#Hot Tub or Bust

[punkrockmixtapes]

Pkew Pkew Pkew - Hot Tub Or Bust (Official Video)

[loamsome]

Hnngguh it's so fucking hot out

[redheadspark]

Fifth Floor Prt. 2

Summary - You and Oliver take full advantage of the Prefect's Bathroom

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, 18+ ONLY!

Part two of Fifth Floor

It surprised you: one minute you two were kissing and now you two were together in the bath on the throes of pleasure.

Both you and Oliver were not going to slow down as soon as you cast the charm along the door and walls into the Prefects Bathroom.  The pent-up feelings you two kept to yourselves over the past few years since you graduated were now pouring out to one another, like a busted open dam.  Yet it felt like it was right, stripping each other's clothes off while kissing and giggling.  The serious tones of being consumed by one another never masked the playfulness either, which was almost a reflection of your relationship with one another anywho: serious and yet light.  Of course, you were baffled when Oliver perched you on the edge of the tub that was now filled to the brim with hot water mixed with scented and enchanted bubbles.  

His boldness came through as he gently pushed your legs open and licked into your folds like he was a starving student at a Feast.

Intense hot pleasure came through you ten told as he was between your legs, thankful that you could be as loud as you wanted since no one outside the room could hear your activities together.  Yet it made Oliver persistent, listening to the cues on where to lick and where to kiss along your folds and inside your cunt.  Almost like a devoted student, taking notes and knowing what makes you come undone and what made you whimper and writhe.  You were unraveling in seconds since it's been some time since you had something like this with someone, his fingers gliding along your folds when he felt you shaking and close to orgasm.  No matter how long you tried to hold out, it was closer than you thought.  

Seeing him in front of you, his head between your shaking legs and his back muscles glistening and contracting made your head swim all the more.  All of those times practicing and playing Quidditch was showing in his muscles along his backside and his arms.  He memorized you, even with him giving gentle kitten licks along your sensitive clit.  It made you fall back against the marble floor, moving your hips and trying to prolong the orgasm that was coming so fast.  

Up right before you broke, you placed your hands in his brown tuffs of hair and felt your body move without your knowledge, rolling your hips into his face and finally feeling him suck your clit.

You fell with a howl, and Oliver thought of you as a gorgeous siren. 

After a good moment or two of you calming yourself down, of Oliver watching you with wide eyes and a small glimmer of liquid on his chin and lips, you grinned widely like a Cheshire Cat at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting posting.  Sinking into the water and feeling the temperature engulf your now sensitive skin, you sighed and moaned at the same time as you turned him around and made him lean against the bathtub wall.  He went willingly, you pressing a hand against his hard and toned chest as he was how against the bathtub wall with nowhere else to go.

Slowly and without breaking eye contact with him, you reached your other hand down beneath the bubbles and felt his cock.  Hard, a bit large for your hand to wrap all around, but it felt perfect in your hand as you gripped him tightly.  Oliver inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide and his breath shaking as you started stroking him off under the water.  

You never thought you would be in this kind of situation with your best friend, bringing in emended pleasure under the bubbles and water in a bathroom alone.  But it was also a dream come true, being in his arms and blissfully happy.  There would never be a right moment for something like this, Oliver reminded you of that moment before you both were in the throws of pleasure and lust like this. 

But it felt right now, getting Oliver off as he was manning and biting his lower lips with every twist of your hand and every squeeze of your fingers.  You could sense and see that he was trying not to be too loud, which seemed ironic since he made your moan crudely a moment before when he was licking into your cunt with vigor.  

It should be the same for him. 

You leaned up to kiss his neck and lick along his skin as your hand was moving a bit faster, feeling his hips shaking under the water and moving in sync with yours as his hands were gripping the sides of the tub, arms stretched out and his head thrown back.

"You can let it all out know you," You hummed against his jaw, kissing his neck once more with a bit of vigor as you pressed your bare chest against his, "No one will know we're in here, and they won't hear anything.  You sound gorgeous like this, Oli,"

"F-f-fuck!" He moaned aloud as you traced your thumb along the tip of his cock.  He was shaking, the water splashing the pair of you as you grinned wickedly and straddled one of his thighs.  The hard muscle against your still sensitive cunt made you moan against his neck as your other hand raked in his brown hair and pulled hair.  He moaned crudely, his head snapping back as you looked at his exposed neck and his trembling lips.  

He looked beyond gorgeous to you.

Before you could say anything to him to make him come undone as he did with you, he moved one of his gripped hands from the bathtub wall and placed it on your arm in a death grip, making you stop stroking him since you thought you did something wrong.  Your other hand released his hair, making his head snap back to look at you as you shot him a worried look.

"You okay?" You asked him, heading his labored breathing and how dilated his eyes were.  The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him or made this a bad experience, it would have pained you.  Maybe you were too harsh or this was too quick.  But he slowly grinned, his crimson lips and flushed cheeks should no sign of pain or uncomfortableness as you were searching his eyes.  He leaned forward, kissing you soundly and gently in the water, making you melt and release his cocked as you framed his face.

To share a gentle moment in the throws of love seemed far too much, yet not enough.  He kissed you gently and with no hint of urgency.  There was more time in the world for you two to finally have each other, to be in love with one another, and you felt like Oliver wanted to savor every second with you.  

"I don't wanna cum yet," He whispered against your lips, tracing your nose with his as you gulped, "Not when I wanna have ya here,"

That alone made your heart skip, feeling his hands go under the water and grab your hips as he too was not breaking your glance.  He moved your swiftly, having you now against the wall and him crowding you as he kissed you over and over.  His hands moved to trace and touch your breast, some bubbles slipping down your nipples and making you moan as he palmed them both while kissing down your neck and jawline.  You felt as if you were boneless under his touch, his chest against yours as his mouth moved now to lick and suckle your breast, his thighs against your own under the water to make you feel his still hard cock near your own aching core.  

It felt perfect, all of this felt perfect.  

Releasing a nipple from his mouth with a pop, your eyes were glazed over as he leaned into you again and stared into your orbs to catch his breath, "I got ya, okay?" 

You nodded your head, you two staring each other down as his spare hand reached down to take his cot in hand and guide himself into you.  You felt it all through your bones and skin, through your veins as your eyes rolled back and you felt him slowly sink himself inside of you.  The stretch felt like an ache, a good ache after being on a broom for far too long.  It felt right, almost engrained within you as his cock snugged against your walls and you moaned loudly with no sign of being restrained.  Your eyes were closing, not seeing how Oliver was watching you take him so well and how he wished he could etch this image in his mind.  You were naked, covered in water and bubble, bare and open for him and only him.

He won't forget it ever in his life.  

Oliver, once he was fully inside of you, waited for your to adjust for him as you took a long breath.  It was a bit much, almost losing your breath as your thighs trembled under the water and against his own legs.  You had to hold onto his neck for some kind of support as his hand under the water grasped one of your thighs.  His other unoccupied hand was back out of the water and bracing the wall by your head as he kissed your face over and over.

"Okay?" He asked in a raspy voice, he too was feeling the immense pleasure of your walls keeping him inside of you.  You whimpered and nodded your head as he grinned along your cheeks, "Merlin you feel fuckin' good.  So…so good."

His hips were moving slowly, with deep hard thrusts that made you moan with each push. His hips were doing most of the work, the thrusts were deep enough and hard enough for you to melt against the wall but enough to make everything shake under your skin as you were taking everything he gave you.  Oliver was not going fast, which made you wonder for a split second if he wished to.  No, you could tell in how he was going at it that he wanted this to last, not a fast fuck.

"Yes….Merlin Yes…..Oli…FUCK!" You mewled as he hit that spot inside of you, hearing him growl for a moment as he was still fucking you in the tub.  His hand that was holding your thigh was in a tight grip, not letting you sink as you clung onto his back of dear life, feeling your nails almost break the skin as your moans were getting louder and more vocal.  His rhythm was consistent, not slowing down or going too fast just to drive you insane as you felt that feeling of an intense orgasm come over you again.   

"I'm c-close, O-o-liver—" You were moaning into his neck as he huffed and stopped his thrusts.  You were about to protest at him, teetering right on the edge of that pleasurable fall when he moved swiftly once again.  Still inside of you, he leaned back a bit and scooped you in his arms, moving with ease to have his back against the wall once again and you in his lap.  With his cock still buried deep inside of you, he peered up at you and saw the state you were in.

Naked and shaking from pleasure, hair plastered to your neck and backside, eyes wide and unhinged.  He reached up, damp hand up to your neck to look at the image before you as he smiled.  Being perched over Oliver made you feel almost powerful, untouchable, and yet you were still at his mercy.  You too wished to savor this image in your mind forever, knowing you would never be the same.

His thumb traced your lower lip, his hips now moving up and down as his other hand under the water moved to touch your cunt, right over your clit.  You keened, leaning over from the shock of pleasure as he gripped your neck and watched you get that high again.  With his thumb on your clit, making sharp and small circles and his cock drilling into you, he was watching in utter fascination and wonderment.  

"Cum for me," he whispered rapidly against your lips as he kissed you boldly, "I can feel you're close, aren't ya?  I wanna feel it, all of it.  Please, cum for-"

The orgasm you felt slammed you sideways and made you scream, your body going stiff from the pleasure that was now intensified up and down your body as you rode through every second of it.  Oliver saw how your eyes shot wide, your body quivered in the still hot water, and your hands clenched onto his shoulders tight as he thrusts two more times before he too released with a loud moan.  

You felt him unload inside of you, spreading inside of you to feel that warmth along your walls and make you moan some more as you collapsed on top of him.  He wrapped you in his arms, still riding out his release as he thrust into your a few more times.

The pleasure was no long piping hot but a simmer, you both still shaking and each your breaths as Oliver gathered you in his arms and kissed you all over.  You were grateful you were still in the tub, covered in water and bubbles to get some relief.  Although he pulled out of you, he never once released you, placing you in his lap and kissing you soundly with a massive grin on his face.  

"Merlin's Beard…that was…." You said, still unable to talk as Oliver grinned widely.

"I was thinking the same thing," He murmured, his voice uneven himself as he pressed his forehead against yours, "And to think we could have done this sooner if we weren't thick in the head,"

That made you giggle, curling into him some more as he was keeping you close in his arms.  It was true, if you both weren't worried so much about the "what if's" and simply went with what you felt, then you would have this kind of love, this intimacy, way sooner.  But life was strange in that way of course bringing you two back together in the aftermath of an almost catastrophic war that would have erased everything you knew and loved.  

You decided then and there to live in the moment, leaning up to kiss him hotly.  

30 minutes later, you two walked out of the Prefects Bathroom, dried off, and back in your old clothes.  Heading back to the Great Hall and the Courtyard, you both walked side by side and held hands between the two of you, trying to hide the still evident flushness and blush on both of your cheeks.  

Yet neither one of two saw Professor McGonagall near the Great Hall entrance watch you two walk out together, a knowing smile on her lips as she looked at her two old students and Gryffindor Alumni.

"Took those two long enough," She replied with a soft smile.  

The End.

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[facioleeknow]

How to treat your hardworking boyfriend • Bang Chan

Chan is working hard so you decide to surprise him on valentine’s day ;)

Wc: 708 Genre: smut 18+ ONLY

Tw: smut, mommy kink, subby chan, sex in a bathtub, unprotected sex, creampie, face cumshot, cum eating

Part of my Valentine's day collab!

The light from the candles danced on the white walls of the bathroom. The water shone and glimmered, the soft foam swayed lightly in the tub as you dipped your hand and gently stirred the warm water.

Chan felt lightheaded and not only because the room was full of steam. It clang to his skin, like a stuffy warm blanket. In front of him was the most spectacular sight he had ever laid eyes upon. 

You sat on the edge of the tub, body clad in a skimpy red lingerie. A heart cutout exposed almost your whole tits, giving easy access to your chest and uncovered more skin for him to gawk at. It was a fairly simple two piece, a thong and a corset top but it made Chan salivate and whine at the sight, his jeans becoming deliciously tight.

“I take it this is a fitting valentine's present?” you giggled. Chan swore he ascended to heaven. He couldn't even answer, he just gulped and nodded enthusiastically.

“Come in silly,” you urged, giggling again at his shy antics.

Chan widened his eyes and swiftly threw off his socks and his shirt. His trembling hands then  started fumbling with his belt and he let out an annoyed sigh at the garment.

“Stop, come here I wanna do it.”

Chan raised his head and nearly passed out at the sight. You had entered and now sat in the tub, the lace clinged to your skin deliciously, your nipples pebbled for him to see.

Your hands reached out and touched his legs. Chan let out a heavy sigh at the feeling. 

His belt was undone in seconds and his pants pulled down in mere moments. His boxers had a big wet spot from where his precum was leaking from his fat hard cock. You pulled them down as well.

His cock was now free, precum leaking onto the edge of the tub. Your hand wrapped around it and started stroking him slowly. Chan moaned loudly.

“Are you close already baby?” you taunted him. He didn't care, and he was close, your sight alone in that lingerie was enough to make him bust. He nodded simply and shut his eyes.

“Eyes on me pretty boy,” you ordered. Your hand started to pick up speed, until the only thing you could hear in the room were the slick noises you were making and Chan’s pornographic moans.

“Do you want to cum on my face, baby boy?” 

Chan felt his balls tighten, you knew the effect that nickname had on him. The force of his orgasm almost made him scream. White hot ropes painted your face prettily.

Chan looked at you like you were a goddess but soon widened his eyes once again and felt his dick get hard, when you scooped up his cum with your middle finger and then pressed it down on your tongue. A moan escaped your lips.

“Get in the tub my love.” Chan wasted no time in climbing inside the bathtub and sitting down in the hot water, his dick painfully hard again. Your legs trapped him at the edge of the tub, his back pressed against the white porcelain.

“Can I bounce on you baby, please?” you moaned in his ear.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he answered breathlessly. The effect you had on him was insane.

Pulling your panties to the side, you wasted no time and fully sat on him. 

“So full,” you whimpered. You knew how much Chan liked it when you praised and talked dirty to him.

Your movements were quick, his dick pushed against your g spot at every thrust, your clit rubbed against his pelvis. 

“Channie,” you whined against. Your boyfriend was completely fucked out, head thrown back and mouth wide open, it was a sinful scene.

It didn't take long for him to cum again. His seed shot inside you and dripped down his shaft. Your hand reached your joined bodies and started rubbing quick circles on your clit. 

Chan's hand gripped the bathtub tightly as you overstimulated him. 

“Please mommy, come for me,” he whimpered. It didn't take long for you to cum after that, your juices mixed with his.

“Happy Valentines day, my love”

[fan-fantasies]

My Choice

A/N: hey everyone! I know it’s been a while. Life got pretty rocky there for a bit but things seem to be a bit better now. I’ve been wanting to write for a while so thank you to those that have requested ideas! I hope you enjoy it! I switched up the request a bit and I’m a little rusty so I hope it’s still okay.

Summary: Rhea is a mafia boss. She was your boss at your regular day job but fired you out of nowhere. What happens when she shows up at your house one night, bloody and beaten down?

Pairing: Mafia!Rhea x reader

Warnings: blood, nudity

You grabbed the lavender bath oil from the cabinet and set it next to the tub. You lit a few candles and set them around the bathroom. All that was left was to run your bath. You needed to relax after a long day.

Your boss had fired you with no explanation, and while you were given a generous severance package, you were still quite upset.

You were the executive assistant at Ripley Enterprise, working directly under the CEO, Rhea. To say the two of you were close was an understatement, which is why you were even more confused when she let you go.

You knew she was doing some shady things behind the scenes, hearing the rumors all over town about how she was a mafia boss, but you didn’t really care. She treated you and the rest of her employees well.

While she was flirty with you, she never crossed the line to inappropriate. You may have developed a small crush on her during your tenure at her company, but you never acted on it. She was your boss, after all.

You shook the thoughts from your head, not wanting to think about her or your job any longer.

Before you could get the water running, you heard a faint knock from the front door. It was so soft you almost thought it wasn’t real. But when you heard it again, you knew you weren’t imagining it.

You tightened your robe and went to the front door, peaking out the window first. You sighed before opening the door.

“Can I help you?” You asked sharply. Rhea turned around and you gasped. “What happened to you?”

You quickly pulled her inside and inspected her bloody face. Her lip was busted open and she had a cut on her brow. She had some blood on her chest that you didn’t think was hers.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t know where else to go,” she mumbled quietly, staring at the floor.

“Come on.” You pulled her into the kitchen and grabbed a washcloth. You ran it under warm water before pressing it gently to her head. She sucked in a sharp breath but let you continue.

You cleaned the blood from her face and chest, but you couldn’t do anything about the tired eyes and worn down look.

“Thank you,” she said, finally making eye contact. “I normally take care of this myself; I just…didn’t want to be alone.”

“I get it,” you nodded sadly.

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Of course- first door on your left.”

She stepped away from you and went to the bathroom.

You had no idea why Rhea decided to show up at your house out of all people, especially when she made it pretty clear she didn’t want you around anymore.

“I should go,” she said, snapping you from your thoughts. “I was interrupting your evening. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay! You don’t have to go. Why don’t I run you a bath actually and you can relax.”

“I don’t want to impose-“

“I won’t take no for an answer,” you said, pulling her back to the bathroom.

You ran the hot water and added the oil. You made sure it was the right temperature before standing back up.

“Leave your clothes, I’ll get you something to change in to,” motioning to her outfit which was stained with more blood.

“Stay, please,” she nearly whispered.

“Are you sure?” You asked, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

She slowly made her way toward you, stopping only inches in front of you. Her fingers began to play with the tie on your robe.

“Only if you’re okay with it,” she said. You didn’t hesitate to nod and you noticed her visibly relax.

You dropped your robe and climbed into the tub, focusing on the water instead of her stripping out of her clothes.

You expected her to sit across from you, but she got in facing away from you and laid herself back against your chest.

You ran your hands up and down her arms, trying to soothe her.

“Why did you fire me?” You asked, unable to keep it to yourself any longer.

“Because I need you to be safe.”

“What do you mean? I was safe,” you told her.

“Things are getting a little dicey and I couldn’t put you at risk. I’m not exactly who you think I am,” she admitted.

“I think I have an idea and it never bothered me. I love…my job. I loved working for you no matter the risk,” you stopped yourself from saying what you truly meant.

“I figured it was easier to cut all ties with you rather than have you taken from me.”

“So you don’t want me in your life?” You asked, unable to hide the pain in your voice.

“Quite the opposite actually. You were the only person I thought of coming to tonight. I needed to see you after the night I had. I just couldn’t be the reason something happened to you.”

“It should be up to me whether I think you’re worth the risk or not,” you stated firmly.

She sat up and turned to face you.

“You’re right. And I’m sorry for taking that choice from you.”

“Apology accepted. Now can I have my job back?”

“No.” Your heart dropped. “Only because I can’t date my employees, and I’d very much like to ask you out.”

“So it’s you or my job?”

“If you want to put it that way,” she shrugged.

“I can always find another job, I can’t find another you,” you said with a small smile. Her face lit up for the first time that night.

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You went to deepen it and she winced.

“I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, now get back here,” she said, pulling you back in for more.

“I’m glad you came here tonight,” you said.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

———

Please comment and follow!

[peachesofteal]

Simon praising Darling for being a good girl when she announces she’s pregnant 😮‍💨 like I’m sorry sir, who gave you the right to be so damn hot when you’re FICTIONAL?!

And Darling is just confused af about wtf he means. Like does she ever find out they fucked with her BC and knocked her up?? I must know, I must have more 😈🤭

He's like, 'you've done so well, darling' and she's like 'wait, what the fuck just happened?'

AU - not canon for Dead Disco Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief mention of smut, mature themes. Angst. Vomiting. Doctors. Pregnant reader. Relationship issues. Dark themes.

"I've got ya." Johnny coos while he rubs your back where you are kneeling over the toilet, breakfast and bile coming up your throat with every other heave.

"I hate this." you moan between pants, propping your arm up to rest your head. He clucks his tongue, standing to run a cloth under the sink and returning to press it to your forehead gently. It's cold, and soft, and moving in easy circles.

"I know, darling. I know." You push away, slumping into his arms, letting him cuddle you close while he leans back against the bathroom wall and you count his heartbeats from where your head lays on his chest.

The door creaks open, and Simon's halfway inside, peering down at the two of you, mild concern in his eyes while he studies your slouching form.

"Third time today." He notes with a frown, and you nod. They count, keep track of everything, so they can recall it for your doctor's visits and make sure everything is still within 'normal' range. Morning sickness, your doctor has assured them too many times to count, is very normal.

"Morning sickness, the nausea, vomiting, is all normal."

"She's sick multiple times a day." Simon grits out. Johnny shifts his weight nervously, while you sigh and pat his hand comfortingly.

"If we were seeing drastic weight loss, or the panels were coming back outside of normal range, I would be concerned. But that's not happening. So, you've nothing to worry about." You give her a relieved smile, and hope they'll actually listen this time, although you know it's kind of pointless. "So," she claps her hands, and then motions to the table, and Johnny visibly brightens. This is everyone's favorite part, the ultrasound. You always glue your eyes to the screen, holding you breath to see the baby, the little blob in black and grey, your own little bean. You're obsessed with the sound of the heartbeat, taking comfort in its strength, its steadiness. So much so you bought a fetal doppler, just so you could all hear it at home. "Should we take a peek?"

"I'm fine." you assure him, holding a hand out. "Help me up." He grips you by your elbow, pulling you to your feet and into him briefly, so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair with a deep breath. "Now get out, I'm gross. Need to wash my face." You insist, pushing both him and Johnny into the hallway playfully before closing the door.

You have a lot of drawers, in this bathroom. Almost all of them actually, and most of them are a bit of a mess, unorganized, things strewn about. Sometimes, like now, you have to dig around for things. You're looking for something specific, a heavier moisturizer, one that can combat some of the dryness around your nose. Your fingers flip through tubes and tubs and creams, old mascara and half busted hair clips. You tsk, irritated that you're having a hard time finding the blue jar, until-

Your fingers brush against your old birth control pack. Encased in a cream colored piece of plastic, little pills lined up in a row. Just the sight of it frustrates you. After so many years, it finally failed. Finally let you down.

You don't know, but you pull it out. Maybe to look at it closer, to see if it will be expired by the time you finally need it again, or maybe, just to look at the thing that was your one constant since you were practically a child.

Either way. You study it closer, and that's how you notice the corner of the pill tray. The little foil piece on the corner is lifted, just a smidge, just enough for you not to notice, but when you peel it, it comes away so easily, so perfectly, with minimal adhesive. Like's it been pulled away before and put back in place. Like it's been moved.

When you realize, the floor room spins. It shudders around you, bathroom walls curving closer and closer to where you stand in front of the sink, eyes wide, dumbfounded. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. Would they? You blink at yourself in the mirror. You look, tired, but mostly healthy, a true testament to absolute hovering that has been occurring in your life over the past five months. You never lift a finger, you don't want for anything.

Because you're pregnant.

Because you're pregnant, with their baby, that you thought you got knocked up with on accident.

Your stomach curdles. They did this on purpose. Your fingers clench against the stone of the sink while you remember, all those nights when they pressed you to the mattress and made you see stars, while they filled you with their come over and over, every day. They were actively trying. They wanted this. A giant black hole rips open inside of you. It sucks your joy, your happiness, your dreams of future into it immediately. It dismantles everything you thought you knew as truth, takes a hammer and smashes apart every single second of the last five months.

They took your choice away. You stomach flips, and the you’re flinging yourself back in front of the toilet, bile spewing on your lips while you dry heave. It burns, the sting matching the sear of the tears that track down your face.

How could they do this?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You return to the hotel now less agitated than when you left. The longer you’re stranded in this sleepy village, the more exasperated you grow. You just don’t understand. You took every measure to make sure your vacation is perfect and you were sidelined by a damned axel. You will be having a long conversation with the man who did your oil back in the city. Empty promises are not good business. 

As you cross the lobby, you slow and peer around. That chirpy woman isn’t behind the counter. The place is almost desolate. You shrug and carry on up the stairs. Wouldn’t that be amusing if that oaf’s party turned out to be a bust? Who in their right minds would put so much energy into spending a single moment with the brute? 

Housekeeping has tended to your room. Fresh linens and even a new bottle of wine. You suppose that might be another pitiful attempt to lure you down to kickoff of Thor’s midlife crisis. You ignore it and focus on what you can enjoy. There isn’t much for you there but a hot bath sounds wonderful. 

You take your time, undressing, stretching, sifting through hotel samples. They smell of artificial rose. A pre-packaged migraine. You retrieve your toiletry bag as the tub fills slowly.  

As you sink into the steam pool, the first sign of trouble sounds from below. The blaring hum of bass thrums through the floor. You sigh as the contents of the bath shelf rattle. Great, so much for relaxation. That’s all you want after the last few days. You’ve been wound tight by that ox of a man and this boorish place; not too mention that fool who interrupted your coffee in town. This village breeds inanity. 

Your obstinacy keeps you submerged, just until the water grows cold. Still, you are tense and irritated, annoyed by even the sound of your own breath. You release the stopper and climb out, drying off with the plush towel. At least the amenities are acceptable. 

You hang the towel and wrap yourself in the rope. The hotel’s wireless should do for an episode or two of your weekly indulgence. You’ve a backlog to catch up after the last few weeks of tireless work and preparations.  

It would be a shame to put the wine to waste. You uncork the bottle and pour a glass. You set up your phone on the bed, propping it up with your purse and recline against the fluffed pillows with the rose. The subtitles are much too small on the screen to accommodate for the constant haze of noise from below. 

You give up, frustrated at straining to track the arguments of spoiled wives and eccentric widows, and turn off the show. Something to look forward to. Later. You put the phone face down on the night table and empty the glass. 

You rise to replenish the crystal and sift out the single book your brought along as Plan B. You never know when you might be bored out of your mind but you hard think the novel will withstand this monotony. You resume your laze in bed, this time with pages beneath your thumbs, and furrow your brow at the prose. 

Barely a few pages before you are once more torn from any semblance of content. You growl and slam the book shut. The music is louder now. Oh, that overgrown ape must be living it up. You can’t help but think it’s purposeful. He know he has guests, rather a guest, and yet he carries on so. 

Well, he will not get to you. You will not give him the pleasure of disturbing you. Not any further than he already has. 

You shove the book aside and grab a pillow. You are rather tired, as it were. You will need rest for tomorrow when you march down to the mechanic’s shop and demand that he fixes your car. At once. You cannot bear another day of this hole. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and smirk at the fantasy of your unbreakable will. Like a conquering warrior, you will not be beat back this time. You must escape from this place before you snap. A whole vacation planned on the premise of letting go and you are more stressed than ever. It is that cruel irony which has followed you through much of your existence. 

You manage to reach that foggy state right before the drop off. In a moment it dissipates. There’s a clamour in the hall and the high-pitch of a giggle, then another, followed by a booming thunder. Ugh, absolutely ridiculous. It sounds as if it’s right outside your very door. 

You toss the pillow away from your head as your temper razes through you. That’s it. You’re done being the better person. You will be the banshee everyone thinks you to be. 

You hop up and storm across the room. You rip open the door and snarl, “would you keep it down?!” 

You are faced by a rather dopey looking trio. Two girls with a drunken glaze in their eyes and the hotel’s resident idiot; Thor. He smirks as the girls stagger around and babble, ignoring you as they grab at his thick arms. 

“Come on, Thor, you said we could see the honeymoon suite,” one whines. 

“Who even comes here--” the other hiccups, “for their honey--” hiccup, “moon?” 

It’s a fair question. You roll your eyes as Thor takes the girls beneath his arms, sending you a pointed look, “ah, don’t worry, girls, I’ll show exactly why anyone might come to Thunder Lane to unleash their darkest desires, eh?” He turns them away and you snarl at his back, “you’ll like the shower head.” 

He chortles loudly and you gasp. Disgusting. You swing the door shut and stomp your foot. More than the village itself, you detest that man. You almost feel bad for those dumb girls. They look much too young for him. Does he really think the silver strands blend so well into the golden blond? Well, you wouldn’t assume wisdom comes with age in that one. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed, trying to figure some way to settle down. You don’t want to spend the whole night annoyed by that man and his drunken guests. You paid for your room. You paid for peace and quiet. 

You will not be riled any further. You are smarter than him. You are smarter than all of them.  

You finish the glass of wine and find your sleep mask along with the pair of earbuds that came with the emergency travel kit you found at the bookshop. It seemed ridiculous at the time but at least it has proven a sound purchase. You put the silk over your eyes and push the buds into your ears. You once more bury your head under the pillows as you let the dreamy tones of the Carpenters lull you. 

The wine helps. You feel yourself drifting as the drumming softens and the woodwinds blend in with Karen’s heavenly voice. Your breaths thicken and catch in your nose, rolling into snores you can hear through your half-sleep. 

The 70s pop fades away as you roll onto your back, the pillow slipping from over your head. Dazed and dozy, you lay in darkness, the pulsing of bass still rumbling through the mattress beneath you. You groan as your lashes flick against the sleep mask. You reach to remove it but a vice closes around your wrist, then the other. 

The bed jostles again. It's more than the thumping speakers below, there’s someone else there. You whimper as your arms are pinned beside you and a weight straddles your middle. A rolling thunder seeps into your ears as hot breath fans over you. 

“Don’t think I forgot about you, sweetheart,” Thor’s devilish baritone sends a shiver through you as he grinds his pelvis against yours, “time for you to join the party.”  

[peaceinsilence]

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°♡• PART 1 •♡°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Warnings: 《mutual attraction. alcohol consumption. HINTS of dom|sub kink. angsty Quinn. posessive Quinn. cheeky Quinn. slow burn.》

Pairings: Quinn Hughes × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You have been childhood friends with the Hughes' brother's and regularly kept in touch. Now that you all were in your 20's, the brother's and their friends invited you out for the weekend to celebrate the 4th of July. However despite having a lifelong crush on the eldest brother, Quinn, it seems this weekend celebration will be full of jealousy, lust and wet dreams coming true.

A/N: Part 2 will be a continuation of this plot. It will contain acts of sex and intimacy and will be much more filthy and.. nasty ( I will be sure to put it in the warning when I post). This is just becoming too long to fit into one singular post (🥲). Apologies for any weird formatting, as this was all written on mobile. Enjoy! ☆

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"Get out of the hot tub, now."

The usual gaunt and calm demeanor of Quinn's was nowhere to be seen as his command dripped heavily with authority, vacancy, and a bit of disgust. No, actually, a lot of disgust.

And he was speaking to none other than you in this instance.

"Ah.. well just let her stay in a bit longer? She's literally still shiver-"

Quinn didn't utter a word yet simply glanced through Jack with his deep, olive gaze. His brother knew then that something far more serious was transpiring and decided not to test his older sibling on the matter. Especially when it came to the subject of: You.

"Quinn, I'll get out in 10 minutes. And if you have anything to say to me after then we can talk," you retorted, not bothering to meet his sharp eyes.

"Fair. I'll be inside then and set a timer for 10 minutes. Make sure you're inside by then, y/n," replied Quinn.

Abruptly Quinn turned on his heels, hands sunk low into the pockets of his denims; walking back towards the house.

His bold line made your eye twitch and your confusion deepen.

"I'm not a child, you don't need to set a timer Qui-" before your womenly rage had it's time to manifest, Quinn cut you off as he continued his gloomy descent indoors.

"If you don't want to be handled like a kid, then maybe don't act like one."

With that, he gingerly closed the patio doors behind him, no further words exchanged between you two. The absence of him leaving in that way, his words, had a rush of anxiety waving over you. However, it didn't compare to the pain he had inflicted on you just 20 minutes prior.

+×+×+×+×+×+× 20 minutes earlier ×+×+×+×+×+

You sat quietly alone at the marbled island in the kitchen as you mindlessly swirled around your solo cup of, you guessed it, Coke Zero.

Normally, your choice of poison was a boring whiskey and coke but not today, or for the majority of the weekend, it seemed. The legal drinking age here was 21, which you didn't turn for another 3 months. However, the legal for you was 19 back in your province, so you'd been inebriated more times than you could remember since turning of age.

You didn't drink much or that often, for that matter. Yet seeing the brother's and all of their friends enjoying their buzz and quirky cocktails, you couldn't help but endure a terrible case of fomo.

"Y/n?" spoke a gentle voice over your shoulder.

Swiveling around in the barstool, you locked eyes with Luke and Jack. Your gaze softened at the sight of them both, the cheeky older siblings you never had.

"Hey guys," you spoke softly, feeling instantly more relaxed in their presence.

Jack pulled out a small bottle of whiskey from behind his back and dangled it in the air as if it were a prize he had just won from the carnival.

Your eyes widened in amusement as you caught on as to what they were insinuating.

"Really?" you teased, crossing your arms over your bust.

There's no way they would allow you to have a drink, especially after Luke prewarned you on your arrival.

Supposedly Quinn had chatted with his friends prior, that they were not to give you any alcohol. At all.

"Look, we know you can drink back in Canada.. and it's the weekend of the 4th. We just felt a little guilty seeing you in here all alone-"

"I'm not alone guys, I've got Miso right over ther- wait, where's Miso?" you groaned as you kicked your legs off of the high stool and began searching for your dog who you had brought along with.

Glancing through the massive patio doors behind the two brothers, there you witnessed your 120 lb pup living his best life with Quinn and some of the other guys. Miso was playfully galloping after them, frisbee in mouth.

"Well I stand corrected, I am all alone," you chuckled light heartedly, while throwing your hair up in a rose gold, claw clip.

God, how was it so hot in the States, you wondered? It also didn't help that you were in a long, blood-orange hued sundress. You felt your best when dressed modest and with those you were comfortable around. Plus, growing up with strict parents and in a cold province, you weren't used to showing off your supple skin.

However, you did pack a few new, tastefully scandalous bikinis to wear for the hot tub as the lush infity pool in the back was out of question. How you envied those who could swim.

Instead, you settled and prayed that in the mornings, you'd be able to sneakily make your way to the soothing tub for some much needed you time. You assumed most of the guests and brothers would be hungover and find sleeping in more appealing than waking up at 5 am, rather than going for a morning dip in the hot tub.

Averting your gaze back to the two, they walked past you and into the kitchen where you watched Luke pull out 3 shot glasses, lining them gently on the countertop.

"But don't get too excited, y/n. We can all take 1 together and maybe sneak you another one later... but that's only if you'd like, alright? Listen, you don't even have to take this with us if you don't feel comfortable. It's completely up to-"

"You both are my angels, thank you. But please just pour the shot," you giggled, flashing them an appreciative smile while sitting back on your stool.

You felt grateful that Quinn had brothers who were respectful towards you and others. Brothers who had no issues in a simple "no" if need be said. And boy, did you say no quite a bit to them due to your social anxiety and shyness.

Being handed over a shot, you clasped the cold glass between your slender fingers and anticipated yourself for your insides to burn. Embracing the deep, oaky warmth that was about to glaze over you.

Cheersing the boys with big smiles all around, you held it up to your plump lips, about to throw it back in one smooth motion before the dainty glass of amber liquid is snatched from your hold. A few drops of whiskey swish out and over onto your dress and breasts.

Turning over your shoulder, you see Quinn towering over you as if summoned by the Gods, the shot in his hand. He sets it down away from you on a glass table end in the living area.

"Wasn't us!" piped up Jack deviously as they both tucked their shots behind their backs (and tails between their legs) and made a beeline past Quinn and out the patio doors.

Shooting Quinn a deep side eye, you jumped off the stool and brushed past him to get to the kitchen sink to clean yourself off. All thanks to the captain of the NFP.

No fun police.

"C'mere. I'll help you."

Quinn placed a firm yet delicate hold on your forearm, leading you to the other side of the island. Trailing behind him like a lost puppy, you could only watch the back of his hair bounce lightly with each step. It was still quite damp and slicked back. He must have been in the pool.

Opening a cupboard, he reached upwards and, with ease, grabbed a blue cotton cloth from the top shelf. As he motioned upwards, you couldn't help but leer like a pervert at all the muscles in his back flexing.

You felt your face burning and your nervous system begining to falter. The chokehold that the eldest Hughes' brother always had over you was something you had been trying to shake off for years. At this point, you needed a lobotomy or to be medicated to get over all that was Quintin Hughes.

Quinn turned back around with the cloth dampened in soap and pulled on the fabric of your silk dress without question. You both were extremely comfortable around one another.

Always were since kids.

Gently tugging around your bust, he was exposing more of your modest cleavage, and you were definitely not adorning an irritating bra in this heat today.

Looking up at Quinn, you noticed his face was slightly starting to deepen in shade. God, he looked so cute whenever he got flustered. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Quinn, to your surprise, proceeded to chastise you.

"You've always been my messy girl," he murmured to himself.

Hissing, you told him to shut up and snatched the cloth from his hand, similar to how he had done with your whiskey.

"YOU dropped it on me, Quinn. Thanks for your help, but I don't need you looking down my chest any longer," you quip back, a tone of deep teasing in your voice.

"Maybe it was all just a plan to finally see your big -"

"Oh, Quintin! Don't you dare be talking about my chest, or I swear to -"

"Your big smile," he finished, not hiding his cheeky grin at all.

Rolling your doe-eyes, you couldn't help but stick your middle finger up at him, like the brat that you were whenever in his presence.

Quinn, within a blink of an eye, grabbed your finger and began to twist it playfully around you, as if you two were wrestling.

However, this time, he had effortlessy wrapped his frame around your burning silhouette. Positioning himself steadily behind you, enclosing a tight fist around your palm while his other arm snaked around the lower end of your waist. He pulled your plump rear tight into his lower abdomen and held his upper weight on you as he pinned you against the counter. Your breasts were pressed firm against the ivory marble, spilling further out of your sundress.

Not being able to help yourself, you were stupidly aroused. You found yourself mindlessly swaying and grinding your hips into him, as if lost in the trance of a song that wasn't playing. You hadn't had a sip of alcohol but in this moment, you were lost in his touch completely.

God, did you feel terribly intoxicated by Quinn's charisma and body.

Without being able to see his face and usual blank eyes, you could hear Quinn's breath sharpen tightly and his cock begin to harden against you. The thin silk of your sundress rubbing against his manhood, as if he owned you.

Suddenly, Quinn let go of you while simultaneously pulling you back up and pushing all that was you away. Friends, yet strangers once more.

Spinning around, you tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ears and looked up at him terribly embarrassed. You pushed a line somehow and could read from his body language that he wasn't okay with it.

"Quinn, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"I promised your Dad I wouldn't let you drink while you were here."

Huh.

Pardon.

You simply stared at him dumbfounded and nervously let out an involuntary giggle.

"Funny, Quinn. I haven't been home in months, nor have I really spoken to Dad lately, so just say you're not comfortable with me drinking," you reply, a light-hearted tone to your voice.

It was true. The relationship you shared with your father was complicated. He worked hard throughout his life to make sure you were cared for, loved, and nurtured. Sure, his ways of showing it and teaching it was... not conventional to the majority, but you knew he adored you. All of you.

Through your terrible depressive episodes. When you gained over 80+ lbs to when you hit your gym phase. He accompanied and supported you through every change. Physical and mental.

Yet since moving out, you both had become distant and shared an obvious disconnect. You were learning and exploring more of the world without him and Mum; ever changing. Whereas he forever seemed to see you in the light of his meek, yet artistic little 5 year old. In need of protection, constant reassurance, and one-on-one attention.

You were trying so hard to find yourself on your own and you always knew your parents meant well, but to know that your father had no trust in you and felt the need to reach out to Quinn and forbid you from drinking, was disappointing in a way.

"Y/n, I'm not joking. Your Dad just doesn't know a lot of the people here, and he was worried... Which I understand. He trusts you completely, and so do I. He knows you can handle your own. He just worries and loves you like I d-".

Quinn stopped himself abruptly and brushed his hand through his unruly hair in mild distress. You'd seldom seen him like that, growing up. Fighting within himself.

His dark locks were starting to dry since coming out of the pool, curling at the ends and glistening in the golden hour that was beginning to shower through the windows.

Softening your gaze towards him, you understood where he was coming from and the weight of his and your Dad's concerns. You saw the same protectiveness in him.

"I get it Quinn.. actually, I-I think I'll, um, go give him a call and let him and Mum know what we've been up to today," you spoke, reaching for your phone off of the countertop. You suddenly felt insanely guilty.

"Of course, y/n. You give them a call while I get something from my room. And I'll meet you down here in 10? Let me make you something to eat, kitten. I haven't seen you eat anything since you came and I know you can't usually stomach anything when you fly."

Kitten. His only pet name for you. And rarely did he ever use it. So when he did, the weight that one word carried made your soul weep with love.

You couldn't help but get teary-eyed. Of course, he remembered how anxious you got on planes. Of course, he knew how you had your moments of struggling to fuel yourself. Of course, Quinn would always look after you.

Reaching forward, you placed a tight hold on his bicep and pulled him in to you. Placing a soft, small kiss on his cheek, you pulled away and gave him a big smile before turning on your heels and heading towards your room to call your folks.

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About 20 or so minutes had passed, and Quinn wasn't back yet. Your call with your Dad had gone exceptionally well. You reassured him you were alright and that Quinn was truly taking care of you, which made him sound more relaxed at the end of the call and, in general, content. It soothed you, knowing he was happy.

As soon as you hung up, you raced back upstairs in anticipation, thinking Quinn was waiting for you in the living area. He was never late.

However, he wasn't there. You even gone as far as to text him to let him know you were laying on the recliner under the pink, frilly blanket. Yet there was no rush to come and accompany you by all means. You were sure he was busy with his friends and hosting.

Unfortunately, when 10 minutes became 20 and he hadn't read your messages, you couldn't help yourself nor your impatience and impulsiveness.

Deciding to trudge up the many stairs towards Quinn's bedroom, you found yourself becoming giddy with excitement. You felt so deeply for him in this moment and only wished you could profuse to him how much you loved him to his core. You swore you had felt some type of reciprocation in the kitchen earlier by him. Perhaps not the sentiments of love, but you felt that Quinn did share some type of romantic feelings for you, right?

The younger Hughes' brothers had shown you earlier all of the bedrooms and living situations for the weekend when you had arrived. Thankfully, you were given the entire basement to yourself, which included a kitchen, living area, private balcony, masters and bathroom.

Eyeing each door that passed you in a blurry haze within the vast never-ending hall, you end up at Quinns door. Taking a deep breath in, you twisted the knob slowly so as not to scare Quinn. He was always a skiddish boy growing up. Especially when Luke, Jack, and yourself loved to prank the more serious brother growing up.

You couldn't even open the door fully, as a crack was enough to make your heart sink and brain numb.

Quinn sat on the edge of his bed, holding a small hand viscerally in his larger one, cooing sweet words towards someone. You watched helplessly as your throat dried, and he pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

"I'm always here. Forever. I promise you that."

Those were words you dreamt of hearing from Quinn in regards to yourself. Instead, you got the hard side of him or the teasing side or the cold side. The tough love.

You longed to be cared for and adored by him. Especially to be laid in his bed while he sat by your side.

Through teary eyes, you realized that the beautiful woman laid in his bed was, in fact, his ex-girlfriend.

Silently. Discreetly. You closed the door. As if you were a ghost. One that couldn't move on. Not seeking vengeance. Yet forever haunted by what you witnessed. And missed out on.

Hastily, your feet carried you back towards the hall in a frenzied mess and down the stairs as gentle sobs came out of your core.

There was no point still in thinking, dreaming, even. You and Quinn Hughes meant nothing more than friends. You felt even more embarrassed that you had essentially come onto him in the kitchen. Jesus Christ, y/n.

Just as your father saw you as a fragile little child, Quinn would always see you in the same light.

Yet, in your hazy, love stricken mind, you had sworn you had heard remnants of Quinn's sultry, soft voice call for you. Perhaps even shout desperately, as you made your cowardly escape back into your secluded basement. Alone again.

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♤ PART 2, to be continued... xo

[turcott3]

everything i need

brandt clarke x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, mentions of blood and FLUFF

masterlist

“fucking hell.” you sigh out after cutting your leg in the midst of shaving. you had quite the horrible day, especially at work with making very little money. you didn’t want to let your shift ruin the first night you’d seen your boyfriend in over a month. you pick your foot up off the ground to get a closer look and lose your balance, slipping and busting your ass.

“god fucking damnit.” you yell, hot tears instantly spilling from your eyes. your slowly lean up from the floor, shutting off the water, ditching any plan of washing the runny mascara off your face or bothering to put even a touch of conditioner on the ends of your hair.

you step out of the tub, wrapping your towel tightly around you shutting off your vent, tears continuously falling.

“y/n? is everything okay in there?” you hear taps on the door followed by brandt’s raspy voice that you’d been longing to hear for the last 5 weeks.

“yeah.” you reply weakly.

“are you decent? can i come in?”

“mhm.” you reply, still crying as he opens the door, his face dropping.

“oh honey what happened?” he says sweetly.

“i know i look like a fucking wreck. i hit my head falling in the shower bc i cut my leg, fuck it’s getting on my rug.” you groan, moving your leg onto the tile.

“no baby you’re gorgeous, don’t say that.” he says, wrapping you up in his arms, not caring that you’re still soaked. it felt nice to be in his arms again, especially in the current state you were in.

“let me see your leg, can you sit on the edge of the tub for me?” he says and you do so, not willing to fight him.

“ouch, you got yourself good.”

“yeah, it stung like fuck.” you reply, wiping your tears.

“let me get you bandaged up okay?” he says kneeling in front of you with a caring look in his eye. he steps over to your bathroom closet and returns with an alcohol wipe and a bandaid. you wince at the contact of the wipe, his other thumb running softly over the skin of your calf soothing the sting. carefully, he places the bandaid over the cut, sealing it with a gentle kiss.

“there we go, all better.” he says helping you off the edge of the tub.

“i’m sorry this is what you had to walk into. i had a bad day.” you say as he grabs your cotton rounds and micellar water.

“you don’t have to do that bran-“

“no, let me do it okay? let me take care of you.” he starts.

“and don’t apologize baby, it’s okay to be upset about a bad day.” he finishes dosing the round in the make up cleaner and gently wiping your cheeks of the dried, runny mascara. you admired how sweet he really was. you were skeptical when your friend set you up with him, knowing he’s a professional hockey player but you were surprised by his attention to detail and kind heart. you felt so lucky to land him.

“there’s my pretty girl.” he smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“thank you.” you smile weakly before he turns and digs into his bag, grabbing a shirt and a pair of his boxers.

you unraveled the towel, it falling to the floor, letting him pull the shirt over your your body before positions his boxers for you to step into as he pulled them up your legs.

“i brought you chickfila.” he smiles, knowing that’s what you’d been craving for the last few weeks.

“really?”

“yeah, it’s all in your room, come on.” he says grabbing your hand and pulling you into your room, admiring the little picnic he set up on your bed along with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“brandt.” you frown sweetly.

“i missed you.” he replies as you latch onto him never wanting to let go.

“i missed you so much more.” you reply quietly. you join him on the bed, munching on your order and catching up on whatever drama you missed while you were apart.

“so you’re thinking?” he asks holding up the remote.

“you already know pumpkin.”

“oh i sure do.” he replies with a giggle, putting on your favorite movie to watch while you wrapped yourself up in your favorite person.

this was the longest month of your life, and all you ever wanted was to be wrapped up in him. your sweet sweet boy was yours all over again.

[foxilayde]

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

[teecupangel]

Just saw the Mermaid!Desmond post and it reminded me that i have been playing around with the idea that Desmond gets transported to the past as a mermaid(he prefers the term 'merman' thank you!). With my obsession with EziDes(i'm shameless XD), i imagined 2 scenarios:

1) Ezio meets Desmond in Venice and though at first Desmond is shy and hides away, Ezios persistence and charm wins him over. Desmond has the ability to launch some sticky "vines" from his hands to drag people into the water(based on what the mermaids in Pirates of the Caribbean can do), so he helps Ezio with assassinations from the canal. We could even have some drama where the Templars catch Desmond in a tank on land and when Ezio comes to save him, the tank breaks and at first Desmond is suffocating, then he is in immense pain while his body transforms into a humans. So good news: he can walk on land and even "sleep" with Ezio without risking drowning him(No Ezio, we are not trying it again!). Bad news: it hurts like a motherfucker to transform and it takes a hot minute. At least he can see Monteriggioni now!

2) The classic "Desmond takes Older!Ezio and himself to the past to save Ezio's family" but Desmond is turned into a mermaid(merman!) and is stuck in the disgusting river that runs through Florence. They get transported a day before the execution(Ezio just needs that scar, i love that connection too much XD), so they get a plan to bust out the Auditore family during the night and use a boat to get far enough away from the city before switching to a wagon. Giovanni is confused to what his son is doing("Why didn't you deliver the papers to Uberto, Ezio?"), but decideds to trust his son. During the trip, a guard almost raises the alarm but before he can, something whips out of water and drags the man in. Everyone but Ezio is shocked and when they get to the wagon, they see a small tub with water in the back. Before they can ask about it, they see Ezio lift something from the river before turning around and revealing a mermaid(MERMAN!) in his arms. Ezio is not leaving Desmond behind, no matter how difficult transporting him is(in this version i'd have Desmond need to learn how to shift forms, so for a while he has to be transported in a tiny ass tub if he was to follow Ezio around). The ride back is pretty awkard 'cause it turns out only Ezio can hear Desmonds voice(he speaks mentally, so even underwater he can talk to Ezio and the connection can reach pretty far).

.

We can also use Altaïr and the funny scenario of him being afraid of water, but still has a mermaid(for the LAST TIME: I'M A MERMAN!) boyfriend. XD Though Desmond would be very helpful for the guy that hides on the boat.

Maybe the treasure in Solomons temple started glowing after the entrance collapsed, distracting the templars enough for a hurt Malik and bruised Kadar to grab it and flee? And on the ride back to Masyaf, during an attempt to cross a river to lose the Templars on their trail, the treasure falls into the water, causing an explosion of light. Kadar was blinded by it, but Malik escaped the worst of it and swears he saw a large dark shape swimming away from the orb before he went to grab it. When he returns to Masyaf, with a dead arm and a mostly blind brother, he still blames Altaïr for everything that went wrong, but knows it could have been so much worse.

Altaïr is sent to find the traitor(the same as cannon), but afterwards is sent to the river Malik experienced the light explosion, to search for whatever came from the treasure. Altaïr curses Malik for his clumsiness, to lose the treasure in the river! If it hadn't been glowing it would have been lost. So Altaïr is in a very bad mood when he reaches the river to start his search. He is forced to spend days following it to the ocean, but when he reaches it, he sees something gold, glittering underneath the waves. Before he can try to even figure out how to get closer without having to get near the water, it moves upwards, revealing a strange creature. A half man, half fish spirit that looks like him, just staring at him from the water. They stay there, staring at each other before the spirit swims back under the water, dissapearing before Altaïr can even utter a sound of suprise. No matter how hard he searches the coast, the spirit does not show itself. Altaïr is once again forced to return to his master with another failure.

.

Phew, okay, this took almost an hour to write(i'm a pretty slow typer). XD Words just came pouring out during the Altaïr section. Lol

Additions to the ask from @thedragonqueen1998

Follow up on my Mermaid!Desmond ask:

I completely forgot to add in a description for Desmonds mermaid design. XD I'm a fan of the more spikier designs, so he'd have sharp fins on the side of his tail, a large one on his back, razor sharp claws and webbing on his hands and his ears would be fins. His teeth would be large and sharp and his jaw could almost shoot out like a goblin sharks one. It also opens wise enough that he can bite someones head off. His colouring would be a shiny gold that would dampen the more tired he becomes and the shine would fade if he is sick. So if he spends alot of time in the Venice canals his colours would fade quickly to Ezio's panic. XD He's fine, he just has the mermaid version of the flu.

Additions by teecup:

Desmond being a mermaid during Renaissance Italy would be so fun. Of course, Leonardo would have to paint him, maybe even call him the ‘Siren’ of Greek folklore, going as far as painting what looks like a lot like Templars as the people the supposed Siren drowns.

Centuries later, people would debate if Leonardo Da Vinci’s ‘Siren’ is androgynous or is actually male. Shaun has been part of that debate far too much.

Desmond probably has the habit of lifting his tail then smacking it down, making water splash all around the tank, an instinctive move that mimics humans saying their feet when they’re dangling.

There was actually an ask about what kind of merfolk design would each Assassin have but I can’t find it (as usual).

One of my suggestion for Desmond though is a tail similar to an angler fish like this:

Not exactly like this but a combination of this and your idea of sharp fins. They seem to glow but it’s more noticeable when using Eagle Vision.

Also… the water underneath Monteriggioni is a good place for Desmond to stay as well (although Ezio would be everything to renovate Monteriggioni to have a pond large enough for Desmond, it will become his priority even if they don’t profit from it XD).

If you want an alternative meeting, Ezio could meet Desmond in the underground waters of Monteriggioni while he was exploring Monteriggioni.

.

For the AltDes version, I’m just kinda imagining Altaïr would be too stubborn to return to Masyaf until he was certain what he just saw. He had already failed, he can’t afford to fail again.

Both because of his pride and because he had lost faith in Al Mualim and the Brotherhood too much that he actually believes that they would execute him if he failed again.

So he’s just camping there, staring at the waters.

Every time he feels like someone is staring back, the feeling would be gone by the time he turns around.

He had read about many mystical beings that live in the waters and Altaïr had started to write about what he can observe, even going as far as drawing what he could remember of what he saw.

If anyone was to see it, it would look like the ramblings of a man imagining something that doesn’t exist.

Or perhaps they would believe it.

Many people do believe in such rot.

Altaïr did not.

Not until he saw the spirit.

And now…

Altaïr was simply too stubborn to retreat.

He would capture the spirit and drag it back to Masyaf if it’s the last thing he does.

[first-edition]

Pool “Party”

Mafia!bucky x fiancé!Reader

You host a pool party to celebrate you and bucky getting a new house and it goes wrong with you and Natasha arguing. Does your boyfriend have to interfere or can you win this fight yourself?

Warnings- fighting, verbal abuse, cussing, threats, mention of weapons, talk of sexual themes but no actual smut, mention of alcohol consumption.

(I have nothing against Natasha i just had this idea in my brain and liked it.)

You’ve invited all your friends and bucky some of his. You’ve decided to host a party to break in the new house although bucky wanted to break it in by fucking you raw on every single surface he can, which youre more that happy to let him do later. 

Three hours into the party after games and food, You and your friends sit in the hot tub, drinks in hand and glow sticks floating. Bucky stands with steve, sam, tony and Thor talking by the little outdoor bar.

“This place is so nice.” Wanda giggles entangled in visions arms. 

“yeah you think. Did you see the theater room!?” You exclaim. She nods and giggles. 

“Bucky said i got to choose this time.” You says smiling to your self looking down at your engagement ring through the steamy water. 

“I saw that tennis court on the side too.” Carol says you smile at her loving the feedback. 

“the upstairs area bucky wants to make it into a mini shooting range you know bust out the walls, I said just build onto the house that way you can have extra storage but he’s adiment about it.” You say shrugging. 

“let him do what he wants.” Natasha mumbles into her drink. 

“hmm?” You ask Looking to her. 

“nothing.” She says. 

“no what is it?” You ask 

“she said let him do what he wants.” Sharron rolls her eyes at Natasha’s comment. 

“I am. Didnt you hear me?” You say 

“i did.” 

“so why comment?” You ask. 

“becuase I have the right to speak, No?” 

“yeah but mumbling it into your drink just makes you look snotty” you say to her. 

“Oh im snotty really? You’re hosting a house party on the house your fucking fiancé bought acting like it’s yours.” She scoffs. 

“it is mine. I paid for half.” You begin. 

“yeah with who’s money…Hm the money he puts into your account.” She snaps at you holding out her hand. 

“Natasha can you not?” Pepper asks. 

“Im just saying he only purposed to have her as trophy wife i was there first.” She says. 

“Nat what the fuck is your problem? You’re being a bitch right now. When i first got together with james you were also a bitch and im not gonna have your negative attitude here.” You snap back. 

“Why am i a bitch becuase i wont sit and listen to you brag and show off your lavish new house HE bought you who only got with you as rebound from me and use as a fuck-toy. Pillow princess fucking shoulder candy?” She cusses back.

“nat fuck off.” Carol says

“No carol You know what Natasha, Yeah, that the fact that you’re just fucking mean You’ve been up my ass and jame’s ass so far that you cant seem to pull your self out. It’s bad enough you came dressed in the same fucking bikini as me. How about you go back to the mother fucking red room and get more of your uterus ripped out. Maybe that’s why bucky did you want you anymore hmm? A bitch cant be a fucking bitch with out being bred. This is my fucking house my fucking life, I’m sorry you fucked up yours so bad you have to be cunt to other people, but don’t accept my invite, come, and shit on me.” You rage at her. 

“YOU WANNA FUCKING TALK HUH!?” She stand water splashing. You stand as well. 

“YOU FUCKING KNOW IM RIGHT YOU FIRE HEADED SLUT!” You yell back at her before punching her she falls back into the hot tub. 

“Hey. HEY!” Bucky runs over to your both fitting in the tub you clearly winning as you hold her under the water. 

“DOLL!!? STOP IT!” He yells at you grabbing you easily and pulling you off her out of the water kicking and screaming. 

“Hey! Look at me!” He says 

“YOU FUCKING CUNT! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU BITCH!” You scream. 

“That’s enough from you!” Bucky says angrily before picking you up and putting you over his shoulder. 

Nat coughs and gasp finally getting air.

Bucky carries you inside and upstairs as you remain yelling slurs at nat who can clearly still hear you from how loud you’re yelling. 

“Stop it!” Bucky barks angrily at you putting you down on the bed. Caging you as he hovers of you. You immediately begin to break into a violent sob. 

“y/n. Whats wrong are you hurt?” He says worried about you. 

You shake your head gasping for air as you cry. 

“Baby talk to me what it?” He asks worriedly. 

“y-you used me!” You sob. 

“what? What No when have I ever used you?” He asks 

“You used me!! You used me as a rebound. A-a fuck-toy!!” You sob almost choking on air.

“doll look at me look, I’ve never used you. Ever. I put a ring on your finger becuase i love you, i want you for the rest of my life You make me so happy. Coming home from a long work weekend and seeing you dancing around the place of sleeping the bed makes me calm. Baby look at me.” He says but some how you cant stop crying now that you’ve started. 

“Shit doll come here.” He says his heart hurting knowing how easy it must’ve been to listen to Natasha. He pulls you up in a crunching hug not letting go as you cry in his arms. 

15 minutes pass and eventually you’ve knocked your self out with how much you cried. Bucky takes off your suit for you and puts you in comfy clothes in bed before storming out side to Nat. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He yells walking to nat who’s wrapped in a towel. 

“Her bucky shes my problem-” shes cut off by bucky grabbing her neck with his metal hand. 

“You Fucking come around me or her again i’ll fucking drown you myself. Dont you ever tell her lies and bullshit like that again do you understand me.” He huffs. She dosnt answer only prompting bucky to tighten his grip. 

“Y-yes..yes.” She pleads with him to let go. Which he does. 

Nat walks off leaving. 

“she okay?” Steve asks about you. Bucky nods. 

“she fell asleep. Thank you for coming but parties over.” He says.

“i’ll see you Monday.” He says bucky nods and walks the remaining people out before going back to you changing and getting into bed neck to you holding you in his arms before falling asleep himself. 

[pasukiyo]

YOU'RE ALWAYS GONNA BE MINE

| CHAPTER ONE

a royalty au. remus lupin x princess!reader. multi-part series. series masterlist.

word count; 4,521 summary; lord sirius is visiting the castle! the princess is more than enthusiastic to see her dear friend again but brunch doesn't go quite the way she planned, and now all she wants is to disappear, to run away and leave everything behind. remus belongs nowhere-- the forest is all he has ever known.

so even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless...

 “Forgive me, your highness, but it’s time to wake up!”

 She stirred in her sleep and groaned as Marlene drew the curtains away from the windows of her bedroom, sunlight spilling like an egg yolk inside the room. She squeezed her eyelids shut and dug her knuckles into them until she saw stars, arching her back off of the bed, feeling the delicious crack of her bones. “Is Lord Sirius here already?” The princess asked, her voice thick with sleep. She hoisted herself up into a sitting position, lids barely open as she found Marlene’s figure across the room, the midnight blue dress she had requested the night before draped over her arm. 

 “Not yet, as far as I know,” Marlene replied. “But soon. I insist, princess, you must get up now. We simply don’t have a second to waste. I’ve already drawn you a bath.” She grumbled as Marlene ripped the comforter off of her, her head lolling forward until the top of her head was flush against the mattress. “What happened to quiet, shy Marlene from last night?” The princess mumbled, hesitantly swinging her legs over the side of the bed, groaning as her feet met the floor below. 

 “You told me to stop acting like that, remember, princess?”

 She narrowed her eyes over at Marlene where she stood by the vanity, taking stock of everything she needed. “Hmph,” she huffed as she rose to her feet, stumbling over to the restroom where Marlene had drawn her a bath already, a towel neatly folded on a stool beside it. With half a mind, she slowly stripped herself of her nightgown, stepping into the burning hot water, hissing as she slowly sunk further in until her bum hit the bottom of the tub. 

 “Will you wear your hair down or in an updo today?” Marlene asked as the princess scrubbed her body, her skin white as she lathered herself with soap. “Down, if you will, Marls,” she replied simply, pouring water over her head, the bubbles sliding off her flesh. Her skin smelled of olive oil and a hint of lime, her hair like sage and thyme and at last, she was done, rising from the tub.

 She leaned over to grab her towel and wrap it around her body, and Marlene rushed over to the tub to take a hold of the princess’ hand, guiding her safely down to the floor. The princess willed herself to suppress her laugh as the handmaiden led her back behind the dressing screen where she slipped on her undergarments, Marlene practically shoving her into a corset. 

 The princess hissed as the handmaiden began to tighten and lace it, Marlene furrowing her eyebrows in apology. “So sorry princess,” she said as she laced the corset even tighter, until the seams were practically busting. The princess coughed, her teeth sinking down into the flesh of her bottom lip to help ease the discomfort. “No matter,” she sighed as Marlene grabbed the midnight blue dress draped over the top of the screen, rolling the skirt until the head was visible. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

 Finally, the dress was down over her head and Marlene made quick work of tugging it down the remainder of her body, tugging at the skirt until it laid on her hips perfectly. The princess blinked down at the dress before up at Marlene as the handmaiden stepped away, eyeing the fabric for any wrinkles she may have missed. 

 “So?” The princess spoke up, tilting her head at Marlene. “I trust I look pretty and comfortable?” The handmaiden pressed her lips together to stifle her snicker and nodded, “as always, highness.”

 Her lips curved into a grin as she followed Marlene to the vanity, sighing as she plopped down onto the stool, letting her handmaiden pull and tug at her hair and batter her face in as much makeup as she desired. As she was putting on the finishing touches to the princess’ makeup, three knocks rapped on the outside of the bedroom door and she glanced over at it from the corners of her eyes, sighing. 

 “Peter, no doubt,” she mumbled, “come in!”

 The door swung open and, really to no one’s surprise, in came Peter, eyeing the pocket watch in his hand. “You, your highness, have approximately five minutes before your father expects you to be down in the dining hall for brunch. Unfortunately, he asked that I escort you down there today.”

 She narrowed her eyes over at Peter as Marlene dabbed a little more blush to her nose and held her chin as she fought the urge to sneeze. “You always escort me, Peter,” she replied while Marlene stepped out of the way to allow her to gaze at herself in the mirror. 

 “Yes, and every time is more unfortunate than the last,” she watched Peter sigh and stuff his pocket watch into his coat through the mirror. 

 She rolled her eyes, “charming.”

 She turned back to face herself in the mirror, eyeing the way her hair curled, the way the corset of her dress squeezed her waist so tight, her bosoms had no choice but to press against the neckline of her gown. Marlene clasped a golden chain around her neck and her gaze ventured down to the dark pendant resting just below the space between her collarbones. It was a gift from Lord Sirius, she recalled, from the very first day they had met only a few years before when she was the age of sixteen and Sirius eighteen. He had officially become a Lord then, and despite it being his day, still insisted the royal princess be given the necklace. The corners of her mouth twitched at the memory. “Are you alright, highness?’ Marlene asked from beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder to help stir her from her daze. The princess clasped her hand around the pendant, her pad of her thumb soothing over the obsidian as she nodded, glancing up at the handmaiden.

 “Three minutes, highness,” Peter’s voice cut through the moment like a knife and her expression deflated again, turning around on the stool to face him. “Lord Sirius is waiting, may I remind you.”

 Her smile was quick to return to her lips. “Well, why didn’t you say so!” The princess exclaimed, practically leaping from her seat as she ambled towards the door, grasping the handle and swinging it open. She could hear Peter call her name as she lifted her dress and jogged down the corridor, peering back over her shoulder as Peter scrambled after her, Marlene on his left. “Slow down!” Peter called after her as she made her way down the staircase, nearly losing her balance on the skirt of her gown had it not been for Marlene clutching her elbow, allowing her to stumble into the railing.

 “Careful, princess!” Marlene hissed. “I didn’t spend all that time prettying you up for you to fall straight onto your face!” 

 She giggled and gripped the railing, walking the rest of the way down the staircase. “Sorry Marlene.”

 “Sorry Mar– how about sorry Peter!” Peter hissed behind them as he finally clambered down the stairs, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “Here I am— just doing my job! Why must you be so insolent…”

 “Oh, but Peter! Were you not the one trying to rush me?” She asked as they approached the dining hall, turning around to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. “You wouldn’t want to displease mother and father now, would you?” She laced her fingers together behind her back and grinned at the Royal Advisor as he sneered, stepping past her to push open the doors to the dining hall. “Princesses,” she just caught him muttering beneath his breath before following close behind, her parents and Sirius talking ahead. 

 Her smile widened when Sirius turned, dark gaze swift to catch hers, his lips curling into his own grin. “Your highness!” He exclaimed as she approached, a hand behind his back as with his other, he gingerly took her hand, bowing and placing a kiss to the back of it. “Always a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 Her eyes rolled at the formalities, a knowing glint in his eyes of dark obsidian when he lifted his chin. “You look beautiful. And what a pretty necklace,” he commented as she slipped her hand away from his, exhaling a laugh through her nostrils. “It was a gift from a dear friend. And you look very dashing. What shade of black are you wearing this time, Lord Sirius?” Sirius tipped his head back to laugh at this as her parents approached, her mother’s arm draped around her father’s. 

 “Nearly late, my dear,” the King said as she approached, rolling onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss to her father’s cheek. She furrowed her brow, “not quite. Peter made sure I was right on time, isn’t that right?” She turned towards where Peter stood to the side of the hall, his lips twisted in a tight-lipped grin to mask the sneer twitching at his lips. “Of course, highness,” he bowed his head, an eyelid narrowing in spite of the princess. 

 “Yes, well, I do suppose you’re hungry then? I’ve had Tobias make our famous meat stew for us today,” the Queen gestured towards the grand dining table, following close behind her husband as they circled around the table, finding their seats. Sirius stepped aside to allow the princess before him and her face illuminated with a soft grin as she ambled past, the Lord close behind. Before she could settle herself in her seat beside her father, Sirius reached out and closed his hand around the back of her chair, bowing his head when she turned to face him. 

 “Allow me, your highness,” he insisted and when she cocked an eyebrow at him, he flashed an eyelid in a wink, the corners of his lips twitching in an amused grin. She rolled her eyes as she bowed her head, murmuring her gratitude, voice laced in sarcasm. They both settled themselves in their seats as the royal house elves began placing down plates and silverware whilst she folded a handkerchief in her lap. An elf poured red wine in her father’s goblet and the King eyed Lord Sirius from over the rim of the cup. 

 “Lord Sirius, tell me,” her father began as a house elf placed a bowl of meat stew before her. “How is the trade?”

 She deflated at the topic of discussion, glancing over at Sirius as he spoke to her father. It had been awhile since she last saw him, a few months, at least. He hadn’t changed much, perhaps other than his raven black hair must have gotten longer. But when she looked closer, he seemed… tired, evident from the faint but somewhat visible circles beneath his eyes. It certainly didn’t take any away from his charming glow, no, he was still, in fact, as handsome as ever. Perhaps he just had a rough night, she thought to herself. Perhaps it was best not to ask. 

 Sirius must’ve felt her gaze on his pale skin, for he took almost every chance he could get to sneak glances her way, his lips twitching in levity as he listened to the King rant on and on about trade and merchants and whatnot. Quite frankly, she couldn’t find it within herself to care about anything her father said– she missed her friend, she missed Sirius. She was absolutely itching to finally get to talk to him again.

 A silence fell over the table for a fleeting moment and she turned away from Sirius to face her parents, her mother’s hand on her father’s arm, their lips unmoving but their connected gaze communicating every unspoken word. She furrowed her brow at this, wiping her lips with her handkerchief, her heart suddenly lurching in her chest. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that silence was never good.

 “Should we tell him, dear?” Her mother finally murmured close to her father’s ear and somehow, she seemed to already know the direction the conversation was about to take. The King shifted in his seat and set his goblet back down onto the table, a soft grin on his lips as he looked from his daughter back to Sirius.

 “Lord Sirius, it is to my understanding that you have met King Fleamont and his son James, yes?” Her father inquired, cocking an eyebrow as he awaited a response. Suddenly, she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. Her gaze fell to her lap and as Sirius shifted in his seat, she snuck a glimpse over to the man beside her. “Yes, your majesty,” Sirius replied, a brow raised quizzically. “Tell me, what do you make of them?” The King asked and she shuddered in her seat, her skin feeling hot like wax. 

 Why would he bring her betrothal up now of all times?

 A silence loomed once again as Sirius pondered his reply, his tongue swiping over his teeth as he eyed the bowl of near empty stew before him. He could sense the princess’ sudden discomfort but alas, as much as he wanted to change the subject for his dear friend’s sake, he and she both knew it would do neither of them well to ignore the King.

 “They’re good people,” he finally replied, nodding his head. “Wealthy. Powerful.”

 This seemed to please her father and she fiddled with her fingers in her lap as he hummed, leaning back in his seat. “It pleases me to hear that,” he replied, Sirius’ addled expression certainly not going unnoticed. “I ask you this, Lord Sirius, because your family has been dear friends to ours for generations, and I do believe in your better judgment.”

 Sirius nodded along, still somewhat confused but silent, anxiously waiting for the King to continue. The princess’ heart was thundering in her ears now and her chest burned, as if she’d been kissed by flames. She really did not like where the conversation was going now. 

 “I’ve accepted King Fleamont’s proposal to wed the princess to Prince James, you see.”

 She exhaled the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in, suddenly feeling the meat stew and wine bubbling in acid at her throat. She felt like she’d been set aflame, like she was the lava oozing over the mouth of a volcano. She wanted to move, she wanted to leave, she wanted to run.

 But her legs wouldn’t move. She was frozen, glued, stuck to her seat. 

 Sirius tried to mask his surprise, sneaking a swift glance down to the princess, able to sense her nerves just by the way she breathed, the way she seemed frozen still. 

 “You’ve… accepted, already?” Sirius stammered out, clearing his throat and hoping to play his apprehension off. He looked between the King and the Queen as they both shared glances, their daughter’s behavior certainly not going unnoticed yet, neither of them made any move to comfort her. It made Sirius almost tremble in anger— he knew better than to think they’d care for her, this was technically her destiny, after all. 

 But was it fair? Sirius wasn’t so sure. 

 “Yes, the prince should be arriving in two to three days’ time,” the King continued, scooping his goblet back up in his hand, taking a swig of wine. “He‘ll be staying in the castle for a few weeks and I do hope you’re able to stop by every so often, I’m sure he could use a friend, someone he already knows.”

 He was speaking as if she weren’t there, as if her mind wasn’t feeling, her heart drumming so fast she’d fear it was prone to explode at any given moment. Of course she’d heard of her betrothal in passing but to hear it now, to hear her parents speak of it so casually, to think that they have made their own decision without having so much as a word with her… she wished she could disappear, she wished she could be anywhere but here. 

 She turned her head, glancing over at Sirius as he cleared his throat, catching her gaze for a brief moment before turning to acknowledge the King once again. He pressed his lips together and hummed, “of course, your majesty,” he replied. “Also, I think you ought to know, I recall the prince particularly fancying lamb.”

 He was trying to change the subject, for the princess’ sake, of course. Fortunately, the Queen took the bait and began interrogating him over everything the prince fancies or doesn’t fancy or what he thinks the prince might come to fancy, meanwhile the princess was still trying to anchor herself down to the conversation at hand. She was doing her best to make it seem like she was there even if she was, in fact, not. The dining hall seemed to fade away, her mother, her father, Peter, Marlene, Sirius, everyone along with it. Sirius’ attempt at changing the topic of discussion became nothing more than a mere background murmur, her vision blurring to watercolor. 

 All she wanted was for brunch to be over, to speak to Sirius and Sirius alone. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take sitting here, having marriage beat into her head before her tears slipped down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she knew Marlene worked so hard on. She couldn’t take one of her mother’s lectures either about how princesses shouldn’t cry, how she was ridiculous and stupid for being so upset over marriage. How she should feel proud, honored that such a well-off, handsome young prince was her betrothed. 

 All she wished to do now was curl into a ball, even willing the very chair she sat on to absorb her until she was nothing. Disappearing was better than having to exist in a world that has already written her destiny for her, she supposed. 

 The princess sniffled as the King and Queen rose from their seats, turning to speak to Tobias, one of the many royal house elves and the main chef. Sirius was swift to seize the moment, reaching for her hand beneath the table and sliding his fingers into her closed fist, the pad of his thumb soothing over her skin. 

 “Are you alright?” He asked in a soft murmur and she pressed her lips together, willing her weeping to remain lodged in her throat, her body trembling with the effort. She couldn’t reply, for if she opened her lips, she would most certainly break into a fit of loud, violent sobs. So, instead, her tears fell silently in river streams down her cheeks, her head shaking in response. 

 Sirius glanced up to where the King and Queen stood with Tobias and Peter, their backs all turned to the two who remained at the table. Marlene was standing off in the corner of the room, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t watching the Lord and the princess. Sirius wouldn’t have minded if she was— all he cared about was his dear friend. His free arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and pulled her quivering body against him, briefly maneuvering his hand out of hers to wipe at her tears with the back of his knuckles. 

 “There, there,” he whispered as he let her squeeze his hand again, inhaling deep through her nose, doing her best to gather her composure. 

 “I can’t do this, Sirius,” she hardly managed to whimper, her lips trembling. “I don’t… I don’t want this.”

 His hand gripped her shoulder as she sniffed again, dabbing at her under eyes with her handkerchief, praying to whoever it was above that she still looked presentable. Sirius pulled away when the King turned to address him again and the princess blinked away all the tears she could as she rose from her seat, standing beside him. 

 Marlene rushed towards the princess as Sirius quickly divided the King and Queen’s attention away from their daughter, an arm wrapped around her shoulders where Sirius’ had been, using her handkerchief to dab at the smeared makeup on her cheeks. “Your highness…” she murmured, the princess sniffing, furiously rubbing at her tear-stained cheeks. 

 “This isn’t going to happen, Marls,” she whispered. “I won’t let it.”

 Remus’ bones cracked and ached as he stirred awake, a soft grunt slipping between his lips and his eyelids squeezed together, the sunlight pouring inside the room straining his eyes. It was well past morning— that much Remus could gather, which wasn’t uncommon after waking up from a night of great pain. 

 He laid there for a number staring up at the ceiling, wishing he could lie around in bed all day, wallowing in his own pity. But his father would be wondering where he was, he supposed, and he never wanted to seem like he was intruding on Sirius or taking advantage of his friend. 

 So, despite his creaking bones and aching limbs, he pushed his way onto his elbows, hissing through his teeth as he managed himself up into a sitting position. He paused for a moment to gather himself, blinking the rest of the sleep away from his eyes while his mouth parted in a yawn. He rolled his neck as he swung his throbbing legs over the side of the mattress, stumbling onto his feet and tidying the bed to the best of his ability.  

 He strode up to the mirror on the opposite side of the room, running his fingers through the wild mess of unkempt brown locks atop his head, his mind still a foggy haze from sleep. He didn’t loiter much longer, staying long enough to fix his coat back on his shoulders, pawing at the sleeves as he crept his way down the steps of the home and towards the back door. He’d grown used to this routine, Sirius’ house always his haven when he had transformation-related pain, never wanting to burden his father more than he already had. 

 The sun gleamed down at him as Remus stepped out onto the street, its light kissing his skin and making his eyes narrow. He breathed the autumn chill in, his lungs full of crisp air and burning like tree bark. His house was on the other side of the village— the poor side, to put it bluntly, of course. Before meeting Sirius— which was completely by chance, for the record— Remus never dared set foot on this side of town, never dared even look at this part of the village. He was bitter then and admittedly, still bitter now. How could some be so well off and comfortable when there were others hardly getting by, hardly even living at all?

 He assumed all people of wealth were snobs, that they sneered at the mere thought of the less fortunate ones. Which was why it came as a total shock when he met Sirius to learn that he was a Lord, one of the wealthiest in the village, in fact, and that he was so close to the royal family. It would’ve been enough to make Remus wrinkle his nose in disgust and wish to never see him again— which was why he was so surprised when he realized that he didn’t push Sirius away. 

 Remus huffed as he turned down his street, his dingy, little house one of the many on the poor, beaten-down road. He passed by many of his neighbors, sparing them not even so much as a glance as he padded up to his front door— which was leaning to the side and falling off its hinges. Carefully, he twisted the knob and pushed open the wooden door, its creak permeating the small room he had no other choice but to call home. 

 “Remus?” A low, husky voice called from the other side of the room where Lyall Lupin sat in a rickety old wooden rocking chair, his fingernails burrowing further in the divets they’d already created in the arm rests. “Is that you?”

 “Yes, father,” Remus replied as the door slammed shut behind him, its bang loud and scattering dust. “Where have you been?” Lyall questioned as Remus shuffled his feet towards the paper thin mattress he called a bed, its size not nearly big enough to hold his long legs. “You didn’t come home at all last night.”

 Remus cupped a hand on the back of his neck and rolled his head, lips falling agape in a soft sigh at the delicious crack of his bones. “I’m fine, dad,” he responded, reaching for his knapsack tucked away in the corner behind his bed. “I was just out… thinking.”

 Of course his father appeared skeptical of this, his mustache twitching as he twisted his lips and narrowed his eyes over at his son. “You’re not hurting again, are you?” Lyall asked. “The full moon isn’t for another couple of weeks, you shouldn’t be—“

 “I said I’m fine, dad!” Remus’ voice thundered and shook the walls of their home and he sighed, dropping his head as he shouldered his oversized coat back onto his frame. “I’m not a child anymore, you don’t have to worry about me.”

 Lyall’s teeth chewed at the inside of his lip as he pondered what to say next, his tongue twisting in his mouth. “You are my son, Remus. My duty as your father is to worry about you,” he began. “Your mother— your mother, she… she—“

 Remus was like the frayed end of a rope as a flame rolled down the length, at the end of his limit and ready to pop. He wasn’t sure if it was his transformation pushing him to his limit or if he was just tired, but all he knew was that he couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing his eyelids shut before turning on his father, skin hot and blaring with frustration. 

 “Mum’s not here anymore, dad! When will you open your eyes and see that?” He practically roared, the walls shaking with the aftershocks of his fervor and Lyall’s lips snapped back closed. His father’s lids were blown wide, his fingers were rolled into his palms, his bottom lip was quivering, and his chest was heaving with his irregular breathing— in Remus’ eyes, this was fear. 

 His father was afraid of him. 

 And once again, Remus was reminded of how much of a burden he was to everyone he knew. 

 Neither Remus nor Lyall said anything more as the former turned on his heels to make his way back towards the creaking door, a shaking hand tugging it wide open and letting it fall shut behind him as he stepped back out onto the street, uncaring if it fell straight off its hinges. He couldn’t be here, not at his home, not in this village, anywhere. He needed to be alone— so he went to the only place he knew. 

 Remus maneuvered his way between crumbling buildings and withered handcarts as he ventured further into the outskirts of town where the forest outstretched its arms at the sight of him, welcoming him into its embrace. 

a/n; i'm sorry the first chapter was rather uneventful but i can say with certainty that the next chapter will be where all the fun begins :) i still hope you were able to enjoy chapter one and i thank you all for your support on the prologue, it makes me so happy to see you guys already feeling hype for this story! i certainly hope i won't let you down :) and remember to fill out the taglist form in my pinned post if you'd like to be added to this series' taglist!

TAGLIST !!

@cancelledkaley

@burns-in-the-sun

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[madsims4finds]

Sooo Paralives and the Brainwashing EA has done

It's funny. Paralives launched a gameplay video that looks really good, along with some announcements. One of them being that they won't be offering paid DLC. I was watching Satch on Sims and him, plus a few other people, seem to think this is a bad move.

No shade, but it's easy to tell people who don't really game and all they play is the Sims. Like EA got yall so brainwashed that you actually think you're SUPPOSED to be getting charged for base game features.

His concern was wanting a different world to play in or different aethitics. Who said we can't get that for free? We may not know what all features Paralives are going to offer, but what rule says that they can't give us another world to play in for free? I mean literally, there are so many games that do free updates and only offer DLC if it's a niche theme that not everyone would be into, or if they're adding ADDITIONAL gameplay that has no resemblance to what's already in the game.

Only EA removes base game features just to sell them back to you later. Or expect you to buy a multitude of different DLCs that have the exact same theme or niche. Now don't mind me while I gripe on this point a little.

Growing Together and Parenthood should have been one generations themed pack.

Discover University and High School Years should have been one pack focused on education.

All of the occults (vamps, wolves, witches, ghosts, aliens, mermaids, plant people) all should have been in ONE paranormal pack.

Features from Dine Out should have been included in Get to Work. There was no need for that to be seperate DLC when they both relate to active careers.

For Rent and City Living should have been one pack.

Simple features that should not be locked behind a pay wall, and I'm not even talking weather. Like why do I have to buy DLC just for my sims to have access to a hot tub (Perfect Patio), an ice cream maker (Cool Kitchen), a popcorn maker (movie night), for them to have the ability to carve a pumpkin or have different holloween costumes, when Holloween is a holiday that comes in the base game with base game ability to trick or treat, etc. (Spooky Stuff), I have to buy Vintage Glamour just to have a butler (if anything the butler should have been in get famous along with everything in the luxury stuff pack. These are all things that should just be base game that they force you to buy DLC to have access to.

And speaking of weather, I do feel like packs like seasons, pets, laundry day, bust the dust, and my wedding stories should all be base game features. Yeah I don't care if we're used to paying for stuff like seasons and pets, things can and should change. These are all life basics, why am I paying extra?

Now I'm not all negative. There are packs that actually make sense. Get Famous makes sense. So does Island Living, Strangervile, all the vacation packs (jungle, outdoor, snowy). Hell, even Journey to Batuu made sense. Yeah, hear me out. These are all OPTIONAL packs. Stuff that not everyone is going to play with but they each bring something different to the game. Now whether any of these packs are filled to the brim with playable content, thats another story. But at least the concept makes sense.

Okay, off my soapbox and moving on.

I will forever and always use No Man's Sky as an example of a development team that chose integrity over money. That team has been releasing update after update for YEARS. Significant updates too. Updates that completely change the gameplay mechanics, adds brand new features to the game, or updates/changes the look of the game. All for free. Yes, it's normal. Not normal in the sense that these companies should be releasing broken games or not delivering on promises to begin with, but at least they weren't money-hungry assholes about it. The amount of updates that game has, quite a few could have been paid DLC and they didn't do that. Now if they started releasing DLC with specialty ships or different cosmetic features, I would have no problem paying for that cause it's optional.

Paralives knows what they're doing. As long as they are focused on making the base game everything it's supposed to be, I don't see why they couldn't sell the type of optional DLC that makes sense in the future. But I'm certainly not going to say that they're making a mistake by not having paid DLC right now.

I can definitely see them adding things like weather, a new life stage, or new clothes/build objects for free and that's dope. I'm excited about Paralives more so than Life By You. But either way, I'm just glad EA has competition in the life simulation genre now that isn't just about farming management.

[thr-333]

I’ve had most of this in my drafts for at least since the first few comics of mystic tots. The only reason I didn’t post it was because I didn’t now how to continue the scene with Raph. Well now I’ve gotten my ass in gear and finished it off. So have an excerpt from this au that is a full arc late.

Lou was starting to understand why his ancestors had been so ready to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. He would too if that meant an eternity of rest. Although with his luck the shredder would turn out to be real and it would be more like an eternity of violence and endless suffering.

He should have never become an actor. He should have found a farm in the middle of nowhere somewhere and sat in a rocking chair until he was old and grey. Now he was young, grey and no rocking chair in sight.

“Dada up,” little hands slapped at his face pulling on his ears.

“No Dada sleep,” Lou tried to roll over, hands fisting in his hair coming along for the ride, “Orange night night,”

“Dada up,” His youngest insisted a hot patch growing on his scalp.

“Alright! Dada up! Dada up!” Lou bolted upright his fire hellion giggling delightfully, “I happen to like my hair, as greasy and disgusting as it is,”

Orange giggled letting go of his hair and falling a touch too slowly to be natural gravity… hm probably not a good sign but that's a tomorrow him problem.

“I thought I left you in your cot?” Lou scooped up his youngest blowing raspberries on his shell, chasing away the last embers of heat, “Did Blue break you out again? Did he? Did he?”

“Bu! Bu!” Orange kicked his legs smiling widely, that was also a plus. Probably wouldn’t get to see that on a farm.

“Yes yes let’s go find Blue,” Lou rolled off the alley mattress he had placed on the floor. He needed to find a bed frame or some cinder blocks at some point. Not because his knees and back were getting creaky he refused to admit it. As far as he was concerned time simply didn’t pass in the sewers. No mirrors, no cameras, no wrinkles.

Before getting up properly he slid an oven mitt on and one of those arm protector things he was pretty sure was from hockey. He held Orange in his mitted hand rubbing his eyes with his free arm. He couldn’t have gotten more than three hours of sleep. Which was honestly more than he was expecting but probably not a good thing if Blue had been galavanting about.

Lou stopped by the nursery first. It was clear of any fire hazard furniture other than the four ‘cribs’ Containment Required for Incredible Baby sh- Well the last part probably wasn’t very family friendly.

Reds was a very nice comfortable pile of (shredded) blankets… with a flipped over crib stacked tall with random items and furniture. Or at least it was supposed to be the crib was flipped over, furniture scattered and Red nowhere to be seen.

Blue’s was close by because Red liked having his brothers near. Honestly Lou wasn’t sure what to do with that one. He always tucked him in very snugly and had a bungee cord tethering him to the crib. Not that it ever worked since the crib was empty, bungee cord snapped.

Orange’s was actually a busted up clawfoot tub, with very shallow water. Sue him for child endangerment and all that but he was pretty sure that ship had sailed when he was forced to move them down into the sewer. Say what you will but it had an almost one hundred percent success rate(when Blue didn’t interfere) keeping orange in and the lair not burnt down.

Purple had a verifiable mountain of pillows and blankets. Lou would like to pretend that was for good parenting reasons but some days it felt more like a bribery to convince the soft shell to stay put. A makeshift wall was formed around it with old pieces of wood held up by loose bricks and a few chairs. That was usually enough to keep him from accidentally rolling away. 

“At least one of you can appreciate sleep,” Lou sighed, taking a closer look at the curled up soft shell. His head snapped up when Lou’s head came into view holding his arms out demanding attention, “Or not,”

Lou balanced Orange in one hand thankful his boys were small enough to fit in his hands. He didn’t know how he was going to survive when plucking them up wasn’t an option anymore. Purple kept making grabby hands demanding to be held which Lou had full intentions of doing right up until his knuckles cracked painfully against a suddenly there purple shield.

“Ow-dammit! Don’t repeat that,” He told both the hatchlings very seriously. Orange giggled because he was secretly a sadist. Purple gave him a mighty baby glare tearing up insisting more to be held, “Purple, sweetie, honey, I can’t help you until you take down your shield,”

He said for what had to be the thousandth time. Once again for the thousandth time Purple proceeded to cry while his walls kept up.

“Alright, buddy I’m sorry I really can’t go through this with you right now, I need to go find your brothers,” Who were both missing and in best case scenario just tearing up the lair. Not some government officials house who would have the means and motivation to track them down and destroy them out of revenge. This is why he should know better than to fall asleep, “But that does not mean I am abandoning you, I will be back… soonish,”

He attempted to back away, Purple glaring at him the whole while. He made it to the exit wiping his brow in relief as the crying died down-- then started up screaming at twice the volume.

“Whhahhyyyiiiyy,” Lou whined looking down at orange who was gnawing gummily at his oven mitt, “I can’t abandon him can I? Alright purple you win but you’re not going to like it,”

Lou went back kicking aside one of the panels. From there it was a slow process of gently rolling(kicking) Purple in front of him. The turtle didn’t like getting rocked around any more but it was his own choice. This could probably be applied in some life lesson somewhere. So technically this was good parenting.

“Oh I know you’re not pleased with me,” Lou told his son, stopping for a second to reposition the orb to get around the kitchen doorway, the softshell glared up at him, “But consider this,” he kicked the sphere forward sending Purple tumbling through it, “Oh ho ho… I’m a terrible parent,”

Splinter chuckled miserably to himself, following his son into the kitchen. Purple bumped against the bench unharmed but dizzy. The kitchen on the other hand was very much harmed. Lou was glad Purple was in the bubble because there was shattered dishes all over the floor. Cupboards were thrown open and the left overs they had was thrown across the counter, a striped turtle looking up at him guilty.

“Blue,” Lou said in warning. A blue glow started under him his boy disappearing through it. Lou went on high alert looking around the kitchen for a sign of his son reappearing, “Blue!”

A portal reappeared dropping Blue over the glass covered floor. Lou ran lunging to make up the distance. He landed on the broken shards hissing as they dug and cut into him. His hands remained outstretched just off from where his baby blue was falling, his son hurtling towards the hazardous floor making Lou’s heart stop… a portal appeared just in front of his hands, Blue disappearing never touching the floor.

Lou hardly had a second to sigh in relief before he was up again and looking for the next portal. Luckily enough it formed not far away and he just had to reach out half lunging over the counter to catch  the hatchling.

“Gotcha,” Lou caught Blue in one hand juggling orange in the other. Both of his sons giggling at him. It was cute until the moment of panic wore off and he became aware of the piece of glass digging into him as he pressed against the counter, “Ow ow,”

Lou didn’t have time to remove the jagged shards sticking out of him. Both of his hands full he carefully tiptoed over to purple kicking him to the next room. It was a lounge of sorts given the face he had only managed to drag one arm chair in here. Lou dumped Blue and Orange in their makeshift playpen, a wooden crate that hadn’t been set on fire yet. He wedged Purple under the footrest so he wouldn’t go rolling anywhere before collapsing into the chair with a sigh.

He took a moment to groan loudly but he couldn’t wallow too long. He was still down one son and filled with glass. Lou started to pry the pieces out of him. Luckily he was wearing jeans so all but a few large pieces had missed his legs. Same with his torso, most were fairly shallow and easy to find. The worst of it was his arms, which he had to bring the tweezers out to get all the pieces. Thank goodness his mutation had at least given him increased healing, with these kids he needed it.

Lou stood up, he would still need to bandage the cuts but that could be done after he had found and made sure Red was safe. Blue and orange were occupying themselves with the rattle Lou had made by putting a couple of screws in a container. He knew soon they would start fighting over it but for now it wasn’t a fire hazard. Purple was pushing against his shield trying to free himself from being wedged under the footstool.

“All of you stay put, I’m looking at you blue,” He told the turtle seriously, Blue happily babbled back at him, “I need to go find red,”

“RaRa!”

“Yes RaRa- NO Blue!” In a flash of light Lou was in freefall, barely registering the change before he was landing in a dumpster in a place too bright to be the sewers. There were dogs barking and growling not far from him and the bustling sounds of passersby a little further away.

Lou groaned letting his head thunk back against a very nice soft rusted washing machine. Well if he wasn't at risk of infecting his cuts living in the sewers they definitely were now. He’d have to raid a pharmacy for antibiotics on their way back to the sewers from wherever in New York Blue had dropped him. 

Speaking of, he pushed himself up looking around the alley. Sure enough one end had a busy street with people too busy to look down the narrow gulley even with the dogs barking up a ruckus. Lou cast a wary look at them doubling back when he saw what they had been barking at.

“Red!” He jumped out of the bin grabbing a busted up piece of what had once been a broom.

He hit the nearest mutt surrounding his son. The boy wrapped up in his larger projection cowering against a wall. The others snapped their attention to him growling. Lou hissed in turn not entirely conscious he was doing it as he started hitting the dogs causing enough grief the pack decided they weren’t worth it.

Lou growled lowly at their retreat, his fur on end. He tried to shake himself out of it. Or find it in himself to be ashamed at the animalistic behavior, but that was hard when it helped protect his son.

“Oh little Red,” He cooed the hatchlings projection still pressed against the wall.

Lou could only hope that New York lived up to their reputation and no one spared a second glance at the rat man and his giant red son in the alleyway. Lou held out his hands trying to encourage Red to jump down to them. Instead the giant version of his son leant down until his head was resting in Lou’s hands.

“It’s alright sweetie,” He cradled the projection, patting his son’s head while looking inward to the small snapper hidden within, “Dada’s got you,”

Red whined reaching out to grab him. Lou winced as he was crushed in the too strong baby grip smooshing him against the red energy field. Half his face was pressed up against it inside he could see the real Red trying to reach out for him.

Lou smiled sadly, how scary for his boys to have powers completely out of their control. He didn’t struggle doing his best to comfort his son through the projection until he felt safe enough to take it down.

When it finally dissipated Lou’s fast reflexes from always catching Blue kicked in scooping up Red no problem. The snapper giggled as Lou cradled him close. He smiled, booping him on the snout quickly pulling back before Red could live up to his species name.

“What do you say we try to find Dada a pharmacy then sneak into a sewer and try to find our way home?” Red squealed which Lou took to mean agreement.

Thanks to Blue he had already gotten a crash course in getting around the city so soon enough they were back in the sewers close to home. He heard the damages his sons had wrought on their lair before he saw it. Good thing he kept that dumpster broom.

“Blue you’re in big trouble young man,” He called into the lair. 

The boys were still in the living room. The crate was on fire Purple in the middle of it protected by his force field. A random assortment of items were thrown around things from basketballs to surfboards, a roller skate and a pile of odd socks. So perhaps Blue had been trying to get them back and Lou couldn’t be too mad. Other than the fact it provided Orange with more kindling. 

“Go wrangle them up for me,” He set Red on the ground patting the snapper on the head and the rat went to grab a fire extinguisher. 

Both Blue and Purple had instantly flocked to Red’s side climbing over the snapper and patting his head. Orange was attempting to do the same but was still on fire. Thankfully a combination of Red and Purple force fields were keeping him at bay. Interestingly enough the colors seemed to be flowing into each other where they intersected.

Ignoring that for now Lou went about putting out fires, including orange. The hatchling was never pleased to be doused but got over it when it meant he could finally join his brothers. Putting the near spent fire extinguisher aside, Lou scooped up his sons. Grateful that his chair was only half singed he sunk down in it cradling the turtles close.

“You four run me absolutely ragged,” He complained to the squealing giggling tots. 

Orange was attempting to climb him, making a suspicious beeline for his hair. No thank you Lou could still smell the burning from the goatee incident. Blue opened up a portal above them. A shiny crown fell from it directly onto Lou’s head. He tried not to worry where that had just been stolen from as the portal closed behind it. Hopefully the news reports would make up something outlandish like a heist rather than the reality of mutant magic turtles.

Purple decided he both did and didn’t want to be held. Creating a field around him and smooshing Red into the crux of Lou’s elbow. The snapper didn’t seem to mind teething on the one patch of skin Lou hadn’t bandaged. Considering his jaw strength that would likely change. But telling him off was a slippery slope into giant tantrum time.

Lou smiled, squeezing all of them close.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,”

[arthurrei07]

actverse / take on swap!sans / pt. 2

tws: mentioned v10lence, curse words, mentioned accidental drüg usage, bl00d, implied nüdity, implied minor character dë4ths, mentioned g0re.

ship: dreamberry.

(the tws are a bit violent but the story is not as bad as the tws. stay safe either way 💓)

~

“Dream.”

Swap watched Dream dip his pen into the ink case, cling it around in the glass and pull it back as the pitch black ink dripped on the surface of the wooden desk, and then onto the document. Dream, furiously, scribbled something on the paper; the thick liquid messing the original paper as it wetted it.

“Dream.” Swap called out again, his hoarse voice cracking as he talked. As he got no response, he budged towards Ink—yanking his own spear from his hands as Ink flinched back. His right hand fixed its grip on his spear as it nearly slipped through his bloody fingers, and Swap harshly banged the staff on the marble floor.

Dream flinched at the loud noise, his head perking up from the desk. And Swap saw the terror in his eye; absolutely stunned by the mix of green leaking from Swap’s mouth and nose as more dark green stained his clothes, black and red garnishing all over his face and well, solidified hair.

He bolted up from his place, an ear-killing screech rising from the chair as it bulged back.

“Swap? What—What in the stars?” Dream tried to get rid of his coat as he pulled it off of his backside, hurriedly scooting away from the desk.

“What in the stars? Are you fucking kidding me?” Swap left his spear down on the floor as the metal part rattled around with a loud clank and aggressively shook his hand in the air, his blood splattering onto the ground.

His orbs followed Dream as he creeped up to him, Dream’s face turning pale.

“What—What happened?” Dream’s eyes ran up to meet with Swap’s, Swap’s eyes boring back into Dream’s.

“My universe is gone, is what happened,” Swap licked his lips, his spit burning the busted wounds as his face scrunched sourly. Swap huffed out of his clogged nose, the flowing blood spilling out as it dripped onto his armor from his chin.

Dream took a full glance at Swap before turning to Ink — then to Swap again. His eyes narrowed, “Are you… influenced?”

“—He got shot by a bear tranquilizer,” Ink blurted out as Swap just started talking, earning a half assed glare from him. Ink’s voice lowered as if Swap wouldn’t acknowledge him when he talked, “…Murder got him from his butt.”

“That fucking bastard. Shot me from my butt? How dare he—“ Swap’s passive-aggressive muttering faded into something like a shrill whisper and his eyes blinked, not syncing. He felt himself wobble on his feet—almost as if he was swaying in the bare air — wind swinging him around, and he would have most probably crashed on the floor if it wasn’t from Dream.

“Alright. Let’s get you bandaged up. You too, Ink.” Dream lifted Swap onto his chest as he got him in a bridal position in his arms, carrying him out of his office.

Swap could barely make out what Dream and Ink spoke about, his ears receiving the soft whispers only as faint, passing sounds. His head pulsed with every passing moment, his eyes fading in and out of focus. He was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Suddenly, after a good while of just black, a burst of cold water hit his body, jolting him fully back to consciousness. The sudden temperature change caused him to gasp — his body coming back to its senses.

Swap shivered, teeth clattering as he and Dream made eye contact.

“I need you to bear with me until I get you clean,” Dream’s eyes darted back to the faucet, turning the switch to hot.

Right. Swap’s focus shifted on the tub, and he was literally in his own blood in it. Not only that but his body was covered in grime, sweat and dirt. Water did little to help in this situation, only causing him to groan every time it burnt his injured skin.

He could only imagine what Dream was obligated to see—and feel, since he was going to bathe him, sticky and green blood — dotted with pieces of dirt.

The whole scene was truly disgusting.

“It’s fine,” Dream said, his voice soft. He reached out for what seemed like a bottle of shampoo, getting a bit of it into his left palm as he placed the bottle down somewhere on the ground — cupping both of his hands until the shampoo separated equally.

“Alright,” Dream got closer and Swap noticed that he had got rid of all of his fancy clothes — just in his black bodysuit, “I am going to wash your head. Do you have any wounds there?”

Swap sighed, “No.”

And Dream’s tender hands started stroking his hair, rubbing and massaging his scalp. Swap felt his rock solid hair soften under his palms, and the shampoo started to foam up. Swap huffed as his pounding head relaxed when Dream rubbed his temples, his body unclenching from the firm grip.

Dream took the header, gently rinsing Swap’s hair as the blood and the foam ran down from his shoulders and down to his body. Swap groaned as the shampoo stung his wounds — and suddenly realized—oh Gods, he was naked?

A weird sense of panic took him over, but was immediately calmed down by Dream’s thumb rubbing over to his shoulder.

Dream said nothing, but Swap could feel that he was also low key embarrassed.

Next up was his body. Every time Dream tried to softly clean his wounds, Swap hissed painfully — his nails digging into his own laps.

Dream basically did what he could do as Swap kept jerking away, at least got to clean the dirt off.

Then, warm water poured down from his hair again, the dirt getting off him and down into the drain hole.

After they were done, Dream took a towel from the side, softly pressing it against his hair as he drained it. Then, he lowered it down to his body, wrapping him with it. Swap’s mind filled with the scent of Dream, and wondered if it was Dream’s towel or if he was in Dream’s chambers.

Dream gently brushed Swap’s bangs out of his eyes, and then cupped his cheeks, taking a look at his lips, “…Who busted your lips? They look—uh, fine, but—“

“—Don’t lie, Mr. Smiles and Rainbows,” Swap flinched when Dream’s thumb stroked his bottom lip, “I know that they look bad as shit.”

They shared some glances, Dream’s worried and Swap’s a bit frustrated, and Swap decided to speak up, “…Killer. He punched me because I stabbed Murder.”

“You stabbed Murder?” Dream breathlessly let out, his teeth baring up, “You stabbed Murder.”

“I am not a fragile little Nymph. I don’t play ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ when someone fucks up my territory to the ground,” Swap scoffed, a pastel colored blood ran down from one of his nostrils, and he quickly sniffed it back.

“…About your universe,” Dream’s palms backed up from Swap’s face and to the tub’s edge, fingers pattering in the edge one by one as he opened his mouth to talk—getting cut off by Swap.

“—Other than Papyrus — who literally got his arm torn out, everyone is pretty much dead.”

Swap couldn’t help but gaze up at the white ceiling, his fingers slowly tracing the edge of the tub as he finally felt as if the tranquilizer had worn off, and actually struggled to take in the extent of the damage.

Alphys, Asgore, Undyne were gone. Not only them, everyone was gone.

As his breaths mingled in the warm air, his throat hurt. Swap kept his eyes rested on the ceiling, his mind still trying to process what had happened—the deaths of everybody he knew and cared about.

“…Let’s bandage you up, alright? We can talk about this later.”

“…Okay.”

~

Swap/Blue Sans belongs to the AU Community

Dream Sans belongs to @jokublog

Ink Sans belongs to @comyet

Murder/Dust Sans belongs to @ask-dusttale

Killer Sans belongs to @rahafwabas

Actverse belongs to me

~

hoped you liked it!! dreamberry are my babies 😭😭🥺🥺