#its not even a half of it and it already has like 1400 words

[foxqueen211]

My favourite part of Shadowpeach Fire Within one-shot im writing

[rebel-hunk-enjoyer]

I want to know everything about the WIP game, that's so unfair! :'''''( Okay, I'm currenly most curious about "Kallus is soft" and/or "grippy sock vacay". If someone has already asked about these, then "Agent Kallus - former Agent, now just Kallus", pretty please :D

Ahhhh, thank you!!! 😭😭 I want to talk about all of these and like hopefully get inspired to finish them but I'm worried that would be a long rambling monster of a post lmao

So, um. "Kallus is soft"!

This is my very first attempt as writing Rebels fic - from 2021!?! - and is still sitting unfinished but started life as my attempt to wax poetic about Kallus putting on some weight after defecting and ended up coming out more as a Kallus being hard on himself for feeling feelings and letting those feelings guide his judgment. (I think the physical softness was going to come later. And there was definitely going to be some get together with Zeb, too.)

But the part I actually managed to write is set while Rex and Kallus are in command of the Ghost during the Lothal operation, because I honestly love the idea of Rex and Kallus unexpectedly getting along, and features a very cute lil alien OC and it's only like 1400 words so I'm just going to put it all here!

Please enjoy soft Kallus and Grandpa Rex and Nej the Soon to be Parent.

It began with an off-handed comment.

“Guess I’m going soft already,” he said dryly, more to the ethereal glow of the hyperspace lane that streaked past than to the clone seated next to him in the cockpit. 

“Eh?” Rex had asked, as if his ears weren’t just as keen as the day he was decanted from his growth tube. When no response was immediately forthcoming, the former trooper pinned him down with a pointed, “What’s that, Alex?”

Kallus, who had been trying his best to disavow ownership of the comment, started a bit upon hearing his given name. Just as Rex knew he would, as unaccustomed to hearing it said aloud as he would be after years of Imperial service.

“I said: ‘guess I’m going soft already,’” Kallus repeated, his inflection colored with just a touch more ironic humor than he allowed before.

“What? For plotting the fastest course back?” Rex wondered, giving his white beard a thoughtful scratch as he pored over the Ghost’s navigation console, as if checking Kallus’ work and attempting to root out whatever fault was to be found there.

“Indeed,” Kallus admitted. “A few more hyperspace jumps would better mask our trail.”

“But would add half a cycle to the journey,” Rex said, not in disagreement. “We’ve been running ourselves ragged on this supply haul. No shame in wanting to get to our off rotation a bit faster.”

Isn’t there? Kallus wanted to ask. Hurrying toward leisure time, rather than duty, was nothing to pride oneself in, even if he did plan to utilize his to the fullest extent by servicing their borrowed ship. 

Rex, used to receiving either silence or non-committal hums from his unlikely companion, went on undaunted. “Besides,” he said, his tone light and conversational as he shifted to put his feet up on a corner of the navigation console, “I assumed you picked the route most likely to alert the Empire of our presence.”

It was an accusation so well-worn that Kallus was more intimately familiar with the ceiling of the Ghost’s cockpit than he was its controls, rolling his eyes each time the old trooper questioned his true loyalties. Suspicion of his intentions in joining the Rebellion, at least as far as Rex was concerned, dissipated almost as soon as he changed seats with the clone upon Hera handing over temporary custody of the Ghost to them, but Rex seemed to have taken it upon himself to continuously jab at Kallus’ own insecurities about his questioned loyalty until he had formed quite the thick skin over what was once a sore spot.

“Yes, well, you’ve locked me out of hyperspace communication, Captain,” Kallus answered dryly, “so now I can only hope to catch some Imperial deck officer’s attention on a flyby.”

Rex huffed out a short laugh. “Thought so,” he retorted. “Good thing I rerouted us while you weren’t looking.”

“You didn’t!” Kallus challenged immediately, lurching forward to check the routing coordinates.

“No, but if you cared all that much about ‘going soft,’ you wouldn’t mind if I had,” Rex countered. He wore smug better than most clones Kallus had met, despite having the same features. 

“A fair point,” the former ISB agent admitted as he deflated over the controls. 

Rex tucked both arms behind his head to cushion its recline as he settled in for the first leg of their jump. The seat creaked as he shifted his backside into it and he exhaled a satisfied sigh upon finding the perfect position to rest his weary bones into. “Nej worrying you just about to death, eh?”

Nej, one of the volunteer crew Rex and Kallus took on for the supply runs while Hera’s crew was besieged on Lothal, was chiefly composed of worries, it seemed, and had somehow mastered the fine art of spreading those worries to empathetic beings in their general vicinity. 

“Well, their partner is ... ” Kallus began, but ultimately waved one hand in a fruitless gesture.

“ ... about to pop one out,” Rex agreed with the gesture, sounding only vaguely haunted by the concept of biological reproduction. He appeared to be conceptually fine with it, in theory, but a little uncertain about the same things that made Kallus go from verbal to gestural. 

“Yes,” Kallus agreed. “About to - that.”

“I’d say it’s rather kind of you to give a wampa’s tit about getting back in a hurry,” Rex admitted. “Either for Nej’s sake or ours having to listen to them.”

Here, Kallus injected his typical non-committal noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing with the compliment Rex paid. 

It wasn’t until he had settled in with his datapad to catch up on some reading that Rex ventured past the noise to question, “Anything wrong with being soft, Alex?”

There was his given name again, hooking his attention as effortlessly as, he was told, Rex and his brothers once used Garazeb to bait a joopa. Rex was a decent fisherman, all told.

“Generally, no,” Kallus answered, focusing his eyes on the datapad but his attention on keeping his tone of voice neutral.

“But personally?”

It was truly devastating how Rex’s weapons proficiency extended all the way to verbal sparring.

“But, personally,” Kallus repeated the question before daubing his own honesty onto it, “I would prefer not to be.”

The old clone turned the tables on him, then, offering up just a solitary noise in response.

But it was not a non-committal noise. 

Far from it, in fact. 

Rex had exhaled a little ‘huh’ of astonished confirmation, as if he’d read Kallus’ response in the tarine leaves at the bottom of a teacup before Kallus spoke them aloud.

Kallus knew better than to outright ask what that kind of response was supposed to mean, even if it began to eat at him during the long moments of silence that stretched out between them following it. Gradually, he began to focus on the information the datapad provided, while Rex either contemplated the play of hyperspace light on the backs of his eyelids or helped himself to a short nap. The cockpit grew quiet, apart from the soft ambient noise of the engines that Kallus only imagined thrummed in time with the blue streaks of hyperspace beyond the forward window. 

“Sir?” came a soft voice from the hatch leading out into the interior corridor of the ship.

Kallus glanced up from his reading, seeing Nej backlit by the harsh light behind them. “What is it, Nej?” he asked, though not unkindly.

“Any chance we’ll be back to base before next cycle?” Nej wondered. They were always a little more level in their dealings with Kallus. Hopefully, he told himself, because he was an unknown quantity and not a potential Imperial agent within their midst.

“Yes, Nej,” Kallus answered, fondly exasperated by the question. “We’re taking the shorter route home. You’ll be back in time.” He had to concentrate on keeping his hand from making that same vague biological reproduction gesture he’d made at Rex to illustrate what, exactly, Nej would be in time for.

Whatever internal mechanism by which Nej lived their life flipped at the news and turned their compact muscular frame into something akin to the fireworks display Kallus was caught up in the middle of last Empire Day. Bright, cheerful, and a tad dangerous in its intense proximity. “Star’s end!” Nej declared, thumping a hand on the bulkhead between the cockpit and corridor. “You’re the best, Captain Kallus!”

Kallus heard Rex suck in a slightly louder breath in response to the thump, confirming that he’d taken to napping through the long lull in their conversation. It still took him a few moments to open his eyes and glance down at the controls to confirm the time and their position.

“Not at all,” Kallus assured Nej, deftly deflecting the hyperbolic compliment. “Fuel gauge was in your and Vyna’s favor, that’s all.”

Nej still looked like their round, cheerful face might not have enough room to contain the fullness of their smile. “That was lucky!” 

“It was,” Kallus answered. He gave Nej quite enough time to enjoy the moment of knowing they would be back to base in time to witness the birth of their offspring, before adding, “You’ll be able to finish the manifest in time, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir!” confirmed Nej, giving a snappy and thoroughly unnecessary salute before turning back to follow the main corridor to the cargo hold.

Kallus returned to his reading, scrolling back a couple of paragraphs to reorient himself in the chapter, though it was difficult to concentrate once he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Rex was grinning just about as widely as Nej had been.

“Plenty of fuel,” Rex noted casually.

“I know,” Kallus replied.

“Nothing wrong with being soft,” Rex added after a beat, as if noting the weather.

Kallus opened his mouth to respond curtly, but an abrupt huff of laughter escaped him, instead.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, instead.

[quasarwake]

His Things

Part of Challenging Wings and Things, readable on Ao3!

Jay and Starscream have a quiet discussion while Starscream considers exactly why he kidnapped himself a human pet. 1400+ words, Starscream/Original Human Character No set universe/Continuity Soup CW for mentions of past abuse

"This is what you were doing with your day?"

The open wall of the enclosure was... different, in appearance. The human he'd designated his pet had been putting garlands of fake leaves around the walls of the shipping container he had acquired for it- it had seemed like a suitable enough house for his new pet, but it seemed that it had had other ideas for what 'suitable' meant.

The curtain came up first- a patchwork of sheets and blankets that the human had, with some difficulty, managed to hang up, which honestly suited Starscream just fine.

"You didn't exactly grab me a lot of useful things," it was saying, stepping back from its work to examine it. "A lot of the stuff you stole is really good for decoration, but not exactly necessities, or even like, furniture. But it means I can make something nice out of my space."

"So none of this is beneficial for your survival." Starscream was annoyed at that. He had gone out of his way to snatch up a lot of human goods, and that drew a lot of attention!

The human shook its head. "Not physically, but doing this gives me something to do, and I dunno about you guys, but humans tend to like making the places they live nice. I bet it'd be even better with real plants, but I'm already enjoying having these to look at."

As if he cared- or would admit to caring- about what humans did in their spare time, how they made their habitats comfortable. But his human? He would at least observe and learn about.

And he was curious. So many solar cycles had gone by, and though he genuinely felt that humans were less intelligent, inferior, to Cybertronians and Transformers as a whole, he had to wonder what this one thought about being the pet to an alien invader.

He wondered if it had noticed him the few times he had seen it, before it had gotten onto that transit vehicle. The vibrant hair had caught his attention with the myriad of colours it was done in- red, blue, a bit of yellow, his colours.

The spots on its skin that later, he had learned were temporary , dents in the flesh that showed broken blood vessels in that fleshy body. Bruises. Something or some one had damaged his pet- unfortunate that he had no clue who.

Almost all of them had turned a strange yellow colour that did not match well with the rest of their skin, but the human evidently had little control over that.

He crossed his arms over the desk, resting his chin over them. "...is it really so easy to go about as though this is an... ordinary activity?"

Did all humans adapt this quickly? This was just decoration, after all- it almost looked like a little cave in there, a cave set up on his work-desk, taking up almost half the space now. He couldn't imagine he'd be decorating much, even if given the items for it.

It stiffened at his question, he watched its whole body lock up for a moment- before it turned around, such an odd smile on its face.

"...I'll be real. I haven't exactly... been able to think about it, until recently. I've been kind of numb, and uh. Well, the fresh food you guys managed to get has helped my thinking out a lot , I'll be honest. I'll need a lot more of that though and like, soon."

Starscream grunted his displeasure. He would delegate that task to another- Skywarp, perhaps. And this- this was far more candid than anything the human had said before. He knew humans were smart enough to lie, to pretend, to deceive just as much as any Cybertronian could, and so far, his pet had leaned more docile than... a person.

"And at some point, I'll need to have something like... a shower, or a place I can actually soak myself in warm water. Unless you want a dirty pet," it added, the last bit a quiet mutter that Starscream wondered if it didn't think he could hear . He chuckled, feeling that mix of amusement and annoyance flaring his wings- getting himself a pet that could tell him what it needed had its up and downs.

"Our medic and scientist are both working on their own individual projects concerning such matters," Starscream stated. "The ship has organic containment units that can be retrofitted from menagerie handling to something more practical."

"They're quarantine units for now though, right?"

Starscream was surprised that it remembered him stating as much, and nodded. His pet grew quiet, for a moment, shuffling a piece of fake plant that it had already adjusted to fit well where it was.

"...I'll get to meet the new guy when they're done with quarantine, right?" it asked, voice quiet. Starscream wondered if he could hear a wavering in its tone. He wondered, properly for the first time, why he had gone out of his way to grab himself a pet. He hadn't had time to stop and think on the why , when he had been focused more on getting everything a pet needed in order.

Perhaps it had been the volume that had been projected from that little house, so loud on such a small spit of land, barely connected to the main continent.

He had seen it, three separate times- disguised at that human airbase, he could hear the way those swinging doors would slam shut, that little human with such bright hair and such a shrill voice, the booming lowing of the other human always in blunt return. Once, he had seen his pet step only so far as the door before screaming , howling with its face pointed towards the sky, more air than he ever imagined such a tiny body could hold erupting from its throat as if to seed the very clouds-

He truly hadn’t thought much to compare himself to this human. Only now, wondering at its personhood, did he feel the uncomfortable realisation, recognition, that there had been such a familiar cadence to those arguments he had heard.

At the time it had simply been enough to take a pet for himself that he had found intriguing. Now, it was making decisions for decorations, talking to him with its guard down, and asking to connect it socially to the other human aboard.

And a part of him wanted to deny his pet the pleasure, the social needs it had- shouldn’t he be enough? Every time before he had mentioned bringing it home, allowing it to be rescued, it had shown such fear , such anxiety on its face. And now it wanted to see another human? Slag it all he had even allowed it to roam with Knockout, on occasion!

“...Starscream?”

…there he was, lost in internal processes, how unlike himself. That look of worry cooled his boiling thoughts slightly, and it served to soften the sharpness of his tone.

“Soundwave wishes to observe you two interact, so that will be more requirement than choice,” he stated, remembering, with annoyance, the firm request from the informations officer. “But you will have several solar cycles to prepare yourself. If that eases your worries.”

“Kinda hard to read a day when you can’t see the sun,” it muttered so quietly that Starscream almost didn’t hear it- and there it was, that cooling sensation, that calmness that eased the stiffness in his wings. He laughed, rasping a chuckle, crossing his arms on the desk and resting his chin on them, watching with amusement as his pet’s face reddened.

“...there will be time soon enough where we will see the sun together- I think it could be fun to see you wobbling around after a flight again~”

There was a look of panic on the human’s face, before it pinched into a scowl, and Starscream chuckled again. “If you want me throwing up in your cockpit, go ahead- I’m still not able to handle G-force pressure on my body.”

“All the more reason to get you used to it. Though perhaps I’ll let Skywarp or Thundercracker handle the mess~” And how quickly humans could change their colour, from that rich red to that odd, pale pale pink.

“...don’t do that to Thundercracker. And don’t do Skywarp to me, please!”

Cackling now, Starscream could feel himself relaxing properly- this was his pet, so what if it wanted to socialise with other humans? It was human- they seemed to need that level of socialising.

This was still his human, his pet, his little creature to toy with and tease.

And ups or downs, he hadn’t gotten bored of it yet.

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter- Chapter 8

A/N- This week was rough, I procrastinated this a lot. I'm so sorry, it's not the best quality :( I hope you guys like it anyway!! Thank you all so much for the support!!

Word count: 1.4k

Reader pov:

You sat down on your bed, replaying the day's events in your mind. You realized your spine was still rigid and your muscles still taut even hours after returning. You allowed yourself to relax just a little, slipping into bed and under the thin sheets. Exhaustion easing you out of the depressing grip of failure. Finally you closed your eyes.

Beep beep

But not for long enough.

You groaned as you climbed out of bed, feeling all of your joints pop, your fingers were raw from the metal of your gun. The failure of yesterday's mission still plagued you as you unwrapped your bandages to reveal where the knife had cut.

It didn't look too bad, it wasn't infected and had already started to scab over. You swiped an antiseptic wipe over it and slapped a fresh bandage on as you completed the rest of your morning routine.

Breakfast came and went, you took your unofficial assigned seat at the table, but the conversation was different. The group was solemn, it wasn't only you that was still dwelling on the mission. The six of you ate in silence before getting up from the table and heading towards the meeting room one by one.

When the last of you had arrived, Price wasted no time starting the debriefing. You willed yourself to stay awake, fighting the sleep deprived droop of your eyelids as your father explained the mishap.

"A lowly gang-" you yawned.

"Colonel bla bla bla, sent a group of yada yada," You began to tune him out.

"Survivors captured,"

"Should have been an easy in and-"

You felt a sharp pain in your shin, you looked across from you to the source of the kick. You were met with a blank stare from your lieutenant.

"What the fuck?" you mouthed at him.

"Shouldn't be falling asleep during a debriefing, valuable information to be picked up," he tsked.

You rolled your eyes but remained at attention, not wanting to feel the consequences at training later.

The meeting concluded and you left the room alongside Gaz, you were joined by Soap when he entered the hallway. Before you even had a chance to breathe or say a word to your friends, Ghost came up behind you.

"Training room 1400, every minute late is 10 pushups." He walks away before you can respond.

You sigh heavily.

"So how is training with Ghost anyway," Gaz inquires.

"Its- its work," you breathe.

Soap laughs, "He trains you half to death doesn't he?"

You let out a laugh of your own, "Sure feels like it."

"Hey, he just doesn't want to see you hurt, he wants to make you an even better soldier," Soap's demeanor turns suddenly.

You're reminded of the time in line for breakfast less than a week ago. Why is Ghost so weird about you? Why do you care?

"The guy's been through a lot, seen a lot, seen others go through some shit he doesn't want to happen to you," Gaz pipes up.

"But why does he care, why doesn't he show it?" Your getting more and more confused with each word out of their mouths.

"Alright, I know LT better than pretty much anyone, and I know that this man cares deeply about his comrades, but shiiiit- I ain't ever seen this guy act like this," Soap started.

"Act like what?" you said.

"Such a bumbling fool. Normally Ghostie is always down for a good shit talk sesh, mans has ALL the tea, lurking in the shadows has its perks I guess. But about you- well not that I was talking shit but I just wanted to know his opinion and uh- Anyways. He shut me down immediately. I couldn't even ask him his thoughts on you."

"So? he doesn't want to think about me, that's how much he despises me," You countered as you made your way through the corridors.

"Oh no, no, no," said Gaz, remembering something.

"You and Cap went out somewhere, on a run or something, and Soap, Ghost, and I were watching whatever garbage was on the evening channels, and we started talking about you- all good things of course. Butttt- I remember feeling his posture go absolutely rigid at the mention of your name, he went straight to attention, before tellin us to quit yappin," Gaz recalled.

Before you could get a word in, Soap continued, "And if there's one thing to know about Ghost, he keeps his things to himself. If he likes or cares about something, you best bet that it is staying locked down and guarded in his brain. If anyone so much as says anything about a person or thing near and dear to him, their getting shut down immediately."

"Okay, yeah sure, but I don't see how any of this pertains to me, considering how you say he cares about all of his teammates."

"Also, why am I being talked about so much behind my back?" You raise an eyebrow.

"All good things I swear," Gaz chuckles, raising his hands in surrender.

Soap interrupts as you two are laughing. "Because I've never seen him so.. protective"

"I dunno, just the way he reacted yesterday when that man had you on the ground. The way his eyes narrowed and he balled his fists. He completely lost his cool and that's highly unlike him."

You didn't take notice of that, well maybe because you were fighting for your life against a man with a knife to your throat.

"So he thinks I need protection?" You ask.

"I think he wants you to need his protection" Gaz smirked

"What are you implying," you said, fearing the worst.

"Oh you know what we mean," Soap teased.

"Oh cut it out"

"Your blushing," Gaz pointed out.

"Don't think the way you look at him goes unnoticed. Or, the way you stuck by him during the mission," Soap was having a blast teasing you.

"Shut it," you said hiding your smile.

"So you do like him"

"No, not like that. I think he's- interesting, I'd like to get to know him more." You settled for that explanation.

In reality, you'd been thinking of him more than you'd like to admit. Not in a romantic way just yet, but the thought has crossed your mind. It's more of an intrigue, you wondered about him. Wondered about where he called home, who he went home to, if anyone. Maybe once or twice you've entertained the thought of him coming home to you...

Ghost's Pov

I had one hour before I had to train Y/N, so I decided to get a quick lift in, today was a back and chest day. As I grabbed two dumbells to perform the pec-fly exercise I conjured up a plan for Y/N. Today would be a strength training day. She was defenseless against that man yesterday. If she wanted to stand a chance in the field, she would have to get stronger.

In order for her to survive, she would have to get stronger.

In order for her to survive, I would have to train her harder.

A few minutes before our scheduled time, she walks in. Perfect timing, I had just finished my workout.

"Lets start right away," I commanded.

I walked her over to a squat rack, I taught her correct form and put an adequate amount of weight on the bar. She went into the first set of squats, after about three she was already struggling. She finished the first set and stopped to stretch her quivering muscles.

"Too -gasp- heavy -gasp-" she said out of breath.

I rolled my eyes, "You did the first set, you can finish it out."

"Ghost-" she groaned

"Rest's over," was my only response.

She took her place at the rack again, slowly going down and back up. Her thighs trembled, her face scrunched in agony.

"Lower!" I yelled.

Her form went to shit on the next few reps.

"Fix your form."

She barely finished the set, "Ghost, I can't"

"Yes you can, 30 more seconds rest then right back on it!"

The next two hours were the same, Y/N got more exhausted with each exercise, I started to feel sympathetic as I watched her limp to the locker room.

But then the image of her being easily thrown about by that soldier flashed in my mind. I knew I would push her even harder tomorrow.

[slut4daviii]

character: r.sukuna

pt: 01/02

cw: grinding | degradation | humiliation | orgasm control | slight comedy | slightly ooc sukuna | hopefully funny internal dialogue

summary: “everyone’s gay until proven straight” -Albert Einstein 1994

a/n: the quote above is satire, please do not take it seriously. also, minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT [s.name] = sister name, you don’t have a sister? then your really missing out.

title: one down, one to go

wc: 1400+

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The Itadori's estate was something that existed beyond the imagination. A large residential reserve of land tucked comfortably away in a three-way forest covered reservoir. The north, south, and east sides were completely surrounded by towering trees, rocketing higher than the eye could see.

The south side was the only actual entrance to the large building, a winding driveway that spun beautifully around a dove shaped fountain situated in the middle of a crystalline indigo-green pond.

It was passed down the family line, never losing its luster. It was usually used for casual parties: gowns and suits, champagne popping, fancy displays of money, marriage, and even the birth of heirs.

And today was no different, a party was held, yet, in contrast to the past, this was not a political party. No bow-ties or high hats.

───

music blared loudly, some teens drinking, some making out, some… conceiving other actions, and yet, some still lay passed out, enamored to the oddly comforting ground.

however, the highlight of this party came from the upstairs infinite pool. inside sat teenagers tispy and intrigued. yet, around it lay half empty bottles of all types: hennesy, schnapps, bourbon, vodka, cognac, and a magnificent magnitude of other alcohols.

a simple game of truth or dare. “a simple ‘do or don’t’ game between underage drunk teenagers” you’d say, knowing damn well it was anything but.

due to the interference of Maki Zenin, four distinct rules were cultivated to make the game much more enticing.

in her words, “the game is really simple, however, the rules make it much more complex.”

RULE ONE: the order in which everyone sits is immutable, so if you want to change your seats, I advise you do it now.

nobody thought to move, leaving the oder of participants as so: Sukuna, You, [s.name], Megumi, Nobara, Toge, Pan (Panda), Yuuji, and finally, Maki.

RULE TWO: there is a limit on how many dares and truths, if two people choose dare, then the person after them has to choose truth. and vise versa for two truths.

RULE THREE: anyone can dare anyone, nothing is off the table. however, if you pass up the dare you have to take a shot, and if you pass up a truth, you have to take two shots.

RULE FOUR: if a dare involves you, you cannot declare if you want to pass it up or not, that’s the choice of the person being dared. but, if they do decide to pass it up, then the both of you have to take three shots.

now looking back on it, you scoffed at yourself for not thinking to switch your seat. you should’ve known your sister was going to… fuck you over.

but, you can’t go back in time, and everyone had already agreed, nodding happily.

“Alright let's play.”

the game started off simple, small dares and obvious truths. the group couldn’t be sure of what to make of each other’s boundaries. but, like everything else in the world, they were pushed to their limits.

you had answered two questions and done one dare: down a whole bottle of vodka in thirty seconds. you failed. but, now, a new round had started and Yuuji was the forerunner.

“Yuuji.” [s.name] called, her voice trailing over the water like a fresh coat of paint. “truth or dare?”

the boy in question cut his eyes to her, a tension setting between them. you knew [s.name] was forming some sort of plan, but you couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

after some hesitation— mainly Yuuji objecting the question and grumbling to himself about [s.name] owning him something— he answered, meekly. “truth.”

Nobara shot up at the inclination, taking it as an invitation to mess with her boyfriend, “is it true you lost your virginity to Megumi?”

quiet reigned over the group, even you, the quiet and stoic hothead, were rendered speechless.

Yuuji on the other hand however was sputtering, his voice coming out jumbled and without full attention. “I— n— Nobara! you—you’re dating M—Megumi! how would I’ve lost my vir—virginity to him?!”

“that’s not an answer, Yuuji-kun.” she responded, lapping at the blush slowly creeping upon the pink-haired blunders face.

“n—no!”

everyone laughed, watching as Yuuji tried to shake the blush crossing his features. his entire neck was a shade of light pink.

you couldn’t care less, ‘why would you want to loose your virginity to another guy?’ now of course you kept these thoughts to yourself, not wanting to upset anyone but you just didn’t understand why or even how two guys do the do.

despite these thoughts, you still found yourself wondering how it would feel— no. you don’t care, you told yourself.

tuning back into reality, you saw Maki blushing, pointing at Toge, who was looking stoic all the same. “Just answer the question.” he edged her.

“n—no! I hate [s.name]!”

it finally clicked, Maki had a crush on your sister. you inwardly grimaced at this, not wanting to even think how two girls… ‘I mean who does the actual fucking?’ you asked yourself

“anyways, Sukuna’s turn!” [s.name] yelled, her voice laced with a malignant grin.

you looked at Sukuna, your eyes traveling over his body before locking on his thighs. ‘if I were to fuck a guy, it’d definitely be— wait, what the hell am I saying? this is Sukuna. he wouldn’t want to do it.’

it took a few seconds, but soon your words registered within your own head ‘AND NEITHER WOULD I!’

but, now that you were thinking about it, Sukuna alway seemed to be staring at you. I mean, not like a normal stare but the type of stare that you give to someone you wanna fuck. and whenever you two are together for longer than five minutes, he starts getting nervous and blushing like a horny schoolgirl.

“alright Sukuna! that’s two truths, now you’ve got to choose a dare.” [s.name] screeched. you winced slightly, rubbing you ear to rid it of your sister’s annoyance. “does anyone have a dare for Sukuna?” not even a second later, [s.name] continued, “good.” you deadpanned.

“now, Sukuna, I dare you to— your sister looked directly at you, her expression matching that of a black cat, mysterious and low— “sit in [name]’s lap. and not just sit, you have to straddle him.”

Sukuna turned a bright shade of pink, his body stiffening against the cold tiles of the pool. you looked at your sister through narrow eyes, she knew you weren’t gay. she knew you didn’t like guys but still pulled this.

“I’ll just drink—“

“that’s not your choice. it’s [name]’s”

you looked down, avoiding not only Sukuna’s but also your sister and everyone else’s gazes. you didn’t want to have him on your lap but… you also didn’t wanna take three shots.

‘fuckfuckfuckfuck.’ you were stuck, not knowing if you should weird out your best friend by telling him to sit on your dick or tell him to just drink three shots like it was nothing.

Sukuna touched your bicep, but pulled his hand back when he felt your muscles contract. “uhm— you—we can just drink. it—it’s f—fine, really [name].”

this was the first time you’d heard Sukuna stutter, was it because of the situation or just because he wanted to sit in your lap?

“[n—name]?” you shook your head and brought your hands to Sukuna’s waist. as much as you didn’t want another guy straddling your dick, there was something in you that want to know why Sukuna was stuttering all of a sudden. and if it was because of you, then how would it change things?

Sukuna slid through the water, his skin glistening against the brightly-lit moon behind his house. you pulled him onto you, slightly rubbing against the tip of your semi-hard cock. why were you hard?! was it Sukuna?! NO. no, no, no, it was because you hadn’t masturbated in over a week. yeah, yeah that’s what it was. and— and Sukuna had a really nice ass— wait! no! that came out wrong.

Sukuna had placed his legs on the sides of your thighs, steadying the both of you. ‘calm down. calm down. it’s alright, it’s your fault that you hadn’t touched yourself and Sukuna really did have a nice ass, better than some of the girls you’d dated in the past.

He wrapped his hands around your neck, pulling himself closer to you, further rubbing his ass against your cock. by this point, there was no way he hadn’t noticed your half—full—boner. but, he didn’t react, he was really quiet actually. just a small blush going across his face.

you shifted, moving yourself so that your back could support the newfound weight. this time Sukuna reacted. quite vulgarly. a moan escaped him, the sound violently sending your body into a violent malfunction.

‘fuck. that was hot. scorching even.’ you felt your cock harden even more, the tip poking at Sukuna’s clothed backside. he squandered against you before meeting your eyeline.

you almost came on the spot.

his face was flushed beyond recognition. tears pooling in the corners of his cornea, panting softly; his tongue hung slightly out his mouth, and his pupils—in your vision— had hearts in them.

he was also hard. harder than you—if possible—

his tip was pressing against your abdomen, making him squeal and squirm every time you did as much as breathe. you gulped, shifting your lower body to left to see his reaction.

he fell against your chest, suppressing his moan with his fist— oh, what you wouldn’t give to hear it— some of your friends looked at the two of you with questioning looks, but after a shrug from you, they resumed the game.

you leaned to Sukuna’s ear, his breathing labored and ragged with pleasure. you didn’t know what you were doing, you just knew it felt good, almost like lust had completely taken you over.

“you’re such a slut.” you pulled, watching as his shaking multiplied by the dozen, and he began softly thrusting his hips against you. “oh? do you like it when I tell you how everyone sees you? like a shameless slut?” suddenly, a surge of confidence rushed through you. your thoughts were plagued with the same repetition: ‘I’m doing this. I’m the one making the bold and outrageous Sukuna feel like putty.’ truthfully, you didn’t know if this was the truth or just your ego.

speaking of him, he was panting harder, his hips scrambling against you. he was chasing an orgasm you didn’t intend to let him have. placing your hands on his waist, you stopped his movements, “do you really want everyone to see how desperate you are? see how easy it is to make you cum? Sukuna let out a quiet sob, his eyes rolling back at the taunt, or was it the idea of actually getting caught? something that you quickly voiced to him: “or is it that you wanna get caught? want everyone to see me fuck you senseless? hm, I’d expect nothing less outta a slut like you.”

“m—m’not a s—slut!” he barked back, barely above his panting. you cocked you head to the side and smirked at him

“then why are you so close to cumming without anyone touching you?” you cut your eyes around the pool, quickly catching the eyes of Sukuna’s younger twin, Yuuji Itadori and your thoughts instantly ran away from you ‘if he’s anything like his brother, he’d be a good fuck.’ you shook your head at this ‘naw, he’s definitely an innocent one, would let you do anything you wanted.’

“m’not gon’ c—cum!” Sukuna combatted, trying to bring your attention back to him.

the prolonged eye contact with Yuuji hadn’t ended yet, he was still starting at you with half-lidded eyes, clarifying his intentions with you. ‘another time. another time to take his innocence and make him as sinful as those eyes he making at me.’

you turned your attention away with a wink, bringing your free hand to Sukuna’s swin trunks. “oh you’re not? then— you gently grabbed his tip through the fabric, twitching your muscles to jerk her up and down a few times— what’s this?” you finished

Sukuna bucked into your hand, trying so hard to cum. “not here.” you brought your hand back to your side and locked eyes with the Itadori. “do you want them to see? huh S’kuna?”

like the confidence coursing through you, the nickname also came out of nowhere, shocking the both of you.

“d—d’care! I don’t c—care! just fuck me!”

you were tempted, definitely tempted, but you had something Sukuna didn’t. dignity. “not right now, S’kuna. now be a good boy and cum for me.”

the sudden raspy nature to your voice made Sukuna moan, harshly thrusting his hips against you. and within seconds he came, the white ropes being trapped in by his swimwear. “ngh! nngk! [name]!”

the moans fell on deaf ears as you looked back past him and to his twin, maintaining another long session of eye contact. he was immobilized by your gaze, not able to do anything until you broke it to look at your sister.

“your turn [name]! truth or dare!”

you looked back at Yuuji one last time, cascading your tongue along your lips.

“dare, of course.”

[myelocin]

of stars & skies | bokuto k.

Synopsis: Things sort of fall out of plan.

Genre: smut, fluff | WC: 1400+

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou

A/N: this is a commissioned piece by @hvnlydmn​

i love you more - son of cloud

commissions

If someone were to ask Bokuto Koutarou to summarize the things he feels about you, at best he’d answer with just a grin.

A grin, for now, because in the moment his thoughts are anything but coherent. He can faintly recall that it’s only sometime between four or five in the morning, and the both of you really should be asleep but that’s far from the case.

Still, it’s the feel of your fingers clawing at his thighs that make him grin. Head thrown back, groan hoarse and throat scratched, he parts his legs further apart.

It’s a nice sight, he thinks. 5ams and the dim light just barely starting to peek through from the blinds. Your hair, messy and sticking out in more places in one beneath him and the marks on his thighs in the exact shape of your fingernails painted red and angry. Bokuto knows by now that he really should be saying something before he busts a fucking nut right then and there, but you do the thing and swallow—again, and his head blanks.

You smirk; your jaw’s been aching for a while now, the skin on your knees not doing any better. When you inhale, you’re a little more careful than usual, trying to regain control.

Bokuto just arrived home from a game overseas a little over two hours ago, and you had planned for him to catch up on sleep before doing anything else—truly, but five steps through the door his tongue was shoved down your throat and his hands were behind you unclasping your bra and plans went to shit.

He groans again, hands tightening around your hair as he pushes his cock in deeper, profanities spilling from his lips. Beneath your fingers his thigh trembles, and when his grip relaxes, you take it as an opportunity to ease off of his cock, eyes locked on him.

He leans back, one elbow bent to support his weight as the other runs over the deep flush of his face at the sight of you. Bokuto had always been thick, and he’s always been more than aware of that, so it just does something to him to see you taking him whole despite looking so perfectly wrecked.

His cock twitches on your hand, and you smirk.

“Fucker,” he groans, eyes never leaving your form as you poke your tongue out and lean forward, swiping at the slick that’s gathered at the tip of his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” you hear him moan, the vibration of his voice doing its job in sending a shiver that shot through your body and right to your core.

And even though sex with Bokuto plays out like it’s some kind of routine, it’s little moments that differ from yesterday and today that makes things worth it. Much like him, you can never really get enough. The weight of his cock on your tongue is familiar, but the way his jaw tenses just a little different in today than last week’s makes your heart leap. Half lidded eyes that glimmer different every single time show you all the shades of the moon when it hangs like gold in the sky stare at you like you are the world itself, and even though your slick’s dripping down your thighs, all the feelings of love still beats in your chest.

Bokuto peers at you, words caught in his throat before he count think to say them, moans half groaned out, your name repeated like a prayer in pants.

He feels you swallow around his cock and he stills. By now he already knows that all it would probably take for him to cum was a couple more licks to his slit, and he should be focusing on that, but the dawn chooses the exact same moment to break through the sky.

Then it’s soft orange and pale yellow, filtered through the blinds. Spilling on the floor, climbing up the walls, and illuminating your eyes that stare at him.

You recognize the look too, and the timing of your lover’s sentimentality should be comedic if anything, but when his shoulders soften and you feel him pull you up and away from him, seating you on his lap, your brain blanks.

Love, like a wordless exchange in the mornings, because even if the dawn has broken through the black of the sky, you choose to let the silence linger just for a little while longer. Bokuto holds you by the waist, lifting you up and over his cock before he eases himself in with a low groan. Eyes locked towards you, from your end you see the colors of the stars while he’s awestruck, gazing at the sky.

He’s panting, and you’re shaking—a newfound presence that’s always blended itself in the atmosphere of the room even when you’re fucking enveloping the two of you like a warm blanket on a cold day.

“I love you,” he says, the truth in his words finally breaking past its earlier barriers.

“I love you, I love you, I fucking love you,” Bokuto whispers, the tone of his voice half a moan and a confession, bottom lip in between his teeth as he thrusts up, and pulls your waist down to meet him halfway simultaneously.

And you feel it.

The kind of love that’s always found you ever since you met him.  

Because love—the kind that’s raw and real and present, flows better through feelings instead of words. Though when he thinks of it, he had never been exactly the type to have been much for words, so he supposes the sentiment remains.

He likes to think that love—his sort of love—has a habit of being uncovered in the mornings. Mornings like 5ams right before the dawn breaks and the world stirs. The frost from last night’s chilly air still on the windowpanes and the sun just barely waking. A world that thrives in progress and motion, the days starting with the intention to be lived before it ends. The forgiving kind of sun during sunrise, because it feels more warm than scathing on his skin.

Bokuto likes to memorize everything about you under a light like this.

He knows he’ll see all the shades of blue when you open your eyes, but for now it’s the hue of the skin on your eyelids and blush of your cheeks that he sees. Bokuto chokes out another confession that reaches you, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of your waist, his breaths labored and roughed, perfectly matching yours.  

Another inbetween makes itself known, coming as the thought that mornings have always been your sort of thing. It’s always been funny how little epiphanies of just how in love he is with you choose to unravel in moments like these, but it fits.

The sound of your voice—his name on your lips, moaned, and huffed out in short breaths fits. If you lean forward and press your chest against his, which he knows you only do when you’re getting close and wanting to bury your face somewhere—fits.

(Like a puzzle piece that clicks in place, it fits.)

Love fits, and nestles in the cracks and corners of his life, and he’s only felt fulfillment since.

You feel his hips stutter, his grip tightening even more before he slams you to him once, twice, as he buries himself to the hilt and cums.

Bokuto feels you shaking, in a way he knows is good against him, so he laughs. And he’s quiet with his words as he sounds out the vowels of your name. Hands, gentle in the way it holds you—cradles you to him, because love is like that too.

As much as it bursts and makes him feel like he’s racing through a highway, blind and breathless, and euphoric—it’s also just holding you close to him at daybreak. You allow the silence to resettle, your hands reaching forward to cup his face as you open your eyes and look at the colors of the stars again, and Bokuto’s smiling.

(You are too.)

He sniffles, as do you.

Love hangs like the vines of a plant that resurfaces into the earth again and again despite the rough hands that time never ceases to bring.

“Hey,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against his, the smell of home and him a familiar one to you.

(I love you.)

And he knows you mean to say that, so he closes your eyes and leans in to your touch, because he’s safe, and here, and home.

(The way his thumbs rub circles on the skin of your waist tells you that he means to say I love you too.)

[magdaclaire]

to forgive is not to forget and sometimes you cannot do either

read on ao3

Oh no, oh no. There’s only like five ways that this conversation is going to go, and if someone raises a fucking pinky finger to his Tony, Rhodey is going to lose it. He’s going to completely lose it. 

When the good Captain starts raising his voice, Rhodey starts rising out of his seat, completely out of his control. He’s sat down again, however, by the fact that Tony grabs his wrist, pulling him back down to the Earth in more ways than one. Instead of letting him fly off the handle, Tony laces their fingers calmly, keeping both himself and Rhodey hemmed in off of the edges of anger and disparity as to not lose their collective minds in the middle of this mixed company. Instead of losing it, Rhodey zones out for a minute, checking his recently painted nails (peach, because Riri had picked it out and decided it looked great for their skin tone) and looking occasionally at his phone. 

That is, until Steve Rogers stands his happy ass up. 

“Captain,” Rhodey interrupts, crisp and clear and still polite despite the beginning of his sentence interrupting the middle of the Captain’s. Rogers looks at him with raised brows, though he gives the natural submission of an officer so clearly outranked; Colonel James Rhodes had at least earned his colonelcy, come to think. 

“Yes, Colonel?” Rogers asks, looking at Tony and Rhodey’s linked hands before moving back to the Colonel’s face. Rhodey will remember that. 

“You no longer preside over the Avengers Initiative in any fashion. Captain Danvers is the new Captain of the Avengers, and I have the military authority liaison position. What actions you perceive as right and wrong, whether this is an official meeting or not, are no longer relevant. Keep them to yourself,” Rhodey instructs, level toned and frustrated, to which Rogers’s face screws into an expression of displeasure. Rhodey holds his gaze. 

“I’m not the leader anymore so I don’t get to have an opinion?” Rogers asks, high and offended, but Rhodey doesn’t roll his eyes, which he thinks someone should be proud of. Tony squeezes his hand, but still Rhodey continues. 

“Was anyone allowed an opinion during your tenure as leader?” Rhodey asks rhetorically. Tony’s hand slips out of his, grabbing onto his arm with more tenacity, more strength. Rhodey ignores it. “I don’t think it much matters what you think anyway. Your probationary period has not reached its end, and thus your vote isn’t one that needs to be taken into consideration. Your presence in these meetings is a privilege and can be revoked, should I or Captain Danvers choose to revoke it. Don’t tempt me, Captain Rogers.” 

“Well, then why don’t you revoke it, Colonel? You seem to be damn well tempted enough,” Rogers shoots back, temper tested as he rises completely to his feet, Barnes looking alarmed and yet cowed next to him. By Rhodey’s guess, he doesn’t want to be here at all. His attention is pulled away by Tony’s hand on his arm once again. 

“I think we need a moment’s recess, if we could have it. I think it would be good for everyone. Captain Danvers?” Tony suggests, looking desperately between Carol and his usual corralling partner, Agent Sharon Carter. They both nod, though Captain Danvers is the one to reply aloud. 

“I was about to suggest the same thing. How about we take twenty minutes, agents? Come back at 1400, and come back without the chips on shoulders, if you don’t mind?” Carol clips with her eyebrow raised, not a suggestion at all. Rogers purses his lips but gives her a tight nod, taking the south exit with his half of the team in tow. Tony, who has always reminded him of a Chihuahua when he’s upset with him, is nearly vibrating when he drags Rhodey into an empty office, shoving Rhodey into a chair. Rhodey crosses his arms and waits for the fire to start, because if he gets the first word in, this is not going to go well. 

“What the fuck was that, Rhodes?” Tony asks, 

“Rogers is a bag of fucking microaggressions in a freedom suit and I’m not gonna deal with it - he disrespects you and argues with you whenever you open your mouth and puts you down and undercuts your arguments, and it’s counterproductive!” Rhodey argues, the steam nearly coming out of his ears, and he isn’t angry at Tony, he shouldn’t be expressing it at Tony, but Tony won’t let him throw shit at Steve Rogers for some reason, so this is what he’s got. Tony crosses his arms and leans against the wall opposite him. 

“I can deal with Steve Rogers. What I can’t deal with is my best friend ruining the groundwork that I’ve put down for pardoning and forgiving Steve Rogers and his merry band so that we can get them back into the fold. That’s what I can’t deal with,” Tony says, but there’s one thing that Rhodey has to stick on, because what.

“He doesn’t deserve your fucking forgiveness, Tony!” he insists, uncrossing his arms to scrub his hands across his skull. Maybe he’s overprotective of Tony, and maybe that comes from a couple of decades of being in love with him and not doing a fucking thing about it, but maybe that’s no one’s goddamn business either. That doesn’t mean Steve Rogers deserves to be forgiven for lying to him and trying to kill him either. Like Tony hasn’t been lied to for his entire life. Like most of the people Tony has trusted his entire life haven’t betrayed him. But he looks up and Tony looks stricken and he’s getting closer and Rhodey isn’t expecting - Tony sputters. 

“But you forgave me!” 

Silence settles. Rhodey racks his mind for whatever the fuck Tony means, tries to do whatever mental math that Tony’s guilt complex has conjured, but he can’t come up with whatever Tony thinks he did. Whatever he thinks Rhodey forgave him for. So he asks. 

“Forgave you for what, Tones?” Tony crumbles. 

“I didn’t catch you. The suit didn’t catch you. Nothing I did, everything I did failed, I should have been able to - platypus I failed you. And you acted like it was nothing. You just came right back to me and acted like we were fine, and you’re still my best friend and you still love me and everything is fine and you’re not gonna leave me,” he rambles, falling to his knees between Rhodey’s own, and Rhodey just wants to hold him. So he does. He gathers Tony into the well of his chest and holds him against himself and just lets him cry for a minute because that’s what he needs. 

“Tony, none of that was your fault. It’s not your fault. I’m never gonna leave. We’ve been together for decades, Tony Stark. I’m yours, and you’re mine, in every way that matters. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing to forgive,” he promises, stroking Tony’s hair. Tony’s sobs subside eventually, and the tears dry too. 

Carol doesn’t come get them. 

“I think we might be doing this wrong, you know,” Tony says eventually, when they’ve been sitting like this way too long for his knees to still be in good condition. Rhodey hums a questioning hum. “I’ve been halfway in love with you since I was fifteen years old.” 

Rhodey chokes on clean air, and then he’s coughing, and Tony has to get off of his chest, killing their intimacy. But, Rhodey has the idea that they’re just getting started on that side of things. 

“I was twenty-two. Coming home from my first tour. When I figured it out about you. Too scared of DADT to do anything I guess, or maybe that was a good excuse, was too scared of you not wanting me back too. But I knew I loved you. Always knew,” he says, not quite looking at Tony, because even though Tony’s already said it, he has near thirty year old fear in the back of his mind making his teeth ache. Tony catches him by the jaw. 

“I love you,” Tony says, a confession and a benediction and a completion. Rhodey breathes, and his chest feels clear. 

“I love you too,” and it feels like forgiveness. 

[crimson-snowfall]

Like You Better Like This

Theo Route Announcement Celebratory Fic

Word Count: 1400

Pairings: Theo x Arthur (Theocona)

Genre: NSFW ModernAU (Detective!Theo x Vigilante!Arthur)

Warnings: BL, gunplay, blowjob. Please note that this fic focuses on a suitor x suitor pairing, and this is your friendly reminder that warnings exist for a reason and that you are responsible for the content you choose to consume.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts in wait for Theo’s route announcement for quite some time now, and I haven’t written BL smut for like 2 or 3 years now and this is my first attempt on a modern AU... so yeah, I hope it just turned out okay at least?

The investigation department broke out in mayhem as reports of the sabotage of two privately-owned armored trucks came in-- this would make it the third incident within a span of a month. Theo kicked under his desk, burying his face into his palms as he mentally cursed the perpetrator that he unfortunately knew all too well, but couldn't do anything about.

That's why he'd chosen not to get involved in these cases, and as a result, since most of his colleagues were more interested and invested in the recent sabotage cases, Theo had been working overtime for weeks now on the regular cases that no one else was interested in.

"That klootzak is so dead to me," the detective grumbled under his breath as he sorted through the pile of cases stacked on his desk, the thought of the long work weeks ahead of him already wearing him out.

It was already past midnight when Theo trudged into his apartment unit-- which, under normal circumstances, he should be the lone occupant of, but the television noises coming from the living room made it evident that he wasn't alone that night. Considering the recent turn of events and the fact that his beloved brother would never be so rude as to enter his unit uninvited, Theo didn't hesitate in throwing his briefcase over the couch he just knew this uninvited guest was lounging at, and hearing the ensuing yelp of pain made him wish he had another suitcase he could hurl at the man who'd peeked at him from couch.

"Long day at work?" Arthur asked whilst soothing the side of his head where Theo's briefcase had hit him.

"You're really asking me?" Theo's sharp retort cut through the living room, but as always, it didn't have the intended effect on the other man.

Arthur approached Theo with a mischievous grin, and although the latter had been scowling so hard at the former that his brows were practically touching, he made no effort to stop the other man from taking off his coat.

"I brought some pudding. It's on the fridge," Arthur casually revealed as he made his way to hang Theo's coat on the coat rack. The detective obviously didn't appreciate the change of topic, but he was starving at the same time. He opened the fridge and saw that one compartment was filled with what may be a couple of week's worth of his favorite pudding and other desserts.

"I've told you countless times that I can buy these on my own," Theo grumbled as he dug in on a blueberry pudding.

"You're welcome, my dear Theo. I see that you like your compensation as always?" The comment earned Arthur a cold, hard glare from Theo, one that he met with his own unwavering convictions.

Their history goes all the way back to their high school days, and ever since then, they have been inseparable as they even ended up pursuing the same career. Somewhere along the way though, Arthur had become severely disillusioned with the 'flawed, inefficient  justice system that actually bred more social inequality,' and after years of failed attempts to convict those who had cheated society but had the wealth to evade punishment for their crimes, Arthur finally quit the job.

Nowadays, he masquerades as a forensic biologist while he's actually involved with the top brass of one of the largest vigilante groups that target those who had risen into wealth and power through illegal means.

"You were the one who behind this operation, weren't you?" Theo firmly inquired, cup of pudding neglected on his hands as his glare bore holes into Arthur. 

"What gives?" Arthur asked in amusement as he snatched the half-eaten pudding away from the grumpy detective.

"That man was on the last case you were on before you left, and I know you've had your sights set on him since then. Also, that's my pudding," Theo tried to retrieve his dessert, but the ex-detective had other plans. Taking in a spoonful of the pudding, Arthur swiftly closed the distance between them, capturing Theo's lips with his own, parting them with his tongue and feeding him the pudding in his mouth.

"What are you talking about, Theo? I've never had my eyes set on anyone else but you," Arthur's eyes shimmered with need and longing; their conflicting situations had put a strain on their pre-existing relationship to the extent that they could only meet like this every once in a while.

"Quit it, Arthur. You know what I'm talking about."

Arthur snorted derisively. "Then are you mad at me?"

"All I know is that you're better than this."

"So do I, Theo. That's why it's a wonder how you could put up with that sorry excuse for a--"

"Like I said, it's not up to you or anyone to do these kinds of things!" Theo roared in aggravation, leaving Arthur speechless for a moment. After a while, he quipped back with a cocky smile,

"...You say that, my dear Theo, but then, isn't it up to people like you to capture and turn in people like me who take matters into their hands?"

"Seriously, why are you-"

"I wonder why, oh dear detective," Arthur's hands began to wander all over Theo, finding their way to undo his tie, "...if you hate what I'm doing so much, then why don't you--"

And just as when Arthur was about to bind Theo's wrists with his tie, Theo had pinned him down on the couch and rammed the barrel of his pistol into his mouth.

"Shut up," Theo sternly warned, his own eyes burning with a pent-up medley of desire and frustration. He's been feeling conflicted enough as it is, and the last thing he needed was Arthur rubbing it on his face that the reason why he's feeling as such is that because they're madly in love with each other.

The novel look of shock on Arthur's expression only lasted for several seconds, though Theo had already committed it to his memory. He didn't exactly dislike the perverted, masochistic glint in those eyes that were only a few hues brighter than his own. Rather, he actually found it an alluring sight to behold, watching it spiral from eagerness to desperation as the night goes deeper.

With one hand keeping the pistol's barrel in Arthur's mouth, Theo proceeded to grind their clothed erections against each other.

"Keep your mouth shut, and I'll show you exactly the answer you're looking for," Theo's voice rasped as he built-up the pleasure between them, and Arthur purred in approval.

Slowly, the buttons on Arthur's shirt came undone in the wake of Theo's feverish exploration, and the former bit down on the barrel in his mouth as the latter flicked his hardened nipples.

"What a manwhore," Theo taunted him as he hastily freed his own erection, retrieving and tossing the pistol aside in favor of shoving his cock inside the other man's mouth.

They held each other's heated gazes as they partook in their debauched, mutual pleasure. Theo held no reservations as he vigorously rammed his cock into that familiar warmth of Arthur's mouth, and as he always does, Arthur skillfully massaged his tongue over the bulging veins of Theo's thick, hard length.

"Yes, that's right, you damned klootzak," Theo hissed as he firmly gripped on Arthur's hair, "I like you the best when you can't run this filthy mouth of yours because it's filled with my cock, did you know that?"

In response, Arthur swallowed the entire length of Theo's cock-- or at least, he had made the attempt to do so given that it was physically impossible due to its impressive size. He didn't really have to wait that long either before his mouth was overflowing with Theo's rich, warm essence as he felt the fierce throbbing of the cock in his mouth, and Arthur made sure not to waste not even a single drop as he licked every inch of it clean on its way out of his mouth.

"What now, Theo? There's nothing keeping me from running my mouth now," Arthur taunted with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Then I'll just have to make sure to keep you occupied until I can kick you out in the morning, right?"

True to his words, Theo had kept Arthur thoroughly occupied all night long until dawn.

I don’t know who wants to hear this but I always feed Ikevamp KR Theo with the blueberry pudding because he always seems to like it. So yea fun fact KR Theo likes blueberry pudding.

[minmotl]

Chapter 59: Sui Zhou Forbids Tang Fan From Hiding More Money

Context: 洛水古棺案 The Luo Shui Ancient Coffin Case - This happens after Tang Fan’s promotion and is his first major case after he successfully deals with people who don’t like him at his new job. The case happens at a riverside city called Bei Song (Northern Song). To the North of the city it faces Luo Shui (Luo River), and further up they will see the Yellow River. The town is built near the tomb of the Song Emperor, and while the town and tomb have to frequently deal with tomb raiders, everything is still pretty manageable and peaceful.

Recently, however, things have taken a turn for the stranger, and the courts have put Sui Zhou and Tang Fan on the case.

Before they embark on their next case together, however, some things have to first be ironed out, for example, the royalties from writing that Tang Fan gets but secretly hides from Sui Zhou.

Seeing how his ears are drooping downwards, Sui zhenfushi compassionately caresses at his friend’s head as if he would a dog, “I am not after your money. I just want to help you keep it. Who asked you to be so happy when you see books? We almost cannot stack them up anymore, you have to control yourself.”

Introduction Post | Masterpost

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Highlights under the cut

Since a year ago, every day when it hits midnight, the civilians living nearby would hear some strange noises coming from Yong Hou Tomb and Yong Shao Tomb. At first, they thought it was the sound of the wind, but listening to it closely, they realised that those were crying sounds.

Yong Hou Tomb is where Song Ying Emperor Zhao Shu rests, and Yong Shao where Zong Ren Emperor Zhao Zhen rests.

Zhao Shu was Zhao Zhen’s successor, but he was not Zhao Zhen’s biological son, because all of Zhao Zhen’s sons died then, which left him with no choice but to take on Zhao Shu, who was from the royal family, as a charge.

These are not important, however. The question is, in the middle of the night, why would there be crying sounds from the royal tombs?

It has been so many years since the emperors from Song dynasty passed away and there are no longer any filial children or virtuous grandchildren. And even if there were, who would choose to cry for these lost souls in the middle of the night?

This is really strange.

The civilians in nearby villages have the responsibility of guarding and watching the tombs, and so after hearing the cries for a few consecutive nights, a few villagers went ahead to Yong Hou Tomb to investigate.

In the end, the people who went, never came back again.

It was only then that the village chief realised something was amiss - he urged other villagers to head forth to locate the missing people on one hand, and on the other, reported this to the Gong County Magistrate Court. Officials sent some men over and also searched thoroughly, but did not manage to find the people who disappeared. The royal tombs are built right next to the Luo River, and officials guessed that these people could have accidentally fallen into the river when they returned in the night.

With this conclusion, the case was wrapped up as well.

After that for a long time, the cries were never heard again. The village seemed to have its peace restored. Aside from those villagers who lost their loved ones, everyone slowly forgot about this incident.

But just half a year ago, those chilling wails emerged again and were louder than before, seemingly accompanied by the roar of thunder. The village chief did not dare to be careless about this and anxiously reported this to the courts again. The Gong County Magistrate thought that the village chief was making a fuss over something small, coming off the previous incident, and so did not think much of this. However, because the royal tombs are located there, he still got some of his officers to bring some men to the village and investigate.

This time, they found three tomb raiding holes near both the tombs of Yong Hou and Yong Shao. It seemed that tomb raiders had their eyes on these two emperors’ resting places, and came for a visit. Regarding the royal tomb being stolen from, the magistrate did not dare to be careless either. And so, he ordered the officers and also six of the strongest and younger men from the village to stake out the royal tombs nearby, hoping to catch the tomb raiders.

Everything was quiet in the surroundings of the royal tombs as the first day passed. The moonlight was like water, and next to them, aside from the sound of the Luo River water flowing, nothing else was heard. Everything was peaceful. The same happened on the second day.

And on the third day, crisis struck.

Three officers, six villagers and the village chief, when they went, they were 10 people in total.

At the end, only two returned.

One of them was an officer, and the other was the village chief.

The first went mad, and the second turned dumb.

The one who went mad was the officer. The village chief and he ran back from nearby the royal tombs, one after the other, and he was incoherent. Whoever he saw, he would try to hit, not to mention saying anything while being in a clear state of mind. The village chief’s expression was filled with horror, and his body drenched in fresh blood. His state of mind was almost that of the officer’s.

After the prognosis of the physician, he concluded that the officer has probably been frightened to the point of insanity. He would probably like this for the rest of his life as there is no cure for it. Although the village chief is old and of dwindling strength, he did experience more things in life and instead, was more resilient than the young officer. After a period of rest, his mental state slowly improved.

However, whenever the happenings of that night were mentioned, the village chief could not be more silent and reluctant to say anything more. It was not until the magistrate himself came over to question him that the man began repeatedly chanting ‘it’s a ghost’ and ‘there’s a monster’ - words related to that. No matter how much they asked, they could not get anything substantive out of him.

The magistrate was out of ideas but also felt that this situation was strange, and so had no choice but to get the investigation reported to higher authorities until it reached Jing city.

“Ghost? Monster?”

In their small courtyard, Tang Fan considers both words and asks, “Could it be the tomb raiders pretending to be ghosts?”

Sui Zhou shakes his head, “I’ve also only just gotten this case. It’s very difficult to ascertain the accuracy of the magistrate’s report just by his words, we will have to head down there personally to make judgement. This happened in the jurisdiction of Henan, and I suspect it will be handed to the Department of Justice for an investigation, and then after that, it’ll also land on the head of the Henan’s Qing Li Si.

Tang Fan laughs bitterly, “That seems like a definite possibility.”

He stretches lazily, “Might as well. Anyway, I naturally have fidgety bones and cannot bear to be so leisurely. I’ve gotten tired of sitting in the courts, and if given the chance, I’d rather go out for a walk!”

Sui Zhou says in a low voice, “I also plan to go personally.”

Tang Fan is flattered, “It cannot be, Sui zhenfushi would like to fight by my side? This is truly this lowly official’s honour!”

Although Sui Zhou is officially only a qianhu, he has become the boss of the Northern Administrative Court in reality. Any higher up than him would be Yuan Bin, so between officials, everyone is already used to calling him “Sui zhenfushi”.

Of course, hearing Tang Fan call him that, the title sounds a little more like (light teasing) mockery than anything else.

Sui Zhou leans into the chair, and taking the cup of buckwheat tea from Ah Dong, he says lightly, “Fighting side by side, maybe not so much. Since I am the zhenfushi, I naturally have to handle all matters. For a small Rank Five official like you, you’ll have to listen to my commands then too.”

Of course, these words are coloured with mirth, as he says it like a joke.

Tang Fan laughs, “Then I’ll have to fight for that with you. You’re a Rank Five army official, and I’m a Rank Five civil official. Since the Ming dynasty came into being, it is always civil officials commanding army officials. If we follow the principle of a Rank Five civil official being allowed to command a Rank Four army official, even if your big boss Yuan came, I’m afraid he would still have to listen to my orders. Otherwise, for someone who as physically unfit as me, what will I do if I go? I can’t possibly head up personally to catch the criminals myself, right?”

He winks at Ah Dong, “Isn’t that right, sister?”

Ah Dong nods, “Yes.”

Tang Fan puts up his leg and proudly says to Sui Zhou, “It’s really good to have a sister, see how considerate my Ah Dong is!”

Ah Dong goes, “I’m saying that Sui-dage is right.”

Tang Fan is dissatisfied, “Why do you always favour the outsider?!”

“Of course I have to side with the outsider. Da-ge, all your money is now in Sui-dage’s hands. Without him, we’d both be homeless!!” she laughs.

Tang Fan retorts, “What do you mean by all?! I only gave him half, don’t I still give you grocery cash every month?!”

Sui Zhou then asks, “So tell us how much money you have on hand right now?”

With both of them staring at him with their four eyes, Tang Fan stammers, “A man’s savings is a secret, you can’t just ask like that!”

Ah Dong then asks Sui Zhou, “Sui-dage, how much money do you have?”

Sui Zhou doesn’t say that she cannot ask, and very honestly says, “I helped him to save 30 taels last year, and then together with the 350 taels he gave me previously, that’s 380 taels. I also have some savings from before, and together it totals up to 1400 taels.”

Ah Dong gaps, “Sui-dage you’re so rich!”

Tang Fan huffs twice in awkward laughter, “The weather is really great today! That dumpling dish has been left alone for too long and it’s waiting for us to eat then. How low class is it to speak about money, our mouths full of the stench of copper!”

Ah Dong covers her mouth as she laughs, “You hid your writing royalties under your pillows and did not submit it. And here I was wondering how long you’d hide it for, but in a flash, you went to buy another stack of useless novels!”

Tang Fan, embarrassed, says, “What do you mean useless books! That is Spring and Autumn, a Song dynasty publication that people can’t buy even if they have money. I only got it after looking out for the book of so long!”

Ah Dong blinks, “Well, there’s another one called The Legend of Chun Chao.”

Sui Zhou frowns, “Why does that name sound a little strange?”

“That’s a proper book on demons, don’t think so much!” he says, guilty.

If he didn’t say anything, that would still be okay, but the more he explains, the stranger it sounds.

“Give it to me so I can have a look later,” Sui Zhou says.

Ah Dong sticks out her tongue at Tang Fan, “I want to see it too!”

Tang-daren feels immense pain, “You took the manuscript for Aspirations of War previously and you haven’t returned it to me yet!”

Although Tang-daren does spend his free time writing fiction books as a way to pass the time and also to get some writing royalties as well, to say that all he writes is erotica fiction, this is truly an injustice to him. Take Aspirations of War for example, he reflected the history of the years of war during the Eastern Zhou period, but because the content is complex, he often does not have time to write it. Only now does he have two-thirds of it finished.

Innocently, Sui Zhou says, “I’m not done reading it yet, I’ll return it to you when I’m done.”

“And when will you finish it?”

“When you promise not to secretly hide your royalties,” Sui Zhou answers.

Tang-daren is so angry right now that he feels like he is capable of doing anything, as he expresses his objections and dissatisfaction at these unfair standards.

“Well you didn’t give me the money either!”

“But I don’t have a habit of spending money unnecessarily,” Sui Zhou’s explanation ends the argument.

“…”

His pride slides to the ground and shatters.

He’s rising up in the ranks as an official, but when he comes home, his status gets increasingly lower! Let him live!

He wants to run away from home…

Seeing how his ears are drooping downwards, Sui zhenfushi compassionately caresses at his friend’s head as if he would a dog, “I am not after your money. I just want to help you keep it. Who asked you to be so happy when you see books? We almost cannot stack them up anymore, you have to control yourself.”

Tang-daren’s face is filled with tears.

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Notes:

*胳膊往外拐 ge bo wang wai guai

Literally means using your elbow to reach out and hook onto someone else - As a metaphor it means to side with outsiders instead of your closest friends or family.

*满嘴铜臭味 man zui tong chou wei

Literally means for one’s mouth to smell like the rotten stench of copper - as a metaphor it means that it is not good practice or manners to speak about money the way they are talking to each other.

*春潮记 chun chao ji

Sui Zhou is so scandalized when Ah Dong mentions this book - The Legend of Chun Chao, and that’s because when you break the characters down: Spring (chun), tide (chao) and legend/records (ji)

chun also can mean youth or a time of canoodling of sorts

chao can also have a sexual connotation, i.e. to climax

And that’s why he is like “that sounds strange” when Ah Dong reads the title out, and this book is in fact an old story about demons, but the more Tang Fan denies it, the more guilty he sounds basically.

[queenofmoons67]

If you're still taking in prompts, I saw this and immediately thought of Nie bros:"The Rough Character Holding The Injured Soft Character Gently And Breaking Down Over Them"\

number one way to trick me into writing almost 1400 words is, apparently, to ask for NMJ caring for NHS. i hope you like it!

Nie Mingjue crouched low on his saber, eyes squinting against the wind as it whipped past him. The sound of the wind covered everything else, from the calls of the Nie cultivators slowly falling behind his breakneck pace, to any screams that might be echoing on the horizon.

But no matter how painful keeping his eyes open became, he kept them open. He couldn’t crash. Couldn’t lose any more time. And, perhaps most importantly—if the Wens had set fire to the Unclean Realm, as they had to Lotus Pier and the Cloud Recesses, the sight of smoke on the horizon would be his first clue.

As Nie Mingjue got close enough to see his home peaking over the treetops, though, the churning in his gut that had pushed him so far became more frantic.

They had received word early that morning that a small force of Wens had been spotted heading toward the Unclean Realm. Unsure what their purpose was, but positive that this was Wen Ruohan’s response to Nie Mingjue killing Wen Xu, Nie Mingjue had gathered his fastest cultivators and set out immediately.

After Nie Mingjue had killed Wen Xu, the Wens had retreated far enough that the Unclean Realm was guarded only by Nie Huaisang and a thin force of cultivators. There wasn’t supposed to be any Wens between the Nie frontline and the Unclean Realm. But then there had been the missive. And yet...

Squinting even more against the harsh wind, Nie Mingjue struggled to make out more details. Everything seemed fine. There were no hints of burning, or invasion, or—

Nie Mingjue’s eyes narrowed on a small figure taking off from the courtyard and bolting in his direction.

It only took a minute more for them to meet, and Nie Mingjue, knowing they were both moving too fast for him to reach out and grab the man, instead snapped a loud, “Follow me!”

The figure staggered in midair, but did as he said. Nie Mingjue glanced at him, and cursed silently when he realized it was the fastest cultivator he had left with Nie Huaisang.

The instant they landed, Nie Mingjue whirled on the man.

“What—”

“Please follow me, Zongzhu!” the cultivator cried, already moving towards the entrance. “Nie-er-gongzi has been attacked!”

Nie Mingjue stumbled, but quickly recovered and ran after the cultivator. A-Sang had been attacked. Not the Unclean Realm, but A-Sang, and Nie Mingjue hated how much that made sense, and he hated that he hadn’t seen it coming, and that he hadn’t seen fit to fortify his brother’s personal guard more than he already had.

An eye for an eye was exactly the kind of punishment that Wen Ruohan would find suitable. With Nie Mingjue lacking a son, of course the man had targeted his little brother instead. Nie Mingjue had been blind in his certainty that the Unclean Realm couldn’t be breached, and now it might cost him the only family he had left.

Ahead of Nie Mingjue, the cultivator skidded to a stop at the door to A-Sang’s rooms. Nie Mingjue didn’t bother doing the same: He threw the door wide open and barged in, mouth already open and ready to demand to know what was happening, only for him to halt at the sight of the room.

The first thing that caught his eye was the blood. It had splattered all over the walls and floor, mixing its bright red with the paints that A-Sang had had out. There were more than a few fans and paintings that Nie Mingjue already knew would have to be thrown out; there was no saving them.

The second thing Nie Mingjue noticed was the ring of doctors surrounding a body lying, unconscious, on the floor. It was cloaked in Nie robes and still clutching a fan, despite the arrows in his side and shoulder. Nie Mingjue’s mind shuddered as he took in the sight, but he didn’t allow himself to cry. He couldn’t, not when there was so much to do.

Nie Mingjue pushed his way through the doctors and squatted by his brother’s head. He palmed his cheek once—reassuring A-Sang that da-ge was there. Reassuring himself that A-Sang, no matter how pale his face was or how blood-matted his hair was, was still alive and fighting.

And then Nie Mingjue stood, and he walked away. He didn’t let himself look back.

The doctors would do their job. It was time Nie Mingjue did his.

<line break>

Nie Mingjue spent the next several hours directing his people to and fro. A half-dozen cultivators were stationed in A-Sang’s rooms, and a half-dozen more were stationed at its doors and windows. The Unclean Realm as a whole had to be swept from to bottom, to ensure the assassins hadn’t decided to hide instead of running, even while Nie Mingjue sent cultivators out to search the surrounding area in the case that the assassins had run instead of hiding. He told the kitchens to make the most hearty meals an injured person could stomach, dictated messages to the other sects and his own frontline, and then sent those messages out.

And then, just when Nie Mingjue started to flag enough that thoughts of A-Sang began to sink in again, the doctors filed into his office and told him that A-Sang had been moved to his bed. He would live.

<line break>

Nie Mingjue reached A-Sang’s rooms as fast as he could. Entering, he reminded himself that he would have to have servants come in and clean soon; it wouldn’t do for A-Sang to find his living space covered in blood. His brother was in the bedroom, though, which hadn’t been affected. The other room could stay for now.

Nie Mingjue nodded to the cultivators guarding his brother, but didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. They filed out of the bedroom, and when he closed the door behind them, he and his brother were left alone and Nie Mingjue could finally allow himself to feel.

He padded over to the bed, noted the bandages around A-Sang’s torso, and decided that the head was probably the best place for him to sit. He just sat on the edge at first, looking down at his brother—and then he brought his legs up, crossed them, and gently eased his brother’s head onto his lap.

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue murmured, bending over him. “A-Sang, I’m here. Da-ge’s here.”

There was no response. A-Sang’s eyes were closed, his cheeks still pale, though his features had relaxed and Nie Mingjue assumed the doctors gave him medicine for the pain. But his brother didn’t wake. His fingers didn’t even twitch.

“I’m sorry, A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue whispered, breathing through the knot in his throat and the cold settling in his head and stomach. “I never should have left you alone.”

Nie Mingjue cupped his little brother’s cheek and smoothed his thumb over it. With his other hand, he gathered A-Sang’s hair, absently noting that someone had tried to wash the blood out. They had done a decent job, but A-Sang’s hair was even more knotted now.

Slowly, Nie Mingjue sectioned his brother’s hair and started combing it, easing his fingers through the strands.

<line break>

Nie Mingjue stirred at the sound of moaning. He had apparently slumped forward at some point, falling asleep right where he sat while he combed A-Sang’s hair.

“Da-ge,” a familiar voice whimpered, and Nie Mingjue jolted, blinking rapidly to focus on the sight below him. A-Sang’s eyes were filing with tears, already red and crinkled, but they were open.

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue gasped. He rubbed his thumb against his brother’s cheek, wiping away a tear, and then twisted and yelled, “Fetch a doctor! Nie Huaisang is awake!”

There was a clatter from the other room, but Nie Mingjue paid it no mind and turned back to his brother. He squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Never again,” he said. “I’m doubling your guard. Permanently.”

A-Sang giggled, but then moaned in pain and clutched at his side. Wincing, Nie Mingjue reached out and took his hand in his own.

“Don’t laugh right now,” he said. “You had several arrows in you; you’ll be sore for awhile.”

And A-Sang smiled, though his face was still twisted in pain, and whispered, “Yes, Da-ge.”

Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters!

[dnarez]

Chapter 14 - Sports Festival Part 4

"ALL RIGHT, HAVE YOU ALL FORMED YOUR LITTLE TEAMS!!? WELL, YOU BETTER HAVE!!" Mic was screaming like always "LET'S DO IT!! LET'S STAR THE COUNTDOWN TO THIS VICIOUS CLASH!!"

"We can do it guys! I need all of you to trust me when it comes to escaping, try to focus each one on each side" Y/n toke a deep breath and closed her eyes felling each person and their position, she adjusted the headband to her eyes. "I can do this"

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(On the other side of the city)

Hawks was on his agency doing paper work bored out of his mind when one of his sidekicks came running.

"Hawks sir! Look at this!" the sidekick turned on the T.V. that was on Hawks's office and changed the channel to the Sports festival "There is some interesting people here, including Endeavor's son and those from class 1-A that had survived the League attack, there may be some interesting people for you sir"

Hawks nodded and smiled "thank you it had totally escaped my mind that today was the day for the Sport Festival" the sidekick smiled back, bowed and got out of his office.

The moment he closed the door Hawks slammed his head on the table, he actually had forgotten about today, he should be there helping his little sis, he took a deep breath thinking how to apologize, that was when he looked at the screen and almost fell from his chair, he saw his little sis being chased by all the other teams.

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"We've got an assault approaching from the gate. ...and first we have two teams to contend with. This is the fate of the hunted... make your choice Y/n!" Tokoyami and Dark Shadow were looking  at her the best they could without lowing their guard.

"Let's put Midoriya's plan in action!" but before they could do anything they started sinking on the floor.

"We're sinking! It must be that kid's quirk!" the three of them were sinking.

"MIDORIYA, URARAKA AND TOKOYAMI! HOLD ON TIGHT!" Y/n took off her jacket with the gadget showing that she was with only a top under it (like Momo), she opened her wings that were orange with the tip neon orange, and with only one flap of wings she flew up out of harms way, she let one feather for each one of them helping them to keep up with her flying.

"THAT BITCH CAN FLY?!" Bakugo was pissed at that.

"Y/N LEARNED HOW TO FLY??!!" Kirishima was stunned by that

"YOU KNOW THAT BITCH SHITTY-HAIR?!"

Someone shouted "JIROU!"

Jirou tried to reach them but Y/n noticed it before"Dark Shadow! From behind and down!" Dark Shadow blocked it.

"Good work Dark Shadow, always watch over our blind spot."

"Aye aye!"

"You two are awesome! Keep up the good work!" Y/n even if she couldn't see she was still feeling everything around her.

"Holy crap man! Y/n how did you see that???"

She giggled "I didn't" she turned to him, and he saw that she was with the headband on top of her eyes, he looked at her like she was crazy.

"You and Tokoyami both are just the defensive bulwark we were lacking... too cool, bro!! Yours quirks are more than enough to defend us from all directions, at that!! I can't praise you enough, Tokoyami, Y/n!!"

"You all picked me and planned it out." Y/n's wings got slightly pink from the compliment

"We need to land!" Uraraka shouted.

Y/n complied, landing she put her feathers back in place when they stepped on the ground. "How are you all doing?"

"With the help of your feathers and Uraraka helping us float it was easy! We just need to keep it up!" Midoriya was pumped up now

"I'm glad!" Y/n's wings were now full yellow and the tip was golden.

"HAVE A LOOK, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES HAVE ELAPSED AND ALREADY WE HAVE A MELEE OF TUMULTUOUS PROPORTIONS ON OUR HANDS! ANYWHERE YOU REST YOUR EYES. THERE'RE TWO TEAMS VYING FOR AND STEALING EACH OTHER'S HEADBANDS!! AFTER ALL. IT'S A FINE STRATEGY TO AIM FOR 2ND TO 4TH PLACE HEADBANDS INSTEAD OF THE BIG 10,000,000!!"

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(With Hawk's again)

"FUCKING CAMERAMEN!!! FOCUS ON MY LIL' SIS!!!!!!! FUCK IT I'M GOING THERE!" Hawks went out of his office and to the reception "I'm going to U.A." he adjusted his gear, got outside and started to flew in U.A's direction.

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"Hahahahaha! "Stealing each other's headbands?" you think this is some kinda headband exchange...? No, I assure you this'll be... A ONE-SIDED PLUNDERING!!"

"Shouji!? But why are you alone?? This is a cavalry battle, remember!?" Izuku screamed.

"DON'T BE FOOLED MIDORIYA! THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE HIDING INSIDE THERE!!" Y/n shouted.

Midoriya nodded "LET'S PUT SOME DISTANCE BETWEEN US! IN A FIELD WITH MULTIPLE ENEMIES, IT'S NEVER A GOOD IDEA TO REMAIN IDLE ANYWAY!"

"My foot is stuck on the ground! It's one of Mineta's thingies!! Where did he chuck it from..." Uraraka was slightly in panic.

"From here Midoriya~..." Mineta said from his hiding place

"WAAAAAH Y/N-CHAN WAS RIGHT!!!" Midoriya saw Asui's tongue coming out of their cocoon "Caution Y/-!"

Before he could finish Y/n had already evaded her tongue and slightly cut it with one of her feathers.

"I WILL CUT YOUR TONGUE OFF NEXT TIME!" Y/n had a dark aura around her "I. HATE. FROGS!"

"TEAM MINETA HAS MADE A GOOD USE OF THE STARTLING DIFFERENCE IN ITS MEMBERS' BODY TYPES! THEY MIGHT AS WELL BE A WAR TANK! TEAM TAKAMI CAN'T HELP BUT FLY AWAY"

Y/n used her feathers to release Uraraka's foot from the sticky ball and flew away extremely fast.

"Wow! Thank you, Y/n-chan you sure are awesome!" Uraraka shouted as they were on the sky.

But from nowhere Bakugo appeared from behind flying on their direction taking all them by surprise.

"RIDING REAL HIGH AND MIGHTY, AIN'TCHA, YA LIL BITCH CHICKEN!" But when he was a few centimeters from snatching her headband his face was meet with a foot.

Y/n had kicked him with all her strength "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" her wings now were full red and full of rage "YOU WON'T STEAL MY CHANCE OF BECOMING A HERO!" he got pissed and tried to explode her but Dark Shadow protected her sending Bakugo flying back who was caught by Sero's tape, taking that as advantage Y/n got back on the floor with them.

"WHAT DO WE SEE HEEEEEREEEEEE!???" THE RIDE CAN DETACH FROM THE HORSE!? THAT'S ALLOWED!!?"

"It's only a technical, so it's okay!! The rider's just not allowed to plant his feet on the ground!" Midnight gave a thumbs up.

"THAT'S RIGHT, WHETHER IT'S THE GIRL IN FIRST PLACE WHO'S BEING CHASED OR THE REST OF CLASS A. NOW DOING THE CHASING, THIS HERE'S A VERITABLE CONGREGATION OF THE TOP DOGS! LET'S BRIEFLY CONFIRM THAT BY CHECKING THEIR CURRENT POINT VALUES... SEVEN MINUTES HAVE PASSED, SO LET'S PUT THEIR SCORES UP ON THE BIG BOARD FOR ALL TO SEE!"

Team Takami was on 1st, Todoroki on 5st and Bakugo on 7st, mostly the class B was with the points.

".... WHOA, DAMN!!? WAIT JUST ONE GOSH DARN SECOND...! YOU MEAN CLASS A AREN'T TAKING BY A MILE... WELL, APART FROM TAKAMI OF COURSE. AND HOLEY MOLEY, BAKUGO WHAT HAPPENED...!?"

'Class B are smart but... no, now is not the time to think about others... we can't forget that we are on a battle ground where anything can happen' Y/n was focused on every little feeling that was around her.

"Guys evasion should be pretty easy from now on-" before Midoriya could finish Y/n interrupted him "DON'T LET YOUR GUARD DOWN GUYS, WE HAVE GUESTS!"

"NOW THERE IS LESS THAN HALF A MINUTE ON THE CLOCK!!" Mic screamed

Team Todoroki appeared a few meters away from them. "The time has come. I'm taking it" Todoroki said looking at the headband that was on top of Y/n's eyes.

She smiled sweetly at him "Hello again Half n Half boy"

"I though that I would have the chance to get back on Midoriya for the last time... but it's just you..." Todoroki stared at Midoriya.

"Sorry but this time I can't help you this time... This is not only my victory but my friend's victory! So come on and try your all Todoroki Shoto!" she pulled her headband down to her forehead revealing her shinny e/c eyes as she smiled at him "Please be my friend if I win! But... if you win... I still will want to be your friend Todoroki-kun!" Y/n opened her wings that were almost full golden n yellow, they weren't full yet just for the bit of pink on the tips.

"I AM NOT HERE TO MAKE FRIENDS!" Todoroki shouted at Y/n getting pissed at her for those foolish words.

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Hawks now was helping the police with some villains that had attacked some civilians and a supermarket, he was trying to be fast enough, so he could go see his sister in action but the world wasn't allowing him to do so.

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SURPRISE!

Yoh! So... I was dead set on this being an shotoXreader, I even put the tag and everything, but after a few comments maybe it will actually be a katsukiXreader? I don't know... You all can change my mind until next Friday(not this one since I just posted this earlier)

Some of you may have noticed that I am actually accompanying the manga, so... yeah... lov u see u next time<3

THIS FRIDAY WON'T HAVE UPDATES

1400 words

[talkfastromance4]

Snowed In (a.i)

A snow storm is happening where I live now and this sprung to life plus I love winter and I’d love to spend a day in with Ashton. *le sigh 

Word count: 1400

Warnings: fluffy snow fun ;) with a sprinkle of sexy time. i can’t help myself i’m sorry

Masterlist

••••

The weatherman said it would be a record breaking snowstorm and advised the public to stay off the roads until about afternoon the next day when the snow would stop falling. You and Ashton have rented out a cabin in Colorado for a little winter getaway before the craziness of album promos and interviews stormed it’s way in next. 

Ashton brushed it off and planned a whole day to walk the main street and check out all the little gift shops. You warned him profusely that that wasn’t going to happen while making sure you had enough food to last you a day and a half and called the front desk of the lodging to make sure there was a backup generator. There was. 

The next morning Ashton woke you up gently with soft kisses and back rubs (the best way to wake you up honestly, you weren’t a morning person like him) still excited about your shopping day. 

“Have you looked outside yet?” you asks rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“It’ll be fine, angel, it’s a little bit of snow,” he chuckles pulling on gray sweatpants. 

“Yeah?” you raise your eyebrows then glance at the closed curtains. “Take a look then weatherman.”

He cracks open the curtains then opens them wider. 

“Holy fuck!” he exclaims staring out at the white winter tundra. 

Everything was covered with snow while more still flurried in the wind, creating small snow tornadoes scattered about the ground. You giggle as he presses his head to the glass trying to peer up and down the length of the cabin. 

“Told you,” you giggle slipping from the bed and pull on his hoodie. The heat is on but there’s still a draft from the frozen world outside. “Let’s make coffee and snuggle.”

He doesn’t follow you into the kitchen so you work silently putting the Keurig cup in the maker and pull out two mugs. You get the creamer and sugar adding what you like in yours and what Ashton likes in his coffee before padding back into the bedroom. Ashton is still staring outside but instead of his head pressed to the glass, his arms are crossed on his chest. 

You set the mugs down gently on the dresser retrieving your phone and snapping a picture of him, you’ll post it later. You walk up behind him wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his back through his shirt.

“It’s so pretty,” he says twisting his torso so he can hold you against him. 

“Yeah, it is,” you nod admiring it for a moment. You grew up used to harsh winter days so while it was beautiful, you didn’t have to admire it for too long. 

“Come back to bed, I made you coffee,” you say kissing his chest. 

He rubs your back a few times, kisses your head then retreats from the window and back into the stale warmth of your bed. You hand him his mug then turn on the TV scrolling to Netflix and pick a random movie you’ve both seen. 

After your short movie time, Ashton wanted to go outside and explore the snow a little bit. He even wanted to attempt to make a snowman which you knew wouldn’t be possible because it wasn’t packing snow. But the way his eyes lit up who were you to crush that childish spirit?

You both donned your winter attire, happy you forced him to bring boots, and trekked outside. The silence of winter welcomed you with a soft whistle from the wind as it danced through the trees. Ashton took your mitten covered hand in his and you stomped through the snow to the edge of the woods. 

“Let’s try making Olaf,” he grins at you. His nose is already turning a light shade of pink and he looks too damn cute. 

You don’t know how long you struggled but by some miracle the snow stayed packed together into the shape of what could only be described as Olaf’s ugly brother. Ashton trudged to the end of the wood and gathered sticks but as soon as he put them in Olaf, he fell apart.

“No! I killed him!” he shouts causing his voice to echo loudly in the wintry air. 

“He lived a meaningful life,” you console, “no matter how short.”

Ashton looks at you with a pout but then giggles. 

“You have snow on your eyelashes,” he giggles trying to wipe them away. But the snow on his glove goes all over your face and you gasp at the sudden coldness to your skin. “Oops.”

“Oh yeah, ‘oops’ you jerk!” you laugh bending down to pick up some snow and chuck it at him.

It hits his face with a soft ‘fwump’ and he sputters it out of his mouth. A snow fight  ensues until he grabs your waist and you both fall into the powdery snow. You’re both covered from head to toe in the white fluff. Ashton looks too cute and snowy for you to pass up pressing your lips to his.

“You kissed my chin,” he laughs.

“I’m cold! I can’t feel anything!” you laugh back falling off him struggling to get up. 

“Let’s go back, I’m frozen, too.”

The warmth of the cabin washes over you but then brings attention to how cold you really are. Smacking your gloves together and stripping out of your snow things as fast as you can with Ashton following your moves, you can’t wait to get into that hot tub in the master bathroom. 

“I’ll get the tub started, come on,” he pulls your shaking body into the bathroom. He turns on the water then rushes into the bathroom to get warm and dry clothes. You’re still trembling when he returns and he grabs your hands pulling them to his mouth. He blows his breath on your hands.

“You’re s-so sweet b-but I c-can’t feel th-that,” you chatter. 

“I’m sorry, baby we shouldn’t have gone outside,” he apologizes checking the water. It’s almost at the watermark and he turns the jets on and makes sure the heat is set to a hot yet comfortable temperature. “All right, it’s ready.”

With frozen limbs you pull off your wet clothes with Ashton’s help and he holds your hand as you step into the tub. The water pierces your skin like a thousand knives but it’s a welcomed pain. You sit down fast, body still trembling as Ashton climbs in with you. 

He pulls you to his chest, his body heat transferring to yours instantly. You press your lips to his naked chest enjoying getting the feeling back in your lips. 

“How are you so warm all the time?” you ask lifting your head to look at him. 

“You make me warm, angel,” he pecks your nose. “We won’t go outside tomorrow. We’ll stay inside until it’s stopped snowing.”

“I told you so.”

He groans. “You’re making me feel like the worst fucking boyfriend.”

“I know a way you can make it up to me,” you smile climbing onto his lap. The hot water has done its job as you have feeling back in your fingers and toes but now you’re craving a different kind of heat. 

“Oh really? Care to share?”

“I think you can figure it out,” you smirk rubbing your core against his dick. You feel it harden beneath you. 

“You might have to tell me my little snow bunny,” he licks his lips before ducking his head to wrap his mouth around your breast. He sucks and licks, teeth grazing your sensitive area as you gasp out. 

“My mouth is frozen, I can’t,” you sigh. 

He releases your breast with a pop then moves to the next one while you grind impatiently against his hardened member. You let out a whimper at the mere idea of sliding down on him, having him fill you completely. He’s sucking on your breast probably attempting to leave a mark when he releases it with another pop. 

“I’ll let it slide this time, bunny,” he sighs situating you on his lap. He pushes himself into you and you gasp as you slip down him so easily. “But you’re going to tell me everything you want me to do to you when we get out of this tub.”

Being snowed in for another day won’t be the worst thing in the world.

[yeojaa]

SUGAR HIGH, chapter v. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary.  You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing.  jeon jungkook.  mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags.  angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional baggage, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~1400

chapter 5.  It’s Like Twilight

He's loved you since you were kids.  You're sure you've loved him for even longer.  Too bad you're too blinded by each other's light to realize you're standing on the precipice together.

Their return home doesn't go unnoticed - especially when they're holding coffees.

"Yah - where's mine!"  Dressed in his blue and white striped apron, spatula in one hand and hair sticking out in all directions, Seokjin looks like something straight out of a comic strip.  The eldest has all but launched himself across the kitchen counter, nearly sending his previously cradled mixing bowl to the ground.  

"Didn't know who would be up."  Taunting spreads like wildfire, licking across his lips as Jungkook takes a long, appreciative pull of the iced Americano that's causing such a fuss.  "Sorry, hyung."

Except, he doesn't look sorry at all, that little shit-eating grin making a home in the curl of his mouth and the way he languidly drops into the nearest seat, backpack deposited at his feet.  He's relaxing into the cushions, clearly very pleased with himself as he exhales a long yawn.  He'll make it up to Seokjin later, when they're exhausted from meetings and buzzing for some liquid gold in the form of espresso. 

Bemused laughter gives way - dragged off by something that sounds like 'ungrateful little maknae' - and Jungkook allows himself to sink further into the chair, arm thrown across his eyes.  He shifts this way and that, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, as he chases comfort like a dog on the hunt. 

A nap sounded really, really good right now.

"Everything okay?"  The voice comes from just above him and to the left.  Namjoon, of course.

'Or not,' he thinks, not unkindly.

"Yeah."  His response is muffled by the crook of his elbow, rumbling out of his chest and disappearing against sinew and bone.  It fills the silence for only a moment before he's realizing it's inadequate.  Straightening up and facing his leader head-on, he offers a smile that brims with unspoken gratitude.  "Everything's good."

Namjoon doesn't push further.  He never does.  He always trusts his members.  "Okay."

By the time everyone has woken up - or been drawn to the kitchen by the smell of cocoa and cinnamon - Jungkook's already showered and found his seat at the imposing dining table.  A leg is hiked up, foot flat against the inside of his ankle, as he tears into a still-warm waffle, careful not to coat his fingers in syrup.

He's humming to himself and scrolling through his phone with his free hand, seemingly lost in thought.

Really, he's making note of which photos to edit and which will never see the light of day.  

There's the shot of the '95ers, Taehyung's frame cradled by the smaller dancer's.  It's hard to tell whose limbs are whose, where one's hair ends and the other begins.  They're two halves of a whole, the same easy laughter radiating off them in waves.

There's Namjoon, framed against the skyline, his profile a stark contrast to the way orange flares across the horizon, devouring the bell-flower blue and leaving violet in its wake.

There's one of Hoseok, palms facing the camera as he'd leapt into a sudden reenactment of some of their latest choreography.  His face is barely visible, just a brilliant, all-encompassing smile.

And then there's you, sputtering around a mouthful of toothpaste.  You're together under the fluorescent light of your bathroom, his elbow resting on your shoulder as you make funny faces at each other in the mirror. 

"How's Soomi?"  The question draws him from his careful consideration, dragging his attention instead to the zombie come to life that's just dropped into the seat beside him. 

He wonders, briefly, who had to drag Yoongi out of bed this time.  He's glad it wasn't him. 

"She's fine."  Jungkook's response is noncommittal like the shrug he offers up.  It isn't his place to say.

"I'm surprised she got over it that quickly."

This stirs something in the younger's gut, his hand stilling mid-grab of a waffle.  Long enough for Yoongi to notice on his right and for Taehyung to steal said waffle on his left.  "You knew?"  He hates the way the question sounds, shocked and surprised and maybe just a little bit sullen.

"You're not the only one she talks to."  It's a reprimand framed around a mouthful of toast, edge of reproach softened by the way their eyes meet.  "I've known for a while.  She tries too hard to hide things when she's upset."

Jungkook knew that.  You'd always trip over your own two feet in your haste to come up with another excuse as to why you were upset, or why your Discord's Listening To was suddenly filled with heartbreaking songs.  You'd never admit something was eating you up inside;  you'd rather deflect with some terrible joke or another meme you'd found on Naver.  

"I didn't know it was that bad."  When Jungkook finally manages a response, he's keenly aware of how bad it sounds. 

But he'd been so busy - so wrapped up in preparing for their new release.  Their comeback had meant everything to him.  Not that you'd blame him, of course.  You wanted this, just as much as he did.  Anything for him.

"It's not a big deal,"  Yoongi mirrors the younger's earlier movement, narrow shoulders shifting beneath the cotton of his long sleeve.  He's spreading butter over another piece of toast as he speaks, quiet beneath the din of other voices.  "She was going to tell you eventually.  It just happened faster than she thought it would."  A bite and thoughtful chewing.  "Probably for the best, anyway."

It was no secret how little any of the seven men around the table liked your ex-boyfriend.

To them, it was strikingly evident you were as different as night and day.  Where you shone like the sun, he eclipsed the stars.  You'd always insisted the night sky was beautiful in its own way but you'd never realized those things kept secret and shameful at night would never compare to the glory of another morning.

"Yeah, for the best," Jungkook echoes.

"Your hair looks good, unnie,"  Yejin chirps as you approach the table, tray loaded with goodies from the pastry case. 

You beam from ear to ear as you sit down, pushing the offerings to your friend.  You'd managed to get in to see your stylist shortly after Jungkook had left, nearly begging him on the phone.  You had to admit - he'd done a phenomenal job.  

Sure, you knew you were never supposed to make any drastic style changes after a breakup but this felt right.

"Thank you."  

Picking apart a croissant - almond, your favourite - you allow silence to settle between the two of you.  It feels good to be out of the house for the first time in days.  Normal, almost.

You remind yourself it's only been 72 hours.

"So, Jungkook’s back?" 

You'd been waiting for the question, partially relieved when Yejin gets it out of the way so quickly.  You'd always appreciated that about her.  She was no-nonsense. 

"Yeah.  I'm not sure for how long, though."  Because no matter what it was never long enough.  One of the downfalls of being famous, you supposed.  Though, really - you didn't mind.  It kept your friendship strong, forcing you through bouts of silence and the sound of his voice only through the airwaves.

"You're finally going to tell him, right?"  She's expectant, tearing you apart with her eyes like you're doing to your croissant.

You snort, the sound unflattering and decidedly childish.  "There's nothing to tell."

"You're kidding me."  Yejin is the queen of making you feel like a freshman about to get hazed, brows darting high in what can only be described as disapproval.  Perhaps exasperation, too, and a sprinkle of love.  

"I'm serious.  We're friends."

It's her turn to snort, the sound derisive and cutting.  You know it's all in good fun, so you let it go. 

"If I had a friend that looked like that, we'd be more than friends."

"I'm telling Kihoon you said that."  Kihoon being her boyfriend of seven years and the reason you still believed in true love.  They were just so disgustingly perfect together.  

"Go ahead - he'll agree with me."

You know she's right so you stuff the rest of your croissant in your mouth, nearly choking when she rolls her eyes and mimes shooting herself straight through the head. 

Drama queen.

notes.   i accidentally refreshed my page while halfway through this chapter and that folks, is why you don't write in anything but Word (or the equivalent). big ol' fml. 

i apologize if this chapter was a little lackluster (and short!).  rewriting was awful.  the next chapter will be better, though. i think. i hope. 

also, listen to the classic BUDDY mix of ATEEZ's "twilight" if you want some real feels.

[plus-size-reader]

Weakness pt. 3

Ivar the Boneless x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1400 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Ivar sees the reader again, this time with the rest of his brother’s in attendance. He has to come to terms with the unfortunate truth...He is in love. 

———————————————————————————————————

It had been quite some time since that day in the great hall, and Ivar hadn’t seen you, even once. However, he couldn’t get you out of your head. 

Your heartbeat hammering against your chest, your breath fanning his face as your fingers lightly brushed along the bridge of his nose and his jaw. Every second was ingrained in his brain, playing on a loop on his eyelids, each time he closed them. 

You had done something to him on that day, and he wasn’t truly sure what it was. Perhaps you had cast a spell on him, that made it impossible for him to forget your face. 

Whatever it was, he couldn’t wait to see you again. In fact, he had been aimlessly wandering around Kattegat for days, hoping to find you. If he made it look like coincidence, he didn’t have to feel so pathetic. 

After all, he was a son of Ragnar and chasing after a girl wasn’t his way. 

If anything, the girls should have been swarming him...not that he’d be paying much attention. 

Ivar had never felt the way he felt about you for another person. You were unique, special and everyone who met you knew it. 

Now he just had to find you so that he could tell you in person.

~ 

Ivar had been wandering around outside for hours, and by this point, he looked crazy. 

Crazy enough for each of his brothers to stop what they were doing, just to watch him. Between the three of them, they couldn’t figure out what he was doing, hobbling around on his crutch.  

“What are you doing brother?” Hvitserk finally asked, leaving his brothers behind to approach Ivar. He was a strange man at all times, but this was something different. 

Never in his life had Hvitserk seen him act this way. 

The younger man groaned, clearly inconvenienced by the whole conversation, though he didn’t really have a reason to be. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be confused. 

“Nothing, leave me be” he ordered, knowing full well that Hvitserk was going to ignore him. Instead, he just stood there, waiting for some kind of development. 

Leaving Ivar to pout never really worked out in anyone’s favor. 

Hvitserk eventually sighed, leaning down to come face to face with his brother’s blue eyes.

That was when he put it all together. 

He had seen that look before. Not in Ivar’s eyes, but in Ubbe’s, ever time he looked at Margrethe. 

...Ivar was in love. 

“There’s a girl, tell me-what is her name?” he asked, a grin snaking its way onto his face. Hvitserk felt the need to tease the other man, deep in his gut, but resisted the urge. 

Instead, he was going to use this opportunity to get as much information out of his little brother as possible. 

If he had caught him off guard enough, perhaps he would tell Hvitserk what he wanted to know. 

“Why would I tell you? So you could track her down and deflower her?” Ivar spit, knowing his brother better than anyone. Hvitserk had quite a reputation with free women and thralls alone, and Ivar wasn’t going to let him steal you away.

Surely between the two of them, you would choose Hvitserk, just like the rest always did. 

No, he wasn’t going to tell him. Ivar had already made up his mind. 

“I would not do that to you brother, I would just like to know her name,” he assured, laughing at the implication of his brother’s jealousy. Whoever you were, he was sure that you were quite the woman. 

None of his brother’s had ever seen Ivar act this way. 

However, before Ivar could tell him, he saw you across the way. 

You were walking through the farmer’s spread, looking for fresh apples so that you could make a pie. They had always been your mother’s favorite and with harvest quickly approaching in Kattegat, this was the perfect time to get them. 

In fact, you were so preoccupied with the produce that you didn’t even realize that four grown men all had their eyes on you. 

You had an agreement with the owner of the orchard. He would hold back a few of his best apples, in exchange for fresh bread, which you also liked to bake. 

You gathered the basket he had for you, thanked him and then went on your way. You knew the way back to your home by heart, so you didn’t ever worry about getting lost. 

“Y/N!”

You stopped in your tracks as soon as you heard him. 

It was Ivar, though you had no idea where he was. Unlike the closed quarters of the great hall, there was too much noise in the middle of the street for you to figure out where the sound had come from. 

“Ivar? Where are you?” you wondered, your free hand feeling around a bit, assuming that he was near you. Little did you know, he and his audience were on the other side of the trail. 

It was around this time that Hvitserk and the rest of his brother’s put the pieces together. 

They had never seen a blind person in real life before, aside from the seer of course, and didn’t know what to do. After all, there had to be some kind of protocol for dealing with a woman who couldn’t see them. 

Ivar’s attention was fully poised on you, so much so that he didn’t even realize when Ubbe stepped forward to help you. He only smiled at his brother as he approached you, letting him know that he meant well. 

“Hello, my name is Ubbe, I’m going to help you over to Ivar, if that’s okay?” He greeted, instantly flustering you. You had never met any of the other princes but this was quite the way to do so. 

You only nodded, feeling his arm loop around your own, helped you toward where you assumed Ivar was. 

Ivar was grateful for the help, though he wanted nothing more than to help you himself. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t do that for you, he could hardly stand himself, led alone lead you around on top of that. 

“Thank you, my Prince” you hummed, feeling him let go after bringing you over to where his brother had been waiting. 

This time, when you reached out, you found the familiar leather of Ivar’s wrist braces beneath your fingers. 

If there was any question in their minds over whether you were the girl or not, that had all gone now. Ivar had this dreamy look on his face, that he was glad you couldn’t see. 

He likely would never hear the end of this, but in the moment, he couldn’t care less. 

All he could think about was you. 

“Hello Y/N” he smiled, taking your hands in his own, your skin so much smoother in comparison to his. Everything about you was smooth and gentle, so different than everything else in his world. 

You were perfect, in every way and he only wished that he could tell you. 

“Hello Ivar, how are you?” you wondered, sort of confused as to why you were just standing there in silence. Little did you know, he was struggling to gain his confidence to speak to you. 

Never had he felt this way before, like there was some sort of creature in the pit of his stomach, clawing to get out. It was both terrifying and amazing all at once. 

“I am alright, happy to see you” he allowed, feeling silly as he said it, though he didn’t want to admit it. Everything about how he was feeling right now was wrong. 

He hated it but somehow, he couldn’t get enough. 

It didn’t matter to him in the moment that his brother’s were likely going to make fun of him forever over this. All he could think about in this moment was how beautiful you looked. 

“Why don’t you invite your friend to have dinner with us Ivar?” Ubbe suggested, only half kidding. He was teasing but it wasn’t a terrible idea. 

Ivar just struggled to focus with you so close to him. However, prompting from his brother did wonders to help. Now he just hoped that you would agree. 

Because whether he liked you or not, Ivar wasn’t a patient man.

[breathinginthevapor]

Falling

Summary: You miss Tom after your breakup. Based on falling by Harry Styles

A/N: Falling is my favourite on Harry’s amazing album, and I just had to write something based upon it!

Word count: 1400+

T/W: mentions of alcohol, hinting at cheating

Masterlist

//

The silky lining is cool against your skin, serving as yet another reminder of the missing presence beside you. You have gotten so used to the warmth of his body that no matter how many covers you lay under, there’s always a kiss of icy cold when he’s not there.

You bury your head in your pillow, but its rosy colour resembles the one on his cheeks when he blushes, and the images of his face wrapped up in despair becomes clearer when you close your eyes. 

So, you sit up and lean against the bedframe, gazing out of the window to the dark streets of London where drunk girls who look all too young to be out at this time of the night stumbles home, the lucky ones clinging to each other while the less fortunate hugs their jackets closer to their bodies and tries not to fall because they know that nobody is there to catch them.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you look at one girl, illuminated by a flickering streetlight. Her shoulders shake, and it looks like she’s crying as she walks only a few steps behind a couple other girls laughing loudly. You wonder why they don’t turn around and ask her to join the conversation, or at least ask if she’s alright, if she needs anything.

But then again, you, of all people, would know why; It’s way too easy to get wrapped up in the thrill and excitement of the moment and forget about everything and everyone else.

The lonely girl takes a left turn and disappears out of your field of vision along with the chatty group that enters an apartment complex, and soon, the street is empty. Unusual for a Friday night in London, but you shouldn’t be surprised that even strangers avoid being near you.

And you don’t blame them, don’t blame your friends that have grown tired of you or Tom who has left you because of those terrible things you’ve done, this awful person you’ve become.

Truth be told, you are beginning to question whether you’d want yourself around.

You’ve always thought you were a good person. Not the rainbow-out-your-ass type of good, but a supportive friend, a caring daughter, a gentle lover.

But good persons don’t do what you’ve done.

Today was the second time you’ve seen him after the break-up. The first time, just a couple weeks after your split, he was standing outside your flat with a big cardboard box.

//

“Don’t want your stuff lying around anymore,” he said, coldly, his face in an emotionless expression, like cut in stone. He held the box out for you and waited for you to grab it, but you didn’t, you couldn’t, you just stared at him and soaked up every small thing about him, from the acne scars on his chin to the tilt of his eyebrow to the dark brown colour of his eyes.

He dropped the box to the floor and turned around, taking a few steps down the stairs.

“Stay, please, I- I haven’t slept since you left, I don’t know what to do without you, I’m so sorry, Tom, please, I-“ you begged him.

He paused, shoulders raised, before he ran down the remaining stairs, the door slamming behind him.

//

The box he handed you that day seems to be mocking you from its place beside your cabinet. It’s been months, and still, you can’t unpack it. You don’t want to know which things he has put in there, like whether or not he has kept the picture you painted together on your second anniversary or the Spiderman T-shirt you gave him for his last birthday.

Thankfully, he had been kinder today. Softer around the edges, forgiveness braided into his tone. He was doing good, he told you while you were standing in the line. Was working on a new film he was really excited about, something about royalty and a heist, and he had had this charming grin on his face and his eyes had lit up, hands gesturing wildly to mimic explosions.

And you think that it made it worse, that you would have preferred him to be mad, to still not have gotten over the what you had done because at least it would mean that he hadn’t gotten wholly over you either.

And you suppose that makes you selfish, and that you should want him to be happy, and you do, but you wish he could be happy with you again.

It hadn’t been your usual barista today, and maybe that was good because the small café close to his parents’ house already held too many memories.

You had sat at your usual table, and out of habit, he had ordered the usual for both of you. You were surprised he remembered, honestly, but when the barista came to your table with only one cinnamon bun, it had gotten quite awkward.

“Do you remember that first time?” you had asked him before thinking it through. “I thought it was so romantic that we shared.”

He had chuckled and broken the cake in half, just like he always did, giving you the bigger half.

“How could I forget. That was our thing.”

And he had nudged you gently with his shoulder and pushed his glasses up his nose, and you had hated yourself for hurting him.

Perhaps he had felt that, because he looked at you worriedly and asked you how you were doing.

“Do you care?” you had asked him.

“Of course I care, Y/N.”

And he had taken your hand, and you had tried to blink away tears, but to no use. Drying them off with the back of your hand, you had told him that you missed him.

“I miss you, too. Terribly so. But this is for the best.”

“Not for me,” you had sobbed.

You had immediately regretted saying it, but of course, there was no way to take it back. Still, you cursed yourself far away for continuing to be so damn selfish.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he had said, gently, and his gaze had pierced your eyes in what felt like a silent declaration of love.

And you had known right there that the two of you had run out of things to say. That everything beyond this point wouldn’t change a single thing or offer any of you more consolation.

Still, you had small-talked a bit, and he had told you a funny story about Sam, and you had laughed in that whole-hearted, head-tilted-back kind of way that you only did with him. And he had asked you about your job, and you had complained to him about your stupid boss, and the whole time you just sat there and thought that this was ok. That having him here beside you, not as a lover but maybe as a friend, was better than nothing, because gosh, you might not want yourself around anymore, but if it was up to you, he’d always be a constant figure in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” he had asked you.

“I think you’re the best person I know,” you had said, honestly, and watched conflicting emotions playing on his features.

“Thank you,” he had said, and it had sounded like he meant it. But then, he had smiled apologetically, “I have to go, sorry.”

He had stood up and shrugged on his jacket, blue denim sitting tight on his broad shoulders and a black beanie hiding his unruly curls. Giving you a quick hug, he had left a few bills to pay for the coffee and then turned around.

He had taken a few steps before turning back, crooked smile and sad eyes making it out for contrast on his face.

“Don’t be a stranger, ok?”

“Ok,” you had promised with a brittle voice.

But you wondered if you already were.

And now, lying in a bed meant for two under covers you never would have bought for yourself, it feels like falling, like a wake-up call. It’s time to be responsible, you figure, time to turn your life around and ensure that you can be someone you’d like. And the first step is unpacking that box from Tom.

You eye the cardboard as if it’s a dangerous animal, trying to figure out if it will go after you before you decide that unpacking is a task for another day.

You have to hit the ground first.

[winchester-fantasies]

New Memories

Summary: You try to help Sam remember what it means to celebrate Christmas.

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: fluff, some swearing, tiniest bit of angst

Pairing: Sam x Reader

A/N: This was a request by @awesomesusiebstuff​ ! I started following you after reading your story, Merry Christmas, Baby and was hoping you might do a request for me. Could you write something where the reader is really trying to help Sam Winchester find a reason to want to celebrate the holidays after all the losses? Not looking for smut or angst but holiday spirit and fluff. Thank you for your request!! I had to incorporate a bit of angst for the story to work properly, but I tried to limit it as much as possible and focus on holiday spirit/cheer! I hope you like it. ❤❤

     “So I think we'll need about a pound of apples and two pounds of cherries,” you said. You looked down at the grocery list before you and worried the pen between your teeth. “Does that sound right to you?” you asked Dean who sat in front of you.

     Dean had just taken a sip of his coffee but nearly spewed it as he fought to hold back a laugh. “Don't ask me, sweetheart,” he huffed out a chuckle after he'd swallowed. “I'm just gonna be sampling the pie,” he said teasingly.

     You rolled your eyes. “You're no help at all,” you scoffed. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he took another sip.

     “No help with what?” Sam asked, coming into the kitchen and going to the coffee maker.

     You turned in your seat to face Sam. If anyone came to your defense it'd be him, and you were determined to have him in your corner in this. “I'm trying to plan a Christmas party, and Dean said he wanted to help. I want to make at least three pies, but instead of helping me figure out what all we need for the ingredients, your brother is just sitting here and drooling,” you complained.

     “Well, I think I can settle this conundrum,” Sam said.

     “Oh, yeah?” you asked, turning back around in your seat and crossing your arms. “And what's that?” You gave Dean a triumphant look just waiting for Sam to put him in his place.

     “We're not having Christmas,” Sam stated bluntly.

     Your self-satisfied smirk fell from your lips, and you whirled around. “What?” you screeched. 

     Sam turned around and leaned back against the counter. “You heard me,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

     “And why the hell not?” you asked incredulously.

     Sam shrugged. “Just because,” he answered vaguely. 

     Dean had been silent the whole time, enjoying watching you squirm under his brother's words. But the more Sam argued, the more Dean felt this had gone too far. He was just as excited about Christmas as you were. “You're not the only one in the bunker, you know?” Dean said with a frown.

     “Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “I just thought we could do something different this year.”

     You narrowed your eyes. “We haven't celebrated Christmas in over five years,” you said. 

     “So?” Sam asked. 

     “So this is the something different,” you said exasperatedly, throwing your hands in the air.

     “Come on, Sammy,” Dean implored. “There has to be a reason why you're so aga….”

     “For fuck's sake!” Sam snapped. “Isn't me not wanting to celebrate a good enough reason?” he asked. He sat his cup on the counter with a thud, the contents sloshing onto the counter. He stalked from the room, a deep frown marking his brow.

     You turned towards Dean, wide-eyed. Dean returned your shocked gaze and let out a low whistle.

     “What was that about?” you whispered harshly.

     Dean shrugged and looked towards the doorway. “I have no fucking clue,” he said.

     You sighed. “I'll go talk to him,” you said, pushing back from the table.

     You found Sam's door partially open, and you could hear him shuffling inside. You knocked quietly, not wanting to startle him. You entered gingerly when you heard no answer. 

     He was sitting on the edge of his bed when you walked in. You closed the door and made your way over to him. His face was hard, and his jaw ticked as he stared straight ahead. “Sam,” you said quietly, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Please tell me why you don't want to celebrate Christmas. I know it's not 'just because,’” you chuckled.

     When he didn't answer you sighed. “I just want to understand,” you said.

     Sam’s shoulders slumped, and he hung his head. “It's just…. After everything we've been through, and after all the people we've lost, it feels wrong to celebrate. Almost like we're disrespecting them. I just don't see the point or even know a good reason to.”

     You gave Sam a slight smile. “I get it, Sam. I really do,” you said. “But there are a myriad of reasons why we can and should celebrate Christmas this year.”

     Sam looked at you, his eyes filled with skepticism.

     “One,” you said, ticking off your fingers. “It'll give us a chance to get our minds on more pleasant things instead of everything we've been dealing with lately. Two: All those people we've lost wouldn't want us to wallow. They would want us to remember the good times. Which brings me to my next two points.

     “Three: Christmas gives us a chance to reminisce about happy times with the people who aren't here anymore but who we still love and cherish. And lastly: It'll give us an opportunity to make new memories.” You watched Sam intently, hoping something you said was making some kind of difference, but his face remained unreadable.

     You got up from the bed and were about to walk out, but you stopped at the door. “You know, Sammy, there’s this quote I read once by Agnes M. Pahro. She said that Christmas was “tenderness for the past, courage for the present, and hope for the future.” Christmas is a chance to harness those things. If we don’t, then we’ve clearly forgotten what it is to be human.”

     You opened the door and stepped through but paused once more. You sent him a thin-lipped smile. “Now you can decide to join or us not. That’s up to you. But you’re not the only one living here and me, Dean, and Cas - we’re going to celebrate,” you said firmly. You closed the door quietly and made your way back to the kitchen, hoping something you’d said got past Sam’s tough exterior.

**********

     You, Dean, and Cas were in the kitchen cooking and laughing. Dean was basting the ham while Cas stood at the island, awkwardly mashing potatoes. The eldest Winchester was regaling you both with stories about Bobby, his dad, and a few with other hunters and friends he’d made along the way.

     The three of you were laughing so hard you barely heard the soft tap of knuckles on wood. The laughter ceased and the kitchen grew quiet. You turned to find Sam standing uncertainly in the doorway. 

     “Hey,” you said with a grin.

     “Hey,” Sam said, giving you that boyish half-smile. He took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re right,” he said.

     You smiled, your heart swelling with joy. “Here,” you said, holding out a ball of dough. “You can help me put the final touches on the pies.”

     Sam came to your side, taking the dough from you with a wide grin. You sprinkled a bit of flour on the countertop before handing the rolling pin to Sam. 

     Laughter once again rang throughout the bunker and for the first time in a long time, things felt right.

**********

     After eating, you, Dean, Cas, and Sam made your way to the library where Dean and Cas had set up the Christmas tree. You had already adorned most of its branches with ornaments, lights, and garland.

     You went to the old Men of Letters’ record player, choosing a classic Christmas album and putting it on. The sounds of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” floated through the air as you made your back to the boys.

     “Would you do us the honor, Sam?” you asked, handing him the multi-colored star.

     Sam smiled, taking it from you and placing it on the top with ease. Dean plugged in the tree and the library was illuminated with white, red, green, and blue lights and everything sparkled and glittered in their glow. You all stepped back, admiring the beauty and relishing the feel of joy and peace.

     You started when you felt Sam’s arm slip softly around your waist. Without warning he cupped your cheek, leaned down, and pressed his lips to yours. You found yourself melting into him, his scent like that of cinnamon and cloves and his taste one of apple pie and hot chocolate.

     Your head was spinning when Sam finally pulled away. “What was that?” you asked breathlessly. You put your fingers to your lips, shocked that your best friend had just kissed you.

     Sam grinned, his eyes sparkling with a light you hadn’t seen in ages. “I’m making new memories,” he said before capturing your lips in another kiss.

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