#... you have no idea how bad I want to have a sip of the lava

[newtafterdark]

Is it hot in here or is it just me~? 😈🔥

It took me a bit, but I finally finished the funny little pause screen for my Twitch channel!

[chicanomick]

If you love them, let them go (and if you love yourself don't look back)

I feel bad for not interacting and I know I got a couple asks building dust in my ask box and tag games that are getting old so take this short little fic as an apology!

Read on ao3

Ian and Mickey decided to expand their business outside of Chicago. Well, Ian thought it was a good idea and spent two whole months practically begging Mickey to 'just think it over'. In the end they settled on expanding towards Juliet but not past LaSalle. Maybe if all went well they could also send a group out to Aurora.

It took less convincing for Ian to agree to a week long vacation because, technically, it isn't a vacation. They're going to meet some potential clients and scope out possible buildings to rent out or buy and turn into offices. If they just so happen to visit a bar at the end of the day or go take a stroll around a park hand in hand between clients, big fucking deal, they're the bosses and they can do whatever they want.

So they go to a bar and grill at 6pm after meeting with their last potential client. It's nothing fancy, but defiantly better than the local bars and restaurants they frequent back home.

Mickey gets to wear the skull print button up Carl got him for Christmas two years ago, with a Johnny cash tee peeking out from under the unbuttoned shirt, and his good black skinny jeans. Ian wears a simple green polo with some ripped jeans and matching jeans jacket.

"Looking good Gallagher," Ian turns around to find his husband looking at him through the mirror. Mickey is touching up his hair and smirking at him. Ian blushes, no matter how many years they've been married, Mickey's compliments and attention still have him preening like a teenager. To hide his sudden bashfulness Ian rolls his eyes and slaps Mickey's ass on his way out of the bathroom. "Hurry up or I'm leaving without you."

Ian is only halfway through the motel's parking lot when Mickey is joining their hands together. The distance is short enough that they could have walked comfortably but after a long day of business they like to have the luxury of driving to their destination. Enjoy the perks of being car owners for the first time in their entire lives.

The Bar and Grill is more of a new and upcoming sports bar than anything. There is hardly any waiting time but the bar is filled with 20 year olds yelling at the TVs eating wings and drinking from the tap.

They settle in a familiar routine as soon as the waitress leaves them with their menus. Ian reaches for Mickey's hand and listens to him complain about the prices. "I could make this at home, and for cheap!"

Ian laughs and skims the menu for anything vaguely familiar, "As if. We don't even have a grill." Mickey shrugs and flips the laminated page over.

"Are we ready to order or do you need more time?" The waitress comes over with two glasses of water and pulls out her note pad.

"I think we need more time." Ian answers, knowing his husband won't.

"Alright, reminder that we have a special for unlimited tap if you get two orders or more of wings and we added molten lava cake to our dessert menu."

She nods in response to Ian's 'thank you' and leaves them to their menus. Ian is briefly distracted by the sound of a large group of women entering the building but his attention is back on his husband when he feels Mickey's hold on his hand tighten.

"What do you think of the bacon burger?"

"I think the doctor told you to cut back on fried goods."

"Oh yeah? Then why did you bring me to some wanna be pub? Not very caring husband of you Gallagher."

Ian hums, "How about a salad."

"You shut your mouth."

Ian laughs and feels his cheeks redden at the sight of Mickey's smile.

Mickey orders a bacon burger and Ian gets an Italian Beef.

They sip on their beers and comment on the clearly college students screaming at the screens. They make fun of the professional wrestlers and scoff at the old man wearing a cubs jersey to a building decorated with white sox flags.

When their food reaches the table and Ian switches his beers for a soft drink and they eat in silence. It's a comfortable silence. A silence they achieved after years spent attached at the hip.

When there is nothing new to share but their company. Something Ian will never grow tired of. Simply eating and openly sneaking glances at his beautiful husband across the table while their feet touch under the table.

It's only when he is pretending to not be looking at Mickey when he finally gets caught starring that he allows himself to glance over at the group of women that came in earlier.

They sit at a booth in the corner of the room, behind Mickey. They're unapologetically loud and drinking from the pitcher at the center of the table. Ian rakes his eyes through each one, doing a double taken when he sees a familiar face.

Squeezed between two brunets sits a blond with heavy dark lashes and downward almond shaped eyes. She looks away from the woman currently speaking, as if sensing someone staring at her and looks straight at Ian.

A piece of his soggy Italian deef gets caught in his throat, quickly he averts his eyes and reaches for his sprite in hopes to stop the cough threatening to escape.

Mickey frowns and reaches across the table for his unoccupied hand, "Whoa there, red. All good?"

Ian shakes his head and risks a glance back towards the table. He sees her, Mandy, put down her lipstick stained cup and lean over to say something to the brunet beside her, looking straight at Ian.

"Mick, I think I just saw Mandy." Ian sees Mickey's facial features morph from concern to straight up shock. The brunette leans back, looking visibly winded but also disbelieving before his gaze turns distant. He's looking at Ian without seeing him.

Behind Mickey, Mandy stands up and begins to make her way towards them but stops a couple steps away from her own table. Hesitant.

She scrunches her nose in question as her gaze wanders from his, no doubt, spooked face to the back of Mickey's head, definitely not recognizing her brother.

Ian doesn't blame her. He returns his gaze towards Mickey and really takes him in. His hand still holding his, nice clothing without a scratch or stain in sight. Washed hair carefully combed back. A single earring in his right ear and a silver watch, not stolen or gifted but bought, on his wrist. A ring on his left hand.

"Are you sure?" Mickey asks, "What's she doing? How's she look? Did she see you?"

Ian looks back towards Mandy and smiles. Of course Mickey would ask how she's doing.

Mandy seems to take the smile as a yes to whatever unspoken question she had asked with a squint in her eyes and a crunch of her nose. They were always like that, Ian and Mandy, able to communicate a hundred things without saying a single word.

Ian wondered, as Mandy made her way towards them, if he looked as changed as she did.

Her hair cut just under her chin, curled and blond. Diamond earrings with a matching delicate necklace. Maniculed hands pulling down the hem of her white dress where it had ridden up when she stood up, shoulders back, head held high, looking taller and more confident. Healthier. Happier.

"She's coming over."

Mickey sits up and his grip on Ian's hand gets impossibly tighter. "What the fuck do you mean she's-"

"Well, well, well, as I live and breathe. If it ain't the infamous Ian C. Gallagher."

Ian smiles and stands up. Taking the remaining three steps to reach her he pulls her in for a hug. "In the flesh!" Despite the skin tight dress he can't feel her ribs. He smiles impossibly wider.

"In the flesh and out of the south side! What are you doing here?" Mandy steps back but doesn't spare a glance at the table where her brother is chugging his beer, looking anywhere but at them.

"Out on a business trip you could say. Decided to treat the husband to a meal." Ian smiles down at her and lifts his left hand, feeling like every cliche engaged white woman in ever romcom ever.

Mandy's eyes practically fall out of her head as she takes his hand in hers and spins his ring on his finger carefully, taking in every detail. "I don't know whether to be jealous, angry, or absolutely over the moon."

Ian laughs and lets her examine the ring a while longer as he looks over to Mickey only to find him already staring at them, spinning his own ring around his finger with his thumb, empty bottle held so tight in his other hand that it could break.

"Mandy," Ian starts as Mickey's eyes grow wider and he slowly shakes his head, "I'd like you to meet the love of my life."

Mandy finally looks up, smiling wide, and turns around to face the table.

Everything seems to freeze the moment the two Milkovich sibling's eyes meet. Ian feels Mandy's hand grow clammy with cold sweat while he watches Mickey's grip on the bottle finally begins to loosen.

Mandy moves first, her heels loud against the fake wood floors as she marches her way towards her brother, tackling him in a hug. Mickey would have fallen over if he didn't think fast enough to place one foot flat on the floor. His arms immediately wrap around his little sister causing her to let out a wet laugh that sounded more like an air of surprise leaving her lips.

"Geez Mands, you went and grew up on me." Mickey pulls back and holds her face in his hands. Hair puffing up under his hands as he runs his eyes over her face. The lack of piercing and heavy makeup around her eyes to hide eye bags and bruises. The absence of her bangs making her once rounded face change into something sharper, more grown.

"Speak for yourself asshole. Out and around Mr. Gallagher, huh?" Mandy's eyes flickered wildly, taking in every detail of her brother's face because, here he sat, after so many years. Not a single scar on his face, smelling of cologne and wearing clothes so out go his style. But maybe it is his style. Maybe he's finally found himself like she has. No longer afraid of to explore who they are and who they’re allowed to be.

And then mickey laughs. And that's it, isn't it? After all these years, this is Mickey Milkovich. Shiny new and changed, but not different.

"Shut the fuck up." Mickey pushes her back long enough to stand before pulling her into a hug. Mandy could count the amount of times she hugged her brother on one hand. All four hugs, one hand. And now Mickey has hugged her twice in the past 30 seconds.

Ian sits back down while Mickey finally releases his best friend. For a while they all just sit in their silence, staring at each other, until the waiter stops by and hands the couple their check.

"You can pay at the front when you're ready, will you need any boxes?" They shake their head no and the waiter smiles before rushing off to the next table.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mickey breaks the silence just as Mandy asks, "When was the wedding?" and Ian says, "How have you been?"

They laugh and Ian takes a sip of Mickey's beer as his husband stands up.

"Imma go pay, you two catch up." And if Mickey picks up the check and heads for the bathroom instead of the front desk Ian doesn't pay it any mind. Knows from experience Mickey needs some time alone to collect himself.

Mandy smooths the back of her dress down as she sits in Mickey's empty chair, "So, when was the wedding?"

For a moment Ian is back in high school watching as his best friend sits in front of him at lunch, talking about some cheerleader with grass stains on her back and complaining about her asshole brothers. One of which Ian got married to.

"Four years ago."

"Oh wow, and no invite?"

It was said jokingly but the way Mandy didn't look up and instead chose to poke around Mickey's left over fries told Ian she was hurt.

"Well, we would have loved to have you be there with us. But with everything being so last minute, and Terry, and not knowing where you were or what you were doing. Not an excuse but we just thought..." Ian didn't continue because honestly? He felt bad that he didn't mention her to Mickey when they were writing the invitation cards.

He thought of her, obviously, when Lip declared himself Ian's best man. He thought of her as he watched Sandy walk Mickey down the aisle. He thought about her when they celebrated their first anniversary, when they sold their Gallagher home, when they celebrated their second, third, and fourth wedding anniversary. But he never spoke about her. He never reached for his phone or asked about her. He put her in his past. He lived through some of his greatest moment and achievements and the thought of her was secondary, passing. And he felt like shit for it.

"Wait, you guys got married in Chicago? With Terry around?" Mandy watches Ian shrug his shoulders.

"Yeah, Mickey almost murdered Terry after he set the venue on fire. But we just couldn't wait, you know? And we weren't going to let him come between us. Not again."

Mandy knows what Ian's talking about. He prepares himself for what he knows she's going to ask next.

Just rip off the bandaid.

"How's Svetlana and Yev?"

Ian knows the Mandy's look of shock is because of his lack of reaction at the mention of their names. No sadness or resentment to be detected.

"To be honest? I don't fucking know. She divorced Mickey after he got himself locked up for attempt. And then she shacked up with Kev and Vee for a while before she was out the door, Yev in one arm and luggage in the other, to marry some grandpa."

Mandy's eyes are so wide her eyelashes tickle her eyebrows, causing Ian to laugh. "I mean, I hope they're doing good. She's probably widowed and loaded, already working on her next scam but uhm," Ian scratches at his eyebrow, an act he definetly picked up from Mickey, "I hope we don't hear from them soon, y'know?"

Mandy nods, "I get it," she looks over towards the mens room and catches sight of Mickey walking out and towards the front desk. "I better get going. Out with the girls, can't keep them waiting. God knows they'll want to gossip about you."

Looking behind Mandy's shoulder Ian hums in agreement as three brunettes flush red at being caught staring and turn around in their seats. "Here, let me give you my number and we can catch up some time."

Mandy smiles and nods, reaching into the top of her dress and pulling out her phone. Ian raises and brow and smirks at her, "Real classy."

Mandy smirks back and she looks 16 again. She looks beautiful. "What can I say, some things never change."

After exchanging their numbers Ian glances over to the entrance where he finds Mickey already waiting for him. "Want me to give you Mickey's number too?"

Mandy shakes her head and pockets her phone back into her bra, "Nah, but I will steal a hug."

Before he fully opens his arms, Mandy walks right past him and towards the entrance. Still standing by the table Ian takes out his wallet to leave a tip, watching the two siblings talk. He sees smiles and frowns and is enamor by the way Mickey's eyebrows move as he speaks before he leans into a hug. A long deep hug where Mickey is hiding his face in Mandy's hair and Mandy has to stand on her toes, one healed foot lifted in the air, arms tightly wrapped around her brothers neck.

Walking towards them Ian is able to hear the ends of a conversation. "-doesn't mean I love you any less."

Instead of responding Mickey looks up at Ian and nods at Mandy. Mandy turns around and Ian's surprised to see a couple tears running down her face. She softly punches his shoulder and brings him in for a hug, "Don't forget to text me, asshole."

Ian hugs her back just as tight and for old time's sake even spins her around a bit. He doesn't care if they're causing a scene.

Putting her back down Ian lets their forehead touch as he takes in the smell of her perfume and hairspray, the sounds of her giggles, and the color of her eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Taking a step back Mandy looks at the couple. The happily married couple, and she can't hold back the laugh that bubbles out of her as Ian rests his arm around Mickey's shoulder while Mickey tucks his hand into Ian's back pocket.

Seeing her brother openly partake in PDA such an odd thing to bear witness of. Mandy definitely has some catching up to do.

Waving at them she turns around and walks back to her table, feeling lightheaded. Her cheeks no doubt red from how hot her face felt. Wild grin framed by ruffled hair and messed up makeup. But she was free and she was happy.

Ian and Mickey walk out and towards their car, smiling and content with the silence and each others company.

[ticklishfiend]

Strawberry Milk (My Hero Academia)

Ship : Lee!Bakugou Ler!Kirishima (Kiribaku)

A/N : this took forever to make and it's the longest fic i've posted on this account so far, but i just had a lot of fun making it!! i hope you guys enjoy it, especially the lovely krbk anon who inspired this. they actually sent a few prompts that have inspired other krbk tickle fic ideas that i'll more than likely write for soon as well, but for now i hope you enjoy this!! much love <33

Summary : Kirishima stays for a sleepover at Bakugou’s childhood home, and after accidentally pissing off the explosive teen, seeks out some professional help from someone who may know the boy best: his father. From this, Kirishima learns a quick way from the boys childhood to get him forgiveness in no time.

Word Count : 5113 (jfc lmao)

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!! MWAH <33

. . .

“Are you seriously mad at me over this?” Kirishima asked with a confused, breathy chuckle. He watched as his best friend pouted with arms crossed over his chest like a child, glaring daggers into the redhead from his spot on the bed.

“Yes. And I do not plan on changing that. So don’t fucking try me, Spiky Hair” Bakugou turned his body fully away from Kirishima now, who was lounged rather comfortably on Bakugou’s orange beanbag seated on the ground. Kirishima rolled his eyes at Bakugou’s childishness, though still couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty.

After months of practically having to beg the explosive teen for a sleepover at his childhood home, the blonde finally relented and allowed Kirishima to be a guest in his home for the weekend. Bakugou’s parents were actually pretty happy to have Bakugou back at the house, even if for such a short period of time, and were even more thrilled when they realized someone actually wanted to come with him. Bakugou was never really one for making (and keeping) close friends growing up, so this was something they were definitely excited over the prospects of.

He and Bakugou had been playing video games for the past couple of hours now, their most recent game that Bakugou was now practically fuming over being...Minecraft. Bakugou had gotten pretty attached to a wolf he unsurprisingly named “Prince Homicide,” but after bringing it to a cave while mining with Kirishima, the red-head had accidentally pushed it into a vat of lava, killing it almost instantly.

So that’s where the pair were now. Bakugou seething from his spot criss-crossed on the bed, now turned away from Kirishima with his arms crossed like a child towards the wall. Kirishima sighed, pushing himself off the beanbag and walking towards Bakugou’s door.

“Look, I’m gonna go get something to drink. You want anything?” Kirishima raised his eyebrows in hopes of a response.

“Die,” was all he got.

Kirishima bit back another chuckle, opening the door before turning his head back around to look at Bakugou, who was now fiddling with his sheets and grumbling to himself angrily. “Alright, well, I’ll be back in just a minute. Hopefully you’ll have calmed yourself down enough by then.”

“I AM CALM YOU RED-HAIRED LOSER!” Bakugou yelled at the door as Kirishima quickly walked out and shut the door to avoid the small blasts he could hear shooting from the boy’s palms. Kirishima just shook his head with a grin, making his way down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

When he arrived, he saw Bakugou’s father cooking dinner on the stove. It made Kirishima smile, reminding him of his own home a little, though he hadn’t been back home in a while. He did miss his moms quite a lot since moving to the dorms, and he’ll definitely have to invite Bakugou over to meet them sometime soon.

He could smell the amazing spices his father had been adding to whatever meat and noodles he had in the pot, the scent almost burning Kirishima’s nose from how spicy he could tell it was. ‘Obviously loving spiciness must run in the family,’ Kirishima thought as he opened up the fridge, alerting the father’s attention.

“Oh, Kirishima! Are you looking for anything specific?” the man asked, looking up from his steaming pot for a moment to smile at his son’s best friend. Kirishima shot a cheerful smile right back at him.

“Oh, just some water would be fine!” he nodded, grabbing a water bottle from one of the fridge drawers, before remembering the seething boy upstairs waiting for his return. He grinned. “Actually, what does Bakugou normally drink here? At the dorms he usually has protein shakes but you probably don’t have those just lying around,” Kirishima chuckled, sitting his water bottle down on the kitchen island to look at his friend’s father.

“Well, the boy doesn’t usually like to admit it but he’s quite keen on strawberry milk,” he smiled with a nod as he went back to stirring his pot, glancing over towards Kirishima with a grin.

“Shoot, really? Didn’t peg him for the strawberry milk type of guy,” Kirishima giggled, looking back in the fridge and noticing the few bottles of strawberry milk they had lying on the shelf, probably bought when they found out Bakugou was coming home for the weekend. “He’s kinda mad at me right now so I figured I’d make a peace offering.”

“Not a bad idea, kid. I’ve had to do my fair share of those over the years. Katsuki’s always been the rather...angry type,” Masaru’s eyebrows furrowed downward towards his pot, shaking his head as if thinking of all the times the boy must’ve lost his temper at his old man.

“What did you used to do when he was little? Y’know, whenever he got all...aah!” Kirishima accentuated his little growl imitating Bakugou by shaking his hands angrily in front of him, just like how Bakugou usually does when he’s about to blow someone to kingdom come. This made Masaru laugh, shaking his head and adding a few more spices to the pot.

“Well...as of now, I usually just let his mother handle everything. But when he was little, Mitsuki and I would usually just tickle the little guy ‘til he giggled all that anger out,” Masaru smiled at the fond memories, glancing over towards Kirishima who held a wide-eyed, shocked but excited expression on his face. Masaru chuckled, pointing his spoon towards the teen. “But you did not hear this from me, understand?”

“Oh, totally, I got your back 100% Mr. Bakugou,” Kirishima saluted the man with a grin, making him laugh once more with a fond shake of the head. Kirishima lowered his hand, finally grabbing the strawberry milk from the fridge and sitting it on the counter with his water, promptly shutting the fridge door. “So...that didn’t make him angry or anything? He wouldn’t, like, explode you and Mrs. Bakugou to ashes or something?”

“Well I’m still here to tell the story, aren’t I?” Masaru gestured to his body with his spoon, Kirishima nodding with a chuckle. “Nah, he used to love it when we did that! Sometimes I think he’d pretend to be angry on purpose just so we’d play ‘Claw’ with him.”

“Claw? What’s Claw?” Kirishima asked, now leaning on the counter with his head propped up on his hand, listening intently as if this was the single most interesting thing he’d ever heard (because in all honesty? It very well might’ve been).

“Oh boy, Claw was his favorite. I would always hold his hands down so he couldn’t get away, while his mother would make a claw hand and tickle it into his stomach and ribs. It always had little Katsuki in stitches,” Masaru was very obviously enjoying remembering these fond memories of his son, seeming like he had almost completely forgotten about these fun little moments until Kirishima had brought them all back to light. “We always did it when he was being bratty, but not bratty enough to deserve a time-out. Sometimes, though, he wouldn’t even have to do anything bad, he’d just come out and ask for Claw when he felt playful. It was always so cute,” Masaru grinned widely, looking over towards Kirishima and promptly pointing his spoon back at the boy. “And, again you didn’t hear any of this from me, but…”

He paused, almost debating whether or not this was a good idea. He was finally swayed on his decision, however, when he saw the bright look of excitement in Kirishima’s eyes at the prospect of an actually happy Bakugou. He couldn’t help but cave.

“...but if you wanna really get him laughing, his worst spots are the spot riiiiight under his armpits, and the sides of his thighs. You get him there and he’ll be forgiving you in no time.”

Kirishima nodded with a large, toothy grin, swiping the drinks off the counter and practically bouncing in his spot as he backed his way out of the kitchen. “Thank you so much, Mr. Bakugou. It was truly an honor to know you, but I’ve got a death sentence waiting for me upstairs.”

“You get him, kiddo!” Masaru shouted towards the teen as he scurried his way out of the kitchen and towards the stairs giddily.

Kirishima was practically cheesing when he made his way towards Bakugou’s childhood bedroom, and had to mentally and physically calm himself down before entering so as not to alert Bakugou of his devious scheme.

He pushed the door open, finding Bakugou to now be leaning with his back against the wall, arm propped up on his knee as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. He scowled upon hearing Kirishima’s entrance, not even bothering to look up towards the boy as he grumbled, “Damn, I was hoping you were gonna stay down there all night.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes, tossing the milk onto the bed beside the blonde and hopping onto it himself. Bakugou’s eyes widened at the sudden movement beside him, eyes darting down to the drink on his bed before scowling back up at Kirishima. “How the fuck did you know I like this shit, I never drink it at school.”

Kirishima grinned, opening up his own water bottle. “Oh, just a little birdy,” he giggled, taking a sip of his water and watching as Bakugou begrudgingly took his own drink and started opening it as well.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you, moron. These are just...really good,” Bakugou wasn’t looking at Kirishima, obviously still angry as he went back to staring at his phone instead of paying the redhead any mind.

“C’mon, man, I didn’t mean to! It wasn’t on purpose!” Kirishima practically pleaded next to him, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder which was immediately shrugged off rather aggressively. “Look, I’m sorry. Would it make you feel better if I helped you find a new wolf?”

“Are you kidding me?! I’m not playing this shitty game with you anymore, you fucking suck at it!” Bakugou had a scowl on his face that looked like what he was saying was the single most obvious thing in the whole world. Kirishima just sighed, closing up his water and throwing it down on the bed.

“I’d hate to make you, Bakugou, but you may just force my hand,” Kirishima shook his head slowly as if in disappointment, only making Bakugou’s brows cross in confusion.

“The fuck do you mean ‘make me,’ you idiot?! You can’t force me to do shit, and I’m not fucking playing this game with you,” Bakugou pushed, and to anyone else it definitely wouldn’t sounded like he meant it. But Kirishima knew Bakugou far, far too well. He could hear the competition in his voice, see the spark of want in his eyes that just said ‘please fight me on this.’ He wanted a challenge. Kirishima could see that. And boy was he gonna give it to him.

“Oh, but can’t I?” Kirishima’s voice sounded almost taunting, and once he saw that Bakugou was looking at him with competitiveness painted all over his face, he brought both of his hands up to wiggle fingers menacingly towards the boy.

Bakugou instantly knew what he meant. And if the fact he immediately closed his drink and sat it on his nightstand was no indication that he wanted this to continue, the way he backed up on his bed cautiously with wide eyes instead of immediately fighting Kirishima back most definitely was.

He was excited.

“Kirishima, don’t you fucking dare,” Bakugou pressed through a lie, his eyes never once looking away from those still wiggling fingers taunting him in the air, as if too embarrassed to look Kirishima in the eyes and completely give it away that he wanted this, he wanted the fight. He didn’t have to look for Kirishima to know, though. The redhead was still able to see Bakugou’s face even if Bakugou wouldn’t look at him, and he could see the giddiness behind his wall of caution, which only pushed him to continue.

“Then let’s play the game, Bakugou,” Kirishima grinned as Bakugou gave him no response, only backing further away until finally Kirishima pounced, tackling and fighting Bakugou to the bed. This was the least Bakugou had ever put up a fight with him. Kirishima knew how Bakugou fought, he knew just how skilled and precise his moves always were, and he was giving Kirishima practically none of that. Though he did technically fight his way down, he was still inevitably completely tackled and pinned by the redhead, which almost never happened in their regular spars and play fights.

Kirishima forced Bakugou’s arms up above his head, the hardening hero-in-training using his quirk to keep the boy’s hands pinned there for good. His body hovered over Bakugou’s, a rather compromising position if they were to be walked into, but neither boy cared about that in the moment. They were too focused on the excitement and unadulterated giddiness bubbling in the pit of their bellies, and as Kirishima gazed down at Bakugou with a look of mischief in his eyes, Bakugou knew he knew. Kirishima knew Bakugou wanted this, and now the blonde was aware of that. Bakugou couldn’t quite tell if that made this better or worse.

“Fine then. We can play a different game. How about…” Kirishima paused, mocking as if in hard thought as Bakugou’s lips twitched, his eyes wide in a skittish anticipation. Kirishima finally let out a small pretend gasp, looking down at Bakugou before raising up his free hand in a claw shape. “...Claw.”

Bakugou’s eyes could not have been any wider. His cheeks were stained pink, and he squirmed under Kirishima’s pin, “No, nonono don’t you dare fucking touch me you red piece of shit, I swear to god I’ll fucking-HNG!” Bakugou choked on his words, eyes slamming shut as he felt five meticulous fingers skittered over his now bare tummy, as Kirishima must have pushed up his shirt while Bakugou was too busy threatening. Those nails were fucking torturous against his skin, his nerves lighting up and sparking with a specific feeling he hadn’t felt in what had to be years now. It was so bad, so so bad, but...god, he didn’t realize just how much he had missed this feeling until now.

“Uh oh,” Kirishima’s voice held a teasing tone that made Bakugou shake his head, still trying desperately to hold back any and all giggles that threatened to crawl from his gut. Kirishima chuckled darkly. “Looks like someone’s a little ticklish, huh?”

Bakugou only continued to shake his head from side to side, tugging at his pinned arms with no real fervor behind it. Kirishima couldn’t help the smile on his face seeing the boy like this, so flustered and obviously having a good time at something so cute. He could tell Bakugou was desperately trying to contain his giggles, which was definitely his average pride slipping through, but there was no way Kirishima was just going to let that slide.

With a smirk evil enough to send shivers down the blonde’s spine, Kirishima finally dug in, vibrating all five of his fingers into the boy’s taut abdomen. Bakugou howled, arching his back and kicking wildly behind Kirishima as loud giggles and squeals escaped his ever-excited being.

“NAHAHAHA! KIRISHIMAHAHAHA!” Bakugou screamed, those fingers never relenting in their claw-shaped torment on his belly. “SHIHIHIT AHAHAHA!”

“Damn, Bakugou, you’re really ticklish,” Kirishima chuckled, massaging his fingers into the boy’s muscles, causing his to spasm like he’d been shocked, screaming and kicking and cursing all the while.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU AHAHAHA!” Bakugou guffawed, twisting and turning his body every which way as if he was trying to escape the mirthful torment Kirishima was putting him through. Suddenly, all at once, the tickling stopped, and Bakugou let in a gasp of air he didn’t even realize he needed. He opened his eyes and glared at Kirishima hovering above him, the redhead daunting a sinister grin that made Bakugou’s tummy do summersaults.

“What did you just say to me?” Kirishima questioned menacingly, bringing his free hand up to now hold Bakugou’s wrists in both hands, quickly bringing them both down under his knees with no fight from the blonde, who seemed to be frozen in...fear? Excitement? Either way, his eyes were blown wide, his chest heaving slightly from the attack and small titters still threatening to escape. But Bakugou was never one to back away from a challenge, no matter his condition. He couldn’t help the small twitch at the corners of his lips as he looked up to Kirishima in competition.

“I said: Fuck. You,” Bakugou spat out, and Kirishima could feel his body tense under him after he spoke the fierce words, almost like he was bracing himself for the inevitable. Kirishima shook his head with a grin, raising both his hands up in the air to once again wiggle tauntingly towards his victim.

“Oh, you are so gonna regret that,” Kirishima chuckled, lowering his hands down slowly towards the boy’s quivering belly. His stomach sucked in as if trying to evade the wiggly fingers, Bakugou’s eyes large and never looking away from those claws hovering over his sensitive torso.

Finally, his fingers touched down, skittering over the boy’s lower tummy and making his breath hitch, pursing his lips tightly and slamming his eyes shut at the teasing sensations. Kirishima’s fingers wandered and scribbled all over the boy’s torso, and for a few seconds Bakugou was able to keep his reactions at bay. That is, until Kirishima skittered on a spot right at the base of Bakugou’s ribs, causing the boy to jolt with a small yelp. Kirishima couldn’t contain his chuckle at the reaction.

“Ohoho, there it is,” Kirishima drawled, pinching at the spot that made Bakugou squirm. Bakugou growled, almost like he was trying to keep any cute little giggles to himself, but those incessant pinches just wouldn’t let up, and in seconds time he was a giggling mess under Kirishima’s touch.

“Nohoho! Fuhuhuck shihihit!- AHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!” Bakugou practically screamed when he felt Kirishima vibrate his index and middle finger into that spot at his lower ribs right where it meets his back. He arched his spine up, kicking fruitlessly behind Kirishima’s body and cackling like a child all the while. “YOHOHOU BAHAHASTARD! YOHOHOU FUHUHUCKING SHIHIHIT!”

“Well that’s really no way to talk to your best friend, now is it?” Kirishima tsked, clawing at Bakugou’s ribs and eliciting more screeches and cackles from the sensitive teen. “You’re so much more ticklish than I thought you’d be, I am loving this.”

“STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING THAHAHAT!” Bakugou shook his head back and forth, clenching his fists hard under Kirishima’s knees as if trying to keep himself from exploding the both of them both to ashes.

“What? That you’re ticklish?” Kirishima tilted his head with a smirk, pinching up and down the boy’s ribs rapidly, making his laughs soar up in pitch. “Cause, I mean, you are. You’re like, super duper ticklish! But it’s fine cause it’s totally cute,” Kirishima said the last bit without really meaning to, blushing slightly at his blunt statement, but deciding against ending the ticklish torment over it.

“NAHAHAHA! I’M NOHOHOT CUHUHUTE!” Bakugou denied through his cackles, continuing to shake his head in playful anguish. “FUHUHUCK OHOHOHFF!”

“Hmm...I don’t think I will. In fact, there’s a few more tickle spots I wanna try out, so you’re just gonna have to keep a-giggling for me, Bakubro,” Kirishima chuckled, taking his hands off the boy for a moment to give him a breather. Small breathy giggles and titters continued to spill from Bakugou’s lips during his rest, his head leaning back against the pillow in almost exhaustion. Kirishima leaned forward, placing both of his hands beside the boy’s head, leaving his face to hover over the boy’s own blushed one. Bakugou’s eyes widened a bit at the invasion of personal space, but never made an effort to push him off. Kirishima tilted his head like a curious puppy, “You’re okay, right? You don’t like, totally hate this? Cause I can stop if you really want me to.”

Bakugou’s cheeks were splattered pink, his eyes averting their gaze from the boy on top of him. He squirmed a tad under Kirishima’s straddle, shoulders hunching up slightly in embarrassment. “I mean...it’s not...the worst thing in the world…” Bakugou grumbled into his shoulder, eyes still refusing to meet the red-head’s own.

Kirishima grinned down at Bakugou, using one hand to gently cup Bakugou’s chin and turn his head to face his own. “I knew you didn’t hate it. I just wanted you to say it out loud,” he giggled at the blonde’s flustered and shocked expression, before quickly shooting his hands down to squeeze at Bakugou’s ribs with extreme ticklish precision. Bakugou shouted a cackle at the sudden change, his head shaking from side to side and eyes scrunching closed once more.

“OHOHO YOHOHU MOTHERFUHUHUCKER!” Bakugou guffawed, clawing at the sheets under Kirishima’s knees. Kirishima just giggled, working both of his middle fingers in between the tight spot where Bakugou’s arms were clamped against his ribs, digging into the spot just below his underarms that Masaru had told him about.

Bakugou shrieked, kicking harder than before as wave after wave of loud, unfiltered squeals and cackles left his chest.

“SHIHIHIHIT! FUHUHUCK OH MY GAHAHAD! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE! NAHAHAT THAHAHAT SPOHOHOT YOU FUHUHUCK!” He screamed through his laughter, opening an eye to glare at Kirishima through his mirthful tears. Kirishima sported the biggest, shark-toothed grin he could probably muster, and it sent fluttering butterflies throughout the inside of Bakugou’s entire torso.

“Aww, is this spot bad, buddy? This spot tickle?~” Kirishima cooed, his fingers never relenting as they wiggled and dug into that one torutrous little spot that had Bakugou howling.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHU! YEHEHES! IT T-AHAHA! IT FUHUHUCKING TI-HEHEHE!” Bakugou couldn’t even get the flustering word out through all of his cackles and squeals, which amused Kirishima to no end.

“God how are you so adorable like this,” Kirishima sighed, finally bringing his fingers back down to teasingly scribble and wiggle all over Bakugou’s bare tummy. Bakugou dissolved into a puddle of high-pitched, breathy giggles, that had Kirishima fawning over him in seconds. “You’re so giggly, and I didn’t even know you could giggle before this!”

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Bakugou practically whined through his giggles, his cheeks so pink and warm Kirishima could just melt in the cuteness of his flustered face.

“Oooh, I wonder if your belly button is ticklish too,” Kirishima eyed the little navel that bounced through Bakugou’s laughter, one of his fingers travelling over to circle around the button teasingly.

“NO! Nohoho, dohohon’t! Plehehease!” Bakugou pleaded, though Kirishima knew it was all just a front.

“Wow, I’ve got THE Katsuki Bakugou begging right now? Who knew I’d ever see the day!” Kirishima chuckled, worming a teasing nail into the navel and causing Bakugou to shriek and jerk underneath him. “Aww, it’s like a little giggle button!”

“Dohohon’t sahahay that stuhupid shihit!” Bakugou tittered, goosebumps forming all over his tummy from the feather-light way Kirishima scribbled over the skin.

“Alright, oneeee more place I wanna try, then we get back to Minecraft. Deal?” Kirishima moved his fingers to scribble slowly up and down the boy’s sides to let him respond, delighted at the way the movement made him squirm.

“Fihihine, whatehehever,” Bakugou braced himself for the final attack, gasping when he felt Kirishima’s hands leave his sides and rest on the top of his thighs. “Shit, shihit, shit, wahahait-!”

“Oh, this is a good spot, isn’t it?~” Kirishima teased, squeezing the muscle once to see Bakugou jerk and shriek under him. “Yup. Looks like a good one to me.”

“Ohoho plehehease, I cahahan’t, it’s so bahahad-” Bakugou whined, squirming and giggling despite Kirishima’s tickling on his thighs to even start yet.

“You’re a super ticklish guy, Bakugou, but you’re also super tough and manly. I know you can take it!” Kirishima hyped him up with a smile, just making Bakugou groan and roll his eyes with a snicker. “C’mon! Tell me you can take it!”

Bakugou huffed, gazing over at Kirishima’s face that plastered that stupid goofy grin of his. God why does he have to be so cute, Bakugou thought as he sighed with another eye roll.

“Fine, whatever, I can take it, just...fuckin get it over with already, you’re killing me heRE-HRGN! FFFAHAHAHAHA OH SHIHIHIT!” Bakugou keened, cackling and thrashing himself from side to side as both of Kirishima’s hands massaged into his upper thighs. The sensation was torturous, beyond torturous, his nerves were on fire and his muscles were pulsing under those terrible wiggling fingers, but if he could choose it, he’d feel like this forever if it were by the hands of that stupid fucking redhead.

“Damn, this must tickle bad , huh? You’re losing your mind!” Kirishima giggled, squeezing at those sensitive muscles like his life depended on it.

“FUHUHUCK! YEHEHES IT’S SO BAHAHAD! KIRIHIMAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEASE!” Bakugou pleaded and begged, tiny droplets of mirth finally pooling at the corners of his eyes despite his best wishes. Kirishima could tell the blonde was finally reaching his limits, and slowed his fingers down until he was just resting his hands on top of the boy’s thighs comfortingly, rubbing up and down the sides to soothe the still giggling boy.

Kirishima smiled down at Bakugou who was still coming down from his giggle high, titters that could light up a whole room spilling from his lips and making Kirishima’s heart swell. “You alive, man?”

Bakugou coughed out his last giggle, still breathing heavy before giving Kirishima a lazy nod. Kirishima giggled, gently climbing off the boy and laying down beside him on the bed. Bakugou brought his hands up to rub at his still flushed face, and Kirishima couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. The red-head was grinning ear-to-ear, and he could tell that under the palms of those calloused hands covering Bakugou’s face, the blonde was too.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Bakugou brought his hands down, turning his head to face Kirishima with a small smile still visible, only on the corners of his lips. “You almost killed me, you bastard.”

“Sorry, you were...you were just really cute like that. I’ve never seen you giggle before,” Kirishima chuckled sheepishly, eyeing Bakugou’s nearly forgotten drink still sitting on the nightstand. He pointed over to it, Bakugou’s following the direction of his finger. “You should probably get a drink, you were laughing pretty hard there.”

Bakugou huffed, his cheeks flushing only slightly at the comment, but he still rolled over to grab the drink and turn back around to face the redhead. “Shut up, I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know...too ticklish for your own good, huh?” Kirishima snickered, Bakugou punching his shoulder playfully while taking a sip of his milk. Kirishima rubbed the spot Bakugou punched with a grin. “I’m being serious, though. You really did look cute like that.”

Bakugou’s eyes refused to meet Kirishima’s. His hands cupped tightly around the bottle in his lap, thumbs fiddling with the plastic wrapper encasing it. Kirishima could see how flustered he looked despite their eyes not meeting and he almost felt a little guilty. But Bakugou finally glanced up towards Kirishima, and for the first time ever, the blonde looked...shy. “Do you really think that or are you trying to fuck with me right now? Cause it’s not very nice to fucking flirt with someone if you don’t mean it.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened a little at his bluntness to call it what it was; flirting. “Well, y-yeah. Yeah I meant it. For real,” Kirishima said, but he could tell Bakugou wasn’t sure if he meant it. Kirishima furrowed his brows, cupping Bakugou’s chin gently like he had while attacking the boy just minutes ago, turning his head so their eyes would meet. He stared intently at him, making sure his expression was as genuine as a person could be. “I’m serious, Bakugou. I...I think you’re really attractive,” Kirishima saw how Bakugou’s eyes moved, how he felt frozen under his touch but still somehow looked like he wanted to squirm. “You’re cute and super manly, which I didn’t even know could be a real combination until I met you. You’re...you’re my favorite person, Bakugou.”

They sat like that for a moment. Kirishima brought his hand back down to rest in his own lap, but their eyes never left each other. That was, until, Bakugou’s eyes drifted downward towards Kirishima’s lips. Kirishima’s heart faltered for a minute at the gaze, feeling hair standing up at the back of his neck. Bakugou’s eyes darted back up to Kirishima, a tilt forward in his head that asked Kirishima ‘is this okay?’ Kirishima just nodded with half-lidded eyes, before Bakugou slowly leaned forward, his own eyes closing as their faces finally met in the middle when Kirishima pushed his own head forward.

Their lips brushed shyly against one another, as if cautious and unsure if this was an okay thing to do, before Kirishima pushed into it, forcing their lips together. Bakugou brought a hand up to cup at Kirishima’s cheek, Kirishima doing the same to Bakugou. Bakugou felt like he was going to melt, or explode, or disintegrate or...or just keep kissing Kirishima until he couldn’t breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled apart, breathless and hazy. Kirishima opened his eyes first, and when Bakugou opened his and looked at Kirishima with those shy little eyes he didn’t have before, Kirishima couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giggles. His laugh was always too contagious, damnit, and before he knew it Bakugou was giggling along with him and he didn’t even know why.

When he finally caught his breath, Kirishima slumped back against the pillows of Bakugou’s bed, Bakugou following him to lay there and stare questioningly. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just...you tasted like strawberry milk.”

Bakugou paused for a moment, before chuckling, shoving at Kirishima playfully as they both snickered. “You’re a fucking dork.”

“Hm, maybe,” Kirishima giggled as he brought his face back closer towards Bakugou’s, meeting their lips once again in a soft kiss that lasted forever.

Kirishima would definitely have to thank Mr. Bakugou later for that helpful information about his son, because now their night tasted like strawberry milk and giggles, and Kirishima didn’t want anything else in the entire world than just that.

. . .

A/N : hope you guys enjoyed that, sorry its so fucking long LMAOO i got very carried away. it took me a while to write and ive got a fucking headache so imma go lay down now, MUCH LOVE!! <33

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times. 

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable? 

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try.  Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--

[jarofstyles]

You Again II

A/N: Here’s part 2! We are open to adding more parts to this but this is where it is at for now. As always, send requests and feedback here :)

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: age gap, smut, daddy kink, spitting kink, rough sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 5.4k

The pub seemed like a good idea at first. To eat some food and get to know each other some more, but the last thing Y/N was thinking of was food. He should’ve let her win, should have just waited till the end of the night to kiss her because he really just fucked it for the both of them. 

She was sitting there, sipping on her wine and eating the appetizers they had ordered for them to share, chatting away but it was clear Y/N couldn’t focus. The amount of times he had caught her just staring at his lips was embarrassing, she wished she could stop. It was been months since Y/N had sex. Probably ages since she’d had good sex. She was never unsatisfied though, felt like she had gotten enough. Something about the way he kissed her and touched her and looked at her made her feel hot. He could tell she was distracted. He wasn’t sure why but he caught her staring directly at him and was curious why she had gotten so squirmy for-- until he asked. 

“Bunny?” He had taken to calling her that, “Are you okay? You seem so distracted.” He murmured, rubbing over her hand. She snapped out of it and looked at him with wide eyes. “Do you not like the place? Or do you not feel well?” He hoped neither was the case but he was curious what was making her zone out the way she was. He had to ask her questions twice or call her name.

“Sorry,” Y/N mumbled, realizing she had zoned out enough for him to start noticing. He asked her what was up. What was she supposed to say? ‘You kissed me and now I’m horny and can’t have a focused conversation’? She was all embarrassed, her cheeks flushing at his concern. “No, no, it’s not that at all,” Y/N explained, looking at him and feeling her heart beating faster. Her pupils were certainly dilated beyond belief. “It’s lovely, I like it here... I’m feeling okay, I just..” She needed to just spit it out. “It’s going to sound really juvenile.” Y/N didn’t know how he was going to react but she couldn’t lie. “I just really want to kiss you again.” Her cheeks got all red, licking over her lips as she squirmed in her seat a bit. Y/N couldn’t focus on the food, she just wanted to swallow him whole. She’d never been like this before. It’s been ages since she’s kissed anyone, but to get this worked up? It was crazy.

But Harry could tell she was horny. 

He could see it now with how she tripped over her words, how she squirmed-- she was pressing her thighs together. She wanted kisses. And who would Harry be if he denied her of kisses? He had gotten her to eat at least something.  

“Okay. Did you want to leave?” He asked softly, “We can kiss some more but... I don’t think you want to kiss with all these people around.” At least not yet. No, she needed somewhere where he could lick deeper into her mouth and kiss her properly. She let out this sound, this whine, it had his cock reacting to it. Christ. He threw a $50 on the table, standing up steadily while she scrambled a bit. There was an eagerness to her hand grabbing his arm and attaching herself to his side. “Let’s go then.”

They were there probably less than 45 minutes. 

Y/N should have been ashamed of herself and she was a bit. “Sorry, you didn’t get to have that lava cake you were talking about..” Y/N murmured, “but I have those brownies I was telling you about?” She at least wanted to offer something, “and wine.” She was all squirmy even in the seat of the car, her heart rate picking up again. Her body never had a reaction like that to a kiss before. What on earth was happening? Was this what it was meant to feel like? A genuine attraction? Cause she was starting to believe she’d never been attracted to anyone before him.

“S’okay, bunny.” He laughed quietly at her mention of the lava cake. “Think that some kisses are a far better alternative. Much sweeter.” He patted her thigh gently. Yes, they were. He was excited to get her truly alone so he could kiss on her and give her what she was wanting. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in his life. He had found everything she did incredibly beautiful, even just the way she flipped her hair. It was overwhelming. He was obsessed with her. She didn’t know how beautiful she was. 

Once they arrived at her apartment building, Y/N led him through the lobby and into the elevator with quickness in her step. She was eager and that was clear even when she fumbled with her keys, letting him inside and locked the door behind her. She was so incredibly needy, but she needed to chill out a bit. Y/N didn’t want him thinking she was always like this, especially when the date had started off so strongly. 

“Again, make yourself comfortable.” Y/N smiled, “I’ll get some wine and some brownies.” She giggled and made her way over to her kitchen to get everything sorted for them. It was rather nice to have him in her home, she felt safe here like she could let loose. She brought over the brownies and the wine, the lighting in the room was on its dim setting seeing as it was past 7 pm. They were on a timer just because she had a bad habit of falling asleep and forgetting to turn them off.

“Y/N?” He murmured to her when she walked towards him. She looked confused but tilted her head as if to ask him what. “Put those down.” He pointed to them, watching her perk up a little as he sat on her couch. “Come here.” He motioned for her to come to him. Obviously it was a bit of a shock with how gentle he had been all night and considerate but she had him horny now, had him wanting more kissing. “Sit.” He didn’t give her a chance to think before pulling her body down on to his, a gasp of air leaving her as he steadied her. “Fuck the brownies. You wanted my mouth, didn’t you? S’why you were staring the whole time.” He had hold of her chin so he was in control for the time being.

Y/N was like a fish out of water. Her eyes were wide, mouth opening and closing, but she was at a loss for words. This was new for her, this feeling. It was like an adrenaline rush. The tone of his voice was forceful yet gentle, she didn’t feel like he was being pushy or anything just... dominant. Her body shuddered, goosebumps covering her skin as she swallowed thickly, eyes searching his. 

“Wanted to at least offer, didn’t want to be pushy..” She murmured, clearly not understanding fully where this demeanor was coming from. It was safe to say Y/N didn’t know much about sex besides the vanilla stuff. Sex, oral sex, basic kinks, but nothing like this. To her, it was completely new and unheard of.

“You’re so cute.” He chuckled, noticing that Y/N obviously wasn’t used to this type of thing. “Got so much to teach you, little bunny. So much to show you.” He licked over his lips as he moved his hand up and cupped the side of her neck. “S’okay to be pushy for something you’d like when it’s wanted just as bad by the other person.” He could feel her pulse in her neck where his thumb rested. “But for now, let’s just kiss a little bit.” He knew that if she wanted to push it further than that he would have to tell her he was a little kinky and liked to be called daddy. Tell her that he liked to go hard. He knew that could slip. “Come on.” He murmured, pressing his lips back to hers and leaned back into the couch. It was all it took to have her melting into his body, arms going back around his shoulders.

Her heart was definitely beating very fast from just how bold he was being. Not only was he courting her, but he was also taking control? It had her heart going. He did say she had a lot to learn, but what could she possibly be missing? She let out a little hum when their lips connected, feeling those butterflies return. Y/N definitely was enjoying how smooth he was, how easy it was for him to control the pace of the kiss. She also liked his hands, she found them to be warm and strong and that was getting her brain going to mush as well. His mouth was like paradise, she kept making these little sounds she didn’t even know she could make. 

Harry decided to take things into his own hands when he received enough positive reactions. He picked her up in his lap and shifted her himself. He wanted her a certain place, pressed up against him the most she could be. Harry was needy for her attention and he could be man enough to admit it. His hand ran over her back, moving her hair out of her face when it came back up. Their kisses were deep and he could taste her all through his mouth. She was just as eager and as needy, even more so. He was controlled, keeping her at back and teasing slightly when he pulled back from kisses to lick at her lip. Her breathing was definitely heavier, a squeak coming from her lips as he picked her up and shifted her on his lap. She was mad at herself for wearing jeans, feeling the fabric stretch. She would much rather be wearing much less clothing, would rather see him in less clothing. He always wore these long sleeves, she wanted to see some skin. 

“Your mouth tastes so sweet.” He murmured, leaning in closer. “Stick out your tongue for me?” The first of many tricks, he licked his right over it before gently sucking it into his mouth. It was hot, obviously never done before in this way to her. He held her face with one hand and suckled at it before he released it. He was experimenting, seeing what she truly liked.

Though she whined at his teasing, she was still a very good listener. Y/N let out a breathy whine, her hand tightening on the hair at the nape of his neck to let him know she liked it. She rolled her body up against his, feeling so much better about having left that goddamn pub early. This was so much better. Y/N was on a high, but her body felt that need for touch, a craving. It wasn’t enough. The licking into his mouth was only doing so much, but she liked letting him do as he pleased. He ran his hands down her body and stopped at her ass. The whine she let out against his mouth signaled to him that she definitely liked his hands on her, so he moved to grab her ass. Two handfuls, squeezing. So good, she reacted immediately with a moan against his mouth, Harry using his strength to roll her hips against his cock. He wanted some relief too, and this felt so good. 

“Fuck me.” He muttered against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful. Fuck.” He held at her ass, bringing one up to smack it. She let out a yelp and looked at him alarmed, Harry simply chuckling and rubbing the sing through the jeans. “S’a perfect ass. Are you going to let me see it?”

The grinding over his cock was normal, but the smack over her ass? No one had ever done that before. More importantly, why did she like it so much? Y/N let out a strained whine, backing her ass up against the hand that was moving it over and pecked after his lips. 

“You want to?” She whispered as she pulled back, pupils blown. Y/N was clearly excited, pulling away from him so that she could stand up and strip out of her jeans. She knew she got prepared for a reason. Thank god. However, she had some plain and classy set on. She didn’t really own any sexy underwear. “This too?” Y/N asked curiously, holding her little white button up at the buttons waiting for him to direct her. She could see that he was hard in his pants, that definitely turned her on even more. She didn’t think she’d be able to hold back.

“Yeah- off. Want all of it off. Let me see what’s mine.” Harry already considered her his. He didn’t really care if it was soon but he knew that there was no way she was going to be let go this easily when he was so fond of her already. When she did remove her clothes, he let out an audible groan. Moving closer and kissing over her bare stomach, standing up to kiss over her chest. Harry tugged and placed her hands at his belt, “Take care of this.” He requested, continuing his kissing over her chest. “Perfect tits too. How did I get the whole package, hm? How did I get so lucky?” His hands ran over her body as he felt her throw his belt to the floor and his pants unbuttoned. He stepped out of them; simply grabbing her hips and picking her up so she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Which way?” He demanded an answer. “Want to lay you out for me so I can touch.”

“End of the hall.” Y/N breathed out, knowing that this was really going to be it. She was positive that he had a lot more to show her than she realized. Their little make-out on the couch was way more involved than any other one she’d had before. Her cunt was practically throbbing for him. Thank god for her big bed too. They’d have plenty of room to do whatever the fuck they wanted, and by the look on Harry’s face they’d be in for a very wild ride.

Harry had her on the bed easily, stripping his shirt off and over his head as soon as he could. He almost felt predator-like, stalking up on the bed and between her legs so he could hover over her, kissing from the top of her panties, making his way over to her mouth again. He was taking risks here and he didn’t care. His hand cupped over her pussy, feeling the slickness through the panties. The heel of his hand rubbed against her clit, making her buck into his hand. God, Harry missed making a woman cum-- however, Y/N would be a brand new and better experience. 

“Feels good on your cunt, yeah? Were you sitting in that booth across from me with your pussy all messy like this?”

“Yes.” She squeaked, her body was reacting rather well to his touches. She was hungry for his mouth, her hand going up to cup his cheek as they kissed but slowly moved to the back of his head. His words surprised her, a whine leaving her lips. Y/N was so eager to touch. Her leg hooked around his, bringing him closer without speaking. It was something that she just never really did in bed. Yeah, moans and whatnot, but... she was often quiet in bed and asked for what she wanted without using her words. Harry was hot. Maybe the 12 extra years have done him well in the world of sex. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing and the two of them seemed to be starved of intimacy. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He cooed. “Gonna need you to ask daddy what you want.” He liked that she shuddered from his words and that she seemed to genuinely be in awe of his touching. She wanted it so bad but had never been with a man like Harry before. “Because I can make you feel so good. I can spend all night making you cum and shake all over this bed. I want to hear you say ‘Please, Daddy, fuck my dirty little cunt.” He smirked wolfishly. Yes, he was pushing her to her limits but she needed it. She was being pushed for the right reasons. “Because as soon as you do, these panties are off and I’ll properly make you cum. You’re about to cum from this but, I can stop.” He paused just movement and looked at her desperate face.

She was a squirmy mess beneath him and he was definitely wanting to push her boundaries. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, she definitely did, her eyes darkened whenever he had brought up something new and exciting she had never done before. It was clear that she was a bit shy and nervous, blushing deeply when he asked her to tell him what she wanted. 

He wanted her to say those 7 words. 

Y/N whimpered when he pulled his hand away from her, her mouth opening to speak but she was too nervous to see it. It really wasn’t like her, but she knew that it would make him happy if she did. She was just very conflicted. Being adventurous in bed was new for her, even if it seemed so simple for him, she really hoped he understood that especially by the look on her face. Her body was aching for him to touch, but he wasn’t giving it to her and she was growing increasingly frustrated. It took her a few moments, some encouragement, but she had finally said the words. 

“Please, Daddy... I want you to, fuck my dirty little cunt.” The words felt so foreign.

“There’s my girl.” He cooed, taking the panties off in one fell swoop. She had done what was asked of her so she would be rewarded. One finger was slid inside of her cunt. Hot, wet walls clenched tightly around him as he began to thrust it into her. “Fuck me... you’re so tight.” He breathed against her cheek. He didn’t know how long he could last not being inside of her. All he wanted was to slide in and give Y/N every bit of his cock. “So messy too. Hit the gold mine of cunt, haven’t I baby?” He murmured, adding another finger before fucking it faster into her pussy. He wanted one orgasm before he did so and it wouldn’t be difficult based off of her squirming. “Want to hear you. Don’t hide what you feel, baby. Tell me about how wet you are. Moan. I want to hear it. Makes me so happy.” He curled his fingers, her hand going to his wrist. He pulled it away, placing it on her clit. “Rub yourself.”

The way his fingers so easily slipped into her just said it all. A loud moan escaped her at the feeling of his fingers hitting places she was never able to reach on her own. How could she ever go back to normal after this? She needed him for this now, no one else would do. Having him right in her ear didn’t help either, she was shuddering and whining and moaning left and right but she couldn’t bring herself to speak still. It would take some working at, she definitely needed to be pushed a bit and he was doing a good job at that. He said it made him happy to know, she wanted to make him happy. 

“F-feels good...” She breathed, “Want more, please.” 

“There you go, baby.” He purred, thrusting his fingers harder into her as he spoke to her. “That’s what I want to see. So wet for me, you see this?” He had her watch as he pulled his fingers out for a moment and how wet and drippy they were before he thrust them back in. “Cum for me so I can fuck you. Come on.” He coaxed, moving up and kissing her deeply, pulling back only to pepper kisses to her chest. His fingers worked steadily and fucked her at a fast pace to work at her. “Cum for daddy, Y/N. M’gonna fill you up and stretch you proper as soon as you do. Rub your little clit, you’re so close. I can feel you.” She was so close.

It was overwhelming-- his praises, his fingers, his kisses, his encouragement. It all sent her into a crash of an orgasm. Her body was shaking, twitching as she continued to kiss him. Moans flowed into his mouth, her breath being caught in her throat from just how good it felt. 

“D-daddy...” She whimpered out, knowing he’d like that. Y/N was trying for him because that was definitely the most incredible orgasm she had ever had. Y/N couldn’t stop kissing him, even when he had pulled his fingers out of her. “I-I never had two...” Y/N wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel full, but she’d never had more than one orgasm in a row. She wasn’t sure if her body even let her do that. Y/N didn’t want to fake it either. He would be understanding she was sure, but she had to warn him anyway.

“Better get used to having a lot with me. So many orgasms, you’re going to be spoiled rotten.” He would treat this woman with the most care and need he ever had with anyone and she would see it. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. It tasted so good, the moment it touched his tongue he was groaning deep in his throat. “So sweet. Gonna have to lick your pretty pussy up soon. But I need to fuck you.” They both needed his cock inside of her. “Trust me. M’gonna get you there.” He laughed softly at her concern but he had made a few women have multiple orgasms in his day. She was especially sensitive too and didn’t know it. He would have fun with her. “S’gonna sting a little. You’re small.” Her cunt was small and his cock was far bigger than his fingers, so he took his time easing himself into her. Panting slightly at just how good it felt, her walls throbbing around him and how she squirmed under him and held on to his forearms tightly. “Shhh, baby. S’good. You’re alright.”

“So big..” She murmured, feeling herself make a mess around him the more and more he spoke into her ear. She was a very big fan of dirty talk. Feeling him slowly slide into her felt even more satisfying. Her breathing was heavy, her whines constant with every time he pushed into her. “Just fuck me, please.” She asked, nuzzling her face into his neck because she really couldn’t wait anymore. Y/N was gagging for it, she was ready to feel him stretch her out and have him have a proper go at her. He responded to her request by thrusting all the way in. Her sounds appealed to him so much, he pulled out and thrust back in again. Slow, hard thrusts. Getting a noise from her and her nails diffing into his back with each hard fuck into her. 

“Yes... love this pussy. So fucking tight.” Was this how all young pussy felt? He swore she was the tightest he had ever had, even at her age. She was incredible. Giving him everything he wanted without even trying. “That’s my girl. Taking my cock in you so well.” There was no protection and that in itself only made him more aroused. He was taking the woman he wanted to be his, bare. “This is what you wanted, hm? Wanted my big cock inside of your little pussy?” He sped up his thrusts so it was at a steady level, and they could hear how wet she was with each thrust. “Can you hear that? How soaked you are around my cock? It feels so good to have your pussy suckin’ in me like that. Trying to milk me hm?”

“Oh—“ 

There wasn’t much else she could really do. Y/N was full of cock, her mouth wide open and back arching slightly up from the bed. She swore she’d never felt that place inside of her before but it felt fucking incredible. Strings of ‘uh’s and ‘ah’s and ‘daddy’s left her mouth, unable to really catch a breath. He was relentless and she was thankful for it, that coil in her stomach was returning. It was sensitive and a tad bit painful, but she was starting to think she liked the pain. After that little spank earlier, Y/N had realized just how much she wanted to feel it again. Especially when he was stretching her out so well. Y/N knew she wouldn’t last long, it had been a while and she was so incredibly worked up. He could whisper a few more words in her ear and she’d be losing her mind all over him.

“C’mon baby. Give me that cum. M’not done with you yet, no... gonna pull you up and fuck you on your knees. Want to watch your ass bounce while I fuck you hard.” He smirked as she looked at him with glassy eyes, already a mess under him. “Give it time me, baby. So close, I can feel it so close for me. Give daddy that cream.” He purred, snapping his hips harder. He wasn’t going too fast. He was saving that. While her mouth was open, Harry grabbed her chin. The other hand kept him up, her breathing chippy. “Tongue.” He ordered Y/N morning and nodded her head before exposing it to him. Leaning closer, he spit thickly on her tongue, grinding his hips into her. “Swallow it. Cum.”

Her eyes practically crossed as she swallowed his spit, feeling incredibly dirty but that was the best part of it. She felt like she could do all of it with him and he wouldn’t judge, he just wanted her to be dirty and take it. That was incredibly attractive to her. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, unable to inform him that she was about to cum. Instead, her orgasm ripped through her with a loud scream, his cock still working into her cashing small squeaks to follow suit. She was very sensitive. Looking up at him, he really didn’t seem like he was done and she knew that she just needed to let her walls down or she wouldn’t last. He flipped her around and pulled her to sit up by the hair, panting as she leaned back to look at him. He slid his cock back inside of her, thrusting up into her much deeper this time.

“Oh my god!” She screamed, “holy— daddy!” Y/N was positive she had passed away.

He had gotten her on her hands and knees. She had cum twice already but he was going for three times. This is when he let loose, knowing she was sensitive and would cum again no doubt. Holding one hand on her hair, the other on her waist. He pounded into her. Hard. The bed shook, Harry groaning in relief. This was the fuck he wanted tonight. He wanted to wreck her for anyone else. Know that she would want him so badly and no one else. 

“Yes, yes... my good girl.” He smacked her ass hard, feeling her clench around him harder. “Like them, hm? Like daddy spanking, your perfect ass.” He rewarded her with another spanking, pulling her up slightly by the hair so she had a bite of pain. He was experimenting and letting loose on her pussy. Fucking it hard. Taking what was his.

Y/N was gripping at the bed sheets for dear life, her whole body buzzing with hormones and dopamine. She felt a rush she had never felt before and it was all because of him. She had never been fucked so hard in her life, but she took it like a champ, feeling her eyes rolling back in pleasure every-time he hit extra deep. She even caught herself throwing it back into him, wanting more and more. She had completely let go, letting him use her in any way that he wanted. Y/N was just following orders, speaking when spoken too, and letting herself ride the waves of pleasure. More whines followed his spankings, a happy sigh leaving her mouth as well. 

“Like it so much.” She told him, whimpering because yet again she was so close. Her pussy was fucked out, dripping wet, but she still wanted one more. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“

“That’s what I want. Want you to take my cock in your filthy little pussy and let daddy take care of you. Gonna cum three times for me, hm?” He smirked, taking his hand to her throat to pull her up properly, back arched and hardy slammed into her hard. “This is my pussy now. Daddy’s perfect cunt. Gonna feel it all day tomorrow and remember who filled you up, who made you cum so many times.” He smirked, nibbling on her ear. “Because it’s mine. Made for my cock only.” He pushed her back down and grabbed her hair again, the sounds of her ass smacking against him and her moans filling the air. “Give it to me. Give me all that dirty shit baby girl. Gonna cum again on my cock? Slick me up more? Then let me cum in you?” He teased. “Yeah... s’exactly what daddy’s pretty girl is gonna do.”

Y/N felt herself tearing up at the pleasure, moaning out in ecstasy as he pulled and grabbed at her. She never knew that being manhandled like this would be so pleasing to her, but it had come to her attention that maybe everything she had come to know about herself should be questioned. Harry has claimed her now and she honestly wasn’t sure if it was just the sex talk or real-life talk, however, she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about this. She would want this all the time, for him to teach her more, she wanted to speak more during sex and all that. 

“I-I’m—“ Just like that, she was orgasming for the third time that evening and she was loving it. Her body just let her keep going and going and if she wasn’t so tired she’d let him keep going. Y/N was a bit loopy now, throat hoarse from all the screaming. It felt good though... fucking incredibly actually. She felt free.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby..” He hissed as he came, burying himself deep and cumming hard. It was the hardest he had ever cum in his life, shaking slightly as he pressed kisses to her back, grinding himself in as he pumped her full. “That’s my girl... so good. Did so well. Love how you feel. My pretty bunny.” He whispered, holding her close to his body as they both went through their orgasms. She was weak and he knew that, Harry moving them so they were spooning. He didn’t want to pull out just yet. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm...” She hummed, taking his hand and bringing it up to her face. Y/N felt her eyes getting droopy, though all she really wanted was a cuddle from Harry and maybe a few more kisses. She pressed soft kisses to his skin, nuzzling into it so she could get comfortable. “Feel good..” She mumbled, already starting to doze off to sleep. “Stay?” 

Y/N wasn’t really used to guys staying after but temporarily forgot that Harry wasn’t just some guy she was hooking up with. He had taken her out on a lovely date... he wanted to spend time with her and the sex was just extra. That’s what made her feel every better in her post-orgasmic state, feeling herself drift off knowing that she had finally gotten Harry. A whole year of wishing and hoping, and here he was.

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A/N: AHHHHHHHH exciting things! hope you enjoyed :) - n + d

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[carolmaximoffs]

in a crowd of strangers and lovers

summary: of course your ex is working the night you get stood up.

pairing: bartender! ex! bucky x reader

warnings: drinking, cursing, smut, a teeny bit of degradation, bartender! bucky, this is entirely self indulgent, use of a condom for the first time in my writing in i think ever oops

a/n: this has been 3/4 of the way done for so long...finally sat down and cranked out the rest of it. short and sweet and maybe not my best but heres nothin.

You swung your legs idly as you glanced once more at your phone. Only the time glared back at you - no missed calls, no explanation texts, not even a Snapchat or a DM. It was 20 minutes past the time you were supposed to meet the man you’d been talking to for the last couple of months, and you sighed. Obviously, he wasn’t coming. You waved a hand to grab a bartender’s attention before closing your eyes and rubbing at your temples in annoyance. An all too familiar voice disrupted your self-pitying thoughts.

“You look like a tequila girl.” The first words Bucky Barnes had ever said to you. Your eyes snapped open, mouth gaping. Of course...how could you have forgotten? This was the very bar, possibly the very stool you’d met Bucky at. Before you could stammer out a reply, he was making himself comfortable against the bar-top and leaning in conspiratorially. “Hot date?”

“Very,” You sniffed, meeting his gaze in spite of your churning gut. In the glow of a neon sign overhead, his blue eyes burned almost violet. Your heart ached when he beamed, those beautiful stupid eyes crinkling at the corners like they always had.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve been here for a while now. Show up early?” Bucky propped his chin up with his metal hand; his flesh fingers drummed idly as he waited for your reply. He’d always been able to see right through you; you weren’t backing down so easily this time. You’d actually been late, but Bucky didn’t need to know that. It was bad enough he’d clearly spotted you as soon as you walked in...you weren’t really sure what to do with that information. You lifted your chin, shrugging and looking around as if your evasive date might suddenly show himself.

“I’ll take that tequila now, please,” You replied simply. Bucky’s eyes twinkled with mirth before he turned his back to you.

“Margarita or a straight up shot?” He threw over his shoulder. Your answer was a moment too late - you wouldn’t admit it, but you’d gotten a little absorbed in the way his white tee shirt stretched over the broad expanse of his back. “Y/N.”

“Huh? Oh...surprise me.” You fought the urge to bury your face in your hands again as he smiled and turned back around. You chanced looking at your phone as inconspicuously as possible. Still nothing. Moments later, thick fingers slid a tall glass towards you, rim salted, accompanied with two neat slices of lime.

“M’lady,” Bucky drawled, dipping his head dramatically. He looked up at you beneath his lashes, cheeks straining to contain his grin. Your own face burned and your heart pounded as you mumbled your thanks. You took more of a long gulp than a sip. Just your luck, it caught in the back of your throat, and you spluttered a bit. Bucky looked like he’d won the lottery.

“Careful, sugar,” He crooned, passing you a napkin. Idly, you wondered if, next, you'd fall off the stool. “You know I love to see you choke, but only-” 

“Barnes!” 

Natasha was standing near the door to the back, arms crossed and brow arched dangerously. Your old friend offered you a tight smile before returning to glaring at her employee. Bucky winked before he sidled off, Nat’s eyes narrowing. You wished the floor would swallow you up right then.

It didn’t, and you were swirling the dregs of your margarita by the time Bucky got back. For whatever reason, you couldn’t compel yourself to leave. Not just yet. You were rewarded, however, when he realized you’d hung around; Barnes’ eyes lit up. He bit back another smile, resuming his nonchalant stance against the bar. 

“What was that all about?” You blurted, before Bucky could say anything about the near-empty glass in front of you. His smirk didn’t waver.

“Just Nat lookin’ out for you, s’all. She got off a few minutes ago, wanted to make sure I didn’t give you too much trouble.” His simper stretched into a blinding flash of teeth. “I’m not givin’ you trouble, am I, babydoll?”

You shake your head dutifully, and you think Bucky’s face might split if he grins any wider. His smile drops into something a little more seductive as he tilts impossibly closer. “Looks like your boy toy’s a no show...Sam can cover if you need a little cheering up.” 

Body and brain exploded into disagreement; lust bubbled like lava in the pit of your stomach at his request, but you knew better. You had to know better by now - you were the one who’d gotten too involved in the first place. You floundered, managing to blubber a painful combination of "we shouldn’t” or “I don't think that's the best idea”. Bucky’s face fell, only just, but he was quick to hide it as he untied a thick, worn flannel from his waist. 

“Wilson - headed for a smoke!” He shouted across the bar to where Sam was seemingly tangled up trying to serve a very amorous bachelorette party. His eyes were steely as he looked at you as if trying to pick you apart. “Think on it, yeah? No big deal, sugar. Back in five.” 

You nodded, tracing your finger through the circle of condensation from your drink. You snuck a glance at his retreating form, however, and already wanted to kick yourself. His ass in those jeans...he’d bulked up, clearly, even in the short time since you’d stop seeing each other. And there was no way in hell he thought you wouldn’t notice. The angel on your shoulder was practically throwing a tantrum as you quickly shot a text to your closest confidante.

call me in the am. about to do a bad thing

Wanda texted back almost instantly, but Bucky reentered the bar simultaneously. You clicked off your incessantly active cell phone and put on an expression you hoped wasn’t as much of a grimace as you thought. Bucky raised a single, knowing brow.

“What’s that face for?” He murmured innocuously. You lift a single shoulder in response, working extra to keep your face neutral.

“Changed your mind?” You shrugged again, and when he was sure nobody was looking, he jerked his head towards the back of the bar. “C’mon then, pretty baby.” 

“This is stupid,” You mumbled under your breath. You don’t realize how close he is behind you, jumping a little as the door swings shut behind you. 

“What’s stupid is waiting an hour for some douche when you’ve got me standing right in front of you,” Bucky whispered hotly, already spinning the two of you so your back hit the wall by the doorframe. A case of the imported vodka Nat loved dug into your calves. 

“We split up, Bucky,” You moaned as he licked at the shell of your ear. Honestly, you were half expecting something like “i didn’t know we were together”. Instead, he pulled back for a second to give you sad eyes and a slight twist of the corner of his mouth. Regret? 

Before you could truly ponder it, he was ducking back towards you, lips pressing into yours with a fire fueled by all things left unsaid. He kissed his way down your neck, and you heard his voice from months ago: ‘it’s just sex, sweetheart. just enjoy it’. You were drawn back to the present as he tugged at your lip with sharp teeth, and you recalled his gruff morning voice - ‘I better get going’. Memory pierced your hazy brain even as he slid a hand down to cup your sex. You arched into him, and he looked positively feral even in his delight. You pushed the past away as hard as you could and let yourself melt into his touch. 

As your head lilted backward to likely smack the wall, Bucky tangled a hand into your hair. He tipped your face back up to kiss it incessantly - several to your cheeks, a peck on your nose, a handful of smooches dotted to your forehead. When he finally reached your mouth again you were laughing, breathy and floaty, and he laughed too. He chuckled softly with you even as he slips his hands into your jeans, past the waistband of your cute-but-not-presumptuous panties. He was still chuckling a little, but it was more smug than amused when his fingers parted your folds and you inhaled sharply.

“Yeah,” He murmured, so low you almost missed it. “There you go, that’s my girl.”

You pretended the burst of heat through your gut is from his palm bumping against your clit. You were halfway through a moan when he withdrew his hand, instead placing both dark metal and pale skin on steadfastly on your hips. Swiftly, he placed you on top of those nagging crates you’d been pressed against - despite the marks on your thighs you’d nearly forgotten about them.

“Bucky, what-” You tried, but he cut you off with a swift press of lips to yours, tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease. If you sighed into the kiss, well, you’d call it heat of the moment. The familiar crinkling of foil set your anticipation and adrenaline spiking impossibly higher. Bucky pulled away to line himself up as you caught your breath, which suddenly seemed impossible. He rubbed a comforting thumb over your hip, leaning in again to nip playfully at your jaw.

“You ready, angel?” He murmured; all it took was your assenting nod before he slid home, your body greedily accepting him as if the two of you had never stopped. “Fuuuck...missed you. Missed this.”

Normally, such a suggestion would’ve irritated you - but you couldn’t deny the feelings you had had for him once upon a time, despite the casual nature of your relationship. You knew it was mutual; you knew exactly what he missed. It wasn’t just about the sex - even in the dingy storeroom of the bar, Bucky thrusting as deep as possible with one hand stabilizing the crates and the other on the small of your back, panting into each other’s mouths, it was about the connection. Being this close with another person, especially someone you dared to say you’d been good friends with, had much in common with - the interconnection of body and soul was something else. Or maybe that was your orgasm talking.

It snuck up on you. Your toes curled in your shoes, lip drew between your teeth. “Please.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Bucky rasped, face buried in your shoulder. The hand on your back snaked between the two of you to rub furiously at your clit - you threw your arms around his neck for balance as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. “Go ahead, let go. Come for me, let me make you feel good, angel.”

That did it. Your hands found purchase in his hair as your back arched; in your desperation to be quiet, you bit your lip so hard the taste of iron crept into your mouth. Bucky never slowed, chasing his own high as well as basking with you in yours. He kissed you, a little sudden, groaning deeply into your mouth as he came.

For a moment, the pair of you were silent, the only sound your heavy breaths and the rustling of clothing. Composing yourself, you made for the door - a hand on your wrist stopped you.

“This was a fluke, I know-” You started. The desperate look in Bucky’s eyes cut you off.

“I don’t...let me try again.” He mumbled, words jumbling together with nerves. He cleared his throat - you’d never seen Bucky Barnes nervous, of all things, and humility wasn’t a bad look for him. “You deserved - deserve better, sweetheart. I want to try again. I want to...I want to do it right.”

“Buck...” Your face softened, but he tensed, fearing rejection. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek softly. “I’d love to try again.”

That nagging voice in the back of your mind was on a roll - you’ll just get hurt again, it warned. He’s not good for you.

But when Bucky’s entire face lit up and he kissed you enthusiastically, making you laugh in equal parts shock and joy, that little voice was silent.

[floral-force]

Knight in Beskar Armor: Chapter 6

Seeing Stars

words: 2.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ only/NSFW content

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Your night on Cara’s couch seemed to go by quickly. Maybe it was because of your smug victory, or because her couch was infinitely better than the Mandalorian’s uncomfortable cot. You woke up to the smell of caf and the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen behind you. Yawning and sitting up, you caught a glimpse of Cara pouring dark liquid into two mugs, and you stretched your toes, swinging your legs over to the edge of the couch. Cara began to walk toward you.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling as she handed you your hot cup of caf. Sitting on a drab couch next to an Outer-Rim marshal was a stark departure from your usual breakfasts on Naboo. The luxury of warm breakfasts in the palace garden was another thing you’d have to get used to living without.

“You ready?” Cara said.

“To leave? Well, I guess so—I don’t have anything to pack, so that makes it a bit easier.”

“No,” Cara shook her head and set down her caf. “Are you ready to see Mando again? You really pissed him off last night.”

Your smile fell and you straightened your back. You shrugged and took another sip of your caf. Considering the way the Mandalorian had looked right through you last night, you didn’t doubt Cara’s words. The rush of your victory had worn off, and now you were left with a little fear about the Mandalorian’s demeanor going forward. You could easily assume that it’s rare for someone to challenge the Mandalorian and win.

“I haven’t seen him that upset in a while,” Cara shook her head and took a sip of her caf. “You really struck a nerve with him.”

“I have a feeling he’s not used to people talking back to him.”

“Normally he just freezes the ones that do in carbonite.” Cara raised an eyebrow at you, standing and walking back to the kitchen. “Anyways, Princess, I figured we could get you clothes that fit before you fly off with Mando.”

You nodded. “That might be a good idea.”

“We’ll head out soon,” Cara said, turning around from the sink to smile at you. “It won’t be as nice as anything you’re used to, but it’ll work for where you’re going.”

Your trip to Nevarro’s single clothing store had been as successful as it could be for a planet populated with outlaws and shady characters. You tried to think about the bright side—no more ill-fitting clothes, and now you wouldn’t have to worry about ruining your gown. But your new, bland clothes were yet another reminder of the sudden changes in your life. Putting on one of your new outfits—a form-fitting gray shirt, black leggings, and brown boots—made you miss your boudoir and Nelly’s help picking out dresses and outfits that suited your figure in colors that complimented your skin tone. You sighed, looking at your reflection in the fresher mirror. You certainly didn’t look like the Princess of Naboo; you looked like a commoner that would seek an audience with the king and queen.

When you returned to the common area, Cara was chatting with the Mandalorian. They both stopped their conversation to look at you, assessing your appearance. The silver dome was at the Mandalorian’s side again, and you wondered what could be inside of it—more weapons, perhaps? His gaze pulled you out of any thoughts you may have had about that mysterious levitating dome and tugged you back to the present. The light of the setting sun reflected off his beskar armor, and the room was filled with an orange glow.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his modulated voice sending an unwelcome chill down your spine.

You shrugged, slinging your bag of clothes over your shoulder. “I suppose I have to be.”

He turned to Cara. “I owe you.”

She smiled at him. “Buy me a drink when you come back, and we’ll call it even.”

You walked up to her and smiled. “Thank you, Cara. I appreciate your help.”

“You’re always welcome on Nevarro, Princess.”

You followed the Mandalorian out of her home and waved good-bye as you began your trek back to his ship. His long strides were hard to keep up with, and you were certain he was moving fast on purpose. You kept up with him as best as you could through Nevarro’s city streets, and as you crossed the lava flats, you found it harder to gain your footing and you fell behind him. However, you refused to ask him to slow down, instead narrowing your eyes and keeping track of the levitating dome that followed at his side.

Finally, you reached his ship, and you caught your breath when you were seated in the cockpit at long last. Your skin was hot and sweaty from keeping a steady pace behind the Mandalorian, and you tried to wipe the sweat from your brow and fan yourself as the Mandalorian prepped the ship for lift-off. The ship ascended into the air, breaking through the atmosphere with a jolt and a rumble.

“Where are we going?”

“Corellia,” he answered, not even bothering to turn around to speak to you. His hands were focused on the control panel, his helmet staring into the vast starry expanse ahead of him. “Strap in, I’m sending the Crest into hyperdrive.”

Almost immediately after you tightened your seat straps, the stars stretched, and you were thrown into your seat as the ship made the jump into hyperspace. Satisfied with his work, the Mandalorian stood and watched you unbuckle the straps pressing into your body. You stood and met his helmeted gaze, trying to remain calm in the face of a predator.

“You should get some rest,” he said, opening the door back to the ladder opening and descending it once again.

“Where?” you yelled, following him after a moment of stunned silence. Once again, the Mandalorian’s audacity took your breath away. You huffed as your feet tapped down the ladder, and when you touched the metal floor of the ship, you crossed your arms and faced him.

“Where else?” he moved over to where his rack was, opening the panel to it with the push of a button.

You walked to him, inches away from his chest plate, and you felt heat creep up your cheeks and down to your cunt. He was eyeing you up again like you were his next bounty, and for some reason it made you want to push him back onto his cot and taunt him like he had taunted you that night in the garden.

He cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong, Princess?” You jumped when one of his hands landed on your waist, and you heard him chuckle quietly. “Are you scared?”

“Of you, Mandalorian? Of course not,” you glanced down at the floor, then at the cot to your left.

“You know I’m good at reading people,” he said, the sound of a smirk tinging his voice. “Your body is betraying you.”

As he spoke, you felt his other hand creep up and nearly cup your breast, causing you to sharply inhale. He chuckled again and the hand on your waist suddenly grabbed your ass, making you yelp. You could feel your panties get even wetter, and you weren’t even trying to hide the blush that had overtaken your cheeks.

“Do you want this, Princess?” he murmured.

You nodded profusely, almost letting a whine escape your lips when the hand below your breast moved up and squeezed it. “Yes, Maker, I do.”

He slowly turned you around and pushed you down onto the cot, and your heart raced as he crowded you from above. His hands were by your ears, boxing you in and putting you at his mercy. You were captured, and you didn’t want to be released.

“Close your eyes,” he growled, and when you did as he said, you heard a hiss and then a sweet baritone voice. “Don’t open them. Understood?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for the Mandalorian. His hand gently closed around your throat, making your cunt throb even more than it already was.

“Understood?” he asked again, his question punctuated with a quick squeeze on your neck.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Fuck, yes, Mando.”

You felt him let go of your throat and his hands trailed down your body, exploring your curves and teasing you. You were nearly bucking your hips, so close to begging the hunter to touch you more. Hot breath brushed your ear, making you shiver. You heard the Mandalorian snicker when you whimpered as his hand cupped your cunt, his thumb pressing on your clit.

“Good girl,” he snarled, sending chills up your spine and heat down your torso. “So wet for me already, I can feel it.”

You whined when his hot lips touched your neck, your hands wrapping around his torso and pulling him closer. His thumb was rubbing up and down on your clit, his other fingers stroking your sex, teasing you until you were nearly crying out. He was needy too—he barely took your shirt off to suck on your tits and nibble your nipples, and you knew he was going to leave marks all over your chest. His neediness took the form of impatience, and he quickly worked his way down to your pussy, roughly yanking your leggings and panties down.

Out of instinct, your hand reached out and grabbed onto his hair; it was thick and a little curly, and you tugged slightly, trying to guide his mouth to your dripping cunt. His hands were gripping your waist, but you felt him quickly remove them and heard the quiet sound of leather gloves hitting the cot. His bare hands fell back on your waist, and they were warm, just like his breath was on your clit.

“Beg for it, Princess. Tell me how much you want my mouth.”

You felt your brow furrow in frustration, your hand tugging his hair again. “Fuck, please, Mando. Please, I need your mouth on me, I need it so fucking bad—”

You were cut off when you felt his tongue lick up from your slit to your clit, eliciting a sharp inhale and a moan from you. You felt him chuckle against your clit as he drew lazy circles with his tongue, his hands still gripping your waist and holding you in place. When he gently nibbled on the sensitive nub, your hips jerked upwards, but he managed to hold you down.

“You’re so fucking wet, cyar’ika,” he mumbled against your cunt, making you moan. “You’re such a naughty little princess, aren’t you?”

“Mmph…Y-yes, Mando,” you moaned as he slid a hand down your body, massaging your inner thigh, fingers creeping closer to your soaking slit.

“I want to hear you say it,” he growled, fingers teasing your entrance.

“F-fuck, Mando,” you breathed out, barely able to focus while he teased you, the heat in your core growing. “I-I’m a naughty little princess.”

You barely finished your sentence before two fingers plunged into your dripping hole, the squelch making you cringe out of embarrassment. The Mandalorian just groaned, obviously pleased with how much his teasing had worked you up. He was working his fingers in and out, curling them inside of you, and you could feel your cunt clenching on them.

“Fuck, cyar’ika, you’re so tight, so wet. Is this all because of me?”

You could feel his breath on your clit yet again, and it was driving you crazy. Your grip on his hair tightened as you felt your cunt clench and your core grow tense. You could only moan and nod in response, but he wasn’t satisfied with your answer. His free hand flew up to grab your throat, squeezing it again and making your cunt even wetter than it already was.

“I said, is this all because of me, Princess?” he growled, teasing your clit with a quick flick of his tongue.

“Yes, Mando, fuck—it’s all because of you,” you moaned, your breaths quickening as his fingers pumped in and out of your dripping hole, making your entire body shake.

“That’s it, Princess,” he mumbled against your clit. “Cum for me, cum all over my fingers, there you go.”

You nearly screamed as your orgasm blasted through you, your cunt clenching around his fingers, soaking them in your cum. As you felt your orgasm, you saw stars, the force of your climax stronger than you had thought. The tension in your core finally released, and the heat slowly dissipated as you caught your breath, relaxing back into the firm cot. The Mandalorian’s fingers pulled out of you with a wet pop, and you jumped when he gave your slit one final lick before coming back up to kiss your neck. You could almost smell yourself on his face, and you felt a little pride about marking the fearsome bounty hunter with your scent.

You made a surprised sound when you felt his fingers force themselves into your mouth, and you could taste your salty-sweet cum. You licked his fingers dutifully, listening to him praise you and say your name while you worked. After he pulled them out of your mouth, you jumped when you felt his lips meet yours in a desperate kiss. Your hands wrapped around his neck, and you almost opened your eyes when he deftly rolled you over so you were on top of him, his cold beskar armor chilling your warm skin.

“I just had to kiss you,” he murmured against your lips, a hand stroking the back of your head. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Fine by me,” you whispered, catching his lips in another kiss. You moved yourself off of him, nestling against his side instead, a hand resting on his chest.

“Are you tired now, Princess?” he asked.

“If making me cum so hard I saw stars was your plan to tire me out,” you mumbled, “then you’ve succeeded.”

He chuckled. “I promised to take care of you, Princess.” He planted a kiss on your forehead. “And I promised to do so by any means necessary.”

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[arcadejohn127-9]

The brothers with alcohol + when they're drunk

[what I believe the brothers would be like when drunk and their relationship with alcohol]

Side note, I'm not much of a drinker and only going off general knowledge I have - I've never been drunk before but this idea is keeping me awake, I just want to sleep in peace

My inspiration for some of these

Lucifer:

A social drinker and as a stress reliever

It's very aware of how much he's drinking and keeps himself in check

Refuses to drink anything that'll actually get him drunk in public

Wine is his go to for social events

It does nothing for him

If you wanna get him drunk it'll have to be either:

Whisky or brandy

He's a vulnerable drunk

Will cry

This man is repressing alot and it really shows when he's drunk

Mammon:

He can handle alcohol extremely well

Seeing as him and asmo go to parties quite alot he's use to throwing back shots

Has done a jeg-stand

For a fun time and the possibility of getting tipsy he'll have gin

To get him drunk he'll need to have margaritas

Think he's loud and impulsive already? Well get ready - it's tripled

He will take on any challenge, sing as loud as he can and will try to make stupid bets

But when prompted he will rant about his issues

Levithan:

He's very familiar with drinking

[as seen here, an empty bottle and singular glass]

Has a mini fridge tucked away in his room and has alcohol stashed away in it

From wines to Rum

He normally celebrates Character birthdays or any anniversarys of his favourite series with a long night of drinking

His favourite to drink is a fruity cocktail

Will drink those massive fish bowl ones without any hesitation

He doesn't really need a specific drink to get him drunk

But when he's drunk he's a mess

Super loud and quick to anger

Has tried to fight a lamp because it was 'glowing at him funny'

Satan:

Rarely drinks

Finds alcohol disgusting no matter how much he tries to add fruit or juice to it

Has mixed vodka into his tea

It was a surprise to Mammon and levi when they saw that Satan didn't even seem to notice when they put vodka in his latest brew

Only drinks to be social, you'll see him do two glasses and that's it

BUT, if it is a situation where he gets drunk

B E W A R E

He is the avatar of wrath for a reason

A very angry drunk

Get him drunk at the risk of the people's safety, you've been warned

Has been seen crying in an alleyway and petting a cat

Asmodeus:

As said in mammons; they party and are use to drinking

All his drinks are aesthetically pleasing

He does it mostly for the pictures

LOVES anything fruity or extravagant

He doesn't really have any specific drink but he keeps his drinking range limited anyway

He doesn't like ruining his public image nor wants to be seen as ugly

So if you're planning to get him drunk it'll have to be a 1 to 1 situation

When drunk he's very flirty

But thats a given

Will say the first thing that pops into his head without any hesitation

Can be pretty rude

Is known for spewing out all the gossip he knows

Please don't tell him any secrets when drunk - they won't remain a secret

Beezlebub:

It's difficult to get him drunk

He doesn't drink anyway but if he's in charge of looking after any of the party animals

He will drink some but keep it limited

Seeing as he eats alot between drinks and even sips itself it takes AGES for him to even get tipsy

Doesn't have a preference or any specific drink

If it tastes bad he'll be less likely to drink it so fruity Alcohol is best

Discovered candy floss alcohol and it became an instant fav

If you somehow get him drunk he's very touchy

His hands will be on your waist, hips, shoulders, arms, head at any given second

Will cuddle you all night

Less timid with affection and let's himself be selfish

Can tend to forget his strength though

Do be careful

Belphegor:

It is impossible to get this man drunk

He gets extremely tired when tipsy

So far hasn't ever gotten past being tipsy

He doesn't care if it tastes bitter or smells awful

He just wants to drink

Likes to mix his alcohols together in hopes it'll make something good

Rarely drinks but will just casually grab a bottle if he wants to

If by a miracle he gets drunk he will become clingy

He's a sleepy drunk so nothing much really changes for him

Would most likely get into a bar fight and sleep half way

Very much attracted to anything flashy or colourful, if you need a drunk belphie to give you space

Just sit him Infront of a lava lamp or a TV

[dilucids]

Childe oneshot; Blinded dreams

001. angst && death/mentions of death.

summary; you don't know who childe thinks of when he calls you, but you know it's not the you you wish you were.

( i feel bad for ditching y'all for this long so have one of my drafted oneshots originally written for wattpad, && if the reach on this is good, i'll let you guys have more [teehee] )

You met during summer.

And despite the sun blaring down, sending harsh rays to melt the skin right off your flesh, you did not know if the reason you were red faced was because of said sun, or because there was a pretty boy ( one of the prettiest, mind you ) that lived right next to you and he was currently hanging on the fence, waving at you with a smile on his face.

"Heya, (name)!" The way he says your name is breathtaking, almost as if it lived on the tip of his tongue yet he seemed foreign to it, as if he had not uttered the syllables in many years. Like a flower blossoming over the years, finally pulled out premature by small, fat fingers belonging to a mere child who wanted to see the flower in bloom. ( You forget you have never seen this child before. ) The flower is ruined however, its fragile petals fall into their palm and they shrug, as if they hadn't taken a life and move onto the next one, repeating the process. ( How does he know your name again? )

He peers at you ( it's similar to the way you would look at an old friend or the way your mother looks when you're going to family reunions and she has the bittersweet revelation that her father is still dead, ) and you blink, head rolling to the side, holding the bouquet of freshly picked dead flowers close to your chest, "How'd you know my name?"

His jaw slacks for just a second before his smile is back on his face, pulling himself up and flinging himself over the fence, landing right in front of you and causing you to take a tiny step back, "magic?" He tests the answer and shakes his head to revoke it when you furrow your eyebrows, not appreciating the joke. "Your mum was talking to mine," he speaks the truth when your face is unchanging to his plain joke.

You hum, and then walk back to the flower bed that was left behind by the previous family, and continue snapping stems off as collecting them in a heap next to you. The ginger boy follows you, although he doesn't sit down like you do but squats, hands close to his chest and watches as you pluck the flowers straight out of the earth. Although he followed you, he seemed more interested in the dead flowers, staring at one until you ripped it out the earth and then moved onto the next one.

He reaches out for a flower but you stop him, holding his fingers in yours and shaking your head when he looks over at you, questioning. "Thorns." An understanding breath escapes him as he continues watching you instead, your fingers dig against the dirt slightly, pushing it away before gripping the stem with your pointer and thumb before tugging ( there are many times when the force causes you to fall backwards slightly sometimes but it doesn't stop you. )

"Ajax!" You both hear coming from the boy's, probably Ajax, garden and you peer over him to when he suddenly stands up, going to jump back over the fence.

You test the name in your head a few times before your mouth follows, "Ajax," you stumbled a little but he turns around anyways, humming with a smile on his face, "I'll bring you a proper flower one day."

He nods and then disappears over the fence. You hear scoldings from his mother but tune them out. ( You didn't like the way his name felt new on your tongue, it didn't match the way he called you. )

You begged your mother to buy purple carnation seeds later that day.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are ten and 'Ajax' still sounds weird to you but you persevere.

It doesn't sound weird when your mother is the one calling him, asking him if he had enough pillows to be laying on your bedroom floor and he nods, leaning against the frame on your bed as you both bid goodnight and your mother nods, closing the door behind her. Almost immediately after the door clicks close, Ajax leans back onto your bed, making you quirk an eyebrow. "I can only sleep with two pillows."

You peer down at the head of his makeshift bed, at the foot of the closet next to your bed. There was only one pillow, you sigh and drop the pillow onto the floor. You don't wait until he says anything and slip into your own bed, pulling the cover over yourself, facing the wall rather than Ajax.

( You dream that night.

You dream of a world where man had the powers of Gods and Gods walked amongst men. Where the world was shaped by years of wars and work, where statues of Seven Gods were erected upon the land, granting peace and protection for people and animals alike.

You are sat around a marble circular table, the smell of food and tea hitting your nose. You peer up, there's a man sat a little across from you, clad in colours of cor lapis. His amber eyes hold no emotion, a diamond of memories steeping in his eyes as he brings up the cup to his lips and sips behind the hand he also brings up. His form is nothing less than godly and he sets the cup down without a sound━━━━ like a warrior. His shoulders roll down like waterfalls cascading from mountains, his hair is pulled back and bangs freely fall like leaves of a tree and you can see the scenery of Liyue in his very soul.

You don't know his name but it slips off your tongue perfectly, "Zhongli, where is Hu tao?"

(( Who is Hu Tao? ))

"The Director will be late, she is dealing with," he clears his throat in a way that lets you know his following words are a lie, "other troubling matters within the funeral parlor."

You nod, although you have no idea what he is talking about. "Do you know how late she will be?" You inquire, watching his eyebrows furrow and fingers flex, linen gloves pressing against his fingers as he does so.

You see Morax in him for a little while before his thinking subsides and he presses his lips into a line, "The Director did not state how long she will be."

You hum with nothing else to say and begin bringing your attention to the food that was beginning to grow cold on the table, "help yourself please," you signal Zhongli to the food and before he speaks, an amusing smile breaks out on your face, "I will be taking care of the bill."

His troubles subsides and he follows your words, grabbing the chopsticks by his ceramic plate. You two fall into a comforting silence, which is a peculiar yet nice feeling. Rather than a business meeting, it feels more like two old friends meeting up for a small chat.

A while passes with no sign of Hu Tao and you see Zhongli peer up from his food, eyes tracking another entity who had walked into the building, so you throw your head back a little.

"Childe." The boy looks eyes with you and a smile breaks out on his face when he sees you, the waves in his eyes crashing against the shore as his eyes crease. (( Childe? That was Ajax. ))

And you wake up to the sea washing up on shore eyes gazing down at you. )

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are twelve, two years have passed and the dream you had stayed with you like a distant memory. Ajax's name still doesn't sound nice when you speak it and you feel like you're ruining it so you settled on a nickname, Aj. ( Only two letters, how could you make them sound wrong? )

"Aj," you call out the boy, whose smile widens when he sees you. Two syllables, but that's how you know him. He dismisses himself from the bind of conversation of two girls, who seemed pretty interested in him ( as a man ) and you knew that for sure because when you stepped your foot into their conversation, they glared at you slightly before stomping away.

The walk home was slightly awkward. For you anyways, because there were words that were burning at the tip of your tongue and sometimes letting lava erupt was a bad idea but leaving it to build up is also a bad idea.

"You okay?" Ajax almost gives you a 'go', peering up at you slightly ( you were taller than him, a feat you were quite proud of ).

You clear your throat slightly, starting off cautiously, "remember when we first met?"

And you don't know what you had expected because a stupid smile lights up on his face and he answers straightly, "no."

( Your poor two years of taking care of purple carnations, down the drain for a boy like this. )

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are fifteen, stood in front of Ajax, holding a bouquet of purple carnations and a box of assorted chocolates behind your back. Sweat collects in the palms of your hand and you know it's not from the heat, you wipe both palms on the side of your sweater, watching him talk to his friends to give yourself a little more time for confidence before walking over there.

But the time shortens when his friend notices you, pointing out your figure to Ajax and he turns to you, a whole 180 degrees with his entire body and waves at you with his entire arm, you wave back with a shaky smile on your face when he begins to run your way after bidding his goodbyes to his friends.

He skids to a stop when in front of you, and can obviously see the flowers you were attempting to hide because a sly smile perks itself on his face. ( You would never admit to it, but he looked really good when he was smiling. )

"What are you hiding?" He hums, leaning down slightly with his hands behind his back as he attempts to see, you turn away, hiding the gifts for a little while longer. "Hold still," you press him down with one hand on his shoulder, stopping him and he straightens his back, humming.

"Listen," you take a deep breath because it's inescapable for you to not ramble this out, "we've been friends for a really long time, yeah? And I know this is really weird and out of the blue but I really like you and I'm sorry if I'm ruining our friendship but I've weighed the pros and cons of not having you as a friend and as someone I walk past in hallways and glance away awkwardly at, and the cons actually outweigh the pros but I really don't know if I can keep these feelings to myself because you're the only re━━"

A hand on your head stops you from talking anymore ( he's taller than you now, taller than most your peers actually ) and his smile is still there, "you're not breathing dear."

You don't realise he's called you 'dear', you feel like he's always been calling you that so it skips past your mind, and you take a deep breath. Presenting the gifts from behind you, Ajax stares at you with little expression on his face.

"I love you, Childe."

( Who is Childe? Why did he come to your mind now and why is Ajax tearing up?

There were many questions that entered your mind then, but they were all quickly forgotten when Ajax pushes your gifts aside, placing both hands on either side of your cheek and quite literally pulling you up to his height, pressing his lips against yours. You're both deaf to the sounds of whoops, whistles, and claps by his friends in the background as your arms circle his waist and his tears enters your kiss. )

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are nineteen, and the way Ajax calls you is deafening to your heart.

"(name)," he breaths, in an indescribable way as if to say 'my (name)' and it should give you butterflies but the way he looked at you made you feel as though you were a soul trapped in the wrong body. He was giving you everything you had ever wanted in a way you had never wished.

You should stop him, because he's not in love with you. He's in love with the person he sees in you, but who is that person? Why do they mean so much to him? Can't he forget them? Why do you remind him of them? Is he stupid?

And most importantly, why the hell isn't he letting you go? You've died already━━━━ even if he still retains all his past memories, does he even know how unfair his gaze is? The way he says your name? It makes you want to wake from your grave, located near Liyue ( because though Childe was from Snezhnaya, you lived and loved near the peaks of Liyue and qingxin flowers were made to bloom above your resting place, delicately and preciously ).

The way his breath was hitting your bare skin, his cold lips were barely touching your burning flesh, the goddamn way he was muttering your name under his breath and you think you've finally snapped but you come completely undone when he stops, glancing back up at you with his eyes.

( Memories wash over you in an instant, the years you spent with him in Liyue, even if he was a Fatui Harbinger and Zhongli advised you, albeit indirectly, not to get involved with them and Xiao, not so indirectly, with a scowl on his face and then the memory of him taking your life in Liyue, with a single arrow through your chest and the last thing you see is the tsunami of emotions in his eyes and Xiao pulling him off of you. You've lived for so long, through so many lives and yet he is the only one who could completely tear you apart and make you lose all reason. )

"I love you, Childe, but please," the way you call his name makes his heart ache, in ways it has never before. "Let me go." And you wash away from his shore like a fleeting memory.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Childe wakes up with his back sore and face cold due to leaning against your gravestone, he takes one hand to run through his hair, the other is placed above the grass where your body was buried and he peers down, grass entangled in his fingers, stabbing through the thin fabric of his glove like your hair did.

"Childe," he knows it's not you behind him, because you don't sound like a man nor a God and the way you called his name is more endearing, as if you were speaking a poem of two lovers but he turns anyways, and in his heart he hopes it's you.

But it's not, it's the Adeptus who held you close to his heart. Xiao's and Childe's relationship has never been good, simply because; a) their personalities clashed and b) they were on opposing sides but after your death, an unexplainable hatred grew in Xiao's heart for him.

( In Xiao's mind, Childe was the one who cared for his job more than you and heeded orders to end your life. ) Childe cracks a smile on his face, waving Xiao off before he says anything and pushes himself off your grave, "you don't need to say anything, I'm going," he says in a playful tone, as if he were leaving a party.

Xiao's eyebrows furrow, lips curling into a snarl when Childe walks past him, "despicable," he spits. ( But if Childe had asked you to, you would've taken your own life. )

[deewithani]

A clone’s first day at Coruscant prison

Clone Trooper Toast Series Volume 1

Pairing: Clone Trooper Toast x GN!Reader

Word count: 2,336

T/W: Hazing

Rating: G

A/N: I couldn’t help but go serious with this. It was started out as a drabble, but quickly gained its own life and I couldn’t stop. Toast clone is love. Toast clone is life. Toast clone deserves happiness too. I might write another couple of fics to give him some. This is my first fic ever, no beta. If we die, we die.

Tags: @royalhandmaidens as requested.

If you sat Toast down and asked him what his favorite food in the galaxy was, he would tell you it was toast. It was true, and his love for toast begat the name that he was given. He didn’t know exactly what it was about toast that made it his favorite food. It tasted good, sure, much better than the rations that were more commonly served to clones no longer in training (or so he had heard, he was fresh out of training himself), and definitely better than what they served to cadets to ensure their nutritional needs were met, but not exceeded, at the bare minimum of cost. You could put different toppings and spreads on it, giving you a new breakfast every day if you wanted. And it was cheap, so the Republic had no issue serving it to Clones as an “option”, sitting in the breakfast lineup on a tray, next to a small basket filled with small packets of butter and jogan fruit jam. He came to the mess at the same time every day, just so he could have some toast, because breakfast was his favorite part of every day. No, he wasn’t sure what it was about toast itself that made him like it best, but he knew it was his favorite food the first time he had breakfast at the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center.

You thought back to the first time you ever met Toast, the very first day he came to the prison, and the first time you ever saw “First Breakfast”. He arrived early that morning directly from Kamino with many of his other brothers, fresh faced and ready to make a difference in the war. To do a good job. To be a good soldier. To be a good brother. He had high hopes for this posting, and high expectations for himself, and he was prepared to do his duty to serve the Republic and its people. You thought back to that day with happiness. It was the day you met the most wonderful person in the galaxy.

On that very first day on duty he was cornered by a small group of more experienced troopers who were tasked with showing him around and getting him acquainted with his job and the brothers he would be working with. One of the most well known first day rituals the the boys participated in was known as the “First Breakfast”. It was a time where the more experienced clones would welcome their new brothers, in their own special way. The First Breakfast was a tradition, and every clone that worked at the prison had participated in it. Toast’s participation in the First Breakfast was required before he set foot on the floor, whether he knew it or not.

“C’mon vod” the leader of the group, Ether, had said. “Let’s head to the mess to grab some grub before shift change.” Toast spent the short walk answering questions, “How are the cadets on Kamino doing?”, “What do you think of Coruscant?”, “Do you know any girls?”, “Did you chose a name yet?”. He didn’t really know how to answer those questions, he never really thought about his own feelings about his life, but he answered them as best he could. The cadets were doing as well as any other clone had done on Kamino. Coruscant was different than Kamino, but he had never been any other place to make a fair comparison. Of course he didn’t know any girls, there were none aside from the Kaminoans and the Jedi Shaak Ti at the training center. And no, he didn’t have a name, he just didn’t stand out from his brothers enough to warrant a name, either from his vod or from his own heart.

When they finally reached the mess, Ether put an arm around Toast and gave him a rough side hug. “Alright vod. This is the staff mess. There’s mostly clones here, but there is some natborn staff, so don’t be surprised if you see a face that doesn’t look like your own in the mess every now and then. Now, the menu changes, and you know as well as the rest of us that some food just isn’t edible, so let me guide you through what’s good, and what’s not.” As he walked down the line he pointed out exotic dishes, to Toast’s palette anyway.

You sat alone in the corner of the mess, reading the day’s news on your holopad, unaware of the shiny new trooper that Ether’s crew just brought through the door. Ether lifted his voice, pulling your attention to the group, where he had his arm around the shoulders of the timid looking clone. You had heard that Ether liked to put new troopers under his wing, at least long enough to play a mean spirited prank on them, but the clones had always been tight lipped, and you had never seen or heard any solid proof it. Until today. Today, it looked like you might get a glimpse inside the world of a new clone at the Coruscant prison.

You watched as Ether pointed out various foods to the new trooper, shaking his head yes and no at various times, presumably to indicate which choices were better than others. It should seem obvious which were best; some dishes were barely touched, while others were attacked as if they were set out for a pack of loth-wolves. It didn’t take a scientist to know that clones had a liking for the spicy pepper hash that was a staple in the mess, and tended to stay away from the blue hued yogurt. You suspected that Ether was telling him the same.

First Breakfast always –always – included the spicy pepper hash. Every new trooper had to try it, even though all the others knew it was spicier than the lava of Mustafar. Ether knew First Breakfast was a mean prank. New clone trooper, fresh from Kamino? He’s never had anything spicier than some salt and pepper added to the “grey fluff” they called food on Kamino. The long necks probably didn’t even know what a pepper was, if he was being honest with himself. But he had seen more than one new shiny come through those prison doors and fall in love with the spicy pepper hash. They just needed to jump in feet first. Try it, burn up your taste buds, have a good laugh with your brothers, and tada, you’re part of the group! Every single clone here went through it, and it was obvious that almost all of them had a taste for the peppers. Besides, even if he didn’t like it, it was a bonding experience, and there were other things he could eat after today. He wouldn’t be the only clone that would pass on the hash after the First Breakfast, and no one held it against any of the others.

You watched as Ether filled the young clone’s plate with spicy pepper hash, telling him it was the most popular dish at the prison. He didn’t lie, exactly. It was. Loved by both clone troopers and prisoners, the hash was easily mass produced, cheap, and came frozen, allowing it to be safely stored for long periods. It was perfect for the prison, and the workers and inhabitants it contained.  He just left out the ‘it’s so spicy it will make you cry’ part. The new trooper didn’t even know what spicy was, let alone that it caused physical pain, but Ether and the other clones did, and you did too. Unfortunately for the young shiny, you didn’t know that he never eaten anything spicy before. The clone troopers seemed to love it, so why would you think the new guy would be any different.

Ether and his buddies led Toast to a table, in his hands his full plate and a small glass of water. The others had also chosen the spicy pepper hash, but had chosen to drink blue milk instead. “Kriff”, you thought to yourself, “that hash is really spicy. The other troopers are drinking blue milk, but he’s only got a glass of water. He doesn’t know what he’s in for”. You made the decision right then, if this is what Ether has in mind for his “prank”, you’ll have a glass of blue milk ready for what you felt was inevitable. If you were wrong, well, you would just have a glass of blue milk to drink for yourself. No harm, no foul, you could play it off as being thirsty and not bother the clones as they went about their business, but you wanted to be ready in any case. You didn’t like a bully, in any case, and if you had to take the new trooper the milk you could just play it off as just getting to know your new coworker, even if you didn’t work in the same area as he did.

You watched as the troopers started chowing down on their breakfasts, some eating slowly and savoring their meal, others shoveling it in as fast as they could. The new trooper dug in as well, but you noticed his face started turning red almost as soon as the hash hit is tongue. Most of the others with him had already started sipping on their milk, but the new clone was guzzling down his water before he ha d finished his first bite, coughing and trying to catch his breath as the strange food burned his mouth. You decided then that the prank had gone too far, and you got up to take the milk to the beleaguered clone.

“Here”, you told him. “Drink this. It will help take the spiciness away.” Toast, brow covered in sweat, eagerly took the milk from your hand and downed it in record time. “I’ll get you some more if you’d like.”, you said, and he vigorously nodded affirmingly. While you headed back to refill his milk, his brothers all gathered around him, patting him on the back jovially and welcoming him to the crew. On your way back to the table you noticed the small smile on his face, presumably for sufficiently passing the “test” and becoming one of the group. You still didn’t like Ether’s prank, but it did warm your heart to see the new trooper take it in stride, and his brothers gathering around to celebrate his official first day guarding the worst of the worst the galaxy had to offer.

While you were getting him a refill of milk you had an idea. Just because he had a bad experience with the spicy pepper hash didn’t mean that he couldn’t still have some breakfast. The problem was knowing what he liked. You had absolutely no idea. So you decided on the safe bet: toast. You grabbed a plate, a butter knife, and a fork, a couple of pieces of toast, and one pack each of butter and jogan fruit jam. Returning to the table you sat down at the seat opposite of Toast, placing the glass of milk and the plate in front of him, silently smacking yourself in the head when you noticed you added an unnecessary fork to the mix. Thoughts of how he would think you were an absolute idiot ran through your mind, but he looked up at you and smiled, graciously accepting the milk and toast.

He looked at the plate quizzically, before asking “What is this?” You were sure that he wouldn’t trust anything anyone else brought him after the fiery start to his first day, but he listened intently as you explained the different items you had placed on the plate. You told him the toast was an easy to eat food, not spicy and well tolerated by most people, and the butter and jam were used as spreads for the top. You thought he may like it more than the hash, so you brought it to him to try.

He seemed to accept your explanation, and after showing him how to add the butter and jam to toast you watched him take a bite. He chewed for a moment before his eyes went wide and a big smile split his face. Swallowing, he took a sip of milk, then looked back to you and exclaimed that it was the best thing that he had ever eaten in his life. At least, it was the best thing he had eaten up to that point.

“Well then, toast-boy, I’m glad there’s food here that you can enjoy. It’s my favorite food in the mess, I don’t really trust anything else, honestly.” You sat together at the table for a few minutes, asking each other questions and learning about your new friend. As the clock moved closer to the official start of your own day, you moved to wrap up your conversation, and you steered in the direction of your names. After you had officially introduced yourself, he looked at you sadly. He had never had a problem with not having a name before, but now he had to give you his designation, which felt inadequate, but he gave you what he had and explained that he hadn’t chosen a name for himself, and no one had given him a name either.

He didn’t have a name? How odd. Although you rarely worked with the clones directly every one you met had a name of some sort. Was it normal not to have a name? You didn’t know, but kind eyed clone gave you as much as he had. He was nice, and was good conversation, so you hoped that you would see him again.

“Listen, next time I see you, how about I call you Toast instead of those numbers? It would be easier for me to remember”.

“Yeah, I’d like that. ‘Toast’. Thanks for the name!”

You saw him in the mess every morning for breakfast from that day on.

[aceofspadegrass]

Pretty Princess? Nope.

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Niragi Suguru, Dori Sakurada

Genre: Honestly it's more Sakurada crack. Based off of Dori wearing a dress.

1.3k words

So this happened. Again. I'm having too much fun with writing Sakurada just..... being there. For no logical reason.

Oh, and for people who need to know, there is alcohol mentioned in here. In case you don't want to read about that.

“ So….. explain to me again why you’re sitting here?” Aguni approaches the giraffe print clad man, who was sitting legs over the edge of the rooftop, staring out into the night sky.

“ Fucking…… bastard left me here because I tried to seduce him while he was wearing a fucking dress. Where did he even get a dress, this is the Beach, there’s only supposed to be swimwear here…..” Niragi grumbles, arms folded over his chest as he stares downwards, his lips pulled into a disgusted sneer.

Aguni blinks, staring at the man, his tired eyes and body really wanting to go lay down and sleep. Sadly he had his rounds to make, so he was out and about, and now was finding what Aguni could only refer to as the ‘Worst Thing I Had to Babysit, and I Don’t Even Babysit’ sitting alone on the roof. So all he offers instead is a low hum of acknowledgement, vaguely aware of what Niragi was talking about.

“ You didn’t….. know it was him?”

Niragi throws his arms up in the air. “ How the hell was I supposed to know that was him?! He was turned around, I guess fixing his fucking hair or something, and I came up behind him and-“ Niragi loudly groans, running his hand down his face. “ And then I stormed up here, fucking yelled at him for it, and then he had the audacity to tell me to ‘calm down’ and ‘take a breather’. What does he think he is, telling me to calm down?! I’m perfectly calm!” Aguni calls bullshit, but he knew better than to light the cannon again, so he remains silent. Niragi looks back at him, eyes scanning over his figure again. “ Don’t you have something better to do, Boss?”

Aguni just looks at Niragi, at the black shirt with the white streams that weaved throughout like a bad imitation of a cooling lava pool giraffe, at the half bun and loose strand that hung off the side of his face, at the narrowed stare and casual grip on the rifle that Niragi carried with him everywhere, ready to strike at any point, whenever he felt up to. Niragi remains silent, waiting for an answer, and Aguni just sighs, and walks up to the man, looking down at him with a quiet disposition. Niragi stands up, still looking at Aguni, who despite the attempt to not feel small, still was a whole inch shorter.

Aguni puts a hand on Niragi’s shoulder, and his lips slightly purse, trying to think of the words to say. Niragi tenses up underneath his touch, and knocks it away, backing up just a bit. Aguni’s hand drops to his side, but that didn’t matter, Aguni gathering what might as well be a response. “ Would you like to come down and share some beer while you let steam off instead?” Aguni offers. Sure, it wasn’t the best sort of response, but he had no idea how to comfort a loaded gun who tried to romance his doppelgänger wearing a dress. Aguni didn’t even want to think of the reason why that guy even was wearing one, or what he was doing, but right now he had to make sure Niragi didn’t go and do something so stupid that he had the sole power to restrain for another day. Redirecting his attention for a little oughta do the trick, right? Niragi looks at Aguni carefully, picking apart the simple offer, then visibly relaxes a little, nodding. Aguni simply turns and starts heading down, and by the tap tap tapping of Niragi’s footsteps, he was obediently following him as usual.

The trip down to the bar area was relatively unobtrusive, people ignoring them for once for their own hubris. That was better, Aguni thought, since that meant nobody would wind up Niragi in any sort of emotion, positive or negative.

The current bartender quickly gets the both of them a glass, Aguni taking a slow sip as Niragi stares at the golden liquid like it killed his ego. Aguni opens his mouth just a fraction in an attempt to nudge the other into a soon-to-be one sided conversation, but Niragi takes the glass and drinks at least a third of it, setting it back down on the counter with a little more force than necessary, and his mouth opens on its own as Niragi begins his tangent over finding his clone and everything that he’s done thus far. Aguni acts as nothing more than a vessel, feeling cold wash down his throat every other minute as Niragi went on and on with brief pauses to quench his throat, and soon both parties were empty of beer, Niragi ending up with a second and getting louder. The rant wasn’t even on the other him anymore, now just whatever beef Niragi had with literally anything that his brain could dig up.

“ - I couldn’t even find my good shirt for a good twenty minutes because I somehow kicked it underneath the table and I thought someone walked into my room and stole my shirt! But then one of the other militants came by and found it under there, thank goodness, and then when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I saw that smug snowball with legs on my way to the dining hall, and he had the audacity to exist? Who let that man look like that! No man should look that devious with that bad of a hair dye job!” Niragi went on, Aguni slowly regretting letting this man open his mouth. He nearly was as bad as Hatter, except Hatter was just like that, and Niragi was well….. Niragi.

Niragi looks at Aguni, and sniffs a little, pointing a finger at his chest. “ And then you know what else? Then I found someone trying to leave, so I shot the bastard behind the building. 5 shots, one to each limb and straight in the dick.” He barks a laugh. “ It was great! Serves him right!” The man leans back a little, still smiling and apparently off in his own little world by now. Aguni asks for a water, and he sips on that as Niragi continues.

He counts at least four drinks before Niragi was definitely just rambling for the sake of hearing himself talk. Aguni only had the one at the beginning, now sipping at a can of soda. Niragi was grinning at the sky, and he was spouting nonsense about culling codes. Aguni wasn’t sure what most of it meant, but Niragi seemed to like talking about it.

“ Oh! There you are!” A similar, yet much friendlier voice catches Aguni’s attention, and he slowly looks over as Niragi’s nicer clone comes over, and Aguni quickly realizes what Niragi meant, the man still wearing what looked to be a tiara. “ Hello there! I hope you don’t mind if I bring Niragi back to his room, would you?” “ Oh, uh…. No. Go ahead.” Aguni gestures to the giraffe, who barely recognizes that Sakurada was even there. Sakurada bows a little in appreciation, and he comes over to Niragi, who grumbles quietly. “ Go rot in a hole somewhere else you…. pretty princess.” Niragi commented with an obvious slur in his voice, Sakurada politely laughing and helping Niragi stand. “ Come on, you need your rest. I apologize if he was too much, I’ll take over from here!” Niragi looks back to Aguni as he says the last parts, Aguni nodding back with a calm expression. “ I know Niragi, he’ll be fine.” Aguni tells Sakurada. Sakurada nods, and with quiet encouragement, he guides the drunk man out and back to his room, Aguni downing the last of the soda. He couldn’t help but feel relief throughout his entire body. Thank goodness someone else had control of him. He wasn’t sure his psyche could deal any longer. Or his ears.

[lifeofroos]

A/N: MORE Nico gets therapy because... yeah (Because it's what I'm known for at this point).

AO3 - KoFi

Ghost of a memory

There were weird shadows on the ceiling. It didn’t make me feel any better. 

Slowly, I sat up, so I could look at the wall instead. That was even worse. 

I sighed and stepped out of bed. Going for a walk probably counted as healthy problem solving (Even though it was past midnight). 

With my jacket on, I strolled through the grass, past the cabins and the lava wall. Around me were lots of shadows, but I didn’t know if they were ghosts or not. I didn’t want to see. 

I was so busy with not seeing that I accidently walked past the Big House. Within seconds, I got spotted: ‘Nico?’

I stopped walking. Dionysus, clearly. 

‘So it’s you.’ He stood up. ‘Are you going to stay there?’

How about it?

‘I’ve got chocolate milk.’

That changed things. ‘Why are you still awake?’ I asked, as I stepped onto the veranda. 

He stared at me. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘I could say the same.’

‘No, you can’t. It is my job to make sure my demigods stay healthy. That means mentally too.’

I sighed and fell back into a porch chair. ‘That’s mean.’

He sat down in a chair across from me. With a flick of his fingers, he made a glass of hot chocolate milk appear, with whipped cream. ‘Now, Nico. What is it that made you decide to take a walk at night?’

‘Will you believe me if I say that the Ares kids were having a brawl?’

‘No.’

I sighed and took a sip of my chocolate milk, before putting the glass down next to me. ‘I had bad dreams. Or... I don’t know if they were really bad.’

‘Bad or not, they made you uncomfortable.’

‘Yes.’ I fumbled with the sleeve of my jacket. 

He tilted his head. ‘Do you want to tell me what they were about? Or is it enough to say they were nasty?’

I wished I could say they were just nasty, nothing else. But no, I had to force myself to speak the truth: ‘It was about my mother.’

He didn’t reply, but rather silently coaxed me to go on. 

‘About my mother… like…’ I saw the shadows getting closer. Dionysus stuck out his hand. I grabbed it. ‘...like, I’ve had those before. I told you that.’

‘Hm-hm.’ 

‘It was one of the recurring dreams. We have to flee from something, but I can’t get away. Yet, this time… I could see the details of her face. And apparently, we had to flee from a fury.’

Dionysus was quiet for a few seconds. He squeezed my hand during that pause. ‘Before, you didn’t remember anything about your mother.’

I nodded. ‘And I didn’t know the situation, either.’

‘Did it scare you?’

‘No. Yes.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know… I don’t know why it is suddenly like this.’ 

‘Why you suddenly saw more than before?’

I nodded. ‘Alecto erased the memories I had of my mother. I don’t know why they are back now, but it makes me feel so…’ I waved my free hand around. 

‘I am sorry for the next question.’

‘Don’t pretend to be so,’ I sulked. 

‘Does it tear open old wounds, Nico?’

‘...what?’

‘You came to terms with the way it was, before. You came to terms with not knowing. Now, you got a glimpse of what it would be like to know your mother. It changes all of the things you previously came to terms with. Nico, that would make even the most stable person more than distraught.’

I stared at him with my mouth agape. He couldn’t tell me what I felt like, he couldn’t. I hadn’t thought of it myself yet.

‘I’ve seen a lot of this in the past years, Nico. It’s okay.’

‘Look what you did.’ Now the tears were streaming down my face. 

Dionysus stood up and the next moment I was crying into his sweater. Again. It almost made me rethink all of this therapy he had been giving me. 

‘I-I... Will I have to go through all the grief, all of it, again?’ I seriously didn’t know if I would survive that. 

‘That is a pretty big question. Why don’t you start small?’

‘What…’

‘Like, how can I calm myself down right now?’

I didn’t want to calm down. I wanted to scream and yell and be angry. 

‘If you don’t want to, then don’t. But don’t expect to be able to answer questions like the one you just asked.’

How unfair. That only made me cry harder. 

|

Slowly, the realisation began to set in that he might be right. It was really difficult to think like this, with tears streaming down my face. 

What did I learn again? Right. I took a deep breath, and then another one. Slowly, I sat back in my chair. Dionysus carefully let me go. 

‘Very well.’

‘I am afraid.’

‘That is understandable, Nico. No-one will blame you for that.’

I nodded a few times. ‘I still can’t think straight.’ I closed my eyes for a second. ‘What does it mean for me... do I… I don’t want to go back to grieving and being lost.’ Nausea rose up at the thought of going back to feeling the way I did back when I was fourteen. ‘I don’t…’

‘Nico?’

‘Hm?’ It was a sad little noise. 

‘You won’t go back to rock bottom. You know why?’

‘What is stopping me?’

‘I am.’ I fell quiet. ‘As I said at the very beginning of this conversation: It is my job to make sure you brats stay healthy. Do you honestly think I’d let you pull stunts like the ones you did before?’

I reached out to grab his hand again. ‘No.’ 

It was quiet for some time. ‘Do you want to talk about what you saw?’

‘That’s scary.’

‘Perhaps it’ll help you not to be afraid of the thought. It would be a shame if you began to associate your mother with bad things, not?’

Man… sure. ‘Well… she looked like my sister. More than she looked like me. Open eyes, brown skin, long eyelashes. And worried. She looked worried.’ I shrugged. ‘Yet, she was trying to comfort me.’

‘Hm. Why don’t you take some chocolate milk?’

As I did, I suddenly felt exhausted. ‘It went a little cold.’ Yet, it was still good. It tasted happy. 

I heard Dionysus snicker. ‘Do you think you can sleep, Nico? Or is it still too much, right now?’

All the adrenaline had soaked out of my body. ‘...perhaps sleep isn’t that bad of an idea.’

‘Thought so. And?’

‘Hm?’ I let go of his hand and got out of my chair. 

‘The next time you have a nightmare, come back.’

‘I’ll probably wander out again. So you can just drag me to the porch again.’

He sighed. ‘Keep going, Nico. You’ll pull through eventually.’

‘Thanks.’ 

I hopped off the porch. There were a lot of ghosts around, still. I only noticed that that meant I was holding my head up instead of looking down when I got to my cabin. 

A/N: Based on a post by @toomanystacksofbooks . You’re post was kind of an excuse to write one of these again :).

[chokemeanakin]

Bad Dream- Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader (angst + fluff)

Summary: Reader has a bad dream during a thunderstorm and goes to Anakin for help

WC: 2.2k

Masterlist

Reader it in ao3

You had fallen asleep to the distant grumbling of the sky. Weather reports had all pointed to a storm during the night, and although you were not afraid of thunder, you were inclined to sleep through it so you could catch up on some much needed rest. Unfortunately, your subconscious had other plans.

You’re not sure when the tossing and turning started, but it must have been around the same time your head was filled with disturbing images, dark scenarios, dreams that made your pulse race and your body break out into a cold sweat. It was one of those dreams where you felt like you were drowning in a box with no way out, running from something when your legs refused to move, trying to save someone but they were just out of reach. 

A deafening clap of thunder had you shooting upright in bed.

It took you a moment to realize where you were. The room was dark, the surroundings of your room illuminated in flickers as lightning flashed across the sky outside. Thick pellets of rain hammered against the windows, like millions of tiny pebbles attempting to break through the glass. 

While normally it would have calmed you, now it heightened your unease. The whole world seemed to groan in rage outside, and you were still desperately trying to pull yourself out of the frightening dream you just had. 

You were no stranger to nightmares-- you knew how to ground yourself after the particularly bad ones. But your fingers were too numb from gripping the bed sheets to feel anything else, your eyes unable to pick anything up but the eerie shadows in the corner of the room as irregular veins of lightning struck the ground, ears deafened by the rain and rumbling of the storm. Your head felt like it had been doused in lava, heart pounding in your chest. You were trapped, being swallowed up by darkness, falling back into that dream, back into that nightmare--

Another clap of thunder had the wall decorations shaking and you shooting to your feet, heading toward the door. You weren’t sure where you were planning on going, just that you had to get out of there before you suffocated for real. Peals of thunder followed you into the living area, unrelenting and loud enough to make your ears ring. The glass decorations on the windowsill rattled with tension, bright white flashes causing spots to form in your vision. You could barely hear yourself think, and a very real fear that the sky was actually opening up and falling down had you bolting for your door, heading across the hall of the Jedi temple to Anakin’s room.

You wandered through his living space on unsteady legs, falling into furniture and tripping over chairs in the dark. With each explosion of thunder, you sunk deeper into yourself, hugging your arms around your middle and bracing for impact. His door was cracked open an inch, and you nudged it open wider so that you could slip into the room.

You weren’t even sure he would be in here. He often worked late into the night, running around the temple halls, working on his starfighter, or deployed on a mission. If worse came to worse, you were just planning on sleeping in his sheets like you did when you missed him… except when you approached the bed, he was in it, and he was fast asleep.

You studied his face between flashes of light. He looked peaceful, face relaxed and breathing even. How he could sleep through a monstrosity of a storm like this, you would never know… especially since he usually wasn’t a very deep sleeper. He must have been beyond exhausted after his Jedi duties today if he wasn’t waking up, especially sensing your troubled presence nearby, and it only made you feel worse for disturbing his rest. But before you could work up the courage to leave, his eyebrows twitched, lips twisting into a frown before his eyes fluttered open. 

Upon seeing you, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, blanket slipping down to reveal his bare chest. He squinted at you, still very much half asleep but reaching to take your hand in his anway. 

“Wh’s wrong?” 

You suddenly felt very childish. How were you supposed to complain of a nightmare to Anakin Skywalker, the literal king of terrifying prophetic dreams? What would he think of you if he knew you had come running to him because a simple thunderstorm had spooked you? What was he even supposed to do about it anyway?

Your hesitance worried him, so he reached out with the force to gage your emotions. Scared, uneasy, disturbed-- but not so much of the furious storm overhead, but of something else, something deeper. You had been shaken to the core, tormented by something that left your mind restless and body quivering in his touch. He had had enough experience to know exactly what was going on.

“Bad dream?”

You ducked your head to study your bare feet, ashamed. “The thunder doesn’t help.”

“C’mere,” he scoot across the bed, peeling back the covers for you to get in. You crawled into his bed clumsily, collapsing onto the pillows as he tucked them back up over you. The rain was still pounding mercilessly into the windows, the sky waging armageddon, but the pillows smelled like Anakin and he was right next to you, a formidable, calming presence despite the warzone outside. 

He immediately gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and resting his cheek on top of your head. You breathed in his scent, basking in his warmth. All of the fear and worries from the storm outside seemed to melt away. All that was left was the incessant reminders of your disturbing dream, replaying in your mind as if on a tape-reel. Every time you tried to close your eyes, to relax fully into Anakin and let him just hold you in his strong arms, the images would come back. It had you pent up with frustration, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep like Anakin seemed to be doing again, but you just couldn’t. You were too afraid that you might slip back into that dark place, and have to relive what had plagued your mind before.

You felt Anakin’s head lift off yours. He studied you for a moment, eyebrows drawn down in concern.

“Alright, come with me. We’re going on an adventure.”

You watched Anakin unwrap himself around you and then get out of bed, waiting for you to do the same. Slowly, you pushed yourself back onto your feet, taking the hand he held out for you and letting him lead you into the kitchen. He motioned for you to sit at one of the chairs of the island, and then left you there to reach into the cupboard and retrieve a couple of mugs. 

“Tea? Tea is your idea of an adventure?” You teased, spinning slightly on the spinny chair.

“When it’s 3am the roof is about to cave in because of a storm, yes. It’s an adventure.” 

He flicked the oven on and a flame burst out of the stovetop. He placed the tea kettle on top, then lazily waved his hand in the air to call the teabags over to him. Then he leant his forearms against the counter, bowing his head and yawning as he waited for the water to heat up.

You felt terrible for keeping him awake.

“I can make the tea,” you offered, and he lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at you. “So you can go back to bed, I mean.”

A sudden boom of thunder clapped overhead, shaking the walls and causing you to flinch involuntarily. He looked at the ceiling as this happened, listening to the aching sky grumble an apology for the attack. 

“And sleep through a storm like this? Now that’d be a shame.” 

You knew he was only saying this for your sake, and you loved him for it. Still, it didn’t ease the guilt you felt as you watched him take the whistling kettle off the flame, pouring it into the mugs with one hand while rubbing his eye with the other. 

“Don’t feel guilty, my love. I’m more than willing to stay up with you if you can’t sleep.”

“You must be exhausted though,” you accepted the mug he held out for you. 

“I’m alright.”

You pouted. The temple shuddered with another round of explosive claps of thunder, lightning flickering through the blinds. Suddenly the low hum of the space heaters went silent, and a foreboding click sounded as everything shut down. 

“Did the power just go out?” You eyed the blank screen of the microwave, where it used to show the time.

“Good timing,” he handed you honey for your tea. “Don’t worry, it should be back on by morning. The temple maintenance workers are more than prepared for stuff like this.”

“I’m not worried… just surprised. It’s a very violent storm, isn’t it?” 

He nodded, thumbing the rim of his mug. His deep breaths, the slow blinks, the slurred words. He was about to fall asleep standing up, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do something about it.

“Let’s go to the couch,” you suggested, and pushed yourself off the spinny chair. He followed you into the living area, sitting next to you as you curled up into his side again, hugging the mug between your hands and letting the steam melt across your face. Instinctively, he put his arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked after a moment, staring out the rain-spattered window at the blurry city lights below. “Your dream I mean?”

“I… can’t really remember it anymore,” you answered truthfully. The longer you stayed awake, the more the dream slipped from your memory. A blessing, only tainted by the feelings it left in its wake. The fear and dread remained, though the dream in itself was gone. 

“It bothers you still.” 

“Only a little,” you took a sip of your tea. “But this is nice.”

Lightning shot across the sky, reaching its hands out like it was searching for something across the horizon. More tendrils branched out in every direction, crawling across the skyline and illuminating the room in a pale blue light. You counted the seconds until the thunder hit: 1...2...3… 

“Storm’s right overhead,” Anakin noted, thumb stroking the skin of your arm.

“It better not kill us.”

“I won’t let it kill you,” he chuckled deeply. 

“You won’t let it?” You pulled back to look at him. “I hate to break it to you, but I think Mother Nature does what she wants.” 

“You forget, I control an important part of nature.” 

Your mug lifted from your fingers suddenly, floating into his hand instead. He took a sip of your tea, winking lazily. 

“Hey,” you laughed, reaching for your mug as he held it over his head with a teasing smile. You were too tired to fight him for it though, so you rolled your eyes with mock exasperation, holding his chin steady so you could kiss him instead. 

His lips were pliant beneath yours, and tasted sweet like the honey. You licked the taste off of them, and his arm lowered without him realizing it so he could focus on the feel of you. You took the opportunity to grab your mug back, pulling away before he could realize what you’d done.

“Dirty tactic,” he mused. “I’d even go as far as to say… cheater.”

“Yeah, yeah, like you don’t use your fancy Jedi tricks to peek at my deck every time we play cards.” 

“You have no proof.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you finish your tea, setting it down on the coffee table before you and nuzzling your head back into Anakin’s neck. “So it’s only fair that you cut me some slack.” 

“Just this once,” he appeased, tilting his head so that it was resting on yours again.

You felt much better now than you had before. As the storm came to a head, Anakin held you through it. It was impossible to be frightened of the loud noises and sinister peals of lightning when he was holding you. The sluggish funk that the nightmare had left you with also faded away, and all that was left was the scent of Anakin, the feel of his warm skin beneath your cheek, and the taste of him on your lips. Before long, you had nodded off on his shoulder. 

He stayed awake until he was certain you were sleep, watching the raindrops race each other down the window pane. Shortly after the space heaters powered back to life, he turned his head to see your eyes closed, lips slightly parted, fast asleep against him. Carefully, he shifted you into his arms so that he could carry you back to bed without you waking.

Although he was beyond the point of exhaustion, he slept better than ever that night knowing you were beside him, safe in his embrace and contentedly resting now that your fears had been washed away. A few hours of missed sleep was worth it if it meant making sure you would be okay, and he knew that you would do the same for him without a doubt.

[octalove]

Back Then

(Batsis/Jason Todd/Dick Grayson)

Description: Reader’s little brother is having some trouble adjusting to his new life. Sad toward the end.

The sun was bashfully hiding behind some thin gray clouds, not unusual for any given afternoon. Leaning against my still-warm black Maybach 57, I tried not to grow impatient. “Maybe he joined an after school activity.” Dick mumbled through the Twix bar I’d picked up for him at the vending machine during lunch. He was sitting in the front seat, with the window rolled down, listening to Adele. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Jason Peter Todd would rather be skinned than join an after school activity. Still, though, Gotham Preparatory School for Boys had let out eleven minutes ago, and most of the other boys had gotten into their parent’s cars and sped away to their uptown abodes. Dick and I had come straight from Gotham Academy, punctual as usual, so as to avoid a folly of disapproving glares from dad and Alfred at dinner tonight. Where the hell was that kid?

“Maybe he ran away. Joined the circus.” Dick tried again. “Maybe I’m gonna put you in a circus.” “Back in a circus.” He corrected with a grin. Finally, at 4:15, Jason emerged from the school’s artfully carved wooden doors. His head was bowed, dark hair sticking up in all different directions, brow furrowed. He looked small in his school uniform, plaid socks and disheveled blazer. He hugged a book to his chest. A leathery hand lay on his shoulder, attached to a spindly man in his late 50’s, with receding salt and pepper hair, and golden oval glasses perched on his beak-like nose. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, and upon spotting me, the man turned pale as a ghost, just as Jason looked up to reveal a purple bruise under his eye. He snapped his gaze back down. Dick quickly assessed the situation as well, and hopped out of the car, standing equal to me at a solid 5’8, but with all the toned muscle of a gymnast since walking age. We were about to play good cop bad cop- me, the polite, sophisticated elder sister who didn’t want to involve her egregiously powerful father, unless provoked by lack of cooperation, and Dick, the ill-tempered 15-year-old brother ready to raise hell if he didn’t get a good idea of what the fuck happened.

“Headmaster Ellison.” I said tersely, smoothing out my Gotham Academy uniform. I was thoroughly familiar with him from Dick’s days at the prep school- he’d called him Headmaster Hellison, and had a catalogue of grievances as long as his list of unfinished assignments.

“Ah, Miss Wayne. You look lovely today.” I had to steel my face into something vaguely agreeable, because even though it appeared he was the one afraid of me, I was 17 and in a schoolgirl skirt, and something about getting complimented by old men always skeeved me.

“What happened?” I cut right to the point, deciding small talk might soften my resolve, and I was in the mood for this to piss me off.

“Well, you see, we had a small incident today-“

“It’s okay! Can we go home?” Jason piped up abruptly and nervously, eyes pleading with me to let it go. Unfortunately, Waynes skewed toward long grudges.

“Come here, let me see.” I said more softly. Stiffly, Jason trudged across the neatly cut grass, still avoiding my eye. The bruise itself wasn’t bad, but I could tell it had just begun to bloom.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. “Jason has been encountering some problems with some of the other boys. This wouldn’t be the first incident, but it did escalate this time-“

“Not the first incident?” I clipped.

“It never got physical before, just some small verbal altercations that we easily handled.”

“Obviously they weren’t handled.” It was Dick’s turn to interrupt. It always struck me how he could make his voice go from lazily playful to stark and authoritative, biting off words almost as effectively as dad. Who needed Batman and Robin when Y/N Wayne and Dick Grayson were on the case?

“Please, can we just go? I’m okay, honest.” Jason begged, grabbing my hand and tugging just a little. His bronzed face was all swollen and puffy- not just from the fight. I could tell his eyes were rimmed with red. But he looked at me with all the determination and bravado of a street rat from Gotham, and my heart always bled for him in that regard. I sighed.

“Well, I have violin practice here shortly, Headmaster Ellison, so I’m going to take my brother home,” I bit off the brother part with a special zeal to emphasize that Jason Todd, no matter his name or background, was a Wayne, and I was his reminder. “And my father will be calling this evening to handle it once he gets off work.” Work that includes being able to liquidize this whole school right into his bank account in the time it takes to send an email.

“Get in, Jason.” I said. He did.

After a silent ride home, in which Dick tried to coax the full story out of an increasingly moody Jason, we arrived back at the manor whereupon I briefed Alfred, concerned, supportive, and called dad, exasperated, quiet. I let my little brother stew in his room until later that night, when I finally got tired of waiting him out and knocked on the door.

“Jaybird.” I cooed softly.

“…”

“Jay. If I open this door and you’re not there, I will set up the largest manhunt this city has ever witnessed.”

“I’m okay.” A quiet voice called back, sounding annoyed.

“May I come in?” I asked.

“…”

“…”

“Ok.”

I cracked the door open. He was balled up in his window nook, engrossed in a book. The room was dark, and he was reading with a flashlight, which was really unnecessary because he had about a dozen lamps, including a really cool lava lamp that Dick had gotten him. He’d changed out of his uniform and into pants and a hoodie, his hood pulled over with the strings pulled taut. He glanced down at the keys in my hand, narrowing his eyes.

“Come on.” I said.

“Where?”

“You haven’t eaten since you got home, kiddo.” His gaze fell askance. When it came to Jason, food was the way to ensure the answer was yes, whatever the question was.

“Can you bring me back something?” He grumbled quietly after a moment. I shook my head.

“I’m going to Sherman’s. Dine in only. One time offer.” I said with a smile. He frowned.

“I don’t wanna talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce isn’t coming. Just you and me. And we don’t even have to talk.” After some consideration, he pulled himself from his nook and brushed past me on his way out. I grinned to myself. Too easy.

Sherman’s Diner was the finest restaurant experience in Gotham City. The reflection of the neon lights skewed across puddles which danced with the drizzling rain. Fuchsia, cyan, lime green, red. Cracked white tiles and a sign with Sherman himself; a little plump chef man who, despite his jovial countenance and enthusiastic smile, appeared to be weeping tears of rust. Inside, the floor was unswept, the tables a bit sticky from all the no-show teenage staff of the payroll, and one of the lights above a lonely booth flickered. Jason loved it. The waitresses loved him.

“Come on in and sit down, hun, we’ll get ya some coffee!” A blonde woman called from behind the counter. One thing about Gothamites and Diners, black coffee was a 24/7 ordeal; 9pm on a school night was no exception. I let Jason pick the booth- he usually went for the same one, creature of habit that he was. We slid into the cool, torn red leather and neither of us needed to look at the menu. We sipped our coffees quietly for a while- Jason pretending to like it because it was the worldly thing to do. He’d never admit that he only started after he saw that dad and I always passed on sugar and cream.

It seemed our little evening standoff was going to bleed into the night. I took it as an opportunity to show him how patient I could be when necessary. The waitress- Darcy- set down a small slice of Oreo cake on the table. For him. Finally, he sighed, taking a bite of it.

“I hate school.” He mumbled.

“The school? Or the kids?” He didn’t answer. “What happened, Jay? Last week you loved school.”

“I like English.” He offered.

“Jason.” I said, leaning forward and folding my hands on the table. Food hadn’t worked. Patience was out the window. It was time to apply pressure. “If you don’t tell me who hit you, I, on my honor as a Wayne, am obligated to track down every snotty little boy who ever set foot in Gotham Prep and hit their snotty little faces to see how they like it.”

Jason’s lips tugged into a smile, which he fought, and eventually lost. So he hid it behind his cake. But after a minute, his smile fell. Something else crossed his face and he looked out the window.

“I hit first.” He said quietly. Solemnly. I blinked at him, surprised.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Jared Mullins. I hit him first.”

“Why?”

He sniffed, furrowing his brow to try and fool me into believing he was something tougher than a ten year old boy. Maybe he was. Tougher than the likes of whoever the hell Jared Mullins was. “He said…”

I waited.

“He said I was poor. Said I don’t belong at the school. That Bruce only took me in cause he felt sorry for me.”

“Sounds like he deserved to get hit.” I sipped my coffee. He didn’t smile again. A beat passed in its place.

“I don’t know why I hit him.”

“Because it was a stupid thing to say.” He shook his head.

“That’s not it. He was right.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Jason! The fuck he was. You know that’s not true.” Alfred would’ve been appalled to have me cuss in front of him, as if it wasn’t a large majority of his vocabulary since before he came to the manor.

“You don’t get it.” He said, eyes glued to the rain on the window. “You’re his daughter. His real daughter.”

“And Dick isn’t his real son?” Dick was usually the one to advise him when his legitimacy came into question, not me. Because in truth, I didn’t understand. Jason didn’t answer the question. A plate of chicken tenders and fries appeared, but they went untouched.

“Look at me please.” He did.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not dad’s real son. And it definitely doesn’t matter that Jared whoever the hell thinks so or not. Dad took you in because of who you are, and everything you’re going to be. You belong in this family and wherever else you go, because you’re worthy of everything Gotham has to offer- and more.”

Jason’s face crumpled a little before he composed himself, blinking fast and wrestling with the emotion. He didn’t say thanks, but that was thanks enough.

“Hey. Did you see how scared Headmaster Hellison was?” I asked smugly.

A small smile. “Yeah.”

“That’s because you’re one of us. And we scare the piss out of people like him and Jared Mullins. Cause we’re a damn good family.”

Jason smiled at me. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

*

People like us

I watched- all I could do was watch. There was no way in hell I could stop him. The Jason that stood before me was 6’3 and impenetrable. Even if I thought I could get the gun from his hand, I wasn’t going to save anyone. The only thing about himself he kept when he drug himself out of the grave was his stubborn conviction. Anyone he wanted dead would wind up that way.

Scare the piss out of people like him.

The man let out a guttural, desperate noise as he tried to crawl away, pale as a ghost as Jason stood over him. He was a criminal, to be sure, but not one willing to die for his trade. Evidently, that wasn’t enough.

Cause we’re a damn good family.

“Red Hood! Stand down, now.” Batman’s voice snarled, echoing off of the concrete walls and floor. I flinched. Jason didn’t. A single shot, blood spatter, all the rest. His red monochrome helmet was on the ground, black hair all mussed and disheveled from the fight. A bruise was blooming under his eye.

His gaze flicked up, landing on me. Any trace, any remnant of my brother was gone. The man who came back was a dejected, solemn thing, who carried this dark look in his eye and looked like he could eat me whole. I tried to convey something to him with my eyes. It didn’t appear to take effect.

“You’re late to the party.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and he turned his attention to Batman.

I tried not to let my voice shake as I stepped forward.

“We’re here now.” I said.

His jaw clenched at the sound of my voice. Something grim passed his features.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

[starforgednegativespace]

Part One: Animus

I had been on Animus less than a stellar day and already felt like I'd been gargling with lava. Even within the relative shelter of Rampart, the planet-side mining complex where I'd come to meet my contact, the air was barely breathable. Decades of disrepair had left the air scrubbers barely functioning; apparently the locals were used to it, but even the recycled air on Rune Song tasted how I imagine a cool summer breeze would taste by comparison.

In the warm rain, Rampart's wide streets, asphalt peppered with sickly coloured dust, shone under flickering neon lights from overhanging signs for drug bars, pubs and brothels; everything a miner risking their lives and health could want. I walked through the darkening streets, hands jammed firmly in the pockets of my deep red flight suit, one hand gripping the barely functioning bolt pistol in my left pocket, concealed under the bulk of my belt pouches and rain-slicked overcoat. I was tired. Being a spacer, you have to deal with local times being different in settlements than the ship time your body gets used to, and right now I should've been wrapped up in my bunk aboard Rune Song letting the Six-Ten-Ten handle things, but instead I had planet under my feet and an early evening appointment I had no right to be keeping to keep. I stifled a yawn, pushed my rain-soaked mauve hair back from my face with my free hand, and pushed open the door of Kenji's saloon.

The saloon air was warm and smelled like stale liquor and just the faintest hint of the pervasive toxicity of Animus. Behind the bar, a bent-out-of-shape old timer with sharp, angular features and a bad prosthetic arm was pouring liquor for grim faced miners, while a couple of disinterested looking girls wearing revealing outfits which showed the toxic scarring on their thighs and collars pulled silver from eager locals for games of Traust. Some patrons gave me a quick look, and few looked long as I entered, turning back to their drinks and gambling, muttered conversations lost under the distorted electronic jazz sputtering from the jukebox in the corner. I opened my jacket, shook some rainwater from it, and scanned the room. Over in the opposite corner from the jukebox, sitting alone with a pair of drinks, was Shepherd. She nodded, full lips curling slightly into what you'd charitably call a smile, motioning for me to go over. I scanned the room again; none of the people here looked like Ikaro's goons, and none of them had the air of mercenaries about them. My grip on the bolt pistol relaxed, and I headed to her table, dropping into the worn synthetic-leather booth opposite her.

"Kiri Quint, in the flesh" she purred, raising a slightly grubby glass to me. "How long's it been?"

"Too long, Shepherd" I replied, courteous as I could muster, and reached for the second glass. Her hand slapped mine away. "Sorry, I assumed..."

"The good liquor doesn't come cheap round these parts," she shot back. "I'm sure Kenji has some forge-spawn piss the locals love so much with your name on it." She motioned to the bartender, then pointed to me. The bartender nodded and started pouring what I assumed was some cheap local faux-liquor into a plastic tumbler. Shepherd smiled that tight, half smile again. "It's on me."

"Still a saint, huh Shep?" I pulled the hip flask from my inner pocket, unscrewed it and took a pull of the burning liquor within. Shepherd's eyes narrowed. I offered her the flask. "This is the good stuff."

Shepherd declined the flask with a wave of an immaculately manicured hand.

"No offence, Cutter, but I don't know where you've been"

The bartender, Kenji I assume, brought the dirty plastic tumbler over, dropped it in front of me and grunted, eyes giving me the once over. He glanced at Shepherd like he was waiting to be dismissed, then slinked away when she continued to ignore him. I picked up the tumbler and sniffed it.

"Smells like hydraulic fluid. You trying to poison me, Shep?"

I forced a laugh, took a sip and grimaced.

"Always willing to try new things, huh?" Shep smirked and sipped her drink, long lashes fluttering slightly over the glass as her eyes stayed on me. I exhaled, stifled another yawn, and looked around the dingy tavern. I motioned with my finger.

"This yours?"

"Mostly. I have a controlling stake in operations on Rampart. With that comes, I guess you could call it a stewardship of the local entertainment. It's a symbiotic relationship."

"Oh, I get it, you pay the miners salaries then take it back through whatever means necessary?"

She smirked again.

"Pretty much, yes."

I took another sip from the dirty cup of cheap synthesized booze and fished around in one of the many pockets of my flight suit until I found the crumpled pack of nic-rods. I put it to my mouth and Shepherd, right on cue, was there with a light for me.

"Thanks." I blew stale smoke to the side. The nic-rods were old, and I barely smoked unless I was very, very tense; and right now I was just that. Shepherd had that way about her. Always had, even back when she was calling herself Hal and sporting a man's body.

"You're welcome. I know yours isn't working."

Rust-dammit

"You heard about that?"

Shit. Shit shit shit. If Shepherd knew, then that meant Ikaro probably knew, and if Ikaro knew...

"I like to keep tabs on my favourite Spacers. I have to admit, I was impressed when I heard our little Cutter was Ironsworn now." She put her drink down and lit a nic-rod of her own, blowing sweet-smelling smoke towards me. "Relax, Kiri. She doesn't know. Vlada Ikaro and I are no longer associates."

Associate was one way of putting it. Executive assistant to a blood-thirsty warlord was a more accurate description.

"Nobody leaves Ikaro" I said flatly. My hand slipped back into my pocket to make sure the gun was still there, my instinct to get up and run from this place was overwhelming. Cut and run at the first sign of trouble, like I always did. That's why they called me Cutter back then.

"You did. I never got the chance to tell you how much it amused me to learn that you took her cargo. Her ship too. The sheer audacity of it."

"I earned Rune Song."

"I'm sure you did. For what it's worth, Vlada and I parted company on rather better terms. We came to an amicable agreement."

"How much of your share in Rampart does she get?"

That was maybe too far. Shepherd sucked her teeth and put her glass down. Guess I hit a nerve. But my point still stood. Nobody leaves Ikaro. Not really. "Look, I was surprised to hear from you. I had no idea you were even in this sector, having a Herald track me down came as kind of a shock, not least of all because this whole set up seems a little unglamorous for your tastes."

She seemed to loosen up a little.

"You'd be surprised; far end of town there are some really rather lovely subterranean apartments. Clean air, access to all the best shipments, the works. And far less getting my hands dirty in the process than organising wet-work for Vlada Ikaro. No, I do well here."

"Here's to moving on." I raised my cup and drained it. "Now, why don't you tell me why you asked me here?"

Shepherd raised her glass, took a sip, and stubbed the half-smoked nic-rod out in a copper ashtray.

"I need a courier. Someone capable"

I narrowed my eyes

"You have silver to pay for Heralds who can track me down, why not use one of them?"

She smiled that slight, tight smile again.

"The Heralds share information. I need someone who can afford to be more discreet. Someone who would get the job done no matter what..." Wait for it...  "Someone Ironsworn."

There it was

"Why all the secrecy, Shep? What's the job?"

Shepherd's eyes lit up like she couldn't wait to tell me some wild secret. She leaned in close, so close I could smell the expensive booze on her breath.

"You want to know why I picked this world to settle on? Why someone like me would choose to cool their heels in a rusty mining colony on a toxic shithole like Animus?" I nodded. " Let me ask you this, Kiri, when you were landing here, did your nav-com take you on an unusual trajectory?"

"Yeah, I figured atmospheric disturbances or something. It's not uncommon for a world like this"

"No. Port control have orders to steer ships away from a particular region of near space. You see, up there..." she pointed upwards. "Orbiting right above our heads, just out of atmo... is a fucking precursor vault."

By Iron, I swore. I unscrewed the cap of my hip flask and took a long pull. Precursor vaults were scattered throughout The Forge; unimaginably ancient relics from a long-dead race of technologically advanced beings who once ruled this region of space. Rumours of tombs filled with relics of incredible power and technology were common among spacers. Some people thought they were myths, but those people had never flown the drift and seen the horrors of the forge up close.

"What's the job?"

"I need you to take some cargo to Paradox Station at Hera, I have a contact there who'll give you the co-ordinates to a deep-space research station where the cargo goes. A simple delivery job with a stop-over, but it's long distance and I need someone I can trust and someone with an Eidolon Drive. And if I recall, Rune Song is equipped with such a drive..."

I nodded again and stubbed the nic rod out.

"That kind of distance is gonna cost, Shep. At least -"

"Twenty thousand silver, ten up front, ten on completion."

Twenty thousand silver was a lot of money for a simple cargo run. More than double what I was going to ask, and what I was going to ask was double what the job was worth. There was a lot I didn't trust about this whole situation, but Rune Song needed repairs and I was down to my last few silver. Shit, it was worth it.

"What's the cargo?" I asked.

[lostinornes]

And They Were Roommates

A/N

So I have started rewatching New Girl again, and it has just inspired a world of ideas. So please enjoy. Bucky x Sam x Reader. Minor swearing. Teen + Audience.

The alarm buzzed aggressively, the high-pitched screech ringing through your ears and forcing your body to move in the bed. With a heavy yawn, your arm lazily danced across the bedside table. Finally stopping when it found the source, your fingers gripping the phone and finally stopping the noise. Your eyes squinted towards the glaring screen, a few messages from the previous night waiting to be read greeted you, as well as a missed call from an unknown number and a couple of notifications from tinder. Glancing at the time, it was 7 am. Far too early to reply to your friends, let alone random people who you would most likely end up never replying to again. Your hand dropped the phone onto the sheets, your body taking one final stretch before moving to your feet. Sluggishly you moved across to your drawers, pulling out some underwear for the day. Allowing you to begin your morning adventure to the shared bathroom.

Your hand slapped against the shower, forcing the object to spring to life. You decided to brush your teeth first, allowing the water to warm up before forcing yourself into it. “Bucky! Sam! Bathroom Now!” You shouted, throwing your brush down into the sink. You listened to the noises shuffling around the apartment. A few annoyed grunts, doors slamming and finally muffled “What did you do” being shouted by both men.

“Are you crazy? Its 7am, only crazy people shout at 7am!” Bucky huffed, folding his arms across his body. You could tell he had only recently gone to sleep, his eyes heavy with bags. His lower half was covered in pyjama bottoms and his top in a loosely zipped up hoodie. “Who left hair removal cream, next to the toothpaste! They look the same” You held both of the bottles towards the two men. “I could have lost my teeth” You dramatically hissed towards them both. Their bodies recoiling at your words. “I don’t think it works like that?” Sam questioned with a laugh. He had clearly been up for a while. He was dressed in his training gear, and his water bottle half empty already. “I. Could. Have. Lost. My. Teeth” You stressed the point to the pair of them. Almost willing them to just confess now. “Sam said it helps him go faster” Bucky blurted out. Sam’s hand swiftly smashing itself against the others chest. “Shut up. That’s private” Sam snapped at him, smacking him again. “Plus, Bucky asked me to do his back yesterday. It’s his fault”

“Shut up” Bucky shoved his shoulder into Sam, causing Sam’s body to collide with the door frame. A heavy bang created against his landing. You threw the tube of cream towards the pair, snapping them out of their argument. “Well whoever it was, just clean up after yourselves. Now leave” You pointed your finger towards the door, your eyes watching as the pair shuffled away.

After your shower, you quickly threw together an outfit for the day. You didn’t really have any plans, since it was the weekend. But you liked routine, and wanted to feel like you had some form of structure for the day. You let your feet lead you towards the open plan kitchen living room. The apartment had a large sofa, which could comfortable seat around eight people. A coffee table sat in front, which was regularly used as a foot stool and across from that a TV Bucky had managed to get for free hung on the wall. Just behind the sofa and slightly to the left sat the kitchen. There was a large wooden island in the centre of the area, a few stools tucked neatly underneath it. A fridge stood in the corner by Bucky’s bedroom door. The name tag “Steve” thoughtfully written across the front of the metal object. You grabbed your cereal box from the top shelf and a bowl from the cupboard below. Balancing them both against your chest, as you moved to the island.

You sat quietly chewing away, your finger scrolling down your phone as you shoved more food into your mouth. You let your eyes leave the phone, as you heard the bedroom door click open. “Since I can’t sleep because of you, I am having some of your cereal” Bucky huffed, grabbing the box from the counter and pouring some dry into his mouth. “Wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t spend so much time on your hair care and less time on cleaning up after yourself” You cocked your head towards the sink, piled high with mugs and cups from Bucky’s room. “I’m getting to it” He shrugged back, pouring another mouthful in. “What are your plans today?” “Nothing really. I’ve been asked to go out for drinks tonight, but I’m not too sure” You went back to your phone, your eyes rereading a message from someone on tinder. You didn’t really want anything serious right now, but also you were bored and just wanted some attention. If it came with free drinks surely it wouldn’t be too bad? “Wow, you have a date. Good job” Bucky’s hand slapped against your shoulder. Your lips forming a small “Ow”. Sometimes the man with a metal arm forgot just how strong he was. Bucky and Sam had seen you at your relationship highs and lows. Just like you had with them. When you got dumped Bucky sat and watched the whole of the twilight saga with you. He didn’t even moan about how ridiculous the wolves looked. Whereas Sam taught himself dance routines to try and cheer you up. When Sam got ghosted by the girl he had been talking to for 5 months, you and Bucky took him out and got him so drunk he forgot his own name. There was also the time Bucky decided it was time to date again, only to be catfished. So, you and Sam created a whole new drinking game based in the apartment. A mixture of the floor is lava and nominations. “It’s not a date as such…” You turned your phone to Bucky showing him the persons profile. “Just a couple of drinks” You watched as he snatched the phone from your hand, his finger scrolling through the photos. “Really” He asked, holding a group photo in your face. The photo was a group of six people dressed as farm animals, all downing their drinks. “You must be lonely”

“Jheez thanks Buck” You took the phone back off him, and picked up your bowl. You pushed passed him, dropping your bowl into the sink. “You can clean that as well now” You sung back towards him. His eyes glared towards you, keeping full eye contact as poured more cereal into his mouth.

You decided to go tonight. It was only the bar across the street, if anything too serious happened you could easily run away. Plus, if the worse came to worse, you could just shout out the door and Sam and Bucky would be over there in a second. You didn’t make too much of an effort with your outfit. A pair of jeans and a nice shirt hanging off of your shoulders. Your hair just fell naturally, and your face was lightly dusted in makeup. Just enough to give you that extra boost of confidence. A pair of boots sat on your feet, you had made sure they were comfortable enough for you to be able to run away if you had to. “Look at you” Sam whistled as you opened your bedroom door. His body rested against his door frame. “Who’s the lucky person?” “Just a random tinder date” You shrugged, pulling your door shut behind you. “Wait a second” Sam slipped into his room. The sound of fast movements coming from behind the door, before he returned to his previous position. “Be safe” You fumbled as you caught the object he threw in your direction. A small purple latex square glaring at your face, as Sam started to laugh. “Thanks, I’ll use your bed” You smiled back, shoving the condom into your purse. “I would say don’t wait up… but wait until I text please” He just nodded, firing a thumbs up towards you. The bar was nothing spectacular. It was dimly lit, with booth tables scattered around the floor. There was a large wooden bar which covered the centre of the room. The bathrooms sat on either side of the object. You let your eyes scan around the room for your date, a slight sigh of relief when you realised you were there first. Walking over to the bar, you let your body drop onto a stool. Ordering yourself a drink, as you constantly watched your phone. A slight twinge of excitement shooting up your spine, as you saw a message flash up.

Bionic Man 20:08 pm

Where is my jacket?

You rolled your eyes and ignored the message. Continuing to sip on your drink, as you carried on waiting.

Bionic Man 20:20pm

This date must be amazing if you are ignoring my serious issues.

You were now onto your second drink, still waiting for your date to arrive. You opened up tinder, releasing maybe it was time to message them. But when you opened the app you were greeted with something that caused confusion. The person you had arranged the date with was no longer there. The messages no longer existed and the profile was no longer visible to you. You heart sinking as you realised you had been stood up. You didn’t really want the date. Of course, you didn’t. But it still hurt to not be good enough for someone to want to meet up with. You downed your drink and locked your phone again. Holding the glass up, as you waited for another refill. “Right I am sorry to interrupt” Your head turned towards the man storming towards you. Your eyes meeting Bucky’s. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting dark t-shirt. His hair was slightly slighted and his facial shaped more than it had been recently. “Oh, where is your date? Are they in the bathroom?” “No, just me” You span around dramatically, your hands indicating towards the empty seats either side of you. “What are you so dressed up for?” “Oh well Sam has gone out. So, I decided to go out, you know give this whole meeting new people thing a chance” He stood behind you, looking down on you as you finished another drink. “Do you want a drink? Or do you have to go?”

“Are you buying?” His mouth twisted into a smile, as he moved to the seat next to you. “No, I thought you would buy a drink for the heart broken person” You squeezed your eyes together hoping to push out a few tears, resting your head against his shoulder. Quickly Bucky shoved you away, trying to gain the bartenders attention.

“I don’t buy drinks for sad people” He laughed ordering himself a beer. “This is why you don’t get dates” You huffed, squinting your eyes at him. His mouth releasing a laugh at your reaction. When the bartender returned, he passed your glass back over to him. “My point still stands” You teased back, taking the drink.

“No, I don’t get dates because I spend all my time looking after you” His finger poked into your side, as he took a drink from his beer. “Me” Your hand slapped against your chest in shock. “I think it’s the other way around” “Is that so?” His eyebrow raised, as he shuffled closer to you. His shoulder resting against yours. “Look since I moved in with you, my dating life is non-existent. I thought living with a literal wingman, I would be having a great time!”

“I have been frozen, an assassin and now I’m years older than everyone in this time …and you think you are having a bad time dating?”

“Yes” You replied back, shoving against him. “I do”

“Right, well if that’s how you feel. I am going to leave you to wallow in yourself pity” Bucky took one last long drink from his bottle. His hands rested against the bar, as he began to push himself away. “If you leave me now, you will have to deal with me crying tomorrow. Do you really want that? Do you?”

His hands quickly dropped from the bar, and back to his bottle. A slight smile on his mouth as he held the drink towards you. “It’s still half full you idiot. Now are you buying this round, or are you going to make a war veteran spend all of his money to fill that void in your chest”