#that hand is probably twice its normal size and smells disgusting

[bookshelfdreams]

.

[103hailey]

Beaten and Bloody

Dracule Mihawk and Reader

Mentions of wounds. Gender neutral. Fluff. 1580 words

The normal happy feeling of being home after a day’s activities were very absent tonight. Arriving at the dock in the cold and lonely island with the castle making its presence known would normally be a relieving sight, however, with the events that had taken place you’re left with a feeling of dread.

It was supposed to be a quiet trip out to a nearby island to potentially practice your swordsmanship but at the very minimum have a good meal of your choice. The universe had other plans.

Walking down a hidden alleyway to keep your presence quiet ended up with you having to fight 5 men twice your size, all clearly skilled in taking advantage of those who are weaker. While you sustained no major injuries other than a gash to your right arm and a potential sprained ankle all you had were some bruises and shallow cuts. You did manage to get some good hits and swings in on your attackers but once they took your berries they left not caring for the fight.

While you did walk out better than it could have gone your mind kept telling you things that weren’t true. With the ride back home being alone you began to believe what was said was true. You are being trained by the greatest swordsman in the world, he took the time to pay attention to you, and you couldn’t even use what he had taught in a fight. What kind of student are you? Knowing how many others would give to be in your position only made the feeling worse, anchoring you further into the hole you already felt you were in. Walking up to the front door only made the truth set in even more than it already had.

Hoping he was busy with his nose in a book and a chalice of wine in his hands he would be too occupied to notice your return home. Having to face the only person whose opinion you actually care about in this state would only make you feel worse. As you walked the cold floors as quietly as possible you can’t help but imagine the look of disappointment and disgust on his face. Mihawk had done so much for you, taking you in when you couldn’t afford to live anywhere, cooking for you, and training you. Truly he was giving too much to you and the way you repay him is not even being able to use the new sword skills he had taught you. All you wanted was to hide in your room and pretend nothing happened, but of course the universe had one more trick up its sleeve to make matters worse.

“You’re out late.” As if the night couldn’t get any worse for you, you felt your heart drop. Of course you couldn’t sneak back in, your housemate is the greatest swordsman nothing goes by him let alone in his own home. “Ya I got caught up and lost track of time.” What a sorry excuse you pray he believes it you know how oblivious you can be to things, but not this.

“Really, was your passing of time that distracting that it has left you beaten and bloody?” You froze. Of course he noticed the poor patch job on your arm and your limp across the floor. He could probably even smell the blood from your small wounds.

“I got caught off guard.”

“I find it hard to believe, you’re more skilled than that.” That hurt worse than the gash on your arm. You knew he expected better of you. Your shoulders dropped and you let out a sigh of disappointment as you turned to face him but not meeting his eyes, this did not go unnoticed.

“There were five of them, twice the size of me, I thought maybe I could take them on but I was quickly defeated. I didn’t mean to be such a disappointment-”

“Who said you were a disappointment?”

You let out a gasp as you looked up to meet his eyes for the first time tonight. They glowed in the light and were as solid as gold. However, what you did not see was any anger or disgust. His eyes were soft but still stern but that’s how he always looks. But this look was a rare sight to see. Taking in his appearance more there was no hat with those obnoxious feathers his hair was free. There was no long coat but instead a white linen shirt that showed off some of his chest. He had no sword and was completely unarmed. He looked relaxed. He continued to look at you in waiting for a response.

“I just thought that if I came home looking like this I would disappoint you as your student for not being able to properly defend myself.” You lowered your gaze not being able to look him in the eye instead focusing on his chest.

“You faced five attackers twice the size of you, it’s a miracle you walked away with only one major cut to your arm. Not many people would be able to hold their own the way you did.” He slowly walked closer to you closing the gap between the both of you but not close enough to see unusual. Deep down you knew he wouldn’t have shunned you but the anxiety running through your veins clouded your judgment.

You looked back up at him to see if anything had changed in his expression, but still, the soft gaze remained. “So you’re not mad at me and going to kick me out?”

“You’re the only person I genuinely care about and willingly chose to spend my free time with. I was worried about you not being mad or disappointed. I’m more comfortable now knowing you got home safe. So, let me take care of that wound of yours.” His words made you feel so cared for something you thought he might never be capable of, but sure enough here he is. He reaches out and grabs your arm to place over his shoulder to take most of the weight of your hurt ankle and being careful to mind the cut.

He brings you to your room placing you on your bed and helps to remove the jacket that’s draped over your arms. Next is your shoes placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. Mihawk then heads for your bathroom knowing you keep a first aid kit. You couldn’t help but stare at the man who’s taking care of you.

“Are there any cuts on your legs or just your arms?”

“Just some bruising on the legs, all the blood drawn is on my arms.” He hums as a sign of understanding. He returns back to you with the kit and a wet cloth. “This will be cold on your skin but it will do for now till I can get some ice for this ankle.”

You have Mihawk on his knees tending to your injured ankle, his hands moving with the utmost delicacy and focusing on his task at hand. “Are you able to remove that shirt so I can tend to those on your arm?”

He looks up at you with such soft eyes it melts your heart finally the man you have wanted is giving you his full attention. “Yes, I have an undershirt on with no sleeves.”

He rose to his feet standing between you to grab the dirty and ripped shirt as you took it off. The cold air hits your skin sending a shiver down your spine. He takes the shirt to the hallway and you assume you’ll never see it again as there is no saving it.

Mihawk comes back and sits on the bed next to you lightly grabbing your arm to begin addressing your wounds.

“Why did you think I would be so upset with you?” His question breaks the comforting silence you had forcing you to speak the truth. “I want to be in your good graces, I seek your approval. I felt I had let you down tonight.”

“I’m never asking for perfection from you because you already are as perfect as you can be. I’m only sharpening the skills you have. Everyone had good and bad days, even I do, it’s ok to need to be tended to. I’m only asking you to do your best for the day and sometimes that may be less or more than the day before. I am not disappointed in you, I could never be as long as you try to do your best.” His words hit you with such shock you didn’t notice the tears beginning to fall. He wiped them away and offered a true small smile. Every negative thought you had about tonight’s incident flowed away. He began to get up helping you into your bed to lay down.

“Lay down and rest. I'm going to get some proper ice for that ankle and I’m assuming you need something to eat so I shall bring food for you as well. Don’t get out of that bed without my help.”

A light laugh left you. “I didn’t know my cuts were that bad that I’m being treated as if I cannot do anything.” As he reached the door to your bedroom he turned to look at you and smiled. “I am only looking for a reason to take care of you.”

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt 3

A/N: Since y’all demanded a plot that’s what you’ll get. Will it be good? No. I’ve never written anything with a plot in my entire life. Ever. Not even when I did Nanowrimo or whatever. I just bullshitted the whole thing. Like I’ll do with this fic. Y’all are going to have to remind me to update because I have the attention span of a goat. I’ll try to update this on Saturdays??? IDK at this point. ALSO, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO POPULAR?????????? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NOTES THIS HAS ON AO3???? 69????SIXITY FUCKING NINE??? I HATE EVERYTHING MY LEGACY WILL BE READER CALLING HEISENBERG DOOFSCHMIRTZ I HATE EVRYTHING DSHFUGSADFJ

Synopsis: You have totally, %100, given up on escaping. Totally. You haven't been gathering supplies for one, final last hurray. Nope. Totally not. All you have to do is persuade Heisenberg of that so you can change your mind at the last minute. Y’all know the trigger warning for this series but if you don’t tw:kidnapping (implied)

Taglist: it’s exclusivly @localdepressedvampire​  so if you want to be on it for just this story or for all my pieces fill out the google doc in my pinned post or dm me and I’ll put you on it. :)

             You’ve made a breakthrough in your long-term plan of escapism. Even with the mini escape attempts that were really about exploring the factory and less about actually trying to get out, you hadn’t made a lot of progress: until now.

             Well, two, really… Okay, maybe 1 ½. Firstly, you found a sawed-off two-barrel shotgun. With ammo. In fact, there was a various amount of ammo around the factory, but no actual gun. Until now. The second discovery, which is nowhere near as useful, was a window. Which was probably 50 or more feet up from the ground. You didn’t get a chance to inspect it that much, considering as soon as you saw it and got a glimpse at the far-off ground, you had to run again from Lycans.

             Which gives you a basic idea of a way to escape. You knew where the ammo was, you knew where the gun was and had a route to the edge of the building, and hopefully could find stairs at the end of the hallway. Now all you had to do was find a time where you could be gone long enough to get a decent head start before, he notices you’re even gone. Even when he was in the workshop, he kept a close eye on you, keeping you in arms-length to the point where it taxed on both of your mental health.

             And even then, in that chair in the small room, you watch him work in the finer details on something the size of your head and torso. You try not to look at the phone in your lap, he doesn’t even know you have it, much less how great the reception is in the building. How did he not know about his old phone that was still working fine? Oh well, he doesn’t need to know you’re looking at memes and reading feel-good wolf-star fanfic on ao3.

             The best idea you had was to leave him while he was asleep, but there were two some issues with that: he clung to you like his life depended on it, your back to his chest and arms around you almost tight enough to keep you awake; it was dark as hell in the hallways of the factory as is, but it would be impossible to navigate safely with the lights; and the Lycans were most active outside at night, which was where you were trying to go. They’ve tried to eat you before as they show no discrimination on food.

             The only way to get a good enough head start would be to leave while he didn’t notice you were gone, and wouldn’t notice for a long, long time. And that when it hit you. The only time he ever left you by yourself was when he had to deal with the other three lords. And while he left you in that basement that you originally woke up in, you had memorized your way out and found that going up five flights of stairs took you to that faithful widow.

             Would you have enough time to explore and look for an actual exit/entrance, or should you play it safe and find a way to go out that window. You wanted to laugh to yourself, you’d never think that going down a 50ft plus drop would be considered safe, but here you were, kidnapped and held hostage by one of the people your late grandmother warned you not to associate with, or even go near. The letter you received directly quoted “the four lords and their mother, Mother Miranda, are not to be approached or associated with at any costs. You’ll know them when you see them, they smell like death and money. See them and run.”

             You can’t help but find that ironic, considering that you did try to run, heeded her warning, and still faced the consequences that were far worse than she had warned you about. You regretted coming here, to this small village, when you first arrived: no friends, and even those you tried to approach held you to her standard and expected them to be just like her. You were far from her kind and optimistic nature (at least that’s what you heard of her; you hadn’t even known of her whereabouts until she was dead).

             Even the duke, who had helped smuggle you into the village, didn’t seem fond of you. It was a shame, you tried so hard to impress him. But he saw you to a point where you could easily reach her old cottage without having too many issues, turned his cart around, and left without a good-bye. It bothered you to no end that your only companion for about a year or so was an elderly outside cat and the creaking noises the walls made at night.

             And then the cat died and not even a week later you got kidnapped. You never considered yourself lucky, but damn if that wasn’t the worst streak of luck you’ve had in a long time.

             You pretend to turn a page in your book and scroll through your Instagram feed, seeing friends having fun at the beach, or studying at the library, or your old best friend taking selfies in provocative clothing to your ex-boyfriend. Did she forget he cheated on you? She wasn’t always the smartest, but she brought that heartbreak upon herself. You see a photo of your mom, she had posted a picture of a black and white photo of her with her mom, you’re guessing, you have no idea who that old woman is.

             This is the last photo I had with my mom before she died. We lost contact after I moved out. I wish we parted on better terms, Nana.

             She’s in a prairie dress, holding an ancient-looking key in one hand, and the other wrapped around her mom, a middle-aged woman with long hair in two braids and a face that had too many stress wrinkles. You guess your mom was as bad as you were in college. The background looks dreary. You would have guessed it to be the quality of the photo if you hadn’t recognized the house behind them as the house you lived in used to live in.

             The loops on the handle of the key look familiar. You spread your fingers apart to zoom in and see the blurry engravings on the side. It was the payment you gave to sneak into the village. You thought it was a worthless family heirloom at most and found it strange that he had even found interest in the key, or even valued it deeper than money in general. Maybe this photo or other photos of you and your family would help out.

             Why is that key suddenly piquing your interest? Were you that bored, as to sit there and think about a key that was at least twice your age? A key that you didn’t even have. You needed a hobby besides escapism and rejecting your captor’s sexual advances. You look up at him again, only to find him leaning against the desk, hat off and sunglass placed on his forehead, his gaze on you. It wasn’t his normal piercing one, that studied you and calculated your every move, but soft and lazy. His current gaze was dreamy; he was daydreaming about you. You found that equally undaring s it was unnerving.

             “Karl.”

             “Yes, Sweetiepea?” Honestly, what the fuck.

             “Firstly, why are you staring at me like that? Secondly, that is the most disgusting way to use that pet name. I need to take a shower after you called me that.”

             He chuckles light-heartedly. Even his softer more genuine, happy chuckles are booming and loud. “Okay… Sugarplum!” And he busts out laughing.

             Clearly dodging the first question and focusing on the second. You can’t believe you gave him ammo for his annoying-you-gun. And you thought you’d grown immune to most of his… less-savory traits. Were you growing used to him? Next thing you know you’re going to like him and develop Stockholm syndrome!

             “You’re a shit head, hobo magneto…” You turn your head away and let your hair cover half your face so he can’t see you smile. You’ll miss him when you escape and get the duke to smuggle you back to your home in Bucharest. But only a little. Just because calling Heisenberg these names are funny.

             “Why don’t you call me by my name, I know you know it.”

             “You sure about that?” You quip back.

             “You’ve lived with me for at least two months now!”

             “Hm…. I think I know your name! It’s uh…” You are totally faking not knowing his name. “It’s… Heidi Carlson? Yeah, that sounds about right!”

             “It’s Karl Heisenberg!”

             “Quit being so silly, Heidi! Maybe it’s nap-time!” This was a little too fun.

             He looks back at his project for a moment and genuinely considers it. “I know you’re being antagonistic but you’re probably right.” And with that, he walks towards you and goes to scoop you up. You have to shut your book quickly in order for him not to notice the phone in between its pages before you let him pick you up.

             He immediately notices that. “Are… Are you sick?”

             “No! Of course not!” Because you genuinely aren’t sick, and he’s already up in your business as-is, you don’t need him dotting on you because he thinks you’re sick or something. You’ll go fucking crazy.

             “You’ve put in zero effort into anything remotely physical since your last little failed escape attempt.” He gave it a little bit of thought. “You’ve given up, haven’t you, and you’re just depressed about it aren’t you?”

             You want to say no, you really do, but if Heisenberg thinks you’ve given up on escaping, perhaps it’ll give you enough space to plan the big one. The reverse heist so to speak. “No- I… okay maybe I have but I still don’t like you.

             He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get us that well-deserved nap.”

             You plug your nose and turn away as a joke. “You’ve gotta take a bath first, you smell like oil and sweat.” You don’t fight it, because you have to play the part, but you still have to act a little bit like yourself.

             “Okay, fine doll, but don’t think you’ve escaped my barrage of affection, because as soon as I get out of the shower-“

             You bonk him. And he looks at you so confused before he smiles and leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. You try to hold the bile back in your mouth and lean forward and peck his lips before leaning back. You failed at trying to not visibly gag.

             “Ew… I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

             “Well, I guess someone caught feelings… Didn’t they?”

[giorno-plays-piano]

You were all I wanted Part 3

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, human trafficking, mentions of non-con, minor character’s death.

Words: 1600.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

Part 2

P.S. Peter is an adult!

This chapter turned out to be shorter, but it's still pretty eventful. Hope you're going to like it <3

___________

"But what... what if he won't like me? What if he'll take me away?" You sobbed, panic taking over you as you imagined Tony Stark pressing a gun to your forehead.

"No, he'd never do that." Peter left a little kiss behind your ear. "Mr. Stark doesn't take the gifts he's made back. You don't have to be afraid of that."

You sniffed at his words. That's what you were now. A gift. A possession. A pet whose job was keeping its master happy. You had to be grateful you were given to someone like Peter, at least. You didn't know whether he would always treat you kindly, but as of now he had never threatened to hurt you. You could only pray for him to fancy you so he wouldn't throw you away like some garbage - apparently, Tony Stark treated his women exactly like that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Of course, you got upset." Peter cuddled with you some more, but you weren't sure whether he was being sincere. Wasn't he sending you a clear message?

Don't go against me or you'll end just like her.

"Oh, I have an idea. Let's go out! Do you wanna see the movie or something?"

You did your best to wipe away your tears and stared at the boy, perplexed. "What?"

"We have a nice little cinema not far from here. We could go right now, just let me check what they've having today."

"But didn't you say I can't leave this place?"

"I meant without me." He showed you the same smug smirk Stark was wearing all the time, and you lowered your gaze to Peter's chest instead. "With me close you can go wherever you want to."

Funny thing to say. In thruth, you could go wherever he wanted to take you.

"Wow, they're having Beyond Darkness in 30 min! We gotta go, you'll loooove this."

"Sure."

In five minutes you were already hurrying after Peter and trying to look nowhere but your shoes. Regardless of what was there in Stark's Tower, you didn't want to see it, not even mentioning all those guys with guns scattered across the building. Peter was saying his hello to each and every one of them as if he were some mafia's social butterfly.

Whatever. You knew Peter was Tony's favorite not because he had a pretty face. You had never particularly asked what his role in all this was, but it was obviously something way bigger than running errands for the gang. Maybe it was better to never figure it out.

"Hey girl, wanna have fun?" Somebody to your left asked you, and you flinched involuntarily, keeping your head low.

Peter stopped in the very same second and sent the stranger a hard look.

"Mike, you offer my girl drugs one more time and I'm gonna shoot your cute little brother in the leg, you hear me?"

You raised your eyes to Peter's smiling face and regretted it immediately. There was something so dark in his gaze you wanted to turn around and run until you were back to your room, hiding somewhere in the corner.

"Shit! Sorry, Spidey!" The guy's high-pitched voice sounded frightened. "Didn't know you got a girl!"

"Yeah, yeah, see you later, we're kind of busy now." Peter grabbed your hand and pulled you away, heading to the exit. "I forgot to mention before that we don't do drugs. At all. They're good for business, but not for us, ok, Baby?"

"Yes, Peter." You answered and kept chewing your lips, thinking of all the things he had just said. You suspected him to be more ruthless when you weren't around, but never to such extent. How damn scary was real Peter Parker?

"And don't worry, I'd never shoot his brother in whatever part of his body." The boy said it like it was something obvious and you didn't even need to pay attention to it.

Why then did that guy look completely horrified?

When you had finally stepped outside and felt the wind playing with your hair you were ready to cry. Just walking out of the Tower was a fucking torture.

It was already dark, and you pulled the zipper on your pretty blue jacket up, going almost shoulder to shoulder with Peter. Normally you'd be at least a little scared to walk the streets of a big city at night, but the guy your mother had warned you about was already holding your hand.

The place the boy brought you to was truly small but cozy with nice vintage red seats, the delicious smell of caramel popcorn spreading everywhere. It turned out that the movie was something in between Star Wars and Star Trek, which wasn't surprising because Peter was a sucker for anything related to sci-fi. Anyway, it wasn't bad and you actually enjoyed watching it. The movie helped you to keep your mind off your earlier encounter with the drug trafficker and the words Peter said.

The only way to live like that and stay sane was to turn a blind eye to anything that happened around, you thought. It was cowardly and revolting, but what could you do against one of the most, if not the most, dangerous gangs in New York? Surely, even if by some miracle you could flee the Tower and go to police, would they really be willing to help you? No, they would return you to Mr. Stark. You were a hundred percent sure he got it covered.

"Are you feeling tired, Baby?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Peter who smiled at you so lovingly it could make any girl cry.

"Just a little bit."

"Want me to give you a massage when we gonna get home?" His expression quickly turned devious, and he winked at you.

Yeah, great, now you'd have him fucking you before your knees were giving out. The kid had such stamina he could be an Olympic athlete, no less.

"Aw, I love when you blush like that." Chuckling, he put his arm around your shoulders and inched closer to give you a quick peck on the lips. You forced youself to enjoy his little signs of affection and start thinking you ought to be thankful he wasn't into heavy BDSM practices or something like that.

While you two were kissing again, you heard someone's loud footsteps as if this person just jumped out of the corner, and then there was a hateful outburst, "Stay were you are. Your wallets, quick!"

You froze, your hands getting cold as you stared at the face of a guy standing in front of you with a knife in his hands. He was clearly unstable, sick - you could see the dark circles around his eyes, the unhealthy color of his skin, and his greasy hair sticking to his forehead. You didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was twice bigger than Peter. The guy would probably have no problem with slicing both him and you into pieces if you didn't comply.

"I said g-"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Peter let out a frustrated sigh before you heard the loud sound of the gun firing.

There was a little black hole in the guy's chest, blood seeping through his dirty white t-shirt and coloring it in a beautiful deep ruby color. You could see the confusion in the eyes of the stranger, his mouth half-open. Slowly, he went down before his legs gave out and he landed at the ground with a loud thud. He didn't move after that.

"Come on, attacking a couple of high shoolers? You're such a psycho, man. Who were you gonna go after us? Kids?" Peter rolled his eyes and hid the gun under his bomber, turning away from the man he murdered and shouting to someone behind him. "It's ok, people! It's just me, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! Calm down, go home, it's late!"

You were still staring at the large pool of blood spreading beneath the body of a stranger - lack of light made it look like it was an odd black liquid. Before you could take your eyes elsewhere, you felt bile quickly going up your throat and vomitted, moving to lean your hand on the wall of a building. He killed him. Peter killed him. You didn't even see him pulling out the gun.

"Oh Baby, I'm so sorry." The boy gently held back your hair when you threw up again, feeling scared, disgusted, feverish and cold at the same time. "That's why I don't like drugs and what they do to people. That shithead lost his mind, you see? No sane guy would ever jump on me or my girl like that."

Despite him being so tender, you couldn't even turn your head to look at him as you started shaking from his touch.

You kept emptying your stomach a few more minutes before Peter softly wiped your mouth with his handkerchief and took your arm, walking you back to the Tower and saying all those unnecessary things about how terrible some people are and how everyone has to take care in the dangerous world they're living in. You didn't hear half of that, but you cared little for his chattering.

Peter had shot the man without showing even the slightest regret. He'd shoot you the same way if you ever turned against him - he was Stark's favourite, after all.

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki  ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

[clareguilty]

Pulled Punches

Soldier 76/f!reader Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count:  ~3000

A smutty gift fic for a friend ;)

“You’re pulling your punches,” Jack crossed his arms. You could imagine his look of disapproval behind his visor.

“No I’m not.” Your response was immediate. Childish. He may have been right, after all. You flipped the grip on your training knife, taking a defensive stance.

“You aren’t attacking with your full weight. If you don’t put more force into it, you won’t do any lasting damage.” 

It was frustrating, training CQC with a literal supersoldier. You were untrained, yet you were going up against someone twice your size and with years more experience than you. Jack had beat you every single round for the last half hour, but he refused to let up.

Even though he had his visor on, he was dressed down to just a black tshirt and pants without any of his armor or gear. It was hot as hell in the desert, and you had followed suit in just a loose sleeveless top and some leggings. It was becoming harder and harder to focus as your heart pounded with exertion and Jack’s muscles flexed under his shirt. Why the hell was he so ripped? You had watched him rip a steel door off its hinges two days ago, and now you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his biceps moved under his sleeves.

“Agent, focus,” he snapped. You glared at him. 

“Focus on what?” you asked, cocking your head. You were getting tired of this.

Your insubordination must have struck a nerve, because Jack darted forward in an instant, knife drawn faster than you could blink. You sidestepped, ducking under his outstretched arm and taking a few quick swipes at his midsection. He knocked you with his unarmed elbow, and you stumbled back. A boot swept behind your ankles. Suddenly, you were looking up at Jack as he knelt to roll you and pin your knife arm behind your back.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

He chuckled. The sound made your blood boil. “You need to attack from your core, that’s the only way you’ll have enough strength to disarm your opponent. Don’t worry about hurting me. I can take it.”

“Let me up,” you hit the ground. You didn’t want to admit that you liked the heat of Jack’s hand against your back, or the feeling of his weight on top of you.

He relented, stepping back as you pulled yourself to your feet and readjusted your stance yet again. You were pissed. This whole thing felt pointless. You would never be able to beat Jack. Would you even be good enough to make it out in the field? You had been traveling with Soldier 76 for a few months, and it was hard not to feel like dead weight. He was an ex commander. You were just some naive kid who didn’t know when to quit.

So you squared your shoulders and readied your blade. Jack only seemed amused by your anger. He probably thought it was pitiful.

Except when he attacked this time, you didn’t just sidestep. You dropped low underneath his attack, stepping in close and headbutting him right in the stupid fucking visor.

The impact made your vision go white. Still, you shoved into him with everything you could manage, forcing him back half a step. His balance was unshakeable, but you were too damn mad to even bother taking him down. You just went for blow after blow until he pushed you off of him.

It was a quick reset for you, and you lunged again. This time, he trapped your arm with his, blocking your next swing. You reached to grapple, but he trapped that arm as well. Your leg was lifted and you went down swiftly but gently.

You were pinned beneath Jack, snarling and furious. He pulled the knife from your hand far too easily for your liking. 

“That was great,” he praised you, never breaking his hold on you. “Much better.”

“You motherfucker. Don’t patronize me.” You were fed up with Jack constantly talking down to you.

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Just get the fuck off me,” you shoved at him. He backed off and offered a hand to help you up, which you ignored. You stormed back to the bunker, fed up with sparring for the day.

The bunker was an old shelter from the omnic crisis, set into the side of a hill and pretty well fortified as well as off the grid. You didn’t question how Jack knew to find it, or how well stocked it was -- as though someone had been through recently and replenished the supplies. It was one room with an adjoining bathroom, minimal counter space, gas cooktop, low cots scattered about and an old sofa with a coffee table strewn with incomplete decks of cards.

Jack didn’t come back inside until later; he probably wanted to give you a chance to cool off. 

“I’ve got food,” he announced as he pushed open the heavy door. The smell of meat and corn hit your nose, and suddenly you were much more forgiving.

You dug into your portion. Jack ate on the other side of the room, but you could feel his eyes on you. 

“What?” you demanded around a mouthful of food.

Jack chuckled and shook his head. “You are the most insubordinate little shit I’ve ever had the pleasure of traveling with --  and that includes Jesse McCree of all people.”

You scowled and turned away.

“I’m very proud of you,” Jack said, and you nearly choked on your food. “You learn fast, and you train hard. It’s good to see you’re improving every day.”

“It’s not enough,” you shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘not enough’? You’re picking up combat skills on the fly as fast as any of the best recruits I trained back in Overwatch. I’m amazed at how well you understand everything, it doesn’t come easy to everyone.”

“But it’s not fast enough,” you turned to face him. “I’m still years behind everyone else. Shrike? Reaper? Widowmaker? They’re the best at what they do. Even the fucking cowboy can aim while he’s drunk. If I keep dragging you down, you’re going to get hurt.”

Jack seemed shocked by your outburst. “I wouldn’t keep you around if I didn’t think you could handle it. I knew the risks when I let you travel with me.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear. “I’m going to shower and get some sleep.” Your chair scraped across the floor.

You had grown used to the closeness that came with traveling with Soldier 76. The shared space, the unspoken boundaries. He had spent years living in close quarters with other soldiers on the field. Your life had left you no stranger to such things either. 

Except for the feelings you constantly tried to push down. The respect and adoration for this hero who had picked you up off the ground. You had tried to play it off as admiration for his service, and a stupid celebrity crush, misplaced feelings because Jack was the only person you saw most days. But that wasn’t the truth. It was something deeper, something dangerous. You had fallen for this man who was training you, caring for you. 

Too bad he would never feel the same.

‘Agent.’ ‘Recruit.’ That’s all you were. Jack was a hero, more than you would ever be. You were nothing to him. It hurt. You settled in on your cot, facing the wall and counting the minutes until Jack turned the lights off. 

-

You woke up screaming. Gasping for air. Someone was there, and you lashed out without thinking.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jack’s rough voice brought you back to reality. “It’s me. I’m right here.”

Jack. He was alive. He was safe. You fisted your hands in the worn material of his shirt and buried your face in his chest. Your cheeks were wet with tears.

“You had a nightmare,” he said calmly. “Have you been having them recently?”

You nodded, clinging to him desperately in case he tried to disappear. “Ever since we faced Reaper in Mexico City.”

Jack hummed. He was thinking. “You’re worried he could have killed you?”

“I’m worried he could have killed you,” you shuddered. “He almost did.”

A hand smoothed down your back, rubbing large circles. “He’s almost killed me a hundred times.”

“Not helping.”

“No,” Jack breathed, “I guess not.” He moved to sit on the tiny cot, pulling you into his lap and holding you to him. “I thought you would be glad to be rid of me? No one to kick your ass in training.”

“Still not helping,” you said.

“Alright. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’m too damn stubborn and petty to die at this point. And these days I’ve actually got something to fight for. Something worth protecting.” His voice, normally so strong and commanding, wavered just a bit. 

“What’s that?” You finally looked up at him, tear-stained and trembling. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“You bastard,” you cursed and beat a fist against his chest.

“What did I do this time?” He asked. He was smiling, you could hear it.

“Don’t you know I’m in love with you?” It wasn’t how you wanted to confess. You hadn’t wanted to confess at all. You were fine taking your feelings to the grave rather than face this kind of vulnerability.

He froze. A moment of careful consideration. Risk evaluation. 

“I thought you were smarter than that,” he finally admitted.

“I thought I was too,” you huffed.

“You need sleep,” he said, trying to change the subject.

“You’re supposed to tell me to get over it.” Why was he still holding you? Why hadn’t he pushed you away? He should have been disgusted. Offended.

“What?”

“You’re supposed to tell me that I’m a reckless kid and I need to get over my feelings for you.” You needed that closure, needed a push in the right direction.

“I… can’t do that.” He sounded miserable. Defeated.

“I thought you were a hero?” Why were you still letting him hold you? Why were you so comfortable in his arms? You should have been disgusted.

“I’m a sad old fool. And I love you too.”

It should have been the type of revelation that made everything change. You should have felt your heart race and your cheeks flush and it should have been everything you had ever dreamed. Instead, you were coming off an adrenaline crash after your nightmare, and you could barely keep your eyes open as you breathed in the smell of leather and pulse munitions.

You would deal with this later. Everything later.

-

You woke groggy and way warmer than you would have liked to be. Lifting your head, you realized you were sleeping on Jack’s chest, one of his arms thrown around you protectively.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned.

“I feel that,” Jack said, not moving. He had probably been awake for a while, lying perfectly still. Was he scared of something?

“You’re not actually in love with me, are you?” You squinted, trying to remember what dumb shit you had said last night.

“I should be asking you the same question.”

“Am I in trouble?” you asked.

“What would you be in trouble for?” Jack pushed up to his elbows, letting you sit against the wall and drag your hands down your face.

“I don’t know? You’re the commander or whatever. Isn’t it against the rules for me to want to fuck you?”

Jack made a choked sound. He flushed pink to the tips of his ears before finding his words. “Well, I’m not a commander anymore. And I think I’d be in even bigger trouble for wanting to be with you.”

It was your turn to stutter and flail. The thought of your feelings being reciprocated was still foreign. “We’re fucking idiots,” you groaned.

“Well,” Jack said, “What do you want to do next?”

“What do I want to do?” you asked incredulously. “If I had my way, you’d be pinning me to this cot, and I wouldn’t be able to remember my own name.”

It was a bluff. An exaggeration. An attempt to break the tension. You didn’t think he would take it seriously.

He moved too quickly. You didn’t stand a chance, still half asleep and reeling. And there you were, on your back, staring up at Jack’s gorgeous blue eyes as he smirked and settled his weight on top of you.

“Have I ever told you that you run your mouth off too much?” he asked.

For once, you were speechless. No witty remark, no spitfire comeback. You just wanted Jack to kiss you, but you couldn’t even find the words to ask for it.

“That’s better,” he teased you. He leaned down to capture your lips with his own and you moaned against his mouth. It was everything you had dreamed it would be. And you had dreamed about this a lot.

You rolled your hips up to grind against Jack. He groaned low in his throat and rocked back against you. “You’ll let me know if you’re uncomfortable?”

“Just don’t stop,” you fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him to you. You had only gotten this far by some fluke, and you weren’t about to let it slip away. Your hands wandered everywhere, broad shoulders, thick arms, hard chest, firm ass. Jack seemed all too pleased by your admiration, he basked in it with a cocky grin. “Kiss me you cocky piece of shit,” you rolled your eyes.

A firm hand grabbed at your ass, and Jack growled in your ear, “Is that any way to speak to your commander?”

You moaned and let your head tip back so he could drag his teeth over your pulse point. It was a blinding sensation, and you retaliated by grabbing Jack’s cock through his pants. He was hard already. His grip on your ass tightened, a low moan escaping him.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart? You want Daddy’s cock?” He forced you to meet his eyes, holding your gaze as he waited for a response.

“Fuck that’s hot. That’s kinda weird, but it’s hot. Why is it hot?” You weren’t expecting it, but the way it made your stomach flip -- you were definitely into it.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me,” you huffed.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, kissing you once more. This time, the two of you shed clothes piece by piece. Jack marveled at your chest when you tossed your shirt to the ground. He brushed his rough fingers over your nipples, delighting at your reaction. He didn’t need any encouragement to begin kissing over the sensitive skin, taking your nipples into his mouth.

“Jack,” you moaned.

“That’s it sweetheart. Tell Daddy what you want.” He pulled your leggings off and nudged your thighs apart, teasing you with delicate fingers.

You hated it. Hated having to ask for such dirty, embarrassing things when Jack clearly knew what you wanted. But damn if it didn’t make you wet.

“Inside --” You squeezed your eyes shut and bucked your hips. “I need you inside of me, Daddy.”

It was the magic word. Jack couldn’t control himself after hearing it. He stroked your clit and pressed a finger inside of you, quickly adding a second. You moaned and palmed his cock as best you could through his underwear. He was big -- bigger than you had imagined. Damn super soldiers.

It felt amazing, and you would have been happy to come just like that, but Jack wanted more.

“I need to be inside you,” he growled. He kicked off the last of his clothes, stroking his cock before settling between your legs. “Is that okay, baby?”

You nodded, trying to pull him in closer to you. “Please,” you whined.

He rubbed his cock along your entrance, pressing the tip in slightly. “I’ve got you,” he pulled you against him as he pressed forward. It was a stretch, but Jack kissed you so sweetly, whispering to you. He waited, watched your expression and held still until you gave him permission to move.

It was slow, careful, at first. Both of you trying to match the other. You finally found a rhythm that felt right, and Jack began to move quicker and quicker, harder and harder. You clung to him tightly, kissing sloppily over his neck and jaw. It felt so good, everything you had ever wanted. 

Jack’s hand slipped between your bodies, a few strokes over your clit and you came around his cock. He held you as you shook and gasped, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans.

“That’s it, baby.” He laid you gently on your back. “Let Daddy take care of you.”

He didn’t slow, continuing to fuck you as you worked through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He was getting closer. The pace of his hips faltered. “I’m close,” he moaned.

He pulled out as he came, stroking himself and spilling across your chest. It was messy, and you would have been annoyed if it wasn’t so damn hot. Jack stilled for a moment, but he made no move to lay down or clean up.

“Jack?” you asked. He leaned forward and kissed you, pressing your foreheads together,

“Are you able to go again?” he asked.

You were surprised, but you found yourself nodding. Jack was just as careful this time, making sure you were as comfortable as possible before taking you once more. He worked you to a slower, softer orgasm.

You came down from the high, and things started to become too much. It wasn’t the same blinding pleasure anymore. Jack didn’t seem to be tired at all. He brushed your hair out of your eyes, trailing a thumb over your lips. “Hold on, baby. Just a little bit more.”

He came again over your chest. You lay there painting as he shuddered through his second orgasm. This time, he wiped you down carefully, splitting a bottle of water with you. He pulled you close to him. 

“You’re still hard?” You felt his cock against you.

“Don’t worry about it -- super soldier shit.” He nuzzled against your skin. “We’re not training today. I just want to lay here.”

You were perfectly fine with that.

Masterlist

[xaviermayne]

My Brother's Favorite Toy: Part Two

"Get the fuck out of here," Grayson said, throwing his hand toward the door.

"Dude, I've got a raging bone—"

"I don't fucking care!" Grayson yelled, covering his face with a forearm. "I said get out of my room."

Ethan stood for a moment, shocked that Grayson made him work so hard for him, and then wouldn't at least let Ethan take care of his own need.

Once he got back to his room, Ethan's dick had gotten softer, and he was feeling too deflated to even try and finally knock one out. He thought about how Grayson looked after he came, the look of shame on his face.

Things didn't get much better. The next day, they had breakfast in virtual silence. Ethan finally tried to break the ice when he finished the last scoop of his avocado.

"Bet it took a long time cleaning up last night," he said.

"Ethan!" Grayson snapped. "We're not gonna talk about that, alright?" He glared straight into Ethan's eyes. "Like, ever. Got it?"

Ethan sat stoned-faced. How could they never talk about it? They had just permanently crossed a line as brothers. Before that, the gayest thing they'd ever done together was occasionally watch porn together, but only when they were both horny and exhausted from traveling, jerking themselves under the sheets, each in separate double beds in a hotel room.

It had to be talked about. But Ethan knew his brother. Sometimes Grayson just needed time. Ethan would just have to wait.

Later that morning, they were working out when Ethan suddenly realized he'd made a grave mistake. He still hadn't cum since last night, and Grayson was loading up the weights on the squat rack. Ethan was about to be forced to view his favorite in-person porno play out yet again in front of his eyes, with a level of horniness he didn't think he'd ever experienced before.

To make matters worse, Grayson was wearing a new pair of shorts that Ethan just knew was going to drive him crazy. Short red ones made of this clingy combed cotton, and Ethan swore they were at least a half-size too small.

Ethan tried to look away, but his eyes flicked back to his brother's backside as soon as he heard his brother grunt as he lowered himself down, the heavy barbell held up against Grayson's shoulders with his strong arms. As he bent his knees, Grayson's ass pushed out further and further, until Ethan saw the fabric of the shorts straining to hold in his brother's mighty ass.

Ethan felt like his body had just been tossed in an oven, with prickly heat all over him as he felt his dick swell again too. There was a pang of pain as his balls ached.

He worried he might even be hallucinating when he could've sworn he saw the outline of his brother's hole through his too-thin shorts. The same one he'd fingered last night.

Grayson quickly raised back up, then shrugged the barbell off his shoulders, and the weights slammed to the floor, quaking their gym. Ethan was shocked. "Gray, are you okay?" Ethan asked. "That could've gone straight through the floor, bro." Grayson turned around, glaring at this brother.

"Are you okay, Ethan?" Grayson asked in a mocking tone. Then he pointed below Ethan. Ethan looked down and saw what looked like— yep, that was his precum on the floor. He'd been so entranced that he hadn't realized his growing dick had snaked its way through his boxer briefs, the head drizzling precum as it rested between his thigh and shorts.

"Oh, fuck," Ethan murmured.

"You're fucking disgusting, Ethan," Grayson said. Ethan could see the repulsion in his brother's eyes. A vein on Grayson's neck had popped out, and Grayson walked toward Ethan, his muscles juiced up from the set. For a moment, Ethan was legitimately scared of what Grayson was about to do. "We're brothers, Ethan. It's not just gay, it's incest. That fucking illegal. And even if it weren't, like that's just fucking weird, bro. I'm working out and you're literally cumming on the floor, which I hope you're gonna clean up by—"

The adrenaline pumping through Ethan gave him a sudden burst of confidence. "Bro, shut up, you're literally the one who made me fingerbang you last night."

Grayson grimaced at "fingerbang". "You're the one who broke my fucking dildo, bro!" Grayson screamed at Ethan, leaning in his reddening face until Ethan could feel flecks of spit hit his cheeks. "You used something that'd been up my ass, Ethan! You're a fucking freak!"

Ethan was actually trembling now, although he was trying his best to hide it. The brothers had promised to never punch each other, but with all the blood and testosterone flowing through Grayson right now after his workout, Ethan really couldn't be sure.

Suddenly, Grayson pivoted and walked over to one of their weight benches. For a split second, Ethan thought maybe Grayson would just continue with his workout to get out his aggression out. But then, to Ethan's surprise, Grayson pulled down his shorts and underwear. Ethan stood in stunned silence, his mouth agape, as Grayson stepped out of them and laid face-down on the wide, black leather bench. Grayson pushed back his dick and balls so he could lay entirely flat, and then let his legs dangle off the sides. He turned his face away from Ethan.

"W-what are you doing?" Ethan stammered quietly.

"You're gonna fuck me," Grayson said, his voice echoing around the gym. "If you're such a freak and want to fuck your brother, let's just do it and get it over with. Then you can finally be fucking satisfied and we can never talk about this again."

Confused and suspicious, Ethan walked slowly over to Grayson. He wanted to ask more questions, but the sight of his brother's plump buns stupefied him once again, with his cock quickly pulsing back up to full wood. Meekly, Ethan squatted down to part his brother's cheeks. When he did, he was intoxicated by both the sight of that tight pink hole, now in the daylight, and the special brand of sweaty musk that Ethan could smell from his brother's exposed crack.

"Two rules: go slow, and don't cum inside me or I'll rip your fucking dick off."

"Kay," said Ethan. Ethan hocked and spat a loogie on his brother's hole, then began fingering him just like last night. This time, Grayson stayed completely silent. But Ethan knew he was doing good work when he found his brother's spot, and Grayson's dick, pinned back against the leather, started to grow.

For always looking so tight, Ethan was surprised how quickly Grayson was opening up. He figured last night probably helped stretch him. But Grayson's hole didn't even twitch once, which made Ethan think his brother wanted it a little more than he let on.

When Ethan finally got a third finger in, and Grayson's dick was throbbing, a bead of precum glistening in his slit, Ethan pulled down his shorts and underwear, kicking them off. His dick swung round, he didn't think he'd even been harder. He spit twice in his hand and then palmed his dick, making sure every inch was glistening.

Ethan had to smirk when he finally felt the tip of his head press against his brother's warm entrance. He pushed, and his smirk spread into a wide, silly grin when he saw the full tip disappear inside Grayson's muscular ass. But that was the easy part.

The twins both had what they referred to as torpedo-shaped dicks. Rather small heads, but the shaft quickly flared out to their full widths, then sloping back down to normal once you got to the base. So Ethan knew the hardest part was yet to come.

He pushed gently, and surprisingly Grayson didn't seem to mind. In fact, he could've swore he saw Grayson's dick throb hard a couple times right after. When he started really pushing in, though, is when Grayson started to groan with discomfort. Ethan stopped, letting his brother's already-stretched ring adjust to his girthy cock.

When he was sure Grayson must be ready again, he started squeezing in further. Grayson's groan quickly shot up to a yell. "Ahh, fuck! Go slow, what did I fucking say?" Grayson yelled.

"I am going slow!" Ethan shouted, though he knew that wasn't true. He was so impatient to pound away. Then he leaned his head forward and let another mouthful of spit drop onto where Grayson's hole was puckered around his pulsing dick. Then, after a few more moments, slid more in.

Grayson groaned dramatically, slamming a fist into the bench, but the extra spit seemed to help, as Ethan was able to squeeze in the full width with little protestation from the coiffed-haired cutie.

Ethan pulled out a bit carefully, then pushed back in. Grayson stayed silent.

"You're taking this like a champ," Ethan said.

"Shut the fuck up," Grayson said through gritted teeth.

With his next pump, Ethan went a little bit further. Suddenly, he saw Grayson's expression seem to light up in the mirror facing the bench. That's the spot, Ethan thought, remembering a similar expression on his brother's face last night. He pulled out and in again, and he could've sworn he heard a tiny moan croak out of his brother's throat.

Newly confident, and desperate to get his full dick in, Ethan dared to go a bit deeper. Yep, that was a moan, Ethan thought, as Grayson slapped a hand against his own mouth, then buried his face in the bench. Ethan began building a rhythm, plunging his big dick in and out of his little brother. Not his entire length, though, since Ethan wasn't sure how deep you could even go in a guy's ass, and he didn't want to push his luck, as he could hear Grayson's muffled moans and knew his bottoming bro was enjoying that big torpedo middle pressing against his p-spot.

Pumping away, Ethan suddenly felt that tingle behind his balls, and he had to stop mid-thrust. Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, Ethan thought frantically. He remembered the one thing that always helped him not prematurely ejaculate.

Womp womp womp, Ethan sang in his head. Yeah-ee-ah-ee yeahh! It was the old James Charles meme. Womp womp womp! The vision of James's ghostly face attempting to sing worked once more. The need to cum passed.

Pulling back before another thrust, Ethan looked down and saw the lips of his brother's ass pussy puckered around his cock. He was stretching Grayson out so much, it was like Gray's ass was trying to suck his cock whenever he pulled out some.

He pushed back into Grayson's warm, wet, velvety ass, and then continued to pump. At one point he repositioned his foot, causing his dick to tilt down a bit more, and then Ethan could've sworn he started hearing his brother utter little high-pitched "uhhhn" sounds with every pound. Encouraged, Ethan tilted his hips down a little bit more, to where his iron missile was pile-driving nearly straight down into Grayson's ass. In the mirror, Ethan saw Grayson's handsome head suddenly shoot up from being buried in the bench. Grayson's eyes were rolling back into his head.

Ethan kept his rhythm. Looking down, he saw Grayson's ring suddenly clamp down a bit on Ethan's dick. Ethan grunted from how good that felt, then Grayson's ass widened back out. Then Ethan saw Grayson's balls pull up a bit, and Grayson's bulbous prostate, bulging out between his hole and his balls, pulsed hard, almost seeming to squeeze.

Suddenly, a hot white load of cum rocketed out of Grayson's red, rock hard dick. It shot between Ethan's thrusting legs and Ethan heard it splatter behind them, all over the chest fly machine. With another pile-drive, Ethan watched Grayson's prostate squeeze hard again, and a split second later another big load shot out.

Holy shit, Ethan thought. I'm milking him with my fucking dick.

Piledrive after piledrive, Grayson's cock blasted load after load. Clearly his balls had managed to restock overnight. Obsessed with the control over his brother's pleasure, Ethan couldn't help himself from keep going. And though the bulb of Grayson's prostate kept pulsing each time, the loads eventually got smaller and smaller, until it seemed as if Grayson was stilling cumming, but had actually run out of cum. His dick would still quiver as if it were shooting, but it was just blanks.

God, I milked him completely dry. Suddenly something primal kicked into Ethan. He looked up at his brother with his eyes still rolling back, his mouth agape. Ethan felt that warm tingle, but even the meme couldn't help him now. He was in animalistic breeding mode now. With a loud growl, Ethan felt his aching balls seize, and he finally pounded his giant saved-up load inside his brother's ass. Something inside Ethan made him want to breed his seed, as far deep as he could. He heard Grayson grunt in pain as Ethan forced the last inch of his dick in, and sprayed a couple more shots inside.

Breathless, the intense warmth of the orgasm slowly cooled out of Ethan's body. He collapsed on top of Grayson, his dick still balls-deep. Ethan's ballsack loosened and drooped on top of his brother's, which flanked Grayson's softening dick.

Ethan smirked to himself, thinking, Now it's really gay, because our balls touched.

"Ummm Ethan?" Grayson asked, his voice strained.

"Yeah, Gray?" Ethan replied, expecting him to say something like, Get the fuck off me.

Instead, Grayson lifted his head, his brow furrowed, and demanded, "You didn't just shoot YOUR FUCKING LOAD IN ME, DID YOU?!"

Ethan gulped.

[afriendlyphobia]

Hold Me Tight | p.p

pairing: peter parker x reader

genre: fluff (teeny weeny bit of angst if you squint)

warnings: none

Request: hey, can you make a fluff with peter based on the song shut up kiss me by angel olsen? thank you in advance! —nonny

word count: 2.6k

A/n: thank you for this request and bringing such an amazing song to my attention!! thx a million nonny! and uhhhh hopefully this makes sense???

also i have seen ffh twice now anD IT IS LITERALLY LIKE MY FAVORITE MOVIE??? I have so many ideas for fics now lmao. anyway go see far from home

————————————————————————————————-

“Ughh!” you groaned as you flopped against the surface of MJ’s mattress. Her eyes didn’t leave the book she held above her face even as her body flopped from your weight on the bed.

“You should just tell him the truth.” She shrugged, glancing at you for a second.

“I have.” You groaned again, covering your face with your hands, dragging them down your skin.

MJ has been your friend for several years so she was always there for you with all your troubles. At this point she probably knew you better than you knew her.

She seemed cold and monotonous on the outside, even though she was a genuine and really understanding person on the inside. Sure, she could be a little awkward and say things that seemed harsh, but after getting to know her, you realized she was a friend you’d never want to loose.

“You’ve been hinting the truth.” She sighed, putting her book down and turning to face you. “Guys need you to be up-front with him.”

“Then what am i supposed to say?” You said hopping back up from the bed, returning to pace across the small room like you had been minutes prior.

“Well tell him how you feel for starters.” She sat up while staring at you blankly like she had said the most obvious thing in the world. Which, of course, it was.

“Oh, right...yeah.” You rolled your eyes as you continued to pace. “Hey Peter! So I just wanted to let you know that i know we’ve been friends since we were, like, babies and you probably see me as nothing more than a friend, but i like—no love—wait is love too soon?” You paused your rambling to look at your friend.

“I’d stick with like.”

“Right. Good idea.” You pushed back your hair from your face and took a deep breath. “And i like you a lot. You’re just perfect, attractive, kind, smart—“

“Okay okay, i get it.” MJ laughed and smiled at you, a sight few people got to witness (and live).

“I think its great.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “minus all the gushy mess at the end.” You sighed and slumped slightly, stopping your pacing.

“It’s just—hard.” You sat down on her bed again and sighed. “I’ve dropped ever hint i can think of. I’ve practically thrown myself at him. Maybe he just doesn’t like me that way.” You said, voice full of despair.

“Listen i’ve known Peter for a while, and i know that he does not see you as just a friend.” You narrowed your eyes at her in disbelief. “Okay, i’m sixty-seven percent sure.”

“That’s not a very good statistic.” You mumbled, resting your head in your palm.

“It’s better than zero percent.”

“Thanks.” You laughed slightly, attempting to make light of your situation. “I know i should just let it go...but i just can’t shake him.”

You looked back at your friend who was making a disgusted face and rolled her eyes playfully.

“Don’t you have plans with him tonight?” Her face returned to normal, and she smiled.

“Yeah, his Aunt invited my family over for dinner tonight.” You glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand and suddenly stood up. “Which is in an hour. I gotta go.”

She shook her head in amusement and smiled slightly. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

You nodded confidently and ran out of her room and gave her parents a polite goodbye before jogging towards your house which was luckily only two blocks from hers.

The next hour was a whirlwind of emotions for you as you prepared for the night, the looming thought of your plans making you nervous, then excited, then scared.

You had tried on nearly ten different outfits, deciding that most were way to dressy for a simple spaghetti dinner. Eventually you decided on a loose-fitted, slightly over sized sweater and leggings. Comfy and cute.

You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds, fixing your hair and checking your makeup.

“Okay...” You sighed. “I’m gonna do it.”

As if on cue, your parents were calling for you, and the ride to Peter’s house began. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far away, just downtown, so you were there before you knew it.

You entered the Parker’s small yet inviting apartment to the smell of garlic, fresh vegetables, and assorted spices. May greeted you instantly with a hug and a wide smile.

She met your eyes with a strangely knowing look. “Peter’s up in his room, y/n.”

You nodded, thanking her politely before walking up the narrow stairs. You then stood before Peter’s door, sucking in a deep breath, you knocked lightly.

“Open.” You could hear his soft voice from inside. The sound of it only made your heart beat faster.

You pushed open the door, putting a light smile on your face as you entered.

“Hey Pete!” You called as you walked in before stopping in your tracks.

Your eyes widened as your face heated up rapidly, no doubt becoming as red as a tomato immediately.

Before you stood Peter, shirt in hand, hair messy, and only in a pair of boxers. “Uh—uh—“ You stammered to apologize but no coherent words came out.

“Oh my god i thought you were May—“ He rambled as he threw on the shirt in his hand and quickly found a pair of shorts.

You however had already turned around and was trying to hide your embarrassment. “S-sorry, i probably should have said something—I..”

“It’s fine! I totally forgot you were coming over...” You turned around slowly, making sure the coast was clear before facing him fully.

Pink dusted his cheeks as well. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down, avoiding eye contact.

You subtly examined his face, eyebrows bumping together as you noticed the cuts on his cheek and rather massive bruise on his temple.

“You look nice.” He said abruptly, as if knowing what you were about to say. He finally made eye contact, giving you a better view of the rest of his face which wasn’t in any better condition.

But his comment threw you off for a second. Suddenly the butterflies began to pool in the pit of your stomach. Eventually you ignored the giddy feeling a took a step towards him.

“You don’t.”

“Ouch.” He smiled at you, hiding his wince when he crossed his arms across his chest.

“No—I mean, you look nice just—ugh.” You pressed a hand against you temple. “Did you get into another fight?”

“No...no!” He shook his head, taking a step forward toward you only for his leg to give out, sending him crashing into you. You barely managed to catch him, his face inches from yours. “...yes.” He groaned weakly.

You pushed him backwards gently, making him sit on his bed. “Peter...you can’t keep getting into fights with those jocks.”

“Yeah...the jocks...” He seemed to be in a daze as he repeated your words.

You huffed and turned to leave his room. “I’ll be back.”

“Wait!” He called, attempting to stand up and go after you, but had to resort to simply sitting still due to his sore body. “Please don’t tell May..”

“I...won’t.” You said reluctantly before leaving to room and walking down the hallway to find the first aid kit.

It’s not like this was the first time you had to patch him up. There had been several times you had come over to hang out to find him with a black eye, bruised lip, blood dripping from his temple, or several pretty bad cuts. Yet, strangely enough, his wounds seemed to heal extraordinarily fast. He said that it was just genetics, but part of you didn’t believe that at all.

You sighed, grabbing the case from the cabinet in the bathroom and went back to Peter’s room.

He hadn’t moved since you left him, but he looked up from his phone with a smile when you entered.

You sat down in front of him on his desk’s chair and sighed in exasperation. “You need to stop getting into fights.” You rummaged around the plastic case before finding some antibacterial cream and wipes.

“I know—“

“You say that every single time, Peter!” You cut him off, refusing to make eye contact. “But all it does is get worse.” You paused for a moment. “I care about you....a lot. I hate seeing you like this.”

He was silent as if he was processing what you had just said, looking away from you as you dabbed a cloth across his forehead, wiping away the blood and dirt.

“We need to talk.” He whispered, a suddenly nervous smile worked his way upon his lips. “I have to tell you something.”

“I do too.” You confessed, finally making eye contact with him.

“You first?” He asked, wincing slightly as you pressed a bandaid over his sore skin. You finally finished patching him up and leaned back in the chair.

Your hands fidgeted in you lap as you tried to think of what to say.

“Pete...listen I..” You sucked in a deep breath, MJ’s advice from before giving you a tiny bit of courage. “This is so weird.” You mumbled under your breath, wishing you had never said anything in the first place.

“Y/n?? Are you ok?”

“No i’m not!” You snapped at him without realizing it. He seemed shocked before you looked away. “I’m sorry it’s just...you drive me crazy.”

You paused, taking several deep breaths. “I like you, Peter. So much. I throw hints left and right and you never seem to get it. It drives me insane.” You blurted out.

You expected him to either laugh at you or be even more shocked; part of you still hoped that MJ was right and he would confess back to you. What he said what not what you expected at all.

“I know you like me.”

Your jaw dropped open for a second before a small bit of anger began to pool in your stomach. “And you didn’t have the decency to just reject me?”

Your head whipped around to face him, eyes narrowed and eyebrows pushed together. “You gave me false hope, Peter!”

The look in his eyes softened. “I was just trying to protect you.” You reached out for you hand, but you jerked away from him.

“Protect? Protect me? From what?” You ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

“From me.” He bit the bottom of his lip before continuing. “Y/n...I really like you too... But i’ll put you in danger.”

“How the hell—?!”

“That’s what i was going to get to. I’m—“ He was cut off by you pressing a finger against his lips.

“Shut up...shut up and listen you me.” You murmured. “I don’t want your excuses. I don’t care what or who you’re ‘protecting’ me from.”

You leaned forward. “I love you. Peter Parker. You and whatever comes with you!”

He swallowed hard, glancing from your lips back to your eyes. “Are you sure about that?”

You could see the desperation in his eyes. Like he had been craving this, but part of him was still holding back. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted him. Your imagination had run wild so many times, and you didn’t want anything more than what was about to happen.

“Kiss me.” You breathed, gaze dropping to his lips as well. The look in his eyes suddenly changed as they flashed with something you hadn’t seen on him before.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you with no hesitation. His lips were slightly chapped, a strange contrast against your own soft lips.

His hands reached out to grip you hips, pulling you out of your seat and towards him. Hands flying to rest on his shoulders, you closed your eyes shut tightly, savoring the moment since you didn’t know if this would even happen again.

Your back arched slightly, pushing yourself against him. Peter froze for a second before pressing back against you equally.

You gasped suddenly when he grabbed your waist tightly and flipped you over so he was hovering above you on his bed.

He broke the kiss to look back at you, messy curls obstructing part of his view of you. Both of your chests heaved as the tension in the room began to build.

“Y/n...” He looked down at you, memorizing the sight of the girl he loved under him. “I love you too...but i’m scared. I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

“Everyone gets scared, Peter.” You whispered, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “It’s what makes us human.” He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch gently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but i’ll always be here as your friend...or...” You looked away for a moment. “More?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he smiled. “You really deserve better.” He chuckled in a almost sad manner.

“I just want you.”

His smile faded for a second. “Would you still want me even though i’ve lied to you so much?”

You pulled back your hand from his cheek to smack him (lightly) on the cheek. “I have known you for my entire life. I know you—“

“But you don’t know al of me.”

“Then show me!” You sat up, scooting back away from him. “Stop this pity party and tell me already, dammit!”

“Fine!” He sighed heavily. “I’m...” He paused. “I’m Spider-Man.”

You eyebrows furrowed at his words in confusion. “So MJ was right?” You didn’t realize you had said that out loud until a few seconds after you had said it.

“What? MJ—she knows? Ah shit—“

“No she doesn’t actually know, it was just a hypothesis.”

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, but no words escaped him.

“Thanks for telling me, Pete.”

He looked back at you, eyes wide. “You’re angry at me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at him. “You’re a dork.” You crossed your legs and leaned forward, your noses barley brushing together. “But you’re the Peter i know and love...being Spider-Man...is fucking cool dude.” You smiled and laughed as you punched his shoulder lightly.

He winced at the gesture and you realized that he was still pretty beat up. “Oh my god i’m so so so sorry—“

“It’s fine.” Peter placed a finger against your lips, mimicking the way you had cut him off earlier. “I’m a superhero.” He shrugged smugly.

“Whatever...” You rolled your eyes at him. “Today was a roller coaster.” You mumbled out of nowhere.

“But its all i’ve ever wanted...” He admitted sheepishly, running his bandaid covered fingers through his messy hair.

“And all i want...” You smirked, a single phrase changing the mood in the atmosphere. The tension began to grow again as you moved closer to him, eyes hooded. “Is for you to shut up, kiss me, and never ever let me go.”

He closed his eyes, making a move towards you before suddenly backing away and staring at the door.

As if on cue, Aunt May opened the door with a wide smile on her face. “Dinner’s ready guys.” She was about to close the door again when she paused and looked at Peter’s face. “Really, Pete? Again?”

He simply shrugged, but she had already left with a huff and an eye roll.

You turned back at him, a mixture of amusement, surprise, and curiosity on your face. “What was that?”

He hopped up from his spot on the bed, seemingly forgetting about his injuries at the mention of food. He tapped his temple before holding out his hand to you.

“Peter Tingle.” He pulled you forwards, a little too eagerly as you went flying into his chest again. He leaned down, pressing a light kiss to you lips. “Now lets go get some food.”

[grant-spiraltf]

The Summer Is Magic - Grey

@writer-ofstuff was having a good day at home until an email arrived in his inbox which he never thought he’d get. “FIRED?!” As he read the email, it became clear to him that there was no alternative. “Blah blah budget cuts... Blah blah deeply regret YEAH RIGHT if you ‘deeply regretted it’, then why am I fired!” After rereading it multiple times, Writer had enough. He grabbed his coat and headed out. At least 4 shots later, he finally felt all the worries about the future fall off his shoulders. The (kinda cute) bartender came up to him and told him that the bar was closing and much to his surprise, it was already 4 AM! So he asked the handsome lad for one last beer and his number, which he both received with a wink. He clumsily opened the beer and he was welcomed by an unfamiliar smell. “Hey, did you give me a speciality beer?” The barman smiled and said, “Yep, on the house if you allow me to drive you home” before continuing to clean up. Writer took a swig and immediately felt lightheaded. It was probably the beer mixing with the other drinks, but it felt weird anyway. He took another good look at the label, but it all started to blur so he took another good look at the liquid inside. “Why’s this beer grey? Hello?” He glanced around but the bartender was gone. Suddenly the bottle started to vibrate, grabbing his attention again and when he looked at it again, the bottle found its way back to Writer’s mouth and he started chugging it all. Once it was empty, the bottle vanished and Writer felt like a veil was being pulled over his conscience. He looked around one last time and found the bartender leaning against the wall, only with a completely different (and gorgeous) face. With a few blinks that kept getting slower and slower, Writer finally blacked out.

Colin was absolutely smashed. He bantered with his friends about having “Pirate’s Blood”, but once he got started he really didn’t like stopping. So when his buddy Josh Dallas invited him over for a drinking night because the wife conked out, he planned on going all the way. Luckily Josh had a spare bedroom so he didn’t have to travel afterwards. Last time they did this and Colin prepared to go home he passed out in the hall and Josh let him sleep there, so this time he made sure he had a bed reserved.

After 3 beers Josh’s speech had already started to slur. Although he was quite a big fella, alcohol was Josh’s greatest weakness. Colin had downed twice as much but he was nowhere near as drunk. He started talking about all sorts of things that were sort of TMI, like how Gennifer tended to make him eat her out while he had said that he didn’t enjoy doing it. Luckily Colin was able to swing the conversation back to normal stuff with a little effort. After nearly avoiding a conversation about dick size by swinging it to Josh's new personal trainer via bicep size, something weird happened. Although there was no storm outside, somehow a gust of wind was forceful enough to open a window and blow something inside. Colin couldn't really see what it was and he was about to go take a look when drunk Josh pushed him back into the seat and told him that he got it covered. Josh bent over, nearly falling but somehow managing to stay up and he got back up again with some weird glowing ball in his hands. “Lol, this looks like something from the show haha, a magic orb-” Josh was wheezing from his own joke when it emitted a bolt of lightning that struck him right in the chest. Colin was a little tipsy before but now he was 100% sober again. He rushed towards his fainted friend while the blog exited the building the way it came in.

After a thorough inspection, Josh seemed to be fine. “He probably passed out again. Fuck that means that I have to carry him to his bed.” Colin dreaded this because he nearly threw out his back last time that he had done that. Suddenly Josh opened his eyes and gasped for breath. He frantically looked around for a moment before noticing Colin leaning over him, and his facial expression changed from shock to something that Colin hadn't seen before. He backed off a little so Josh had enough space to get back up, but Josh wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Since it was a pretty hard fall it wasn’t weird for Josh to feel weak, and getting zapped sure didn’t help. He tensed his back muscles to give his buddy a solid way to get up, but Josh didn’t get any farther than a foot off the ground. In fact, he just hung around his neck and staring into his eyes like a sloth. Colin was about to say something about how this was kinda gay until he saw that Josh’s eyes were a little more blue than usual. “What the fu-” was all he could say before getting shut up by Josh’s lips.

Colin wanted to push Josh back down and leave, but somehow he couldn’t get himself to do it. The feeling of Josh’s tongue trying to enter his mouth and his heavy breath somehow made him care less about what was happening and just go with the flow. Josh moaned loudly and the breath that came out of his mouth smelled like vanilla, which made Colin’s cock leak precum. This confused him. He felt an insane need for Josh and wanted nothing more than cater to Josh’s every need, but he also was deeply disgusted and wanted to leave immediately. Meanwhile, Josh had started pawing his crotch and tweaking his nipples until Colin couldn’t hold back anymore. He started undoing his pants and grabbed his erect cock, hoping that his lover would suck him off, but when he looked back at Josh he noticed another change in his demeanour. From shock to lust he had gone earlier, but now there was no emotion whatsoever. Josh pushed him back into the couch and Colin hoped that he was gonna dominate him, but to Colin’s surprise Josh stuffed his cock back in his pants, put on his coat and left without saying a word. Since he was extremely erect, Colin decided to jack off to the thought of Josh’s throbbing cock in his mouth. After his fantasy evolved to Josh fucking him in his ass while making out with him, Colin couldn’t hold back his orgasm anymore. He came hard and covered his face with his own cum, catching a few ropes in his mouth. He breathed heavily and smelled a familiar vanilla smell.

Colin looked around. “Josh? Are you back? I came without you, but if you give me a minute I’ll be ready for another round!” Colin quickly devoured all of the cum that was on his face and body, but he didn’t find Josh. Instead, he heard the clanking of a bottle hitting wood behind him and he saw a brand new beer bottle standing on the table. “Okay, I know I said the last one was the last one, but I can’t resist an open beer and you know that Josh! So where are you?” He playfully searched the room for his playmate, but he couldn’t find him anywhere so he picked up the bottle. “GS Specialty Beer? Josh where did you get this? I’ve never heard of this brand.” Colin smelled it and loved the vanilla, so he took a chug. Somehow the beer tasted perfect, but it felt kind of slimy in his throat. After two more chugs he was disappointed by a lack of more booze, so he put down the bottle and burped. And he burped again. Soon he was burping so much that it looked like there was something trying to come out of him. It was then that he heard a little voice in his mind, asking him what was happening. Thinking that this was all just a bad trip or something, Colin laid down on his side and closed his eyes.

When Writer woke up, he had no idea where he was or who he was. All he knew that something strange had happened like in the stories he wrote like he now possessed someone. He stood up and was hit immediately by a sharp pain. “Fuck, I hate hangovers.” He grasped his throat and found new muscular hands massaging his unshaven neck. He stood up, still a little dizzy from all the booze, and ran to the mirror, only to find the handsome Colin O’Donoghue staring back at him, fully naked and fully erect. One tug on the sizable cock was enough to not only make him moan but also a voice in his head. “Colin?” “Fuck yeah, stroke that cock.” Writer found his new hands immediately obeying the orders and he started stroking his dick. After minutes of flexing and stroking, he finally blew his load over the mirror. With gusto, he licked it all up and went on with his day.

“Buddy it’s been a month now, you know damn well that when you drink too much, I get stuck with the consequences!” Writer was mad at his host, but Colin knew damn well it wouldn’t take long. Turns out that they would continue losing control to the other every time they went to sleep. Colin knew that he shouldn’t dump his hangovers on his new partner, but at least he now had no downsides to drinking anymore! “Ugh fine, you know I can’t stay mad at you for long. But that means that next time that Josh is gonna fuck us, I’m making sure he’s gonna fuck us so hard that you’ll feel it for the rest of the day. Colin laughed inside. Like that was a punishment!

[arizaluca]

Stories and Costumes - Chapter 2

And here is the second part. Honestly, why am I doing this and not being productive doing something else?

Oh yeah. I’m sitting in a hotel room.

After a few minutes of cautiously poking at her surroundings to confirm that they were real (in other words, getting scratched by one of the thorn branches and nearly tripping over a gnarled tree root), she ended up looking at a bush with this weird fruit that looked kind of fuzzy. Think a peach, but about the size and shape of a strawberry.

Also the color of a blue raspberry Jolly Rancher.

“Didn’t realize little humans were interested in fuzzfruits.” A deep baritone issued from behind Allie, sounding rather smooth and calm.

“Fuzz-- no such thing,” Allie replied rather tersely, still crouching and looking at the fruit and trying to figure out what the heck it was.

“If there’s no such thing, then how are you looking at it?”

... he had a point there.

Allie reached out and took the... fuzzfruit, the stem of the fruit snapping the second she had it in a secure grip and resulting in her holding a blue fuzzy strawberry. “That’s kind of a lame name, don’t you think? I mean, at least call it a more creative name,” she said absentmindedly, turning to face the speaker-- and abruptly feeling her heart stop beating in her chest.

A wolf that was probably twice her height if he was on his hind legs with dull gray fur that was matted with something that Allie really didn’t want to think about even if this was some sort of weird fever dream and eyes that were the shade of the apple that was in the basket on her arm was sitting on the forest floor, tail ramrod straight as he leered at her in a way that would make most moms scream “Predator!” at him and then grab their kid and run away.

(Look at her, calmly describing this gigantic wolf. Honestly, she had no idea how she was processing this without screaming and running away.)

Dream. Dream. This had to be a dream. A Red Riding Hood themed dream, sure, but a dream. Or a nightmare, I guess, ‘cause the wolf was here.

“I mean, I suppose you have a point.” The wolf’s sneer grew more pronounced as his body slinked up off the ground, paws pacing himself forward as he stared at the thirteen-year-old girl, tongue flicking across black lips. “Though I don’t hear you offering any suggestions.”

Swallow. Allie was acutely aware that her throat was suddenly achieving desert-wasteland levels of dry. She was tempted to grab the bottle of prune juice and drink it, before dismissing it. She wasn’t that thirsty. “Uh... no, I guess not. Um, listen, I, I sort of had a prior engagement--”

Allie barely had time to cringe at the fact that she’d just used the words prior engagement before her back was slamming into hard dirt, basket bouncing and somehow not dumping its contents all over the ground, the fuzzfruit (seriously need a better name for that) clutched in a suddenly very sweaty palm.

The wolf’s lips peeled back in an angry snarl from where he was pressing her into the ground, paws resting on her shoulders. His voice somehow still sounded smooth, if not... menacing.

Very, very menacing.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl?”

Dream. Dream. This is a dream.

A hot splotch of drool from the wolf’s lips dripped off, hitting her cheek and making her aware that his breath smelled like he smoked cigarettes 24/7.

This is a dream. This has to be a dream.

“Uh... would you care for a truffle?”

Don’t ask me why Allie asked this. Her brain had just totally short-circuited and now she was spitting out the first thing that came to her mind. Cue really, really poorly timed questions and silly responses to situations that most people in their right mind would never, ever do.

The wolf’s paw slapped the basket out of her hands, the wicker basket stinging her fingers from the force of how hard he’d slapped it into a bush somewhere behind her, snarl somehow growing more pronounced. “Good god, no, I hate truffles. Now answer me.”

Cue the good decisions train as Allie did the first thing that came to her-- her hand came up and slapped his nose. The wolf did the sensible thing, which was to jerk back, clap his hands (er... paws) to his nose, and say “Ow!”

Allie’s limbs started to move jerkily, propelling her backwards until one hand knocked the wicker basket the wolf had whacked out of her hands a few moments before. Said wolf was recovering from his surprise and glaring at her, teeth baring as he looked like he was about to snarl at her.

Panic mode promptly cued in, and Allie simply flung the strawberry... fuzzfruit... whatever the heck it was right at the wolf. Miraculously, her poor aim actually functioned this time, and said fuzzfruit went soaring straight into the wolf’s throat, as the wolf had coincidentally opened his mouth to snap at her.

He promptly choked and started pawing frantically at his throat, as if trying to keep from choking to death on a fuzzfruit. (Wow, that... would be a stupid thing to put on a tombstone.) His red eyes widened as he gagged, looking much like he would like to throw up.

Allie pawed through the basket that she’d recovered, finding a handful of truffles. Grabbing them out of the basket, along with the bottle of prune juice, she held them like they were ninja stars and not... well, a handful of fungi and prune juice. “Come any closer and I will not hesitate to throw this disgusting filth at you!” she shouted.

(Hm. That had sounded better in her head. Less dorky.)

The wolf was still trying to swallow the fuzzfruit as Allie gave an angry growl herself, lowering her ammunition and narrowing her green eyes at the wolf as her brain finally stopped short-circuiting. “Okay, look you stupid fur-face, this is a dream. I want to wake up. If you eating me is what it takes, then... fine, go ahead.”

He promptly made a grossed-out face in her direction. Which was a new experience, because Allie had not realized that wolves could make grossed-out faces. “Wh-- no! Ew! People taste disgusting, last thing I want to do is eat you!”

He gave a violent shudder, fur kind of standing on end like a cat’s momentarily. “No thank you! The heeeeeeck--”

Allie was about ninety percent sure the ‘heck’ had originally been a ruder word. This was a new experience, apparently this wolf knew swear words too.

“-- has gotten into you, Red?! You disappear for who knows how long and then you pop in and start acting--?”

“Excuse me excuse me excuse me-- what?!” Allie interrupted, one eyebrow shooting up. “Did you just call me Red?! Like Little Red Riding Hood?”

The wolf gave a scowl. Seriously, this wolf was making all sorts of facial expressions that Allie would’ve never expected. “Yes! Seriously, what’s going on with--?”

“Oh.” Allie abruptly calmed down here. It was a dream-- or a hallucination, or whatever-- so no point in getting mad now. “Uh... I’m not Little Red Riding Hood.”

His words didn’t fully make it out of his throat as his brain processed them, before the wolf cocked his head at her. “Oh, you’re not?”

“No. Why, do I look like her?” Allie paused and then gave him a weird look. “And if you’re the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood-- I am certainly hallucinating, by the way-- then shouldn’t you be trying to eat me?”

The wolf scrubbed at his head, a sheepish expression crossing his face as he gave the most awkward cough that Allie had ever heard. “Oh. Uh. That explains things.”

Upon clearing his throat, he gave his head a shake and gave Allie a sheepish smile. (Somehow. She was learning all sorts of things about facial expressions today.) “Er... no. We just reenact the whole Little Red Riding Hood nonsense.”

Allie nodded. Really, this was a dream. This was the most logical dream she’d had thus far in her life. Usually she had something about cats in her dreams, so this was really a refreshing change. “Mm-hm. I see.”

The wolf cocked his head at her again. “Uh... would you like me to explain things?” He paused again, rather awkwardly, before giving a toothy smile that somehow did not look predatory. “Er... I’ve got tea.”

“... are you inviting me to your area of residence for tea?”

Okay, maybe she was dumb for asking, but she was trying to reconcile this weird moment in her dream/hallucination/whatever-the-heck-this-was with normal logic.

A wolf...

Wanted to explain things to her...

Over tea.

"Um... yes.”

Allie blinked twice at this very eloquent response.

“Okay.”

Uh, so this was originally part of the first chapter in the original. That was dumb spacing. Here’s a ‘second chapter’ I guess.

Three notes on either the first or the second chapter and I’ll randomly upload extra chapters.

The original is crap.

... oh boy.

[peculiarmindset]

Hi! I liked your yoi story...Im a huge KNB fan so can I give a prompt? You can choose any pairing but can there be farting in bed? tnx!

Here’s story number 2, this time for KNB. Heads up- I’m fine with any KNB pairing but I favor AkashixFurihata mostly so I’ll probably write them a lot for KNB.

In the Morning

Furihata Kouki yawned as he slowly opened his eyes, wincing slightly at the small sliver of sunlight that managed to break through the thick curtains and hit him directly on the face.

Giving another smaller yawn, he turn his head to nuzzle into the chest that he was currently lying on. Blinking out the rest of his sleepiness, Furihata carefully lifted his upper body, conscious not to jostle his lover and looked at the clock that was on the bedside table. 7:45 A.M.

Sitting up now Furihata stretched, feeling the bones in his body snapping back in place. Looking down at his body, Furihata flushed at all the love bites that were scattered across his chest…and arms…and his thighs….

Winter break had finally started the day before and with no school for the next two weeks, Furihata decided to spend his holidays with his boyfriend, Akashi Seijuurou. He was currently staying at one of the Akashi manors that was located in Kyoto.

Looking around the lavish bedroom he was in (he didn’t get much time to observe his surroundings last night as he and Akashi just crashed through the door as they flung their clothes off and hurriedly made their way to the king size bed) Furihata suddenly felt a little rumbling in his stomach.

Unfortunately, this type of rumbling wasn’t a warning for hunger, but instead a warning for something else.

Furihata bit his lip as he felt gas bubbling in his belly. If he had been alone in his room he would have just let it go with no other thought about it. But with his lover only a few inches away, that was a definite NO.

Slowly inching his way off the bed to head for the bathroom, Furihata let out a small squeak when two arms winded themselves around his waist.

Furihata thanked every god out there that his squeak was the only thing that came out of him.

“Mmm…Kouki? Where are you going?” Akashi mumbled, pulling Furihata down so he laid in his arms.

“U-uh, I u-um…” Furihata stuttered. Even though he had been dating the Rakuzan captain for almost six months now, he still found it awkward to do certain things with the other around. Doing things like showering together and doing couple-y stuff was perfectly fine. But when it came to regular guy stuff like burping and farting?

NO.

“Kouki…you weren’t planning on leaving me, were you?” Akashi asked with a warning tone in his voice. But when Furihata looked at him, he could tell that his lover was only teasing him.

Furihata flushed. “No! Of course not Sei, I was just…uh…” He trailed off. Everyone knew how nervous Furihata Kouki could be (hell, it took one month after he started dating Akashi for him to finally stop stuttering in front of the other man). But not everyone knew that Furihata was very painfully bathroom shy.

Public restrooms were torturous for him. He refused to use the urinals and would be super self-conscious when using the stalls. And he NEVER did more than urinate in public restrooms- if he had to do anything else, he would hold it no matter what until he could make it home. Just mentioning the need to go to the restroom was hard enough for Furihata.

Furihata could feel the trapped gas in his belly wanting to escape and he clenched his ass- Furihata felt even more vulnerable since he had nothing on due to their sexual activities the night before.

Oblivious to his boyfriend’s inner turmoil, Akashi leaned in and left light kisses on the other’s neck. “For trying to escape, I’ll just have to hold you here and punish you, hm?” Akashi smirked as he left a bite on the part he had kissed.

“Eh? But, um…Sei…” Furihata moaned as Akashi took that moment to steal his lips and started to make out with him. As he began to open his lips to welcome his lover’s seeking tongue, Furihata completely forgot about his need to use the bathroom. He began to wrap his arms around Akashi’s shoulders and pulled the other closer to him.

But unfortunately his body had not forgotten his need and just as Akashi began to bring his hands up to pinch one of his boyfriend’s nipples, the gas in Furihata’s belly finally made its way out of him.

POOT!

The two boyfriends froze at the short but deafening fart that had sounded in the room. Furihata, absolutely mortified, pushed Akashi away and covered his face in an attempt to hide from the embarrassment.

“I-I-I…S-SORRY!…” Furihata cried. He could feel tears form in his eyes as he silently prayed for the divine deities to just end him now.

Akashi was surprised at first by the interruption but seeing his boyfriend’s tears made him worry. “Kouki…look at me.” Akashi quietly coaxed the other, gently trying to remove his lover’s hands out of his face. When Furihata only shook his head, Akashi decided to use another tactic.

Furihata gasped when he felt a pair of lips touch his hands. He quickly dropped his hands and looked up to see Akashi’s bright red eyes looking gently at him.

“There you are.” Akashi smiled when he finally saw his boyfriend’s face. Furihata’s face was completely tomato red and tears were still streaming down his cheeks. Wiping away his lover’s tears with his comforter, he asked, “Now tell me why you are crying, Kouki?”

Furihata sniffled as he looked away from the other, still feeling horribly humiliated. “I-I…I’m so embarrassed! I c-can’t believe I just…just…” Furihata shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

“Kouki.” At the stern tone in his boyfriend’s voice, Furihata automatically looked up at Akashi. “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about. Passing gas is a completely normal thing to do. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.” Akashi told him as he stroked his cheek, making sure his lover was listening to every word he said.

“But it’s embarrassing!” Furihata groaned. His stuttering finally stopped when he realized that his lover wasn’t disgusted by him and was actually trying to comfort him.

“You’re only human. Everyone does it. Even me.” Akashi pointed out to him.

Furihata couldn’t help it as he let out a snort. “As if.” Furihata mumbled quietly, not aware that Akashi could hear every word he said.

The room was quiet for a moment, neither of them moving or saying anything, before Akashi suddenly grabbed the comforter and removed it from his own body. He shifted his body so he laid on his side, facing Furihata. Furihata looked at Akashi in confusion as he watched the other push out his bottom a bit, a concentrated look on the young heir’s face.

Pffffffffffttttttttt……

Furihata froze, his eyes wide. But before he could say anything, Akashi- whose face took on an alarmingly shade of red, the same as his hair- held his hand up to stop him before giving a loud grunt.

BRAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP!….

Akashi’s fart sputtered out with a wet sound before finally ending. Furihata was still not moving, only watching as his lover sighed in relief and gave him a sheepish grin as he lightly fanned his backside with his hand.

Even with a blush that matched his boyfriend’s, Akashi lightly said, “Excuse me.”

Furihata felt his brain short-circuit, not believing what had just happened. His boyfriend, Akashi Seijuurou, heir to the Akashi empire, student council president and captain to the Rakuzan basketball team and to the Generation of Miracles….had farted. Twice.

And it wasn’t just a light poot like Furihata had given off. Akashi had farted long and loud and sounded really grossly wet.

And when Furihata was finally hit by the smell- like rotten eggs with onions and fish but times a thousand- he couldn’t help but cough at the stench.

Looking bashful, Akashi shrugged his shoulders. “I apologize Kouki- I only meant to let out a little but I guess I couldn’t control myself well. But I wanted to show you that even I am human as well. So that means I pass gas at times too. Does it bother you so much that you would break up with me?”

Furihata’s eyes widened as he vehemently shook his head at that. “Of course not! I’d never break up with you just because of a fart!”

Akashi smiled widely as he gave Furihata a peck on top of his nose. “Good. I also would never break up with you just because you broke a little wind.” He assured his lover.

Even though his face heated up a bit at that, Furihata found that he could smile again. “Thanks Sei. I feel better now.” Cuddling up together once again in bed, Furihata hummed. “But wow, I didn’t know you could…uh, be that loud?” Furihata commented awkwardly.

Akashi chuckled, a bit embarrassed, as he nuzzled the other’s hair. “Yes. Since I tend to eat a lot of food with high fiber my…well, my flatulence tends to be like that.” Akashi cleared his throat. “I actually do not usually let myself go like that…well, whilst in the company of others, but I felt that if it was in front of you, it would be alright. I am comfortable showing my imperfect side to you.” Furihata glowed at the loving look that Akashi gave him.

Furihata gave his lover a soft kiss on the lips. “It is okay. And I’m actually relieved to know that you are indeed a normal human just like the rest of us.” Furihata let out a giggle as Akashi teasingly pinched him in the side. “Actually, I’m really bathroom shy so that’s why I couldn’t tell you earlier that I had to go to the bathroom. But I guess my body ended up telling y-you.” Furihata couldn’t help the stutter at the end.

Akashi gave him a small grin. “Oh, your bout of flatulence earlier was so cute, Kouki.” He cooed at his boyfriend.

Furihata squawked as he lightly hit Akashi in the arm. “Sei!” He scolded the other. As Akashi returned his lover’s pout with a cheeky grin of his own, both of their eyes widened as a small gurgle from Furihata’s stomach sounded.

Furihata felt his cheeks once again redden once more. “Uhh…”

Akashi held Furihata’s hand in his own as he gave the other an encouraging squeeze. “People do say that when a couple can fart in front of the other that is when they are truly comfortable with the each other and their relationship become stronger and last longer.” He pointed out.

As his stomach gave another gurgle, Furihata decided to let his insecurities go and took a small breath as he gave his bottom a push.

Bbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttttttt…….

And even though this fart was definitely worser and smellier than his first (but still not as bad as his boyfriend’s) instead of crying of embarrassment, Furihata found himself giggling together with his loving boyfriend.

[sarnai-borlaaq-blog]

Back to her roots

Quietly the steel blue huntress moves beneath the morning sky. In the air lingers the early promise of autumn. Its bitter chill kisses the atmosphere, and brings a sense of urgency to the dark woman. In her arms, cradled to those ample bosoms, a small infant is resting. Alabaster eyelids drawn shut over piercing pale lavender seas. Sometimes when Sar’nai glances down at the Seeker babe she can see her daughter’s eyes moving behind the thin lids. She dare not to wake the slumbering Hotaru from her dreams. With autumn approaching it means that winter isn’t that far behind. Seasons in the Steppe are rather extreme, but so is everything else in the Azim. This place, her home, is not one for outsiders who cannot bear the rapidly changing and unforgiving climates. Sar’nai was bred, born, and raised in these vast open lands. Having just returned to the Steppe only months ago she has nothing much in the means of lasting through the winter. It would have been challenging, but doable, to survive alone but the Dusk Mother had other plans for the huntress. Now with a baby in her care she knows she doesn’t have the means to do this alone.

It takes a lot for Sar’nai Borlaaq to swallow her pride, and she is indeed a very prideful woman. Providing for her tribe had been the highlight of her life. So for her to admit that she cannot provide adequately enough for the babe, and herself, is a difficult pill to swallow. Dread lingers on the back of her mind, and hangs over her like a heavy cloud while the pair stalks to their destination. At their backs Ligdan happily pulls a wagon with all of Sar’s belongings, and her disassembled yurt. The only time the ivory chocobo complains is when Hotaru is out of his sight for too long. Since he had helped his rider save the Seeker infant he has been smitten with her. Never straying too far from the baby, and always her faithful protector.

For a moment Sar stops when those vivid azure seas settle on the yurts in front of her. Lightly she rocks the infant. Hotaru whimpers while stirring from her slumber. Eyelids flutter open, and thick black lashes part to reveal those lilac irises. Ebon tipped ears swivel backward as she summons a louder whine. “Shhh, Minii Orion Od.” Sar soothingly coos, and turns herself so that Hotaru may see the yurts in the distance. “That is our home. Where my eej lives, and where we will stay.” Craning her neck she kisses the region between Hotaru’s eyes. Giggling the infant squirms, and playfully pushes at her mother’s face. “Time for you to meet your emee.”

Chakha’s face comes to mind, and a bitter taste floods her mouth. Nothing really positive, or loving, comes to mind when she thinks about her eej. Her mother is a fierce warrior, and knows very little about tenderness. She is a battle hardened woman. So much so that the tribe even gave her the title of Warmane. A title of respect, and maybe even fear. Sar remembers how poorly they had left things between them when Sar’nai was shipped off to Kugane those many years ago. Soft lips press together in a thin line. Contempt burns through her like a disease, but her daughter’s cooing quells her soul. Hotaru is worth facing off against Chakha.

Pressing forward the closer they draw to the settlement the more eager Sar’nai becomes. How long has it been since she was last with her tribe? Leaving for Eorzea wasn’t of her own design, and every day that she was gone she missed her home terribly. Here is where she belonged. A huntress living off the land with her tribe. Slow steps increase their speed, and soon she is jogging toward the Borlaaq homestead.

Steps halt quickly when she is among the hamlet of yurts. Deeply breathing she takes in all the fragrances, and scents, that drift through the morning’s air. Dinner lays on the smoking racks. Its perfume of cooking meats tickle her sense of smell. Radiant cobalt eyes watch the women busy by her. All occupied with some task or another. Among the population of tribal women there are new faces, but she notices several older ones. Familiars. Baya stands by some young Xaela girls. Weathered eyes drift to her for a second, and she looks away, but does a double take. “Sar’nai?” The tribe’s healer breathes out in a tone of awe. Quickly she runs over to the traveling pair. “It’s been so long!” Emerald eyes, so bright with wisdom, study the huntress. “You’ve grown into quite the woman.”

Steel blue cheeks feel a flicker of heat rushing through them, and the flesh begins to darken its hue. “I have.” Sar murmurs almost bashfully. “The years have been kind to you as well Baya!” Her gaze roams over the older woman of smaller stature. Baya has several scars littering her face, and neck. She wears heavy robes that hide her arms and lithe figure beneath their fabric. What has happened in her absence?

“You flatter me.” Glancing down the healer finally realizes the huntress is carrying an infant. Miqo’te are a rare sight out this deep in the Azim Steppe. Baya’s eyebrows raise curiously, but she cannot stop her heart from melting at the sight of Hotaru. How big the babe’s black tipped ears are, and how surprisingly long the child’s bushy ivory tail is. Blonde leopard spots adorn the fluffy appendage. “Who is the lucky man?”

“No one. It’s a long story, and I am sure that Chakha will want to hear it with you.” As much as Sar wants to be the blood mother of Hotaru she isn’t, and she wouldn’t start the babe’s life on a lie. While they are not blood related the huntress will raise the Seeker infant as one of her own. “Where is she anyway?”

“Off at some type of warrior meeting.” Baya grumbles and waves her right hand dismissively. Obviously not caring much about what the fighters of the tribe do. She knows it’ll just eventually end up with Sar’s mother needing to be healed, and her being the one having to patch up the warrior. Wrapping her arm around Sar’s she gradually guides the huntress and babe to Chakha’s yurt. Sliding the door open she allows Sar’nai to enter first. “I’ll go fetch her. Make yourself comfortable.” With that Baya is gone. Leaving Sar’nai to her own devices.

Drifting over to a plump cushion she lowers herself down onto its fabric. Lazily those radiant blue eyes roam over the warrior’s yurt. Not much has changed in Sar’s absence. Her mother has added a few more weapons to her collection. No doubt her trophies of her many victories. ‘I’m the fighter. You just fill the bellies of our tribe.’ Those words have plagued her mind since the night Sar’nai gave Maral her freedom from the Goro. Sar and Chakha have different views on fighting. Well on life in general.

Through the doorway a tall, and rather fit, Xaela emerges. Those liquid amber eyes have not lost their harsh edge or how they just smolder with the raw aggression that her mother consists of. Ashen hair is cut short, and done up in its usual style. Gray war paint decorates the skin around the warrior’s piercing gaze. For a moment Chakha stands motionless. Just staring her daughter down. “Took you long enough.” No hello...no ‘hey how are you. I’m sorry for shoving you off to Eorzea! Glad you’re home!’ Just a snide comment on the time it took to get back her.

Sar’s mouth tastes sour immediately, and she wonders how she even came from this woman. “There were things in Eorzea that I had to take care of.” Carefully the huntress adjusts Hotaru in her arms. The little precious babe had fallen back asleep during their wait on the warrior.

Golden eyes narrow at the Seeker infant, and her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Is that the thing you had to take care of in the Western lands?” Venom drips from each syllable that she spits out past dark azure lips. Stalking across the room the warrior mother plops down onto a cushion close to her daughter. Despite her hatred for her daughter laying with someone not of Xaela origin she quietly hides the fact that Hotaru is breaking down her walls.

“She isn’t a thing!” Sar’nai nearly shouts, but when her daughter stirs in her arms the huntress lowers her tone of voice. “Her name is Hotaru Borlaaq. A month ago I was traveling to Kugane to get some supplies. My journey took me aboard this passenger boat. There was this Miqo’te couple aboard. I don’t know why they were so upset, but when I looked over they had put Hotaru in a burlap sack and threw her overboard.” Pausing for a moment the huntress looks down at her daughter. “I didn’t think twice. I jumped right in after her.”

“Her parents probably thought drowning her was the best fate for her.” Chakha scoffs. “Look at her. She’s a runt. Not even the normal size of her kind for her age. I can’t blame them for feeling like that….”

“They’re cruel! That is what they are.” Sar’nai growls under her breath. “How could a parent intentionally kill their child?” In her veins blood boils. Coals of anger are stoked into raging fires, and it burns all of her being.

“They were doing her a favor.” Chakha sneers. “She is weak, and would probably drag them both down with her. Killing her was an act of mercy.” All the disappointment and contempt starts to fade. The warrior’s facial features growing soft...almost tender in a way. Amber eyes settle on the babe that is protectively cradled against her daughter’s chest. “I take it you intend to keep her….” It isn’t a question, but an acknowledgement.

Weakly nodding Sar’nai replies in a murmur,” I do, eej. She’s my daughter now. I don’t care if the blood that flows through her isn’t from my own. The Dusk Mother put me on that ship for a reason. To save her. To be the parent that they could never be.” Feeling warmth against her side makes the huntress look up to notice her mother has scooted over, and is now leaning against her. She wants to press Hotaru more against her breasts, and hide her from Chakha but she knows that would enrage the warrior woman.

If cuddling caught her surprised her Sar’nai is not prepared for what happens next. Chakha’s slender fingers lightly comb through the ivory hair of the Seeker infant. Pushing strands of white from the sleeping babe’s innocent face. “You both will stay here then. I can’t have you out there attempting to raise a runt by yourself. Small children are very difficult to rear. They need more food. More attention. Sometimes they become ill for lengthy periods of time. All children are full time jobs, but runts are the hardest. Tis why most parents give them back to the gods before they had a chance to savor life.” Chakha’s voice whispers out. In between her thumb and index finger she takes hold of a black tipped ear. Drawing little invisible circles on the back of the aud with her thumb. “I won’t go easy on her just ‘cause she’s a runt.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Sar’nai muses.

[kenysholar1990]

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[dearlazerbunny]

A House of a Thousand Rooms; Ch. 1

Chapter One: Anniversaries 

Summary: Kate Baucchard is under the impression that her family is normal- until they’re thrown into a magic realm with a mystery by way of a long-lost friend. 

When I wake, rain drizzling on the window, I am almost happy. I’m at home, in my four poster bed, curled up on a mattress that doesn’t stink of mildew and covered in blankets not made of the scratchiest wool. A silk nightgown slides against my skin. Stuffed animals stand as protectors at the foot of my bed. I can hide from the world in my beautiful little room, without a care in the world.

Then, I open my eyes.

The ceiling greets me, as it always does, brown and ugly and days away from falling on our heads. There is no four poster bed, nor silk nightgown or plush toys. The mattress does smell like mildew, and the blankets rub my skin raw any chance they get. As I sit up, the metal cot creaks and moans, threatening to dump me on the floor at a moment’s notice. The orphanage is hardly home. But for now, it is all we have.

I fold the blankets up neatly and place them on the end of my cot, then try to straighten my clothes into something presentable. They’re wrinkled beyond repair, as we sleep in them as well, and the gray cotton does nothing for comfort. You’d think after a year I’d be used to them, but they still itch in the most uncomfortable of places.

Ella is still fast asleep on her cot, buried in on herself in a mound of blankets she’s managed to nick form the supply closet- we’re usually only allowed one. Two in the wintertime, if we’re lucky and there’s enough supplies to go around. Haley is fussing in her crib though, so I go to pick her up and put her on my hip, bouncing her gently. She knows me, so she relaxes a little, grabbing onto my shirt with little fists. She’s hungry, but I have nothing to give her, not until breakfast. And even then it will be the usual slop and goop, as the boys are so fond of saying.

Today especially, I wonder how we got here.

Rain smacks against the window, a harsh staccato to the memories racing through my brain. One year since grandfather died; a little before that, mother, when she birthed Haley. One year ago we lost everything: our family, our house, and I think even bits of ourselves were buried along with the two of them. I know personally two pieces of my heart sit in the city cemetery, six feet under in coffins of wood and ivory.

The breakfast bell rings, dissonant against the thunder outside. Ella stirs, though not by choice. Usually I have to rip the blankets off of her to get her up, but today she sits up on her own, rubbing her eyes. “Breakfast,” I say unnecessarily, but I never know what to say on mornings like these. That things will get better? That it isn’t as bad as it seems? Neither are true, and I’d probably get laughed at for attempting niceties. There isn’t much of a point here. So I stay silent, listening to the rain and the lightning and the other children thundering down the stairs to the communal kitchen as they do every day. We’re such a large family we get our own table, which is one small blessing. I’m not allowed to stay with the boys overnight, and boys and girls are often separated during the day, so mealtimes are the only place I can check up on them. As Ella and I sit, I wait anxiously for them, fidgeting with Haley’s hair and trying to smooth it into something decent. Since mother has been gone, I’ve taken up the mantle, though my siblings don’t always like it. But it’s not like they’re going to get any warmth from Ms. Carnes, the orphanage matron. She’s a fat woman with double chins that cares only about the welfare checks she gets for each child, rather than the children themselves. I shudder to think of what Henry and Louis would do to her if she, god forbid, tried to mother them.

The two come through the door first, side by side per usual. At seven and five, they are built-in partners in crime, and rarely seen apart. John follows sleepily, yawning twice before he even sits down in his spot. Wordlessly, I pass him Haley, who has already started reaching for him. She has an affinity for John that none of us can explain, but John doesn’t seem to mind. I think she’s a comfort to him most days. With Ella grumpily sitting on my right, everyone is accounted for, but I quickly take a mental count anyways. It’s a habit I doubt I’ll ever break.

“How is everyone?” I go around the table and touch each lightly on the shoulder, more reassurance for me than for them that everyone is here. John nods to me, preoccupied with Haley, and Louis reaches up for a hug, which I happily accept.

“We saw a mouse!” He says proudly, and Henry confirms, holding out his hands in the approximate size or a doormouse.

“It was grey, and carrying a bit of something in its mouth. We didn’t get close enough to see what it was.”

Lord knows what they would have done with it if they’d managed to catch it. Probably snuck in and put it in Ella’s pillowcase. John probably would have been able to stop them, though. Probably. “Well, I’m glad you boys had some excitement,” I say, ruffling both their hair, which they hate. Henry sticks out his tongue at me, and I stick mine out back, making him giggle.

When breakfast is served, we all fall silent, trying to choke down as much of the runny oatmeal as possible. Per usual, the younger ones get fed up with it quickly, and report to smacking it around with their spoons. As long as it stays inside their bowls, I won’t stop them. The last time they decided to make oatmeal-balls and throw them at each other, well. The punishment was for all of us, and not something I care to repeat.

“Kate?” I drop my spoon back into my bowl, trying not to look to disgusted with it, and turn my attention to Louis.

“What is it, love?”

“When is grandfather coming to get us?”

Everyone at the table seems to freeze, while the rest of the room continues their chatter and clinking of silverware. He asks this at least once a week, and John has told me when he prays at night it’s for grandfather or mother to come and bring us back home. I sigh. He was only just four when they died, so I don’t  blame him for not understanding. But I do hate breaking his heart over and over every time he asks.

Henry pats Louis’ shoulder a bit sadly. But before I can respond, Ella lets out an annoyed huff and practically slams her spoon down onto the table. “He’s dead! He’s not coming back, and neither is mom, and we’re stuck here, so just get that through your head and shut up about it!”

“Ella,” I scold, and the look she gives me could set my hair on fire. Louis begins to cry, though he’s learned enough to know to cry quietly. Silent tears run down his cheeks. Henry gives him an awkward hug, as only a child can, and Louis rests his head on his chest. John closes his eyes, pensive. “Louis, remember how we talked about this? How when people die, it means they’ve gone to heaven?”

“But can’t he come and visit us?”

“No, sweetie.” It stops my heart when his little face falls. “He can’t.”

“But why?” He’s full on sobbing now, and I go to him, wrapping him in my arms. “I don’t like it here! I want to go home!”

“Shh,” I hold him, trying to quiet him. “It’s going to be okay, Louis. We’re all together, that’s what’s important.”

Ella gives me a scathing noise of disgust and pushes back away from the table so harshly everyone’s dishes rattle. She disappears back up the stairs to our minuscule room. I’d go after her, but she’d just as likely scream at me. By now we have the attention of the entire dining room, and if the kids are watching, Ms. Carnes isn’t far behind. Probably with punishment for causing a disturbance. So I wipe his eyes as best I can and kiss the top of his head, woefully aware that any comfort I can try to give is hugely inadequate. I’ll never be enough for them, not really. How can I be? How can I replace an entire family? And with half of us constantly separated from the others, we barely feel like a family ourselves.

“Baucchard!” Ms. Carnes’ shrill voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, startling everyone in their seats and making the other kids quickly return to whatever they were doing in order to avoid attention. I stand, trying not to wince. She doesn’t react well to shows of weakness.

“Ma’am?” I ask wearily. I stand in front of Louis, trying to block him from her view as he pulls himself together. He doesn’t need any more admonishment today.

“My office, if you please.” Her words are polite; her tone is anything but. She’s been trying to turn me out on the streets ever since I turned eighteen, but I refuse to leave my siblings without me. Simultaneously, I don’t know what I would do without them.

I eye John, and he nods at me, letting me know he’ll keep an eye on things as I’m gone. So I go, winding my way through the throngs of children who stare at me fearfully, wondering what horror is in store for me today. I’m not exactly a stranger to Ms. Carnes’ office, and neither are any of my siblings.

She shuts the door behind me, then waddles over to her desk, sitting down heavily behind it. Shuffling through papers, she gives each one a cursory glance then shoves them to the side, all as I stand just inside the door, waiting. It’s a few minutes before she addresses me, and even then she never looks up at me as she speaks.

“So, Kate. Still loitering around I see.”

My patience is already wearing thin today, but I try to keep my face and voice neutral. “I’ve told you, ma’am. Where my siblings are, I am. I won’t leave them.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t seem impressed. “Well, I’ve gotten notification from the police. They’ve finished inspecting your grandfather’s house.”

“I… wasn’t aware there was to be an inspection.”

“Well there was,” she snaps. “And now it’s done. So you may go back to collect your things.”

Go back home? Oh, even to see it again for just a minute- “We’ve been requesting to get some of our things for several months now.”

“They couldn’t have you children mucking about the place,” she sneers. “Not as the police were collecting evidence.”

“Evidence of what? The authorities told us he died of a heart attack.”

“Evidence! They always investigate when someone dies, end of story.” She rolls her neck, like she’s trying to keep herself in check. “And now, they’re done. So you may return for an hour, no more, and pack one case each. That is all.”

I nod. The news is good, even if it’s not delivered ideally. “When do we leave?”

She stands abruptly, and takes a coat off the hook nearby. “Now. Collect your family.”

“Yes- yes ma’am.” I leave quickly, before she can change her mind, and rush back into the common area. Everyone has already dispersed, so I race up the stairs to our room, where Emma is sulking on the bed. “Emma, get up. We’ve got permission to visit home.”

She turns to me. “What do you mean, visit?”

“To pack some things.” I smile at her. “Come on, won’t it be nice to go home? Even just for a little while?”

She shakes her head. “What happens to it when we leave?”

I haven’t thought of that. “I’m not sure,” I confess. “But please, try to cooperate. If not for me, for the boys’ sake.”

She does love her brothers. She nods, and goes to tie on her shoes. I backtrack to the other end of the house and knock on the boys’ door, and John answers. “Kate? What’s wrong?”

“No, John, it’s good news. We’re being allowed to go home, just for a little bit. To get some things.” He nods, slowly. “So get Henry, and Louis please, we’re leaving as soon as we’re ready.”

I meet them all outside, slightly shivering in the cold, loading into Ms. Carnes’ small car. Louis sits on my lap, and Haley on John’s; the only way we’ll all fit. As we start down the road, I’m suddenly a little more nervous. Will seeing the house be good? Or will it just make everyone more emotional? How will I be able to explain to Louis that yes, we can visit once, but never again?

Perhaps I should have gone alone, or just with John. But I wouldn’t want to rob them of their last chance to see remnants of their old lives. I bounce Louis on my knee, getting his attention. “So, Louis, do you understand? What we’re going to do?” He nods, and I look at Henry. “Henry?” Another nod. “Okay. Good. We have an hour, and we each may take one case. Please try to bring practical things.” I see the two boys glance at each other, as if secretly communicating to bring only old candy pillaged from the pantry. I sigh and look out the window. One last look at the house. One last glimpse of our old life before it’s gone forever.