#smack him with all of my three year old force directly on the face

[marc--chilton]

USING HOUSE'S WORDS AGAINST HIM YESSSSS THEY'RE SO FATHER DAUGHTER!!! YESSSS THIS IS HOW YOU DESTROY ANY CONVERSATION WITH YOUR DAD!!!!!

[theadventuresofgarlandodra]

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- When Wick Met Crowley

Prev.

Three years ago…

“Sir Crowley, you truly were sent by angels to solve all our problems.”

Crowley remained knelt as the king showered praises on him. From the man’s position on the throne, it probably looked like Crowley was keeping his head bowed to the ground out of respect. And no noble was paying close enough attention to the aasimar’s eyes flicking from side to side. Watching them. Analyzing them.

The nobles looked like they were sharing a laugh, smirking and side eyeing the ‘simple’ paladin. The servants tried to keep their looks to themselves, but the ones they couldn’t hide were pitying. The way a butterfly pities the grasshopper tangled up in the spider’s web.

When the king finally took a breath, Crowley put a pleasant expression on his face. “Thank you, your majesty, but you speak too highly of me. I only wished to help, like any other good man would do,” he said, the lie sliding off his tongue smooth as honey. “As much as I’ve enjoyed my time in your beautiful lands, I will have to take my leave soon. There are others who need my assistance, as you had.”

“Leave? So soon?” The king looked disappointed, almost sad. “The time you’ve spent in my palace has passed so quickly.”

It’s been almost four months, Crowley thought, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent the obvious from slipping out. “I am grateful for your generous hospitality,” now that was laying it on a bit thick, even if he did love the suite he had been taking up space in, “but it is my creed, my oath, to go forth to help those who are in help, and once they no longer need me, I must move on.”

The king’s eyes briefly narrowed, his lip twitching as he forced himself to look as amicable as he always had. “Well, what is it I can give to you? Something to make any future journeys easier, or for you to enjoy your last night in my company,” he said.

And there it was. Crowley wanted to smack the king across the face. Crowley wasn’t like the rest of the country bumpkins the king had wheedled and conned into becoming his pets and pawns. No, he was smarter than that. He knew this king had a habit of tangling the people who worked for him into barbed snares and carefully worded contracts that would basically turn them into slaves. Usually they didn’t have the power or the nerve to fight back, resigning themselves to their cage. It was a beautiful cage, as far as cages went, but Crowley wasn’t a canary. If he had to compare himself to a bird, it would be a shrike.

Small, deadly, and with a penchant for impaling his prey in gruesome fashion.

Crowley had been careful to avoid anything that would tie him permanently to the king, not partaking in the glorious feasts or the company of the many beautiful courtesans and entertainers that the king decorated his palace with. He’d given the king every chance to stop playing this stupid game.

Well, you couldn’t fix stupid, and you couldn’t say no to a spoiled old man. No doubt if Crowley denied him again, he’d find another way to pin Crowley down. This problem had to be solved directly.

“Your generosity is so overwhelming, sir…” Crowley’s eyes flicked around the court again. He couldn’t get out of this alone. He needed an ally. Someone who was done with playing the songbird, the pretty statue in the corner, the slave who just needed a little push over the edge.

His gaze landed on a fire genasi and stayed there. Crowley vaguely remembered the minstrel’s beautiful music, but hadn’t given him much of a second look. Now he was taking that second look, and although the genasi tried to play it off as a face of resignation… there was some real rage behind those eyes that flickered like flames.

Perfect.

“But, if you insist, I suppose… I miss the music of my hometown.” Crowley sighed and rested a hand on his chest. “I dream of it every night, it makes my heart ache. If you have someone who can play the songs of Perre’daluney on a lute, I’d be eternally grateful.”

The king brightened up. “I have a man who can play any music you could ever want!” he clapped his hands. “Wick’of’Candle! Come forth!”

The fire genasi frowned but managed to put a pleasant expression on his face as he came forward. He cleared his throat. “I would be honored to perform for you, Sir Crowley,” he said.

Crowley smirked. “He’ll be perfect,” he nodded at the king, “please, have him sent to my suites tonight. I’d like to enjoy his music in… private. To help put me to sleep, you understand.”

There was a little snickering from the nobles and for a moment Crowley thought the genasi was going to set his instrument on fire. The king chuckled, looking darkly at the seething genasi. “Wick, you do whatever our privileged guest wants, and you’ll be well rewarded yourself,” he said.

“Yes, your majesty.”

That night Crowley was lounging on his couch, wearing one of the fancy robes he’d deprived himself of these several months, when the door banged open and in marched ‘Wick’of’Candle’.

“All right, what are you actually up to?” the genasi crossed his arms. “If you’re from Perre, I will eat my lute. I grew up there. I never heard of a ‘Crowley’.”

“Maybe I lived in Perre’daluney after you did,” Crowley said, glancing up from his couch. “You’re a genasi, you live much longer than most.”

“And you’re an aasimar, but you’re still not from Perre. No one who lived there called it Perre’daluney, they just call it Perre. So I say it again. What are you actually trying to do here?”

Crowley sighed before he sat up, shrugging off the robe. “Have a seat, pour yourself a glass of wine, Wick’of’Candle. We have plenty to discuss.”

“I’d rather remain sober. I’ve drunk enough of his majesty’s wine. And just Wick will do.” Wick did at least take a seat, his eyes suspiciously glancing Crowley up and down. “I don’t know what impression you have of me, but I’m not a whore. I’m a minstrel. I play music, not under the sheets.”

“Not happily though, do you?” Crowley smiled as Wick winced. “What? I’m not blind, nor deaf. Your music is beautiful but it’s… missing something. I’m not really much of a musician, but something still sounds off.”

Wick’s jaw clenched, but the minstrel took a deep breath to calm himself. “… If you really must know, I was a part of a duo. That is probably what sounds missing,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Crowley tapped his chin and leaned forward. “If you had a partner, he would’ve been tricked into one of the king’s contracts too. He didn’t just leave. Who was he? And what happened to him? Did he try to run away?”

The genasi looked at the floor before sighing. He set his instrument to the side. “We tried leaving a few months in, and this is what happened to me.” Wick had been dressed in this gaudy beaded vest that he easily shrugged off, and when he turned his back the scars that stretched across his back were clearly from a whip. He twisted back forward. “It was bearable when I had Wax though.”

“Wick’of’Candle… perhaps… Wax’of’Candle? Traveling brothers or lovers?” Crowley asked.

“Brothers… Wax was my little brother,” Wick swallowed and Crowley recognized that brief tensing of his body, the clenching of his fists and the squeezing of eyelids. Pain. Pain more horrible than anything Crowley could do with the sharpest blades in the world. “He’s gone.”

“And not by running away… execution?”

Wick remained still.

“Murder? Did one of the nobles get a bit rough with him?”

Wick pressed his lips firmly together.

“No…ah. He took the coward’s way out. Killed himself and left his big brother to carry the burden alone.”

Crowley learned quickly how poor his choice of words were when in the next moment he was tackled into the couch. Wick’s hand clamped around the paladin’s neck and squeezed down on his airpipe.

“He. Wasn’t. A coward,” Wick growled. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rip your throat out.”

Crowley gasped before he grasped the dagger he’d hidden in his robe and pulled it out, pressing it against Wick’s exposed ribs. He didn’t need to say anything, the blade did that enough. Wick gritted his teeth before he eased up, finally releasing the paladin and getting off of him.

“You’re going to tell the king I’ve attacked you, I assume?” the genasi mumbled.

“Please,” Crowley coughed, massaging his bruising neck. “I’d sooner slit my guts open. No, Wick, I need you. And you need me.”

“I need you?” Wick snorted. “Please.”

“No, I’m being serious. Sit down, please, and pour me some of that wine. I think I saw the darkness coming to drag me to hell.”

Wick still looked suspicious but he did as he was told. After Crowley downed the wine, he sighed with relief. “I’m not a fool- not implying you were, just naive- and I know the king is planning on turning me into one of his assets as soon as I get myself in debt to him. No doubt he’ll use your company as a bargaining chip. And if I simply continued to deny his offers, he’d find another way to keep me. I don’t deal well with being kept, or threatened, or blackmailed. I value my freedom.”

Wick frowned. “But you’re a… paladin…” his eyes widened. “You are a paladin, yes?”

“In a way, I am. But I’m not the paladin that idiot king thinks I am.” Crowley snorted. “You think I do this to help people? Out of the good of my heart? Please. In our world, you take or you’re taken. I’m taken by no one, and I abide by no code. I do this for what I get out of it- gold. Wealth. Magical items. I’ve collected quite a bit, and it’ll be more than a little difficult to continue to live the life I want to under the thumb of some fat royal arsehole who thinks he’s smarter than me. I need allies. I have one. And with you, I’ll have two.”

“Right…” Wick tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. “And why will I be your ally exactly?”

“I’ll let you kill the king in any gruesomely horrible way you want. And you won’t have to stick by my side once we leave this gods forsaken country in the dust. You can go home, get back to traveling, I don’t care. Your will is going to be yours again, and I’ll never take that from you.”

Wick breathed in sharply and Crowley smirked.

He had him.

“… I might be able to do some work here…” Wick got up to check the door was locked before returning. “Right. Just watch.”

Wick plucked his flute from his belt. His eyes slid half shut and his fingers danced up and down the instrument before they popped back wide, the flickering orange flames in his irises going blue and then white.

Flames danced around the room and Crowley felt his dagger heat up where he’d left it on his lap. He barely had the sense to toss it before the metal starting glowing red hot. “… How did you figure that out?” the paladin asked.

Wick lowered his flute and the pride on his face was impossible to be missed. “After my brother passed, I suddenly tapped into it while practicing the songs we once shared. My mother was a follower of bardic tradition, she was only a human, but she could cast wonderful magic. I never bothered to learn it, I thought it was too hard. It turns out it just takes your heart being metaphorically ripped from your chest to start using magic. I’ve been using fire magics since I was a small child, so the spells I’ve put together so far tend to veer in that direction. I’ve just been practicing in my quarters whenever I have the time to breathe.”

Interesting. Crowley chuckled and slowly nodded, a plan forming in his mind. “A mostly self taught bard. You’re a surprising one, Wick’of’Candle, but I think we’re going to raise hell in this royal sty. First off, I need to get a message outside the gates to my companion, Turgut Tuun. We’ll need his help, he’s a giant buffoon, but he’s reliable since I feed him. After that, we’re going to need some supplies. I take it you know the people in this palace who have little loyalty to their king and are willing to look to the side for some more sketchy things?”

Wick nodded.

“Good. We’re going to need the gossip mongers, a few healers and doctors that are willing to accept bribes. And we’re going to need a cursed jewel I keep in my treasures, and we’re going to need bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. It’s going to be like the Plague of the Red in here, and after that it’s going to be the end of the king’s perfect world. As for that heating metal trick you can do… I have an idea for that.”

~*~

Five generations, his family had ruled this country. Five generations of wealth, and power, and truly King Jowell thought he’d had it all.

And now it was gone.

The palace was in flames. Zombies and skeletons ran wild through the streets. His family- heirs, wives, mistresses, all dead. A few were now the reanimated bodies that tore through his courts. His once beautiful courts.

He had it all. And in the matter of weeks, it was gone.

The paladin that was the cause of his undoing stood in front of him, smiling as the king hung from chains that were ice cold despite the fires roaring around him.

“How could you do this to me!?” Jowell shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’re a paladin! You have an oath of loyalty! Of abiding to your word and listening to your king!”

Crowley tossed his head back, laughing and laughing like Jowell had told the funniest joke. “Oh, your majesty, you overestimate the strength of oaths. They’re very easily broken, and I broke mine ages before you had the misfortune of thinking I was the answer to all your prayers. I’m not a gift from heaven, I’m a present from hell. A lesson to be learned from all of this, not that you’ll benefit from it- never beat your broken hounds. The moment you turn your back, they’ll bite.”

Jowell watched as Wick came out of the flames, dressed in the finest of noble’s clothing with a minimal of the previous owner’s blood spatter across it. “You think this looks good on me, Crowley?” he asked, even striking a pose.

“Do a spin, let me decide,” Crowley mocked pensiveness as Wick did a twirl. “Mmm, it’s a bit too loose around the arse. You’ll need to get it tailored.”

Wick laughed, for the first time since his brother passed Wick tossed his head back and laughed. Jowell screamed in rage and pulled at his chains, his wrists turning black as the necrotic energy burned his flesh. “You traitor! I gave you everything you wanted! And this is how you repay me?!” he roared.

Wick’s laugh came to a stop and the genasi turned his flickering eyes on the king. “No, you didn’t give me everything I wanted, your majesty. You took everything from me.” Wick produced a collar from the bag he had thrown over his shoulder. “All I wanted was to have my brother by my side for all my days, to compose the most beautiful music this world has ever heard. And you sent him to that woman, she took his one joy in this world, and he couldn’t live after that.” Wick reached into his bag and pulled out an iron collar. “While I was setting the dungeons ablaze, I found this. You put one of these on me when I wouldn’t perform after Wax died and had me dragged around the court like a dog. I think it’ll be a tighter fit on your fat neck, but it’ll do the job just fine.”

Crowley took the collar, balancing it between his hands before he walked up to the king, snapping it around his neck. “All right, nice and tight. I’m excited to see what this is going to do,” he said before nodding at Wick. “Do your thing.”

Wick twirled his flute between his fingers.

“Your final song, your majesty. Enjoy hell.”

Wick put the flute to his lips and played a song. The king didn’t know what was going on until he felt the collar on his neck heat up.

Then he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

There was nothing he could do to alleviate the pain. The iron collar’s red hot glow seared through his skin, burning into his flesh and simultaneously scalding any bleeding while burning through it. The king’s eyes rolled back as his clothing finally caught on fire, and there was a final minute of agonized screaming before he went limp. Crowley crouched down to see that the collar had burned through his throat, if it had kept going the king would likely be decapitated.

“Huh. You really went at it, huh?” he turned just in time to see Wick fall to his knees, the genasi gasping for breath and his eyes going dull. “All right, you went a little too far it looks. You’re not exactly a long term caster, idiot, you had him dead by the time it seared through his vocal cords.”

Wick glowered up at the paladin, too out of breath to speak. Crowley sighed before he helped Wick to his feet, letting the bard use him as support. “Come on, we’ve done what we’ve needed done. And I’d rather be a thousand miles from here before anyone catches onto what’s happened.”

~*~

The king was dead. Wick was free. Wax had been at least partially avenged.

Then why did Wick feel so hollow inside?

Crowley had made camp after a full night and day of walking, Wick had yet to leave the paladin’s side. That hot iron spell had really taken it out of him, and being on his own sounded like a new kind of hell.

For the first time in years, he was outside of that palace. Back on the road. Eating rations heated by the campfire, with fellow travelers enjoying the rest after a long day. Like he used to do with Wax.

Gods, he was supposed to feel better after nearly burning that bastard’s head off. But the pain hadn’t gone anywhere, just tightened around his heart so strongly it felt like he was about to break. Nothing had been made better after all. Instead, every time Crowley cracked a joke and Turgut obediently laughed, Wick’s heart sunk lower.

He’s supposed to be here.

He shouldn’t be gone.

He needs to be here.

He’s not here and he’s never coming back.

“Wick?”

Wick jerked out of his reverie to see Crowley looking at him. At least the paladin didn’t bother faking that he cared. It was quite clear Crowley didn’t care about anyone other than himself.

“Did you know that hags hoard a lot of treasure? Mostly magic items, and not as much as a dragon, but enough to be worth the trouble most of the time.”

Wick clenched his jaw. “Why are we talking about hags?” he asked.

“Because, if I was as hellbent on revenge as you, I’d be heading back out there to make sure every hag suffers for what happened to your baby brother,” Crowley patiently explained. “They’re a nasty bunch though, they rarely do their own dirty work. Usually they have their hexblooded children handle the worst of it, or they hire hobgoblins like my friend Turgut here.” Turgut noticeably brightened up at the word ‘friend’ but tried to play it off as his dramatic posturing. “Or ogres, or… really a bunch of other things. I’m definitely a little bored with what I’ve been dealing with lately. Bandits are so par for the course I could kill an entire village of them and have time for tea. A hag could liven things up, so to speak. So, I’m going to kill hags. Would you like to kill hags?”

Wick swallowed.

Well, maybe the king wasn’t enough. Maybe if he managed to rid the world of a few hags, it would help. And who knows… maybe he’d be able to exact his revenge on the hag who hurt Wax.

“I suppose I could pass the time with you. Not like I have anything else to do.”

Next

[k-indie]

the maid's are doing what now?

synopsis: you've been reprimanded by the king and a few months later, you make some new friendships that are... spicy

pairings; sukuna, suguru, toji x reader | bit of nsfw in this chapter eh

pt 2 \\ the maid | @tnjiku @thevirgotriplets for y'all bc mmf I hope I did right by someone in here. Chap three gon be a blastttt hint: reader gets a massage in return for her services bc service Dom Geto !

Un • Deux • Trois

His lingering gaze on your kneeling form was enough to make anyone shudder, the hold he held on the back of your head, your hair gripped tightly in his large hands making you wince slightly at the tug, but you were not afraid of this man or anything he was capable of. You didn't really care anyway, just couldn't wait to get out of his hold and into the bedroom you were given to sleep in for the night before you moved in fully. He made sure of telling you that before he started ordering you around after lunch. And even though he liked how quickly and efficiently you worked, he couldn't let that little stunt slide no matter how amused he was...

So, here you are, on your knees and subdued for this man. You were half sure he was going to kill and the other half sure he was going to let you go with a few bruises and scars.

No, he has other plans regarding your life. But he'd definitely leave a few bruises here and there.

"That was quite a stunt you pulled today. I'd say I'm proud..."

"But?"

"You need to know your place. And cutting my subordinates is disrespectful to me."

You rose a brow and lifted your top lip in disgust. "Well, your subordinate shouldn't be laying his grubby little fingers where he has no business placing them."

He pulled your hair harder, eliciting another wince from you and he squatted to your level, face dangerously close to yours once again. "And you have no business meddling in my affairs. If my subordinate so much as looks at you wrong, keep moving. I'm not paying you to do anything but clean my estate-"

"And wipe your ass. I got it."

A loud smack resonated through the room, cheek and the corner of your lips stinging at the sensation. Your tongue darted out to lick the blood you could feel slowly trickling down your mouth and you smiled mockingly at Sukuna. "Do it again."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nah, I just said to do it again-"

On the opposite side, he back-handed you, making your kneeling position falter to your left side slightly and you rotated your jaw and put a hand up to it to massage the skin over the bone. "Mm, my five-year-old niece hits harder than you."

He growled lowly at your comment and used his assaulting hand to grip your jaw and force your face upwards to look at him how he wanted you to. His grip on your hair tightened once more while you tried to balance yourself and instinctively placed a hand on his broad chest. He almost flexed it at the feeling of you touching him, something he didn't realize he would've liked so much if it hadn't been for your bratty attitude he'd been dealing with all day.

Your hand against his chest gripped the fabric of his dress shirt tightly when he suckled at the blood on your lip, surprising you when he bit both of your lips before roughly pulling back, nose pressed against yours and breath fanning over your lips.

Your eyes were half-widened, a small expression of confusion embracing your features while his eyes hungrily dribbled over your form. "If this is your apology for disrespecting me, you need to work on the delivery."

Before he could respond, your free hand yanked his hair, pulling his head downward, surprising him at the force you used and the speed with which you mildly subdued him. Your eyes roaming over his strong features and your lips practically pressed against his. "But I can show you."

You laid your lips directly to his, finally giving in to the urge to bite his lips in return, his knees touching the floor to balance himself against you, hands gripping each others hair and bodies in a hateful embrace as your lips locked together hungrily, angered lips fighting each other for dominance.

His hand left your chin and slid down your body, feeling your breast against his palm before pressing against your stomach and slipping to the hip, giving it a firm squeeze and eliciting a low growl from you before you pulled back. You were granted a short-lived moment to breathe before he was attacking your face again, hungrier now as he nipped, bit, sucked, and licked your lips, pressing his tongue past to taste you, mark the territory he would eventually be calling his very soon.

Your back was against the floor now, his hips holding your legs apart as he ground his hips into yours, earning a soft groan into his mouth before you pushed him away again. "Apology accepted... my liege."

You licked your lips and slipped from underneath him, getting up and turning to face him, "If it's alright with you, I'm going to finish my last task of the night, sir."

He was already standing, following closely behind you out of his office before turning down a dark hallway to the west wing of the estate, seeming satisfied but still annoyed. You figured he'd really reprimand you later when you least expected it.

It had been a few months, probably four if anyone was counting, and you'd been docile for most of the time, not wishing for worse than what was given to you a few nights after your hateful make-out session with your boss. You'd grown closer with Ji-ah and Aki now, and they called you onee-san because of your protective care for them, disregarding the fact that you're all the same age.

On the occasion, you did take blame for some of Aki's mistakes despite her being a seasoned housekeeper and assisted Ji-ah in taking care of certain tasks that Suguru and Toji requested so they wouldn't take to punishment for any mistakes.

You learned quickly and committed many things to memory, surpassing your coworkers in the plan for the housekeepers' tasks and how the heads of the household liked things cleaned, prepared, and what sort of music they liked to hear at certain times. The 'masters' especially enjoyed how you knew when they needed coffee, alcohol, or tea and how they each liked it prepared.

Your first meeting with the other two heads was as normal as ever, it was as if they were talking to an employee at any other establishment; polite even if was fake, and charismatic. Toji was a bit more standoffish than Suguru but you didn't mind it. They weren't cruel like Sukuna was and it was nice that they even bothered to greet you because they could've ignored you and moved on with their days acting as though you didn't exist, which didn't bother you at all because you barely knew them and you'd never know if they were cruel or not at first.

The only time you'd seen Toji out of his center was when Aki accidentally spilled a dark liquor on his white sweatpants to which you immediately responded to and pushed her away kindly and offered your services to the bothered man. When he looked up at you, holding a towel and immediately pressing it to his leg where the liquor spilled, he slowly calmed down, eyes trained on the way you smiled with squinted eyes as you dabbed at his sweatpants and apologized before offering to take them to get them washed.

That was the second time you'd interacted with him and he knew his friend made a good choice hiring you. He liked how you were quick to handle a situation; killing it where it grew instead of leaving the situation to fester. He agreed right there, ordering you to pull his sweatpants off for him and to bring him another pair. And you did so, ignoring the physical innuendo he shot your way, smirk ghosting his lips at the press of your lips together when you'd tugged them off, uncaring of the way his boxers outlined his size, and you were on your way to the laundry room to toss the sweats in the wash before running across the estate to find his room and a new pair of sweats for him.

Later that day, Aki had thanked you for taking over because she claimed to be afraid of Toji ever since she arrived there, not as much as Sukuna scared her but Toji was a different sort of daunting.

Suguru wasn't as flippant, he actually gave you your space, but when you weren't looking, his eyes had been all over you more times than he could keep track of. From the curve your ass to the way your thighs looked positively delectable and made him wish to do unspeakable things to you.

But all of that was nothing, not a thing on your mind when you were between your friend's legs sucking her clit as if you'd never do it again. The soft heat convulsing around your fingers when you rubbed against her sweet spot, turning your fingers around in her pussy and reaching as far as you could, pushing her legs up and telling her to hold them for you so you could get a better angle.

And when she finally did, she let a howl of pleasure when you sucked her clit and lightly ran your teeth over it, tongue beating up the tip of her bundle and fingers rubbing against her cervix so sweetly and you were pretty sure she was about to gush all over them.

"That's it Ji-chan... cum for me, pretty girl."

She all but obliged your command, mewling your name as you rubbed her clit with your thumb and removed your other hand to lap at her nectar, so sweet on your tongue. She gripped your hair in one hand, letting her legs drop on your shoulders and you held her waist in place as you went back to licking and nibbling on her clit. Her body was shaking violently as another orgasm washed through her body and covered your fingers and tongue once again. This time, she let out a loud scream that you made haste to muffle.

"Shut up, or they'll know what we're-"

"So, this is what you've been doing in your free time, (Name)?"

You turned your head slightly, facing the owner of the voice but never leaving the girl's pussy alone and you stuck your tongue out, wiggling it quickly against her clit before shoving two fingers back into her winking slit and fingering her furiously.

"We-we, ahhh~ (Name)- ah! Stop... I'm gonna cum again- plea- ooohh~"

She couldn't even finish when you'd dropped a finger into her cervix entrance and rubbed into the hole, feeling her pussy slowly dripping and you started to impale her on your finger faster, her walls contracting again and her body locking up when he came again. And just as she squirted all over your hands and face, you were pulled back by your hair, "I will not tolerate being ignored when I'm speaking to you."

He didn't look angry at all. In fact, you would go so far as to say he looked a little jealous and a lot amused. Your smile was genuine this time, Ji-ah's cum sparkling on your lips, chin, and chest. "Yes, my liege. As of late, this is our evening pastime before bed. Forgive me for ignoring you, but I take care of my girls before I let a man interrupt."

A single finger trailed in between Ji-ah's folds as you spoke, occasionally rubbing at her clit and sometimes slipping into her pussy.

"She belongs to me. What makes you think you have the right to fornicate with my property?"

You smirked now, eyes glaring up at him darkly, "That statement alone. You treat your 'servants' as though they are property instead of what they actually are. I treat the same people with kindness and respect. And Ji-ah needed some comfort, so I was doing what I know how to do best and... provided that. I mean, you can ask every single one of your servants what I do for them and I guarantee you'll be pleased with what you hear."

He swatted your hand away from Ji-ah's dripping cunt and snatched you up onto your feet. "If I catch you doing this again without my permission, don't expect mercy, foolish girl."

You lifted your hand to lips slowly and placed your middle and ring fingers --the ones that were in Ji-ah's pretty cave-- into your mouth, sucking lightly on them before parting them and licking between them, watching the stern glance that Sukuna was sending you, and you let your tongue shake side to side between them and smiled again, verging on evil. "Okay, daddy."

His eyes widened ever-so slightly and he immediately went back to his usual scowl, "Go to your room, I'll deal with you later."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say his tone was actually soft for once, but you refused to believe he could be so easily affected by something so slight, but you were you and Sukuna was Sukuna, so you allowed the idea to stay on your mind for a moment longer until he released his tight hold on your hair and let you slide past him, hips sliding against his teasingly with one hand ghosting over his stomach. Your eye contact with him breaking when you were shoulder to shoulder, turning on your heel and leaving the room leisurely and you knew he was watching you walk, so you gave him a small strut-show. For the dreams, you thought.

You heard Sukuna groan and you almost wished you could see what he was going to do to her, but you assumed it was going to be consented fucking because Ji-ah had explained that Sukuna, Toji, and Suguru had had sexual relations with their maids on the occasion, the best ones being left to their maid duties and the worst ones... well probably a member of the 36 unnamed women that you had yet to grasp the backstory on.

You'd brushed your teeth twice that night just to get the smell of kewchie out of your mouth so you could wake up smelling fresh and feeling it, no disrespect to your new baby girl. You spent almost an hour in the bathroom just taking time to spend on shaving your legs, pits, and other locations, as well as hair care and skin care. And finally your teeth.

When you left the bathroom in your thin nightgown, silk and lace sticking to the perspiration on your body from the heat of the bathroom, your eyes met small black ones that pierced your soul and damn near made you gasp for air, but that damned poker face the three men loved to hate was back in place as usual.

"Suguru-sama, how may I assist you, sir?"

He was sitting at the edge of your bed, facing the door of your bathroom and watching you lean coolly against the threshold, arms crossing and right foot propped up on the ball of it.

He had to admit you were a beauty and he wanted to experience anything from you more than Sukuna had, and perhaps he wanted you to use that mouth on him instead of Ji-ah.

They all heard you.

Every single head of the estate was groaning at the screams and mewls that left Ji-ah's lips and they knew it was you. This never happened before you came along because the employees were too afraid to fornicate in the same house as their employers and the same men who could end their lives in a second.

"I just wanted to talk." He patted the spot next to him, motioning for you to have a seat right next to him. And you stared at the spot for a moment before pushing off the wall, cautiously walking towards him as you kept your eyes on his form, seating yourself as far away from him as possible. That earned you a small chuckle and he was already looking at you when you were fully comfortable in your upright position across the bed from him.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. You can come closer if you want. I just needed to take my mind off some things."

You smiled at him kindly, understanding what he seemed to need rather than what he was wanting at that moment. Four months wasn't long enough for you to do something like this for a random man, but he was the kindest to you out of all of the men you worked for.

You bit your lip for a moment before standing, eyeing him sweetly and tilting your head and he found it so cute that you were acting like this in front of him, the poker face subsiding into one of empathy and kindness.

"Do you mind if I grab something from the bathroom? It'll just be a second."

He nodded once, looking up at you curiously as you quickly turned and waddled into the bathroom. A long moment passed before you walked back out with what looked like an oil. You smiled at him as you kneeled in front of him. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

Your nose was pierced with a smell that relaxed your senses from Suguru's feet alone. He smelled so damn good and you had to fight to hold back from moaning at the smell permeating the air around you. You looked up at him and lifted one of his legs, making quick work of his sock and tossing it to the side, spreading oil into your palms and rubbing your hands together quickly before beginning a foot massage for him that had him surprised and partly speechless.

Had he ever had a woman massage him before?

Perhaps. But no one could make him feel so good like this and genuinely working on him, at that. He watched you work, eyebrows relaxed, face serene as you gave his feet a knuckle massage at the sole of his foot. He groaned lowly, watching you switch to his other foot and repeating the same maneuver on it.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Just fine. Not many women are capable of giving me such attention."

You chuckled softly at his comment. "Because they're scared of you."

You bit your lip, looking back up at him and releasing it to offer another smile when his eyes softened at you. "Perhaps. Why aren't you?"

"Why aren't I what, sir?"

"Scared of me."

You hummed to yourself for a moment, finally knuckling the sole of his other foot, "I just don't think living in fear of another human being is logical."

It was his turn to hum now, and he let a chuckle resonate from his chest, a small smile forming on his lips and you weren't surprised to mentally tell yourself how sexy that was.

"Do you mind giving me a full body massage? I'd like to talk more, too."

You were now surprised, hearing his request partly made your heart flutter at the idea of massaging his entire body, and partly because you were unsure of what he was adamant about speaking about.

"I don't mind. Do you mind me undressing you or would you prefer to?"

"Undress me, beautiful."

You smiled at the nickname and started with his shirt, gingerly pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side before pulling his pants down, and you weren't entirely surprised to see he had gone commando in his linen pajamas.

You ignored the nakedness of the man and the small smirk he was giving you, eyeing how you made it a mental note to ignore it at all costs. And now, you were greeted by a very naked Geto Suguru who was watching you watch him in all his glory. And he was expecting a mind-blowing orgas- massage from you that you would lovingly and gently give to him only because... well, it's Suguru.

© pulchritxde | chapter three might be up tomorrow or tuesday, depends. haha.

[finleycannotdraw]

🌹🌹🌹

thank you!!! you sent three emojis so I’m giving you three little snippets<3

1.

“Okay, I have to give that to him,” Fiebron says to Arnolf, who smacks him. “Seriously, witcher, we’re just curious. We knew Jaskier when he was fifteen and stupid.”

“Now he’s twenty-five and stupid,” the witcher replies. “Go away.”

“What’s your horse’s name?” Arnolf asks.

“Roach,” says the witcher. “Go away.”

“Why’d you name her that?”

“Felt like it. Go away.”

“Why’d—”

“Go away.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Fiebron sighs. “Guess we can go torture it out of Jaskier.”

A fist slams into the wall in front of his face, and he shrieks. Geralt is now looming over him, glaring like he means it. Arnolf is the only thing stopping Fiebron from wilting into the hay.

“If you touch my bard, I will have your skin on a clothesline within the hour,” he growls.

—

Fiebron and Arnolf are two ocs of mine for this fic! They’re bards who were Jaskier’s old classmates and they have absolutely zero braincells. To use another quote from Jaskier later in the fic, “those two couldn’t harm a fruit fly if you have them a sledgehammer.” if you want to know more about them feel free to ask!!

2.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says surprisedly. “I thought, you know, since you’re angry with me and all, that you’d be chomping at the bit to get me up before the roosters and get back on the road.”

Geralt doesn’t open his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Right,” Jaskier whispers, and Geralt can hear him shuffling to get comfortable, still on his back. Just when he thinks the bard has drifted off, he pipes up again: “Which part was stupid, exactly?”

“Hm,” Geralt says, and then, “the part where I’m angry with you.”

Jaskier is silent, and Geralt’s cursing himself, and then Jaskier’s face is shoved into his neck, his body pressed up to Geralt’s. It’s an awkwardly sideways attempt at a hug, but Jaskier smells relieved and tired and something else, and—

He’s rolling away again, suddenly, as though Geralt’s touch burned him, as though Geralt’s touch contains the same violence as the princess’s outburst at dinner. Geralt wants, desperately, to reach over and pull him back, but he forces himself to stillness and does his very best to ignore the sound of Jaskier’s heart, beating within arms’ reach, racing away but never gaining any distance.

In the morning they wake up tangled up in each other’s limbs, as they both knew they would. Jaskier, spitting Geralt’s hair out of his mouth, is brushing his own out of his face as he sits up, not quite blocking the sunbeams from spearing directly into Geralt’s eyes. They don’t talk about the previous night. Roach is mocking him as they disembark, but Geralt ignores her, and ignores her even harder when Jaskier offers her an apple.

He also ignores how he starts craving Jaskier’s touch after that night. Hopefully it will go away.

(It doesn’t.)

—

tl;dr they’re stupid!

aaaannnndd 3.

“You should know better than to run off without telling me,” she scolds.

“Bye Mister Witcher! Bye Mister Jaskier!” she yells over her mother’s shoulder. “I love your horse! And your hair flowers!”

Jaskier waves, and Geralt looks extremely disgruntled.

“Mama, put me down,” she demands. “I can walk on my own.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” her mother sighs, setting her down. “You shouldn’t walk up to strangers in the street like that, honey. Especially not witchers.”

“But he was nice,” she protests. “His husband was putting flowers in his hair! He let me pet his horse!”

“His… husband?”

“The man who writes all of the songs about him!” Marcy doesn’t understand the big deal about the witcher having a husband. She’d figured her mother, who has a husband herself, would understand the decision.

—

Marcy (and her mom) are other ocs for this fic. Marcy is a friendly 7-year-old who approaches Geralt and Jaskier at a market.

thanks for the ask! I love talking about my writing and I love these idiots :)

[blouisparadise]

We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles.  Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[hyogonokitsune]

blush -- suna rintarou x reader

here’s some soft suna smut, go fetch!

edit: here’s pt 2 and pt 3

virginity loss, slight praise kink, oral (f receiving), whoops! rintarou has feelings

4700 words

--

You were not quite sure how you all ended up on this topic, but it didn’t surprise you one bit that Atsumu was the one to bring it up.

“So how old were ya when ya lost it?” he asked with a grin on his face.

Suna glanced up at the sky as he thought about his answer. “Fourteen, I guess.”  

“Ugh, man! You beat me!” Atsumu groaned in annoyance. “I was fifteen.” It was slight, but you caught Suna giving him a self-satisfied smirk. Atsumu turned to his brother next. “What about you, ‘Samu? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Pfft, like hell I’d ever tell you,” was the only response he gave.

The four of you were walking through Inarizaki’s dark campus together after the team’s evening practice. It was early autumn, and although the days were still warm, the temperature at night was beginning to dip lower and lower. You shivered as a crisp breeze blew past, digging your hands further into your jacket pockets.

“What about you, y/n?” Atsumu asked, peering down at you. “How old were ya?”

You had hoped he’d forgotten about you, but now that he had directly asked you could feel your cheeks reddening slightly. “I, uh, I haven’t done it yet,” you answered sheepishly.

“What, seriously?! You’re a virgin?” Atsumu’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly squinched shut when Osamu smacked him on the back of the head.

“Yell it a bit louder, why don’t ya? I don’t think everyone on campus heard you, dumbass.”

“Ouch, sorry,” Atsumu muttered in apology, but your blush had already deepened. “I’m just a little shocked to learn that our precious manager is a virgin.”

“It’s not really that big of a deal, honestly,” Suna said, his voice low. It was a little unusual to hear him defend anyone, but you were grateful for it all the same.

“Ya know, y/n, if ya ever wanna lose your virginity, I’d be happy to help out,” Atsumu said, giving you a salacious smirk. You rolled your eyes at his offer, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you flicked him on the side of his head.

The path split then, and Suna turned left to continue on by himself to the campus dorms. He waved goodnight to the three of you, and you noticed that his eyes lingered on you for half a second too long before he turned away.

 --

 Click, click, click

Your thumb pressed repeatedly on the end of your pen as you stared hard at the words in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off.” You looked up at the sound of Suna’s voice, his irritation plain on his face. “It’s annoying.”

The two of you were sitting on the floor of his room, Suna propped up against his bed and you leaning against the opposite wall. Loose sheets of paper and an open textbook were on the floor between you as you both studied for an exam the next day.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you muttered, turning your attention back to Suna’s notebook on your lap. You were reading through it, checking that there wasn’t anything he had written down that you had missed in class. In truth, you were finding it hard to concentrate on the notes, as something else was nagging at your thoughts. You hadn’t been able to shake the conversation you’d had the other night, and despite Atsumu’s suggestion, he wasn’t the one you had been thinking about since then.

You had heard rumors around campus, and stories from some of the girls in your classes. At first it had made you a little uncomfortable to know such personal details about someone you had to see every day, especially since he wasn’t aware that you knew, but over time you gradually got used to it, and you were beginning to wonder about what it might be like to experience that firsthand. You were sure that it wouldn’t get out. After all, those rumors that you had heard had come from the girls themselves, never him; if you didn’t tell anyone, no one would ever have to know about it. Besides, after two and a half years spent on the same team, you two had grown rather close. There were few people that you could trust more than him, and, in your opinion at least, that was the most important factor influencing your decision.

You just had to think of a way to tell him.

Suna’s low voice cut through the silence in the room. “Maaan, I’m beat. What time is it?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

You glanced at your watch, sighing a bit when you saw how late it was. “Half past ten.”

“Fuck.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I think we’ve crammed as much as we possibly can for tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you replied as you stood up. The two of you started tidying up his room, and you gathered your books and pens into your bag.

“You want me to walk you to the bus stop?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“’Kay.”

You had your hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, but you found yourself unable to turn it.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, and when he turned to look at you, you felt an unexpected surge of confidence well up inside. If you didn’t tell him now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to.

Dropping your hand from the doorknob, you angled your shoulders to face him head on, willing yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you to take my virginity.”

There was a slight widening of his eyes, almost imperceptible, but you caught it before his face fell back into its usual indifferent mask. There was a moment or two of silence, and you tried to keep yourself from panicking; maybe he was just trying to gauge how serious you were.

Eventually he spoke, the corner of his lip quirking up into a cheeky grin. “You sure you don’t want Atsumu to be the one?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling. “I think I’d rather die, if I’m being honest.”

Suna laughed then, short but genuine, and you felt the tension ease from your shoulders. “I’ll do it, if that’s really what you want.”

You gave him a quick nod, hand reaching towards the door again.

“Come back here tomorrow.”

 --

 You knocked twice on Suna’s door and it opened almost immediately. He must have just recently gotten out of the shower because his hair was still damp, a droplet of water clinging to a lock of hair next to his cheek as he stared down at you.

“I was half-expecting you not to show up,” he said, a slight smile on his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked as you squeezed past him to step into the room; he offered no response.

You dropped your bag and blazer onto his desk chair, and when you turned around Suna had moved into the center of the room, within arm’s reach.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” There was an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice that made your heart melt.

You gave a slight nod, a small smile on your face. “I’m sure.”

Those two words were all he needed.

Suna closed the gap between you in one step. His left hand came to rest on your waist, his right moving up to cup your cheek as he leaned down to place his lips on yours. His kiss was unexpectedly soft, and you couldn’t stop a tiny gasp from escaping you in surprise. This wasn’t a Suna that you were familiar with; this was a Suna that was unbelievably tender with his touch, but you could feel a more passionate side simmering just beneath the surface by the way that his fingers ever so slowly applied pressure to your waist.

Unconsciously, your hands moved first to his shoulders, then to the back of his head, where your fingers buried themselves in his damp hair. Your touch encouraged him to draw you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist to press you against his body. His kisses were becoming firmer now, deeper, more urgent, his tongue slipping past your lips to brush against yours.

A feeling of warmth was in your chest now, spreading down throughout your body, and with it came a sudden feeling of uncertainty. Suna broke away from you and stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed, and the sight of him there suddenly stole away all the confidence you had felt earlier.

“Come here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The sound of it made your legs feel weak, but you forced yourself to step towards him. His hands moved to your hips, intending to pull you closer, but you put your palms on his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Wait a minute,” you said, a little breathless.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed hard. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You were embarrassed to admit it, but to your surprise Suna smiled, and the gentleness on his face was reassuring. “Yeah, I think it’s normal to be a little nervous.” One of his hands left your hip to move to your elbow. His fingers dragged lightly down your forearm and wrapped around your wrist, so that he could lift your hand and press it against his chest. “I’m a little nervous, too.” You could feel his heart against your palm, beating a little faster and harder than normal. The proof of his own anxiety made all of your apprehensions disappear, and you leaned down to kiss him. Before he could deepen it, you broke away again.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?”

“Could we turn the light off?”

“Of course,” he grinned, leaning over to switch off the lamp on his bedside table.

The room became dark, but the sun had only recently dipped below the horizon and your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold blue light coming in through the window. Suna’s body was outlined against the bed, his features hazy in the dim lighting, but his eyes were clear as he gazed up at you, imploring you to come closer.

He guided you down onto his lap, one of his hands on each of your thighs to place them at his sides. His kisses were needier now, almost hungry in the way that his mouth moved against yours. His hands slid up to rest on your hips once more, and when he slowly tugged them closer, dragging you over his hardening cock, you couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up from your chest. You could feel him grinning against your lips, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when the feeling of his body under your hands was causing that heat to grow in your core.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Suna asked, his voice breathy and low. A blush crept up your face at his words, the tone of them so much more intimate than anything you’d heard before. You grinded against him again, causing him to moan lightly into your mouth.

Your hands slid down to press against his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He paused kissing you just long enough to take his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before grabbing your waist and drawing you in even closer. Tentatively, you brought your hands back to his chest. The heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, his heavy breaths emboldened you, prompting you to explore more of his body. Your fingers traveled lightly over his chest, across his collarbones, onto his shoulders, across the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades; every place you touched gave way to growing desire.

Suna’s hands wandered up your stomach and over your breasts to undo the buttons of your blouse, but he couldn’t undo them fast enough for you; you suddenly couldn’t stand another moment with the fabric between you, you needed to feel your skin pressed up against his now. Your fingers moved to the bottom of your blouse and quickly worked their way upwards, meeting his in the middle before tearing the shirt from your body.

His eyes roamed over you and he whispered something that you couldn’t quite hear. Before you could say anything, his head moved to your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin, down the column of your throat and over your collarbones. The top of his head tickled under your chin, making you giggle; his lips left your shoulder with a wet sound as he turned his face up to look at you, but you dug your nails into his arms and whimpered at the loss of his touch.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.

Suna gripped you tightly around your waist to lift you off of him and shift you so you were lying down on the bed, his body leaning over you. Pulling one of your legs up so that he could position himself between them, he resumed kissing your neck, his warm breath tickling your ear. His hands worked their way down your sides, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake, to come to rest at the waistband of your skirt. He lifted his head to kiss you on the lips briefly before carefully tugging your skirt down over your hips and off your legs. His eyes lingered on your purple lace panties, moved up to your matching bra, and finally to meet your own gaze.

“These are cute,” he said with a smirk, one finger lifting up the band of your panties and letting it snap against your skin.

“Shut up,” you groaned, covering your blushing face with your arm.

“Did you match these just for me?” he teased.

“I said shut up, Rintarou!”

You heard a sharp intake of breath, and lowered your arm to see that the look on his face had shifted into completely unconstrained desire. He kissed you then, tongue forcing its way into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he pressed his cock in-between your legs; the sensation was becoming almost too much to bear.

Suna pulled away suddenly, and a thin strand of saliva briefly connected your mouths, glinting in the low light. “Hey, do you want me to wear a condom?” he asked, rubbing his thumb slowly over your bottom lip.

“Oh!” You were lying in his bed half naked, and his tongue had just been in your mouth, but for some reason that question made you feel shy all of a sudden. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I’m, uh… I’m on the pill,” you told him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. He only nodded once before leaning in to kiss you again.

One of his hands slowly slid up your side to your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple through the fabric of your bra. When he broke the kiss to move his lips to your neck, you leaned forward slightly to unhook your bra, tossing it on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Suna sucked in a breath at the sight of you, gazing at you almost reverently before placing his lips back on your throat, letting his hand blindly fondle your breast. Moving slowly, he made his way down your throat and over your collarbones, planting sloppy kisses every few inches, until his tongue was swirling small circles around your nipple, feeling it grow harder at his touch. At the same time, his other hand was pressing into your hip, fingers digging insistently into the soft flesh. That hand now started moving down over the outside of your thigh, pausing almost at the knee before running back up along the inside.

You gasped when he touched your clothed pussy for the first time, his fingers brushing against your clit through the fabric. You would have felt embarrassed at the wetness you felt seeping through your panties, but the feeling of having him touch you in so many places was too good for you to care. He was rubbing circles around your clit, causing a knot to form deep in your stomach. You reached with both hands into his hair, gripping the back of his head tightly as a pitiful whimper escaped you.

“Oh, Rintarou…”

“What is it, baby?” He leaned forward to plant a kiss on your cheek, his hand still working slowly between your legs. “What do you need?”

Another pitiful sound left your mouth and your nails dug into his shoulders. He sat up straight, his free hand coming to rest on your leg as his other continued to draw soft moans out of you.

A new feeling had settled in your chest, a need that you had never experienced before. It wasn’t enough to have him simply touch you; you needed to feel him inside of you.

“Rin, please,” you practically begged him, reaching towards the waistband of his sweatpants.

He gently pushed your hands away, a low chuckle rising in his throat. “You’re not ready yet, baby,” he told you in a soft voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Groaning, you fell back into the pillow, your breath coming out harder as he started kissing the inside of your thigh, slowly, painfully slowly, moving closer to where the heat was pooling between your legs. Both of his hands now hooked under your thighs to rest on top of your hip bones, pinning you in place. He kept his eyes on your face as his tongue ran almost lazily over your panties.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He was still licking you agonizingly slowly, relishing the way you squirmed around him. “Do you want me to taste you, baby?”

“Mm hmm,” you answered, a little too quickly in your eagerness to have him touch more of you. He moved one of his hands to hook a finger under your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

His mouth was on your bare clit now, and the sensation was overwhelming. It was different from all the times you had pleasured yourself; this was warm and wet and achingly soft, and it was causing the coil in your stomach to rapidly tighten. He hummed lightly, the vibrations running over your clit and causing you to practically scream. When he lifted his face away from you, you nearly cried. He slid your panties down your legs and tossed them on the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

Suna leaned back down, tongue running up and down your folds, swirling around your clit, kissing all over your pussy. Every single contact made your back arch, made your hands grip the sheets a little more tightly. He traced a finger along the edge of your pussy, gathering up the wetness before slowly pressing it into you. You clenched around him as his finger curled up to press into the soft spot within you, the spot that made your breath catch in your throat. You opened your eyes to look down at him; his mouth and finger were still at work on your pussy, but his gaze was trained on your face, sage-colored eyes glinting in the dark.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm falling over you in waves of intense pleasure. Your toes curled, legs tensed up around his head, hands reached down to wind into his soft hair.

“Rin-Rintarou!”

Suna kept his face pressed into your pussy, sucking gently on your clit as you came around his finger. The overstimulation was becoming too much, and your breath was coming out in labored sobs.

“Rin, p-please, stop!”

Immediately, he pulled away, crawling over your body to kiss you hard on the mouth. “I like the way you taste, cutie,” he sighed into your ear, nuzzling at your neck. “And I love the way you moan for me.”

You were panting, still coming down from your high. Suna’s hand came up to caress your face, thumb rubbing gently over your cheekbones. He waited for your breathing to even out before sitting up to remove his pants. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his cock looked; you had no reference point, but you were pretty sure he was above average.

He lazily stroked his cock with one hand as he shifted your legs with the other, positioning himself close to your entrance. He dragged the head over your pussy, coating it with the wetness there.

Suna was looking straight at you again. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Yes,” you told him. He leaned down to plant one more kiss on your lips, before slowly pressing his cock into you.

All the time he spent pleasuring you already ensured that you were relaxed enough to take him, but even so, he went slow. He sank in a few inches before pausing, allowing you to adjust to his size as he peppered your face with kisses, before giving you some more. It took a full minute before he completely joined his hips to yours, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, his voice impossibly soft.

“Yeah.” You gave him a small smile, hands running up the backs of his arms to rest on his shoulder blades. It felt so incredibly good to finally have him inside you, to fill you up completely. There had been a slight pressure when he first entered you, but that was subsiding now, and you could fully enjoy the way his cock stretched you out.

Suna pulled his hips away from you, his cock dragging slowly along your sensitive walls. The loss of him drew a soft whimper out of you, turning into a moan when he pushed back in. His pace was unhurried at first, but with each breathy sigh you made he increased his speed, pulling out a little further each time.

“Rin, oh, oh…”

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, lips capturing yours in a wet kiss. “You feel so good, baby.”

He bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your spine arch, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly to let him know that you wanted more.

“Rin, I-I… oh god-”

He straightened back up so he could look into your face, his thumb and forefinger continuing to play with your nipple. “Does that feel good?” he asked in a low voice. You nodded, eyes squeezed tight against the pleasure, and another soft whimper left your throat. “You’re taking my cock so well, baby,” he murmured; you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten at his praise. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, please, please…”

He quickened his pace even more, hips snapping into yours hard enough now to apply deliciously pleasant friction to your clit. You couldn’t have stopped the sounds leaving your mouth even if you wanted to; every thrust of his cock made you come undone a little more. The pleasure radiated throughout your entire body, making you feel slightly lightheaded.

Suna placed both hands on the backs of your knees and lifted them, pressing your legs towards your chest. The new angle of your hips allowed his cock to press into that spot inside you that made your breath burn in your lungs. The feeling was unbelievable; you had never felt pleasure like this before.

Your eyes snapped open. Suna was staring down, watching his cock sink repeatedly into your dripping wet pussy. When your hand gave his shoulder a small squeeze he looked up, eyes locking with yours. His face was etched with determination, all of his efforts going towards making you feel good. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes contained something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was husky, gaze burning with desire.

“Yes, Rin, please don’t stop,” you breathed out between gasps.

He kept his pace consistent, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again. Your nails were digging into his back, leaving tiny crescent-shaped indentations in his skin. The knot in your stomach was tightening, tightening, tightening—

“Rintarou!” you cried out as the second orgasm overtook you, breath catching in your chest. Your legs trembled under Suna’s hands as he kept fucking you through it, groaning as your pussy clenched around him.

He could feel himself getting closer. He slowed his pace, leaning over to press hard kisses into your neck as you came down from your high. When your breathing started to even out, his lips moved up over your jaw and to your mouth. You kissed him greedily, hands moving to entwine themselves in his hair.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse. He was still moving against you, cock pumping slowly in and out of your pussy.

“Ah… oh,” was all you could manage to squeak out.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled his nose against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin. “Where, baby?”

“Inside… I want you to cum inside me,” you whispered.

With a groan, Suna started thrusting into you harder again. The wetness between your legs was audible with each stroke of his cock, and the sound of it only made him come closer to the edge. The sensation against your clit was pushing you into overstimulation, tears springing up in the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You reached down with one hand to grasp at his thigh, nails digging into the muscles working to join him to you, desperately trying to pull him closer, closer.

“God, I’m so close…” he murmured, face held so near to yours that your noses bumped each time he pounded into you.

“Oh, you feel so good,” you moaned.

“Can you say my name, baby?” His voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Rin,” you sighed, and his hips snapped into you almost urgently. “Please cum, Rin, I want you to cum for me…”

He buried his face in your neck, groaning deeply as he came. “Fuck.” You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, hot cum spurting deep into your pussy.

He was still for a moment, breathing hard against your skin, before slowly pulling out and rolling over to lie beside you. You felt some of his cum drip out of you, blushing at the sensation. The two of you were silent for a while, your panting breaths the only sounds in the room.

“How was that?” Suna asked eventually, turning onto his side to face you. You suddenly found yourself unable to look at him, pressing your face instead into the crook of his neck and humming contentedly. He chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” he asked, an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice.

“Not at all,” you told him. “I liked it.”

You fell silent again. With your body pressed up against his, you could feel the beat of his heart, slowly steadying from its rapid pace. His skin was so warm, and you didn’t even mind the slight sheen of sweat covering both your bodies. You took a breath, inhaling his scent; you couldn’t describe what he smelled like, you just knew that he smelled good.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you must have been lying there for at least a quarter hour. You lifted your head to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed. Did he fall asleep?

“Rin?” you asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” His response was a low rumble in his chest; you could feel the vibrations against your palm. His eyes were still closed.

“Why were you nervous before?” You wriggled in his arms a bit, trying to get a better view of his face. “I mean, it wasn’t your first time.”

He opened his eyes, only to glance at you briefly before turning his head to look up at the ceiling. “It was my first time with you,” he mumbled, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

With your hand still on his chest you could feel when his heart started beating faster. Peering at his face in the dark, you could have sworn you saw Suna Rintarou blush.

--

➣ masterlist

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER SEVEN: Joe Manchin's Houseboat

Featuring Senators Jon Tester and Joe Manchin

Working for months with a bipartisan group of his colleagues and the White House, Sen. Tester would often have dinner with West Virginia Democrat Joe Manchin on his Washington boat, the Almost Heaven. He surprised me and asked if I'd haver dinner with him and Sen. Manchin. Nothing extravagant, just pizza and beer. Immediately my mind was racing on to naughty thoughts as said yes.

When we arrived at Manchin’s 65-by-20-foot boat he lives in on the Potomac when he’s in Washington and as we walked up the gangplank we were greeted by Sen. Manchin, wearing a Hawaiian shirts and shorts (apparently, his go-to boat attire) instead of his normal suit and tie. I stopped and glanced at him with eyebrows raised. Sen. Manchin was an older tall, thin man about 6'3" and 185 lbs. and very attractive. What really caught my eye was the imprint of one of the largest cock that I had ever seen through the fabric of his shorts.

"Welcome aboard Almost Heaven." He said as he reached down, grabbed his crotch and pulled his hand back along the shaft of his cock to show me how long it was.

"And it isn't even hard." He said with pride.

Seeing my reaction to the old man, Jon said, "Jack, this is Sen. Joe Manchin from West Virginia. I told him all about you. He wants some.”

"Jon also says you are quite the fuck."

"Has he now," I said with a devious smile on my face, "Hope I have a chance to prove it."

"Well, maybe we should take him in the bedroom and put him to work."

Joe nodded and we all went into the bedroom with my cock was dripping in anticipation. It was a large master bedroom with a nice king size bed, neatly furnished and clean. Joe sat on the bed waiting as I paused to admirer him. Jon smacked my ass and told me to go on. I walked over to Joe and stood directly in front of him. He unzipped my pants, pulled my shorts all the way down, exposing my throbbing 7" cut prick. He slid his tongue up the underside of my shaft and wrapped it around the head, sucking vigorously as Jon watched the whole scene.

Fuck! For a married 72-yr. old, Joe sure could suck, but not quite as good as Jon! He swallowed more and more of my cock, deeper into his hungry mouth. I was finding it hard to hold back as his hand grabbed my nuts, squeezing them tight while his head bobbed up and down my prick. I naturally started fucking his face furiously.

I was getting close to cuming when Joe suddenly pulled away and said we all should get undressed. After we were naked, the three of us moved over to the bed with me to be in the middle and started making out. Wanting to get my hands on Joe's cock. I reached over and began fondling those huge hanging balls and was soon moving my hand up and down on his shaft; all the while Jon's tongue down my throat and finger up my ass. All of us had a solid hard ons and I knew it wouldn't be long before one of us would cum, but our host had other ideas.

Joe started kissing my chest, travelling lower and lower until he came to my hard rod. He gave it a tender bath with his tongue before I felt his face push between my ass cheeks and his tongue vigorously tonguing my asshole, even trying to push into me. When he forced his tongue inside me, I practically squealed with pleasure. And damn if I wasn't reaching down and stroking his head.

Jon to this opportunity to move up to side of my head, feeding his cock into my mouth and rubbing them on my cheeks.  I could see Jon's cock was throbbing as I know he could hear the slurping I was doing on his personal cock sock. I was actually squealing now as Joe's tongue was in as deep as he could push it into my asshole. I thought I would cum any second as I experienced the smell and sounds of being rimed by the 72 year old Manchin.

"Joe, you want to fuck him?" Jon said.

He knew that Joe did and I knew that I was ready. Repositioning ourselves with Jon laying on the bed and I between his spread legs, stroking his dick. I kissed my way down his chest, leaving a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner. He started thrusting into my throat, making me gag. I went back to stroking his now wet cock and kissed him some more.

During this, Joe got some KY from the nightstand and applied the lubricate to his cock. The expectation of getting fucked by his cock also excited me as I slipped my lips over Jon's manhood and went to work.

"Lets see how good his ass can take my cock." Manchin called out from behind me as I suddenly felt the head of his cock along my crack and asshole.

I let out a moan as the old man's dick entered me. Then my back arched as he drove his swollen dick deep inside my asshole. It felt wonder as his long dick reached deeper inside my ass than Jon's fat cock could get.

"Damn Jon, his asshole is hot. I bet he's been fucked a thousand times. Hell, my cock slid in him faster than into a whore's pussy." Joe added as he slowly worked up and down my canal.

He was taking it easy as Jon continued to fuck my mouth, his cock stiffened as he watched Joe fuck me from behind. These guys were using me to polish their cocks to the tune of their own pleasure. Joe began slamming my ass and forcing me to deep throat Jon's cock. Jon was moaning as his cock was seeping juice in my mouth; he was teasing me as I wanted the full load from his  hose. Joe was digging deep, and what a feeling! His cock had entered a virgin region of my ass and I was loving it; to be his cock sleeve and have him wear my ass was pure excitement and  pleasure.

Manchin was getting close to coming and I wanted him to slow down so I could continue to enjoy both of these men. Remembering that the Jon likes to get fucked, I stopped sucking his cock for a moment and asked him if he'd like Joe to fuck him. I didn't have to tell him twice as Jon got up and started applying lube to himself. Joe waited till Jon was ready, still pumping my ass with his meat.  

Joe finally pulled out and came around to the front of the bed where Jon was waiting. Manchin lifted Jon's legs, mounted him and proceeded to give him a glorious fucking. He had Jon moaning in no time as I got on the side of his head, feeding my cock in and out of his mouth. Joe pumped that hard dick into Jon faster making a slapping sound as his hips met his ass. He didn't say a word he just pounded Jon's asshole with his cock.

As if it were planned, all three of us began to jerk. That hot scene made me blow my load sooner than I would have liked. I felt myself tense up and one final thrust and my crotch was pressed against his face, my cock spewing deep down his throat. Jon didn't mind as he swallowed every drop and licked my dick clean afterwards. Joe close as his pumping got faster and faster. Watching Jon and me must have taken him to the brink as he assaulted Jon's ass with his big cock. By now, the burly farmer from Big Sandy, Mont. was screaming like a wild animal before cumming harder than had ever done in his life all over his belly. Hands free. This caused Joe to cum, jerking and squirming as he blew his load up Jon's ass.

Exhausted, Joe sat back up on the bed next to us and said, "That was good fucking!"

Jon looked at me and winked as we both knew that our sex lives were about to dramatically improve.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter One}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara's blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

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Tara's Masterlist

5 years later….

Nyx looked at his birthday cake and the lone candle that was lit atop the icing before looking up at Feyre with a confused expression on his beautiful, little face.

His mother laughed, quietly, before leaning forward and taking out the candle. She had just blown out the flame when Rhys barely pushed the cake closer to Nyx, who put his chubby, little hands smack-dab in the middle of the icing and dug in.

Everyone had come to celebrate, and even Nesta couldn’t stop her smile from showing. At least, she let it show when she was on the opposite end of the house from the one and only, and massively self-centered, Cassian Nazari.

Of course, he would be at Nyx’s first birthday party. He was Nyx’s uncle - maybe not by blood, not that blood mattered when it came to Cassian, Rhysand, and their other lifelong friend, Azriel.

He, too, stood across the kitchen, watching as Elain snapped picture after picture of the jubilant baby, the mess atop his high chair the largest Nesta had ever seen. She knew Elain was taking notes for their own daughter’s birthday party, though she was barely three months old.

Rhysand’s smile was as big as Feyre’s as they watched their son, listening as his giggles filled the kitchen. Nyx realized quickly that the cake was for him alone and after smashing it for a few moments, he lifted a large handful to his chubby face and took a bite. His eyes lit up and that started the giggling anew.

Nesta loved her nephew and niece, had loved him since the day they were born, but she didn’t envy her sisters and their happy families. Unlike them, she had remained perfectly content on her own, especially after the endless string of disaster dates she had been forced to sit through throughout the years.

And children? It wasn’t that Nesta disliked kids. Not all kids, at least. She loved her nephew and niece, anyway. Having one of her own, though? Having to be around one every day? Every night? Having to constantly try and make a tiny person content?

No, thank you. That was a challenge she had little interest in.

A deep rumbling laugh came from across the house and Nesta looked up to find Cassian entering the kitchen, still chuckling at something Mor had said.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her lip from curling slightly as she looked at him. It only infuriated her more when he caught sight of her as he raised his beer to his lips and winked.

He was absolutely insufferable.

After their catastrophe of a date years ago, which Nesta had made Feyre promise was a stunt she’d never pull again, she had only been forced to be around Cassian Nazari a handful of times.

One of which was during Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, only months after their date.

“You only have to walk with him for thirty seconds,” Feyre had sighed, while Mor continued to pin and curl her hair into place. “You don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Good,” Nesta said, draining the glass of champagne in her hand. “Because I’m not.”

As Feyre’s maid-of-honor, it was customary that she was supposed to walk out of the wedding arm in arm with Rhysand’s best man. She wished that he’d picked Azriel, but since it seemed the Cauldron hated her, it had to be Cassian.

Elain, who was harboring the world’s most obvious crush on Azriel at the time, was thrilled with how they’d be exiting the wedding. Nevertheless, she said to Nesta, “I think you two got off on the wrong foot. He’s a really good guy, Nes.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister a look of pure annoyance through the mirror’s reflection. “Have any of you ever been on a date with the guy? And not only a date, but the worst date of your life?”

Feyre snorted, fully aware of where this conversation was headed. “No.”

“Then you have no room to talk,” Nesta snapped, admiring herself in the mirror. “Mother’s tits, Feyre, he wore jeans to the nicest restaurant in Velaris!”

“At least he didn’t wear his boots,” Mor muttered, then she caught Nesta’s glare in the mirror. “Really? He wore his boots?”

“He was dressed for an all-night, summer bonfire,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “And he’s completely full of himself. And, he forgot his wallet!”

“Not like you can’t afford dinner,” Feyre said, and Nesta’s lips snapped shut. She was fully aware that the conversation had somehow become a let’s-pick-on-Nesta session.

Feyre added, “You have to walk back down the aisle with him, share an entire table during dinner, and that’s it. No one is asking you to dance with him, but be nice.” Nesta met Feyre’s eyes, her jaw set. Feyre sighed, “Fine, be civil.”

She scoffed, but nodded. “Fine.”

The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. It was beautiful and elegant and the perfect wedding Rhys and Feyre had always wanted.

She ignored Cassian’s unending looks the whole night, managed to give her maid-of-honor speech without snarling at him, and after that, took advantage of the open bar her sister and new brother had so kindly provided.

She was coming out of the bathroom, a glass of wine still clutched in her hand, doing her best not to trip over her own feet when she walked into a wall.

A wall of solid muscle that turned out to be Cassian’s back.

When he turned around and she looked up at him, his eyes were nearly as glazed as hers.

“Hello, Nes,” he said, smirking down at her.

She bit out, “Don’t call me that.”

“That was a pretty, little speech you gave,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I know true love exists cause I’ve seen it first hand. Poetic.”

Nesta scoffed, brushing off the skirt of her dress as if he had tainted it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t referring to you. I was talking about Feyre and Rhys, in case you thought otherwise.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he promised. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were talking about anyone. Just some fluffy shit that sounded sweet. Unless it’s that guy that showed up at the restaurant and ruined our date. Oh, wait,” he began, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, “You dumped him though, right? Poor bastard.”

“You’re a prick,” Nesta bit out. She refrained from saying that Tomas hadn’t ruined their date. It was sad that seeing her ex was one the bright points of her night, rather than seeing the Greek god standing before her. The pretentious, cocky asshole of a Greek god.

He only grinned. “But am I a liar?”

Nesta’s jaw locked. She eyed his tux. “I’m just glad you decided to clean up for your own brother’s wedding. No jeans?”

He scoffed. “Is that the worst you’ve got?”

“Do you prefer me to give you my worst?” she asked, brows furrowing. “If so, you may want to be careful what you wish for.”

Cassian said nothing, just lifted the beer she hadn’t noticed in his hands to his lips.

Nesta rolled her eyes, brushing past him, and made a move to head back into the reception.

His voice called out behind her, “You don’t have to be such a miserable bitch, you know?”

She froze, looking back at him. He was no longer smirking at her. Instead, his eyes were intense. “Excuse you?”

“You’re so miserable that you won’t allow anyone else to have any fun, won’t allow yourself to either,” he said, still leaning against that damn wall. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his dress shirt tight and loose in all the right places. “You want everyone else to suffer, just because you’re forcing yourself to, for whatever reason.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she bit out, stalking back over to him. She was so close she had to look up into his face.

“I don’t,” he said, words clipped. “I tried, but you didn’t seem very inclined to let me get to know you during our date. You were more concerned with my attire and your ex than you were with me. You thought all I wanted to do was fuck you.” His eyes, still glassy and glazed, dragged down her body and back up again. “Besides, you’ve got that damn stick shoved so far up your ass, there wouldn’t have been room for my cock even if I’d really even tried.”

A blink was Nesta’s only reaction. Then her hand was moving of its own accord, splashing her full glass of wine directly in his face and all over that pretty, white shirt.

“Go fuck yourself,” was all she’d said before she walked back into the ceremony, leaving him there to drip on the venue’s fancy carpet.

“Nesta!”

She blinked, Feyre’s voice drawing Nesta out of her memories, looking over at her sister. She stood next to Rhys and Elain, who had her camera in her hands, and Cassian stood behind Nyx’s high chair.

“I want a picture of him with his godparents, come here,” she beamed and Nesta tried not to cringe.

She had been so proud, her heart feeling like it would burst when Feyre and Rhys had asked her to be Nyx’s godmother. There was no hesitation when she said yes, tears lining her eyes as she’d hugged both her sister and brother-in-law.

She tried not to think about the fact that when they’d told her Cassian was his godfather, she nearly asked them to give the distinction to Elain.

But she hadn’t, wouldn’t. Despite what others, especially Cassian, thought of her… Nesta loved her nephew.

She loved her family.

With a sigh, Nesta meandered over to Nyx’s high chair. “Alright.”

“Closer,” Feyre ordered, gesturing Nesta to move in closer beside Cassian behind the high chair.

Nesta’s lips pursed but she took another step toward the boys for her sister’s sake.

“I’m not poisonous, Nesta,” Cassian muttered, smiling at the camera as he spoke. “You won’t burst into flames if we brush arms.”

“You’d be so lucky to brush arms with me,” she muttered back, hoping the smile she was giving her sister was convincing - and knowing full well that it wasn’t.

Without another word, Cassian tossed his arm around Nesta and said, “Cheeeeese!”

Nyx was giggling, looking up at his godparents behind him. There was so much joy and adoration in those big, beautiful eyes that Nesta didn’t have the heart to storm off, leaving Cassian in her dust, no matter how much she wanted to.

The camera’s flash went off and Nesta pushed Cassian’s arm off her shoulder.

The rest of the party was perfect. Feyre took Nyx up to the bathroom to clean him off, while Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian hauled his many gifts out into the living room. Feyre opened them one by one, despite everyone knowing Nyx had no clue what was going on, though he did clap his chubby little hands and giggle at a few particular items. Nesta stood off to the side with Elain, holding a milk-drunk, sleepy Seph in her arms.

Azriel and Elain’s little girl had been a surprise, neither of them planning on Elain getting pregnant so soon after they got married. They both fell into the role of parents so seamlessly though, that Nesta knew another baby would be in their near future. They adored the baby girl, and she was the most perfect baby Nesta had ever seen.

Persephone hardly cried, only doing so when she was hungry or needed to be changed, and once whatever wrong was taken care of, she became a happy, smiley baby again.

Nyx, on the other hand, had been a hellion as a baby.

Which was to be expected, considering who his father was. Although responsible when necessary, Rhysand was just as much of a madman as Cassian...especially when infused with alcohol.

“You look good with a baby,” Elain crooned from beside her sister.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You can keep trying to push me down the marriage-baby road, but I just won’t take it. Wasting your time.”

Elain sighed, dramatically, with that little grin remaining on her soft pink lips. “As long as you stay such a good auntie, I suppose I can’t complain.”

Nesta looked down at the sweet, sleeping infant in her arms. She didn’t mind those little snuggles.

She did mind the diaper blowouts, constant spit-ups, and loud crying, though. That’s usually when she gave Seph back to her parents and blissfully enjoyed her independent life.

Feyre gasped and Nesta looked up. She was holding a little guitar that had Nyx’s name and the night sky engraved into the dark-stained wood.

Nesta’s eyes snapped to Cassian.

Cassian smiled, fondly, at Feyre. “I know he won’t be able to start messing with it for another few years, but I couldn't help myself.”

“He made that himself, you know.” Nesta’s eyes shot to Elain, who was watching the scene before them. She whispered again, “He doesn’t do it for a living, of course, but it’s a hobby of his, making guitars. He’s really good.”

She blinked, the information catching her off guard for whatever reason. But all she said was, “That’s nice.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the man as much as she could, as she always did. But as the guests began to dwindle, as Nyx and Seph went down for their naps, the three sisters gathered in the living room, while Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian went out back to inspect the small jungle gym Rhys was building for Nyx. Again, he was too young to use most of it, but the tiny swing and slide would be hours of fun for the little man.

Feyre brought two cups of coffee out to her sisters before collapsing next to Elain on the couch. “That could not have gone better if we tried.”

Nesta leveled her a look and raised an eyebrow.. “If we tried? You had a minute-by-minute itinerary for a one-year-old’s birthday.”

“Everything was perfect,” Elain smiled, cutting off Nesta, blowing on her coffee gently. “Nyx had a good time, neither he nor Seph had a blow-up, Cassian and Nesta managed to be in the same room without stabbing each other. All in all, a good day.”

Nesta rolled her eyes before throwing a vulgar gesture towards her sisters, who were both laughing.

“Fine, new subject,” Feyre grinned. “Oh! Before I forget, Rhys and I are going out of town for our anniversary in a few weeks. I was hoping you could watch Nyx for a few days.”

It took Nesta a moment to realize that Feyre was talking to her. She froze, having been blowing on her own hot coffee. “I’m sorry, what?”

Feyre laughed, quietly. “I was hoping that you could watch Nyx while Rhys and I go away for a long weekend. We’re going to the mountains for our anniversary. To his family’s cabin.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Elain said, looking at Nesta.

Who blinked, having only unfrozen to set her coffee down on the table between them. “You want me…to watch Nyx…for the weekend? Alone? By myself? Just me and him?”

“That’s what I was hoping for, yeah,” Feyre said, nodding as she sipped from her cup. “You can come here, where all of his stuff is in one place, and make yourself at home.” She shrugged. “I’ll leave money for takeout and the key to the wine cabinet.”

Nesta hesitated. “I’ve only babysat Nyx a couple of times…all for, like, an hour each.”

“It will be fine,” she said, a genuine smile on her face. “It will only be three nights, really. We’ll leave after work on Thursday and be home Sunday evening.”

Nesta stammered and shook her head. “I have to work on Friday, the restaurant-.”

“I’ll keep him during the day on Friday,” Elain offered. “I don’t have any shoots that day, so he can spend the day with me and Seph.”

“You could keep him the whole weekend,” Nesta tried, looking at her younger sister hopefully.

“Seph is enough of a handful,” she chuckled, glancing at Feyre, who was nodding as well. “I don’t think I can handle two at once for an entire weekend.”

“Please, Nes,” Feyre said, drawing her eldest sister’s eyes to her. “I know you can do it and it would be nice for you to spend some time together, just you two.”

“And you can call me, if you need anything,” Elain added.

Nesta looked from Feyre to Elain. “You two already planned this.” They at least had the wherewithal to look guilty. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Fine. But I’ll probably end up calling both of you every thirty seconds.”

“I can work with that,” Feyre said, just as Elain said, “Then it’s settled!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “But, I hope you know that I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”

“Oh, I know,” Feyre grinned, “which is what makes you such a wonderful, wonderful big sister.”

“I am pretty damn wonderful,” Nesta agreed, grinning as she sipped from her mug.

As she drank, she peeked out the window, where the boys were putting together the playset. Once she did, only one thing caught her eye.

Cassian was already watching her.

And when he caught her gaze, that stupid little, cocky-ass grin appeared.

She hated that grin, hated it with every ounce of her being.

And she wouldn’t feel bad for it, no matter how much her sisters adored the guy.

She hated him, hated Cassian Nazari.

And she always would.

[l4verq]

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

-

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

-

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

[nik-the-bik]

Henriel Week Day 7: Alternate Ending

"The Fate of Your Soul"

Summary: A "What if Hyde didn't end up dead and Utterson spoke to him after finding everything out?" scenario

Last entry of Henriel week and I am once again thanking @corvidayyy for putting this together because I had too much fun planning these

****

Utterson squeezed the bridge of his nose as he fought off the pain and exhaustion of everything that had happened tonight.

Poole’s arrival, listening into Jekyll’s cabinet, breaking down the door, and the awful, terror infused screaming of Hyde pleading for mercy as the two charged in, pinning him to the ground as a vial of some substance clattered to the floor, the man writhing beneath them.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to escape the echoing shouts of “Not you! Not like this—please not you!” that had made his blood run cold as he called out to Bradshaw to summon the nearest policemen.

By the time the police arrived, Hyde had entered full hysteria, gasping sobs melting into unhinged laughter in a way that was overwhelmingly pitiful, if Utterson only but listened. To see the man struggle only tinged these feelings of pity with disgust. He did his best to keep his gaze averted.

And while his search of the cabinet hadn’t found Henry Jekyll, he did find the letters.

God, the letters. The information within them was all too much for his mind to process, and his head was hurting him worse than it had in years. When he had first finished Henry’s confessional, he had found himself sobbing—something that he probably hadn’t done in three decades. Too many conflicted feelings existed within him to make any sense of them, but as he composed himself with a hot cup of tea (with a healthy dose of bourbon mixed in), he brought himself to reading them a second and third time, desperate to understand.

After pouring through these pages, eyes burning from the strain of reading in the dim study, Utterson could understand nothing but a deep, deep ache in his very soul for the fate of poor old Harry Jekyll.

He pried himself out of his chair, desperate to do something—anything, but sit here for another moment with his thoughts. He turned to his coat and hat, still laying in a heap where he had tossed them after coming home, and prepared himself to step out into the brisk, dark air.

It was not long ‘til dawn when Utterson arrived at the precinct where they were holding Mr. Hyde.

After pacing the outside block a few times, Utterson finally steeled himself enough to enter the building where he almost immediately ran into a gentleman he recognized – the Newcomen who he had assisted during the Carew case. Thinking back to that time made his stomach turn anew.

“Ah, Mr. Utterson, good morning,” said Newcomen, looking tired himself. “I regret to inform you that there is no news yet of the whereabouts of Dr. Jekyll, but we have a full team dedicated to finding your man as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Gabriel muttered, peering around nervously. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Oh?” Newcomen shifted, doing his best to hide his sudden burst of curiosity.

“I would like to meet with Edward Hyde.”

Newcomen laughed. “No need for that! We have everything under control with him, and before long his time before the gallows will be scheduled—”

“I insist, Inspector.”

Newcomen froze.

“I’d like to speak with him alone, sir,” Gabriel continued.

“-er---alone?”

“Why yes, of course. I’m acting as his legal counsel.”

“You—you—I'm -- sorry, what?” Newcomen was standing there, mouth agape, no longer showing any signs of fatigue. Gabriel, however, felt the exhaustion run deeper than it had before. He sighed, handed the officer his card, and asked to be shown into a private interrogation room.

As he sat in the small, cold, gray room, head in his hands, Utterson couldn’t decide whether he had made the correct choice in coming here or not. The endless ways this encounter could go were daunting, the wait unbearably long, and he suddenly found that he'd much rather be back home in front of the fire. Or in bed.

Utterson’s stomach sunk low at the sound of the door opening. Hyde was escorted in by a pair of officers, who forced him into a chair and chained his hands together and ankle to the leg of his chair. Utterson couldn't bear to watch—the whole proceeding making him nauseous. He kept his gaze on the floor as he waited for the policemen to finish. He gave a curt nod as they departed while they reminded him that they would be in the hall and at his full disposal if anything were needed.

When they were alone, Utterson finally let himself look directly at Hyde.

Before this night, Utterson had only ever seen Hyde on one other occasion. To see him now, it was almost difficult to say that it was the same man.

The Edward Hyde before him was a little taller, a little older, and much more pale and sickly than his previous self. There was also something much more feral about him, with the way that his eyes sharply dashed across the room, unnaturally tense and agitated. His body was tightly coiled inward, breathing shallow, like a snake preparing to strike. He could see his jaw working too, as though he was chewing his words before he allowed them to tumble out of his mouth.

“You, then?” was all that the creature before him managed to grunt out. His voice sounded much raspier too, raw from the screaming that had taken place earlier.

“Me.”

Another interlude of silence.

“Why are you here?”

“I would like some answers.”

“Answers to what?” Hyde asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The words were spit at Utterson like they were poison.

“I’ve read the letter. All of it. And Lanyon’s too.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know all. Henry Jekyll is gone. I can’t help you.”

“Are you sure, Harry?”

Hyde convulsed suddenly, looking as though he had been smacked. When he composed himself again, staring directly at Utterson, he seemed to soften, if only slightly. His eyes, darker than Henry’s, nonetheless held something in them that drew Utterson in.

“I’m quite sure. It’s a hopeless case. You’re pleading for a dead man,” Hyde answered, a little more gravity to his voice than the short, raspy whispers of before.

They stared at each other for another moment, Utterson desperate to find anything, anything at all that would connect the miserable creature before him to the man he used to regard as his dearest friend, his family, his—well—everything.

“Henry Jekyll was not one to abandon hope so quickly.”

Hyde laughed then, a sad, desperate cackle. “Really? Is that so? I guess you didn’t know him as well as you thought! You really think that after all this, after everything you’ve learned, that you even knew him at all? The Henry Jekyll you knew, the Henry Jekyll you WANT, is gone. In fact, he never existed. I’m all that’s left—the miserable, miserable testament to all his sin, his failure, and every twisted thing that he had always been all along. You’re wasting your time and mine, Utterson, and I have precious little of it left.”

Hyde shut his eyes then, turning his face away from Utterson, refusing to even look at him. Utterson was afraid that the pitiable hysteria of before—when they had found Hyde alone in Jekyll’s cabinet, would resurface. He could see that Hyde was restraining himself against some deep emotion.

Utterson brought his hand to his brow and groaned. It was too late, or early, and exhaustion was clutching him like a vice. He continued to watch Hyde, and that usual disgust that his presence typically inspired was beginning to wane, ever so slightly, the longer they sat with each other. Of course, he had to keep reminding himself who this man truly was in order to keep those feelings at bay.

Finally, “What are we going to do, Henry?”

Hyde sputtered. “We? I--”

“The eyewitness account doesn’t help us at all, and the fact that I had previously cooperated with the police to corroborate the testimony—”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“And it has been far too long since I’ve been involved in criminal law—”

“Utterson!” Hyde pleaded. Gabriel paused and brought his gaze back to Hyde. “You can’t, you can’t really be here to—”

“Have you forgotten my promise? I once promised Henry Jekyll that I would ensure Edward Hyde gets his rights, and that is exactly what I intend to do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do anything to save you, but…”

Utterson trailed off. Hyde looked at him, dumbstruck. It was though he were finally considering the character of the man before him, and not instinctively assuming every man he faced was an enemy. Tears began to brim Hyde’s eyes again, and Utterson was on the verge of letting his own tears spill for the second time in over 30 years.

“Why are you doing this?” Hyde asked, voice trembling.

How to answer? There were so many things to say, lifetime's worth.

Utterson reached a hand across the table and grabbed hold of one of Hyde’s. The smaller man flinched and started to pull away but stopped himself. While it didn’t feel quite right to Utterson, it wasn’t the hand of Henry Jekyll, there was a bewildering comfort in it nonetheless.

“Because the fate of your soul is not sealed yet, but no matter where it goes, I refuse to let it go alone,” Utterson said.

The two sat there in silence, hands held tightly, as dawn broke in the cold London morning outside.

[helliontherapscallion]

Shenanigans and Love (Adrenaline Junkie Part 13)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: the Warden, mentions of death, phantom pain syndrome, extreme fluff

Word count: 3,226

The light glow of the redstone lamp illuminated your work space. Currently, it was about two hours before everybody was due to wake up and you were hovering over your journal containing your notes on the Warden. Not much was known about the cave-dwelling creature, but you found a couple of books about it at the library. So far, you found out that it indeed didn’t have eyes; it navigated via a mixture of hearing and a vibration network found in the blocks that had the glowing tentacles on them (you now knew that they were called ‘sculk blocks’). The sculk blocks would pick up on movement or touch, it would send vibration waves through the air, where it would reach the Warden’s own sculk stalks. Without the sculk stalks on the Warden’s head, the Warden was defenseless.

You also read about the anatomy of the creature. Known juvenile specimens ranged from seven to eleven feet tall while adults spanned from twelve to a whopping twenty feet tall. While their average lifespan is unknown due to the parasitic nature of the beast, it is known that they are out of their juvenile stage once they are approximately twenty years old. Thinking back on the one in the cave, it was about twice as tall as you were. That was a juvenile mob and it’s probably grown rapidly since then. The thing that killed you so viciously was a juvenile. You shuddered thinking about what an adult could do.

Juveniles are charted to be more erratic in their decisions while adults were known to be calculating and alert. Known weaknesses were known to be the sculk stalks and the heart. It was going to be incredibly difficult to take it down by yourself, but if worse comes to worse, you’d gladly take the beast down with you. Just in case, you left behind a small will with things you were planning on giving to your family. You were going to leave your workshop and your blueprints to Arthur, your collection of diamonds to Tommy and Wilbur, your stock of netherite and gold to Technoblade, and your wealth and life savings to Philza. You requested that Philza take care of Arthur, you couldn’t ask for a better father figure to have than Philza. Only the best for Arthur. In addition, you had a letter prepared for every member of your family. They were still in their first drafts, but they were coming along fast. In them, you detailed how grateful you were for every single one of them and reminisced on your favorite memory you shared with them. You still had about a week and a half left before you planned on attacking the cave, but you always liked to have extra time to complete things.

Your alarm clock sounded with harsh, lazer like beeps before you quickly silenced it. You didn’t need Arthur or Philza waking up so early. Sighing, you hid your journal and letters under a false bottom drawer and gently closed it. You trudged up the stairs quietly and made your way to the bathroom to shower for the day. When you took off your prosthetic, you could feel the phantom pains shoot up your nonexistent wing. In addition to that, the feathered stump and the areas around it felt stiff. The warmth of the shower did nothing to alleviate the pain.

After your shower, you started to make breakfast. Soon after, the other members of the household filed into the kitchen with differing energies. Arthur, the hyper, knowledge craving kid he was, walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his head held high while Philza followed him with disheveled hair and tired blue eyes. With breakfast situated at the table, everyone started eating. You continuously shifting uncomfortably in your seat didn’t go unnoticed by the two as they eyed you after they woke up a little more.

Finally having enough of your constant movement, Philza finally spoke up, “(y/n)?” You hummed, turning to look at him, “yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

You suddenly become hyper aware of your movements as you force your body to sit still. “Everything’s fine, why you ask?”

“You look a little uncomfortable. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

You sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Arthur did you have anything specific you wanted to learn today?”

His eyes shone with the brightness of all of the stars in the universe as he made quick work to swallow his mouthful of toast, jumping in his seat slightly as he chewed. “Yes! I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with comparators!”

“That takes a lot of time and patience to learn, we probably won’t get it all done by the end of the day today. Is that alright?” He enthusiastically nodded, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and running off with a mouthful of unchewed bread.

You could feel a slight worry stab your gut, “Arthur, swallow your food before you run! You could choke!”

You watched as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, vigorously chewed, swallowed, and resumed his sprint upstairs. You dragged a tired hand through your hair and sipped at your coffee.

“Ender, now I know how you felt with us when we were kids. Kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

Your dad chuckled, sipping at his own coffee. “He’s a lot more tame than you four were. Techno and Wilbur weren’t that bad, you were just a tad bit more chaotic, and well, you remember how Tommy was. You’re just way too worried about him. Kids will be kids, they do crazy things and sometimes you can’t stop them. After the couple months of adopting Tommy, I just let him learn from his mistakes. You gotta let them learn from their mistakes or else they’re never gonna learn. It’s just something all parents have to do if they want their kid to grow as a person.”

“That’s tr- wait, parent? Arthur’s my protégé, not my kid.”

He smirked over his mug and raised an eyebrow at you, “really? Cuz you seem awfully worried about him.”

“Dad. I’m just worried that he’s gonna accidentally kill himself. What, can I not be worried about my protégé?”

“No need to get defensive, just trying to point out the obvious-”

“The obvious? Dad, I'm only twenty. I’m not adopting anyone anytime soon.”

“I adopted Techno when I was twenty three,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows, “besides, I think you’d be a great parent. You’re already a parental figure for Arthur anyways, so nothing would change too much.”

You were silent for a moment as you stared at him blankly. You never viewed yourself as a parental figure type before. Your current lifestyle of never leaving your workshop would never be able to accommodate having someone that depended on you. You could hardly take care of a goldfish (you still had Bubbles’ grave in the backyard at your house in L’manberg), let alone an entire human child. Sure, you babysat Fundy when Niki was too busy to, but that was your nephew and it was only for a day at a time. You planned on taking Arthur with you back to L’manberg (only if he wanted to of course), but you didn’t think that far ahead. He was probably going to have to stay at your house. You weren’t cut out to be a parent, you wouldn’t be good enough for Arthur.

Philza, noticing your slightly panicked zoned out state, quickly reassured you, “you don’t have to make a definitive decision right now, you have time. Just- just consider it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come to me. I think I’ve raised enough kids to know what I’m doing,” he chuckled to himself.

Your feathered wing dropped in relief as you gave him your best smile over your coffee mug. “Thanks Dad, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re a lifesaver.” Right after that, a particularly large burst of pain shot along the length of your nonexistent right wing and loitered in the area around the base of your wing. You bit your tongue at the sudden pain as you felt the muscles twitch.

“It’s no problem, I’ll always be here to help ya.” He smiled at you before his eyes snapped to something behind you. His smile dropped as he eyed you concerningly, pointing behind you. “Is- is it supposed to do that?”

You followed his eyes behind you to your prosthetic wing. The metal was twitching in sporadic bursts with varying intensity. You could hear the slight scratching of the metal clashing lightly against the wooden chair. Though it was very inconvenient, you supposed you should be glad that it was moving with the muscle impulses of the muscles you used in flight. Suddenly, you could feel a muscle directly on the base of your wing twitch as the metal moved in tandem with the impulse. The entire wing extended to it’s full length and knocked over the chair next to you. It stood erect for a bit before another twitch caused another spasm that worked its way throughout the length of your metal wing. This time, the wing reared back to your body and almost smacked you in the face. If you didn’t move, your eye would’ve probably been plucked out by one of the metal feathers.

Your flesh wing puffed up slightly in embarrassment as you turned to look back at the blond man in front of you, “technically? I mean, it’s just the sensors picking up on the twitching. I-I’ll get the chair.”

As you stood up, you grunted in pain as another spasm hit you. This time, your wing extended fully perpendicularly to your back causing the muscles in the base of your nubby wing to be pulled unexpectedly. Hissing, your hand shot to rub at the base of your wing. “Fuck that was a bad one.”

You heard the screech of wood on wood as Philza stood up and hurried over to you, dodging a couple of swings from your wing. His hands were hovering indecisively in front of him. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take it off. Just- hhh, just take the sensors off. There should be seven of them, all on my back and shoulders.” You bent over with your hands gripping the table with each spasm of your muscles. You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled slightly from your body and the warmth of your dad’s hand brushing against your twitching skin as he hurriedly ripped the sensors off your skin.

Once they were all off, the metal wing drooped limply downwards, occasionally being moved slightly when what’s left of the flesh stiffened. “Good, can you unfasten the belts? There’s three of them, they’re a little- ah, a little tricky. After that, carefully pull the metal out through the slit in my shirt. Make sur- sure the sensors don’t rip.”

You sighed when you felt the wing being taken off from you and pulled through the slit in your shirt. Slumping back down into your chair, you reached a hand around to nead the skin on your back. You could feel the twitching slowly decrease in intensity, leaving a sore feeling in its wake. Your wing was placed gently onto the table in front of you, some parts hanging off the side. “Goddamn, I haven’t had an episode that bad since I grinded out making weapons for the War.”

You could hear water running before a glass was placed in front of you and Philza picked up the chair you knocked over and pulled it up next to you. He started to rub circles around the muscles around your wing. You sighed in content, feeling the knots in your back being relieved, “thanks. That feels good.”

“(y/n)?” A small voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. You shot up and bit back a groan when your sore muscles were moved. The young boy was leaning into the doorway with his hands on the sides and his mop of brilliant copper hair hung downwards. He looked worried and slightly scared.

“Hey Arthur, we can start your lesson soon, I just need a sec.”

“Are you okay?” His wavering tone and small voice combined with the tears slowly filling his eyes broke your heart. Eyes softening, you stood up and walked over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. “Of course I’m okay, you don’t need to worry buddy,” you deepened your voice and spoke dramatically, ‘(Y/n) Minecraft the Great, Conqueror of the Unknown’ will never be taken down!”

He gave a watery chuckle against your shirt and burrowed his head deeper into your shoulder, gripping you tighter. You reached up to stroke his hair and wrapped your left wing around him loosely, shielding him from the world with a protective feathery barrier. You could hear Philza picking up dishes from the table and quietly start to do the dishes. Despite the occasional twitch in your back and the phantom pain shooting down your wing, you directed all of your attention to Arthur. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped at his blotchy face. “Are you still up for the lesson?”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, Philza interrupted him from behind you, “you’re not doing anything until you feel better (y/n).”

“Dad, honestly it isn’t that-”

“Don’t say it honestly isn’t that bad, we both know that’s not true. You’re on bedrest for today.”

You grumbled to yourself as you stood up and handed your glass of water to Arthur, who sipped at the contents giving you a small “thank you.” Nodding, you were escorted out of the kitchen by Philza and ushered to the couch. Once you were laying down on your stomach, he handed you a book and placed a hot water bottle on your back. Before you could stop it, a pleased hum left your lips as your body relaxed on the couch. “You’re staying here. I better not find you anywhere else when Arthur and I come home.”

You lifted your head up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, “where’re you taking him?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up slightly before he put on his stern facade once more. “Just to the village. I need to pick up a few things.”

“And you need him why…?”

“Well, I can’t go without someone helping me! I’m an old man after all.” He started to nudge Arthur towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

“You’re only thirty six, but whatever. Arthur, be good for my dad.”

“Alright (y/n), feel better soon!” He gave you a bright smile before he was pulled out of the house by Philza.

You tried to read, but the nagging worry for Arthur in the back of your mind never allowed for you to be immersed in your book. You knew Philza would never let anything happen to him, but you couldn’t help but worry whenever Arthur wasn’t in your line of sight. You supposed that it was a part of being an avian hybrid; you needed to constantly know if the child was alright. You tried to force yourself to go to sleep, but the pain prevented you from doing so, so you ended up mindlessly watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Before you knew it, your eyes closed and you were put in a light slumber.

You were awoken by the front door opening and laughter filling the house. You cracked open your crusty eyes and groaned as you sat up. You looked at the two with bleary eyes. Arthur was laughing at something Philza said as the blond looked over at you. “Hey hun, you feelin better?”

“Yeah a bit. What’d you get at the village?”

“Just some things for dinner. Arthur, wanna help me cook?”

Arthur, being the walking ball of sunshine that he was, nodded vigorously and started to drag the older man to the kitchen. Furrowing your brow, you called out to them, “do you want me to help?”

“No, stay there. Don’t come in!” Arthur’s excited voice shouted back to you, making you raise a brow at his words. You couldn’t lie, you felt nervous at his words. Just what did he have in store for you? Occasionally, you could hear yelps and bangs, which made you want to go into the kitchen even more. But you held off, trusting Philza.

About an hour and a half passed before you were summoned to the kitchen by an overly excited Arthur. Once in the kitchen, you were in slight awe. Spread out on the table was your favorite meal with the addition of fresh cookies left to cool on the stovetop. “All this for me?”

They smiled at you as Arthur ushered you to your spot at the table. “I… don’t know what to say. I- thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Arthur’s idea. I just helped.” Philza looked over at the blushing boy with a smile.

You reached over to ruffle his hair, “well, thank you Arthur. You know me too well, these are all my favorites!”

The boy bashfully smiled at you, “there’s something else too, but that’s for after dinner.”

You put a hand against your heart, touched, “Two surprises in one day? Ender, you’re spoiling me!” Arthur laughed at you.

Dinner went by fast with light-hearted laughter bouncing throughout the kitchen. The dinner and cookies tasted amazing, your taste buds felt like they were in heaven. After dinner, Arthur drug you to your room with an excited Philza following you two. On your bed sat your wing, but it had colorful things attached to the surface. Furrowing your brow, you looked closer to find various magnets sticking to the iron surface.

They ranged from the nonbinary flag to small mobs to little puns (your favorite ones were ‘olive you’ and ‘bird puns fly right over my head’). You could feel your smile widening at every magnet you saw, your wing fluttering in happiness. One of the magnets made you stop completely though as you stared at it with wide eyes. It was simple, but oh did it make your heart sing in joy and your eyes fill with tears. On the magnet, in big, bold letters were the words ‘world’s best parent’.

“Arthur…” You looked at him through blurred vision. He looked nervous, looking anywhere but at you and shifting on the balls of his feet. You lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug and wrapped your wing around him, making sure he was as close to you as possible.

Philza watched the exchange with a soft smile before he decided to let you two have some privacy. His heart was full of happiness as he walked downstairs to clean up the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his wings fluttering uncontrollably. He was ecstatic to officially welcome Arthur to his family. Sure, he had a small hand in leading Arthur over to the ‘world’s best parent’ magnet, but it was Arthur that picked out the magnet for you. He knew you were going to make a fantastic parent.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @laura--444  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter  @momo-has-a-gun  @misfortunatem00n  @w-0-r-n-n  @v-kouya  @kusuinko  @cheybaee  @dulcedippers  @jaciahbabes

[londonhalcyon]

WIP Day of the Week

Perpetuating the cycle of bullying from @dumpsterhipster and co. by tagging @unoriginal2tall, @a-more-delicious-happiness, and any other writer, artist, or creator that wishes to participate! I’ll directly throw more of my mutuals under the bus later, but if anyone has something to share now, go ahead and tag me!

Here’s some out of context dialogue snippets and other little lines from Rosemary Reaper. I haven’t actually written any full chapters for this fic, just these bits as they come to mind. There’s also another special treat at the end. 

“I hope you’re not here to start trouble.”

Ros looked up at the turrets humming on the roof. All barrels were trained on her. “And get shredded to bits? No, thank you. I’m just looking for directions—and to trade for food, if you have some to spare.”

The man was slow to lower his gun. “We might be able to come to an arrangement. Where’re you headed?”

“Diamond City.”

* * * *

“Ros, how old are you?”

She became suddenly focused on petting the cat in her lap, feeling a frown creep across her face. Her age wasn’t something she usually gave out to strange men much older than her. 

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “That was inappropriate of me to ask. I didn’t mean anything weird. You remind me of Mary, my eldest. She was twenty-one. Would be twenty-three now.” He didn’t need to clarify. Ros had seen the grave while scouting out the property. Mary wasn’t twenty-one anymore. Nor was she twenty-three. 

“In that range,” Ros said. 

* * * *

The ghoul called Chloe was wearing a “Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me” trucker cap, and Nora liked her instantly.

* * * *

“If ya don’t mind me askin’, what brings ya to the city, Ms…?”

“Yeah, not so hot on the ‘Ms.’”

“Oop, sorry. Mx…?”

“Ros.”

“Ros. What brings ya to the city, Mx. Ros?”

* * * *

“Oi, Sullivan. It’s McCreery. Got that horse’s owner ‘ere lookin’ for it. Them mutants are keepin’ their distance, so we should be good for a few. Ya mind opening the gate?”

Another voice crackled through the speaker. “Its owner? Well, I’ll be. Hang on, McCreery, I’m opening her up.” 

* * * *

“Who trained you, kid? The KGB?”

Nora smacked his arm. In response to Ros’s blank look, she said, “Ignore him. He’s showing his age.”

“You have a hundred years on me, partner. Nothing wrong with reading a history book or two in your time.”

“Yeah? What century would that be, Valentine?”

* * * *

“I still prefer Pale Rider,” Nick said. 

“Ehh…” Nora mirrored Piper’s grimace from before. “Too Eastwood.”

“I’m surprised you even know who that is.”

“First I’m too old, now this? Jeez, make up your mind, Nick.”

“The Grim Reaper is multicultural,” Piper said. 

“Death is multicultural,” Nick corrected. 

“On that lovely note,” Nora said, pushing back from the table, “I’m going to bed.”

* * * *

“Oh, gosh, that’s a big needle,” Piper said with forced lightness. 

Nora hummed noncommittally, so Nick imagined it was even less reassuring when she said, “Do me a favor and look towards the window on the far wall, would you? That’s the one. Yep.”

* * * *

“Remember to breathe, Piper,” Nora said. 

“I’m breathing,” Piper said with tension that suggested she was not in fact breathing. “Just got a little…ugh, a little woozy for a moment.”

“Tilt your head this way. Relax, deep breath. Sip on this.”

* * * *

“We’re open. You don’t—” Nick broke off. His fingers scratched against the door, metal against wood. A God-awful sound, really. 

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Valentine,” Danny said, “but I assume this belongs to you?” 

Ros attempted a grin. She presumed it looked deranged, her hands being cuffed behind her back and all.

Nick gave her a flat stare. “Tell me why I should say yes.”

“Uh, I didn’t kill anyone?” she offered. 

* * * *

Told you the fic wouldn’t be completely tragic. Mostly. Cause I don’t want to make it too easy on anyone, I’m gonna be sneaky again and switch fandoms. Here’s the treat I promised: a rough preview of Chapter 33 of The Mad Witch. This chapter’s gonna be a fun one.

Later that evening, long after Tonks had left on patrol, Penny found me curled up in a ball beneath a blanket on my bed. She didn’t say anything at first, simply climbed onto the bed to lie next to me, offering no more than a warm presence. It was all I needed to break. 

“She lied to me,” I said, my voice cracking. I hadn’t meant to say it, and it sounded pitiful. The voice of some poor, heartbroken child. 

Penny tucked my hair behind my ear. Softly, she said, “I know.”

“I crossed a line. It’s a bad line.”

“I know.” She kept stroking my hair, brushing the shorter strands of my fringe away from my face every time they escaped from behind my ear. “You know you have to tell her.”

“She’ll never forgive me.”

“That’s not true.”

“She’ll still be furious.”

“Maybe. But you’re long overdue for a conversation. There aren’t really any options left.”

I closed my eyes, because she was right and it was terrifying. “I don’t want to lose her,” I whispered. 

“That’ll be up to her, once you take that step. It takes two, and if you’re the only one that’s been reaching…” She trailed off. I rolled over to bury my face in my pillow. “Hey, you. Come here.” Sitting up, she pulled me upright so she could slip her arms beneath mine in a hug. I rested my chin on her shoulder, feeling even more like a child. “Do you remember what you told me about Conall?” she asked. 

I hummed noncommittally over her shoulder. She pushed me back so I was forced to see the determination in her sapphire eyes. 

“If she breaks your heart…” she began with a smile. 

“Oh, God.”

“…I’ll grab Tonks, and we’ll go knock some sense into her. Isn’t that right?” I leaned forward to press my forehead to her shoulder with a mortified laugh. Loving, yet mortified. She rubbed my back. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. All right?”

“Thanks, Pen.”

“You’d do the same for me. You always have.”

[imaginethathaikyuu]

tis the damn season

atsumu miya x fem reader 

the first fic in a series i like to call “Me Writing Whatever The Hell I Want” (a working title) hope u like it or dont idk im not ur boss!!!!!!!!!!

synopsis: Running away was easy when you were chasing hazy dreams of a big city that was destined to be yours, when your rear-view mirror showed nothing but your hole in the wall hometown. But now it’s all waiting tables and failing auditions. You were still running, but somehow, these winding roads always lead you back to Miya Atsumu - a man you’ve loved and left, until you return home for the holidays. 

tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, angst without a happy ending, established pre-relationship, friends with benefits, reader lives in Undisclosed Big City lmao who has celebrity dreams, atsumu is ur good ole southern boy (sort of), canon divergent, not edited, light nsfw, beginnings of sex but isn’t very detailed 

word count: 4220

song inspo  (tis the damn season by taylor swift)

-

i won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay… 

. . . 

The soundtrack of this early morning replayed in your head as you made a hazy drive to the neighborhood’s hardware store, cutting left onto the correct street and forcing the car’s back tire over the curb you couldn’t miss. 

The replay of events looping in your mind? A whirring, then a splashing, then your father’s booming voice shouting curse words at anyone who could hear them. Your name was laced in there somewhere with demands for you to get to the kitchen, and you couldn’t tumble down the stairs fast enough to see what in the hell was going on. 

It was your first day home for the holidays, and already it was a catastrophe. 

Somehow your dad had busted a pipe underneath the kitchen sink and a strong stream of water was spraying halfway across the room because of it - your feet landed in a shallow pool when you finally reached the first floor. You didn’t have time to think of any questions before the man at fault, who was on his knees with his head hidden under the sink relentlessly trying to turn the water off, sent you out the door with more shouts, telling you to go to Miya’s Hardware and buy… something. 

“A connector?” You were talking to yourself, thinking out loud as you finally parked, but it didn’t help you remember. All you could do was walk inside the store and hope someone knew what you needed. 

It’d been years since you had been in this shop, but it looked just the same as when you were following your dad through its isles. You didn’t even bother browsing now, though - you went straight to the back of the store to the counter, expecting to see a familiar, perhaps older, face eager to help you. 

That isn’t what you found. 

“Well, hey stranger.” 

That voice rang in your ears like you’d just heard it through a megaphone pointed directly at you. Something about it was so warm, but it left you with a shiver down your spine and goosebump ridden skin. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you hadn’t even turned in the direction the words came from. 

But you didn’t have to look in order to know just who it was. “Atsumu.” 

“What in the hell are you doing back in town?” His voice rang with excited confusion; it carried the same inflection as anyone who’s happy to see you. Like nearly forgotten family members at a reunion before it all goes to hell, or the way the tone of your father’s voice changes when you tell him you’re doing well and mean it. People don’t speak that way often. 

He pulled you in for a hug and you gladly reciprocated, already forgetting that you were supposed to be in a hurry. 

“Home for the holidays. How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright,” he replied. “I’ve missed you.” 

His voice felt more like home than your four bedroom walls did, the charming drawl and depth in his words immediately reeling you in. It was familiar. You had spent a long time trying to forget about that familiarity; too long learning how to straighten out your words and lose any hint of the small town you came from. But Atsumu - he sounded like the epitome of this place. 

He didn’t give you time to reply, for one reason or another; instead he decided to push you back by your shoulders and get a good look at you. Up and down and up again, likely noticing every change you had made to your appearance in your time away. 

“Are you still wearing your pajamas, or is this a new… trend?” 

You looked down at yourself, “Shit,” and closed your jacket tight over the old graphic t-shirt you wore, but nothing could cover your pink polka-dotted pants. And you’d have been hit in the face with embarrassment if the image of your dad and the broken sink and a flooded kitchen didn’t smack you first. “Shit, no, um… I need something to fix a broken sink. Are you… do you work here now?” 

“I do - and you’re gonna need to be more specific.” 

“I don’t know, Atsumu,” you laughed, slowly realizing the bizarreness of what you were about to tell him. “I woke up to my dad shouting and water shooting out from under the sink, literally flooding the kitchen. He told me to get a part for the pipe… a connector, or a couple, or something - I don’t know.” 

“...A coupler?” 

“Yes!” 

“...He didn’t happen to tell you what size to get, did he?” 

The look on your face must have been a good enough answer for him, because he took off into a random aisle and left you wondering just how many sizes of couplers there could be. 

“This one will probably do the job,” he said as his path rounded the counter. “If it doesn’t, then, I can ignore the return policy for you. Just this once, though.” 

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu.” You made your payment and he slid your product over the counter as his elbows landed on it, leaning down to make himself comfortable. Like he thought he’d be there awhile. 

“How long are you gonna be in town?” 

“Two weeks. Why do you ask?” You knew why - you just wanted to hear him say it. 

“We should catch up.” 

He was grinning and shrugging and fidgeting with his fingers, just like he always did, and you would never turn down any offer he made you. 

“We should. I’ve got to get home, but are you free tonight?” 

“We close at six,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you said, meaning every word. You wondered if he knew that. 

“So will I,” he replied, and then you made your way out before you convinced yourself to stay. 

It’d been three years since you last spoke to Atsumu. In that time, you had done a lot that felt like nothing, living in a different city that felt worlds bigger than this town - that city was a place you had once convinced yourself was all yours. You had pulled off running away effortlessly. 

But it didn’t matter how much time goes by between your meetings with Atsumu. There was something there that you could never shake, the hold you had on each other was anchor tight. Ten years could pass and you would speak to each other like it had only been one day. You’d have world ending fights and one of you would always come crawling back, letting the other win as long as it meant things would go back to normal. 

You couldn’t describe it. You never tried, you didn’t need to. The unspoken acts between the two of you didn’t need to be explained. It was something akin to a best friend with all the benefits included and most of the strings attached - confusing and nerve wracking but still so comforting. 

Atsumu was the closest thing to home you had in this town, and somehow every road always leads back to him. With a few detours on your part, of course, because you just couldn’t stay away too long. Even moving across the country didn’t change that - not like you thought it would. 

You just barely missed the turn into your driveway, being so distracted by your thoughts. So much was rushing back, so much that shouldn’t be - it isn’t a big deal, it’s just Atsumu, but it felt grand, like this was some massive reunion. 

But it wasn’t. You were only here to celebrate Christmas with your family. You weren’t even planning on seeing Atsumu, let alone meeting up with him or rekindling any kind of flame that was once there. 

And it was such a rush that you couldn’t even question why he was working at his father’s store - or why he was even in this town at all. What happened to the dreams he was chasing? 

For what felt like the first time in your life, you had questions for him. But you’d have to wait all day to ask them. 

. . .

You were thankful to come home to a dry floor and a calmer father - he finally figured out how to turn the water off and decided to fix the pipe later. You knew he’d inevitably be paying someone more qualified to repair it, but your mind had no space for that problem. 

You were still trying to figure out how you’d meander the night with Atsumu by the time he was picking you up, and when the two of you arrived at his home you still hadn’t found your answer. 

Easing into this would be best, and once alcohol was introduced to the equation it would turn into a slippery slope. 

Nothing was hard with Atsumu. You knew that - that’s why you couldn’t figure out why you were having such a hard time talking to him. 

A lot had changed. Not between the two of you, not exactly. You were right back where you were three years ago: on his couch, sitting too close to him, laughing at something he had said that was only funny because he said it. 

But your lives had changed. Your worlds had changed. His mind had very obviously changed, and because of it all, you couldn’t keep pretending that the two of you were teenagers again. 

You had to bite the bullet and ask the question that was on your mind, completely knowing that he could throw a hard hitting question back at you.

It came out more effortlessly and lighthearted than you expected. “So… what happened to playing volleyball?”

Atsumu scoffed. “You still remember that pipe dream? Nothing happened, it was just childish.” 

You didn’t like his answer, so you pressed him. You worked up the courage to start this conversation, so you were going to get to the bottom of things. “You said you wanted to catch up - I know you, Atsumu. You get what you want and you wanted to play volleyball. You were going to be a pro, you were good.” 

“I know you know me,” he said, and the smirk on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I wanted to get drunk and chat, not start up a fucking therapy session.” 

You sat patient and waiting, eyes on him, refusing to go without the answer to your question. You were teasing, really, eyeing him up and grinning as you watched him struggle. The problem was: you didn’t expect the answer you’d get. 

“I - I had the chance.” There was a scratch in his throat that wasn’t caused by the whiskey he’d just swallowed. “I was being scouted and playing my ass off and there were talks of being on an Olympic team one day, but… shit happens, and that’s it.” 

“What shit, Atsumu? You didn’t just give up, did you? Were you scared or something?” 

You didn’t realize how close you were to him until his hand came down to rest on your knee, and both of you focused on that touch as his next thoughts became words. “Dad got sick. And ‘Samu had just opened the restaurant, and… there were bills to pay and the store to run. Even though I wasn’t his preference, Dad had no choice and left the legacy of Miya’s Hardware to me, so - that’s where I am.” 

“Oh. I… I had no idea - I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You were already long gone by then - don’t say sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you hugged him without thinking, but he hugged you back all the same. “I’m sorry, ‘Tsumu.” 

“It’s okay,” he told you, but you didn’t feel okay. You were sure he didn’t, either. “It’s not your fault.” 

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his face, and you hadn’t noticed the distance in his eyes until just then. As you looked at him, you realized it was only familiar to now. It wasn’t there years ago, when you got to look into those eyes every day. 

“I should’ve been there for you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, but his words were dangling on an edge. He didn’t quite mean them. “You were off in your own dream. I got through it.” 

You only nodded. You weren’t sure what else to say after that. 

As Atsumu sat back against the couch, he brought you with him, tucking you under his arm against his chest. His lips on your forehead made you close your eyes and for a second, it was like you were both nineteen again. You could’ve been, if time would only slow down or freeze or go back - what wouldn’t you give for that? 

“I’m done talking about me,” he mumbled. “I wanna hear about your life now.” 

You laughed, but quiet, “My life’s been fine.”

“Only fine?” 

“You don’t see me on the big screen, do you?” 

He laughed this time. “Not yet. One day, though. Have you gotten used to the city yet?” 

“Oh… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but… it does feel like home now. It’s so different from living here.” 

“I bet.” 

“I try not to romanticize it, but - I don’t know. It feels good, even if it’s not what I thought it’d be. The lights are pretty bright. Blinding compared to here.” 

His response was a nod, and that was it. If he had any questions or comments, he held them back. 

A break in the silence came soon, though. “You know,” he said, quiet, with a small laugh that was humorless, “I’m not as good at getting what I want as you think I am.” 

“That’s not true,” you replied, and you were setting up an argument you weren’t ready to make. “You got me.” 

“Did I?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Silence lingered, and after too long you sat up and looked at him, and that got him to talk. 

“Nothing,” he insisted. He pulled you closer with two fingers holding your chin, and you didn’t resist. “Nothing, baby. Let’s just… just be quiet for a while.” 

There wasn’t time for you to say anything else. His lips were on yours the moment he got his last word out. And even though you expected him to kiss you, it still made you gasp. 

You couldn’t describe how much you missed kissing someone you wanted to, and Astumu’s kiss was like finding home. His lips were like candy, sweeter than sugar; his bite was a freezing shock that always pulled a giggle and a whisper of his name out of you. He knew how to kiss you, slow and deep with a hand on your jaw to keep you there, never leaving you wanting more because he gave everything you could ever need. 

It didn’t take long for his kisses to trail down your neck, or for his shirt to come off, or for your back to land on the couch. You had already reached euphoria just seeing him hovering over you, eyes soft and hair askew; you didn’t need anything but this. You’d never want anything but this. 

You did what you always did - trailed your hand down his torso, over his golden skin, stopping just after every freckle or scar or mark. This time, you were looking for something new. You didn’t find anything. You didn’t stop until your hand landed on his waist, and there, you squeezed - 

“Stop, you little shit,” and he laughed, right along with you. A real and genuine laugh - you hadn’t heard that song in a long time. “Why do you always do that?” 

Finally he moved down to press his chest against yours, his hips locking in place between your legs. A perfect combination. 

“Why do you always give me the chance?” You were still laughing, not able to get over the cute sight. Atsumu was always so ticklish there, right on his waist, and when you made that discovery you swore you’d never forget it. And he sure as hell wished you would have. “You’re so cute. I’ve missed that smile.” 

“I’ve missed you,” he replied. Somehow you just knew that he meant it. 

“Don’t. I’m here.” 

“You’re here,” he repeated. Like he was reassuring himself. 

You took the initiative to unbutton your shirt yourself, so that there was no way for him to think that you wanted this to stop there. It couldn’t, not when you had him this close. And his eyes followed the popping buttons like stalking prey. 

“And you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Fucking hell.” 

You cringed - you couldn’t help the feeling in your gut when he gave you those sweet words. You knew he meant them in some way; you knew Atsumu wouldn’t lie to you. He’s never told you anything just for the sake of it. But how many times, in the last three years, had someone done just that? Told you just what you wanted to hear so they could get inside you? It was vile the first time. The second, it made you ache. But now, you’re used to it. Nobody means what they say. You’re used to it. 

And Atsumu could snatch up any girl he wanted. A girl who’s used to blinding lights and expensive wine and lying - or a girl who would stay with him, who wouldn’t push his buttons, who would be effortless in her charm and wit and beauty. 

You couldn’t put yourself in either category. 

“You haven’t seen many, then.” 

“Why would I even need to when I’ve got you? You’re a fucking dream. All I ever think about.” 

You shook your head, not even noticing you were doing it. Atsumu wouldn’t have it. 

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Not when you know what you do to me. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest, for fuck’s sake - it has been since you walked into the store.” 

You never knew him to be so open with his feelings, or maybe you had just gotten used to being lied to. You weren’t sure and you didn’t care - all you could think about was kissing him, so you pulled him in, and you were sure he would devour you. You’d have no problem with that. 

It was desperate when you said, “I need you.”

And reassuring when he replied, “I’m right here.” 

He wasn’t close enough. You didn’t think he ever could be. And it was right then, when you were swimming in desperation, that you realized you shouldn’t have been doing this. It would only make leaving even harder. Doing it the first time was hell, letting him watch you leave and be okay with it. You hated yourself for wishing he wasn’t. And you were drowning. 

You hated yourself for leaving. 

You hated yourself more for coming back. 

And you didn’t want to be there, all of a sudden, despite the ache in between your thighs and the addicting warmth he had you trapped in. You didn’t want to be there and you didn’t want to leave, either - you only wanted something easy, but you’d never have it. Not here, and not in the city, and not with Atsumu. 

You felt him freeze, felt things shift. You hadn’t even noticed the way your energy had completely dropped. 

“Something wrong?” He moved up to hold your face. He noticed the tears in your eyes before you did. 

It was hard to look at him but you held his gaze, and his touch hurt more than it healed but you yearned for it. The concern on his face was genuine, the gentle strokes of his thumb on your cheek weren’t forced, and it all was making your stomach turn. 

He cared for you - obviously he did - but not enough to ask you to stay. Not enough to find trouble in letting you leave him. So maybe you shouldn’t have a problem with it, either. 

“No,” you said through a sore throat and a locked jaw. “Sorry, just…” 

“We don’t have to do this,” he told you. “We can just talk - I want to talk. If it’s too much -” 

“It’s okay,” you said. You tried to mean it as much as, “I miss you, Atsumu. I want you - touch me, I miss you.” 

“I know,” and he was wiping the tears off of your cheeks as he kissed your lips, “I’ll take care of you, baby, just let me. Stop thinking so much. Let me take care of you like I always do, yeah? You want me to help you feel good?” 

You always had a problem with that - thinking too much. He never hesitated to call you out on it. You nodded your head, strong and fast, like you were trying to knock the thoughts right out of it. 

“Please, ‘Tsumu.” You were crying for him, pulling him closer. “Need you. Make it better, please.” 

“I’d do anything,” he said. “You gotta quit crying, baby. You’re acting like our first time again.” 

You laughed at that, wiping your own tears and knocking his hands away. “God, that was so embarrassing.” 

“It was cute.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“It was kinda hot, too.” 

“Atsumu!” 

It was his deep grin that made you relax again, and so did another blissful kiss that took your breath in a way that you enjoyed. 

“You can cry, baby,” he said, popping buttons on both of your pants, “as long as it’s because of how good I’m making you feel. That’s what you need, pretty girl. Let me show you how much I’ve been missing you - get these pants off, baby, let me see you.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to cry any more, at least not in an emotional sense. Your mind was stripped with your body, filled with nothing but him, no space between the two of you left for insecurities or questions. 

It wasn’t until he coaxed you into his bedroom that those things had the chance to creep back. 

Atsumu was out cold, cuddled into your chest and holding on tight to your waist, after smothering you in soft kisses and sweet sleepy words. You were comfortable there, warm and safe and content, but the pit in your stomach only grew. You watched him sleep, his mouth slightly open and eyes softly closed, and you wanted to reach down and kiss him but you resisted. 

It was late and you should be asleep but you couldn’t rest. You couldn’t stop loathing yourself long enough to close your eyes, and the more you thought, the harder it got to breathe. Your throat was sore again. Your eyes were watering again. And every word you wanted to say to Atsumu was tumbling out of your mouth and falling onto sleeping ears. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

He didn’t stir. It was still rumbling breaths and the whir of the air conditioner filling the silence. 

“Everyone else did. But you. Why… You of all people should know I’m just as worthless there as I am here - I’ll never make it - I’ve changed everything and still…” 

You sucked a hard breath into your lungs to stop a wracking sob, just barely holding it in. 

“I just ended up here again. With you. I’m so alone without you but I can’t - fuck.”

It didn’t even matter what you were trying to say anymore, because you had no clue. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stay with him regardless of his choice to let you go, but something in you made you run. Maybe it was worthless pride or a childish desire to be something more - you didn’t know. 

You didn’t belong in any industry you dreamed of working in. You weren’t born to be a star. You should know by now - should accept your failure and come back home for more than just one night. 

But you couldn’t. 

There was still a chance, wasn’t there? 

A chance to belong somewhere.

A chance to be led home.

A chance to make it. Would you die trying? 

You would leave in the morning. And you wouldn’t ask Atsumu to wait for you as he started getting ready for the day. And Atsumu wouldn’t ask you to ditch your own plotted destiny just to stay with him. 

But this would happen again. Every time you would swear it off and every time, you would travel roads that take you right back to this town, this bed, these arms. 

Running away would never get easier, but this is all it would ever be with him. He would never stop you leaving - and you would never ask him to.  

. . .

...so i’ll go back to LA

[straightouttaneptune]

Opposites attract

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Slytherin!Reader, Platonic!Blaise Zabini x reader, Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson, Platonic!Draco Malfoy x reader (The reader is race-neutral!)

Warning: I think there’s a couple swear words, uhh if you’re in love with Draco you probably shouldn’t read this, there is not a single sentence in this fic where Draco and Y/N are any more than friends. Actually, Y/N will commit an act of violence against him. (Don’t do this to your friends)

Summary: Blaise notices that his best friend, Y/N is different the second he sees her again after Summer break. You are a full-fledged pure-blood Slytherin, but during Summer, you got your heart stolen by a certain muggle-born Gryffindor.

A/N: I am OBSESSED with Gryffindor x Slytherin trope, I’m so sorry I will write a reader who’s in Hufflepuff soon! Also, I love Blaise Zabini? He deserves love :/ He a true King in this fic. Oh and Y/N & Hermione are a power couple who eat men ok cool happy reading!!

—————————————————————

It was a quiet evening in the Slytherin common room. The white noise of the light rain present, but none of you could see, for the Slytherins belonged in the dungeons.

You had your head rested on the lap of Blaise Zabini, your best friend, and your legs over the lap of Draco Malfoy. You wouldn’t say he was your best friend, per se- you didn’t always like how he acted. You thought of him more like a brother, in a way. An annoying brother, no less.

But while your friends engaged in some deep conversation about whatever they talked about, your mind was elsewhere. Since last week, you’ve been lost in the curious world of a strange muggle book titled “pride and prejudice”. You picked the damned book up every time you had some spare time.

“What’s this then? Never seen it before.” You recall 2 weeks ago, laying by the old oak tree of the city park, the bushy leaves shielding you from the blinding sunlight.

“You’ve never seen a book before?” She teases, playful laughter filling the crisp summer air.

“You know what I mean! C’mon, read to me.” You look up at her, sitting down with her back pressed against the tree. Her face was covered with the red cover of the book, but you could swear that what you were seeing deserved to be drawn on canvas and presented in museums. Her golden curls looked as if they were lighting up under the sun, her soft yet strong hands curling around the spine of the book.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife-”

Blaise also had a book opened in his hand, but he was not reading- he was listening in on Draco and Pansy’s conversation. Also glancing down and seeing you smile to yourself, for whatever reason. It could have been the book, but he doubted it.

And even though this was the first day back to Hogwarts, he knew that you were very different from who you were when he waved goodbye to you before summer break.

First of all, you never read muggle books. You were the eldest child of one of the most pure bloodlines to exist. Your family were very close with the Malfoys, the Blacks, and obviously the Dark Lord. Anyone would expect you to grow up hating muggles, and... in all honesty, Blaise thought you did.

But then why didn’t you say anything few hours earlier when Granger bumped into you on the train? A witty quip about her blood, perhaps? But nothing. And why in the world did you have a Jane Austen story in your hand?

Despite the multiple questions looming over his head, Blaise had a theory. So now, he wanted to see. Test you, on how you’d react to another one of Draco’s degrading talks about “muggles” you recently seemed to take an interest to.

“God, those mud-bloods infuriate me. And what’s Dumbledore thinking, opening a class of ‘Muggle Studies?’ What a pathetic excuse for a school.” Draco said quite loudly for the whole common room to hear, looking behind him and at first-year Slytherins as if to get them to agree with him. They nod out of fear, but Blaise can see it’s poisoning their unbiased minds already.

Great. More racism. He’s never been a big fan of it.

Just when Blaise turned back around to pretend to stare at his book once more, you quickly stood up from your place in his lap, and smacked your hard-covered book over Draco’s head. The first years jump and gasp from utter and complete shock.

...Ouch. Blaise doesn’t know if he should be happy he was right about something being up with you, or stop you from killing Malfoy.

“What in the- What is your problem, Y/L/N??!” Draco stands up too and glares at you in an accusatory manner, hand flying up to the back of his head. His tall figure looms over your head, his eyes burning with confusion and rage. But you’re not afraid. Quite the opposite.

“Don’t you dare talk about muggles like that ever again, Draco. You know I’ve never liked it when you used that word.” You point your halfway closed book into his chest, the corner digging into his neatly ironed shirt.

“What? You’ve never hit me over something as little as this? What’s wrong with you, Y/L/N?” Draco questions loudly, the irritation in his voice evident. Pansy stands up as well, linking her arms with the Blond, and glaring at you up and down.

“You’ve been acting strange all day, Y/N. Blaise, say something!” All three of you looks over to Blaise, who was nonchalantly pretend reading his book, unmoving from his place on the couch.

“What? So Y/N can’t hit Malfoy with a book now? She’s done it before.” He looks up and locks eyes with Pansy, “I don’t give a fuck” written all over his face.

“That’s not the point! Why is she so angry over filthy Mudbloods?” Pansy retorts, but as soon as the last word left her lips, you raised your brows at her warningly.

“Don’t. Use. That. Word. Why does bloodline matter? We all bleed red, for Merlin’s sake!” You huff, whirling around to get yourself out of this godforesaken dungeon. Blaise gives a playful salute and trails closely behind, leaving behind the pure-blooded idiots and follows you towards the Gryffindor common room.

“Will you tell me, though? Y/N, what happened during summer?” Blaise stops you just in front of the portrait of the fat lady, and you’re forced to look at your best friend’s curious expression.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You sighed, knowing you would have to tell your best friend if he wanted to come with you. He nods sincerely, although there is a twinkle in his eyes that lets you know he’s enjoying this.

“I fell in love with someone. A muggle-born.”You confess, your cheeks burning like a 1,000 degree flame just by admitting that.

“A muggle-born??” Blaise’s brows shot up to his hairline, his brilliantly talented imagination already making up a scene of you getting disowned by your parents.

“Wait...” his gaze glides past you and at something behind you. “Does it happen to be Granger?”

Your eyes grow wide as a plate, and you almost break your neck from how quickly you turned around. Hermione, Harry and Ron stood there, the door to the Gryffindor common room wide open.

“There was a Slytherin alert. Uhm, Fred and George. Not us.” Harry tries to explain, looking over at Ron for some assistance, but he just stays in place. Wether it’s from shock or fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You... fell in love?” Hermione looks directly into your eyes, as if everything that wasn’t you didn’t exist to her. She climbs out of the entryway, taking a few steps over towards you.

“Uh- I did. Over the summer.” Guessing you didn’t have much other choice than to admit it, you stood your ground and focused on her sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore.

“You did.” Hermione repeated, stunned from the looks of it.

“I did.”

“So did I.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Oh bloody hell, just admit you love each other and move on.” Ron teased from a few feet behind, comfortable now that he saw who he originally thought was a Slytherin nightmare act so awkward and giddy.

Hermione glared at him threateningly, and so Harry wordlessly pulled him and Blaise into the Gryffindor common room. Before entering, Harry almost forcefully rips off the cloak from Blaise, still skeptical of the Slytherin always hanging around Draco Malfoy.

“Right. Anyways-“

Before you could say anything, Hermione hurriedly pressed her lips against yours, her cheeks tinting rose from a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. She’d never done something like this before. She feels like she can hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears, which can’t be normal, but she thinks it feels right.

You feel like getting wrapped into a cloud of euphoria as she deepens the kiss, your hands finding their place on her cheeks. The book clatters on the crème stone floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. Luckily, not one soul is walking around the halls at this hour, everyone getting settled into each their dorms. But you don’t even think about that, for your mind is filled with her, and only her.

After pulling away, Hermione chuckles at your surprised look, mumbling a little “You’re blushing, Y/N.” Before pulling you into her chest for a hug.

You return the gesture without hesitation, grinning from ear to ear and whispering back, “So are you.”

“Come on, we’ll have butterbeer inside. Take your cloak off and hide the tie. I’ll bring my jacket.” Hermione laughs nervously, and looks back at who she swears is the most beautiful girl in the world. Never had she thought she’d get her heart stolen by a Y/L/N, even in an alternate universe, or in a dream.

But she takes your hand, and pulls you into the common room, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

[strangerivy]

Caught

Summary:  Born in the underground, you were doomed to die there. With your will to survive you tried to steal from Levi Ackerman, caught in the act he sees something in you, taking you in under his wing. It's been five years since then and you are loyal as ever to him and would follow him anywhere, even to the corps. Warnings: Swearing | Mild Violent Depictions Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader (y/n) Genre: 18+ | Tiny Amounts of Fluff  Word Count: 2.3k Author’s Note: My first Levi fic! I apologize if there is some inaccuracies I tried to find out as much info as I could on the AOT universe and the character backstories. For the sake of the stories Levi is 26 in this particular moment in time, which i believe is within rough estimate of what he would of been around this time and the reader is 24. As always I would love to hear what you guys think and if there is any scenarios you would like to see for a Levi fic just send me a message!

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

Year 844 - Summer

The Underground. God, what a dump. But I guess you couldn’t complain too much, at least you had a roof over your head, and you ate alright compared to most in the underground. Of course, none of this would have been possible on your own. Levi was mostly the brains of everything. It was him who saw something in you when you tried to steal from him, offering a bed and food how could you say no? What he saw though? You still don’t know to this day and every time you ask; he just smirks and walks off without a word.

That was five years ago now and you were as loyal as ever to him. Of course, you did NOT appreciate how he made you scrub your body raw when he first brought you back to Furlan and his place throwing out your old, ripped clothes and exchanged them for new clean ones.

You launched your hooks of your ODM gear into a nearby building launching yourself forward, you eyed Levi through your hair seeing him shoot a glance at you before turning his attention back ahead. You looked over to your left at Isabel who gave you a beaming bright smile.

You were glad when she showed up on your guy's doorsteps only a few years ago now. It was nice having another girl around even though she was younger than you and had a more innocent look on the world despite living in the underground.

“Y/N,” Levi pulls you out of your thoughts and you look over at him with curious eyes, he doesn’t say anything but gestures with his head behind him. You look over your shoulder seeing what looks to be MP’s. Only this time, there seems to be more than the usual, and while the three in front were in their usual attire the four in the back had on emerald green cloaks with hoods that hid their faces. It seems that the honorary guest has finally arrived.

“Heh, military police again, it seems they never learn,” Isabel looked back looking rather bored at seeing the MP’s, but quickly looked up at Levi with a big smile, “Hey bro was that line cool or what?” She beamed, making you let out a small chuckle at how proud she was.

“Are you dense?” Levi answered plainly causing her to frown.

“Don’t worry Isabell, I thought it was pretty cool,” You smiled over at her and she grinned back at you. Levi took the lead, maneuvering his way around the tight corners of the buildings with ease, the rest of you easily following with your own individual flairs. Levi always said it looked like you were dancing when it came to how you moved in your ODM gear.

When Levi first introduced you to the ODM gear, you were skeptical, not sure if you would like to risk your life in the gear but after seeing Levi use the gear so easily you took him up on the training. Much to Levi’s surprise, you took to the gear with graceful ease.

Your group's quick maneuvering threw off the MP’s that we’re following you losing control of their ODM gear unable to make the sharp turn but the four with the cloaks made it with ease. You shot your hooks out pulling forward through another road ending up next to Furlan this time, Levi now right in front of the three of you after pulling a trick move on our four pursuers.

“That movement, those aren’t MP’s,” Furlan pointed out looking back at the group as they moved easily back onto your tail.

“No,” You agreed, Levi, looked back at you with a blank expression as if to check on you before turning forward again.

“It’s them,” Levi answered, Furlan, letting out a small gasp turning in his gear a little to get a better look at them, “It’s the wings of freedom crest otherwise known as the Survey Corps.”

You grimaced knowing now it was time for your plan to take action, you looked back at the cloaked group before turning back to Levi, you speed up a little on your gas to move beside him and he gave a nod.

“Seems these battle-ready soldiers are a cut above the rest, aye Levi?” Furlan asked with such confidence it made you smirk. Levi glanced over at you.

“You ready?” He asked and you gave a quick nod and then he looked back.

“You two, you know what to do?” Levi asked Furlan and Isabel.

“Of course,” Isabel confirmed, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. I watched as their cables released from the walls pulling back and heard their gear take off in opposite directions of each other shortly after I heard two of the corps people take off after them.

“Let’s see what they’ve got,” You said looking over at Levi with a smirk.

“Y/N,” You looked over at Levi to see he was already looking over at you, “Be careful,”

You shot him a smirk getting into position, “Always,”

You both released your hooks grappling into a nearby alley pulling yourselves faster letting the gear gracefully pull you through the air. Levi and you easily twisting through the air to avoid the clothing lines. Levi shot his hooks into an open window of a run-down building, disappearing with precise speed. You opted above, grappling to the top of the roof launching yourself quick into the air, quickly twirling into the direction you wanted before grappling to a building in the next street over.

You spotted Levi just below you but just before you were going to move down towards him you watched as one of the core members cut him off slamming into him making him lose his foot for a moment. You let out a growl pulling yourself forward to get to him but was suddenly knockdown by a body slamming into you. You let out a scream as you lost control of the gear hitting a canopy from a shop stall then falling on to the ground with a loud smack the air from your lungs pushed out of you with force.

You let out a couple of coughs from the impact getting air back into your lungs. You let out a groan as you sat up looking down the alley seeing Levi holding back one of the corps members. You went to move to get up before you were quickly grabbed, your arms held back behind you.

“Levi!” You yelled in a panic trying to fight off your captor, “Get your hands off me!” You screamed tugging at your wrist that was held with a firm tight grip. The sound of clanking metal coming from behind you. A moment later you felt the cool metal on your wrist and the click of the lock.

“Hey let me go! Asshole!” You looked up to see Isabel and Furlan brought into the alley from the two other corps members. Isabel kicking and screaming in chaotic Isabel fashion. Furlan standing there looking collected as ever.

Levi looked back at those two and then back towards you, his face relaxing but with a harsh glare towards the man and then his knife dropping to the ground as he surrendered. Your captor pushed you to move forward. The Scotts lined you up forcing you to your knees as who you assumed was their leader stood in front of you. A tall blonde hair blue-eyed man with an intense gaze but not as intimating as Levi’s. The man was a giant though compared to your 5”2’ stature and there was something about the way that he carried himself that made him look so determined like nothing could stop him from reaching whatever goal he set for himself.

He held up one of your ODM gears to the four of you. “I want to ask you a few questions, where did you get these?” he asked looking at the four of you but then landing on Levi where his gaze stayed. The four of you remained quiet, “Each one of you is pretty skilled, who was your instructor?” More silence from the four of you. The man remained calm taking a few steps forward stopping in front of Levi. You looked over at him with a sharp glare and he eyed you with a curious look before turning to look back at Levi.

“You must be their leader have you ever undertaken squad training before?” He asked directly to Levi now. Levi remained quiet his gaze never moving from the ground. After a minute of silence, a hand shot out into your view grabbing Levi tightly by the hair pulling him backward, and then slamming his face into the ground into a puddle soaking the ends of the collar of his shirt brown with the muddy water.

You let out a growl and fought your bindings to get to Levi, one of the other Corp members coming to hold your still by grabbing a hold of your arms.

“Get your hand off him,” You screamed with a protective rage.

“Asshole!” Isabel shouted angrily at the corps member. Levi struggled to turn his head out of the muddle shaking with anger as he glared up at the blonde.

“I’ll ask again, where did you learn to use the 3D maneuver gear?” Levi remained silent once again keeping his eyes trained on the man and vice versa. Never breaking their gaze from each other, almost as if they were challenging one another.

“Is it really that crazy?” Furlan shouted up at the blonde, “We’re self-taught!”

“Self-taught? That’s absurd,” The man said not believing what was the actual truth.

“We wanted to escape this place, something a man like you could never understand! You lived your whole life above ground while we suffered down here!” Furlan yelled at the man.

“Yeah, now take your filthy hands off of my bro!” Isabel yelled up at the man “Stop pretending to be all tough just because you’re soldiers,” The man hummed curiously looking up at the man who was holding Levi’s head down speaking to him silently. The one holding Levi down grabbed him by his hair lifting back him up.

The blonde kneeled to Levi looking at him curiously, “My name is Erwin Smith, what is your name?”

“Levi,” Levi spoke for the first time.

“Levi, I’m going to make you a deal,” the blonde, now known as Erwin, offered, Levi raised an eyebrow at him.

“A deal?” He questioned.

“We will let you and your group off the hook this time, I only ask for your strength.” Erwin paused his growing more serious as he stared down at Levi, “Join the Survey Corps, or else.” You all let out a gasp at the offer looking at Levi to see what his response was. But you already knew what it would be. The plan going well so far. You just need to keep playing the part.

Levi narrowed his eyes at Erwin, “Or else what?”

“You’ll be handed over to the military police and considering the length of your Rap Sheet. The military police will make sure you guys suffer far worse than anything down here.” Erwin walked back a few steps looking out into the underground before turning around with a knowing smirk, “You make the call Levi,”

Levi stayed silent staring up at Erwin, water dripping from the ends of his hair from the puddle he was shoved into. “Very well,” He agreed but a cold glare on his face towards Erwin showed his distrust to the man, “I’ll join the Survey Corps, you bastard.”

Your body tensed as the realization hit that the plan has worked so far but that also meant you were going to have to be a part of the military for a time. Levi was the first to have the cuffs removed and then you, Levi moved over to you kneeling, gently taking your hands turning them over to inspect your wrist.

“You alright?” He asked softly seeing the red marks on your skin left by the cuffs from you pulling on them, his thumb rubbing over them gently as to not irritate the skin more. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he broke his cold stare for a moment replaced with a warm caring gaze before helping you stand returning to back his usually unamused look before anyone else could see.

Except for Furlan that is, he was looking over at you with a knowing smirk as Levi went to check on Isabel. That kid didn’t miss a damn thing. You remember back to a night not too long after you agreed to join their group after living with them for a few months where he mentioned that Levi seemed to have a soft spot for you, you called him an idiot and he laughed waving you off. But since that night you couldn’t help but notice the small things he did differently with you.

You rubbed your wrist as he went to check on Isabel and Furlan. The Scouts lead you out of the underground and you paused as you were about to step out on the surface. You had to admit you were a bit nervous. You had never stepped outside and you honestly never thought you would. The underground was all you knew. It may have been full of struggle and holds some of your darkest memories, but it was familiar at least. You knew what to expect from your day-to-day life.

Isabel stopped next to you feeling your uneasiness, you looked over at her with a small frown upset with yourself for not being able to do something as easy as taking a step. She offered out her hand and you stared at it.

“Together?” She offered quietly with a toothy grin, you let out an uneasy breath with a slight nod grabbing hold of her hand as you both crossed the threshold to the surface together with a smile and chuckle. You looked up with bright eyes at Levi and Furlan who were standing there waiting for the two of you. Furlan with a bright smile and Levi with the hint of one his lip twitching up.

“Tch, idiots,”

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

[svnflowervol666]

harry doing baby bubs hair in the bathroom while she’s facetiming mitch 🥺

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: This made my heart melt. It’s in a puddle on the floor right now. That’s all.

“Baby, ye’ gotta sit still,” Harry huffed as he resituated his daughter on the bathroom counter for probably the fifth time that morning.

She was normally a patient and well-behaved child despite her ripe age of three, but today she was really showing her age.

“Want mummy do it!” she whined, smacking her pudgy toes against the inside of the sink.

“I know ye’ want mummy t’ do it. I want mummy to do it too, but she had t’ go t’ work early. ‘S just me and you today.”

Harry reached for the spray bottle filled with water with his right hand while keeping a firm grasp on his daughter’s unruly head of curly hair with his left, determined to tame the frizzy strands that seemed to have run wild while she slept the night before. A ponytail shouldn’t be this fucking hard. Should it?

He spritzed the bottle a few inches away from her head, trying to smooth down the baby hairs that littered her hair line. And he almost had it. That was, until his daughter tucked her head downward in agitation and caused Harry to lose his grip and the poofy tufts of chocolate brown hair to fall once more around her forehead and ears.

A exaggerated (but not really, it was well-deserved) groan erupted from Harry’s chest, and a feeling of defeat washed over him. He rubbed his tired eyes with the knuckles on his fingers. It wasn’t a big deal and he knew that, but the fact that he couldn’t do his daughter’s hair was making him feel like a failure of a father. 

“What’s it gonna take for ye’ to stop squirmin’, huh? Will ye’ just be good so daddy can do your hair and we can get ya t’ nana’s?”

She was getting restless now, the hard stone making her tiny bum ache and her attention span dwindle down to the point of non-existance.

“Daddy, I want dowwwwwn,” she fussed as she balled her hands into fists and hit them on her knees in protest.

“I’ve got t’ fix your hair, lovie. Can’t have it hangin’ in your eyes. Just be still for a few seconds. Ye’ know what? Here. Play with this.”

Harry fished his cell phone out of his back pocket and placed the sleek device in his child’s lap. He was normally against letting her mess with his phone in fear that she’d accidentally delete an important file or call one of the dozens of influential figures he had saved in his contacts, but at this point he’d do just about anything to make her stop moving so that he could put her damn hair up.

Her eyes seemed to light up when she realized what she now held in her possession, fingers moving quickly to unlock the screen and cause whatever damage her heart desired. It didn’t take her long to realize that unlike her mother’s, Harry’s phone was locked with a passcode and she was unable to get into it.

“Fix it, daddy!” she exclaimed, raising the phone over her shoulder while Harry had finally managed to regather her hair into a somewhat presentable bundle.

He cursed under his breath and let her curly mane go once more, then took the phone back from his daughter. It was unlocked and back in her arms in a few seconds flat, to which Harry’s millionth attempt at corraling the curls he undoubtedly passed down to her began. 

In an instant, she’d forgotten all about how antsy she was, now busying herself by opening random apps that caught her eye and pressing random keys that meant absolutely nothing to her because she was a three year old that couldn’t read, but it didn’t deter her from thinking she was a proper adult doing adult things on her very own cell phone.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when she seemed completely content, reaching once more for the spray bottle to rewet the comb he had been using to smooth over his daughter’s scalp. She put up no fight when he pulled her hair taut against her head, almost as if she had forgotten he was even there as her pudgy fingers tapped away on the glass screen.

The silver lining was now in reach, the finish line only a handful of long strides away. He was satisfied with his work. Sure, there were a few lumps and bumps, but nothing his wife or mother would fuss over, so he raised his arm up to his mouth to pull the neon pink hair band from his wrist with his teeth. As fate would have it, just as he began securing her ponytail with the hair tie, the flimsy elastic snapped and shot to the floor, leaving the toddler’s hair in a bird’s nest on top of her head and Harry’s patience at it’s end. 

“You’ve got t’ be bloody kiddin’ me,” Harry groaned, having to turn his body away from his daughter as if the fuse attached to his last nerve was going to implode at any second. 

He was now certain that whatever higher power in the sky was planning his demise on this bright and sunny Tuesday morning.

With the last bit of his dignity, he knelt down to open the cabinets and rummage through the bin with all of his daughter’s clips and bows until he found another hair tie that would match the outfit he’d picked out for her to wear. He kept a firm hand on her back as he jumbled around the contents of the container, just in case she lost her balance and fell backwards off of the counter (she didn’t really need the extra reinforcement, but he’d not quite been able to shake the over-protective dad persona that he’d adopted whenever she was much smaller and prone to flinging herself backward without warning). There was no additional pink hair tie in sight, so he was forced to go with a bright green one that didn’t compliment what she was wearing in the slightest, but it was just nana’s house, so who gives a shit, he thought to himself. 

As he was regaining his stance from where he was balanced on his haunches, he heard a deep voice that wasn’t his daughter’s echo off the walls of the master bathroom.

“Hey, man! What’s goin’ o-,” the voice, which Harry now recognized as his best friend’s came to an abrupt hault when the camera focused and the man was able to see who was actually facetiming him at seven o’clock in the morning.

“Oh. You’re not Harry,” he toyed, trying to amuse the tiny girl he’d known and loved since the minute she was born.

“Mitchy!” Harry’s daughter yelled directly into the speaker of the phone, causing Mitch to hold his own phone several inches away from where he had it resting on the arm of his sofa.

“Hello, princess. Where’s your dad?”

“Right here,” Harry interjected with a grunt as he willed the pain in his knees (and back) away.

“Sorry, she’s messin’ with m’ phone. Must’ve called you on accident.”

“No worries. ‘S a lovely surprise. What’re you two doin’? You on baby duty this mornin’?” 

Mitch could see Harry messing with the toddler’s hair, a purple comb balanced in between his teeth and locks of wavy, brown hair slipping in and out of the frame as he gathered it on top of her head.

“Yep,” Harry spoke through the comb, “And it’s not goin’ s’ great.”

“Judgin’ by the look on your face, I’d say so.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Mitchy!” Harry’s daughter called for him again as if to refocus the attention of this conversation back on herself.

“Yessss?”

“I see kitty?” her voice raising an octave as she asked to see the kitten he’d adopted a few months ago that she adored oh so much.

“Kitty’s sleepin’ with Sarah right now, bug. Can’t wake them or they’ll both be grumpy for the rest of the day. Why don’t you come over and visit and you can see all of us? We miss you,” Mitch pouted dramatically at the camera, making the small girl giggle in a way that made him smile right back at her.

He’d always been rather reserved, but had quite the soft spot for his close friend’s bub and couldn’t help but show her all of the affection that he could.

“Daddy, I go to Sarah’s house?” she jerked her head back to look at her father, whose life flashed before his eyes when the sudden movement almost caused his to drop her hair again.

Harry quickly turned her jaw back towards the mirror with his thumb to keep another disaster from occurring.

“Maybe later, petal. You’re going to nana’s today. Daddy and Mitch have to go t’ work.”

“You play songs?”

“Yeah. Gonna play some songs,” he laughed at his daughter’s earnest attempt at understanding what he did for a living.

“Are you bein’ good for ye’ dad?” Mitch asked, seeing Harry’s struggle and doing what he could to distract her while Harry smoothed the final lumps over her delicate head with the fine-toothed comb.

“Yeah, I bein’ good,” she gloated, flashing her tiny baby teeth.

“If that’s what ye’ want to call it,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

He wasn’t quiet enough for Mitch to not hear his snide comment, to which he let out a chuckle towards Harry.

“I take it you’ve got a bit of a fibber on your hands?” Mitch directed at Harry.

“No kiddin’,” Harry huffed, face concentrated on one stubborn tendril of hair that wouldn’t lay flat no matter how many times he brushed over it, “’Ve been trying to put her hair in a bloody ponytail for twenty minutes. I swear I’ve never seen a three year old with this much hair before in m’ life. Don’t know how her mum does this every mornin’.”

“’M afraid that hair’s all you, lover boy. Those curls are unmistakeable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Is your dad good at fixin’ your hair?” Mitch asked the toddler, knowing good and well he was giving leeway for Harry to be teased mercilessly by his ruthless toddler.

“No, I like mummy do my hair more. Daddy pulls it too much.”

“Listen here, you little monster. If ye’ would have sat still for two seconds, this would have been done ages ago and we could’ve been halfway t’ nana’s by now,” Harry stated very matter-of-factly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mitch intervened, “Take it easy, mate. She’s three. It can’t be that bad.”

“I would absolutely love to see you babysit her for twenty-four hours. You’d be choking on your words.”

“I’d love that, actually,” Mitch snided, “What d’ya say, princess? Sleepover at uncle Mitch’s house with Sarah and the kitty?”

The three year old cheered excitedly, her chubby cheeks widening on the sides of her face at the thought of spending time with her favorite people in the world (aside from her mum and dad, of course).

“No, no, no!” Harry yelled frantically, “Hold still. ‘M almost done.”

He quickly looped the brightly-colored elastic around her bunch of hair that he held tightly in his hand as if an imaginary stopwatch was about to go off and signal that he was out of time and he’d lose control of her curls once more, for which he’d certainly burst into tears.

“Aha!” he held his hands above his head in victory when he was satisfied with the number of times he’d wrapped the hair tie around her hair.

“Finally.”

Harry was breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon, making Mitch cheer him on sarcastically.

“Super dad does it again.”

“You’re not funny, Mitch.”

“‘M very funny, actually. Isn’t that right, bubs?”

“Uh-huh!” Harry’s daughter agreed, earning an eye roll from her father.

“Alright, we’re very late. Need t’ get goin’ before Jeff yells at daddy n’ I’m not sure I can handle much more today.”

Harry scooped up the pint-sized child from the sink by the belly and helped her stand, her hands still clasped around the phone surrounded in a baby pink case. 

“See ye’ in a bit yeah?” Harry asked Mitch as he straightened his daughter’s shirt that had crinkled at the hem from sitting on the counter for so long.

“Yeah. Reckon it’s probably time to go wake Sarah. You be good for your dad and nana today. Alright, stinker butt?”

“I not stinky!” the girl cried, almost offended.

“You’re right. ‘M sorry. Your dad’s the stinky one.”

“Goodbyeeeeeeee, Mitch,” Harry sang monotonously into the speaker.

“Bye, Mitchy!” his daughter called after him.

“Bye, sweetheart. See ye’ at the sleepover.”

She began rattling off another excited spout of words, but was cut off as Harry reached down and pressed the red button on the screen, ending the call. He took the phone from her hands and slid it back into his pocket. His daughter was too busy buzzing from the high of being invited over to Mitch’s house to play with his kitten to throw a fit over being deprived of it, to which Harry was thankful.

“Did ye’ put your bunny in your backpack?”

She nodded her head, yes.

“And your blanket?”

She paused, lips pursing as she tried to recall whether or not she stuffed the worn, yet still comforting wad of fabric that she’s had since she was born into her bag.

“Better go check then,” Harry added, watching her as she booked it down the hall towards her room as if she was in a race against herself to make it there.

“Got it!” her tiny voice came trailing back into Harry’s bedroom, the corners of the blanket sticking out from the giant backpack that was nearly the size of her body strapped to her back. 

The sight of her wobbling back into his line of sight with the oversized bag made him want to cry. She was still so tiny, but where had his sweet baby gone?

“Good gir-” he began to praise her before he realized what he was currently looking at.

In the midst of her running, she must have exerted herself a bit too harshly, for her curls that were styled perfectly just minutes ago were floofed around her head in a (not-so angelic) halo and the hair tie had slipped down dangerously low, mere inches from falling completely out.

Her inherited curls were one of the cutest things about her and anyone with even the worst vision would agree. But, god. At what cost?

“-YOUR HAIR!”