged him forward.

You cooed at your boy squeezing him into your side and rubbing his shoulder and arm in a comforting way. He leaned against your shoulder and stared at the bundle in your arms, pink hair, pale skin, little angry fists and pout as she whined. “She looks just like dad….” You laughed, accidentally jostling the child in your arms. Yuji smiled at you before turning to smile at his dad who had the same angry pout only directed at his words, “I DON'T look like that.”

You smiled and kept rubbing Yuji’s arm, “Do you want to hold her while she’s sleeping?” You tried to shuffle your way up the bed to sit before Yuji held your arm down, “I’ll take care of her mom, so you can sleep.” His bright eyed smile warmed your heart, as you did your best to guide him on how to hold his sister.

Sukuna was right there with Yuji watching him as you leaned back into your bed feeling the exhaustion weigh over you. You wanted to rest a bit only to hear Yuji’s small voice, “‘m gonna take care of you, I’m your big brother, I'll always protect you.” Through squinted eyes you could see Sukuna place a heavy hand on Yuji’s shoulder smiling down at him, Yuji was cooing and smiling at his little sister Anya.

Tag list: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille

[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: You have another allergic reaction

In all honesty, you didn't really think it was that serious.

Nutrition meetings at Barcelona were a lot more in depth than what you were used to at Arsenal. They took ages and were full of information that would probably be interesting if you actually cared but, alas, nutrition had never been as interesting to you as other subjects so you tended to just zone out.

You were handed a new smoothie with some kind of new protein powder in or something you would have known if you actually listened.

You drank it.

That's when things start to get weird.

The nutritionist continues to drone on and you frown, scratching at your neck.

You stare down at your bottle for a moment as your throat goes all scratchy and intense.

You force yourself to swallow before glancing around.

Your throat gets a bit tighter.

No one else seems to be having such a reaction so you unscrew the top of your bottle to peer inside. You sniff the mixture before standing up.

You can feel people watch as you make your way over to the first aid kit at the front of the room. Your throat has fully closed up now and you know that you're turning alarmingly red and probably breaking out in hives.

Honestly, you feel a little bit shocked how you're even conscious right now but you grab your epipen and stab it into your leg.

"Banana," You say plainly," I can't eat that."

Even with the adrenaline now pumping through your system, you slide your way down the wall to sit on the floor, breathing in deeply.

The room erupts into chaos the moment you sit down.

The medical staff come in to check your blood pressure and your throat and the expiration date of your epipen. The nutritionist leading the session is going absolutely ballistic yelling at one of her assistants for not checking the allergy sheets before making and handing out the smoothies.

Talia looks close to tears as she forces her way towards you, practically shoving some of the medics away. "Are you okay? Is it bad? Do I need to call your mums?"

"No! Don't call my-"

Talia's already gone out into the hall, phone pressed up against her ear.

You wonder which one of your mothers she has in her contacts.

Surely not Morsa because she's still in that stage where she's pretending to hate your girlfriend but you can't remember your Momma and Talia interacting enough to have swapped numbers and you know for certain that you weren't one to hand out people's numbers without explicit permission.

As the medics fuss and the nutritionist yells, the team also gather around to check that you're alright but you just give them a gallant shrug.

"I'm fine," You say," The epipen did its work."

"I think I'd prefer if you take the day off," The head of the medical team says," Just to be safe. You can come back tomorrow."

You know better than to argue with him so you just nod with a little sigh of annoyance.

"I can take her home," Talia says as she re-enters the room," I've got her."

"I can take a taxi home," You insist.

You and Talia drive in together so only one car is used. If you go home in that car now then she'll have to get a taxi in the middle of rush hour.

"I'll take you home," Talia says," Coach can spare me at training today. Someone's got to make sure you actually follow medical advice."

You roll your eyes. "I swear you've been hanging out with my Momma behind my back." You take the hand she offers to help you stand. "You sound just like her."

You end up back home fairly quickly, curled up on the sofa and practically forced to take a nap.

Prins joins you, curled up in the bend of your knee. Reina settles on the top of the sofa behind your head, completely stretched out and at ease with herself while Kung manages to wiggle himself between your arms to nap there.

You don't know how long you nap for but it must be a while because the sun is setting when you wake up and you can smell Talia cooking up your favourite pasta dish in the world.

You sit up.

You've definitely been sleeping for a while because Reina has migrated to her cat tree, poking her head out of the cave to watch Kung bounce around the floor in outrage at not being allowed up there with her.

Prins has taken Kung's place between your arms and his tongue rolls out of his mouth in a semblance of a dopey smile when he notices you awake, his tail beginning to wag happily.

"Hi, little man," You say, gently scratching between his ears," Did you keep me company?"

Prins' tail wags even more fiercely than before.

"Didn't want to leave your side."

You jolt, shrieking and Prins whines a little.

"Morsa! What are you doing here?!"

"Talia called your Momma," Morsa says, tucking the blanket more firmly around your body," Your allergies acted up."

"I dealt with it," You insist," You didn't have to fly out."

"Yes, we did," Morsa replies," Because if we waited for you to tell us, it would take weeks!"

You puff out your cheeks. "I wouldn't want to worry you over something so silly."

"Are you calling your allergies silly again?" Momma says. She enters with two plates worth of food and you sit up.

Prins leaps down to wander over to his own dog bed. Seeing him lying there, Kung wanders over, jumping up onto Prins' back to finish napping there as Reina ducks her head back into her cave.

"No, Momma," You mumble, accepting your food as Morsa takes a seat on the armchair and Momma to the left of you, leaving an empty space for Talia, who also brings out food for herself and Morsa before taking her own seat.

"Are you feeling better, mi vida?" She asks," You look better."

You nod. "I feel fine. My leg aches a little but that's expected."

"We'll put an icepack on it once we've finished eating. Prins was very worried about you."

Prins raises his head at the mention of his name, tail wagging.

"He's good boy."

Morsa grins from across the room. "I knew getting you a dog was a good idea."

Momma scoffs. "You told me that we should have gotten her a fish."

Morsa coughs to clear her throat and mumbles," Don't lie, Pernille."

"You wanted to get me a fish?" You laugh in disbelief," And you say Rocky is the most disappointing pet in the world."

"Are you really saying your pet rock is more exciting than a fish?"

"Am I?" You pretend to think for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

[kuniihoonii]

Don't Leave Me

Warnings: angst, hurt comfort(?), Scaramouche has suicidal thoughts, he has trust issues. Not proof read. Feel free to correct any spelling mistakes !

You both know each other and you never left Scaramouche's side however his trust issues don't let him believe you won't actually leave him.. maybe up until now.

A/N: hellaur~ had a small idea for angst scara since I'm still heartbroken over the fact that no one caught him after the battle so 😔 had to make a drabble of it <3. It's been a while since I wrote soooo finally got something going. I have more thoughts for writing ideas !! Hopefully I'll come around to them soon.

Nahida and Traveler had just left the joururi workshop where they battled with Scaramouche. Now he's left hanging from his machine by the wires that connect to his back. Tears rolling down his cheeks but he doesn't make a sound. He's looking blankly at the ground which is a couple feet up away from him.. he just hopes the fall will take him out now.

He's so tired of living the life where no one wants him and everyone either hurts or betrays him if not both. He's almost counting seconds to his fall until you come in. He doesn't notice you at first. His want to be gone is too loud for him to hear your footsteps.

Meanwhile when you see him your eyes widen. Youve heard there was some fight going on with Scaramouche and you knew you had to come as fast as you could. You know him, you were probably the only one who understood him but his trust issues make it hard for him to understand why you care for him.

So now, you're running up under where his hanging from the machine and that's when you get into his line of vision and his eyes slightly widen at the sight of you.

"you.. what are-" he gets cut off by a snap. The wires connected to his back from the machine break and you catch him before he can hit the ground. You stumble back slightly onto the ground but you still have him in your hold as you're now sitting on the ground.

His eyes are widened in shock.. trying to process why you're here.. and.. is this reality or is he breaking into insanity. The warmth of you body against his, and the feeling of your heart beating against his chest makes him realise this is still reality and you really are here for him.

"why didnt you leave me like the rest of them" He asks you. His voice weak and weary. You hold him closer at the sound of his voice, your heart aching at the sound of him. It's clear he's still so used to people leaving him, betraying him and hurting him. You don't blame him for feeling that way with all that he's been through.

"I don't want to leave you." You tell him with a soft, caring voice which makes him look at you. He subconsciously relaxes into your arms. He's so touch starved, he doesn't want you to let go. His walls start to slowly break down.

"Kuni, you know I'll always be here for you. I've always stuck with you and I won't leave you now, not ever." You tell him and he can hear the honesty in your voice. He lets out a soft sigh as he hears you use his old nickname too.

He closes his eyes, "don't leave me.." is all he has the energy to say. Your heart aches more at his voice. His voice sounding so weak, exhausted.

You let out a soft sigh and hold him closer to you. "I won't leave you. I promise." You say truthfully. There's no more words exchanged between you both. You stay there like that for a moment longer.

He's too tired to keep his guard up and a part of him trusts you. After all.. you wouldn't be there for him right now if you'd plan on leaving him... Right? Your promise makes him feel somewhat at ease too.

He hesitantly wraps his arms around you too and he closes his eyes, melting into your touch as you're the only one bringing him comfort now. You're the only one who's brought him comfort after so long of not having anyone to give him comfort. He really hopes you won't leave him like everyone else did, this thought makes him tighten his arms around you. Scared of losing you too.

You speak up once more to him. "It's okay.. you're okay now. I won't ever leave you, Kunikuzushi". Your words are like a bandage to his wounds.

[heeliopheelia]

"i think i've always loved you" (jungwon x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.9k requested by @miukityy-deactivated20230802 ♡

masterlist

The hallway is unusually silent as you walk through the empty school with an injured Jungwon hanging on your neck. It's an irony, really, that you, out of all people, have been chosen as the one to walk him to the nurse after he'd hurt his ankle in a result of bumping his head with one of his teammates and falling down roughly.

"How's your leg?" You ask to somehow fill the silence, hand gripping his waist tightly.

He shoots you a pointed look before scoffing with slight amusement. "Not the best," he hums, finding humor in your shy words. "I think it might be twisted."

"That would suck," you murmur quietly.

This finally gets a laugh out of him. "Why are you still so awkward around me?" He chuckles, pinching your side playfully. "You really have no reason to be, after all those years. Makes me think you hate me or something."

He's teasing, you know that. But still, his words make you squirm a little because they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

You know it's weird that you're still so tense around him even though you've been, more or less, friends for such long time. But you like to tell yourself that your behavior is absolutely excusable. Because how else is one supposed to act around their long time crush without blowing their cover?

You lower your head, deciding on an honest answer this time. "Funny cause I always felt like you're the one who hates me."

Jungwon snorts from your ridiculous thought. "That's crazy. C'mon, everyone knows I've always liked you." His confession does little to pacify your already pounding heart and just when you think about letting it slide, he goes on almost as if someone treated him with an honesty potion. "No, scratch that. Actually, I think I've always loved you."

The quiet, almost embarrassed mumble just can't go past your ears this time, completely disregarding Jungwon's deepest wish that you didn't actually hear his words. Your body tenses up as you halt your steps, head shooting to the side to cast a shocked glance at Jungwon.

Did you hear that right or are you just this far gone into your delusion?

"What?" You manage to stumble out. His arm wrapped around your shoulders all of sudden leaves a nearly burning trace behind and you shiver slightly. "You really must've gotten it hard in the head, huh?"

Jungwon strangles a groan that bubbles up in his throat, knowing well that this slip up was no one else's fault but his. Oh God, he's really doing this. Running his free hand over his face, he unsuccessfully tries to shake off the sudden nervousness spreading over his system like some kind of a parasite.

"No, what? I wasn't- Okay, fuck, whatever," he breathes out quickly, stumbling over his words and slightly loosening his grip on you to face you better. "I'm in love with you. I mean it. I've been ever since you barged into my class and hit Riki's head with this brick-ass notebook of yours."

You flush at the mention of the memorable momentum from over four years ago. With ears burning, you forget about his injury for a hot moment and step away from his touch, the sudden movement catching Jungwon off guard and causing him to stumble forward with a whine, right back into your smaller frame.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," you rush out the apology, arms instinctively finding their way around his middle again, keeping him steady.

You're left breathless, feeling absolutely each and every emotion striking your heart one by one. And in this moment, looking up at his ever so pretty face, cheeks slightly flushed with pink and eyes wide with nerves; you decide to show your answer through actions rather than words.

So you raise to your tippy toes and capture his lips with yours without even a hint of hesitation. Even if Jungwon's heart literally jumps out of his chest, all hair rise up on his arms and world nearly halts to a stop – he never lets you know any of these things as he dips his head down, allowing you to get more comfortable and settle back on your feet, kissing you twice as intensely as he finally lets go of all the pent up tension in his body.

He presses his lips deeply to yours, drinking every quiet sound that you make as his hand makes its way up to your face, fingers brushing your skin so gently in the total contrast to his relentless mouth biting and bruising yours.

And fuck him for not growing the balls to confess to you sooner.

You let his desperate lips do anything and everything to yours right now, ignoring the tingling that guarantees they're gonna be swollen and burning after he pulls away. But you're way too infatuated and greedy to loosen your grip around his neck.

You're unwillingly forced to break the kiss when your lungs feel as if they're about to collapse, so with one, two, three more pecks to his wet lips, you take a step back, yet not far enough from him to not feel his heavy breath on your face.

"I might like you a little too," you can't help but tease quietly, now finally content with your feelings and watching giddily as a fond smile makes its way to his red lips.

He hums, hands moving to your hips. "Only a little?"

"A tiny bit," you keep the banter up, squirming with a squeal when his fingers dig into your sides in a tickle.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

[dianaburnwood]

THE SPLITTER

SPOILERS AHEAD -

Is this the best elusive target we've ever had???? The LORE on this one? Also very interested in the timeline as 47 and Diana are still working for the ICA in this contract, they're not freelance.

I feel like I have been awakened from Hitman hibernation to freak out over the implications of Valiant and Hei's work on the Romanian programme.

First of all, we have Max Valiant - Jean-Claude Van Damme helloooo - who is a disgruntled ex-ICA agent. The best they had, before 47. Assassinated by his own agency for playing both sides, but Valiant lived, and now has a major bone to pick with the ICA. His master plan is pretty brilliant - giving him the opportunity to take over from his old employer or become their greatest competition - all by creating his own version of Ort-Meyer's work.

This is where my jaw DROPPED.

Valiant has created his own clones. However, they aren't clones like 47, who was born as a baby and raised to adulthood. Valiant, like Ort-Meyer, wanted a way to accelerate the process and have clones who were completely obedient. His clones are grown in tanks to accelerated adulthood - just like Ort-Meyer's 48 series. But in them we see the same flaws. While these clones are excellent, they are inexperienced. Everything they do is mechanically perfect, but it lacks the critical thought that an actual adult has.

Due to this, Valiant's clones are like children. They ask if they've done well, they seek his praise. It's kind of heart-breaking. He pushes them to their physical limits and they do it without question. They are "perfect" and yet lack everything that makes 47 so calculating. They are, in all honesty, innocent.

And so 47 has to take them out. And oh. my. God.

Dressed as a guard he takes over from the one supervising the shooting range. The guard happily tells him he can have the freaks, to which 47 responds with venom: "Think you're the freak."

Because of course. Watching people create clones could not be closer to home for 47. He hates this in as much as he has the emotional capacity for hatred. This makes him as uncomfortable as he can get.

We also get a glimpse of when things go wrong on his project. We have one of the clones in a padded cell, dancing to himself. He is unaware of everything around him. He is childlike in his happiness. And 47 kills him.

The researchers thank 47 for taking him out, saying they couldn't bring themselves to do it. They ask him how he did it with such ease. And 47 responds: "You get numb after a while."

Oh my God????? We rarely get to explore how 47 feels about what he does, because even though there are so many hints throughout the series, he doesn't actually talk about it himself all that much. And numb is such an interesting word choice. Because numb is not indifferent. When you're numb to something, the feelings are still there, but you can't access them. You know they are there, but you are removed from it. Either through shock, or desensitisation, or your brain is protecting you or whatever - you are deprived from the feeling. We've heard from Diana before that 47 knows he is broken and tries to be whole. Here we are getting this from himself, he is numb to what he does. And "after a while" - ahhhhhh???? Now that he has his memory back after Grey, he remembers what it was like to feel and to care. He remembers how he was. He is numb now, but he knows he was not always this way. I'm crying????

Walking into the room with the tanks reminded me so much of Hitman: Contracts when we get that replay of the asylum. All these new clones, grown in tanks instead of raised. I felt sorry for them then, but Valiant's clones have given me an even greater perspective on how these men are essentially children. It's so sad.

Pritchard's open disgust for the whole thing - but also his admitted awe - is another interesting angle for the ICA. I didn't realise before that Pritchard is the ICA's CFO. The board was not aware of what Travis was doing with Victoria in Absolution, and it seems to still be the case that they wish to be "ethical" with their assassination business. But given the cost and the time, I can't imagine that someone on the ICA board wouldn't see the value in what Valiant was doing. And we never find out what the board's answer would have been to Pritchard as he sat on the phone with them during this mission.

Also interesting to me that Hei was not a target. Why did the board authorise the death of Valiant and his clones, and not take out the researcher who made it all possible? Imo, there's material for a whole new game here. I can't imagine that the ICA would not reach out to Hei and have her work for them instead going forward.

My real question is - does Hei know how to restart the program that made 47? Or does she only know about Ort-Meyer's later program that accelerated the growth of the 48 series? Because if she knows how to create new clones the way that 47 was made, and the ICA board sees the value in investing in that rather than in the 48 model, I could see a really interesting future where they start their own child soldier program with Hei. Especially now since Diana and 47 have left the ICA and are essentially their competitors.

[sleepyboywrites]

@justkeepscrollingscrolling

Hey all! In case you missed my last post Tumblr updates ruined my life and asks no longer allow you to save as drafts and then update them. Since I normally don't write all in one session I have quite a few in my drafts currently that I have to get creative in actually answering so that you all still get notified when I get around to your asks. Moving forward I'll just answer in one go but for older asks (ones before I noticed/before the update) will be answered like this! Also I haven't written in a while so I apologize if it's shit.

Save a horse ride a cowboy

Masky knew you were raised on a farm. His favorite, albeit slightly teasing pet name for you was 'Cowboy' or 'Farm hand'. He's seen you carry corpses of fully grown men in one arm since joining the proxies. He had confronted you on multiple occasions how and why and you had replied. "I've hauled hay when our tractor broke and carried a newborn filly to the truck to rush to the vet after she wasn't walkin'. I can hold my own Darlin'." And he had been oh so kind to remind you who you belonged to for your lip and sweet farm boy ways. Yet he still sometimes underestimates your strength and in all honesty it's your own fault.

Play fighting and rough housing was nothing at all new. Mostly because Masky suffers from cuteness aggression and you, farm boy, are sturdy enough to handle it as well as dish it out. You two did it so often that if you didn't people assumed you were fighting fighting. On top of this you had a bad habit of letting Masky win because he's just so cute all smug on victory and everyone likes to be shoved into the couch face first by their partner sometimes cause being manhandled is just as fun as manhandling.

That is until one day, a really busy one, you didn't really have the time nor energy to let him win.

Masky had been extra annoying today. Poking and proding and shoving and basically all over you. Normally no complaints whatsoever but you had a shit ton you needed to get done. The list of cleanup tasks you were assigned today was two pages long and with your boyfriend attacking you at every turn in some form of cuteness aggression taking over and possessing him the second he saw your face, you getting fuck all done. Cleanup from the cannibals of the mansion plus the targets of the main proxies (because apparently scrubbing the remains of EJ's lunch off of the kitchen walls for three hours wasn't enough to deal with) had made for an unusually large amount of work for the sole cleanup crew member, you, and you were over it. So as Masky tried to tackle you in greeting for the fifth time today hoping to instigate you to wrestle him and to in turn win and coerce you to get a little 'closer', you just held your ground picked up the corpse in one arm, pried his arms off with a "Hold on Darlin' I have work to finish and I'm running behind. Later." And walked away.

Masky had stood there for a moment with a confused look on his face before the realization struck and he remembered his view of you and your 'softness' was heavily skewed. But once the shock disappears he became determined to genuinely tackle you. Stalking, lurking, and hunting you as you attempted to finish your work as Cleanup. He had proven himself to be quite the pain in your ass as you avoided his attacks and eventually lost him all together getting to finish the long list of tasks you had been assigned. You took a shower changed clothes and were scrolling on your phone on the couch when you finally sensed him again.

His vaguely pissed off and irked in general aura slowly approaching you from behind. You pretended not to notice that he's approaching and place your arms over his as he hugs you, clearly mopey, from behind. "Hm... So we're doing angry cuddles now, are we love?"

Masky didn't reply shoving his face into your neck, you could feel his intrusive thoughts to bite you, his hesitation to do so. Masky begins walking away from you and into the kitchen.

Without warning you chase after him and pick him up as he shouts and squirms playfully trying to escape your grasp and flip the script, "Look, I'm sorry I was avoidin' you, 'm not angry at you darlin, I was just overbooked on what needed done. Now quit your moping." You explained as you threw and pinned him to the couch. Masky going fully silent and still as you pin him down, giving you an odd territorial and excited look. "What?" You ask as he stares up at you, an eyebrow raised.

"Save a horse..." He replied looking you up and down. As it slowly processes in your head what he's referring to and you scoff and chuckle as you shake your head.

[local-crying-boy]

Hi!i don't know if your ask is open,but if you feel like it,could we maybe get a Viktor with an s/o who preffers staying up and working as well unless he comes to bed with them?

Not Without You.

Gender Neutral! Reader X Viktor

A/N: You asked and I shall deliver :D

——————————————————————————————————

Pairing: Viktor X Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: One-Shot, fluf, established romantic relationship

Warnings: Short fic

Summary: After a long day of work, Viktor expects you to go to sleep due to the late hour, but you refuse to unless he comes up with you.

Word Count: 700

——————————————————————————————————

Translations:

My dove = мой голубь

I love you = Я тебя люблю

I love you too = Я тоже тебя люблю

Love = любовь

——————————————————————————————————

The two of you sat in almost complete silence, the only sound that echoed throughout the room was the scratching of pencils on paper. It was well into the night, you both knew that, the sounds of faint chatter and footsteps from outside of the lab were no longer heard.

You wondered when Viktor was going to leave, hoping that your boyfriend was actually going to go to his room this time. You didn’t mind the company, since you’d often stay up, but also worried for how how sleep Viktor was actually getting.

Viktor glanced at the clock, then turned to you, "It's late, you should be getting to your room."

You chuckled at him, "You should be heading up too, Viktor."

"Well, I have important work to be doing." He quickly said, "You know how much I have to do." He meant no malice in his statement, he had no intention to come off rude and you knew that, he was just stating a fact that you both knew.

"Then I'll stay with you and help, I'm your assistant, remember?" You smiled, pulling your chair closer to him and looking over his work, "We can split it, I have nothing to do. In all honesty, I finished my work about half an hour ago and was only proof reading it."

Viktor looked at you with concern, "любовь, you should get rest, it is important you take care of yourself."

“Not without you.” You simply said, smiling as you put your arms on the desk leaning on it as you looked at him, “Now either we can finish this now, or we head up to bed now and leave it for the morning.”

Viktor stared at you with narrowed eyes. He couldn't just abandon this important work because you wouldn't go to your room without him, right? It wasn't like he wanted to prioritise his work over his love for you, but sometimes he really did question if the work he and Jayce were doing was too important to ignore.

"You work to hard, love." You said gently, your voice as sweet as honey to his ears. "You can take a break, no body is asking you to work until you drop dead."

He had let out a small huff of air, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. This would have been seen as a moment of annoyance to some, but with Viktor's often exhausted appearance, you've learnt over the years that it was just him being so tired that his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open.

'A sign he should take a break' you've told him several times throughout the time you have, not only worked with him, but dated him.

Viktor took a few moments to reply, he looked over at you with a small expression of shock, he sighed quietly. "You won't go to your room unless I do too, will you?"

You grinned at him, your usual bright smile that Viktor loved to see. "No, no I will not."

He let out a small smile, but you knew that a part of him just wanted for you to go to bed so that you didn’t end up developing unhealthy sleeping habits similar to his.

He shook his head as he muttered quiet words under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but you knew they wouldn’t hold any malice since you could still see that smile pulling on his lips. He stood up, hauling himself up with his cane and looked up at you.

“Come on, then.” He said with a quiet sigh, his ever so small grin still remaining on his face.

You smiled over at him and stood from your chair, walking over to the door with him on your right. The soft sound of the bottom of his cane hitting the floor and both of your shoes clicking against the ground being the only thing you could hear for a few moments.

You then turned to him with a big smirk plastered on your lips, a smile that he would never be able to get enough of. "I knew I could make you cave in."

"Congratulations, мой голубь." Viktor said with a quiet laugh. "You've bested me, then."

Masterlist

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter One

jackson!joel miller x witch!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

He thinks he might fall in love with her. She can't let him fall in love with her. Or: a reimagined take on an infamous Practical Magic au by yours truly.

wordcount | 6.1K

series content info | 18+ slowburn-ish, strangers to friends to lovers to estranged acquaintances to ???, discussions of death and grief, a little magic, just a little, jackson era joel and all that entails, eventual smut, angst obviously, and love that requires a little elbow grease.

a/n | yeeeehaw, here we go. I have to just say, it was so damn fun writing this, and while I haven't gotten started on chapter two quite yet (hello, finishing undergrad, you thankless wench) I'm real excited to get started soon. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, thank you for reading.

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

He doesn’t understand this world of a town. Two months, maybe three, actually, and still not used to any of it. Not used to warm water and light switches that work. Not used to three whole meals, not used to whole anything. Tomatoes and peaches, sweet snap peas, the taste of summer. Not used to people living so closely and not trying to kill each other. He feels like a livewire strung taut, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the catch of it all. He’s starting to think there is no catch. And if there is no catch, he’s worried he’ll get too comfortable, too soft.

The people of Jackson live a different life. May as well be on a different planet. And as such, they treat him and the kid with a pitiful patience and a cautious distance. Careful, feral animals, still being housebroken, still learning not to eat with their hands and swear in the dining hall. Still learning not to flinch, or do much worse, when a friendly hand is placed on their shoulders. This strange world, strange life he’s walked into, and he’s pretty sure it’s not for him. But he wants it to be for Ellie, so he tries. 

In this world, help is expected, and given freely. White-knuckling isn’t requisite, there are things that can be done for a fever besides waiting it out, ways to relieve a little suffering. Time and space, a luxury, he thinks. And so when the kid came home with a bloom of welts on her palms and up her bare shins, unaware of how easily poison ivy can spread, there was, for once, something he could actually do about it. 

Tommy was the one who clued him in. The little shop that sits a few storefronts down from the Tipsy Bison which, in all honesty, he had never paid any mind to. He doesn’t get out much to begin with though, so that says very little. Unassuming, peeling blue paint and tall windows obscured by bursts and blooms of plants. A piece of smooth wood has been turned into a sign hanging above the door, letters seared into the grain. Apothecary.

He calls out, hesitant when he steps inside, unsure now if he came at the right time. No one in sight, the shop sits perfectly quiet, still, just the hum of a fan tucked into one of the windows, sending a faint shiver through the plants around it. He’s admittedly surprised by the sight, not that he had been expecting the clinical white of a pharmacy. Still, the shock of green all around him, warm clay pots on wooden benches, vines and leaves spilling over the edges like languid limbs in repose. Lush and strange, he steps further into the shop, foliage brushing against his shoulders, the cool, damp smell of earth. He calls out again, still silence.

There’s something that looks like an old checkout counter further back, a rusted-out cash register that now has thin vines growing along and in between the keyboard. The remnant stub of a receipt sits in its mouth, he thinks he can make out 2003, ink all but faded away. But the strangest of all things, as he’s studying the slumped machine. Someone else joins him. Or something else. 

“Well, look at you.” It doesn’t exactly startle him, more like a small kick in his chest at the intrusion. Like black ink, sleek and shine and slipping up onto the counter, all ease, perched and staring at him. He thinks a bit idly to himself that he hasn’t seen too many cats in the last two decades. And this cat looks well taken care of, maybe even a little prim, if a cat can look such a way, sitting on its haunches and looking at him, unblinking, unwavering, and a little unsettling. Little impulse, before he can think too hard about it, he holds his hand out, a scratch between the ears that’s rebuffed as soon as it’s accepted, little snit and swipe, the sharp pin prick sting of blood over his knuckles. He presses his other palm over the small throb, the cat long gone by the time he has half a mind to look for it. 

“Did she get you?” Now that does get a jolt out of him. Animals are easier. But people, well. He looks to his left, then to his right, deeper into the shop. He sees her hair before he really sees her. Piles of curls, gray starting to bleed through all that darkness. She’s standing in a doorway he hadn’t seen before, the cat rubbing its cheek against her shin. Somehow, he feels like he’s been told on, thick flood of something warming up the back of his neck.

“Just a scratch, think I deserved it though.” Somewhere around his age, he thinks, maybe a little younger. Her eyes do a lift and crinkle when she smiles, stepping closer to him. He sees the same years he recognizes in his own face, though she certainly wears it better, tempered smile, glasses getting pushed up into her hair, more mane now than anything else. What was he here for again?

“You’re Joel Miller.”

“I am, how did–”

“Tommy told me he was sending you my way. I didn’t know a person could come with a warning label.” Something southern in her voice, little twang, little twinge. Her words rasp just a bit, and it sounds like kindness, like a sharpness that could turn sour, though she keeps it sweet, tilt of her head, sweet. 

“I guess my reputation precedes me then.”

“It’s a small town.”

“I’m starting to catch onto that.” The cat has taken an insistent twine between his legs, chewing at his shoelaces, until she, still nameless to him, hooks her arm around its belly, easy as anything, and Stevie’s a little curious is all, sending the creature slinking off and away from them, disappearing between all the green. 

“I’m sorry, older I get the less I remember my manners. I’m Maggie.” Palm extended, and when he takes it, it’s like that thing he and Tommy used to do as kids, bored out of their minds and making a game of shuffling in their socks, fingertip shocks to the backs of each other’s necks, just a quick gasp of static, there and gone.

“Tommy said you could help me out with something for poison ivy?” Oh, she says, mostly pantomime when she takes her hand back and wipes it on the thigh of her jeans, is it for you? He’s surprised how easily that makes him laugh.

“No, it’s, well, it’s my kid, got it pretty bad.” 

“Your daughter is in luck then. I’m almost sure every kid in Jackson under the age of sixteen gets it at least once, and I treat every single one of them.” A slip, a stutter, because did she? Did he? He must have, right? Must have used that word, daughter, for her to say it. Even though he’s pretty sure he didn’t, pretty sure of his pause, but he can’t give it any more thought because she, Maggie, has already turned heel, a cursory look over her shoulder at him that tells him, yes, he should be following her further back into the shop. 

“So, witch hazel is going to be your daughter’s new best friend. Soak a little of this into a cloth or towel and dab it onto the rash a few times a day, you really can’t overdo it though.” He’s trying to keep up, really, nodding and mmhmming as she hands him a small bottle, already onto the next thing, her glasses now sliding down to the end of her nose as she looks through drawers and cabinets, plucking out things that look like old shoe polish tins, jars covered with cloth toppers. A mix of method and madness, a grace to her movements, though something skittish is threaded through. Bird of prey, he thinks, something of fierce and feather in all that motion.

A combination of workshop and kitchen makes up what he thinks is the backroom of the shop, large butcher block taking up most of the middle of the room, back door propped open with something that, frankly, looks like an urn. An impressive-looking range spans the back wall, and he thinks that, maybe, in the before, some kind of restaurant. But now, very different means to very different ends. 

“Alright, this’ll help most with the itching. It’s a bit potent, so just tell her to take a little bit, warm it up between her palms, and rub it over the worst spots.” Ultimately, he’s left with a bottle, a small tin, and a few sachets of oatmeal bath soak, only half sure he got all her directions, trying to balance listening to her, and letting his eyes wander over all the cabinets, dried plants and variously odd containers spilling out from everywhere. Head spinning, already spun out actually, and he can’t help but wonder how he’s just now meeting this woman, a strange sense that she’s important, though why, or to whom, he isn’t sure. 

“That should have Sarah all cleared up in about a week, but if it’s still persisting–” 

“I’m sorry–” Whatever he’s sorry about, it cracks and fails in his chest. Like he’s been winded, or maybe wounded, a sort of deep suckerpunch shock hearing that name come from a stranger’s mouth. He has to clear his throat before he speaks again, posing it like a question, you said Sarah? And there’s a peculiar thing that happens in the silence, the quick pass of her eyes over his face, pull of her brow like she’s the one that’s confused. But whatever it is, it’s gone just as quick, lines smoothing, a smile so small it can only be apologetic. That queasy twist in his gut has loosened, but there’s still something unsettled, that lingering static all over his skin. 

“I thought I heard that was your kid’s name, but judging by your reaction I  must be getting people mixed up again.” She says something else, something about taking care, a lot of folks around here pass through my hands, sometimes they blur together. He believes that well enough, still uncertain about the rest, though too skittish to do anything other than drop it. That name isn’t for anyone else, not even a bird of prey, so he keeps it folded up close and tight between his ribs and lets out a sigh to blow out all of his held breath, slumping civility.

“No, it’s alright, I’m not too good with names myself.”

“Well, there hasn’t been much need for that in this world, don’t you think?” 

“I guess not, though I’m getting the sense it’s a little different around here.” It seems like a nervous thing, a pulse point reassurance in the way she brushes a hand back through her hair, lets her palm curl at the nape of her neck for a moment, then hand to wrist. Never still, she’s done it a few times now just standing here talking to him, though her words come easy, if not a little sharp, a single, high note of a laugh.

“Oh yeah, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to work on that, unless you wanna hurt some poor bird’s feelings, you know.” Wave of her hand, you know, and the thought occurs to him, errant, that this is the most normal conversation he’s had with someone since deciding not to leave. And quickly after that, the thought that he doesn’t hate it, this, doesn’t hate normal, doesn’t want normal to stop. For once, he feels like he can do normal. For once, it feels easy.

“Any advice?”

“What, on assimilating?” That word rolls languid and loose off her tongue, making a joke out of it as she pronounces each syllable, that sour twang pitching up another key. He nods, try me.

“Give it time, the names that matter will shake out eventually. In the meantime, just avoid direct eye contact and the rumor mill will leave you alone, relatively speaking.” 

“That right?” Shrug, sigh, she tilts her head to the side, smile going slanted and shoulder hiked, it’s been working for me, kinda, sorta. His eyes trail the slope of her collar bone, bare now with how the sleeve of her shirt has slid a little askew. Sunspots, a silver knick of a scar, paper thin and fine.

“Ellie, that’s, um, well, my kid’s name.”

“Got it, and you’re Joel.”

“And you’re Maggie.”

“Look at you, already getting better at it.”

“Is that short for something?” 

“Unfortunately, my mother saddled me with Magdalene.”

“Don't hear that one often.”

“Nope, she was a little, well–”

“Eccentric?”

“I was going to say righteous, but that works too.” 

“Religious then?”

“In a way, yes, you could say that. You too? Joel sounds very bible-y.” 

“My folks were, I never really acquired a taste for it though.” 

“Hmm, amen.” Easy, easy, easy, until time does that thing it always does, starts to fissure beneath that delicate freeze. She glances at her watch, a polite sigh, and he notices the thin band on her finger, a foolish drop of disappointment souring his stomach, trying, and failing, to double check if it was her left, if it was her ring finger. Not that it matters though, not that it would, or could matter. Already on the move, something about a colicky baby I have to go check in on, leading him back out to the front of the shop, and he finally remembers the bottle and tins he’s holding, what he came here for in the first place. 

“I appreciate all this, really, just name your price and–”

“Oh, no, consider it a welcome gift. I hope Ellie starts feeling a little better.” And he wants to accept that, her kindness, and how easily she offers it. But there’s no muscle left in him for that, weak and wilted and wary of shoes dropping, catches, and being caught. Whatever remains in its place, she notices it, that nervous hesitation, that one step back, that shifted glance toward the exit, softening some of her sharpness. And it’s not pity, because he knows pity, seen a lot of pity in these few months he’s been here. No, not that, something simpler and saner. Seeing and being seen, the cool slip of relief from it. 

“I might have an idea for a trade if you’re up for it.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Tommy said you’re handsy–” She stops herself with a gasp that sounds like a hiccup, seemingly just as stunned as he is by the word, hair falling in her face with the shake of her head, little laugh, little brightness. Handy, oh my god, I meant handy. 

“I’m sorry, clearly I don’t get out much, lord.” All hands, talking with her hands, palm to her forehead, then back through her hair, quick flickers, he tries to track that ring through its orbit, a dizzying  effort. Hummingbird hands, a woman who is all wings.

“It’s alright, reckon you’re still better at this than I am.”

“On the contrary, I think you’ve been the picture of civility.”

“Will you tell Tommy that?” 

“I’m sure I can put in a good word.”  He’s lingering, or maybe she is, or maybe they both are. Not used to this, taking time for time’s sake. 

“I am though. Handy, I mean, if you need help fixing something?” She does, she tells him, stair railing that’s come so loose she’s worried she’s going to go right through it one of these days. And it’s been twenty years since he’s been in a world in which people worry about the upkeep of their stair railing, but it’s an easy fix, he tells her, he can do that, he tells her. Sunday? Sunday works fine. They shake on it, stepping out of the shop into the mid-day glare of sun, her with a deep canvas bag hanging off her shoulder. She squints at him, it was nice meeting you, and he says the same, and finds himself actually meaning it. But there’s still something strange slicking up and down his spine, he’s reminded of it watching her walk off in the other direction, though he’s not really watching her any more, but the people she passes by.

Small town, close town, everyone knowing everyone else, names pinned down under thumbs. Ellie had let out a loud what the fuck when a stranger greeted them, by name, the first time they went to the dining hall for dinner. He’s been feeling a similar way about all the greetings, all the good neighbors doing what good neighbors do. But Maggie gets none of that walking down the block. No smiles, no tipped chins, no knowing and being known. He swears he even sees a few swept away glances, a few steps back the closer she gets. If it bothers her, she doesn’t show it, a sort of easy sway to her gait, walking hips-first, there, and there, and then gone when she turns a corner. Strange, and stranger even, when he looks down and notices that the puddle of black ink is chewing on his shoelaces again. 

Little trouble, yellow eyes that round and narrow on him, he takes one step, and little trouble follows him, close on his heels. He imagines that they’re putting on an absurd show walking down the main drag of town, him stopping every few steps to turn around and see that yes, little trouble is still following him, though at an admittedly respectable distance, settling back on its haunches and staring him down every time he glances back over his shoulder. Little trouble follows him all the way to the front steps of his house, seeming to finally lose interest in favor of a bee humming lazy around a patch of weeds. The last thing he sees of little trouble is pink-padded paws batting at dandelions, curled-lip grin and white fang chewing on stems, beheading thick yellow manes. 

… 

She lives on the other side of town. Older builds, he thinks, been here longer, windows with glass that warbles a little in its age like melted sugar, and deep-set porches washed with dark blue shadows in the early morning light. Cottonwood trees sway and dip, old limbs that arc and curl over the cracked-up sidewalk, slumbering giants making the sounds of all the small life it hosts. It’s a side of Jackson he hasn’t seen until now and it reminds him of a younger, simpler time. 

The town follows an old rhythm, late starts on Sunday. There’s even a church somewhere, though he’s not particularly concerned with finding it anytime soon. It’s still early enough, however, that he’s one of the few people already up and out. She told him to come as early as he wanted, really, I’ll be up. And he sees for himself that she was being honest, because when he walks up to the house she told him to look for, he finds her waging a zealous war with a rose bush in her front yard, and it doesn’t seem like she’s winning. 

When he told his brother he had taken his advice, he was met with a surprising amount of interest, talking quietly over a shared drink and well, what did you think?

I didn’t realize you were waiting for my report.

She’s a little different is all, does things her own way.

Well, she got the kid fixed up. 

I had no doubt she would.

I’m helping her on Sunday with something, as a trade.

Oh?

Stair railing in her house is loose. Been a long time since I thought about stair railing.

Wait, you’re going to her house?

Yes.

Into her house?

I’d presume so. Is that a problem?

No, just surprising. 

Why’s that?

She keeps to herself, not exactly one to make friends, though I don’t blame her with the way– well, people can be cruel, I guess.

What’s that supposed to mean? 

There’s talk, stupid stuff really. For what it’s worth I like her just fine.

Talk, his brother said. People spinning stories out of fear, or maybe something weaker than that. He’s been gathering up some of that talk all week, enough of it to make his head spin. The only thing he’s sure is truth, Maggie was here before Jackson was even called Jackson, just a nameless group of people that somehow managed to survive, until it became something else entirely. The rest, however, weft and warp of fact and fiction. Plenty of good words, broken bones set back in place and flu seasons weathered, babies born and grown, though the praise seems to be given with a reluctant respect, skittishly, but, well. But, well, something strange about her, isn’t there? He’s heard plenty of strange too. Strange, the way she talks to the wind, and the way it seems to listen. Strange, that cat of hers, with lingering eyes that watch and watch and watch, a shadow showing up in all the close, quiet places. Strange, whatever it is she keeps on the stove in the back of her shop. He asked Ellie if she’s heard anything, and she, pleased with herself, offered up a fantastical report of flight and dancing naked under the full moon, a perfectly tall tale he could imagine the children of Jackson passing around a classroom. 

One thing he hasn’t heard anything about, the ring and whichever finger she wears it on. His right, her left, she’s still wearing it this morning, simple silver glinting and a pair of garden shears aloft in her hand. She smiles sheepish when she sees him, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t be. 

“Those are pretty.” She doesn’t seem to realize he’s talking about the roses, big white blooms that she absently looks at over her shoulder, scoffing, her mouth screwed to the side. 

“They’re useless is what they are, taking up too much space and overcrowding the rest of my plants.” As he gets closer, stepping beyond the gate and into the front yard, he sees the errant chaos of her work, stray petals and entire threads of flowers lopped off around her feet. She’s a little breathless as she speaks, back of her hand to her forehead to wipe stray salt, and he wonders how long she’s been out here at this.

“Not a fan of roses then?” 

“To be honest with you, I don’t know where these are coming from. It seems like I cut them back and by the next morning they’ve taken over even more.” She gives a weak stab to the flowers that remain intact, a shake of her head as she abandons her work, and he shouldn’t, just here to fix her stair railing, he shouldn’t, but he already is, already saying the words before he can think about keeping his mouth shut, you’re bleeding.

“What?” He gestures, at least having half a mind not to touch, his hand hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her forearms. Long, thin welts where he’s sure the thorns got her, and maybe he’s a little startled by her breathing out oh, those fuckers, and this again, on the move again, and expecting him to follow her up the porchsteps and in through the screen door and just let it slam or it won’t close all the way. She’s already tramped further into the house and he finds himself utterly unsure of what comes next, shuffling a little in the hallway she left him in, head tilting with the sound of a faucet turning on somewhere, pipes groaning. 

Another truth he gets to see for himself, Maggie has lived here a long time, all the acquired detritus of life that only time can allow, that leaving washes away. Paintings dripping off the walls, a craned-neck glance into the rooms around him revealing worn-looking furniture, shelves of books and little nothing things, trinkets and half-melted candles. And more plants, more plants everywhere. 

“So, the stairs.” The stairs, in question, are an easy enough fix. How nice, he thinks, to know what is needed, and to know exactly where to go to get it, a few tools and materials only a ten minute walk away. She tells him to make himself at home, let yourself in, I’ll be in the back, I’d warn you about my guard dog but she’s not very good at her job. The guard dog in question is rubbing its whiskered cheek against the leg of her jeans, thrumming a purr so loud he thinks it’s at least partial performance, yellow eyes skewing up at him every now and again. 

The work itself makes up the morning. Methodical, monotonous work that allows his mind, and his eyes, to wander. Whatever that ring on her finger means, he’s nearly certain that nobody else lives here with her, except for the cat who spends the first few hours sitting on the bottom step, watching him. As for Maggie, he catches glimpses of her, in and out all morning between what looks like a sunroom and the backyard, never still, always something in her hands, always moving like she’s got an important destination to get to. She comes back inside just as he’s finishing his work, dressed down in a tank top now, all her hair pulled into a precarious knot at the nape of her neck. His eyes linger on bare collar bone, sun high in her cheeks, even though he tries not to. 

“I completely forgot to ask if your kid is feeling better.” He tells her that she is, tries for a joke about teenagers and all their drama that just feels weird in his mouth, though she still smiles at it. And he feels it again, just the same as when he met her, that tug, that want to linger, even though the work is done, and she’s thanking him for it, and even he, and all his dormant manners, knows that’s his cue to leave. 

“I was about to make some lunch if you wanted to stick around?” He shouldn’t.

“Yeah, okay, thank you.” And so he stays for lunch, and so there’s tomato sandwiches, thick and bursting, summer sweet and savor on her back porch, wiping dripping ripeness off on the thigh of his pants, a hum in his throat to be enjoying something like this. 

“How’s another week of domesticity suiting you?” Words that crackle with a half-grin, her cheek cupped in her palm, a picture of afternoon haze, sleep and sate, and he finds himself being lulled by the sight, little slump back in his chair.

“Don’t think it’s something I’ll get used to anytime soon.”

“That’s to be expected, I don’t think anyone ever fully gets used to it though. Not unless this is all they’ve known.”

“Where were you before you came here?” It’s a question that borders on prying, he apologizes and you don't have to almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth, but she waves the apology off, it’s a little complicated. And she tells him that this is where she lived in the before, right up until the after, and that she, like so many others, got funneled into a quarantine zone in the earliest years. 

“Were you ever in one?”

“Boston, for a while.”

“Then you know how maddening those places are.” Bird of prey, trapped in a cage. Bird of prey, who flew back home. Bird of prey, who found that a few other people had the same idea.

“It wasn’t called Jackson back then, wasn’t called anything, just people, you know.” Until it became something else, something bigger, and a little more serious, and if that bothers her, she doesn’t show it. And now he really is prying, asking after her accent that surely doesn’t come from the mountains. He’s not wrong, she tells him.

“I moved here when I was, oh, maybe nine? My parents, we lived in Mississippi before they passed, and when they did I was sent up north to live with my aunt.” It’s an old wound, whatever pain that remains from it has been transfigured into a sort of tired nostalgia around her eyes, the tempering of her smile. She’s quick to brush it away, a bright laugh and a shake of her head, I think I just told you all my secrets. He knows that isn’t true, though warmth still starts to unfurl in his chest. And when she asks him the same questions, he offers the same piecemeal parts of the whole truth. Offers Texas, and his brother, and a halfway truth about Ellie. Shards and fragments passed between each other’s hands, it surprises him how easily he has given his to her. 

“I guess we’re not strangers anymore then.” 

“No, I guess not.”

“I should– I feel the need to warn you.” Like she’s not sure how to put these words together right, brow pinched low and smile slanted nervous, you might not want to spend too much time around me.

“Why’s that?”

“People around here like to talk.”

“Right.”

“And they like talking about me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And I don’t want– you seem like the kind of guy who just wants to keep his head down and get by.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I’d like to be friendly, but I don’t want to take that from you.” The word friendly does something unpleasant in his chest. He does his best to ignore it.

“Why’d you invite me to stay?”

“Because I like talking to you and because I’m selfish. Because I wanted to.” And there’s something else, he thinks, something else unspoken behind her grin. Because he hasn’t made up his mind about her in the same way everyone else has, at least not yet. 

“I have heard things, about you, I mean.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“And I have questions.” She sits back in her chair, an edge of a challenge in her jutted chin, palms turned up and open, try me. But given the chance, he doesn’t know where to begin, which thread to pull first. What comes out, ultimately, isn’t even a question, but plain and blunt observation. This is a big house.

“It’s just me, and Stevie. I’ve offered up rooms to folks around here, haven’t gotten any bites so far.”

“But it wasn’t always, just you.” Absent-minded, she spins that silver band with her thumb, another wound revealed. 

“I was married until I wasn’t.”

“Before or after?” He doesn’t know where this is coming from, this plainly brash openness, though she doesn’t wince, doesn’t recoil from it, just as steady as he is.

“After, about a decade after. You think you’re in the clear and then, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for now. Ask me something else, why don’t you? Something more interesting.” Wave of her hand and a clipped laugh that’s more like a sniff, tender, don’t touch, don’t dig into that wound any deeper. 

“People say you’re strange.”

“Strange.” Dragging out the word, letting it crackle with a grin that’s all teeth, little laugh on the end, picture perfect amusement in how she tilts her head at him.

“That you can do strange things.” 

“That’s kind of a nothing word, isn’t it? Strange?”

“I thought you were gonna answer my questions.”

“Oh, I will. You’re gonna have to be a little more precise in your language though.” Back and forth, back and forth, why does he like this so much? Dragging his palm down his jaw to stop the spread of anticipation, heat-hazy in the mid-afternoon sun.

“That cat of yours, for starters.”

“Mmhmm?” Raise of her brows, voice high in her throat, and he has to huff, do I really have to say it?

“Are you referring to the rumor that my cat spies on people and reports back to me all their wicked, little secrets?” 

“Sure, yes.”

“That cat right there?” His eyes follow her pointed finger out into the tall grass of the backyard, where the cat in question seems to have contented itself with tangling its paws in a loose length of twine, belly-up, writhing around in all that green. Maggie snorts.

“Oh yeah, she’s a real mastermind, you better watch out, she’ll be visiting your bedroom window next.” 

“Then what about the rest of it?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“I’m glad you’re finding this so amusing.”

“Mmhmm, I really am.”

“I feel foolish even saying it.”

“If there’s a word you’re skirting around, and I think there is, it’d be better if you just come out with it.”

“This really is a nothing word though.”

“Oh?”

“Made up, make-believe.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“Frankly, I’m not sure of anything about you.” She hums, chin cupped in her hand and her elbow propped on the small table between them, her brow dipping in mock consideration of his words. He can see that she really is finding all of this entertaining, something in her eyes like a squinted challenge, ghost of a smile twitching in the corners of her mouth.

“How about I say the word I think you’re thinking of?” Spiraling words, circling each other, he nods, and she purses her lips, getting ready for some kind of lift off. 

“People have told you my cat is strange.”

“People have told you I’m strange.”

“People have told you I do strange things.” Yes, yes, yes, he nods with each statement, and her smile only seems to brighten.

“Joel, have people been telling you I’m a witch?” And that’s it, isn’t it? Foolish, and he doesn’t know why that word has seemed to stick in his mind. Maybe just because he’s heard it from enough mouths in the last few days that it almost makes it seem plausible. Maybe he’s lived in a world turned inside out on itself long enough that there is very little imagination that hasn’t been eaten away by reality. Maybe he’s just like the rest of them, looking for any way to explain someone who doesn’t do things the capital-w Way they are supposed to be done. Maybe he’s still thinking about Sarah, and where Maggie could have possibly plucked that name from. And maybe that word is just holding the place of something else, an uneasiness he feels around her, though not unpleasant, just other, and so very unlike any other. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it, and this seems to amuse her most of all, sharp smile now softening, no longer playing at a game because they’ve both caught each other now, haven’t they? 

“That’s what people say.” 

“And you? What do you say?” 

“Does it matter?”

“If we’re going to be friends, yes, I’d like to know what you think.” Friends, they’re going to be friends. When did that happen? He thinks that may be the strangest thing of all. 

“I think I don’t know enough yet to tell you what I think.”

“How judicious of you.”

“I think you’re different though.”

“Well, I think you’re different too.”

“Why?”

“Most people wouldn’t have gone past the front porch, and here you are staying for lunch.”

“I don’t mean to impose or–”

“That’s not what I meant.” The words are kind, but they’re also a conclusion, enough, for now, enough. He watches her get up and collect both their plates before he can think to move, and then another kindness, touch, her palm on his shoulder as she passes behind him, there and gone. He’s a stranger to touch that isn’t economical, or clinical, or plainly violent, and he finds himself unsure what to do with that, though inexplicably wanting more of it. 

She thanks him again for the fix to the railing, and he thanks her for lunch. He lingers, and she lets him, helps with the dishes, checks the railing one more time. I’ll see you, she says, walking him out onto the front porch, and she does it again, touch again, somewhere at his elbow, as simple as anything. The roses are still raging in her front yard, a whole wave of them. 

Somewhere in the middle of his walk home, he realizes the cat is following him, second shadow slinking low to the ground, dipping her head when he turns around, pretending at predator. He keeps walking, pays little attention to her pursuit. He’ll get used to it eventually. He thinks he already is.

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

taglist: @suzmagine @joelsgreys @vee-bees-blog @noisynightmarepoetry @kungfucapslock @iloveenya @evolnoomym @wannab-urs @survivingandenduring @thereaperisabitch @schnarfer @jessthebaker @tobethlehem

[theamityelf]

Because I'm in a Naeouma mood, I would like to know how a Makoto and Keebo swap would be like please

Wait, I missed this ask! 🤣

Swap as in Makoto is a robot? Or Makoto-the-person swaps with Keebo? (I'm going to assume the latter.)

If Makoto is just another human but happens to wake up in the same room as Kokichi instead of Shuichi or Kaede, a part of me still wants to imagine him doing some miraculously clumsy tumble out of his locker where he bumps his head and everything, just because I think it would be funny to have Kokichi react to that. (My initial thought is, he'd probably make fun of him to his face and then leave, but he'd make sure to tell someone– probably Kaede and Shuichi –that "Some dork died in there," to make sure someone goes to check on him.)

But supposing Makoto doesn't fumble right off the bat and they both make it out of the locker normally, I think (in the absence of a robot), Kokichi would process that he doesn't remember how he got here and this confusion would be externalized at Makoto's expense.

So Makoto goes, "What's going on? Where am I?"

And Kokichi pretends to be shocked, like, "You mean you don't remember?"

"Remember? I...I think I was being chased...? And then...I don't know. I just woke up here."

"You don't remember the trip here?" Basically, Kokichi asks a bunch of probing questions to see if Makoto's memories match his, and Makoto answers with complete honesty. And then, once Kokichi feels he's learned all he can from Makoto, he goes, "Oh jeez, this is bad! I can't believe my boyfriend lost all this memories!"

"Boyfriend?? Really?! I...Sorry, I...I really don't remember you at all! What's your name?"

Kokichi bursts into tears, and Makoto tries his best to console him, completely bewildered, but then Kokichi abruptly stops crying and says something to the effect of, "Oh well. If you don't even remember me, I guess that means I can start seeing other people. Unless you can win me over again, of course. Bring me gifts!"

Only then is Makoto like, "Wait, were we actually dating, or...?"

"Of course! You think I would lie about that?"

"Then...what's my name?"

Kokichi pauses, then smiles and says, "Oh, this is a good time to tell you: I lost my memory, too."

"Then...!"

Shuichi and Kaede walk in, and Kokichi introduces Makoto as his boyfriend, and that becomes one of his more consistent lies, alongside "My organization has a lot of people" and "I'm enjoying the killing game." He regularly calls Makoto his boyfriend, saying things like "Don't talk to my boyfriend like that!" and "Miu, are you accusing my boyfriend? (insert extreme, off-the-wall insult)" He still pairs off with Gonta a lot, and if Makoto ever expresses curiosity or concern about what they're up to, he'll make some joke about Makoto being jealous.

Heaven help Makoto if there's ever a situation where both he and Kokichi don't have an alibi, because Kokichi will be like, "Oh my gosh, sweetie, we're both suspects! Hashtag CuteCoupleThings."

[fitztragedy]

Ranking my own fics

I've had writers block for almost a year now so I decided to go down memory lane and re read all my Rivusa fics to see if I should go back to writing them or if the mood is officially dead. And then list/rank/rec them here in case any of you are interested in my thoughts of my own writing.

I decided to keep this list to just shippy rivusa fics that are over 6k words because otherwise it'd be a huge post.

Gonna be a long post so it's all under the cut! I'm curious to see what you guys think of them or if you agree with my order. And if you think I should go back to writing those two.

1st place: TEMPTING FATE (collab with @septemberrie)

I feel like this one is obvious. It's by far the most popular of my fics and one that I never get tired of re-reading. It was so fun to write and make the arts for and I loved working with Skye on it. I still get butterflies when I read all the comments, it truly warms my heart to know so many people loved it. We still get the odd comment here and there of people re-reading or reading for the first time and it makes my day whenever I see those. This fic not only holds a dear place in my heart because of all of this but it truly is, for me, the best written out of the list. I'm not very good with descriptions and since english is not my first language I feel like sometimes my dialogue comes across a bit stiff, but since this was a collab with Skye, she filled in where my weaknesses were lacking and the result was a masterpiece.

2nd place: THIN WALLS (collab with @theperfectrose)

It started as my first attempt at a multichap fic written by myself and soon I realised I did need help so I brought Iva in and I'm so glad! The result was something I'm super proud of and I also love re-reading it. It has around the same wordcount as Tempting Fate, and it's also a rom-com type fic, but it only has half the hits, kudos and comments, so if you liked TF and don't know this one I'd say maybe give it a shot and let me know what you think?

3rd place: TIRED OF PRETENDING (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

In all honesty I had forgotten this existed until I re-read it and I'm so shocked I forgot about it because it's so good! The start of the fic is probably the best start of any of my fics. Mo was the first stranger-I-met-online I collabed with and it was such a nice experience, she brings such a depth of emotions in the descriptions and you can really feel it reading her fics (and collabs). I'll definitely not make the mistake of forgetting about this fic again. And I'll never be fixing that one very obvious editing mistake contained in it.

4th place: TOLERABLE

I consider this to be the most underated of my fics, because I think it's super good but it has very few hits/comments/kudos comparing to others that I don't love as much. Not only I wrote it all by myself but I really loved how it turned out, the dialogue and the descriptions, the worldbuilding and setting of the story, the way Riven and Musa slowly fall for eachother in a arranged marriage situation. I meant it when I said in the notes that I poured my heart and soul into this and I am proud of it and actually finishing it and posting. I keep thinking of coming back to it, add another chapter or another fic in this same universe because I love the premise of it, but because of the lack of feedback I'm not sure if people would actually read it or what they'd be interested in reading about. So if you do read it pls lemme know!

5th place: TAKING IT SLOW

This is me, dipping my toes in whump and going out of my comfort zone and I'm so proud of myself for doing so. I loved how this came out. I know I keep saying I'm proud of myself for the fics I've written but I really am. I'm very self concious and I'm always comparing myself to others, thinking what I do isn't as good or thinking I shouldn't keep doing something because others do it better. Even if I tell myself that I shouldn't write for others and I should do it for myself and not mind if a fic gets few comments or kudos a part of me will always look for validation. But re reading this fic made me feel so good about my own writing, genuinely proud that I did it. I love this fic so much.

(Here is where I realise my top 5 fics' titles all start with T for some reason??)

6th place: AN INNOCENT TRUST EXERCISE

I always think this is a lil' one shot that I wrote and an okay one but then I realise it's over 10k and really good? lol I guess I have a habit of forgetting my own fics. It's the first "big" fic that I wrote by myself and I remember being so happy about this fact. Re reading it I feel like it could be better, the pacing is a bit off and the ending doesn't really match the tone of the fic, the smut feels like it came out of nowhere and some bits are cringy to read. But I still love it. Maybe one day I'll go over it again and make some edits.

7th place: SHARK WEEK (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

I love this fic and I know a lot of people adore this too but I feel like it isn't as good as the others, maybe because it's been so long since I wrote it. I do still re-read it from time to time (maybe sometimes during that time of the month for me).

8th place: ANY WAY YOU WANT IT

This is more like a collection of one shots than an actual fic but I do like it a lot. Is it self-indulgent? yes, a lot. It is a collection of smut after all. I feel like my specialty is writing funny smut and I have a blast writing it, inserting comedy and fluff into sexy situations even being an ace person in real life, lol. I have a couple more wips for the next chapters but writers block is a bitch.

9th place: THE LAST RESORT (Colab with @septemberrie)

I'm only putting this this far down on the list because we just posted 1 chapter but I still love it. This was mine and Skye's second attempt at a rom-com type multichap fic after the success of Tempting Fate and I feel like it could have turned out amazing too, but life got in the way and we haven't managed to get back into it. If you think we should give this another try let us know!

10th place: I CAN FEEL YOU

I really like this one, but I'm putting it here in the list because it isn't just Rivusa. It's Rivusa + Sky, PWP. More focused on Sky than Rivusa. But I do really like the emotion I managed to write in this and I am proud of stepping a bit our of my comfort zone with this.

11th place: WHY NOT

I feel like this one is too basic, bland, not a lot of effort or emotion was put into it. I mean not all fics need to be deep and whatever and this one is basically just PWP, which is fine too. But idk it feels unfinished, like a first draft. The first half has too many characters and I feel like I get overwhelmed when I have to write that many voices at once so it's basically just dialogue with no description. And then it switches gears to just Riven and Musa and smut. Feels like 2 different fics glued together.

Honorable Mentions (Rivusa fics listed on my AO3 that fit the +6k words criteria I set for this post but that don't quite fit my ranking list):

EN GARDE: I don't really consider this my fic because @septemberrie wrote the majority of it, I just came in as a final push at the end, but I absolutely love it and I'm so happy she let me dip my little fingers on it and write a bit. Definitelly a must if you love period/medieval AUs.

A LADY'S GUIDE TO FOOLS AND FORTUNES: Another one I don't consider my fic but had a part in the making. It was written by the forever-amazing @septemberrie with art/gifs I made for the Reverse Big Bang event. I adore it and am so SO proud of the gifs I made. One of my best ones for sure.

REASSURANCE and JUST FOR YOU (both collabs with @gossipqueen2000 and AmandaLovegood): Both of these were witten back in 2021 when Fate had just come out. Feels like ages ago. I'm putting them here because I feel like they have more Mo and Amanda than Val to be honest, I don't really remember writing them or the process of it but I really like them a lot. Again Mo has this way of writing emotion and feelings and you can just tell it was her. It feels real and raw and so good to read, whump in the best way.

[cerridwen007]

I Want You.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k (18+)

Summary: After spending all of your situationship trying to convince you that you’re the only one he wants, Joel decides to take a different approach to get you to understand.

Inspired by the song “I Want You” by Reignwolf.

Notes/Warnings: SMUT with a touch of Angst, porn with feelings, insecure reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex/foreplay, primal play, creampie, dom Joel, sub reader, biting, choking, swearing, no y/n, fluffy ending.

A/N: Kinda self indulgent but I mean who wouldnt want Joel to fuck the insecurity out of them? Once again I am apologizing for being inactive in writing and posting my fics. I've been a bit burned out with writing and been busy with work and life. So this time I know to not make promises about weekly posts. Instead I'm going to give myself grace and instead try and do at least one fic a month. So some months I might write 3-4 fics and others only one, it honestly will depend on how I'm feeling. But what I will try to do within this next month is finish updating my masterlist with some new, sexy banners and maybe also make a fic rec masterlist for all my favorite works. I will say I have been working on a few wips and am about half way through Corruption of Innocence part 3 and have also come up with another series this time for Joel, so stay tuned for that some time in the future. Thank you as always for any interactions with my posts, it means the world to me.

******

You couldn't actually justify why you did it. You shouldn't have pushed him away. But some part of you couldn't believe that he could love you and only you and that he wouldn't get bored of you and seek pleasure in someone else's bed. In all honesty, you were silly to think that, even being the soft-spoken man Joel was, he still always tried his best in reassuring you that he wanted you. And never did he ever give you any reasons to doubt his loyalty to you. But yet you decided to end your situationship with Joel in fear of getting hurt.

Joel, on the other hand, was first distressed and then annoyed that you pushed him away. He had been spending more of his nights at the Tipsy Bison, drinking away his troubles, trying to forget his feelings for you. He just couldn't seem to understand why you called it quits. You had spent so long dancing around your feelings for each other, and then when you finally did get together, everything was great, the best he had ever felt in a long time. Then it all came crashing down one night when you said that you wanted to stop seeing each other.

You took some convincing to admit the reasoning why. And when you did, he was shocked. Maybe he hadn't been expressing enough of his affection towards you. Maybe he should have told you he loved you already. You were quick to reassure him that it was yourself and not him. To which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at. But you pleaded with him that it was completely you, that you couldn't handle losing him. At first, as much as it hurt him to do so, he respected your wishes, and then one night about a month after your split, something inside of him snapped. He wasn't going to let the best thing in his life go that easily.

You were spending your night at home by yourself like usual, trying to forget Joel in your own way, distracting yourself with a book and a cup of tea. Your heart skipped a beat when it heard fairly loud knocking at your door. The knocking stopped for a second, and you thought about just ignoring it until it started again.

“Alright, I'm coming, jeez. You scoff annoyed, walking to the door before opening it.

Your voice and breath immediately hitch in your throat. Eyes widening as they take in the intimidating, tall figure before you, leaning against your doorframe. You scan over his body, the way his shirt and pants stretch over his wide thighs and shoulders, his eyes brown and soft but filled with something deeper and darker tonight. God, has he gotten even hotter since you last saw him? Your thoughts are interrupted when he coughs to get your attention and speaks.

“Came to talk to ya, sweetheart.” He says darkly.

You move aside and invite him in.

“Oh..yeah come in.” You whisper back.

You can smell the whiskey he likes on his breath as he walks by and the smell that is undoubtedly him, something you missed all so dearly. You take a deep breath, working up the courage to speak before you talk.

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“I think you know why I'm here.” 

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrow.

He speaks through gritted teeth, like an animal baring its fangs, holding back, ready to devour its prey. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know…cause I told you…I told you, I want you.”

“Joel I know, but I…” You whisper.

The words seem to slip away. Your brain can't seem to find proper reasoning as to why you still push him away, yet you still do, as if your body is working on autopilot.

“You know I want you, you're in my head.” His tone softens for a moment as he looks deep into your eyes. Wishing that you would just believe him and give your relationship a chance.

You go to interrupt, but he shuts you up by roughly grabbing your cheeks and jaw in one hand, the slight pain and abrupt motion to make you stop talking and listen. You can't help but let your desire continue to grow. Your middle is dripping from his dominance and assertiveness. You're almost whimpering at his touch.

“Joel.” You manage to mumble out, the last of your denying uttered in that one word.

He tightens his grip ever so slightly and lowers his head closer to yours, his lip curled.

“Well I'm telling you. I want you…..I get the feeling that you just don't understand, I'm crying, wolf, and I'll always be your man.” he growls.

The tension is thick in the air. Joel never failed to make you wet at the sight of him, but this was something else, a primal need to feast on each other's mouths and flesh like you won’t have the chance to again.

The point of tension breaks and your mouths attach to each other like magnets drawn together. The kisses are  filled with desire, lust, and want, but also with ‘I missed you’s’, don’t let me go again’s, and love. Teeth are clashing, lips smashing, hands flying about, trying to grab onto each other and hold them close in any way they can. 

Joel pushes you against the wall harshly, pulling you up so your legs wrap around his waist. You moan into his mouth, feeling his craving for your body, nestled against your clothed middle. His desire to be gentle and take his time is long gone out the window as he feverishly explores your body, ripping away any clothing that stands in his way of touching and tasting your bare skin. He marks all along your body, your neck, jaw, and collarbones, anywhere he can reach, claiming you for his own. 

His hands reach up behind your back and pull your hair firmly, giving him move access to attack your flesh with bite and hickey’s. You find yourself a grinning and whimpering mess under him. He growls into your breasts after ripping away your shirt and bra like a wild wolf, warning others not to touch his meal. He finally pulls you both off the wall and quickly walks to your bed and throws you down. Not wanting to waste a moment, he pulls your pants and panties off swiftly. He groans as he gets on his knees and takes in the scent of your arousal. 

“God I missed you and this sweet pussy, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond his hands wrapped around your thighs are pulling you to his mouth, he makes quick work of you, his tongue licking every inch of you, switching between, fucking into you pulsating hole and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. It feels so good, yet you can’t help but squirm around only to be pinned down by Joel's forearm, keeping his meal still for him. 

Your hand reaches down into his graying locks as Joel undoes you with his skilled tongue. Your first orgasm comes quickly. He groans deeply at the sweet taste gracing his taste buds, but he doesn’t stop or slow down. Instead he speeds up his actions and begins thrusting two fingers into your drenched cunt and curling them to reach that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. The pathetically beautiful sounds coming from your mouth do nothing but egg him to continue, urging you to your second orgasm of the night in mere minutes. Two fingers become three that mercilessly fuck into your tight hole.

“Cum for me.” Joel quietly groans in your cunt. 

Taking his words as a stern order, you let go, drenching his face with your second release of the night. He is grinning ear to ear as he drinks up every bit of your sweetness, your hands grip the sheets tightly, cunt verging on overstimulation. He finally lets up when he feels satisfied and crawls back up to give yourself a taste of your own pleasure from his tongue. He groans deeply as you begin pulling him down on top of you and arching your back up into him, insinuating you want more, need to feel him inside you. He chuckles darkly and reaches down between you to tease your folds with the tip of his cock. 

He keeps teasing despite your whines for him to put it in already. 

“Please….Please Joel.” You whine quietly.

He grins devilishly. “Begging me to fuck you sweetheart, Need it that bad, don’t you honey?”

You nod your head in response, but Joel doesn't like that answer. He grips your throat lightly and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Use your words baby.” he growls.

“Y-Yes, need it so bad Joel.”

“Atta girl.”

He quickly thrusts his whole length into your quivering hole, making you gasp out. He lets you adjust to his size for a few seconds before slowly yet brutally dragging his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into your tight cunt again.

You unconsciously bring your fist up to your mouth and bite into, so overwhelmed with the deliciously brutal pleasure you were feeling.Before you could have even comprehended, he flips you over and brings your ass up to his cock, slamming into your hip mercilessly. Your eyes rolled back into your head, he holds the back of your neck down as he pounded into you. Your hands find purchase in the sheets, gripping them tightly. He lowers himself so his front is flush with your back, and the new angle hits even deeper inside you, urging you to the precipice of climax. 

“All mine, This pretty cunt is all mine.” Joel snarled into your ear, biting your ear lobe.

“F-f-fuck yes, only yours, Joel.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises you, before reaching around to rub your clit, sending you over the edge.

“Shit! Joel!” You whine as your high comes crashing down.

His thrusts never stuttered as he worked you through your high and chased his own. Joel roughly grabbed your hips as he creamed inside of you, a final step in marking his territory.

You both collapsed on the bed, Joel’s full weight comforting as you caught your breaths. A comfortable silence blanketed the room, which only moments ago was filled with obscene noises.

“I love you.” he whispered.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise at his remark, the first ever time he has ever said those three words to you. You turn your head to try and look at him better. You see his eyes have returned a closer shade to their normal deep brown, his pupils blown wide. You can’t help but smile at his softness, a stark contrast to him behavior only moments ago. Nevertheless, you loved every bit of Joel you could get.

“I love you too.” You whisper before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips.

You couldn't be certain of what was the future for you and Joel, but you knew right now there is no place you rather be than snuggling with your person.

********

[motelsnleatherseats]

A new school year was on the horizon as the summer days were coming to an end. Dean had spent the weekend with Sam dreading it and complaining, asking why he couldn't just get his GED like Dean did so he wouldn't have to worry about school anymore, but John wouldn't stand for it, and if there was anyone in the Winchester bloodline that was gonna actually graduate and get their diploma, it was going to be Sam. Plus it kept Sam busy and out of trouble on the days where he'd bring Dean along on a hunt. But he was going to do it the right way, Dean would make sure of it.

"What are you going to do while I'm at school?"

Dean breathed out a long exhale as his fingers idly massaged the back of Sam's scalp as he rested his head on his chest. He was half-laid up on him in a familiar and comfortable position. The television was off with the distant sounds of cars passing along the main road outside of the motel granting them occasional background noise.

"Might find some part time work. Hustle or whatever," Dean commented as his eyes fell shut. It had to be approaching midnight.

He'd find a way to keep himself busy, but he knew he'd always have to be available if John called and needed something. He could potentially pick up a local case if one ever presented itself, but his main objective was just to keep an eye on Sammy.

"Kinda miss when you were with me at school," Sam commented and Dean gave a short laugh.

"Speak for yourself," he replied. "You're the smart one. Tests and books ain't really my gig. Plus the teachers were nothin' like they were in pornos." Dean cracked one eye open to gaze at Sam with a half grin.

"Shut up," Sam spoke as he nudged him before he shifted his glance up towards Dean, moving his hand to draw little patterns against his chest with his index finger. "You're smart too, y'know. I just meant I'm gonna miss not being around you all the time."

"I'm still gonna pick you up and drop you off, it won't be that long. I'm actually kinda shocked you're not sick of me already." Dean moved his hand to cover Sam's against his chest before he curled his fingers against his palm.

Sam went quiet for a moment as he seemed to mull over Dean's comment, pinching his lips together as if sealing off the words that sat on the tip of his tongue. He recognized the look, the little pouty expression that his little brother used to get when he'd spend too much time chatting up girls before this whole thing between them got started.

"Sammy."

"You're not gonna find someone else while I'm not around, are you?" Sam responded abruptly. Dean gave a laugh, much to Sam's dismay because he was met with a petulant scowl and a whine.

"Seriously? C'mon, man, I'm not gonna go prowling for chicks while you're at school," Dean replied with a lift of his eyebrows. He may have had that reputation before, but Sam was in the picture now. Even if he had contemplated the seriousness of their situation, he knew that Sam's jealousy and possessiveness would be hell to deal with if he even considered getting something on the side.

"Promise?" Those damn puppy eyes. Dean lifted his hand to cup his cheek before he leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

"I promise. Now let's get to sleep, gotta get up early to get you to school tomorrow."

The day dragged on longer than Dean expected it to. After a morning of Sam seducing him with heated make out sessions and heavy petting to try and convince him to let him stay home, Dean found himself hesitant to drive away even after his brother had walked through the main doors of the school. They hadn't really had a conversation about what they were in terms of a relationship, but Dean had an inkling that Sam would classify them as exclusively together. That didn't really bother him, in all honesty. Ever since they had their first kiss, Dean's eyes found themselves fixated on his brother more than anything, and any desire that he used to have when it came to flings or one-night stands had basically disappeared completely. What did bother him was the fact that Sam was still so young, and maybe the feelings he had towards Dean were getting wires crossed somewhere and he was mistaking his familial bond and reliance on Dean to take care of him as something on the more romantic side. A new school year meant a new opportunity for Sam to meet other people, and maybe that'd be good for him.

By the time the school day came to an end, Dean had posted up outside against the Impala, glancing at his watch to count down the minutes before a rush of kids would come flooding out of the doors.

"Dean Winchester?"

Dean turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice, his eyes falling on a pretty brunette with a pretty smile heading his way.

"Rhonda?"

"I thought that was you. I mean, kinda hard to miss with the car and all," she retorted as she came up to him as he pushed himself from the car, turning to face her better. "Thought you were leaving town before summer," she chided, giving him a playful push against his shoulder.

"Ah, yeah," Dean chuckled, giving an ostentatious shrug of his shoulders and a signature cocksure smile. "Plans changed. Dad's job kept him around longer than expected. What are you doing here?"

"Uh huh, and here I thought you were just making something up to let me down easy," Rhonda responded with a tilt of her head, but that smile still remained on her lips. Shit, she was flirting. "Picking up my sister, she's a freshman this year."

"Oh yeah, uh.. Darla, right?"

"Mhmm. And you're here for... Sam?"

"Sammy, yeah," Dean spoke, and is if on cue, the bell had rang and students started the migration out of school. Dean shifted a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced towards the doors to scan for his brother.

"How could I forget?" Rhonda said with a grin before she stepped into Dean's personal space and nudged his arm with hers, drawing his attention back down to her. "Well you know, since you're hanging around a little longer, maybe we could get together? Catch a movie or something?" She offered. Dean felt a small clench in his chest, something akin to uneasiness. "I picked up a couple more things from the lingerie store," she added in a whisper and Dean's cheeks grew hot.

"Hey, hey, that was a one time thing," Dean replied with a nervous laugh, clearing his throat afterward.

"I know, I was talking about for me," she purred.

"Dean?"

Dean whirled around like he had just been caught in the act, Sam standing on the other side of the Impala with his eyes going back and forth between the both of them.

"O-oh, hey, Sam. How was school, are you ready to go?" Dean asked and stepped away from Rhonda, moving to open the passenger door for Sam who was on the brink of staring daggers at him. "C'mon, let's go grab something to eat, huh?" He offered as he ushered Sam to get in with a short huff of a protest from his little brother. He moved back around to the driver's side where Rhonda was still standing, watching him with an inquisitive gaze. He awkwardly slid passed her and against the car to get to the door before flashing her an uncomfortable smile. "Sorry, we gotta go. It was, ah.. nice running into you," Dean spoke before he climbed into the car.

"Yeah, same here..." Rhonda trailed off, lowering herself a bit to gaze better through the window at him. "Call me sometime, yeah?"

Dean gave a tight lipped smile and a half nod of his head before he watched her walk off and flag down her sister before they had gotten into their own car. He sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few long moments, feeling Sam's eyes boring holes through him.

"What the hell was that?"

"Nothing. She just recognized me from a few months back, came over to say hi," Dean answered, starting the car before he pulled them onto the road, all but peeling out of the spot.

"'Call me?' Did you have a thing with her?" Sam asked, his arms tucked tightly over his chest with his back against the passenger door, keeping as much distance as he could between them to display his trepidation about the whole situation.

"What? No, Sam, c'mon," Dean retorted with a snort. "I mean, well.. once, but it was a long time ago, way before you and I even started doing anything," Dean defended himself, chancing a glance towards Sam. He looked pissed. "Look, she just came over to say hi, that's all, I swear. I'm not gonna call her," he continued, doing his best to convince Sam that it wasn't even a notion that crossed his mind.

The silence persisted. Sam was good at giving the cold shoulder, but he felt that this was probably gonna be worse than just a few hours of no conversation given the fact that Sam had expressed this particular concern the night before. As each second passed, the pit in Dean's stomach grew.

"What's her name?" Sam asked, voice too calm for Dean's liking. He contemplated on asking why he wanted to know or just changing the subject, but there was no point in lying to Sam or avoiding the situation. Whether or not it was his fault, he had gotten caught red handed.

"...Rhonda Hurley."

"Hm."

An uneasiness settled in Dean's shoulders as Sam seemed to signify the end of the conversation with his nonplussed sound of a response. His fingers itched to reach for the radio to do something to cut the silence, but that would have been a bad move as well. They were half-way to the motel before Dean found his voice again.

"Wanna get something to eat?" He offered, voice soft and apologetic.

"Drop me off at the library," Sam retorted.

"What? Why? It's the first day of school." Dean looked at Sam with his eyebrows furrowed. "You're mad at me."

"Just drop me off, please. It's for school," Sam responded, his gaze still out the window, refusing to give his brother any read into his feelings at that moment.

Defeated, Dean sighed and drove towards the public library as requested, though he wasn't happy about it. He wanted to further explain himself, to make sure that Sam knew he had no intention of calling her and if he were to ever run into her in public again that he'd dip out as quick as he could, because being on Sam's shit list wasn't worth it. Once they pulled up, Dean put his arm against the back of the front seat bench and leaned a little closer to Sam.

"Want me to come in and wait for you?" Dean offered and Sam had turned to look at him, his expression still indecipherable. He noticed how his eyes flickered to Dean's lips for a moment he took that cue to lean in for a kiss, but Sam was quicker and had pulled the door open and slid out, leaving Dean awkwardly bent over the center and watching as Sam took a few steps back.

"Don't wait up."

"Sam.. Sam! Hey!" Dean called out, frowning before Sam turned to walk backwards as he headed towards the library. "Call me to come get you, okay?"

Dean was met with a roll of his eyes before Sam had turned back around and headed inside. He was in deep shit and he knew it.

Against Dean's best judgment, he drove away from the library, beating himself up about even letting Rhonda come over to say anything. How could he have known that he'd run into her, let alone have her be trying to get up close and personal right as Sam walked up? He didn't actually do anything, he shouldn't have anything to feel guilty over. He went back and forth of feeling deserving of punishment and coming up with an argument to plead his case to Sam once he gone to pick him back up again, but the guilt laid heavy on his shoulders. He checked his cell phone every 2 minutes to see if maybe somehow the ringer was dysfunctional or maybe his phone was dead, but he knew Sam was making him suffer. An attempt at watching TV was made, but he couldn't focus. His knee bounced nervously, eyes unfocused on the screen before he just turned it off and paced a bit. After an hour of waiting around, Dean knew he had to keep himself preoccupied with something else, so he left the motel and went to the nearest diner to pick up some food for the both of them. Something healthy that Sam liked, even one of those health conscious shakes Dean thought tasted like lawn mowings, just to get on his good side.

Another hour had passed and their food was growing cold on the table. One more glance at his cell phone had him reaching for his keys, the metal digging into his palm hard as he went to pull open the door before someone else had beat him to it, nearly hitting him in the face. Sam stopped abruptly, obviously not expecting to see Dean there.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing? I was gonna come and haul your ass outta the library. Why didn't you call me?" Dean asked, though he was relieved that Sam had actually come back.

"I told you not to wait up," Sam responded as he shouldered passed him, throwing his back pack onto the floor by his bed before he flopped back on it.

"Yeah, okay. Like I'm still not gonna worry." Dean watched Sam as if waiting for a further explanation, or just something other than disinterest. He sighed as he received a shrug in return. "Are we not gonna talk about earlier?"

"What's there to talk about?" Sam asked, giving a slow blink as he regarded Dean, eyebrows raised slightly. "You said you weren't going to see her, right?"

"Yeah, but I can tell you're pissed about it," Dean responded, caught a little off guard, though relieved that he wasn't going to make a big deal over it.

"Then that's it, isn't it? I believe you." 

Dean's eyes narrowed. This was too easy.

"That's it? You're not mad, then?"

"I'm not mad."

"Okay... well, I got you some food if you're hungry," Dean replied, though still wary of Sam's current emotional state.

"Thanks," Sam replied, flashing a hint of a smile that did nothing to dissolve the pit in Dean's stomach.

Dean had decided to leave the conversation at that, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Sam wasn't going to make a big deal out of it, then there was no need to further plead his case. Maybe Sam was getting better about his little jealousy issues. Hell, he was impressed Sam didn't tackle her upon seeing them talking to begin with in the way he used to act out when he was vying for Dean's attention. Or he was still mad at him and he was putting on one hell of a poker face. He tried not to dwell on the thought for too long even as he stole glances towards his brother to try and get a better reading on him.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, both of them eating in their own time and winding down from the day. Dean had showered first before he had gotten himself ready for sleep, slipping into his designated side of the bed as he heard Sam showering up after he brushed his teeth. He stared at the bathroom door, seconds ticking away feeling like minutes before the creak of the door was heard and Sam stepped out, dressed in his boxers with his damp hair curling by his ears. Dean wanted to ask if he was going to join him, but he swallowed the bit of vulnerability, wanting Sam to make the conscious decision himself.

Relief was an understatement when Sam crawled into the same bed and pressed his form up against Dean's, fitting himself as the little spoon. He curled his arm around his torso and buried his face against the back of his little brother's neck, giving a deep inhale of off brand shampoo and bar soap.

"Did you fuck her?" Sam asked in a voice so quiet Dean wasn't sure he heard right.

"What?" He lifted his head some to gaze at Sam's profile.

"Did you fuck her?" He asked again before he turned his head to meet Dean's eyes. Dean stared for a beat, unsure of how to answer, but Sam's eyes were demanding of a truthful response.

"Yeah," Dean replied remorsefully. 

Sam rolled his smaller frame to face his brother, another unreadable expression there as he moved a hand to reach for the amulet around his neck, toying with the adornment. Dean wasn't sure what else to say so he simply moved his hand to caress along his arm in an apologetic manner. Really, he had nothing to be sorry for. Sam knew what Dean's sexual appetite was like long before he had shown any remote interest in Dean or what he was doing with other people. Still, there was a part of him that felt guilty, because he was sure he was all of Sam's firsts, and Sam would never get to lay claim on any of Dean's.

Sam gave a little tug to the amulet in his fingers, tipping his head up to press his lips to Dean's, earning a small sound of surprise from the elder, because where did that come from? Grateful that Sam wasn't punishing him for his truthfulness, he leaned into it and let his eyes close. Sam was quick to deepen the kiss, parting his lips and welcoming Dean to do the same before their tongues grazed one another, the subtle lingering of mint there. Dean moved his arm to curl around his brother's middle, pulling him against him better before Sam rolled on top of him and gave a soft moan. His hand went to reach for the bedside table to turn off the light but Sam reached out to grip his wrist, giving a soft 'mm-mhh' before he lifted his head.

"Did you do it with the lights off with her?" Sam asked, voice a touch breathy. Dean responded with a soft, discontent groan as he tipped his head back with a roll of his eyes, not wanting to think or talk about Rhonda Hurley anymore. "Tell me, I want to know," Sam urged with a roll of his hips down against his groin, this time earning a pleasured groan from Dean's parted lips.

"Y-yeah, Sammy.. lights off," he exhaled, moving his hands down to Sam's hips where he gripped and gave a tender squeeze, pushing his own hips up for more friction.

"Did she suck your cock?" Sam asked, lifting his form to sit up as he straddled Dean and he gave deep rolls of his hips. Dean bit down on his bottom lip as he felt his cock begin to fatten under the pressure of Sam's actions and he slid his hands up along his sides, having a hard time participating in the conversation.

"Jesus, Sam," he exhaled, his green eyes wide as he gazed up at his little brother, a mix between turned on and concerned. It was hard to enjoy dirty talk when it was about someone else. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I wanna do it better," Sam replied as he leaned down and kissed Dean once more before he slid his body down his brother's thighs, trailing his hands down his torso until they were at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. Far be it for Dean to turn down a blow job, but Sam's fixation on what he did with Rhonda was making it feel like some kind of non-existent competition. Sam would win. Every. Single. Time.

"Wait, wait," Dean interjected as he reached down to grip one of the other's wrists, shifting to sit up on his elbows as he gazed down at him. "She's never gonna compare to you. No matter what. You don't have to be better than anyone."

"Then why don't you want to have sex with me?"

Dean's chest felt heavy with the weight of Sam's question. He had put off actually doing the deed with him because somewhere deep down inside, he was afraid that Sam would change his mind about this intimate relationship they had delved into, but now Little Brother was becoming impatient. He fell back against the bed with a sigh before his arm came over his eyes.

"Is it because I'm not a girl? Because I'm not pretty or have tits and a pussy?" Dean could hear the bitterness in his voice.

"No, God no, that's not it at all," Dean replied quickly, dropping his arm and angling his head to meet Sam's gaze once more. Not pretty? Fucking hilarious. "I just.. want to make sure you're ready. That you're not gonna, y'know, hate me for it afterward or change your mind."

"Why would I change my mind? I'm the one that came onto you," Sam spoke, the edge now missing from his tone.

"Because you're young? Because you're confused? I don't know, I worry about shit like that all the time," Dean admitted, silently beating himself up for being a professional boner killer in that instance.

"Are you confused?" Sam asked.

"No.. actually I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Dean replied. If he had to compare everything that he ever felt towards anyone he took to bed, or anyone in general, nothing could hold a flame for what he felt towards his brother. Somewhere along the way of taking care of Sam, of practically raising him, he had put him on a pedestal. Sam was to be treasured, to be revered, to be worshipped, and who better to do that than Dean himself?

"Okay," Sam replied before he flashed him a smile. Okay? Okay??? That's all he could say in response?

"Okay what?"

"Okay, then just shut up and let me suck your cock."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in response, words failing him in that moment as Sam resumed what he had originally planned by curling his fingers in Dean's boxers and tugging them down, letting his cock spring free from the thin material. A soft groan left the elder's lips as he felt Sam curl his fingers around his length, holding it upright before he wrapped his lips around the head, the first touch of wet heat sending a shockwave of pleasure through him. 

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean breathed, moving a hand down to push his fingers through his still damp locks, tightening a bit at his scalp as he felt him descend on his arousal, the velvety sensation of his tongue and cheeks making the muscles in his stomach quiver. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled a pleasured sound, watching as Sam tried to take as much as he could into the depths of his mouth, the head nudging the back of his throat and making him lift his head a bit from fear of gagging. "Just.. relax your throat a bit and breathe through your nose," Dean guided, giving another moan as Sam did as he was told, now starting to bob his head.

He had seen plenty of girls go down on him, some more enthusiastically, some with a hell of a lot more experience, but nothing looked or felt better than watching Sam suck his cock. The sight alone made his length throb against his tongue, his thighs tensing slightly as his toes curled against the sheets. The wet sounds were like music to his ears as they were paired with soft little hums and gentle gags when he took too much, but it was perfect. He gave his praises through tender tugs of his hair and groans of pleasure, all while resisting the urge to raise his hips.

Sam pulled up after a few long moments of concentrated bobbing to take a breath. His lips were glossy with saliva and slightly more plump than they usually were with a thick line connecting his bottom one to the head of his cock. Then he grinned up at Dean, mouth poised so close to the engorged head that it gave another throb in his grasp.

"Am I doing okay?" Sam asked, cheeks a little flushed, and God, he's never looked prettier.

"What do you think?" Dean asked as he lifted his hips some to get his cock to slip within his brother's grasp, the hardness against his palm a clear indicator that he was doing a fine job.

"Can we..?" Sam asked, expression so hopeful, how could Dean ever say no? If Sam thought he was ready for it, then Dean would give that to him. He deserved that much.

Dean licked his lips and swallowed, holding his gaze for a long moment before he nodded his head.

"Yeah, c'mere baby," he replied, coaxing Sam back up his form before their lips had joined in another embrace, Dean rolling them over to have Sam on his back. He kissed him with a deep seated hunger, licking into the pink of his mouth as he savored every sensation, his heart beginning to pick up pace the closer they got to sealing the deal. He kissed down his brother's throat as his teeth scraped gently over the thrum of his pulse, earning soft mewls from Sam as he arched up against him. His hands made quick work in discarding their boxers, now a tangle of limbs in the sheets. Dean fit between Sam's thighs, grinding their arousals together as he moved one hand to push under the bend of Sam's knee to bring his legs further apart before he trailed his fingers inward to caress against his sweet little hole.

"You touch yourself here?" Dean asked as he lifted his head, gazing down at Sam who had circled his arms around his neck and gave him a nod as he bit down on his bottom lip.

"Yeah.. just my fingers.. wanted to be ready for you," he divulged, his cheeks taking on more of a pink hue. Dean smiled, bordering on a smirk before he stole one more kiss and detangled them briefly.

He got himself up from the bed with reluctance, but if they were going to do this, he was going to make sure that Sam was comfortable. He rummaged through his duffel for a small bottle of lube he kept stashed, coming back to his brother and resuming his position.

"You still want the light on?" he asked as he uncapped it and smeared some of the clear substance on his fingers. Sam nodded and spread his thighs for him, his lips pinched between his teeth.

"Wanna see you," he murmured in reply before Dean had moved his fingers down to touch against his hole once more, Sam giving a little jolt at the cool sensation. "S'okay," he nodded, granting Dean permission to do what he set out to do.

Dean pressed his index finger against the tight clench of his rim before the lube helped it ease inside, meeting less resistance than he anticipated. Sam's eyebrows knit together at the slight pressure, but he willed himself to relax to indulge in the sensation of Dean actually being inside of him, feeling his digit massage his inner walls as it slipped in and out. It didn't take long before he was able to add a second one, the pinch of additional pressure making Sam wince slightly, but he still pressed his hips down against the feeling, the softest little sounds of pleasure leaving his lips under his brother's thrusting fingers. Dean put his mouth to work to help distract from any pain as he kissed along his throat again and along his collar bones, his cock giving a small impatient throb as he scissored his fingers inside of him, urging a deeper stretch so he'd be able to accommodate his length better.

The wet squelches of lube played a beautiful melody to accompany Sam's breathy sounds, and the drag of blunt nails between Dean's shoulder blades only added to the heightened sensitivity of his body before he lifted his head to find Sam's eyes once more.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asked, and Sam subdued a wide smile with a bite down on his bottom lip, giving a nod of his head.

"More than ever," Sam breathed as Dean slipped his fingers free. He took what was left of the lube on his digits and slicked up his own arousal with it, moving to grip the base of it before he aligned himself with Sam's hole, nudging lightly against it.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? And I'll stop," Dean spoke and waited for the go-ahead from Sam, both of them taking a steadying breath before he had pushed forward, the head catching his brother's rim before the resistance let up and he slipped inside with a groan, Sam's body tensing as he sucked in a breath. "Relax, baby. Breathe and relax for me," Dean coached, waiting until he felt Sam unclench enough to allow movement. "I'll go slow," he murmured, voice breathy. The tightness was incredible, and even the way he clenched and quivered around him sent pulse waves of pleasure through him, but he had to remember that this was Sam's first time. Shit, it was Sam's first time. He was taking his brother's virginity.

Dean pressed their lips together again in a kiss, another distraction, a silent 'I got you' in the form of physical affection. They stayed engaged in a lip lock as Sam's hands moved up and down Dean's back, fingertips pressing against the flesh, nails leaving light half crescent shapes against freckled skin until Sam exhaled against his mouth, giving another nod of his head.

"M'okay. You can move now," Sam breathed and Dean went right to work, giving slow and shallow rocks of his hips, feeling the slow drag of his cock against his insides. He dropped his head some, letting his forehead press against Sam's shoulder as he continued to move, his thrusts going a bit deeper, pressing just a little harder. Sam's arms had curled around him as his thighs pressed to his hips, giving little swivels against each movement that made Dean's head spin.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Dean spoke with a voice like tires on fine gravel as he breathed hotly against his skin, earning a soft whine from Sam between his panted breaths. He could tell his brother was biting his tongue at any discomfort, or maybe he enjoyed the slight sting of pain because it made this real and not some porno fantasy where everything was exaggerated screaming moans of ecstasy, but he checked in, making sure Sam could handle it. "Feels okay, baby? I'm not hurting you?"

"Bigger than fingers," Sam managed to reply with a strained laugh as he held at Dean's nape, pressing his mouth against his ear to give more of those delicious breathy sounds. "Don't stop, I want to feel you all the way," he spoke and Dean groaned, moving to find his mouth again as he angled forward and gave a full thrust, bottoming out. Sam arched, parted lips against Dean's as he gave an outward cry. His heels came to press at the small of his brother's back, holding him in place as he quivered and spasmed around him. "Oh fffuck," he whined, chest rising and falling faster. "I feel so full.. nngh, you're so big," he gasped and Dean throbbed.

"Yeah? You like me that deep, Sammy?" Dean asked, his pupils blown wide with lust as he held Sam's gaze, thankful that he opted to leave the light on because Sam's expression was one he'd commit to memory forever. He gave a grind forward and Sam let out another choked sound, giving a nod of his head as his eyebrows knitted together, those stained glass eyes glassy and dark.

"Do it again," Sam urged and Dean pulled his hips back, giving one fluid roll forward to sink as deep as he could which earned him something akin to a sob as he felt Sam suck his stomach in, the tightness around him increasing.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Dean hissed, nipping at the sharpness of Sam's jawline. "Like big brother fucking you?"

"God, Dean," Sam mewled and Dean shifted his hands up along the other's shoulders before he guided his arms up, curling their fingers together on either side of his brother's head. "Yes, yes, I love it so much.. fuck me, please," he pleaded, squeezing his fingers between his own before Dean took the lead and set a rhythmic pace, each stroke deep and firm, causing Sam's smaller form to bounce slightly. Any pain that Sam may have felt either went ignored or dissipated, because he was matching Dean's pace by countering each thrust with a throwing of his hips against his cock as it plunged in and out of him. The sound of skin on skin grew louder in slick plap plap plaps as they exchanged moans and grunts, entranced by each other's pleasured expressions, locked in an intense gaze that only exemplified their desire for each other.

Dean shifted his hips slightly, angling his body down enough to catch Sam's cock between their abdomens. The added stimulation had Sam writhing and he released Dean's hands to bring them to his shoulders, giving a sob of pleasure.

"Wait," Sam breathed, eyelashes wet with unshed tears from the overstimulation. Dean stilled, panting, eyes darting back and forth over his features to ensure that he hadn't hurt him or gotten carried away. "I don't wanna come that fast.. let me just," he murmured, pushing his brother's shoulders to guide them to roll over so that he was straddling Dean now, careful not to have had him slip out. Dean stared up at Sam, sat atop him like it was his rightful throne, face and chest flushed, hair disheveled. 

Dean moved his hand to run along the taut, slender torso before him as Sam leaned back some, his hands finding an anchor point right above Dean's knees. He could see every newly developed muscle in his abdomen, the stretch of skin from growing quickly framing his physique so perfectly. He gazed in awe, licking his lips and catching his breath before Sam rolled his hips, lifting and dropping down, sucker punching a moan passed Dean's lips.

"Shit, Sammy," he breathed, fingers now gripping at Sam's tanned thighs, squeezing possessively as he countered his movements with arches of his own hips. "Look so fucking good riding me like that," he praised, moving one hand to curl his fingers around his brother's leaking cock before his hand was batted away.

"No, wanna come on your cock alone," Sam drawled, his expression somewhat dazed. Dean gave no argument as his hand gripped his hip instead, watching as Sam set his own pace, up and down at first, the new position giving him a front row view of the show, seeing just how stretched his cock had his baby brother's virgin hole. He groaned as his lashes fluttered, full set of lips remaining slightly agape as he continued to let pleasured sounds drip from them. And then he sat fully down on him and began to rock back and forth, the grinding of his engorged cock dragging along his insides had his balls seize up, impending orgasm quickly approaching.

Dean's eyes were fixated on the way the muscles moved, the way Sam tipped his head back and dragged one of his own hands up his body, touching over his chest and his neck an into his own wavy locks. He had never seen anything so sensual, so breathtakingly arousing, he could have come right then and there, but he wanted Sam to get off first.

"Oh my God," Dean groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment as he pressed his feet into the mattress, aiding in Sam's riding motion before he saw his eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open wider upon the constant pressure against his prostate. It only took a second or two more before his little brother was coming untouched, making a mess against Dean's stomach and chest before he was right behind him, forcing his hips down a bit harder before his dick throbbed and pulsated, emptying a hot and thick load deep inside of him.

Little thrusts of hips were given as they rode out their orgasms, both of them soon breathless and boneless as Sam leaned forward and collapsed against Dean's chest. His eyelids were heavy and his body was thrumming with post-coital bliss as Dean caressed along his back, blinking his vision back into focus.

"Goddamn," Dean breathed, taking a moment to catch his breath. "You okay, little brother?"

"Fucking amazing," Sam retorted with an airy chuckle, taking a deep inhale to exhale a content sigh. "Told you I was ready."

"Yeah, you called me out on that one." Dean smiled lazily to himself, bring a hand up to smooth through Sam's hair before he kissed the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Their moment of intimate affection was interrupted by Dean's cellphone ringing, making him grunt and curse under his breath. "That's probably dad. Are you okay to move?"

Sam gave a nod of his head and forced himself to sit up, slowly lifting his hips to have Dean slip out of him, come soon to follow.

"I'm gonna clean up," Sam murmured as he got off the bed with shaky legs, Dean giving a nod before he sat up himself and hurriedly moved to fish out his phone from his jacket pocket, flipping it open as he watched Sam head into the bathroom with a sweet little smile his way.

"Hello?" Dean answered as he flashed Sam the same smile, giving a little head tilt to check him out in the process. He was expecting a gruff voice on the other end but it came out much more feminine, his expression dropping when he realized who it was that was calling him.

"Hey Dean, it's Rhonda. Look, I'm sorry to bother you so late, but you're good with cars right?"

"Uh.. yeah, why?" Dean looked away from the bathroom where Sam was busy taking care of the aftermath, afraid that all the color had drained from his face. What perfect fucking timing to call.

"Weirdest thing happened. I think someone was vandalizing cars in the neighborhood or something cause my tires are slashed and they broke my rear window," Rhonda replied, voice distressed. "I already filed a police report, but I don't know if my insurance will cover all of it. Was kinda hoping to call in favor about getting my tires switched out if you have the time."

Dean's eyebrows pulled together as he suddenly looked towards the bathroom again, swearing he caught a glimpse of Sam watching him through the mirror.

"Oh, um, I'm not really sure.. I'd just take it to a mechanic. Y'know, let the professionals handle it." He wasn't about to get roped into meeting up with her after the conversation he had had with Sam earlier. "I'll let you know. Sorry, I gotta go."

"Oh, okay-"

Dean closed his phone and gazed at it in his grip for a moment or two before he noticed Sam standing in the doorframe of the bathroom.

"Ready for bed?" No question about who was calling, which was strange considering Sam could probably piece together that it wasn't their father. Dean let the silence linger for a beat or two before he set the phone down and cleared his throat.

"Yeah." He padded back over to the bed and got settled on his side before Sam joined him, pressed up nice and close. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Hm?"

He couldn't bring himself to ask. Sam wouldn't do something like that, would he?

"..Goodnight" Dean opted for instead, reaching over to turn out the light on the nightstand.

"Night. Love you."

"I love you too."

↳ part 1 || part 2 || link to ao3

[uthseikoashx-goingmyway]

throwing away some thoughts here. it has already been said, but i'd like to recap some things for myself, i have to get all of it out of my system, lmao

EVEN if i set aside my desire for DM to happen a first time in the 1970s/80s (and come back in the 2020s), and examine the situation with some kind of honesty, there ARE leads and clues. or rather, unexplained elements that aren't actually troublesome if unexploited, but that would get depth if they were refered to in a later season.

specifically talking about three things:

the infamous Alice recalling and "she didn't trust you," etc, passage:

we can explain, i suppose, Armand's comment by saying he pulled this info out of Daniel's brain — which would mean it's not an info but one of Daniel's interpretation, by the way. taken from a DM perspective: either it's fuel for the A=A theory, or it implies that Armand was around when it happened.

Daniel foggy memories during the 1970s:

again, it could be explained by Daniel's drug use at the time, as he himself assumes. now, that would be irresponsable of us to not, as least, question it, considering Armand's ability to lock away someone's memories; worse, not only his ability, but the fact that he did this not only to Daniel — a human — but also to Louis, his husband. (to be perfectly sincere, i was (before season 2), and still am, a strong believer of what's sometimes nicknamed here the "eternal-sunshine theory"; it influences my outlook on this, it's so cool)

Armand turning Daniel despite his virulent unwilingness to ever make a fledgling — and we know nothing about how it happened:

still shocked about that, if i'm honest! i find it difficult to believe Armand would turn Daniel out of spite. when Louis read his notes on the script, he didn't seem angry at Daniel but panicking about Louis leaving him: it was a very Loumand moment (the last of the season!); i didn't doubt Armand would not kill Daniel, precisely because Louis told him not to. one might think he would curse Daniel then, a gift worse than death, out of spite and to punish both Daniel and Louis. but Armand repeating over and over how he never made any fledgling and how he never could, never would... a context, a story between them might be a great explanation for a later season. the mystery is still complete; maybe they — Armand and Daniel — had a very long conversation, or they actually had not and because of some element in Armand's past, he actually snapped; or they fought, Armand hurt Daniel, and to save him, Armand turned him... it definitely is the strangest plot point about them and no doubt we'll get answers in a later season; besides, i think several things may be true at same the time — Armand hurting Daniel and DM in the past, etc, etc.

and not to mention some elements like "you're going to teach me how to be fascinating" (2x05), what seems to be Daniel's desire or subdued lust (especially in season 1 with the godsent "what does he taste like?" / sucking on the diner table scene), their dynamics or some of Armand's looks that can only be suspicious... all of this is not enough, in my opinion, to be sure that DM happened in the 1970s in the series canon; but the 3 points developed here sure would make more sense in a past-DM context (methinks)

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Rules To Break

Jotun!Prince!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Princess!Reader

Summary: Prince Loki of Jotunheim - son of King Laufey and heir to the throne is assigned to train a bunch of Asgardian men, in order to turn them into warriors. What happens when Odin's daughter, Princess Y/N crosses his paths in ways he would've never expected? While the Prince is completely unaware, the Princess struggles to keep up her several masquerades...

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, bit of suggestive smut... I think that was it! Let me know if I forgot something!

Word Count: 2k

a/n: This is it, guys! The grand finale! 😁 I hope you all like it! ☺️

Divider by the lovely @fictive-sl0th 💚

Tagging: (in the comments!)

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

You would've expected a lot of people to step inside your chambers. Estrid, your father, brother, guards - but you would've never expected to see the tall, bulky and handsome frame of the man who haunted your dreams and occupied your mind on no end - Loki. You couldn't believe your eyes at first, blinking heavily and literally staring holes into him. "L-Loki?" You asked in disbelief; quite shocked. You didn't know how to feel about this. Feeling the urge to yell at him on one side. To tell him to go away and never come back. You wanted to let him know how much you hated him. Spit it right into his face. Though, on the other side, you couldn't deny the way your heart skipped more than just one beat, when you laid your eyes upon him; or when he gave you that smile.

"Hello, princess Y/N." Loki started, taking a bow. "I am sorry for disturbing you and being so rude to just barge in - and I'm certain you wish to know why I am here at all." The moment his deep, yet soft voice urged to your ears, your memory immediately took you back to the lake all those weeks ago. Especially to that one night, where he kissed you. A tingly feeling spread all throughout your belly at that thought. "I-I... Yes." More words weren't able to leave your lips. You were way too overwhelmed by all those feelings and thoughts coursing through your system - and by his sudden appearance.

"Well, first of all, I... I would like to apologise. I am the reason you are trapped inside your chambers. I regret informing your father. I really do, but I-I had no other choice. You must understand this. I had my duties and obligations, unfortunately. So, I beg of you... Please forgive me, my princess." His kind and gentle words touched you. There was, without a doubt, honesty swinging within his voice, telling you that he really meant what he said. This wasn't one of his macho shows, no... That was him, showing you his probably most vulnerable side. You could feel that he was truly sorry, but... Could you forgive him? It was a difficult question, but then you remembered, how you actually lied to him. You didn't tell him who you were. You kissed Loki, without him even knowing that you were the princess. Hence, you almost slept with him. You put on a mask and more or less fooled him. So... Was it fair to be still angry at him, when he wasn't angry at you anymore? Both, you and him made mistakes.

You looked up to meet his ruby eyes, nodding. "I understand you, prince Loki. I forgive you - and I-I hope you can forgive me, too." The prince's lips twitched into a smile; visibly relieved. "I forgave you already a long time ago, Y/N." You couldn't help the blush, which spread over your cheeks; his charming smile causing your heart to skip another beat. But the look in his eyes told you, that this wasn't the only reason why he was here today.

"You, uh... You didn't just come all the way from Jotunheim to apologise, did you?" Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I didn't. You are right," he said, stepping closer. Blinking, you frowned, as the prince reached for your hand and gently - almost cautiously; afraid to make a mistake - took yours into his big one, swallowing it whole. You were confused and yet you felt those butterflies within your belly again, as he touched you; never wanting him to let go, because it felt so good. So right. As if your hand belonged right there. You saw that he was quite a bit nervous - something very unusual for the usually so confident and sassy prince, you thought. You could've sworn you saw his heart beating against his bare chest, as his stunning eyes met yours once more. "Y/N, I... I just couldn't stop thinking about you the past weeks. I tried to occupy my mind; take my thoughts elsewhere, but... I couldn't. I think about you day and night. In fact, I find myself thinking about you even at the most inopportune moments of the day. I was blind at first, didn't know what was going on, but then I realised... I... I love you, Y/N. Ever since those nights we spent together at the lake. I fell in love - hopelessly, and... And for some reason I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine, and should that link be broken, either by distance or by time, then my heart would cease to beat and I would die."*

His words echoed in your head, repeating themselves over and over again. Loki is in love with you. Loki loves you. He is in love with you. Hearing this, caused your heart to almost beat out of your chest. He loves you. You never anticipated, that he would ever feel the same. That you could be more to him than just an 'adventure'. Another fling. Nothing more. But now... Now he told you that he loved you - and the feeling was mutual. You didn't want to admit to yourself and neither to Estrid, but it was true. You knew that now. You loved him, too.

"I-I really hope that my heart didn't betray me and that you are feeling the sa-" You didn't let Loki finish his sentence. Enough talking, you thought and freed your hand from his gentle grasp, wrapping both your hands around his neck. Standing on your tiptoes, you pulled him down and silenced him with a kiss. The second your lips collided with his, fireworks exploded within you. It felt so good to finally kiss him again. So right. Like home... It felt like home.

Loki sighed into the kiss, relieved. That was all he needed to know, in order to ask you the important question, which was still lingering on his mind. But first, he enjoyed the kiss; unable to resist the urge to pull you closer. So, the prince did just that, wrapping his strong arms around you. "I take that as a yes then." Loki chuckled breathlessly, after letting go of your alluring lips. "You better will." He smiled; couldn't help but to kiss you again. It was more than clear, that you loved the prince truly and wholeheartedly - and yet, there was still nervosity running through his veins, given the fact that he still had to ask you the probably most important question of both, yours and his life. "There's... There's something else, darling..." Loki started, tracing the clothed skin of your hips with his thumbs. You looked at him expectantly; waiting patiently for him to continue to speak. "A question I have to ask you..." "You may ask, my prince. Whatever it is." He took a breath, eyes never leaving yours. "I really hope this isn't too bold to ask, but... Would you like to marry me, princess Y/N?"

You blinked, couldn't quite believe the words which had just left Loki's lips. "M-Marry you?" He nodded. "I know this is quite rushed, but yes. I really wish to marry you." "I-I..." "If you need more time or don't want to marry me, it's completely fine." You shook your head. "N-No! I... I do want to marry you! It's just so... surprising. I'm a bit overwhelmed." Loki's brows furrowed in compassion. "I'm so sorry, my love, for catching you off-guard." You squeezed his shoulders, giving him a soft smile. "It's the best surprise since years. I always wished to marry out of love - not because I had to. I just hope my father agrees to this..." "He does, my princess. I already talked to him; asked for your hand in marriage." Your eyes widened. "Y-You did?" "Yes. We have his blessing - and my father's blessing." A light-hearted giggle left your lips, as you felt happiness flooding your veins. Was this really just happening? Or were you dreaming? "So, we are going to get married?" "We are, darling. I'm never letting you go again. I don't want another prince to have you. It's time for me to make you mine."

"And that's how I met your father." You finished telling the love story of you and Loki to your eight-year-old twins, Áki and Váli. The boys were sitting on the fur, criss-crossed in front of you and the fireplace with wide eyes, hanging on your every word. Of course, you told the story more 'romantically' and left out the juicy, 'dirty' and 'dangerous' details, of course. They weren't meant for children's ears. "Wow..." Váli gasped. "So you are actually a warrior, mommy?" Asked Áki. You chuckled, running your hands through both boy's curls. "If you wish to call it that, yes." "Is that why daddy fell in love with you?" You had to suppress a giggle at your son's sweet, innocent question. "Perhaps, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you have to ask your father." "Ask me what?" You flinched as Loki's voice was suddenly echoing through your chambers. He had been away on royal duty for three days and had just come home.

"Daddy!" Both boys jumped up; excited to see their father again. "Hello, little princes." Loki smiled and squatted down, opening his arms for them to run into - what they did, of course. Your husband lifted them up easily, cradling each son in one arm. "I missed you." "I missed you, too, daddy," Váli whispered, cuddling closer to Loki.

Both boys didn't leave Loki's side from then on; clinging to him. He spent some quality time with his sons, of course, before he sent them to play outside a bit. He had missed his own flesh and blood, without a doubt - but he had also missed you.

"What was it Áki should ask me?" The king asked, wrapping both his arms around you, as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the festive dinner tonight. You smiled at the mention of what you had told the twins. "Well, I was telling them our love story, because they asked me how I met you; being all curious about this and Áki was very enthralled by the fact that I was a 'warrior'. He asked me if you fell in love with me because of that... I told him to ask you." Loki chuckled. "So, you told them our fairytale-like love story?" "I did - but of course I left out certain... details." "Certain details?" "Yes... Certain details, which are not meant for children's ears." Your husband spun you quickly around in his arms; a cheeky smile spreading over his lips. He knew of course exactly what you were talking about.

"I should've devoured you back then." You looked up at Loki, giving him a playful frown. "I beg your pardon, my king?" Another low chuckle left his lips; hands dipping to skim the clothed skin of your hips. "Back at the lake. I should've ravished you. It wouldn't have been wrong, given the fact that I became your husband anyway." A loud giggle rumbled through your chest, causing Loki's heart to skip a beat. Oh how much he loved you. "Good point, my love, but we didn't know that back then. And we both know that we shouldn't have risked it. I did what was right." "I know, my sweetness, I know." "Besides, you didn't even know who I was." Your husband nodded. "That is true, but it wouldn't have mattered. Even if you had just been a maiden, working on a farm, I would've made you my princess. My wife. The mother of my children. My queen, you are the only woman I truly ever wanted. You being the princess of Asgard just played into our cards. Nothing more, nothing less." You wrapped both your arms around his neck, smiling and blushing. "I love you, my king. More than words can say."

* Disclaimer: The last line is actually a quote from Guillermo del Toro's 'Crimson Peak' and therefore isn't my writing. It belongs to Mr. del Toro. ☺️ I just found it very fitting.

[thenotsofantasticlifestory]

I just had to get this out, ever since this post by @babblingeccentric it's literally all I can think about I'm ruined. Probably (definitely) gonna flush this out into a full smut but have this for now

Kid felt himself pulling at the feathers of his jacket for the twentieth time. Nothing was really even going on, he was in the main lounge of the ship with other crew members having a drink and chatting away as the ship sailed smoothly toward their next destination.

He just couldn’t stop staring at you.

It was ridiculous really, how someone so much smaller than him was able to take him down sexually. You had finally convinced him to let you peg him the previous night and Kid was quickly whipped for it.

Sure, he started out on top, it was just in his nature, hell he hadn’t even really expected to enjoy this that much but you were so keen to try it he figure he’d be a good boyfriend and give it a shot. What shocked him were the lewd, downright filthy moans and whines the cock punched out of him as his entire body flushed and he felt himself melting from the inside out in one of the most mind-blowing orgasms he’d ever had.

Needless to say, he wanted to do it again.

But the idea of it, bringing him, Eustass Kid, down on his hand and knees into a quivering heated mess, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. It was like seeing some other version of himself he hadn’t known existed, still wasn’t entirely convinced actually did exist if it weren’t for the slight soreness of his ass the following day. He had a reputation to uphold after all, he was one of the most feared, bloodthirsty men of the seas and the crew definitely didn’t need to get involved in the intricacies of their captain’s sex life.

You caught his eye and Kid felt himself flush down to his neck, images of the previous night already replaying in his head, the sweat dripping down his shaky thighs as you fucked into him, letting him rut into the sheets for some desperate relief, pulling him back by his hair as you angled just right that had him seeing stars, lipstick smeared across his face, when you-

Kid nearly slapped himself, probably would have if he hadn’t been in a room full of people.

Get it fucking together.

To his horror he saw you saunter your way over, maybe it was the fact you’d pegged him last night but there seemed to be a more confident strut to your step, or maybe he was just imagining things. Kid put the beer he had to his mouth and chugged.

“Doing okay?” you asked.

He choked just a bit, managing to cover it up as a cough as he wiped his lips, “ ‘M fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well it seems like you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

Kid glanced down at your hand, fingers lightly gripping the bottle and remembered the way those clever fingers twisted inside him, stretching him, prepping him. Kid gulped, he could feel a stirring in his pants already and shuffled a bit to hide it.

“Did I do something to make you mad?” You asked and Kid stared back wide eyed, genuinely confused.

“What?”

“Well, ever since last night I can’t seem to get two seconds with you,” you leaned in closer, a conspiratorial whisper and Kid felt you pressing against him in ways he liked a little too much, “I mean, you seemed like you really liked it, but if you didn’t-“

“It’s not that!” he hissed, eyes darting around to see if any of the others were eavesdropping their conversation. Against his better judgement, he decided honesty was probably the best policy here, “I just can’t even fucking look at you…”

You pulled back, looking hurt, “Why?”

“No! Shit it’s just…” his head swung around, wary of the others, “…I just keep thinking about last night and-…”

You noticed the bulge growing in his pants and suddenly understood, “Oh,” a sly smirk crawled up your face as you discreetly ran a teasing finger down his length, and the way he practically jumped had your grin growing wider.

“So you did like it huh?”

Kid grumbled, “Just shut up and stand in front of me until I get this under control,” he grasped your shoulders, placing you strategically in before him. But of course, you had to tease him a bit, I mean who ever got to see this side of Eustass Kid?

“You know,” you leaned in casually, “I didn’t know you were such a screamer.”

Kid froze, his eyes wide and face red.

“It’s cute~” you continued.

His hand slapped over your mouth with a whispered hiss of ‘shut the fuck up’ but he could feel your grin against his fingers and it made the heat bloom to the tips of his ears.