#lots of stuff I covered here -passes out-

[heartsriki]

ALWAYS YOURS, NEVER MINE ⌇늦은

pairing ᝰ jungwon x fem!reader (?) — featuring.. riki & jay word count: 3k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ pt. 2, angst, high-school au!, gut-wrenching angst like trust, love triangle, crying, lots of selfishness coming from won, hurt no comfort..., one-sided love.

synopsis — why did jungwon hide rikis love letter to you? (PLEASE READ PART 1)

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊there were a lot of questions/asks for explanations from pt. 1 so here it is! guys lowkey started tearing up I'm so sorry jungwon biases... I couldn't help myself again...

5 months before…

Today was Jungwon’s worst day possible. He hadn’t done as well as he wanted on an important test—not a failing grade, but not perfect either. On top of that, he left his stuff somewhere and couldn’t remember where.

Usually, he was calm, cool, and collected, but right now, he felt helpless. Resting his head on his desk, he let the frustration settle in, feeling like he was slowly being submerged in water—until he felt a slight tug on his hair.

Slowly, he lifted his head, only to see you, your hand still hovering above him. You flinched at his movement, clearly not expecting him to be awake.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were asleep, and your hair just looked so fluffy—” you blurted, your words tumbling over each other.

Jungwon just stared at you, silent.

You took his lack of response as a reason to keep going. “Anyway—I found this bag and recognized the name. Here you go!” You slung it over the back of his chair, grinning.

He glanced at the bag before looking back at you. You knew him? He didn’t know you.

The silence stretched, and you hummed, shifting awkwardly. He still hadn’t said thank you. You were about to excuse yourself when you caught a glimpse of the paper under his arms.

“Hey, a 75? That’s great! Man, I barely got a 65—you’re so smart. You wanna study sometime?”

Jungwon opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the classroom door swung open.

“Y/N! We need you in the student council room—the boys are fighting again!”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. Without another word, you gave him a small wave, flashing a pretty smile before running off.

Jungwon raised his head, staring at the spot you had just been. “A 75 isn’t even good,” he murmured, resting his head back down. “What a weirdo.”

Yet, despite himself, he kept thinking back to that moment. He wouldn’t admit it, but it brought him a strange sense of comfort. He also didn’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if he had really lost his stuff.

Days passed, and while he didn’t speak to you much, he saw you everywhere. Then, one day, as he strolled through the library, he spotted you working at the front desk.

He lingered behind a shelf, watching as you glanced around before sneaking to the back of the library.

Curiosity got the better of him. He followed.

Turning the corner, he caught you opening a small box, slipping a piece of paper inside. When you turned around, both of you flinched.

“Jungwon? What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms. “What are you doing here? What’s in the box?”

Quickly, you stretched your arms out, blocking him. “It’s nothing.”

Jungwon smirked, trying to peek past you. “If it’s nothing, let me see.”

Before you could stop him, he had already snatched up the paper. You groaned, covering your face as he read it.

“You were embarrassed over cussing someone out for wearing the same headband as you on picture day?” His grin widened, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I talked about wearing that headband for weeks…” you mumbled, looking away.

For a moment, he stayed silent. And then—he burst out laughing. Full, unrestrained laughter—the kind he hadn’t had in ages.

From that day on, he stayed by your side.

Jungwon was well-known around school. Girls found him handsome, even flirted with him, guys thought he was pretty damn good at sports and cool to hang out with. But because of that pedestal, few ever approached him as a true friend.

You didn’t seem to care about all that.

Instead of just waving at him in the hallway, you ran up to him to rant about your day. Instead of borrowing a pencil and ignoring him for the rest of class, you swapped desk numbers just to sit beside him. Instead of leaving him alone when he shut down, you stayed. Always.

You became his best friend. And he was yours. Thats all he ever needed.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

February rolled around—the month of love. The halls were littered with Valentine’s posters, the air buzzing with excitement.

Jungwon didn’t think much of it. Maybe he’d just hang out with you that day.

But when he sat down next to you in class, you were grinning at your phone, giggling.

He smiled. “What’s got you so giddy today, huh?”

You turned your screen toward him. “I got Riki’s contact today… look!”

Jungwon’s smile faltered. He glanced at the name on your screen. Ah. Right.

He forgot about your tiny crush on Riki.

Nodding, he turned to the window, pretending it didn’t bother him. But the dull thump in his chest told him otherwise. I guess you’ll be busy that day. How lame.

Later that day, he was on the soccer field when his phone vibrated. Seeing your name, he grinned stupidly and opened the message.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Jungwon stared at the screen.

Riki? Well. It was about time. He had been into you without a doubt.

Scoffing, Jungwon typed back.

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Jungwon frowned. You could be so oblivious sometimes. To more than one person.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

Setting his phone down, he exhaled sharply. He had a weird urge to see you. Maybe you wanted to talk about it.

He sighed, packing up his things and heading toward the library.

As he neared the back entrance, he spotted Riki slipping out. Their eyes met for a second, but neither spoke.

There was something in that look. Knowing.

Jungwon clenched his jaw and walked past him, slipping inside unnoticed.

Then, his eyes landed on the box.

For a split second, he hesitated. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward.

Glancing around, he reached inside. There were a lot of letters. But he found Riki’s almost immediately—a pink envelope decorated with tiny white hearts, his name written neatly on the front which was uncommon for love letters being left vulnerable in a box.

Jungwon stared at it. “What an idiot.”

Without thinking, he plucked it from the box, turning it over in his hands before slowly opening it.

Inside, a note.

Hey, I don’t really know how to start this. Okay, so… I think you’re really annoying. But for some reason, I like how annoying you are. You’re incredibly nosy, but I don’t mind when you peck at my life. I don’t know when I started to feel this way, but I know how I feel now. I like you. A lot. Too much, actually. If you feel the same, then… I don’t know. You’ll know what to do. You always do. — N.R.

Jungwon exhaled, rubbing his temples.

If you knew about this, you’d be over the moon.

And yet—before he could stop himself—he shoved the letter into his bag.

Why?

He convinced himself it was to toy with you. Something deeper inside knew other wise.

When Jungwon saw you through the student council door, scanning through all the love letters, he felt a soft pang in his chest. You were looking for Riki’s… he knew it.

When he entered, he played it off—laughing, smiling—knowing he had the one thing you had been waiting for this entire year. But when the opportunity came to fess up, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

When Riki stepped in, both Jungwon and Riki locked eyes. It didn’t even last a second, but the way he looked at him… he knew. He definitely knew that Jungwon had grabbed the letter.

Jungwon excused himself, whispering, “Good luck,” into Riki’s ear. A small part of him meant it. It was more for you.

He walked slowly to the locker room, overthinking about you and Riki. Overthinking about you and himself. What is this? It hurt. It hurt so much.

He was caught off guard by a hand on his shoulder. It was Jay, another friend of his.

“Hey man, where’s your girlfriend?” Jay asked with a knowing grin.

Jungwon blinked, still walking toward the locker room. “Girlfriend? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jay sighed, glancing around before looking back at him. “Don’t play dumb. You know I’m talking about Y/N. Did you confess yet?”

Jungwon stopped, causing Jay to stumble a little. Jay looked at him, puzzled.

Confess. Did he like you? Is that what this is?

That’s what he thought about for the rest of the day.

He liked you.

He liked you.

He liked you. You. You. You.

He fumbled on the field, spaced out during conversations, and excused himself from after-practice hangouts.

When he got home, he immediately went to his room, throwing himself onto his bed and sighing at the ceiling. The moment of peace was interrupted by a vibration in his right hand. He brought his phone up to his face and saw your contact. You always called him after his practice.

He answered, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey.”

“AHHHHHHH, Wonnie! You won’t believe it! He likes me back! Isn’t that crazy? For some reason, his love letter went missing—some weirdo took it. But he confessed to me!” you squealed from the other line.

He smiled a little at your happiness, ignoring the heaviness in his chest. “That’s great Y/N… You guys dating now?”

“Actually, we’re taking things slow. He blabbed about needing to take care of something first.”

That made Jungwon sit up. “Take care of something?” he asked.

“Yeah. No clue, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve been waiting long enough—I can wait a little bit more.” You smiled to yourself.

Jungwon thought. Riki didn’t need to take care of something. He needed to take care of someone.

“I’m sure it’ll happen soon,” Jungwon said, trying to sound reassuring.

You sighed at his words. “Thanks, I feel like the happiest girl in the world.”

Jungwon didn’t respond to that. “I’m pretty tired from practice. Talk to you later?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Wonnie! Of course—sleep well, alright?”

“…You too.”

And with that, he hung up.

Jungwon stared at his phone, the call screen fading to black as the weight in his chest settled in. His fingers curled around the device, gripping it tighter than necessary.

He likes me back!

Your words replayed in his head over and over, each time pressing harder against the part of him that had only just realized the truth.

He liked you.

And now, he was too late.

Jungwon exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto his bed before running a hand down his face. The ceiling blurred in his vision as he lay back down, feeling—what was this? Emptiness? Regret?

He wanted to be happy for you. He was happy for you. You were his best friend. That’s what best friends did. They supported each other, no matter what.

But then why did it feel like his heart was being squeezed in a way that left him breathless?

Riki still hadn’t officially asked you out. That was something, right? But Jungwon knew it wasn’t for the reason you thought.

He needed to take care of someone.

Jungwon scoffed to himself, letting his arm drape over his eyes.

Riki knew. He definitely knew.

And now, Jungwon had a choice to make.

Does he let this be? Pretend his feelings didn’t exist, swallow them whole, and stand by your side like he always had?

Or does he do something about it?

His fingers twitched at the thought, but deep down, he already knew his answer.

Jungwon had never been the type to back down from a challenge. But this—this wasn’t some game. This wasn’t a competition he could win just by trying harder, running faster, pushing himself more.

This was you.

And if anyone deserved to be happy, it was you.

Even if it wasn’t with him.

“Pass it!” Jungwon yelled across the field.

He had been practicing all morning, through breaks, and even during lunch. Soccer was his escape—the only thing that drowned out the noise in his head.

But that peace was shattered when he spotted a figure standing by the benches near his stuff.

Riki.

He stood there, arms crossed, gaze steady. His expression was unreadable, but Jungwon knew exactly why he was here.

Jungwon hesitated for only a second before calling for a break. With a deep sigh, he jogged over, wiping sweat from his forehead before sitting down on the bench. He didn’t look at Riki, just grabbed his water bottle and took a sip.

Riki sat beside him, wasting no time.

“Do you know what happened to my letter?”

Jungwon glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then turned his gaze back to the field. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?” His voice was flat, expression unreadable.

Riki exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly as if he expected that response. “Why?”

Jungwon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know the answer to that too.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. The distant shouts of players and the sound of cleats against the field felt worlds away.

Finally, Jungwon sat up, patting his thigh before standing. “Is that it? I’m pretty busy.” He nodded toward the field, crossing his arms.

Riki stood too, this time meeting Jungwon’s gaze head-on. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

“However you feel, take it out on me. Not her, she cares for you.”

Jungwon clenched his jaw.

Riki let the words linger before turning on his heel and walking away.

Jungwon watched him go, fingers tightening around his water bottle. His chest felt heavy, like something was pressing down on it, suffocating him.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before kicking the bench. It barely moved, but it was enough to make his frustration bubble over.

Why did Riki have to say it like that? Like he was some selfish idiot who didn’t already know that? Like he didn’t already hate himself for it?

With a forced breath, he shook his head, pushing everything down, just like he always did. He had a game to focus on.

Without another glance at the benches, he jogged back onto the field, forcing himself to get lost in the only thing that still made sense.

A week after that encounter with Riki, Jungwon found himself in your room. He was doing homework while you sat beside him, pouting at your phone. He glanced at you and smiled.

“What are you grumbling about?” he asked.

You sighed, putting your phone down and continuing with your work. “It’s nothing…”

Jungwon raised a brow. He had never seen you this down before. “What? Tell me. You always tell me what’s wrong,” he pushed.

Pouting, you looked at him with puppy eyes. “It’s Riki… It’s been about a week, and I haven’t seen him or heard from him. Do you think he ghosted me?”

Jungwon stiffened. He had overheard from some guys that Riki had gotten into serious trouble with his parents and now had to work overtime at his part-time job. He sighed, looking at you. You were so obviously heartbroken. Should he tell you?

Or should he be selfish?

This was his chance. He could win you over. He could show you that he was here. That he would always be here.

He gulped, staring back down at his work. He was selfish—just for a moment. But then, he heard a broken sniffle come from you. His eyes snapped to you, watching as you tried to dry your tears, a fake smile on your face as if pretending everything was okay.

His heart dropped. Did Riki really mean that much to you?

Jungwon quickly moved next to you, guiding you to rest your head on his lap. Your cries softened as he gently patted your head, just like he always did.

He looked down at you—your eyes shut, your breathing slowing, the tension in your body fading. And then, softly, he spoke:

“I overheard that he got into some pretty big trouble and is working overtime at his job. He probably didn’t want to trouble you with that stupid mentality of his.”

Your eyes shot open. You turned your head, looking up at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

In an instant, you shot up, grabbing your jacket and shoes. “Gosh, that jerk. Where does he work? I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind. Text me the address?” you said, pacing around the room.

Jungwon watched you, unable to find the right words. He wanted to stop you.

Before you could rush out the door, he stood up and grabbed your wrist. You looked up at him, confused. “Wonnie? What is it?”

“I—uhm.”

This was it. He should tell you now. If he didn’t, it would kill him. But as he looked at you—eager, desperate to see Riki—he exhaled and let go.

“Take your umbrella. It’s raining.”

You smiled, running past him to grab it. “Thanks! Leave whenever you want! And don’t forget to take some leftovers home!”

And just like that, you were gone.

Jungwon stood frozen, staring at the empty space you had just occupied. Slowly, his eyes wandered around your room.

The walls covered in posters. The notebooks scattered on your desk. The lingering scent of your perfume.

It was all so familiar.

His mind filled with memories—the time you both got front-row tickets to your favorite band and shouted while holding hands, the nights he stayed up to bring you food when you were sick, the first time you hugged him while crying into his chest.

And yet, despite all those moments, despite everything he had done for you… he never came to terms with his feelings.

A tear slid down his cheek before he even realized it. He wiped at it absently, staring at his damp fingers in disbelief.

Then, without warning, the tears came faster.

He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to stop them, but his chest tightened, and his knees buckled beneath him. He collapsed onto the floor, hands gripping the fabric of his pants as silent sobs racked his body.

It was too much.

The love he had buried.

The longing he had ignored.

The pain of watching you run to someone else.

He had lost you.

And the worst part?

You were never his to begin with.

[kryptznnn]

Hiya!

I hope you're doing well

I had sorta of a specific request fem! reader x Bakugo first time (nsfw)? Reader and Bakugo known each other since middle school and hated each other's guts but then in the first year of ua thing start to change... Like a enemies to rivals to lovers thingy

And they confess to each other a day before the final war

Now it's several months after that and when Bakugo takes reader for hiking on the weekend but then end up having their first time in the hot springs?

Sorry if it's too much! Thankss!!❤️✨

♛/♡- Take It Easy

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➸ INTERESTS; - aged up! katsuki bakugo x f!quirk-using reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - (requested submission) Before the final war, Katsuki had made you promise to him your safety and future with one another, and you did. It wasn’t expected for either of you however for you to end up in a coma after the battle. After waking up you hadn’t expected everything to take a turn for the better so quickly.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.5.8k, mentions of memory loss, comatose mentions, reader in a hospital patient, fast recovery, angst, fluff, kissing, vacation mentions, smut, p in v, orgasm mention (both f and m), etc.

➸a.i; - im so sorry this is so late oh my god, ive been going through lots of loads but im bulldozing through other works!! bare w me!

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“I love you”

The words echoed in your mind as you sat in your hospital bed, accompanied by concerned family. For the first time ever possibly, you saw your father cry, he never did. The entire situation just an hour ago was intense and very emotional, you hadn’t even known, but apparently you were in a coma.

And not for a short period of time, because when you had asked if it was for a week or a month your mother only scoffed before crying again. Your father was the one to break the news to you saying it had been nearly over half a year. You felt your heart race and breathing begin to quicken when you heard his words, quickly lunging for your phone that had been handed to you and checking the year.

You began to cry, harder than before now when you realized what had happened. After the battle you were fatally injured, but all of your wounds were long healed now, even the scars were faded, but over half a year of your life had been gone. Your family, your friends, birthdays, holidays, memories, all of it had gone to waste.

After your settlement and small discussion with your family you couldn’t help but think about your friends, or more importantly Katsuki. His confession and promise still ringing in your head as before as you sat off and stared into space.

It’s been over half a year, maybe things have changed even more than you thought. He could’ve moved on or even forgot about all of you and everything that had happened. Either that or he was too embarrassed to even see you. A frown quickly appeared on your face as you gripped your covers softly.

Your family immediately took sign of your reactions but before anything else could be said or done, a nurse had soon walked in saying everything had been cleared and you were free to go. As you prepped yourself and changed your clothing you had felt your phone buzz in your pocket, but you hadn’t paid it any mind and continued on with your night.

You helped your family pack the car as majority of your stuff was with you in the room until you had woken up. In all honesty after hearing half a year has passed you were surprised you were still alive, let alone that no one had given up on you during your time period of being here.

As you were on the road with your parents you asked them about it, they had responded saying that over the months you had progressed. Slight movements or even weak speech, and they knew that they still had a shot with you. It was more of you being lost within your own mind during the period, and the possibility of your quirk keeping you in a comatose like state out of fear.

That made sense for a moment, at least satisfactory towards you. As you pulled your phone from within your pocket you had also been given back your old headphones, smiling as you connected them to your phone before playing music. As you went through your phone with messages or social media you were surprised to see hundreds of messages and notifications all in your favor, entirely overwhelming you.

You made it your mission for this week before going to bed every night to speak to each and every single one of them. Speaking of what had happened and that you were back to your full potential and thanking them for their prayers and support over the months. Some of them cried and wanted to immediately come and visit you, but you informed them already that you’d have to clear that with your parents first as they didn’t want you to be too overwhelmed.

After some time had passed you looked over the contact on your phone, hesitating to call you. You had hundreds of missed calls from him, and you wondered why if he knew where you were. Katsuki knew you were in the hospital and your parents never seized to speak of how he would leave his classes just to spend time with you here.

Apparently the first time you seemed responsive in the hospital he was there, and they had seen him smile for the first time. He would read to you, play music for you, and even just speak about his day. Everything hit you as hot flashes or blurs, and you weren’t exactly able to pinpoint the voice to the face from those long nights.

It was slightly surprising to say the least, no one had taken him as the romantic or caring type. Well, you knew he was, that’s what he had told you when he confessed to you before the war, as you did to him. Maybe it was his own way of coping with what had happened, the promise you shared with one another played back in your head.

"I’ll be waiting for you after all of this, I promise I’ll be safe, don’t cry.” He spoke to you, wiping your face slightly before smiling and leaving you behind with the other girls. Now here you sat in your room after half a year from then, different bedsheets and stuffy air, pressing ‘call’ on his contact list.

You listened to your phone ring for a while before checking the time at the top left corner, immediately hanging up once you realized how late it had been. Since the two of you were young, he never slept late, always an early bird. He hated how much you’d lecture and bully him about it calling him a grandpa, and he was always quick to insult you in return.

It was funny honestly thinking back to it all, the two of you seemed to despise one another in middle school, quick to throw insults and even get into physical fights where you’d have to be separated. Over time as you two matured and entered high school it wasn’t missed how the atmosphere seemed the change, your friend groups merging as you two had genuine priorities instead of just messing around with one another.

As much as you tried to avoid him it seemed nearly impossible, the universe going against your wishes and placing the two of you in situations almost constantly. Eventually the two of you had gotten closer and kept the label as friends, and surprisingly Katsuki was the first to come to you, mature enough to apologize for the past and all that’s happened between you two.

You too had apologized for your actions, knowing you were a handful and far from perfect when you were caught on a bad day. It seemed almost so sudden afterwards you couldn’t help but feel an attraction towards him, or possibly the attraction you had prior becoming stronger and transforming into something neither of you had expected.

At first when the others joked and placed the two of you together as a couple for pranks it bothered you, you would deny immediately and move on towards different things as Katsuki only got angry. Sooner than later as the jokes became more and more the two of you had just stopped arguing and defending it, as you thought he stopped because he was tired of it.

For someone who could argue for hours he sure seemed quiet towards the allegations of any romance or crushing happening between the two of you. You would only look away feeling your face warm slightly as you listened to your friends' troubling words, laughing afterwards to look over at Katsuki, who wore a small smile on his lips, only for you.

You tapped your knee before deciding to send him a text instead, hopefully able to read it when he woke up. As you began to type your mind wandered over what might’ve happened over the past year. If anyone had moved or gotten together, maybe by some miracle graduated early and continued with their training to become heroes.

[You: Hey, I know you’re asleep, when you wake up call me? I’m back home now and you’re the only person I haven’t had the chance to talk to]

You reread the message before hitting send, ensuring that was probably the most formatted message you could send. It was also similar to the same things you had said to others on the phone or in text messages to those that couldn’t stay on the phone.

You quickly got ready for bed afterwards as you charged your phone and said your goodnight to everyone before heading off. Surprisingly you fell asleep rather quickly than before, now dozing.

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You awoke to your mother knocking on your door and waking you up. You sat up groggily as you heard her words, slightly slurred in your ears but she ended up repeating herself as you took your covers off.

“You have a visitor, they’re waiting for you downstairs, and also pack a bag, you’ll be on a trip for a while.” She said before waving you off and closing the door to give you privacy.

You cursed mentally thinking of how random the scenario sounded. You had just been discharged a little over 24 hours ago and now you’re going on a trip? It all seemed so sudden to you but to your mother it seemed as if she had already known and everything was planned.

You only shrugged it off and went to the bathroom you had familiarized yourself with before preparing yourself. You soon got ready and washed up before making your way back to your room and began packing. You packed your old clothing, makeup, anything a girl could for any trip imaginable into a suitcase and carry-on bag. Grabbing your other essentials such as your chargers and wallet leaving them in the outside pockets before making your way into the living room.

As you were lost in thought you checked your messages, eager to see who had answered you, or more specifically if Katsuki had. To your dismay he hadn’t, only leaving your message on seen early this morning around 7. You checked the time before announcing your presence in the kitchen, 11:27am.

“Good morning, I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to pack so I kind of packed everything? I got a bathing suit too just in case.” You mentioned awkwardly looking at your suitcase that had dragged behind you before looking into the kitchen to see your mother. She only nodded and pointed towards the dining room, making you leave your bag behind as you peered behind the wall to see your father sitting down chatting with someone.

“Katsuki…” you breathed in disbelief when you saw the familiar haircut of the boy. He turned his head quickly, cutting off your father before immediately pushing back his chair and pulling you into a hug you tightly. To which you hugged him back and practically sobbed into his shoulder, as you quickly pulled back and wiped your face you cupped his face with your hands, examining him.

He had so many new scars you had never seen before, or any that you would remember for the most part. It was so good seeing him, it felt as if you two had spent a lifetime apart. Being around one another since middle school hadn’t helped the fact you were gone for so long either. He wore a sad smile on his face as he looked at you, his hair was different, the same color but he must’ve had an undercut from where you were standing.

Whatever it was it suited him, he’s changed so much and yet so little in just barely a year. You knew it wasn’t the same for you though, if anything from the time you spent in the hospital you had definitely shed a few pounds and your hair had grown longer, not being able to get as much nutrients as you had when woken.

“You haven’t changed, at all.” He spoke, keeping his hands at your sides as he examined your figure and face, you only shook your head and smiled before pointing to the large scar on his cheek.

“I could heal this for you, you know? Don’t have to keep it forever, it changes your face so much.” You spoke as you rubbed it slightly, he shook his head and ushered you to take a seat beside him, your breakfast already being there. You obliged and sat down beside him taking a bit of the food in front of you before he spoke.

“Nah, I like it this way. Plus, everyone else thinks it makes me look badass.” He spoke, nodding to himself out of approval, you only laughed at him, covering your mouth as you ate. Without you even realizing your parents had both left the area, possibly going to the living room or their bedroom who knows.

You finished your food quickly as you listened to Katsuki speak of everything that had happened with him over the past year. He made sure to fill in every detail and not leave out anything, seeing your confused, upset, excited, or disgusted expressions at his words, smirking at each of them.

As you cleaned yourself up and listened to his plans, he had spoken to your parents prior. For when you were discharged, he wanted to take you out properly to celebrate with you, as he had planned too after the battle, but was unable too because of your condition. The dots clicked in your head as to why your mother had asked you to just now pack everything you could as you had a surprise awaiting you.

Till now it was still a surprise, as Katsuki refused to reveal the destination of where you two were headed after you said your goodbyes to your family. You two shared excessive conversation the entire trip, only taking a little under an hour to arrive as he took the highway.

You had been in his car before, only once a twice before hand after his small confession between the two of you. He had taken you out several times, the two of you enjoying the time together, however now felt different. You knew how much had changed, but you just didn't expect you'd been out for so long.

You appreciated how much he tried to take your mind off of it when you confessed how you really felt, feeling as if you lost a large piece of yourself. He never failed to make you laugh and feel as if nothing had changed between the two of you, and honestly it hasn't.

After his confession just days before he had gotten matching necklaces for the two of you. You loved to ridicule him on it, never taking him for the sappy type or extreme lover type of person, but you could see how honestly. Deep down under that tough layer of attitude and hardships was just a caring man, and you appreciated everything he had done. He wasn't afraid to hide it either, he confessed it as he held it between his fingers showing it to you as he drove.

The only time it wasn't out for all to see was when he was out on his minor hero duties, tucking it within his uniform as a safety precaution. By some miracle during the battle, you had kept yours, expecting it to be lost in battle. It stayed on until now, and you fidgeted around with your own as he showed you with a smile before looking out the window to the side, watching the sunset as several colors mixed into the sky.

He opened the window for you, but not entirely. You closed your eyes and rested partial of your head and arm against the window as you felt the wind blow into your hair. It felt peaceful, it was peaceful, you were having so much fun and couldn’t wait for what was in store later on in the day once you arrived at your destination.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"You brought me to a springs resort?" You asked, stepping out of the car raising a brow as Katsuki stood at your door, closing it behind you. He only nodded before going over to the trunk of his car and opening it.

"Yeah, but we'll be doing plenty of stuff this week, wanna get you back in your vibe n' have some fun." He spoke, now getting both your suitcase and bag along with his own, holding them in each hand. You were quick to take your luggage from him as he complained about it, before locking his car and speed walking ahead of you.

You only laughed a small while and followed right behind him, listening closely to his small conversation with the receptionist. You watched him pull out a card that you hadn't recognized before thanking the receptionist and quickly locking arms with you before walking off.

You raised a brow at him as the two of you made it over to the room number you were sure to memorize from the receptionist's words, '163'. You still couldn’t wrap your head around everything that’s happened to you in just the past two weeks from waking up from the hospital.

It was a lot to deal with, and you were surprised with just how well you were handling it. You’d heard of others and even seen movies of how people were after waking from a coma, losing memories, constantly fatigued, practically shifting into a different person, and yet here you were, stronger than ever. Maybe it was your quirk helping you with the most of it, but you felt fine, better than fine, you felt perfect.

Although times have changed and you’ve missed out on a lot of things, to Katsuki you were always there. Even if he was tired throughout his worst days of training or duty, he’d still stop by the hospital just to talk his feelings out.

You admired that about your relationship, the two of you weren’t all loud and public, because that didn’t matter. What mattered was how you too felt about one another and didn’t let anyone come between you two. Katsuki wasn’t a vocal person; he wasn’t the type to be out there or express himself all the time.

He was more of a physical person, the definition of ‘actions are louder than words'. He was never afraid to hold your hand or stick close to you wherever the two of you were, and you loved it. Like right now, how his hands were full as he held luggage from the car and the key to open the door and yet still kept his arm linked with yours.

He let you walk in first and was quick to follow behind you, placing the bags down by the door side and following in your steps. You took time to scan the room before turning to him quickly, a wave of dizziness hitting you before you hunched over holding your head.

He was quick to come to your side, his hands holding your shoulders and ushering you to side down. He knelt in front of you as you sat, caressing your cheek with a hand before placing it on your forehead with a frown.

You quickly swatted his hand away, rolling your eyes and scoffing. Irritation was quick to come flooding into your chest, you were perfectly fine. You’re here for vacation, not to be babied, there’s no way this was happening now of all times.

“I’m fine, I just missed my step.” You said, earning a raised brow from Katsuki, who now sat with his legs crossed in front of you while your legs were planted on the floor from the edge of the bed.

“You missed your step because your dizzy, that move was too quick for you, js take it easy.” He spoke, tapping your knee before getting up to get the bags in front of the door. You only watched him with a slight frown, maybe this vacation wasn’t going to be as much fun as you thought.

You were going to get up, but hesitated, anxiety slowly replacing the irritation in your chest from earlier. You wanted to help, especially with your own bags, even as Katsuki insisted, he had everything handled, it wouldn’t kill him to have a little help.

You only sat there in your thoughts, debating as you chewed on the inside of your cheeks. Initially you gave up with a sigh, now laying flat back down on the bed with a thud, causing Katsuki to perk his head up.

“I’m surprised you haven’t said anything about there only being one bed.” He spoke, you only turned your head and smiled softly, listening to him as he walked out of the bathroom and began checking the drawers in the room.

“I was going to say something before I toppled over.” You spoke in honesty, closing your eyes as you did so. It was the only reason you had turned around so suddenly, prepared to make a joke out of it before the situation escalated far from what either of you two had expected.

You heard shuffling from your side before feeling the bed sink as he sat next to you. You turned your head to look up at him with a smile, to which he returned the favor. Just as you did so a thought popped up in your head that you had no choice but to say aloud.

“Sorry for not being there for your birthday.” You said in a joking manner, nudging him in efforts to laugh with you as you began giggling. You soon stopped and looked at him with a look of regret when his smile formed into a straight line, now turning his head to look at the wall.

Honestly, if he were to speak on the situation, he wasn’t sure if he would be more hurt to see your reaction if he told you what happened or just remembering it all together. Whatever outcome was to show he was sure he wasn’t going to say even a word of everything.

Throughout the whole day you had always asked him how he was doing, and now he was happy, perfect even. He had gotten back the one thing that he couldn’t fathom losing, his mother had always spoken of how some people grieve differently and he never understood until your accident.

Katsuki hadn’t grieved, whether distance relatives who passed which he had to attend their funerals, or past pets that’ve run away, he never grieved. He was so quick to channel any other emotion he was feeling into rage that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself while you were gone.

His parents asked him countless times what he wanted for his birthday, whether it was a new car or anything they could afford. Just to cheer him up they even mentioned having a party or getting his favorite kind of cake, but when his response to what he wanted was you they could only turn to one another with a frown.

For the first time in all of his years of celebrating his birthday he cried. He wasn’t sure as to why he couldn’t stop, but whenever you came to mind, he just couldn’t help it. His entire room was filled with you, framed pictures you’d placed on his dresser, or the shoes and hair ties you’d purposely leave, all of it stayed in his room, always left untouched. Not to mention the fact alone that he went on to call your phone countless times just to hear your voicemail.

That day was also one of the first times he hadn’t come to visit you where you rested, and the guilt nearly ate him alive. It broke his mothers' heart to see her only child this way, and it hurt even more knowing she couldn’t console him and say everything would be alright when she herself didn’t even know if it was true.

So, he decided to close all of it off, not let it go and erase it, there was no erasing it. It was easier holding onto you now and pushing to move forward than hold onto the past of everything that’s happened. He knew all couples went through situations that would impact their relationship, but if strong enough they’d overcome it, that’s simply what’s happening now.

“It’s okay” he spoke, his voice hoarse as he stood up to look outside, seeing that it was getting late as the colors of the sky were drained. He turned to you, now sitting up on the bed remembering his plans for the night. Thankfully the two of you had eaten before arriving here, completing the easiest task before this one.

“Are you okay?” You asked, now getting out of the bed with caution as you made your way up to Katsuki, opening your arms to offer a hug. He cocked his head to the side before smirking at you, leaning over to embrace you before kissing your cheek.

“Did you pack a bathing suit? Got something I wanna show ya’.” He spoke, grinning at you as he pointed out the door, you only nodded to his question, curiosity now gnawing at your brain. “Go in the bathroom and put it on, I’ll wait for you.” He spoke cheerfully you only nodded awkwardly as you went to do so.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You were currently walking blindfolded with Katsuki in front of you, or at least you hoped he was. He was holding your hand tightly as he walked slowly, ushering for you to not remove your blindfold. It was cold, and not just because you were wearing your two-piece bathing suit, but because of the cold air that blew from behind you. You could practically feel the goosebumps ridden all over your skin.

"Y'know I had planned this to be a hiking trip, but I didn't wanna take any risks with ya'." He spoke, now placing both of his hands on your shoulders and standing from behind you before removing your blindfolds. "So, we're choosing the safer option tonight." He finished, watching your reaction as you opened your eyes to see the hot springs in front of the two of you, and surprisingly vacant.

He had explained everything to you in order to calm some of your nerves down, this was simple and sweet, he had planned everything out since before the great battle, but the aftermath pushed back everything. Even so, when he woke up in the middle of the night to see a missed call from you and his other friends texting him about your status, he was quick to rebook his reservation and pay everything off late and let your parents know it early morning.

He was sure this was a perfect idea, it was safe, and the water was warm, of course it was safe, anywhere with him was safe. He too had never let go of your hand, only intertwining your fingers with one another as he smiled at you softly, pulling you deeper into the water until the warm waves clashed against your shoulders and his torso repetitively with your actions.

"You look so beautiful" was all he said, you smiled widely and looked off to the side, nodding as a 'thank you' and placing your hands on your arms crossing them before undoing it as your bathing suit strap loosened and fell. You were quick to toss it back over your shoulder properly before Katsuki took notice of it, raising a brow.

"Sorry, it's kind of loose on me, I haven't worn it in... a while." You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you thought back on everything. It wasn't surprising that in the time that had passed you'd lost weight, but even before hand you hadn't really liked speaking or boasting on your body, now it felt as if things were unfamiliar to you, and you weren't sure how to handle it.

"I'll fix the straps for ya, js' turn around." He spoke, positioning himself upright against one of the rocky walls behind the two of you. You only nodded and obliged, fixing yourself properly against him as you held onto the top of your bathing suit, looking away at anything to ease your mind of the tension that circled you two.

It was normal to have tension, you two were a couple, this is a couple thing. You took a deep breath, exhaling softly as you felt Katsuki's fingertips brush against your back and shoulders, adjusting your straps. He was gentle and his hands were warm, relieving you of the previous goosebumps you had. He had moved your tied hair to the side, gently placing his hand over your neck in a swift movement before lowering himself to kiss you on your upper shoulder, making you shudder slightly.

You gave in of course, being taken by surprise before but now relaxing a bit in his hold, he was quick to lower both hands now, embracing you from behind. You smiled to yourself softly as you closed your eyes and rested your head back on his chest, feeling him press a kiss on the top of your head before speaking.

"I missed you, a lot." He said, you chuckled a bit and shook your head at his words, feeling flattered he felt that way and that you were able to make him feel that way. Honestly if you were to travel back in time to you 10 years ago there was no way you would've expected to get this far with Katsuki, then again here the two of you are.

"Careful, your extra soft sweet spot is showing, thought you wanted everyone to know you're badass." You spoke with a smile, hearing him scoff at your joke as you laughed, he only held you tighter before speaking again.

"I feel more comfortable with you" he said with a sigh, making you frown slightly with sadness. You only turned to him and flashed a smile, letting the guilt that sat heavily in your chest die down as you brought your hands up to his face and caressed it.

"I'm not going anywhere, I swear it." You said sternly, nodding as you looked into his eyes, he only smiled and turned his head to the side, kissing your hand. Without any hesitation he leaned down to kiss you passionately, and you nearly immediately gave in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him in deeper.

He was quick to respond, lowering his hands that were wrapped up around your back lower, underneath your bottom in a way to saddle you up. You jumped slightly and slowly, the water slowing your movements, but it was just enough to get you into his arms and up on him as the two of you continued to exchange kisses.

You were the first to pull away, locking eyes with him as you caught your breath, as he did his as he placed you down back into the water smoothly. You watched as he diverted his eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with you, you quickly followed his face and stood in front of him, smiling and nodding to him.

"Are you sure you're ready?" He asked, his face covered in worry and concern to what you two were speaking of, taking things to the next step. You replied back to him with a firm answer and nodding with a smile again, kissing his cheek as a way to calm him a bit.

Oh, and trust it definitely worked, because as of now he had you pinned against the rocky walls underneath him as your moans echoed in the corner against the warm waves bouncing between the two of you. Your arms were flapped over his shoulders as he kissed your face all over, kissing the corners of your mouth trying to get you to kiss him again as you were distracted, focusing on trying to make this moment last longer before your second orgasm of the night began to build up.

You were also attempting to be as quiet as possible; it wasn't easy when Katsuki was purposely trying to fish noises out of you, angling your hips higher to thrust into you over and over again, grunting into your ear. You were hot and sticky, and your heart felt as if it was bursting out of your chest from such a euphoric moment you haven't went through before.

You were unaware of how much time had passed by but honestly, you wish you could stop time itself just to stay in this moment. Katsuki was so sweet with you, practically babying you through your previous orgasm and doing the same this time, he was so full of passion like you've never seen before.

The pit of your stomach began to tighten again as you dug your fingernails into the sides of his arms and shoulders as he penetrated you, the faint sounds of your sticky flesh clapping against one another echoing against the rocky walls.

"Kats... slow down, I-"

"Easy, easy, you close? I got ya'" He cut off, kissing the side of your face quickly before reaching one of his hands down towards your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion against the water. Your moans grew louder, now clashing your head down against his collar bones feeling your head spin and the heat between your legs get worse.

It hadn't helped that you two were in the water, it had splashed against your clit and nipples numerous times and every time felt more overwhelming than the last. There it was, that heat getting higher and higher with the coil getting tighter and tighter in your abdomen, without a second thought you threw your head back, just an inch away from hitting the rock walls.

It was written all over your face how unstable you had become, how close you were, Katsuki could read it all over your face the same way you could see the same expression on his face. He looked so handsome to you, his eyes shut tight as if trying to concentrate on his own orgasm.

Wrong, he was focusing on holding it in, not wanting to reach his peak before you. He had already taken two breaks before to try and stop the buildup, but he was so tired, his body was giving out, he was certain he wasn't going to last a minute longer. He was right about that, because right after you reached your climax only a few seconds after he was quick to pull out of you, groaning loudly into your shoulder as his body jerked forward.

It had taken a while for the two of you to catch your breath, yours a little longer than Katsuki, making him worry somewhat before coming down from his high. There wasn't a moment shared afterwards between the two of you where there wasn't any skin-to-skin contact, and you loved it.

"Let's finish this night in the bedroom don't you think?"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn 🌸my main navigation

[quintessenceofdust88]

Life is Changin' Tides, ch. 4 🌊

[Ch. 1]

[Ch. 2]

[Ch. 3]

[Read on AO3]

Sal is exactly where Tommy left him; sitting up on the bed, a pained look on his face as he frantically looks around. "The second he spots Tommy and Vivie, his face is taken over with relief, and Tommy can see how desperately he wishes to get up, but he doesn't. He just grips the sheets, staring at them intensely, his face going from anxious to relieved.

"Vivie!" He exclaims, and Tommy's daughter raises her head so fast that he worries she’ll have whiplash."

-

Everyone reunites. There's a lot of apologizing. There's a little bit of oversharing (it's the painkiller's fault).

When Tommy wished for a guardian angel watching over Genevieve, he didn’t think the universe would take him so literally. Because this man, this Evan? With earnest big blue eyes, blond curls, a pink birthmark that looks almost like a heart against his eyebrow? Yeah, that’s an angel he’s looking at.

He doesn’t have much of a chance to look at him, though, because as soon as Tommy thanks him, the man promptly passes out in front of them.

“Buck!” Captain Nash exclaims in surprise, and extends his arms to support him. His eyes are furrowed in concern, and both Hen and Howie are also fussing over Evan. Tommy has never seen this man before, but it’s clear they all know and care about him.

Thankfully there’s an empty bed close, and Nash lays Evan in it with surprising gentleness, in a way that vaguely reminds Tommy of when he puts Vivie to bed. And speaking of which.

Tommy finally manages to stop hugging Genevieve for long enough that he can take a good look at her. Her beautiful yellow dress, a present from his Nonna, is filthy, covered in grime and dirt (thankfully no blood); her hair is matted and frizzy, escaping out of the pigtails Tommy’s done for her this morning, and she looks pale and exhausted. She’s still the most beautiful sight Tommy has ever laid his eyes upon, and he can’t get enough of looking at her.

“Vivie, oh my God, I was so worried!” He admits, placing a thousand kisses to her wet hair, her sweaty forehead, her flushed cheeks. “Are you okay, baby? Does anything hurt?” Tommy asks gently, checking her face and arms for bruises or cuts, but thankfully, probably thanks to this Evan angel, his baby girl looks perfectly unharmed.

“I’m fine, Daddy! But what happened to Mr. Evan?! Is he gonna be okay?!” She asks agitatedly, her arms firmly wrapped around Tommy’s neck. Her blue eyes are looking scaredly at Evan’s unconscious form, and Tommy rubs her back soothingly. Her grip around his neck tightens, seeking comfort that Tommy is more than happy to provide.

Howie, who looks a thousand times less worried once Hen hooks Evan up to a saline IV and it looks like he’ll be alright, rushes to them when he hears Vivie’s question. He smiles sweetly at her, and she smiles a little back at him.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t you worry about Buck, okay?” He tells her. “If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell him? Cause I don’t want his head getting too big.”

That gets a small giggle out of her, and Tommy would hug Howard if he didn’t have an armful of Genevieve. She nods eagerly, and looks curiously at the other man. Frankly, so does Tommy.

“Well, that guy?” He says, pointing at Evan, who still hasn’t woken up, but he’s lying peacefully now, his cheeks starting to get some flush in them. (God, he’s handsome, a treacherous part of Tommy’s brain says, and he promptly tells it to shut up). “Toughest guy I know. He survived a lot of crazy stuff, and he’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“For real?” She asks, and Howie nods as if he’s complete sure of himself.

“Totally for real.” He says, and winks at her. “He’s a survivor, just like your dad Tommy here.”

Tommy feels his cheeks flush, and he smiles gratefully at Howard. Vivie looks between them, curiosity clear in her face.

“You know my Daddy?! How?!” She asks in wonder, and Howie and Tommy smile at each other, but Howie points his hand at him, giving Tommy the chance to explain it to his kid.

“Actually, Vivie, mr. Howard here saved Daddy’s life once, can you believe it? Way before you were born.” He explains, and Vivie gasps.

“So mr. Howard is a hero too?!” She asks, notably impressed, and Howie shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

He’s saved from having to answer, though, because there is a man coming towards them with a boy, a bit older than Vivie, secure in his arms. The boy is looking at Evan, with eyes full of worry, and so is the man. With a jolt, Tommy recognizes him as the paramedic that was taking care of Sal earlier.

“Chim!”, the medic exclaims, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He looks at Evan, who’s fidgeting slightly, but still has his eyes closed, and then back at Howie. “Is Buck alright?!”

“Will Buck be okay?!” The boy asks at the same time, his voice breaking as he sniffles.

His red hoodie is as dirty as Vivie’s clothes, and Tommy realizes he was probably caught in the tsunami too. He wonders briefly if the kid is Evan’s son, but then realizes he probably wouldn’t call him by a nickname if that was the case.

“Hey, Christopher, Buck will be fine, I promise.” Bobby is the one to answer, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s just a little tired right now. But you can sit by his side until he wakes up, what do you think?”

“Can I, dad?” Christopher asks, and the medic that’s holding him nods, then puts him down by Evan’s bed. He takes Evan’s hand in his, gently squeezing it. Hen gently takes the pair of glasses that are hanging from Buck’s neck and places them on the boy’s face, and he smiles at her.

The familiarity between them makes Tommy realize that his father, the medic that took care of Sal, is with the 118, and the coincidence leaves him speechless. What brings him back to reality is the small tug on his shirt, and as he looks at Vivie, he realizes she’s asking him to put her down. Tommy does, and she goes straight to Christopher with a small smile.

“You’re Christopher, right?” She asks, and the boy nods at her, a frown on his face. “Mr. Evan was worried that you’d be mad at him because he lost you. But you’re not, right?”

“No!” Christopher exclaims, as if the mere idea of being mad at Evan is absurd. “He was trying to help people, it wasn’t his fault!”

“I told him that!” Vivie exclaims triumphantly. “I said he was a hero, and that you wouldn’t be mad.”

“How do you know Buck?” Christopher asks her curiously.

“He saved me! When I got lost from…” She trails off, and her little blue eyes widen as if she’s just remembered something important. Vivie turns back to Tommy, and he sees in alarm that she’s on the verge of tears. “Daddy!”

“What, pixie? What’s the matter?” Tommy asks hurriedly, picking her up again and holding her close, but it’s no good, she’s still agitated, clutching his shirt in her tiny hand.

“Uncle Sal got hurt! We need to find him! I was s-so happy to see you that I forgot, but we need to find him! Mr. Evan was going to help me, but now he can’t, and I don’t want uncle Sal to get more hurt!” She sobs against his shoulder, and Tommy shushes her, rubbing circles on her back and bouncing her slightly.

“Baby, it’s alright, shh.” He whispers to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I found uncle Sal.”

She looks up at him, her sobs subsiding and her eyes widened in surprise.

“You did?!”

“Well, not me, but someone did and brought him here. But I’ve seen him, and he’s okay, I promise.” Tommy reassures her, and Vivie sobs once more, but it’s filled with relief this time.

“Daddy, do you promise? Can I see him?!” She asks, and Tommy nods right away.

“Of course you can, pixie. He’ll be so happy to see you.” He promises, and then turns to Howard, who’s been watching them with a fond smile. Tommy shifts Vivie so he can hold her with one arm and extends his hand for him. “Howie. Thank you so much. To all of you. I wouldn’t have found her if I hadn’t run into you” He says, looking at Captain Nash, Hen and the medic whose name he still doesn’t know.

“We’re just glad everything turned out okay, Tommy.” Captain Nash says warmly, and Tommy smiles at him.

Then, he looks at Evan’s still unconscious form on the bed, and back at the captain. He desperately wants to thank the man properly, but he knows Vivie won’t be settled until she sees Sal, and he knows his best friend is probably beside himself, wondering what’s happening to Tommy and her. Nash, however, seems to understand Tommy’s struggle, and nods at Tommy.

“Go. We’ll wait.” He reassures him, and Tommy nods gratefully at him.

“We’ll be back.” Tommy promises, and then he is gone, heading towards his best friend, his daughter safely in his arms thanks to the angel he’s leaving behind.

--

Buck doesn’t wake up all at once. Consciousness comes in small waves; at first he’s only aware of the sounds around him, the low murmur of familiar voices that allow him to come back slowly and steadily. Then, he becomes aware of the throbbing pain on his leg, which is stretched out. That’s how he realizes he’s lying down on scratchy sheets that feel very hospital-like (and yes, he wishes he wasn’t that familiar with what hospital sheets feel like). But as the events of the day come back to his memory, a sense of urgency forces him to full conscience, and his eyes open with a rush.

“Christopher! Genevieve!” Buck exclaims, and only when he tries to sit up on the bed does he feel the tug of a small warm hand against his.

“About time you woke up” Christopher says, and Buck looks at him with tear-filled eyes.

The young boy has his glasses back, and that signature smile that never fails to make Buck happy as well. He can’t understand why he’s still on the receiving end of it after everything that happened, though, or why Eddie is allowing Chris to be near him in the first place.

“Chris,” Buck says, sitting up on the bed, and taking Chris’ other hand in his. Because if this is the last time he’ll be allowed to be around him, he’s going to make it count. “Listen, buddy. I am so so sorry. I should have kept you safe, and I didn’t, and I…”

“Yeah, you did.” Chris argues, looking earnestly in Buck’s eyes, and he feels absolutely vulnerable under his gaze. “You kept me safe from the first wave, and you had me safe in the truck.”

“Yeah! But then I lost you!” He says, worried that Christopher is not understanding how bad Buck screwed up.

“Well, yeah, but you looked for me. A lot. Vivie told me. And she told me you thought I’d be mad, but I’m not. You’re still my favorite grown-up, Buck.”

Chris’ words and the way he’s looking back at Buck, like he’s still a hero, like Buck didn’t fail him, are too much. Buck blinks, trying to keep the tears at bay, but he can’t; the day has been too rough. Chris, however, seems to sense Buck’s emotions are getting the best of him; he wraps his small arms around Buck’s waist, resting his head against Buck’s chest. Buck hugs him back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his curls.

“Thank you, bud. I’m so glad you’re safe.” He whispers, and Chris just hums at him.

“‘Favorite grown-up’, huh? I’m kinda jealous, gotta admit.”

When Buck hears Eddie’s voice, he lets go of Chris and looks up at his best friend, bracing himself for the anger in his eyes. But Eddie is smiling playfully at them, his posture relaxed. As Buck looks around, he faintly notices Hen and Bobby hovering near him, but he can’t talk to them before he apologizes to Eddie; that has to be his priority.

“Eddie! I am so sorry, man, I can’t even begin to…”

“Then don’t.” Eddie says softly, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder and squeezing it. “Don’t even begin, because you have nothing to apologize for. He’s here, and he’s safe, and that’s all that matters, alright?”

Buck can’t take Eddie’s forgiveness yet, not entirely anyway. There’s still too much guilt pooling on his chest, so he decides to focus on something else.

“And Genevieve? Where is she?” He asks, looking around and not seeing either Genevieve or her father. He tries not to be disappointed by the fact they’re gone; he’d have liked to say goodbye.

“Tommy took her to see her uncle Sal, but they’ll be back.” Bobby tells him, and Buck looks at him in surprise at the amount of information in that short sentence.

“You know her dad’s name?!” It’s the first thing he registers, and then the rest of Bobby’s sentence sinks in. “Wait, you found her uncle?! Is he okay? Is he alive?!”

“Calm down before you pass out again, please.” Bobby asks calmly, and then he sits at Buck’s side, his eyes alternating between Buck and the IV still hooked up to his arm. The captain looks weary and relieved at the same time. “As it turns out, the little girl you were helping is the daughter of a former 118 guy, Tommy Kinard. He’s a pilot at Harbor station now. And Sal, her uncle, is his best friend. He used to work with us too, a long time ago. He’s hurt his head pretty bad, but he’s alright”

“Oh thank God. She was so worried.” Buck says, relaxing back against the pillow. Eddie has taken Chris and they are sitting on a stool next to his bed, cuddling together in silence. That fills Buck with relief, and he sighs, closing his eyes for a bit.

He’s still exhausted, and the dull throbbing in his leg is intensifying into stabs of sharp pain. Buck forced his body to the limit, and now he’s paying the price, but he can’t regret it. Not when Chris and Vivie are reunited with their dads.

Before he can voice his discomfort, though, he sees Chimney jogging towards them. He smiles when he sees Buck is awake, and promptly shoves a water bottle and a cereal bar into his hands.

“Welcome to the land of the living, Buckaroo.” He says, patting his shoulder gently. “Eat something, or Maddie will kill us both.”

“Thanks, Chim” He says hoarsely, sitting up on the bed..

Buck eagerly opens the bottle first, taking a big sip and sighing as it eases the pain on his sore throat. As he takes a small bite of the cereal bar, easing his hunger and thirst, his leg decides it’s done waiting for attention. The pain intensifies, and Buck can’t help but flinch a movement that is quickly caught by Hen’s sharp gaze.

“Alright, Buckaroo, finish your snack so we can get some painkillers into your system.” She asks, and Buck, who’d usually stubbornly reject the idea of using painkillers, especially the strong ones that help his leg, just nods meekly; he’s in too much pain. “And then I think you should take it very easy the next few days. It wasn’t your fault, but you pushed yourself way too hard today.”

“Hen’s right, kid.” Bobby adds gently. “Once the painkillers kick in, we’ll take you home, and then you can get some rest, ok?”

Getting some rest sounds wonderful in Buck’s opinion, and he nods at them both, his mouth too occupied with chewing. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now.

“Not so fast, Cap.” Chim quips, and inexplicably smirks at Buck. “He can’t go anywhere before Tommy and Vivie come back and he gets to play the hero.”

Buck blushes at that, but he can’t help a small smile from coming to his lips at knowing Genevieve and her father are coming back. And, with a small leap in his heart, he thinks that his giddiness isn’t entirely about Vivie.

But he’s wise enough to keep that thought to himself.

--

Tommy crosses the field hospital with quick strides, Vivie's small frame a comforting weight in his arms. As they walk around, he notices that things are calming down; there are fewer people around, the doctors and nurses don't seem to be rushing so much, and the overall chaos is more controlled.

Things are settling down, as they usually do after a big tragedy, and Tommy privately thinks they’ll only see how bad it was on the next day. He sends a silent thought for all the people who didn’t have the luck he did, of finding the loved ones they lost to the waves.

Sal is exactly where Tommy left him; sitting up on the bed, a pained look on his face as he frantically looks around. The second he spots Tommy and Vivie, his face is taken over with relief, and Tommy can see how desperately he wishes to get up, but he doesn't. He just grips the sheets, staring at them intensely, his face going from anxious to relieved.

"Vivie!" He exclaims, and Tommy's daughter raises her head so fast that he worries she’ll have whiplash.

The minute she sees Sal, she gasps loudly, and her little hand curls up in Tommy’s shirt, gripping it tightly. Vivie’s staring at Sal as if he isn’t real, as if she’s trying to convince herself that he is.

"UNCLE SAL!" Genevieve's exclamation can be heard through the whole hospital, and she tugs insistently at Tommy's shirt. "Daddy, daddy, put me down, please!", she begs, and Tommy is more than happy to abide.

The second her feet hit the floor, she's rushing to Sal's bed, climbing up on it as fast as her little legs allow. Sal wraps his arms around her, pulling Genevieve to his lap and holding her close. Her arms wrap around his neck, and they hug each other tightly. Tommy can see the tension leaving Sal’s shoulders as he wraps his daughter in his strong arms, and his own heartbeat seems to finally settle as he sees them together.

“Vivie, oh my God! I was so worried, kiddo, so worried!” Sal says, his voice thick with emotion like Tommy’s never seen before.

“Me too, uncle Sal!” Vivie says, and then she looks at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Cause you got really hurt, and then I didn’t see you anymore, and I was so afraid!”

It’s clear that all the events of the day are finally catching up to Genevieve, and she lets out a broken sob, her whole body shaking with it. Tommy’s first instinct is to jump in and get her in his arms so he can comfort her, but he holds back. That’s not what Vivie needs; she needs reassurance from the uncle she almost lost, not from him. And he trusts Sal to do it.

“Hey, hey, shh” Sal soothes her gently. “I’m here, you don’t have to be afraid, kiddo.”

He picks Vivie up, sitting her on his lap, pressing her head against his chest. She clutches his filthy Ramones T-shirt in her tiny fist, and Sal runs one massive hand in her hair, messing it up even further. They’ll wash and braid it again when he puts her to bed, which will happen about a thousand hours later than it should, but he couldn’t care less.

“It was scary…” She admits, her voice a tiny whisper, and Tommy’s heart breaks for her.

Genevieve has always been his brave little girl; the only fear she’s ever had was the dark. Tommy has been able to protect her from that, putting a night light in her bedroom, letting her sleep with him when it gets too bad. But will he be able to protect her from this? From the fear of water, fear of the sea, from the nightmares that she’ll get from this? He doesn’t know, and the thought scares him.

“I know, kiddo.” Sal tells her, bringing Tommy back to the present. “It was scary to me too.”

“I r-really thought I wouldn’t see you anymore, uncle Sal.” She tells him, and Sal exchanges a helpless look with Tommy.

Neither of them wanted her to learn what losing someone feels like, and Tommy would have given anything for his daughter not to have this experience. But it’s happened, and now all they can do is reassure her that everything turned out okay in the end.

Sal takes a deep sigh, and then presses a long kiss to Vivie’s forehead. Tommy can see his eyes are filled with tears, but he does his best to swallow them and smile at the little girl on his lap. “What, and leave all the fun of watching you grow up to your boring dad? No way, kiddo.”

Genevieve lets out a watery giggle at that, looking from Sal to Tommy. “Daddy, uncle Sal said you’re boring!” She gasps, and Tommy smiles wryly, coming closer to them.

“I heard it, baby. Maybe we should let Uncle Sal go home on foot, then? He won’t want a ride with someone this boring after all.”

“Nah, I’ll take it the ride. Even if you’re boring, Vivie is cool.” Sal teases, Sal teases, which makes Vivie giggle in delight and Tommy smack his shoulder (a lot more lightly than he normally would). Then, his expression turns serious, and he looks earnestly at his best friend.

“Tommy. I am sorry, man. I am so sorry.” He says, and Tommy can see he’s about to cry again. Without a word, he wraps his arms firmly around Sal, Vivie caught between them, and hugs his best friend tightly.

“I know. You don’t have to be. What matters to me is that you’re both okay.” Tommy says, and he means every word. Sal pats his back and nods at him when Tommy finishes the hug.

He sits by the edge of Sal’s bed, and Vivie scrambles from Sal’s lap to his, cuddling up against his chest. Her body is heavy against his, exhaustion catching up to her. He holds her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“How are you feeling, man?” Tommy asks, and Sal smirks at him.

“Like I’ve been hit in the head by debris.” He quips, and Tommy glares at him until he shrugs. “Look, I think I’ll be worse in the morning. They gave me good stuff for the pain, so I won’t feel it for real until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, it’d make me a hell lot more comfortable if you spent the night with us. I don’t want you going home alone.” Tommy says, and Sal rolls his eyes, poking Vivie’s arm.

“Your dad is such a mother hen, isn’t he?” He teases, and the little girl giggles. Tommy loves that sound more than anything in the world. “But okay, I think a sleepover sounds fun.”

“Sleepover!” Vivie celebrates, making Tommy and Sal chuckle. Then Sal frowns, as if he remembered something, and a sad expression takes over his face.

“Aw, kiddo, and I still owe you a unicorn, don’t I? Can’t believe we went through all that trouble and you didn’t get him in the end.”

Vivie gasps at that, kneeling on the bed and covering her mouth with her tiny hands. She looks from Tommy to Sal and then to the floor, her eyes widening.

“No, uncle Sal, but I did get him! I protected Marsh, but I forgot him with Mr. Evan! Daddy, we have to go back to your firefighter friends and get him back!”

“We will, baby. Daddy wants to thank mr. Evan anyway.” Tommy reassures her, and Sal frowns at him.

“Mr. Evan? ‘Firefighter friends’? The hell she is talking about, Tommy?” He asks, and Tommy refrains himself from scolding him for saying ‘hell’ in front of Vivie, because she doesn’t seem to pay much attention.

Tommy smirks, already anticipating Sal’s reaction to knowing it was Nash’s team that got Tommy to Vivie. “So, you’re never gonna believe this…”

--

After telling the whole story to Sal and telling him to stay put until Tommy comes for him (‘What, you think I wanna get up and go give Nash a hug and a cupcake? I’m better off here, thanks’), Tommy takes Vivie back to where the 118 was gathered around Evan’s bed.

Sal, who’s much better at keeping up with LAFD gossip than Tommy, has already informed him that Evan is the firefighter who got caught under the ladder truck a few months ago, and that only makes Tommy admire the man even more. He can only imagine how painful it must have been, walking around with a kid all day with his leg still recovering from such a trauma.

When they get there, they’re greeted by the sound of laughter, and the bed is surrounded by Nash, Howie and Hen. The medic - Eddie, according to Sal - is sitting on a stool, with his kid asleep against his chest. They’re all looking at Evan with exasperated fondness and soft smiles.

Evan himself is leaning against the pillow, his leg stretched out in front of him. His cheeks are flushed, and he doesn’t look as exhausted anymore, but his blue eyes are hazy and his smile is a little loopy. Even so, Tommy can’t help but notice he is absolutely gorgeous, and that his earlier comparison to an angel was not too out there; Evan has positively cherubic features, and the fact that he has his arms wrapped around an unicorn plushie only adds to his charm.

“Marsh!” Vivie exclaims the minute she spots the plushie, and everyone turns to them.

Tommy smiles at them in greeting as Vivie tugs on his T-shirt to let her down. Tommy does, and she rushes to Evan’s bed, stopping herself before climbing in it and looking at him shyly. Evan, however, smiles at her, bright and welcoming, and Tommy’s heart skips a treacherous beat. Get a grip, Kinard, you can’t lose it just because he is kind to your kid. He’s probably straight anyway, he tells himself firmly, but his eyes are still taking in the charming scene unfolding in front of him.

“C’mere, Vivie.” Evan says, and it’s the first time Tommy’s hearing his voice. It’s warm, and cheery, even though his speech is a little slurred, probably from everything that happened.

He pats the mattress next to him, and Genevieve doesn’t need to be told twice. She climbs up on the bed, and Evan offers the unicorn to her. “Your friend was missing you, you know?”, he tells her with a lovely smile.

“You kept him safe for me, Mr. Evan! Thank you!” She says in wonder, hugging the plushie close to her chest. Then, she looks at Evan, and puts the plushie aside, kneeling on the bed and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his flushed one. “And thank you for keeping me safe. You made things not so scary, and you helped me find Uncle Sal.”

It’s clear the heartfelt thanks from the five-year-old takes Evan off-guard, and he’s slow on his reaction. Still, he wraps his arms around her, closing his eyes in delight, gently stroking her hair.

“You’re quite welcome, baby. Having you with me made things not so scary too, so thank you. For helping me to get here.”

The others are all watching the scene with a mix of fondness and amusement. Tommy himself could forever stand there and watch this ridiculously adorable man interact with his kid, but he can’t; he has his own thanks to give. He approaches the bed slowly, and both Vivie and Evan look up at him. His daughter promptly holds the unicorn up so Tommy can see it. It’s wet, and filthy, but he guesses it’s still sort of cute.

“Look, Daddy, this is Marsh! Uncle Sal got him for me!” She tells him excitedly, and Tommy chuckles, bending down to kiss her forehead.

“Marsh looks like a great addition to your plushie friends, baby. He’ll probably look even better after we give him a bath.” He muses, and Vivie giggles, going back to stroke the plushie’s fur gently.

What surprises Tommy, though, and apparently everyone else, is that Evan giggles right along. Tommy refuses to acknowledge how adorable it is to see this 6-foot-2 man giggling along with his five-year-old.

“Isn’t that funny, though? A unicorn taking a bath? It should be a glitter bath at least.” He says, and then laughs at his own joke. His friends are looking at him in amusement, and Hen crosses her arms, smirking.

“I guess the painkillers are kicking in, huh, Buckaroo?” She says fondly, and Evan tries to handwave her, but the gesture is a tad bit clumsy.

“M’fine!” He exclaims, and then he runs a hand on Vivie’s plushie, looking at it in wonder. “Oh my God, he is so soft! Eddie, have you ever seen a softer plushie?”

Eddie snickers, and so does Chimney. Bobby is staring at Evan with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. And Tommy? Tommy is trying very hard not to melt from the sheer cuteness.

“Tommy, if you have anything to say to him, I think you should say it now, before we completely lose him.” Chim recommends with a chuckle, and Tommy startles. He does have something to say.

He turns to Evan, and the man has a loopy smile on his face, looking at Tommy with hazy eyes filled with something that he can’t quite define, but it makes Tommy blush furiously. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, and forces himself to look the man in the eye.

“Mr. Evan”, he starts, and the man frowns, as if something isn’t quite right about that greeting.

“No mister. You can call me...” He trails off, as if he’s looking for the right word, and then he smiles at Tommy as if he’s had the brightest idea ever. “Evan! Yeah! You can totally call me Evan.”

“Evan, then. I’m Tommy. Tommy Kinard.” He says, offering a hand, and Evan shakes it.

His hand is warm against Tommy’s, even if his handshake is a little wobbly. The moment they touch, Tommy feels as if a spark of electricity rushes through him, as cliché as that sounds. Evan must feel it too, because he looks up at Tommy with raised eyebrows.

“I know, Bobby said. I’m your re… re… Ah, it’s a big word, but I entered the 118 when you left. Small world, huh?” He says, with a tiny frown between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to make sense of it, and Tommy has an irrational urge to kiss it away. He doesn’t, but it’s a near thing.

“Very.” Tommy agrees, and then he sits down by Evan’s side. Even if he’s not entirely aware of what’s going on, Tommy needs to thank him. “Evan, I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did. Vivie is my life, and you saved her. There are no words to express how grateful I am.”

Evan seems to take a while to process his words, but then he shrugs modestly. He looks down at Vivie and tries for a wink, but it comes off as more of a sleepy blink. Tommy’s daughter giggles anyway, holding Marsh close to her chest.

“Ah, you don’t have to thank me, you know?” He slurs. “I did what everyone would do.”

“No, you didn’t.You did way more. You kept her safe, and you protected her, and you brought her to find her uncle.” Tommy tells him firmly, taking his hand in his and squeezing it. He tries to ignore the goosebumps it brings to his arms. “I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. But if there is anything I can do for you, ever, you just have to say the word.”

Evan nods, but stays silent. His hand is still wrapped around Tommy’s, and he looks down at them for a moment. Then he looks back at Tommy, his blue eyes determined.

“I mean, you could ask me out!” He exclaims, and everyone turns at him, eyes widened, including Tommy. He’s so surprised he doesn’t remember to separate their hands.

“I… I could… W-what?” Tommy asks, sputtering and feeling a blush covering his cheeks and all the way down to his neck (nice going, you idiot). It doesn’t help that half his former team is watching it with smirks on their faces.

“You could ask me out!” Evan repeats it, his brows furrowing as if he can’t quite understand what’s giving Tommy pause. “You’re ridiculously gorgeous, you know that? I’d say yes if you asked me out.”

Tommy is left completely speechless and wishing that the floor would swallow him whole. Captain Nash is looking at Evan with that same fatherly exasperation of before, and Eddie and Howie are shaking with silent laughter. Not even Vivie helps; the minute Evan says he’s gorgeous, her daughter starts giggling uncontrollably, looking between them with way too much amusement. Hen is the only one who seems to take pity on the two of them, because she puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder.

“Alright, Buckaroo, that’s enough out of you! Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“Can’t sleep, Hen, I’m going out with the hot pilot. Weren’t you paying attention?” He grumbles, but as Hen helps him lay back, he closes his eyes, resting back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

Tommy is flustered, and shocked, and impossibly endeared. He wants to ask Evan out, he wants to do it now, but he won’t hold a man accountable for things he said under heavy painkillers.

“Daddy, are you going out with mr. Evan?” Vivie asks, and Tommy, if possible, blushes even more. He takes one more look at Evan’s face, eyes closed and a small smile still playing on his lips, and he desperately wishes to tell her that yes, he will.

“I… No, baby. Mr. Evan didn’t really mean it, he’s just sleepy. It’s like when you say silly things in your sleep, remember?” He tells her, and she nods, but looks absolutely disappointed. “Besides, we have to pick up uncle Sal and go home, don’t we? It’s way past your bedtime. Say goodbye to everyone and let’s go.”

She does as she’s told, sparing a hug for everyone and making Eddie promise she and Chris will have a playdate soon (Tommy actually likes the idea; Vivie has plenty of friends, but she could always do with more). He agrees to set it up and says his own goodbyes, shaking everyone’s hands. When it comes to Chimney’s turn, though, he smirks at Tommy and slips a paper into his pocket.

“Here’s Buck’s number and address. You know, just in case you wanna check if he meant it or was just being silly.” He says with a knowing smirk, and Tommy looks at him in surprise. Howie shrugs, and then goes back to talking to Hen.

And Tommy should throw the paper away, he really should. Evan is probably straight; Tommy has a daughter and hasn’t really dated in years. Everything tells him this is not a good idea.

He folds it carefully in his pocket anyway.

Tag list:

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21

@dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld @buckleyskinards @actuallyitsellie

@agentpeggycartering @chaoticdisasterbi

@deelovesbooks @teabroomsandbooks

[werewolf-kat]

Was about to write in tags, but there’s actually quite a lot I do want to add onto this for educational purposes. Stuff that more people should be aware of if they don’t keep up with how technology is used and what companies or those in power seek out of it.

I’ll say upfront: it won’t matter if you individually don’t believe this is happening or think it’s paranoid to believe it’s happening at a mass scale. (I see this expressed a lot when news like this comes out, and people want to be “not scared” about it.)

Companies with access to user data genuinely collect as much as they can because it makes them money. They can target key words in your posts - private or not - to put into their algorithms for advertising. A lot of specific data can be pretty much saved or traded around forever because it’s valuable like gold for companies involved with tech or social media. I have to emphasize again: our personal information makes bank regardless of political leanings or moral standings. Names, addresses, interests, hobbies, job history, and so on.

This is an open secret among anyone who has worked or trained under companies with internet/tech-based connections. If you want to do your due diligence in looking at the sources, here are many proven/discovered cases of data that was collected and saved by companies for whatever “use” they have for it. This includes information taken from literal children despite laws like COPPA here in the US.

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)

More on Google in particular.

And a whole thing about data brokers (by some guy selling courses for this shady stuff).

Anyone making a website can use Google-created advertising code quite easily. This is why lots of sites might feel shady or without filters for their ads. It’s just there in the wild, being wild. The website may not get your data for the ads, but it sure is feeding Google more this way.

On top of this, any average person with some bucks to spare can buy data they’re looking for too. Whatever’s linked to your online alias, or emails you’ve used in accounts... Those can be found behind a paywall. I don’t want to share those sites here, but they’re terrifyingly easy to find if you search some basic terms for them.

Also beware that some aspects of user information stored on servers won’t be secure against malicious hackers. There are malicious hackers who break into this user data, take it hostage, and put bounties on their own unlawful collections. The basis of our information (emails, names, passwords, etc.) being of value, extends to these internet “rogues” as well.

Security for any server costs HUGE money to maintain and truly prioritize. The experience and knowledge needed from each employee and the mere importance of their role will demand massive pay. You can’t even trust a company as big as Google from the occasional security breach when they let their guard down. In the situation I linked, Google kept that particular breach a secret from the public for as long as they could. They weren’t transparent about it.

Now, when it comes to terrible laws and power trips that cops are happy to enforce, they can very often request social media companies to hand over any “evidence” and data that’s needed for police investigations. This can be helpful for truly important cases (sexual assault, murder, etc.); but it can be used for criminalizing people under laws of “moral righteousness” like this anti-abortion nightmare the U.S. is in right now.

It’s not a matter of how much of your data can be read by humans. You think humans are doing the reading anyways? Everyone agrees that’s impossible. That’s why it’s done by programmed systems.

I’m moderately experienced in JavaScript, but even in that language I’m aware of “Reg-Ex” (Regular Expression) and string/integer matching. All programming languages - to my knowledge - are capable of searching for key words. That’s what I meant earlier by algorithms that target “key words.” The company can give a list to their developers for words to include in the program, and then the program will do the searching. At an advanced level, these go into algorithms that are always “learning” and in-taking related words that come up as a pattern related to what was first entered in by the human programmers.

Not to mention, it’s not limited to text. At my lower level of programming, I’ve already tinkered with speech recognition API for personal projects (which Google unfortunately runs that API for JavaScript). It was fairly good - albeit not perfect either - at picking up what words I’m saying after the sentences complete. It screws up when my voice is too slurred due to my weird mouth muscles I guess? (My pronunciations can be real loose at times...)

There’s accessibility software where you speak into it, and it outputs text for you on a digital device such as computers. That’s been around a LONG time. The technology has been there for ages. It’s used in automatic Closed Captioning that you may see plugged onto live Twitch streams too, for example. And it’s good for accessibility!

But greedy/creepy companies use this for teaching their algorithms too. You still gotta look out for what you say around your own phones, laptops with built-in mics you can’t physically unplug, your Amazon Echoes, Google Homes, and so on.

There isn’t realistically some shady voice-listening center or any group of humans that can access/read through the data collected from millions of people in different languages and countries. We can all agree on that to an extent, I hope.

What is realistic, is that they have shady algorithms programmed to do it for them.

So don’t settle on “you’re paranoid if you think humans can keep up with all this information.” We’ve been in a technological era for a few decades now, and it advances faster than we can protect against these days.

Before recommending encrypted services, however, there’s more I should add:

You gotta research the company and any ties it may have to other companies or governments in the background. Just because something’s encrypted, doesn’t mean it’s actually safe and trustworthy.

Here’s a video on the early history of encryption (cryptography/ciphers) and how a government agency had a choke-hold on it during wars and disputes:

There’s also this article about powerful encryption that can be requested to be purposefully weakened for the sake of criminal investigations. It’s a mixed bag of helpful and harmful effects of encryption that really can’t be touched easily if at all.

It would be helpful to dig into a proven murderer’s messages or other data that they wanted to hide. This will provide a strong case in their court trial (based in what I know generally about the US legal system) when evidence is needed for their motive, or a possible premeditation level of heinous acts.

But it can also do harm in places where the law (or power-tripping cops) want to target marginalized, “inferior” groups of people.

Communicating online or around internet-connected devices with microphones, it’s nearly impossible to avoid grabbing the attention of those in power who see marginalized people as threats. If you’re seeking abortion and need help getting one, please don’t immediately trust any encrypted service you see. The same goes for anyone in a state that’s taking away their rights to medical care (such as the threat to trans health and freedom).

I understand the situation is beyond stressful; and it’d be mentally taxing as well as time consuming to find something with the lowest risk of being a target by police agencies. You still matter and your safety matters. Tread your path among these oppressive landscapes carefully.

Some “support groups” might even have one or be made entirely of undercover cops wanting to rat people out. Just, you really can’t know people out there.

I don’t quite feel qualified to give any specific advice, though. This is the best I can confidently give. I hope the information here gives direction in your own research and the resources you seek out. Wishing you safety and comfort out there.

Facebook and google are helping cops prosecute people seeking abortion. Be very careful in this new era people.

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Finally properly sobbing after not being able to cry all day is such a great feeling

[clockwayswrites]

The Birdritch's Nest part 25

masterpost

“That is a lot of plants,” Jason said. He swept his eyes over the space as he slipped his lock picks back into their little pouch.

“He has a botanist friend, apparently, and she keeps giving him plants,” Dick explained as he squeezed past Jason and into the apartment.

“Why are you here again?”

“Because I have a car which is better to carry all of Danny’s stuff in than your bike,” Dick explained. He went over to the wall of plants in front of the windowed corner and squinted down at something on his phone.

Jason pulled out his own phone to glance at what Tim had sent. “You say ‘all Danny’s stuff’ like the list was long. The guy hasn’t exactly been demanding.”

“The ‘guy’ expects to actually go home in a few days,” Dick pointed out.

“And is an adult and so can, you know, actually go home,” Jason retorted.

“Damian’s attached.”

“…I concede to your point,” Jason said once that thought sunk in. “Double the clothing asked for?”

“Basically. Make sure that he has a weeks worth, Alfred can always do laundry,” Dick said before letting out a little noise of triumph and doing something over by the plants. “There, watering system turned on.”

“Congratulations, you’re a genius,” Jason drawled. “Now go get his medication gathered up and snoop a little while you’re at it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be snooping,” Dick, words a teasing sing-song as he passed by.

Jason flicked him off. “Like you wouldn’t anyways. I just want to know what you find.”

“Only if you tell me what you find in the bedroom.”

“Deal.”

The bedroom was almost startlingly normal after the plant filled living main room. It didn’t look like Danny really spent much time in it beyond sleeping. The bed was absentmindedly fixed, a black down comforter over pale blue sheets. There was a paperback on the nightstand next to a lamp and a pocket sized notebook with a pen clipped onto the bent and battered cover.

It was the first thing that Jason picked up.

The notebook was obviously where Danny made notes when he was already settled in bed. As Jason flipped through the pages there was everything from to-do lists to invention ideas to… a lot of thought about wings. Jason turned the notebook in his hands. That page wasn’t in English. The language felt like it was on the tip of Jason’s tongue but he just couldn’t get it out.

Maybe some sort of dialect?

Jason couldn’t actually read it, but there was enough to piece together from similarities that tugged on his memory. Enough to understand it was about the wings. Something about the process of change? Aging?

“Hey Jay?” Dick interrupted, scattering Jason’s thoughts. “Can you read the label on these bottles? There’s some serious printing issues happening, I can’t even tell what language it’s in.”

The pill bottle felt oddly cold in Jason’s hand when he took it from Dick, but maybe the bathroom just had shit heating in this place. It would be just like Gotham builders to mess that up.

“Oh, that’s the same thing Danny is writing in here,” Jason said passing the notebook to Dick. “It’s something about wings and getting old, I think, but I can’t really read it.”

“Read it? I don’t even know what it is. Gives me a headache just to look at it,” Dick grumbled as he flipped through the notebook. “The whole bird thing has really been on his mind, hasn’t it?”

Jason gave a little huff. “Do you blame him? The guy has wings now. It would be on my mind too.”

“Yeah… guess I really can’t,” Dick said and snapped a picture of the page with the unknown writing to send to the group chat. “Any idea what it is?”

“Nope. It’s like it’s a distant dialect or that it uses some of the same alphabet of something I learned some of once. Like how Chinese and Japanese use some of the same characters, you know?” Jason explained as he opened the side table drawer and then quickly closed it again. That was more than he needed to know about Danny. “Maybe something from when I was catatonic in the league, who knows. There were a lot of languages in that place.”

“Cass or Damian might now it then,” Dick said as he eyed the drawer Jason had now moved away from.

“Don’t, trust me,” Jason said. “Did you get the medications you needed to grab?”

“Yeah, they’re in the bag. Just a standard bathroom, really. Though he keeps his toothbrush in this old mug with a hero I don’t recognize on it, someone called Phantom.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but it sure sounds like a hero name. Add it to the list,” Jason said as he started on gathering up the requested clothing and extra enough to last a week. “Check the closet to see if there are any shits in there that work around wings.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Dick threw the closet doors open dramatically and focused on his task. Jeans, sweatpants, underwear, what he guessed was pajamas were all added to the bag.

“So, nothing that looks like it was made for wings,” Dick said and tossed some normal shirts and a few sweaters into the bag. Jason sighed and folded them neatly. “Maybe he hasn’t had time to find any yet? It hasn’t been that long since the bird thing and seems it all started there. Or maybe he’s just always home when he’s had then?”

“Better let Alfred know then. He’ll want to get something as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, good point,” Dick agreed.

While Dick stepped out of the bedroom to call Alfred, Jason took the time to double check the list. It really was pretty basic. Jason didn’t know if Danny was just trying to not be demanding or if the guy didn’t need much, but Jason went ahead and put the bedside paperback and notebook in the bad too. Jason slung the duffel bag Dick had brought over his shoulder (he totally could have ridden his bike like this) and took a little bit of time to snoop through Danny’s bookcase while Dick finished the call. Sci-fi, horror, old text books, and a ton of notebooks filled the shelf with knickknacks and a few figures. Jason at least had to give Danny points for having some of the sci-fi classics, even if the range of works was pretty limited.

“Okay, Alfred is on it,” Dick said. “Anything else we need to do?”

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Jason said. Something made him not want to look through the notebooks, like they had already done enough snooping. It was an odd feeling. “Let’s get going, I’m hungry for whatever dinner is.”

“You’re always hungry,” Dick said.

Jason shrugged rather than dealing with how true that statement was. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re a trash pit.”

“Yeah, you want to go there, cereal boy?”

“Leave my cereal out of it!”

---

AN: I do love writing Dick & Jason so much. Can you tell I have an older brother? Also sorry for the mistakes I'm sure are abounding. Guess who turns out to be anemic? This critter! Maybe getting that fixed will help...

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bat-Boys in Bed

I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me

Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.

He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.

I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.

Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”

I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.

He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.

Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.

He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.

I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.

Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.

Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.

I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).

This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.

Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.

You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.

Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.

Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees—to no avail.

Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.

I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.

That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.

Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!

Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.

[goldenstring6123]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNXxJ8TM/

THIS IS SO CUTE PLS I CAN SO CLEARLY SEE THE LADS MEN DOING THIS 😭 and the comment section had me dying where is evb finding these MEN 😔🙏

Lnds: Sleepy time!

Warning: No warnings, afab!reader, fem!reader

Authors note: Fluff (not a lot of it) and a bit of domestic stuff.

Sylus:

It had been 30 minutes since you left the bedroom. Sylus was already well on his side of the mattress, reading the news while waiting for you to come back. He thought you were just up and about doing your normal routine of drinking herbal tea and doing skincare, but it was taking you far longer than usual.

He settled the tablet down on the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom. He searched for you in every room he passed by, and when he arrived at the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, there you were, perfectly tucked in under the unused duvet.

You were curled into a ball and too engrossed in the video you were watching; you didn't even notice the black fuzzy threads wrapping around your weird curled-up position. You lifted off from the bed, and when you came to, the view was of Sylus' back as you involuntarily made your way back to his bedroom.

"So you're not going to put me down?" you asked, paying attention to the video again. "Are manners not a thing anymore?"

The brooding man didn't spare you a glance. "I'm not open for discussion. You're supposed to sleep in my bedroom. Our bedroom."

"I just wanted a bed all to myself," you uttered. Here you were, planning what to watch and what to eat for the whole night, and this guy managed to foil it.

"I don't share the same sentiment, sweetie. You have the bed every time I'm overseas on a work trip. It's even infested with your colorful pillows," he opened the door to the bedroom and reeled you in, gesturing to your side of the bed which had vibrant pillows and bed 'pets,' as you like to refer to them.

"You really can't sleep without me, can you, Mr. Big guy? Afraid that someone's under the bed or something?"

"I'm more afraid that you're going to ravage my food pantry when you're not in my line of sight."

"The guest bedroom is nowhere near the pantry and I don't ravage it—I simply take a few snacks," you clarified. "Greg would be sad if the food spoils."

"Either way, you sleep in my bedroom or my couch, nowhere else, sweetie."

"Admit it: You like my company, don't you?" You gave him a cheeky grin.

"Yes, yes," Sylus agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You make a good meat shield when we get attacked in this bedroom."

"Oh wow. Reduced to a shield." You rolled your eyes in return and slipped under the covers. "That's Onychinus' leader for you."

"Right. Are you done now? I still have an early schedule for tomorrow."

"Alright, alright. I'm heading to bed now. You can sleep."

"Good. Now come here." Sylus opened his arms and you found yourself huddled right into it like it was the perfect mold. You shifted a bit and could feel his muscles relax against your back.

"Why did you feel the need to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Sylus asked under his breath.

"I was planning on reading comics all night. Tara recommended a new romance comic which I like, but knowing you, you'd probably take my phone away."

"Then it looks like I will be the bad guy tonight."

"Maybe. Until you fall asleep." You shrugged.

You hear the handcuffs being pulled out.

Shit.

Xavier:

3:02 AM, it says on the clock. You weren't on the bed. It was cold and it was proof that you never went on it, which was odd considering you told sleepy little Xavier that you were going to stay over. Poor little tired hunter was exhausted after a day's work and couldn't help but doze off while watching you do your little night ritual of moisturizing and doing a facemask.

Xavier sat on the side of the bed, letting out a big yawn. He didn't know where you were, but all he knew was that he didn't like being alone. From his palm, a faint whirlpool of light emanated, enough to guide him through his dark abode. His first thought was maybe you were watching in the living room. You weren't there. He then headed to the small bedroom right beside his, a spare one for guests, but it went unused when you both shared the same bed now.

He tried his best to quietly open the door. There he saw a little bump on the mattress and it made his heart squeeze; you were adorable and looked so small. Xavier tiptoed and folded the blanket away from you. He took a deep breath and lifted you up bridal style, pressing you against his chest.

"hm?…Xavier?" you slurred, vision dark and blurry.

"I'm moving you to our bedroom," he kissed the top of your head and continued his journey to the other room.

"You were sleeping," you paused, looking for the word. The drowsiness didn't seem to go away. "didn't want to…disturb you."

Xavier wanted to say something, but he and you both arrived at the side of the bed. He gently laid you down and placed a pillow between your limbs, which you automatically hugged. Xavier crawled to his side of the bed and yanked the cover over the both of you. Though you both weren't exactly touching, the little hunter's heart eased at your presence.

Gladly, he went back to sleep, hoping to maybe see you in his dreams.

Zayne:

Zayne's house was far too quiet when he arrived. It was only 7 o'clock, and by then you'd usually be in the kitchen, peeking your head out with a ladle in hand. There was no "welcome back" nor a simple "hello," but what did he expect? You were mad at him.

It's a shallow fight, really. Zayne decided to put you on alcohol time-out and took your hidden beers that you were so ready to drink after a grueling day at work. Zayne's judgment was far better than yours because when you get drunk beyond mental capacity, you tend to make a mess of the house, and you turn into a rage-filled, feisty lady. Moreover, you'd been chain-drinking for the whole week, and Zayne was getting concerned because you kept having hangovers.

His hands twisted on the knob to the little library of his house, where he would always find you on nights like these. There you were, curled in the lazy boy sofa and turned away from him. You were awake, but you didn't want to look at your lover.

"I'm home," Zayne declared.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Heat it up," you responded and closed your eyes. Zayne's footsteps grew closer and closer to you, and you felt his palm land on your shoulder.

"Your back will hurt if you sleep in that position."

The sofa might look soft and admittedly it's pretty comfortable to sit on for a long period of time, but with the curled-up position you have, it was bound to hurt when you fall asleep.

"I'm perfectly fine," you replied.

"Don't be stubborn." Zayne decided to pick you up. You wanted to thrash and get out of his grasp, but then you would look childish.

"I don't want to be with you tonight."

Zayne kept his lips in a thin line. He's more than aware that you're saying that because you're mad, but still—It hurts to hear it from you.

Gently, Zayne settled you in the middle of the bed. "I'll sleep in the living room. Stay here," he whispered and tucked the blanket over your shoulders. It was dark in the bedroom, so you couldn't exactly see him. You rolled over to face away from your lover and patiently waited for him to leave.

1:34 AM. You couldn't sleep. A can of beer would do you some good, but your tongue wasn't craving the bitterness of it. Instead, your mind looped over to a few hours ago when you said something that you didn't mean. It was harsh now that you think about it.

Now Zayne is keeping his distance from you. The owner of the house is sleeping on the couch.

With two pillows and a blanket in hand, you made your way down the flight of mahogany stairs. The living room was in full view, and Zayne was fast asleep on the couch. You nudged the two ottomans to the space between the coffee table and the main sofa. Then you threw the pillows and spread the blanket wide, letting it flutter down while you made yourself fit on the ottoman chairs.

You left a few spaces between you and Zayne, one that was filled by the cold pillow.

2:46 AM. Zayne stirred awake and found a blanket draped over his body. Beside him was his supposedly angry lover, clutching the hem of his shirt. He stared up into the chandelier above and took the pillow that was bordering between them, used it as his own, and pulled you closer, nudging the blanket over both of you even more.

Rafayel:

He's standing by the doorway, tapping his foot while a plushie was tucked under his armpit. He was frowning, and you could even see it through the dark.

"What?" you asked, shining the phone his way.

"So you're going to leave me alone tonight? Is that how you're going to play?" He was mad-mad, but that's why you were confused.

"Hey, drama king—you were complaining earlier in the day about my bad sleeping habits—I'm giving you the bed now so you can be at ease, but now you're mad at me again. Do you want me to sleep on the floor of your bedroom or something?"

"Duh? Of course not. I'm just complaining because it's true, but I never said you should sleep in the guest room."

"Then are you going to be alright with my sleeping habits?"

"No."

"Then sleep alone."

An audible gasp could be seen on the expression of the Lemurian. He looked so offended with the end of the conversation, but you weren't having it, so you plopped back onto the bed and hid under the covers, hoping that he'd go away.

The moment you peeked back out, you were rapidly crushed under heavy weight, making you sink to the bottom of the bed. Rafayel lay spread out on top of you, keeping you in your position and crushing you underneath him.

"Get off me! You're heavy!" You struggled underneath the blanket, nudging him and kicking him, but he pretended to be a dead body floating in the water. Rafayel kept still; if verbal convincing won't work, then he'll have to make you change your mind.

"Fine! Fine! I'll sleep with you!" you screamed. He rolled to the side, propped his elbows up, and rested his head on his palm. You just wanted to rub that triumphant grin off his face. He happily scooted underneath the blankets and hogged your side of the bed, wrapping his hand around you and shutting his eyes.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it further and decided to head to bed as well.

You were stirred awake by a strain in your neck. The lids of your eyes lifted at the electrifying pain that traveled to your head. You squinted, barely able to process the faint blue outside the window. Your body was spread out again, and nearby you could see Rafayel making use of the awkward space he was left with.

Guilt washed over your tired body.

Without much thought left, you held onto two pillows and let your body slip down to the carpeted floor. You hugged the pillow and placed another one under your head, liking the furry texture that brushed the side of your bare arms and legs. You closed your eyes again and let the tiredness wash over you.

It was cold for a summer morning. A large yawn escaped your lips and you patiently waited for your eyes to focus, and when they did, your eyes widened immediately at the beautiful sight of a sleeping Lemurian. Rafayel, too, was now on the floor, using his own arm as a pillow.

You tapped on his shoulder, and he just pulled you down back to the floor. "Five more minutes," he groaned, burying his face in your collar. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and you didn't have to go to work. You could indulge him in the meantime.

Author's footnotes: lol the tiktok was very cute, something that you'd see in a rom-com enemies to lovers sort of romance story. It would be a pretty redundant snippet if every situation is the same for the love interest so I took the liberty of changing things a bit.

Layout by me, using Canva Premium | Do not repost

[sweetteainthesummerx]

it's nice to have a friend !

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairings: jack hughes x shy!reader, jack hughes x bsf!reader, nico hischier x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

warnings: mutual pining, fluff

summary: you gain a best friend and a lover, all in one !

song: it's nice to have a friend by taylor swift

word count: 3.3 k

notes: I love me a reformed bad boy! this is based on this request: here. I hope you like it!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

school bell rings, walk me home, sidewalk chalk covered in snow, lost my gloves, you give me one

"are you okay, miss?" a voice asks from behind you, and you jump.

it's a boy. he's real pretty, features the perfect balance between masculine built and delicate feminine.

you're so sure that you're fifty shades of red right now, but he smiles kindly at you.

"sorry, it's just you look really cold." he points at your hands, and the fact that your teeth are chattering.

you realize that you're still silent.

you hate that you're so painfully shy. it's especially hard after you moved from your hometown for work, where the little amount of friends had to bid you goodbye with worry.

sure, you talk to your coworkers, but it's not the same.

"I-i'm okay." you try to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.

jack, you find out his name is, was raised by his mother to never leave a lady in distress (you almost laugh at that). he offers you his gloves, still warm from his own hands. you thank him quietly, and he grins wide, "you're welcome, sweetheart."

the sidewalk is still covered in snow, but he walks you back to your apartment building, where the two of you find out something else you have in common: you're practically neighbours.

he lives only 4 or 5 doors down from you.

he drops you off, brushing your fingers with his own bigger ones as he tells you to come find him if you need anything at all.

as he watches you enter the safety and warmth of your own apartment, he frowns.

why would he do that? normally he wouldn't care about this kind of stuff, but you looked so cold and down.

so when you offered him that sweet, shy smile, he melts despite the cold jersey weather.

it's weird, because you're very pretty, but he doesn't have the itch to fuck you and leave you.

he wants to know why you're here, what you do, you're favourite colour.

his phone dings with the notification of some instagram model he met up with a week ago. he sighs, turning back from his own door to go meet her.

for some reason, he doesn't want to go.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

"wanna hang out?", yeah, sounds like fun, video games, you pass me a note

you bite your lip, and retract your hand once more. you want to knock, but you...

just do it! you tell yourself, and you knock quickly, wincing.

a boy who is decidedly not jack answers the door.

"uh, hi?" he's tall, with curly hair and a lanky body.

you freeze up a little.

fortunately, jack pops up from behind.

he calls your name, with excitement and surprise. it makes something warm bloom in your chest.

"I brought you guys cookies?" it comes out more like a question, "I brought you guys cookies, because you walked me home last week."

normally, luke would be teasing his older brother - and the fact he was cheesing like an idiot still - but he smells the cookies first.

to your surprise, the younger boy grabs you by the wrist to drag you into the apartment, thanking you for the baked goods.

he offers you a hug, introducing himself.

you're a bit unnerved, but he's so cute, like a little puppy that you hug him back, patting his shoulder while stifling a smile. he reminds you a bit of your own little brother.

jack pouts. no way luke got a hug before him. so he sidles up to you, tucking you under his arm.

"wanna hang out with us? we're playing video games."

you don't know much, but you do know you like how he's looking at you, all soft brown eyes and crooked smile.

so you tuck yourself into the couch.

you find out a lot about both of them: they're brothers who play for the same nhl team - impressive - they can finish a whole batch of cookies in 20 minutes, and they have lots of friends.

people start popping up into the apartment, nico, johnny and so many more large, kind boys who hug you in greeting.

you almost don't mind, especially when jack texts you from across the room.

he's watching you from the kitchen where you're speaking in choppy german to nico. he's worried, because the first time he met you, you were so shy and shaking in your boots.

you all good? I can walk you home if the boys are tiring you out

you look up, a small grin on your face as you shake your head at him.

you look so at home on his couch with his friends, that something blind and unfamiliar stirs in his stomach. he ignores an incoming text from the instagram model he met up with, in favour to watch nico explain german grammar to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

light pink sky up on the roof, sun sinks down, no curfew, twenty questions, we tell the truth

jack thinks you're an angel. he'd come back to the apartment after a really hard game, battered and bruised. you show up to his door like you have been for a while, sometimes when it's just the two of you, sometimes when many of the boys are there.

this time, you're holding a bag in your hands. he sighs as he opens the door, falling into your arms.

"oh-! jack, you're too heavy!" you exclaim, trying to hold his weight. he pouts, leading you to the couch. he pushes you down gently, and you let him.

he snuggles up to you, head cradled by your chest.

he waits for you to coo and fuss over him, because you're just so kind and he finds this unprecedented comfort in you.

you feel like home, despite only knowing him for a few months.

"you okay?" you ask, and he pushes his head into your hands. you smile, getting the message.

you finally scratch his head, and he practically purrs. he settles into you, full weight like a thick blanket as you push through his hair with your nails.

"there you go," you murmur, quiet and loving. he thinks you'd be a good mom someday, and his heart twists when he thinks of you with someone else, making a home.

"can you scratch my back?" he knows he's being whiny, but you brush your thumb over his cheek and nod.

you're about to slip your hand under his shirt, but he sits up, tugging it over his head and returning to you like he always seems to do these days.

he slides his arms under your back, rubbing his head to your stomach.

you flush red, something unfamiliar spiking through your blood. he's all thick, soft muscles, unlike the vanity ones you see on some guys. raw, simple strength to take the hits and deliver them in his sport.

he's so handsome.

you scratch your nails down his back and he shivers.

"cold?" you hum, but he shakes his head.

after a while, he lets you get up because your legs are numb.

"you're too heavy," you grin again, and he complains that you're calling him fat.

he's ridiculous, with his abs under soft skin and big biceps. he still hasn't put his shirt back on.

"so, what's in the bag?" he asks, and you brighten up.

you dump it out on to the couch: it's face masks, eye masks and skin care.

"I like to relax with this, so I thought maybe you would like it?" you ask shyly, "we don't have to-"

"no!" jack exclaims, throwing everything into the bag and standing, "I want to. see what the hype is about."

he's seen the cute couple pictures online with the girl doing the guy's skincare; something about you suggesting it makes his feel ten feet tall.

so that's how he ends up with you on his bathroom counter, himself between your legs as you rub shaving cream onto his face.

"you better not slice me up," he pokes your tummy, and you giggle.

"don't worry, jackpot," you use his nickname, "cant' have the fans mourning your pretty face."

you carefully shave off his stubble, eyes concentrated.

you're so close, and you smell you, and you're so careful with him he wants to kiss you and give you his heart.

you hold his hair back as he washes his face. the act is so intimate, and the whole scene is so domestic that it makes him homesick for something he's never had.

"okay, so I'll put the eye masks on you first, then the clay one."

it's actually pretty relaxing, he has to admit. the eye masks are cool, and the clay mask is a little tight, but he likes to see you smooth it onto your own face, matching his.

he takes his phone, and you slide under his arm, linking yours around his waist.

the both of you smile wide for the mirror selfie, and he makes it his lock screen.

after both of you wash the masks from you - admittedly smoother - skin, he orders a pizza, and you make your way up to the roof.

the light pollution is too bad and he knows that the stars won't be visible, but the pink-inked sky is pretty as your smile.

the two of you talk about everything and nothing: some trick he managed to pull during practice, your co-workers pending divorce, something funny his mom said.

he wishes he could stay here forever, with you.

you, with your soft hair and smile, his too-big hoodie over your shoulders as you lean on him.

he likes seeing you all sleepy and vulnerable, answering his questions quietly.

"do you want a boyfriend?" he asks as the sun goes to bed.

"of course I do," you murmur, "but I just want the right person, at the right time."

he smiles at that. he wants to be that person for you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you've been stressed out lately? yeah, me too, something gave you the nerve, to touch my hand

"oh, shit." you swear softly, and sophie, your co-worker turned best friend - don't let jack hear that - apologizes.

"sorry! sorry! don't move, bro!" she rubs where the curling iron touched the back of your neck.

"that's gonna leave a mark. I'm sorry, sweetie." she fusses, and you tell her it's okay.

luke and jack are having a party for new years at their place, so you and sophie take that chance to dress up for once.

your makeup is done, so is your hair. you have to admit, sophie's done a real good job.

"yeah, dude. we look hot."

you're wearing a pretty red dress, with thin straps and material that clung to your body.

you were unsure, but Sophie hyped you up enough for you to put it on, and you felt really confident.

except you were a little scared at how short it was.

"hey, girl!" luke exclaimed when you entered their apartment. "you look great. hey, soph!"

he handed you both a drink, scurrying off to greet someone else.

the two of you link hands, trying and laughing while bulldozing through the crowd to get to the living room.

some guy catches soph's eye, and you encourage her to go off and talk to him.

nico finds you, being pushed around by the throng of people, and tucks you under his arm like your a football.

you giggle a little as he manages to navigate the way. jack's sitting on one of the arm chairs, and his eyes brighten when he sees you.

"special delivery!" nico pats your head like he would to his little sister, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

the only thing between you is many half-drunk hockey players and drinks on the ground. nico is about to pick you up like a cat, but jack hops his way over, swatting his hands.

"I got it, precious cargo, after all." he slips one hand under your thighs, and another arm wrapped round your waist so you're pressed against his vertically.

you cling to his neck as he makes his way back to his seat, turning you in his arms to fit you onto his lap.

"you look..." he breathes into your ear, "you look gorgeous, baby."

"thanks, jack."

the night continues like normal, until between the sheer amount of people in the apartment and jack's chest pressed against you is making you over heat. as you laugh at one of johnny's jokes you sweep your hair over your shoulder to let your neck breathe.

you feel jack tense beneath you, and he lifts you to stand.

"I-i need a drink," his eyes are panicked and shaky. he bolts, and you stand to go after him. nico and Luke call after you, concerned.

you find him on the roof, leaning over the banister, shoulders shaking.

"jack, honey?" you ask, slipping a hand between his shoulder blades, "do you feel sick?"

the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin, even more so when he turns to you, teeth grit.

"no, m'fine. go back to the party."

"not until you tell me-"

"why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?" he blurts out, refusing to look at you.

"huh?" you ask.

"why didn't you tell me? I thought we told each other everything."

"what are you-"

"you don't need to pretend. I know-" he shudders, like it's painful for him to say this, "I know you're..."

"jack-" you start, but he grabs your hands, new determination in his eyes as he draws you close.

"you should know that I'm in love with you. so you have options, baby." his lip is quivering, and his eyes are rimmed with red.

"I-"

"I could treat you better than he could. and I wouldn't hide it, either. we would be so good together..." he's rubbing the length of your arms now, trying to warm you up.

"we already work so well together. we're best friends and you make me laugh so much. you make me feel safe and tethered."

he continues, "and...jeez, baby, you're fucking gorgeous. I just want to press you against a wall and..." he's talking low and heavy in your ear, and you lean closer to him.

"please, just consider me. I wouldn't just leave a hickey on your neck behind your ear and not celebrate new years with you."

"what?" you asked, surprised, "no, that's not a hickey. sophie burnt my neck while curling my hair."

jack colours a brilliant shade of fire work red.

he just got all in his head, seeing you dolled up and loose, that when he saw the mouth sized mark on the smooth nape of your neck, his only thought was: that should've been me.

"fuck."

you've got a teasing smile on your face now, "you loooove me!"

"I am a dumbass."

"a dumbass who loves me." you grin, cupping his neck, smoothing circles over the skin there.

"my offer still stands," he tells you, winding his arms around your waist.

"yes. I love you too, you idiot." the people throughout the apartment building are starting to chant.

3, 2, 1, happy new years!

"happy new years, baby." he says, and he presses his lips softly, and sweetly to yours.

he's so delicate, trying to make sure everything is perfect.

and it is, because he's with you, with the promise of more forever.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

church bells ring, carry me home, rice on the ground looks like snow

"yeah, mom. I know, I've been eating good. my girl's taking care of me."

you hear jack's voice from where you're measuring rice in the pantry. he definitely thinks that the pantry doors are thicker than they are.

you smile, because he takes such good care of you too: he washes your hair in the shower, he carries and stocks your groceries, he always makes sure you're fed and warm when you're too stressed.

and he takes care of you in other ways that makes you warm and all liquidy.

"I'm gonna make her my wife, mom. she's...she's the one. yes, I'll bring her to the lake house for the summer, but I'll have to ask first. okay. bye. love you too."

by that time you've made it out of the room, closer to him. when he says wife, you drop the whole bowl of rice you were holding.

"did you hear that?" jack's ears are pink, but he's got a cheesy smile on his face.

"yeah. you have a really loud voice, honey."

"call me that again." he asks, as you come to stand between his legs as he sits on the barstool of the kitchen counter.

"loud voice," you tease.

he laughs, and when the two of you quiet down, he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I mean it, y'know."

"we've been only dating for like a month," you protest weakly.

"and I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle to me."

"will you cry?"

"no," he lies, even though he's getting a little teary just thinking about it.

"hmm." you kiss him anyways, and Luke finds you there 10 minutes later, still wrapped up together with rice all over the floor.

"you guys are weirdos." he rolls his eyes, making a face as jack kisses your lips again.

"watch it, mister. you're talking to your future sister in law." you joke, and luke jumps, reaching for your hand.

"dude, were you fucking with me?" he whines, "I got all excited too."

jack hollers something insulting his intelligence as you laugh, watching the two boys.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

feels like home, stay in bed, the whole weekend, it's nice to have a friend

jack kisses your forehead as he hands you a plate of food. you bite his cheek as he shrieks.

you laugh, sitting up so he can see his shirt that's practically falling off of your frame.

you and jack had a slow morning, the sun streaming over your naked bodies as you simply enjoyed each other's presence. around noon, he finally got up to shower.

you refused to join him because "no, the two of us showering together would not save water, it would probably waste more."

so he showered, sad and alone, and made breakfast after you went to clean yourself off.

now, watching you eat toast and watch his past game highlights from last weekend, he knows.

he knows it's going to be you, no matter what.

he knows it's you he wants to grow old with, and have three kids - two boys, one girl, he has the names all planned out - and that picket fence shit.

he knows it's you who'll take care of him with your soft hands and heart at the end of the day, and you'll be the one he'll protect and provide for too.

he knows that he loves you like the back of his hand.

and he knows you're his best friend, the love of his life.

so he knows that he wants to make you his wife.

he leans over to his bedside drawer and pulls out a box.

he got it the weekend after the two of you got together, and he's shaking as you turn to him with wide eyes.

"I love you. you're...you're it for me, baby. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I promise to keep you safe and warm and always finish your plate when you're full," he knows you too well, because your left overs are already on his plate, "and I just want all of you. will you marry me?"

"yes," you breathe, tackling him into the bed with a delighted whoop.

there's no other words to describe it, it's so nice to have you.

it's so nice to have you forever, now.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[madaqueue]

FALL FROM GRACE

do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes. put to death that which is earthly inside you.

pairing: priest!sunday x succubus!f!reader

themes/content: dubcon (char!receiving - he says "stop" and it's basically ignored, and there's some heavy coercion/corruption stuff going on here), somno depending on how you look at it (succubi technically visit people in their dreams, so he's asleep ? sorta?), lots of religious guilt around sex, heavy catholic religious imagery (literally straight up bible verses). smut. handjobs, fingering/masturbation, p in v. i wanted to explore the rigidity and internalized shame sunday feels so uh . here's this ! (wk: 3.6k)

a/n: me when he's burdened and tormented (also i had to put my religious trauma somewhere ! hope it's yummy) :3333

The first night is always the most fun.

They never wake, not on this visit; the mind is a simple thing to trick, eager to make excuses for the gentle touches trailing over one’s torso, down their chest. A dream, they call it, a ready and waiting path to forgiveness.

The second night is usually the same - feather-light hands, breathy kisses - but you find Sunday to be a near-impossibly light sleeper when he begins to stir beneath you. Pinned under thighs that straddle his waist, his eyelashes flutter, nearly roused; his lips part, almost a sigh. It’s an uncanny thing to be so beautiful and so unaware; you wonder if he’s grateful for this gift. With a quick peck, you send him back into the waiting arms of slumber.

The third night you visit him, his eyes open slowly, still clouded by dreams. It’s rather obviously unexpected to be found in this position, with a stranger resting over him, smiling, trapped beneath their weight.

“Who are you?” he breathes, barely above a whisper. There’s no fear behind his gaze, only shimmering curiosity.

“Who do you think I am?”

Your fingers trail lower, tracing circles into his abdomen. It’s a fitting pattern for what you’ve seen of him: controlled, precise, predictable. No hard edges or uncertainty, just smooth and calm. Something about a vow, you think, has made him like this. Poverty. Chastity. Obedience. A promise to a power too self-righteous for your taste.

His eyebrows furrow as he attempts to focus upon you, vision still blurry. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, curves casting shadows under the fading starlight, black lace and soft skin. Then, there’s a flash of horns, a flicker of your tail, the markings below your abdomen pulsing through the dark. He swallows. “What are you?”

Ruby lips spread into a grin, one that veers sinister - he’s such a cute little thing, a chocolate covered strawberry, all sweet and flesh and blood. “An angel.”

The silk pillowcase rustles as he shakes his head, too innocent, too naive to do anything but be truthful. “No, you’re not.”

“No,” you lean forward, feeling his pulse thrum below your palm. “I’m not.” You kiss his cheek, and whisper a goodnight.

The fourth night, he’s more awake, but less verbal. Instead, sun-bright eyes follow your movements, the crackling fingerprints that travel his skin. He lets you touch him, lets you trace out the muscles lying below the surface, feel the nerves and arteries that quicken under your touch. Drowsy little whines leave his throat, barely a sound, as you work. Up wrists, over shoulders, to collarbones, counting ribs and diving into his hips, along his thighs, and back again. It’s a beautiful routine, just light enough to keep him half-slumbering.

From there, it’s mostly the same - you touch and trace and tease him, and he watches, silent and mostly unconscious. A week passes, maybe two. The time doesn’t matter, not to you, not really. What matters is the way his skin sparks beneath your fingertips, the way his eyelashes flutter under the moon’s silken glow.

You aren’t granted the privilege of visiting him awake, not yet, at least. There’s no way for you to see the way he pours over text, books with cracked spines and dusty pages, to find the source of these…dreams, of the being that visits him and steals him from the respite of sleep. The word succubus is heavy in his mouth, more bitter than communion wine, with no unleavened sanctity coming after to dull the taste.

On the seventeenth night (you think, if your count is right), he wakes in a notably different position, no longer cradled by the mattress upon which he put himself to bed. Under the mottled moonlight, he finds himself sitting upright, the bare skin of his back resting against something much warmer than the wooden headboard.

“Good morning, Sunday,” you purr into his ear from behind.

He murmurs something, slowly turning over his shoulder to face you. For the briefest moment, you think you catch the flicker of a smile.

“Good morning, demon.”

“Oh?” you let out an airy chuckle. “So you’ve figured it out then. Good, I was worried all you priests were nothing more than fools.”

The lightest laugh brushes past his lips, allowing his eyes to rest for a moment. “I’m no fool. Now tell me, why are you here, demon?”

Through a feigned pout, your hands make their way back to his chest. “What, are you sick of me already? You don’t like me, is that it?”

“I have no particular feelings towards you.” He’s quick to respond, quicker even to remind himself of his place, of his duties, as your palms threaten to burn through his skin. Poverty. Celibacy. Obedience. Important ideals. Good ideals. Holy ones, at that.

Through a hum, you travel lower over his body. It’s a test, really, to see if he’ll stop you, grab your wrists and yank you from behind him and banish you from this place forever. It would take so little: a splash of holy water, or even a simple curse, and he’d be rid of you. Surely he found that little fact in his readings.

And yet, he simply follows your path downward with his gaze (you can’t say you’re truly that surprised - it has become your routine, after all. And Sunday cherishes his routines).

“No feelings for me, you say,” you say, pensively. Lower, and lower, and lower.

Just as his lips open to speak, to throw some calculated retort, your fingertips brush between his legs and the sound twists into something else, something needier, a noise he couldn’t have controlled with all the constitution in heaven.

You gasp at the response, too, awe bubbling inside your cheeks.

“Oh, Sunday,” you breathe. “You poor thing, you must be so pent up.”

“I- mmm.” With a second run of your palm over his hardening length, his eyes dance shut, his entire body shuddering.

“Don’t they allow you to touch yourselves here?”

It’s evil, this touch, coursing with sin and dark, dirty blasphemy. He ought to shut his mouth, rip out his vocal cords if that’s what it takes, and wait. Perhaps a blood smear above his lips would protect him, make you pass him over tonight and all nights thereafter.

“N-not in the monastery,” he chokes out. “It’s against the rules.”

He grants you the privilege of grazing his warming skin, before letting out a shaky breath. Thou shalt not covet. Dispel desire.

“You…you should stop.”

“Stop?” The absurdity leaks into your voice. “You’ve given up so much for this silly church, don’t you think? Why give this up, too? Don’t you deserve it?”

A pause, a steadying breath, to quiet your dissatisfaction disguised as rage.

“And besides, look how badly you need this. It feels good, doesn’t it?” An angel, caught in your trap; to think you may not even have to clip his wings. “Don’t you want to feel good, my dear Sunday?”

Eyelashes delve into the creases of his eyelids as he tightens them closed, lips pulled into a gasping frown. Everything in his mind, in the years of his training, of memorizing verses and teachings and sermons and rules and rules and rules, tells him to say no, to force a stop to this nonsense.

“And,” you perk up at his hesitation, “it won’t even be violating your so-called ‘rules’ if I’m the one touching you, right?”

Even through the feather-light touches, Sunday worries he’s losing his mind, like your fist might as well be piercing through his chest and ripping his soul from it, dragging it into hell with you. The thoughts that make it up his spine are too blurry with lust to let the more sluggish Reason through.

“Right.”

Smiling into his neck, you feel his carotid jump under your teeth. “Good, good. So just let me do this, okay?”

So put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking within you. Have nothing to do with sexual immorality, impurity, lust, and evil desires.

He says the words over, and over, and over in his mind.

Do not be greedy, for a greedy person is an idolater, worshiping the things of this world.

He knows better than to make idols.

And yet, all he can do is nod his head.

He doesn’t face you, of course, buried under the shame of it. If the church was any older, he’d worry the brick would collapse in on him at any second, to punish him for the sin he was too weak to avoid committing. Perhaps he should be turned to salt, a fate befitting of his pathetic disobedience.

“Okay.”

It’s immediate, the way he relaxes when you finally reach below his boxers. The heat of your touch melts him, his throat craning as it releases strained whines. He’s heavy in your hand, a weight his so-called gods would surely commend, if they could spare such thoughts. Soft skin, unsoiled, untainted. Utterly holy.

As you stroke him with a tenderness only known to the clouds of salvation, he looks nothing short of angelic, the arch of his spine making space where wings ought to be, the tickle of his hair soft like a crowned halo. And you, wrapped around him like a flame, carry him through the air. Lower, and lower, and lower. To soften the blow when one falls from grace.

It takes so little for him to shake, to shudder and cry and bend, until you worry his shoulders may snap if you weren’t caging his torso against yours. His head falls back, slack-jawed and awe-struck, as he releases into your palm, pumps of white coating your hand.

It’s a beautiful thing, the sounds he makes, the purity of it. White and cream and gold, just as you’d imagine heaven to be.

There’s waves of pleasure, his stomach clenching with each one, pushing him further and further into you, and you swallow him whole, welcoming with open arms.

Slowly, you press your lips to his cheek, scalding hot.

“Goodnight, Sunday.” And he falls into your chest.

It grows increasingly difficult for him to hide the dreams (at least, that’s what he would convince himself they are). It’s been months now, although truthfully, you’ve stopped counting.

Every night, he falls into a troubled, humid sleep. Every morning, he wakes to a mess, still half-hard and panting.

And yet, he’s more relaxed, his shoulders less tense. When he turns to the parish, his neck moves more easily. As a well-educated (well-trained) man, he assumes he hides it well, but his relief is palpable, a taste too thick to anyone who knows him.

“You seem different lately, Sunday,” Father Wood observes casually.

With his back facing him, Sunday conceals the way his spine tightens. “How do you mean, Father?”

Pensively, Father Wood lights the altar’s candles, an honor given only to those most highly ordained, an honor Sunday used to dream of performing (now, of course, his dreams are consumed by other desires).

“Just…different, is all.”

Sunday’s attention falls to the flames before him, to the way they dance nervously despite the still, stagnant air inside the church. Perhaps they know something he doesn’t.

“I’ve been spending more time in the library lately. Perhaps my reading has enlightened me.”

“Perhaps,” Father Wood echoes. With quiet purpose, he lights the final candle. “This church is your home, my boy. You had nothing before you came here. I remember the day we took you in, the day you were saved.”

There���s a pit in his stomach, one that grows and grows and grows; he’d expect it to taste like acid, but all he gets is honey. “I remember it, too.”

Father Wood hums, facing away. “‘If our minds are ruled by our desires, we will die.’” A pause, a flickering flame. “Sunday, I trust you not to forget the oaths you swore.”

A shiver runs up his neck. Poverty. Chastity. Obedience. “Of course not, Father.”

That night, you meet Sunday in bed. Normally it’s little trouble to untuck the sheets, to find the welcoming skin of his thighs, but tonight he seems determined to bury himself within the blankets.

“Sunday,” you say. He fails to respond, but his ears twitch. “Sunday, I know you’re awake.”

One eye slowly cracks open, revealing the sun behind his eyelids. “Go away.”

“Excuse me?” you choke a laugh. “You want me to ‘go away’?”

Closing his eyes, he hums in affirmation.

Within your chest, your heart flutters - he’s so cute when he thinks he’s in control. Perhaps that’s why you chose him (the chase is always the most fun, the tension of it all; you think Eve’s first bite of the apple must have been underwhelming compared to its weight in her palm).

Perhaps your routine will bring him back. Slowly, you trail a finger along his collarbone - before he pulls away. Curling himself onto his side, he tucks his knees to his chest and shuts you out.

This is certainly a novel development. And it certainly will not do.

“Fine then,” you state, leaning back to the corner of the mattress.

In response, his left ear twitches, but he gives no other response. So be it.

Against the wooden footboard, you open your legs, visible if he were only to turn towards you. With well-practiced hands, you easily slide the black lace panties down your knees, letting them fall at your ankles and leaving you bare (it requires few garments to do your work successfully, after all - they’re made for this).

Silently, you spread your ever-wet folds open. With your other hand, you draw circles around your clit, slowly, tauntingly. Delving into your own heat, a sound of relief comes as an exhale, one that finally has Sunday’s gaze peeking from between his eyelashes.

“What are you doing?”

“If you don’t want me to touch you, I guess I’ll just have to touch myself instead,” you say. The words flow easily, thick like milk and honey, something sweet, something to help him sleep.

This time, his eyes remain open.

His mouth does, too.

Silent except for the ragged breaths coming past his lips, he watches you pleasure yourself, the way your fingers curl, knuckles disappearing only to reappear shining. The inky pattern adorning your womb morphs and glows; a spot of saliva catches in the dim light, and he makes no move to wipe it away.

With an arch of your back and a tilt of your head, you beckon him closer - always such an obedient little thing, your Sunday (he was praised for it, once); he slowly rises. The mattress shifts beneath his weight, holding it unsteadily, as he crawls towards you. Unwavering attention held raptly between your thighs.

“Sunday,” you say, to snap him out of the trance that pulls him towards you. He says nothing, a small trail of drool spilling from the corner of his perfectly eager lips. “Sunday.”

His eyes snap up to yours, the sun eclipsed behind the growing shadow of his pupils.

Your palm cradles his jaw, thumb wiping away the glistening desire. “Are you going to behave now?”

A blank stare.

A fragile nod.

“Good.” Your grin splits the earth open with wicked flames, poking between your teeth. He drinks in the heat with a starving throat, ignoring the way it burns (or reveling in it).

A sparkling star shines in his eyes, nearly glowing. You pull the two fingers from your cunt, still warm and sticky and sweet, and hold them before his face.

You don’t even have to tell him to open his mouth - obedience is such a lovely thing.

When your taste lands upon his tongue, he releases a moan like molten gold. His lips close around your fingers and he sucks and licks the essence from them, hungry and gnawing. Your fingertips glide over his molars and he fights the urge to bite, to claim (a well-trained dog is still just a dog, after all).

There’s a half-hearted whine when you remove your skin from his, one that makes your cheeks ache.

“Tell me what you want, my dear Sunday. Anything you want.”

If our minds are ruled by our desires, we will die.

Perhaps dying here tonight, with your taste still lingering in his throat, would be a graceful demise. A martyr of his sacrilege.

Already, he looks ravished, his cheeks dusted red and eyes wild and unfocused. The pretty ones are always the most fun to ruin, to dirty with desecration; they look so beautiful as they fall.

“I want-” there’s a lump in his throat where his servitude lives, where the years of holiness coalesced and stayed. He swallows heavily. “I want to feel good. I want you to make me feel good.”

“Ah,” you breathe. “I suppose I can do that.”

“But-” he catches himself. Rules, and rules, and rules. They clog up his esophagus, his vocal cords straining to get past them.

With a gentle finger, you hush his worries. “Just let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

He exhales, a shaky sound. “Okay.”

It takes little pressure to recline him onto the bed, the sheets already dampening from the sweat collected in the hollows of his back. He lets you undress him, lets you place scalding kisses into his skin, soft and sweet as a fig. Ripe like one, too.

Only two pumps of your fist up his length and he’s already leaking, twitching and aching.

“So eager,” you coo when his hips rut into the air, chasing your touch.

“M-my apologies,” he says weakly.

“Nothing to be sorry for, my sweet Sunday. Pleasure is a thing to be worshiped, don’t you think?”

They’d bury him for this. The other priests would crucify him and leave his body out to rot. He’d deserve it, he wouldn’t even complain, he’d be perfectly obedient until his very last breath.

As your thighs encase his, as you line his tip to your entrance, as you sink down, slowly, slowly, slowly, until you’re flush with him, until you’ve swallowed him whole and nestled him inside of you, his vision goes white and he feels the warm smile of forgiveness.

“Yes.”

From behind, your tail twitches into his peripheral vision. A cruel reminder, a crash and burn. Melted wings and the sea. But then your hips circle, once, twice, and he forgets himself again, he enjoys the fall.

His hands fly to your waist, before they’re swatted away with a click of your tongue and a sparkle in your eyes. “Ah, no touching me, remember? Those are your rules, after all.”

“Right.” Instead, his fists dig into the sheets, knuckles turning white.

With each plunge of your warmth up and down his cock, he’s reborn, fresh and gasping, each breath burning like the first. Crescent moons carve into his palms, and he groans.

“Is this…is this real?”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. “Do you want it to be?”

He hesitates for a moment, lets your hand rest on his unsteady heart, lets your skin stick to his. Just below it, a knot forms, the strings tightening and tightening and tightening under years of strain.

“Yes.”

You fill his vision, all-consuming, eating the space between you with sharp teeth. When you speak, it’s a low sound, a rumbling purr. It makes his stomach clench. “Good.”

His breaths come in faster, now that he knows it’s real, that the heat creeping up his neck and down his legs is real, that this is happening. That something exists that feels this fucking good.

And then, all at once, the knot unties itself. The moans he releases are holy, more beautiful than a choir with all its ordained voices.

Damp palms grab at your hips, and you let them. With greedy fingers he holds you in place, fucking himself up into you. Tears well in his eyes and in the blurry haze, he thinks he sees heaven. It opens itself before him, warm and beckoning, in the space between your thighs.

“God, fuck,” he exhales, and you grin.

“How blasphemous, Sunday.”

If he hears you, he gives no indication. Curses tumble from his lips, raw edges cutting his lungs.

He chases a high with urgency, with uncoordinated thrusts and a too-tight grip. His dedication is truly a virtue.

It’s only a moment before he stills, eyes widening, jaw falling open to release an angelic cry. Truly beautiful as he falls, as he comes undone. In the space below his arched spine, you swear there’s a momentary flutter of wings.

Eyelashes open and close, as if to prove that this is not, in fact, real. But the heat still encircling him is proof enough. He shivers.

“Fuck,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

“Oh Sunday,” you hum, fingers tracing ribs that rise and fall unevenly. There’s a twinge of something mixed into the pride, something sadder, something longing. “This certainly has been fun.”

“Fuck,” he says again. Dread settles on his shoulders, heavy, heavier than duty or scriptures or a grave, than a cross. “Will I…?”

“Be excommunicated for this? Probably not,” you smirk.

Weakly, he shakes his head, sweaty strands of hair sticking to the pillowcase below. “Will I see you again?”

The question makes your heart flutter. How cute.

“If you’d like to, my dear.” With a gentle hand, you brush the fringe from his forehead. “Anything you want.”

At that, he relaxes, his shoulders sinking deeper. With heavy eyelids, his blinking slows. “Good.”

How beautiful he looks like this, half-conscious and spent, utterly debauched. Utterly holy.

“But for now, get some rest.” Warm lips press into his cheek, and he leans into them with a hum. “Goodnight, Sunday.”

[meelusinee]

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND | M.R X READER

word count \ 1.8k | fluff and stuff | slash / mattheo riddle x reader

in which you spend christmas with mattheo and his friends (part two to lovesick!mattheo) author's note at the end!

THIRD PART HERE - dancing in the rain ep

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND | M.R X READER

It had been a long while since you and Mattheo had gotten together, a relationship full of notes and songs dedicated to you. You tried to keep everything you could in a small box, the widest smile on Mattheo’s face coming out when he saw the box for the first time.

Suffice to say that his appreciative kisses and cuddles kept you rather warm that night.

Over the course of your relationship, you had met Mattheo’s friends as well. It started indirectly, whenever they would barge into his dorm room and find you both cuddling. 

Theodore was the one you talked to the most. He was Mattheo’s best friend, and often teased him quite a bit about how much he loved you. Theo was the one who told you about the love letters that Mattheo made in the first place, which you shall forever be grateful for. 

Blaise and Draco were the friends that you often went to if you wanted to get on a cruise ship the next week, or whenever you wanted the best wine seller for a Slytherin party that weekend. And Enzo or Pansy were the friends you’d go to if you wanted all of that done illegally.

All in all, a rather good friend group.

Which led you to where you were going right now. A legal holiday adventure hosted by Draco at one of his vacation houses somewhere in the world. Mattheo and you decided to spend some time together driving to the place, which eventually led to Theo coming along. Theo invited Blaise to smoke with him. Blaise invited Draco to pay for road trip snacks. Draco invited Pansy because they were dating. And Pansy invited Enzo for reasons you still hadn’t been told yet.

That meant you had to take your family van.

You and Mattheo sat in the front, with Theo, Ezo  and Blaise in the middle. Pansy and Draco sat in the backseats, dining in on the couple time that you and Mattheo had been robbed of. Still, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are we there yet?” Enzo whined, head leaning forward.

Maybe one change or two.

“No, we’re not.” Mattheo said, sighing softly as he continued driving forward. “I told you this five minutes ago.”

“Maybe the path changed within five minutes!” Enzo said to him. 

“Yeah, five minutes closer. Not an hour!” you said, chuckling softly as you squeezed Mattheo’s hand. 

“You two are mean.” Enzo pouted, turning to look at Blaise. “Right Blaise?”

“It’s deserved.” he said, flipping through the pages of his book. He recently got reading glasses that Draco and Enzo had teased him endlessly for. “Ow!”

“No kicking!” Pansy said, swatting Enzo’s head from the backseat.

“I say go full-in.” Theo said, which ensued an argument about the ethics of kicking someone whenever they don’t agree with your opinion. You and Mattheo turned to look at each other with soft sighs, similar to parents dealing with toddlers going to Disneyland.

“Can you all hush back there?” you said, the tiniest smirk present on your face as you started at Mattheo. “Your father is trying to drive, hey don’t hit me!”

“Hush.” he said, gently booping your nose.

“Are we there now?” Enzo asked as Mattheo pulled into the parking lot, gasping loudly at the sight of the cabin. “Woah.”

It was decorated to the most Christmas extent you could think of. Bushes covered in lights, icicle lights hanging from the roof, wreaths placed all over the place. There were bells on top of the mailbox that chimed when you passed by it, and a large and bright star at the tippy top of the roof. If you didn’t know where you were, you’d think you walked into a Christmas market hosted by Santa.

The seven of you walked out of the car, Draco walking through first as he inspected the house.

“My mother has a knack for Christmas,” he muttered, his feet making a rather large imprint in the snow. “I didn't think it was this big though.” 

“I bet the Christmas tree is so pretty.” Pansy squealed, running to the front door. “Open it!”

“Give me a moment, Pans!” he said, trying to figure out which key opened the front door from the ring his mother had given him. You and Mattheo stayed behind while the rest of them rushed forward, watching them rush inside once Draco got it open.

“It looks rather magical.” you whispered, giggling as a small snowflake fell on your nose.

“It really does.” Mattheo whispered softly, his eyes glued on you as he spoke. “The most magical thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re so sappy.” you smiled.

Mattheo chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you. There were two puffer jackets separating your skin from his, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. “We should go on a walk.”

“We should!” you said, your boots making an indent on the snow as you both walked down the path. 

The path was even more magical than the house itself, you noticed, with Christmas trees lining the whole way down. It seemed that all of the trees within the field were swaddled in Christmas lights. Some were regular, some were colored, and others had ornaments or lights at the tip of them.

“This really is beautiful.” you whispered, gasping at the string lights and small candles that gently flew between the trees. How they didn’t get put out by the snow, you had no idea. “Wow.”

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, chuckling softly as he kissed your forehead. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you this whole time.” 

“Well, you better start.” you pouted, turning to him. “The trees are really pretty.”

Mattheo nodded, laughing as you grabbed his chin to direct him where to look. His eyes took in the snowed over area first, the lights on the trees after that. There was red, green, and blue lights bouncing together, along with the regularly colored lights that shined bright on the glittery ornaments.

“They are rather pretty, yes.” he whispered. “Though I feel like it’s quite a lot of color rather than just one.” 

“What really is Christmas if not to turn you blind with bright lights?” you asked, smiling as the both of you walked further down the path. 

“Okay everyone, gather around!” Mattheo said, a bass guitar in hand. The night was rising as the sun was setting, the firepit that Blaise and Enzo had made cracking through the burning wood.

“What are we doing?” Pansy asked, sitting down on one of the wooden logs. Mattheo sat down next to you as Draco sat down next to Pansy. Theo sat next to Mattheo purely to annoy him, while Blaise and Enzo sat on the other log.

“We’re going to sing the Jingle Bell Rock.” Mattheo said, setting the bass guitar on his knees as he began testing it. “Found this in the attic.”

“What on Earth are you doing in my attic?” Draco asked, a cup of wine in his hands.

“Hey, it was open!” Theo said, having assisted with the raid of the Christmas attic. “And we found a bunch of very interesting things.”

“Like what?” Enzo leaned forward with a smirk, before Blaise whacked him in the head. “Ow!”

“They’re just messing with Draco.” Blaise said. “There was only old cobwebs and his parents’ Hogwarts uniforms, nothing scandalous.”

“A shame though.” Theo muttered, lighting a joint before turning to Mattheo. “You gonna play?”

“Yup.” Mattheo said, his fingers running against the strings as he played the opening to the Jingle Bell Rock. 

You and Pansy giggled as the boys all joined together to sing the song, all completely out of tune. Pansy shared a glance with you as you both began to sing the back up vocals, all of you swaying in tune with the music. 

You went from the Jingle Bell Rock to Rockin Around the Christmas Tree. Mattheo and you sang Baby it’s Cold Outside while Theo and Enzo gagged, and Draco dramatically sang Frosty the Snowman with tears in his eyes. Enzo stood up dramatically, pausing the guitar as he began to sing a song about a grandma being run over by a reindeer.

“Okay, that’s enough weed for you,” Draco said, sitting Enzo back down. “We are not running grandmas over with reindeer.”

“Says you!” Theo cackled, crossing his legs. “I for one find the idea rather pleasant.” 

“Pleasant?” Pansy asked incredulously, shaking her head as she very quickly snatched Theo’s joint out of his hand. “That’s it, we’re cutting you off too.”

“My joint!” Theo yipped.

“Mattheo?” you called out, poking your head out of the door as you saw him sitting by the firepit.

“Yeah?” he asked, head lifting at the sound of your voice. You felt your face heating up at the smile that spread on his face, feeling it enough to heat you better than any fire could. “Hi there my love.”

“Everyone’s inside making hot chocolate before they go to bed.” you whispered, walking closer to him. Your hands found their way to the sides of his face, kissing the tip of his nose before you sat down next to him on the log. “Do you want some?”

“No, I’m good.” he whispered, kissing your forehead before wrapping his arm around you.

“You sure?” you whispered, wrapping both of your arms around his waist. “You feel rather cold out here. Your face is all red.”

“That’s because I’m staring at a really pretty girl.” he chuckled softly, kissing your lips ever so gently.

You giggled softly, placing your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him with the cutest expression he could ever think of. For him, you felt like epitome of Christmas. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” you said, nuzzling your nose against his playfully.

“No, I love you more.” he smiled softly at you.

“Not true.” you pouted, kissing his nose. “Because I love you so much more.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, chuckling softly. “Well I wrote you songs. So obviously, I love you more.”

“Yeah, well I saved them!” you pouted.

“You did save them.” he reasoned, nodding his head as he looked at the firepit. He put on a serious expression, pretending to truly ponder whether you loved him more or he loved you more. “Still think I love you more though.”

“That’s not fair.” you grumbled, burying your face against the crook of his neck. “It’s cold.”

“Why don’t we go inside then?” he asked gently, his fingertips caressing your shoulder. “You didn’t come out with your jacket, you must be freezing.”

“I am.” you whispered, standing up as he did. “Hot chocolate?”

Mattheo chuckled softly at your insistence, kissing your forehead once more before putting out the fire. “Anything for you.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ITS HEREEEEE!!! i wanted to do a second part for mattheo and i thought that i might as well do christmas-themed since it's already blasting on the radio. i'm tryingggg to heal my christmas spirit that i have lost over the years, esp because i always thought it was just about that one mariah carey song since my sister would play it every. single. day. even during my birthday (i was born in june.)

BUT, as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

have a good day everyone!

[strnilolover]

dealer!chris takes care of soft!reader after she accidentally takes an edible

warnings : edible. weed. reader is high for the first time. little bit of a freak out. and more?

“chris,” you murmured, your voice shaky as your body leaned up against the wooden frame of his bedroom door. your wide eyes darted around the room, not quite focusing on anything. “i don’t feel right.”

he was on his feet instantly, crossing the room to you. “what do you mean? what happened?”

your bottom lip quivered as you clutched the edge of the doorframe for balance. “i… i ate something. from the kitchen.” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts, though your words came out slow and slurred. “it was a brownie… in a bag… and now i feel weird.”

chris froze. he didn’t need to ask which brownie you meant. he’d left them on the counter for a friend to pick up later—edibles that were definitely not meant for you. his stomach dropped.

“angel,” he said cautiously, running a hand through his hair. “that wasn’t a normal brownie.” your brows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? it tasted normal.”

“it had weed in it,” he explained, his tone gentle. “a lot of weed. those are for people who’ve, y’know, built up a tolerance. not for someone who’s never smoked in their life.”

you blinked at him, the information processing in slow motion. then, your hands flew to your face. “oh my god. am i gonna die?”

chris bit back a laugh, his worry softening into affection. “no, babe. you’re not gonna die. you’re just really, really high right now.”

your shoulders sagged in relief, but only for a moment before panic set in again. “i don’t like it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i feel like my body’s not mine, and my thoughts won’t stop racing.”

his heart ached at the fear in your eyes. “okay, come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the bed. “sit down. i’ve got you.”

you leaned away from the door fran, your feet dragging against the floor as you made your way to the bed. you sat obediently, but your hands fidgeted in your lap. “chris, everything feels… big. like my hands, my feet, my head.”

he crouched in front of you, his hands gently covering yours to still them. “hey, look at me,” he said, his voice steady. “you’re okay. i promise. you’re just feeling things more intensely right now, but it’s all in your head. i’m here, and i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, clinging to his words. “promise?”

“i promise,” he said, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “i’m gonna help you through this, alright?” you nodded again, leaning into his touch. “okay.”

“good. now, first things first—water.” he stood, turning and walking out of his door—disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, a cold washcloth.

“drink this,” he said, handing you the water. “and take small sips, okay? don’t chug it.” you followed his instructions, the cool water soothing your dry throat. chris sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders, grounding you with his presence.

bringing the glass away from your lips, you hand it to chris. he takes it gently, setting it on his bedside table before returning his attention to you.

you managed a weak laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “i don’t get how people like this. my brain won’t shut up. i keep thinking about… about how time feels stretchy. Is that normal?” you ask, your words coming out slowly.

“yeah, that’s normal,” he said reassuringly. “it’s just the weed messing with your perception. it’ll pass. you’re safe.” you let out a shaky breath, sinking further into his side. “you’re really good at this,” you mumbled.

chris smiled, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “i’ve been around enough people to know what to do. next time, ask me before you eat random stuff, yeah?” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

he laughed, pulling your hands away to press a kiss to your forehead. “nah. it’s kinda cute, honestly. no need to be embarrassed baby.” his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “now lay down. rest a bit. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

you did as he said, turning out of his hold to crawl up in the bed—chris following as you curled up on his bed. his body slotted next to yours, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. the water started to help, and his steady presence calmed the storm in your mind.

“chris?” you murmured after a while, your voice drowsy. he looked down at you, tugging you closer. “yeah?”

“thanks for taking care of me,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shifted—laying on your side as your own arms wrapped around his middle. your face snuggling into his chest.

he smiled, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “always, baby. always.”

[michigo-eevee-trainer]

An Eclipse

Ok so this is a short story I made from one of @kyri45 asks for their Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU. They were asked what would happen when Wukong saw Macaque with white fur for the first time. And this idea stuck in my brain until I finally wrote. So here you go. My take on what happened that day. Sorry if my writing isn't very good.

~~~~~~

Liu'er looked up at the night sky. The moon was glowing brightly meaning it was one thing. An Eclipse. Liu'er let out a breath allowing his glamours to fall away. He thought back to the first time he had experienced an eclipse. How his shadow powers suddenly stopped working. How much he had panicked thinking he was losing his powers completely. It took him a while to calm down where his Mother had explained what was going on. How the Eclipse was messing with his shadow powers and he would get them back when the Eclipse was done. His Mother, or should he say the one who raised him, showed him how to get his powers back through the Eclipse. Not even his true Mother, and she was the one to teach him so much. Liu'er looked at his hands which now had white fur. The white fur was almost glowing meaning they were getting close.

It was a quiet night and no other monkey was around. Most monkeys wanted nothing to do with Liu'er anyways. Not that he minded, especially when it came to this. It would just take too long to explain if someone had spotted him doing this. Liu'er closed his eyes just taking in the calm breeze as he waited.

"Whoa!"

Liu'er flinched and quickly whipped around towards the noise. Wukong was standing there. Wukong was just staring at him with his jaw dropped a bit. Liu'er felt his nerves spike at being caught.

"W-Wait I…I can…"

"You look…" Then Wukong's face shifted from amazement to worry, "Wait! Are you aging! Is that why you're turning white?!"

"What?! No?! No No! That's not--"

"You're aging quickly! Hold on! I figure out how to--"

"Wukong I'm not aging! I'm--"

A feeling passed over Liu'er causing him to look up at the sky. The Eclipse was almost about to start. There wasn't a lot of time.

"Just One Minute!" Liu'er turned to the Eclipse.

Liu'er quickly began to go through the motion of Eclipse that he had been taught. He toned out Wukong as he needed to focus for this. As he went through this, his fur slowly turned back to black. It only took about a minute or so for his fur to become fully black again. Which was also the time when the Moon was completely covered. Liu'er gave a small sigh of relief before turning back to Wukong. His condition hadn't gotten any better. He still looked so worried but there was also a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Liu'er gave a small smile, "See? I'm fine. I'm not aging or--"

Wukong tackled Liu'er down knocking the wind out of him.

Wukong hugged him tightly, "I was so worried. Liu'er!"

"Wukong, I'm fine. I promise. I'm fine. This happens every year."

Wukong looked up at him, "What do you mean?"

Liu'er gave a small sigh before asking, "Remember my shadow powers?"

Wukong gave a nod so Liu'er explained, "When we got close to the Eclipse, my powers start going away. And with my magic going away, it reveals my natural fur color. Once the Eclipse is over, I get my powers back."

Wukong stared at him for a moment before asking, "Your fur is naturally white?"

Liu'er blinked in surprise at the question. Out of all the information he just got, that was the question he was going to ask.

"Umm…Yeah."

"But you've always had black fur."

"I glamour it to look black."

"Why?"

"It's easier to blend in with black fur."

"But you look pretty with white fur."

Liu'er looked surprised as a pink blush crossed his face. He really wished Wukong wouldn't just say stuff like that.

"Well…I…."

Wukong pleaded, "Undo your glamours so I can see your fur. Please Liu'er. Please."

Liu'er debated doing that just to show Wukong. But then another feeling passed over Liu'er. One that made him extremally tired. Oh right. He forget that getting his powers back made him tired. He hoped that stopped when he got older. He also hoped he had enough energy to at least make it to a tree to sleep.

"Maybe later, Wukong."

"But--"

"Wukong I'm tired."

Wukong seemed to realized that Liu'er was indeed tired, "Oh right. Time for bed."

Wukong let him go as he got up. Liu'er was going to get up to start walking back. That was until Wukong picked him up and placed him right on his back. Liu'er just held on, stunned, as Wukong started to walk back.

After a moment, Liu'er got control over his mouth again, "What are you doing?"

"You're tired so I'll carry you back."

"Y-You don't have to."

"But I want to. Now you can rest and I'll get you back."

Liu'er placed his chin on Wukong's shoulder, "Thank you."

"No problem. You know, I really hope that you'll show me your fur again. It really was pretty and I…"

The rest of Wukong's words were lost to Liu'er as his eyes began to close. Maybe he would show his fur to Wukong again. Maybe.

[menagerofmischief]

Can I please have Oscar piastri and lando Norris ,stuffed cherry tomatoes ,hot appetizer ,pizza ,carbonara chicken quesadilla ,grilled cheese ,boba and whiskey 🙏🙏

Dia's Diner Menu

stuffed cherry tomatoes sugar daddy hot appetizer sweet sex pizza "My good girl" carbonara "Look so good on my cock" chicken quesadilla "So pretty with my cock down your throat" grilled cheese "I buy you nice things and then I get to fuck you in them, sounds fair to me" boba anal whiskey double penetration

Lando Norris x sugar baby!girlfriend!reader x Oscar Piastri

TW: blowjob, fingering, PiV, PiA, double penetration, threesome, rich people being rich people

WC: 1.7k

A/N: first off, tysm for 200+ followers, I love you all. now, this is my first threesome fic so bear with me if it isn't that great. anyways, enjoy your papaya sandwich

“I really don’t think you needed to buy me this many things.” I said, opening the apartment door for Lando and Oscar to come inside, their hands full of bags. 

Today was shopping day and Lando and Oscar had insisted on dragging me into every single store we came across, no matter what was being sold inside. 

Technically all of this did start as a money arrangement, to make it easier for me to afford living in Monaco because while it may be tax free the cost of living here was still very big. So what started as a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship to cover my apartment cost along with some other luxuries quickly turned into more.

Especially considering the two of them somehow roped me into moving in with both of them, when they weren’t even living together in the first place. And really, I wasn’t with them for the money they could offer me, I loved them. And I knew they loved me too, they always made sure to tell me that … and show me as well.

I look over the bags they put down and pick up an orange Hermes bag from the floor. Once it’s in my hands I look down, confused by what’s inside. I reach my hands into the bag and pull out the object inside.

“Okay,” I say, holding it up. “Who bought an Hermes sleeping mask? I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

I look between the two of them and I immediately know which one it was. Sure, Oscar loves buying random stuff, and lot’s of stuff. But the stuff Oscar buys is, more normal, dare I say.

“I think it’s very nice,” Lando says, nodding his head. He reaches out his hands and I pass the sleeping mask to him.

“Lando, it has a whole bunch of padding inside, it looks like leather ate a cloud.” I tell him, observing the mask. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I hope you bought it for yourself, because I’m not wearing that.”

“It’s trendy,” he defends, proudly holding it up.

“I don’t think it is, mate.” Oscar says, rolling his eyes at Lando who in return glares at him. “It looks like one of those things you buy while waiting for them to offer you a Birkin.” His gaze moves to me and he offers me a smile. “By the way, do you like the Birkin we got you?”

At that, I move to grab a much larger Hermes bag that glaring up at me from the pile and now that I’m looking at it, I don’t know how I haven’t seen it yet. “What!?” I open the shopping bag and pull out a very expensive, very new Birkin from it. “Literally when did you get this?”

“When you returned to the grocery store to buy ketchup.”

“God, you two are impossible!” I groan, storing the bag away with caution. “We already talked about spending extensive amounts of money on me for things I don’t need.”

“But we love spending money on you!” Oscar protests, shutting down whatever ‘shopping ban’ talk I was preparing because we always did this.

“And I’m very grateful for that,” I tell him, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. “But then it makes me feel bad because I can’t repay you -”

“We don’t want you to repay us!” He quickly shut me off.

“Although,” Lando says, the tone of his voice enough for me to know in which direction the rest of his sentence will be heading. “If you want to repay us, I know a way you can do it.”

Lando grinned at me, one his cheeky boyish smiles and I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me. I smile, dipping my head in a half nod. “Let’s go boys.”

And that’s how we ended up in the bedroom just moments after. I took off my dress, both boys groaning at the sight of the lingerie I was wearing underneath. It was a matching set with lacy bra and crotchless panties they bought me the last time they insisted on going shopping. 

“Fuck sweetheart,” Oscar groaned, his hands running over my body, fingers moving along the outline of my breasts. “You look breathtaking.” 

I blushed at the compliment, moving my hands behind my back to unclasp the bra but before I could, Lando grabbed my hands and pushed them back. “Leave it baby,” he said, leaning forward so I could feel his breath on my neck. “We buy you nice things, and then we get to fuck you in them. Sounds fair to me, don’t you agree Oscar?”

I could see Oscar’s eyes darken, clouded with lust. His voice was rough when he spoke, his hands gripping my waist. “I absolutely agree, Lando.”

I felt Lando’s hands slip down and cup my ass, giving it a squeeze. “Think you can take us both at the same time tonight, baby?”

I nodded, instantly. We had done this before, one of them fucking my pussy while the other was fucking my ass. “Yes, please!” I said with a slight whine. I may have been a little eager but I loved when they did that.

“Why don’t you suck Oscar off while I open you up, baby?” Lando said. It may have sounded like a question but it was much more of a command, one I was gladly planning to obey. 

I gave a nod in reply and the boys wasted no time in getting undressed. Oscar laid down on the bed and positioned himself half sitting up against the headboard. I crawled over him, leaning down and placing a few kisses on his stomach and thighs.

I could feel Lando position himself behind me and heard him squeezing lube out onto his fingers. I leaned down, pressing my lips against the tip of Oscar’s leaking dick, giving it a suck before taking the rest of him down my throat.

Oscar’s hand wrapped in my hair, not tugging, just holding me there. I breathed in through my nose to steady myself, gagging a bit from how far down my throat he was.

One of Oscar’s hand cupped my cheek, making me look up at him through my lashes. “Fuck sweetheart, you look so pretty with my cock down your throat.”

I started slowly moving my head along his shaft, running my tongue along the underside, causing Oscar to groan, slightly bucking his hips up. Lando’s fingers circled my hole a few times before slowly pushing in, making me moan around Oscar’s dick.

I continued sucking Oscar off, spit running down my chin and tears filling the corners of my eyes while Lando worked on opening up my whole, now steadily thrusting two fingers in and out of me. 

I could feel Oscar getting close by the way his thighs tensed under my hands, and his groans got louder. Before I could do anything, his fingers tightened in my hair and he pulled my head away from his dick. 

“Wanna cum when I’m in you sweetheart.” He said, his voice raspy.

Lando laid a gentle smack against my ass, his fingers pulling out of me making me whine at the loss of fullness. “Go on,” he said, signaling for me to move up.

I moved myself further up Oscar’s body, my dripping pussy rubbing against his cock, the tip nudging against my clit, making me moan. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” Oscar said, helping me sink down on his dick which hit all the right spots inside of me. “There we go,” he cooed, leaning forward to peck me on the lips. “Look so good on my cock.”

I tried to keep myself as relaxed as possible while Lando spread my ass cheeks and started slowly pushing himself inside of my other hole. Oscar rubbed his hands along my back in a comforting manner as Lando pushed the rest of himself inside of me, making me gasp, slightly out of breath.

“You’re taking me so well,” Lando said before leaning down and placing a kiss on my back. “So well, baby. That’s my good girl.”

They both stilled, waiting for me to give a go-ahead for them to move. I took a breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Move, please,” I said, my voice coming out more as a whine. “Please, need it.”

Lando started first, pulling himself out halfway before pushing back in. Oscar followed, planting his feet firmly against the bed so he could thrust up into me. They went slow, opting for slower, deeper and more passionate experience, rather than the fast, desperate and hard one they usually provided. 

I could feel my orgasm approaching, the stimulation of being filled in both holes and passion I could feel cursing between the three of us quickly bringing me to the edge.

Oscar sneaked his hand between our bodies and his fingers quickly found my clit. He toyed with it, rubbing it in circles. At the same time, Lando reached his hands around me, grabbing my tits and pinching my nipples through the material of the bra.

I couldn’t manage no warning other than the loud, pornographic moan that escaped me as I came. Both boys kept fucking me trough my orgasm, their own following soon after.

Oscar came first, his dick twitching as he emptied himself inside of me. Lando came right after, a grunt slipping past his lips as his cum filled up my ass. 

They both waited, giving me a moment to catch my breath before pulling out of me. I flipped over and laid down next to Oscar. Lando came over and laid down on my other side.

“We may have to spend more money if this is how you repay us.” Oscar said, wrapping his arms around me. 

Lando hummed, leaning his head down on my chest. “How about we buy you a car next. Then you can take us for a joy ride in it.”

“That’s possibly the best idea you’ve ever had, Lando.” Oscar replied with a hum.

“God, you two are insatiable.”

[simplyholl]

Reckless

Summary: When you act recklessly on a mission, Bucky gets mad at you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

See My Masterlist Here

You had really done it now. You made Bucky so mad, he couldn’t even look at you. You were paired together for a mission, and you acted recklessly. You got separated from him and instead of waiting for him, you found the Hydra bunker where they were hiding.

You burst in without a plan and they would have most likely killed you. But Bucky came in and saved you. On the way back, he wouldn’t look at you, speak to you, or even acknowledge your existence.

It took a lot for him to get angry. So you didn’t know how you could fix this. You were such good friends, and he always made time for you. It was going on three days and he ignored every text, call, FaceTime, and knock on his door. You didn’t even know why he was so upset with you. You had done stupid stuff during missions before.

Finally you had enough of the silent treatment, so you waited until it was his normal time to train. He liked to work alone, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone else being there and interrupting you. You made your way to the gym, disappointed that he wasn’t there, nobody was.

You were just about to leave and come up with another plan when you heard someone in the men’s locker room. You hoped it was Bucky as you entered, the smell of soap filled the steamy room. Your sneakers squeaked with every step on the wet tile floor.

You heard Bucky singing some old fashioned song. Following his voice passed the lockers, you step over Thor’s discarded shorts. You shake your head, feeling sorry for the cleaners Tony hired. You see Bucky’s head peaking over the shower door. For a split second, you debate turning around. But you want your friend back more than anything, so you continue all the way to the showers.

“James, we need to talk.” Bucky jumps at the sound of your voice. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s locker room.” He rolls his eyes, turning towards the spray of water. “You wouldn’t talk to me, I didn’t know when I’d be able to catch you.” He doesn’t answer, instead he picks up the shampoo bottle squirting some into his palm.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I just want you to talk to me.” He reaches up to wash the shampoo out of his hair, eyes closed. “I know you can hear me. Bucky, please?” You beg him but he continues ignoring you. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to. You set your phone down on the bench beside you. You reach down to take off your shoes then your socks.

You grab the handle to the shower door, letting yourself inside. Bucky’s eyes widen as he sees you in the shower with him. He makes an awkward attempt to cover his self. “Get out of here!” You walk over to him, “No! This is the only way to get you to pay attention to me!” You walk closer, “Tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

Bucky watches as the water sprays you, making your already tight workout clothes cling to your body. His throat bobs as he finally answers. “I’m not mad, I’m furious. You weren’t thinking. You never do. You went by yourself when you were told to wait, and if I hadn’t been close by, you would be dead.”

“I do stuff like that all the time, Buck. Why did it make you so upset?” Bucky takes a step toward you, removing his hands from his hardening cock. “Because I care about you! If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after that stunt you pulled.”

That was just the answer to send all your worries about crossing boundaries out the window. You press yourself against him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. When his lips met yours, it was like you were the only people in the whole world.

His metal hand makes quick work of your sports bra, ripping it right off you. The warm palm of his flesh hand meets your breast. He groans against your neck as his hands travel lower. He jerks your leggings off in one swift motion, throwing them to the side with a wet thud.

You were never so thankful that you didn’t wear panties as you were today. He reaches between you, long fingers dipping into you. You were so wet just from arguing with him, and he knew it. “All this from fighting with me, doll?” He smirks, knowing the effect it will have on you. You clench around his fingers as he curls them upward, his palm gently brushing your clit. “James” you moan, grasping his shoulders for support.

He removes his fingers from you, turning you around so fast that you don’t have time to register how empty you feel now. Bucky presses his body to your back, trapping you between him and the shower door. The cool door makes your nipples harden against it. You feel Bucky’s hard cock rub against the curve of your ass. You try to move to create some type of friction between you, but you can’t. His big body doesn’t budge. He uses his leg to spread you further.

You gasp as he thrusts into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before he plunges deeper, bottoming out. You claw at the shower door, as his thrusts grow brutal. His metal arm wraps around your waist, holding you where he wants you while his flesh hand grabs your chin. He tilts your face to look at him, “Are you going to do anything that stupid ever again?” He asks, his cock brushing that spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.

You can’t form words, it feels too good. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” Your eyes are glossy, you try to answer but you only make sounds. “My pretty baby, she’s too cock drunk to talk. Is that it, doll? Is my cock too much?” You manage to whisper yes, sending his ego into overdrive.

“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel like I do. I’ll never touch you again, if you don’t follow orders. Am I understood?” Visions of his old army days flood your mind, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. “Y-yes sir.” You stutter. He seems satisfied with your answer, holding you closer to him. His fingers dig into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises, marking you as his.

He snaps his hips one last time, burying his face into your shoulder as he comes inside you. He stays like that for a minute, catching his breath before turning you around. He checks all over your body, his forehead wrinkling as he notices the multiple marks he left behind. “Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just so caught up in the moment-“

“It’s okay. I really liked it.” You confess. Bucky sighs in relief, bringing you back under the water, he starts to wash you. “Hey what about me?” Bucky smirks, “What about you?” He washes down your arms. “I didn’t get off.” You state matter of factly. “Oh, I know. Only good girls get to cum.”

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[luveline]

hi jade!! could we get some kbd!steve where r has had a long week at work or something like that and steve makes her favorite for dinner and she just gets all clingy and a little teary and all that mushy ushy stuff

KBD —mom!reader, 2k

The drive home feels longer, roads you’ve taken each week day for years metamorphosed into winding lanes and long stretches of tarmac. You stop at the small store just outside of your neighbourhood and attempt to pick out a treat for each girl and your sweet husband. 

It costs more than the tags say it will. Your bag breaks on the way to the car. You have to go back into the store to buy Steve another glass coke, but he deserves it. If you think about crying on the street that leads into yours, it’s your secret. 

The door opens before you’ve parked the car. Avery waits on the stoop, shifting from foot to foot in excitement. The second the car is off, she’s barrelling down the step of the house without shoes. 

“Ave! Babe!” you say, laughing as she pins you in place. “No, go back inside! It’s so cold out here!” 

“I couldn’t wait to see you!” she whines. 

Steve is there and down the steps immediately. He grabs her up and tosses her over his shoulder, laughing but clearly disapproving, “I didn’t even hear the door, just you yelling,” he says. “Shit, come on, come inside, it’s freezing!”

“Steve, you’re not wearing socks either.” 

“I had to save my girl. Where’d she go, did you see?” 

Avery giggles roaringly against his back. “Dad, put me down!” 

Steve gets Avery unharmed back inside of the house. He lets you pass and locks the front door, it’s creaking, stuck handle slammed up and key turned. He puts the chain on, like you’re being followed, checking the peephole before turning to you with this look, arms out and hands up, a sign of relief coursing through him. “My girl,” he says, cupping your face in both hands. 

You give a surprised smile. 

“I thought I was your girl!” Avery says.

“You are my girl,” Steve says, tipping your head to one side. He’s smiling like it’s his birthday, or like you just told him you found a hundred dollars in one of your pockets. “But mom’s my girl, I have a couple, you know?” He talks to Avery, stares at you. “I’m glad you’re home. I have a surprise for you and I hate waiting.”

“You do?” 

He squeezes your cheek and parts from you. “Ave, go get some socks. I’m gonna turn the heating up. Wait, let me feel those feet before you go.” 

“You are not touching my feet, you tickle.” 

“Then go get some socks on them! Gosh, you’d think I just left the front door unlocked or something, the way she ran out.” 

He shares a big smile. 

In the kitchen, the shutters are open. The lingering piles of yet to melt snow in the back yard make the whole room white, illuminating the family table, the fridge covered in magnet-pinned drawings and appointment cards, the sink and all the drying dishes. Poor Steve, he must do the dishes three times a day before you get home. 

There are things covered on the stove waiting to be reheated, and in the oven, you can see a large ceramic baking tray. 

“What are you making?” you ask. 

“That’s your surprise, honey. That and one more thing.” 

You shake your head, nonplussed. “What?” 

Steve opens the cabinet under the sink to unveil a bouquet of flowers. Which means he must’ve gotten four girls dressed to take to the store on a day where he hadn’t needed to. He must love you a whole lot to bother.

“What’s in the oven?” you ask. 

Steve puts the bouquet in its vase on the table for you to inspect. “Your favourite, duh. All the trimmings. Enough for you to have three helpings, if you want.” 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Since when do we need an occasion?” he asks, taking your wrist across the table. 

You give the flowers a good long analysis. Your favourite flowers too, with baby’s breath, carnations and peonies to bulk it out, all light pinks or whites, the odd light blue one tucked throughout. 

“I think I was having a bad day,” you say. 

“What?” he asks worriedly. “What’s wrong?” 

He should know not to ask you like that when you’re upset to begin with. He’s lucky you don’t burst into breathless sobs there and then, but your eyes go hot, your waterline fills, and he’s all to easy to collapse against for a hug. The bag at your elbow clinks against him. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Sure, honey, but what happened?” 

You sound squeezes as an orange for juice as you explain it, wobbly in his arms, “It’s just been such a long week, m’sorry, and I had a bad day, and I got you a glass coke from Ernie’s but the bag broke, so I had to go back in and tell them I smashed glass out there–”

“Maybe Ernie should get better bags,” he says. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t cry over coke.” 

“No, you should never cry.” He encourages you back to kiss your nose, still smiling as he says, “Ever. They should make crying illegal, I don’t wanna see you doing it ever.” He taps you under the chin. “You’re home, cool? Nobody can bother you for the next two days, it’s just me, and your daughter, and your other daughter, and your other,” —he starts laughing as you do, infected— “daughter, and that baby. Also a daughter.” 

“Oh, yes. Who can forget my troop of girls,” you say, sniffling as he swipes under your eye with his thumb. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

You could tell him everything now, or you can save it up for tonight, tell his shoulder after dinner and a shower and a few hours of TV and chips. It’ll all feel less shitty then. And he’s drawn your attention where it should’ve been —where are your girls? 

“I’m okay. Thank you, handsome.” 

“Handsome.” He feels down your arm, pretty and warm among a cool-white kitchen. “Flirt. How about you go give your kisses and I’ll set the table?” 

“You sure?” 

He’s all smiles, it’s crazy. “The quicker I feed you the better, I’d wager. Kiss for luck?”

What luck? you think, but pout softly for a kiss that rocks your world regardless 

I’m a princess, you think, pushing the door that leads to the living room. Inside, Beth, the second eldest, is sitting with Wren, the baby. Wren is sitting on a playmat in a duckie covered onesie, smiling and giggling as Beth puts on a show. Beth’s holding an octopus toy and a Barbie, making them talk to one another in different voices. 

You don’t want to interrupt them, but Wren sees you over Beth’s head and starts doing the wiggly, nearly frantic things babies do when they’ve missed you. If you don’t grab her quickly she’ll burst into tears. 

“Beth!” you say, kneeling down beside her as you grab her sister. “Hi, bubby. What are you playing?” 

Beth reminds you that you’re beautiful, your smile on her lips as she says, “Mom! When did you come home?” 

“Just a few seconds ago.” You situate Wren on your chest for kissing, popping a few spares on Beth’s temple. “Okay? Good day?” 

“Great day!” 

“Good, I’m so glad.” 

Beth crawls to you to give you a hug from the side. Somewhere in the background, Avery calls, “Daddy! Dove is making a mess in my room AGAIN!” and Steve’s calling back, “Okay! I’ll be right there, Avery! Just gimme a minute!”

“DAD!” 

Wren gurgles at you. “Da?” she says. 

“Heard that, did you?” you ask her. 

Steve takes the long way, pushing into the living room and throwing a grin at the three of you on the floor. “Honey, I’ll be right back. The table’s set, okay? You can go sit down and I’ll start plating up.” He doubles back before he can leave, again staring at you with a smile. “Jesus, you’re perfect. I could just look at you forever.”

“Isn’t he charming?” you ask Beth. 

She gives an agreeable nod.  

The moment he’s gone you realise you actually don’t want him far away from you. It’s a strong feeling to understand it while bathed in love from two beautiful kids who missed you. Wren tries to kiss you, surely wanting one of her own, while Beth gets up and tries to persuade you too. 

“Come on, mommy. We can sit at the table.” 

So you go, mostly because she sounds adorable. You carry Wren to the table and find Steve’s already made her her soft food. You try to make baby food a few days worth at a time, but it’s nice to let her have little tastes of the same meal as everyone else. He’s blended some of the veggies into a bowl, sat cooled and waiting for her with a bib on the high chair. 

“Your daddy’s in great form today,” you mumble into her hair, sitting her down, and attempting to get the bib on her before she can grab her spoon. She’s enthusiastic, but not actually coordinated enough to use one yet. You sit down by the high chair to feed her. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Beth asks, taking your usual seat. 

“Yeah, of course. Want me to serve you now, or could you wait, bubby? Just until dad comes down.” 

Beth shakes her head. You forget sometimes that she’s not a baby, not a toddler, but a child big enough to grab her own knife and fork. “I’ll wait, just have some bread.” 

“Okay, bubby. Thank you. You gonna butter it yourself?” 

“Yeess,” she drags out. 

Steve brings Avery back, along with your last, grumpiest daughter, Dove. She isn’t necessarily miserable, just contrary. When she was Wren’s age she’d already mastered the word no, when she sees you, she glares at you, crying out in disbelief, “You’re in my seat!” 

“Come and sit on my lap, big girl, I gotta feed your sister.” 

“I don’t want to sit on your lap.” 

“That’s hurtful.” You pout at her with loving eyes. “Dove, didn’t you miss mommy? I missed you soooooo much.” 

Success. She climbs into your lap and lets you rub her arm while you can. Steve takes the seat on Beth’s other side, further away then you would’ve liked. He serves everybody their dinner, does it all beaming and fawning over his dinner guests. 

Your bad week fades away. By the time Steve’s stolen Wren-duty and you’ve finished your dinner, you’re feeling delightfully full and doubly loved. Like they know you need it, each of your daughters capable of doing so gives you a hug (or in Dove’s case, a kiss on the arm). 

Leaving you, and Steve, and baby Wren. 

“What do you think, milk?” he asks her. 

She seems to think it over. “Ba?” she asks. 

“Buppy? You want your buppy?” 

He pulls her out of her high chair, makes her a bottle of milk with her held to his chest, and then sits down in the chair next to you to cradle her and feed her a few ounces. 

“So,” he says, as though he isn’t exhibiting frankly audacious levels of dad-stamina and esteem, “about that long week, are you feeling okay?” 

You hold his wrist where he holds the baby. Wren’s getting so big, she takes up the length of his arm, a healthy chub around her neck and on her tummy. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, yeah.” 

“Just got on top of you?” 

“Yeah, I guess so. Shit, I didn’t get you your coke or anything for dinner. I got the girls chips.” 

“It’s okay, we have time to spoil them. They ate tons.” 

“What was breakfast like after I left?” 

“Avery was so happy she didn’t have school I don’t think she noticed there were no fruit slices.” 

You fall into conversation. He leans against your shoulder as you rub the length of his arm, encouraging your clinging to the fullest extent.