#his face scrunching as the wind whipped his hair into his face

[toyogamii]

pt.1 pt.2

“i didn’t take you for the sit down restaurant type, ryo,” you bring your drink up to your lips and offer him a teasing smirk. he huffs and pulls at the collar of his black button down.

he doesn’t know how the hell you managed to get him, ryomen sukuna, resident town bad ass; on an actual date. but the way that sweet nickname you’ve taken to calling him rolls of your tongue might have something to do with it.

“hah, I’m usually not… figured you might be though,” he mumbles the last part, his ears turning a slight pink and you grin.

“well i appreciate you trying something new for me,” you look around at the candles and the suits and ties and most importantly at the gorgeous tattooed man in front of you (who looks so awkward in the most adorable way possible).

“however,” you continue, “i’d much rather you be comfortable for our date.”

“yeah?” he asks, giving you a grateful smile.

you nod.

“wanna get outta here?”

he flashes you a charming grin.

“hell yeah… though you might regret asking that, sweetheart.”

mere moments later you’re flying down the road, your heart pounding as you hold tight to sukuna’s waist. he’s graceful and calm as he drives the motorcycle but that does little to slow your breathing.

you’re wearing his helmet, but even through the darkened screen you can still see just how handsome he is. the street lights give him a halo like effect and the wind whips through his pink hair, pushing it out of his face.

“just a couple more minutes, doll!” he hollers over the sound of the wind and you nod, leaning your head on his broad back as best you can.

when he finally comes to a stop and you get off, your legs are still shaking and you take just a minute to gather yourself before looking around.

“takin me to a second location to dump my body off?” you ask, a brow raised.

sukuna gives you a dead pan look and pulls the helmet off your head. he freezes for just a minute as he takes in the way your hair is a mess and your makeup is a bit smudged but your eyes are crinkling and your smile is- god your smile is gonna fucking kill him one of these days.

“not funny,” he replies when he finally moves, flicking your forehead. you scrunch your face into a pout and god he wants to kiss you silly.

“where are we exactly?”

“come on.”

he turns and walks off and you hurry to catch up with him, slipping your hand into his. it takes everything in him not implode. your hand is warm and soft and so much smaller than his.

you’re killing him, he thinks, and yet… he doesn’t really seem to mind it. usually, the sound of someone rambling on and on would annoy the piss out of him. but listening to you chatter as he guides the both of you through the dark and dense patch of trees… if you’re killing him, he could die a happy man.

“we’re here,” he says. you peek around in him and gasp softly. you’re on a hill, overlooking the entirety of your home town. the street lights blare and you can hear the faint sounds of the city but the contrasting of the soft twinkling stars and the warmth of sukuna’s hand in yours has you reeling.

“it’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“i used to take yuuji here… before i had full custody of him. just to get him away from all… that.”

you nod and rest your head on his shoulder, not pushing him any further.

“i’m sure he loved it.”

sukuna chuckles and his arm makes its way around your waist.

“yeah, little brat would cry and cry when we had to leave. he won’t even remember it when he’s older though.”

you look up at him only to see he’s already looking down at you.

“you’ll remember it.”

“… yeah.”

there’s silence, a pause where time stops and suddenly the rest of the world fades away to nothing. it’s just you and him in a little bubble, away from all the craziness of the world.

before you can open your mouth to say anything, sukuna’s lips on yours. the kiss is everything that he isn’t; soft, gentle, hesitant. your arms come up to wrap around his neck and his grip on your waist tightens.

he never wants to stop kissing you. he can’t get enough of the way your tongue feels sliding against his and how your body trembles slightly as he holds you.

yeah… you’re gonna kill him one of these days, he just knows it.

pt. 4

[solbaby7]

Killing Me Softly

pairing: cassian x reader

[ part 2 ]

warnings: swearing, violence, blood, jealous themes, angst

summary: [based off that episode in greys were Mer got beaten by that patient who didn’t remember anything when they woke up]

—

It had started out as a normal fight.

Something small and fixable.

But somewhere along the way, things had snowballed and the playful Cassian you’d always known had disappeared before your very eyes. “You have a responsibility,” His tone is firm; slightly condescending and you can feel the attitude beginning to form when his arms cross over his chest. Cassian shoulders squared out, spine straight and wings pulled taut as he stood his ground. “The answer is no.”

“Cass, you’re not even listening. I told you I had this planned a week ago,��� It comes out rushed, brows furrowed as you tried to meet something else besides that hard wall behind hazel eyes. “Besides it’s the med wing, they always have volunteers coming in to help—it’s just one date.”

“This really isn’t up for discussion,” His steely exterior nearly crumbles to pieces when he sees the way you visibly deflate, fingers grazing over the pretty dress you’d spent three days searching for with Mor and Cass had to pretend to be thrilled when you came barreling through his bedroom door with it in hand. You were beaming, smile so wide he thought your cheeks would split in two. “Now, go get changed.”

Guilt bubbles in his belly at the sight of you, jaw clenched tight and eyes blinking furiously to push back the frustrated tears; you had been really excited. You say nothing when you breeze past him, making sure not to touch him or make eye contact when you disappear back where you came and Cass doesn’t even need to turn around to know the way Azriel is looking at him. “Thought you said the med-wing was fully staffed? Easy day, you said.”

“Don’t even start.”

“It was just one date, she bought a dress and everything.” Az doesn’t buckle at the remorse that begins to scrunch at hard features, hands that clench and unclench at his sides as Cass battled a war that didn’t take prisoners. “If you won’t act on your feelings for her then leave her be so she can be happy.”

“Seriously, mind your fucking business.” Cassian all but snarls, golden eyes like burning lava when regarding his brother; the words hitting much harder than and punch. “She had a job to do and she’ll be here doing it. We don’t have time for stupid dresses and dates when people are dying.”

You don’t speak when you re-emerge in something more sturdy, medical equipment neatly organized in a bag that you held loosely in one hand. A whole folder of papers had been shoved in your grasp from a brooding General, inky hair flying away from his face when the wind cut through on his speedy departure. Frustration builds but you don’t allow it to overcome you, ignoring Azriel’s inquisitive stare, arms crossed over his chest and thick leathers hugging muscular thighs. “You okay?”

You sigh, gesturing to the stack of papers while you begin down the hall. “I’m busy.”

Times flows significantly slower now that you’re aware you’re missing something of importance; you’d really been looking forward to dressing up. Taking special time on your hair and the dark kohl that Mor insisted would make your eyes pop. The bittersweet daydream of what could’ve been is interrupted by the ruffled patient, his body covered in a serious of wrappings and notes near his side table on the tonics he’d been given—heavy duty sedatives and even stronger pain alleviants. Dosages so high there was no was he should’ve been moving, eyes blinking into consciousness and slurred speech stumbling from his tongue. “Where am I?”

“Sir, it’s okay just relax. I’m only here to help.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Your hands are gentle when they reach out for him in attempts to soothe but it only makes him more agitated, arms whipping around wildly and his volume steadily increases. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Sir, please. If you just calm down I can explain—you were hurt, I’m only here to help.”

Rational thought and logic make no home in the frantic patients mind, his terrifyingly sturdy grip latches onto your shoulder. You’re jostled in close, bandages and antiseptic falling from your grasp and you only have time for one sharp yelp before his hands are wrapped around your neck. It takes alarmingly little effort for him to get to his feet, slamming your form down on the cot he’d been recovering in for days. Broken noises pull from your throat, nails scratching at his arms and face and whatever skin you can get your hands on, punching and kicking and reaching for anything to help and just as a black spots line your vision you finally get a good kick in, enough to push you from his hands and your body tumbles to the floor with a thud.

Deep heaving breaths pull from you, sucking in as much oxygen as your lungs will allow and tears you didn’t even realize you’d let out are streaming down the curve of your cheeks as you struggle to gain your footing, to get out of the room but hands are back around your arms. A broken cry fills the air when your face is shoved into the wall, heavy weight pushing you over and over until blood pooled from your temple and choked noises caught in your throat.

You can’t even remember when it stopped, a darkness overtaking you but even that’s abruptly ripped away from you for what feels like just seconds later. Someone screaming, strangled, pain filled shouts when you feel a set of hands on your body, lifting you from the floor and setting you on a cool table. “She’s awake,” You hear Madja firmly speak, hands quick yet sturdy when reaching into her bag to pull out medical grade scissors. “Anyone not necessary needs to leave.”

“She’s family, we aren’t leaving her.” Azriel retorts even stronger, leaving no room for discussion and you can feel the warmth of his hands on your own when he looks down at you. “You’re going to be okay, we’re here. We’re all here.”

You can’t even form words, eyes watery and panicked when darting between both of his own and the grip you have on his fingers when the healer pressed down on your abdomen is enough to have him barking at her for pain relief. “I can’t just give her things without a full assessment.”

“Assess faster—she’s in too much pain.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other; you keep trying to speak, to beg them to please stop poking there and prodding at that bruise and asking if it hurt there, because it hurt everywhere. Broken whines pull from your throat, chest heaving and limbs trembling so hard the table shook. “I can feel three—no four broken ribs, collarbone fracture on the right side, shoulders dislocated on the right as well.” Madja begins, voice almost void of any emotion as she drifts from a person to a woman in charge. The High Lord in standing near your head, murmuring encouraging words while soaking in the information, a grim expression shared between him and the shadowsinger. “Damage to the brain is possible with such intense trauma to her head; two males had to physically pull the patient off of her.”

“Why would he even do this?” Rhys takes the warm cloth handed to him and gently begins to drag it over your forehead, trying his best to comfort you through the agony. “She’s harmless—she wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

“It was the first time he’d been lucid since we’d found him; he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

Half a dozen more healers filter in the room with handfuls of equipment, eyes filled with worry when regarding one of their own but they quickly shake it off and step into line to assist. Azriel snarls at Madja’s words, stomach clenching in disdain at the helpless groans you let out, head lolling from side to side, tears treading trails into your hair as the pain overwhelms you.

Madja skims a knuckle over your jaw on accident when accessing the harsh bruising at your throat and the yelp that pulls is absolutely devastating. “Grab the restraints and hold her down,” The healer commands to the others, insisting they wrap them tighter while ignoring the deep shouts of the two males guarding you like their lives depended on it. “Her jaw is broken,” A heavy sigh pulls from Madja, dark hair tightly braided behind her shoulders. “—I have to set it and it won’t be fun so help me or get out of the room so we can do our jobs.”

Rhysand’s fingers are running through your hair, Azriel’s thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your hands and you feel the exact moment they both go stiff, heads turning to face the towering figure that stuttered to a stop in the doorway. “I’ll hold her arms,” The shadowsinger holds your arms with a firmness you hadn’t experienced from him before, soft apologies being whispered into your ears when your heart rate surges. “Cass, hold her legs. She needs to be still.”

The General doesn’t move, eyes wide and mouth hung open when he takes in your form. The clothes that were cut from your body, the countless amounts of thick gauze and medical towels soaked with your blood pooling in piles on the floor. Warbled streaks of crimson red is a stark contrast against the white floors; the smeared print of ten fingers and two palms drag along the wall, the small side table and the around door handle—you’d just nearly gotten away. “Cassian,” Azriel snaps, the rough tone ripping him from his trance. “Hold down her legs, now.”

The shock doesn’t wear off even if he does do as he’s told, golden eyes stuck on every bruise, ears painfully attuned to every whimper, every cry and gut-wrenching scream when your jaw was forced open, the bone shifting with a deafening crunch. “Please, please, please.” You barely get the words out; speech slurred, sweat lacing your forehead, body shaking so hard from the pain you couldn’t tell what was up from down. “Please, make it stop. Please, I’ll do anything—please stop.”

“Give her something!” Rhys snapped, wiping away tears and bracing you from moving around too much.

Madja scoffs, outnumbered and overwhelmed she calls for a tonic, allowing a higher dose than normal and your relief is instant. Deep cries fade to drawn out whimpers before your whole form goes eerily limp. “This will not be an easy recovery; if you think that was bad, just wait.” Quick hands make work of setting your shoulder with a sharp jolt and another healer is wrapping it in thick bandages to keep it in place. “Why was she even in here? The form specifically stated that supervision was required for this patient—she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“She shouldn’t have been here at all,” One of the healers muttered under her breath, hands quick and careful when tucking your hair behind your ear and dabbing your face clean of the blood that had started drying. “—she had a date today. I took this shift for her so she could go. She’s been talking about it all week.”

A silence fills the room and Rhys follows the sharp stare Azriel had trained on the General who’d been stuck in place at your feet. His hands shake where they rest near your calves, gaze seemly stuck on the socks you wore, fabric torn and stained in your own blood and he can just picture how hard you’d struggled trying to escape. Cassian says nothing, not when the others seem to catch on; putting together a piece of the puzzle in his silence—the shock that settles in every pore and the guilt that radiated from his burly form.

He only watches as they collect the soiled gauze off the floor, antiseptic filling the space when they begin to scrub your handprints off the wall, sweeping up the drywall that gave way from the pure strength put into smashing your body to pieces. “Four broken ribs,” Azriel’s voice is unnervingly calm when the last of the healers filter out, the door shutting behind with a soft click. “—a fractured collarbone; she was thrown into the wall so hard her shoulder popped out of socket.” Rhys takes a step forward, a hand raised to stop the shadowsinger but he’s sharply cut off, Az’s tone getting just a bit deeper when he stalks towards Cassian like predators did their prey. “He nearly shattered her skull—she’d be dead if it weren’t for one of the other patients. They heard her scream and found me.” Inky shadows slink around Azriel’s shoulders, but it’s the hand that pushes Cassian a step away from you that finally gains his attention.

“Azriel—“ Rhysand begins to intercept but abruptly pauses when the spymaster continues, fingers pointed at the leader of the Night Courts armies.

“You made her stay today because you were jealous.”

The High Lord goes still, violet eyes sliding from one friend to the other. “What?”

“She had a date and Cass was jealous because he has feelings for her and is too afraid to say anything.” Azriel can’t seem to stop once he’s started; such pure rage burning beneath his skin at the selfishness that resulted in such unimaginable pain.

“You think any of that matters right now?” Cassian doesn’t even sound like himself; no booming voice or need to make his point, no logical facts and carefully thought out points. He can’t even stop looking at you, eyes glassy and shoulders slumped when remembering what you’d looked like just two hours earlier. “I thought I didn’t deserve her before but now—after this? I know I don’t.”

[jasmines-library]

hi love! idk if you are interested or not but i had an idea of reader being friends with lilly and severus but also with the marauders untill the oh so fateful day were sev ruined his friendship with lilly and reader. i love the idea of lilly ending up in james's arms and reader in sirius's (they are my boys sorry sev🤭)

thank you and again, only if you want! have a wonderful day lovely!

Only Human

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Warnings: Slurs (mudblood), swearing bullying kinda, negativity but fluffy ending

Word Count: 1.7k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Severus Snape was resting against a tree when it happened. The castle sat opposite him, just a short way across the clear water. The small ripples created by the creatures in the lake and the summer breeze often distracted him from the book that he rested between his knees and his chest as he tucked them up closely. It was this exact reason that he hadn't noticed the band of robe-clad gryffindors trudging up the slope toward him. James Potter led the group, he wore his signature charismatic grin; a smirk that twinged the corner of his lip upwards and made his nose scrunch beneath his glasses, and he had his wand held loosely in his hand. He twisted the delicate tool between his fingers as you would a drumstick. Sauntering over to Severus, he chuckled at his friends, nudging them playfully with his shoulder. 

“Snape!” He jested, calling out to him. 

His head snapped up, but he kept his back planted firmly against the tree as the group of marauders ran up to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, just hoping that they would turn and leave. But they were bored and Severus, who had been particularly troublesome toward them, had caught their eyes. Severus inched himself up against the tree so that he rose to his feet and began to turn back in the direction of the castle. 

James frowned, a look of mock pity set on his face. “Leaving already, Snivellus?”

Snape reached for his wand, but kept his back to them.  “Fuck off, Potter. I don’t want trouble.”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to turn your back to someone when they’re talking to you, Snape.” Sirius asked him. 

Severus whipped around quickly, his wand poised to cast a spell at them but James beat him to it; with one flick of his hand Snape's wand went flying across the river bank. He paled, the four Marauders stepping closer to him. 

“Nice one, James.” Sirius cheered. 

The dark haired boy backed up slowly, setting his gaze. The four of them were edging closer, threatening him with their wands when you spotted them. You had just finished class and were heading over to the lake with Lily, arm in arm. The two of you were over there in seconds when you saw your friends threatening each other. Much to your boyfriend's dismay, you and Severus had been friends from the beginning of the first year. You met him on the train; a shy boy with long hair who didn’t quite seem certain of the world. Lily bonded with him quickly, and you followed soon after. It wasn’t long after that that you met Sirius Black. Charming, brave, daring; he was the complete opposite to Snape, but you supposed that was what drew you to him so much. It was their clash in personalities that made the two clash. It seemed as though they were always doing something to wind up the other.

This time it had gone too far. You were unsure of what Sev had done to wind up the Marauders so much, but you and Lily were skidding to a stop beside them in a heartbeat. 

James caught a glimpse of Lily’s fiery hair out of the corner of his eye. “Lilyflower-”

“Leave him alone, James.” It wasn’t quite a demand, Lily never had that sort of aggressiveness in her, but her voice was firm. She didn’t want her friend to get hurt. 

“Ah, Evans, Don’t make me hex you.” James sighed, a playful twinge on his tongue.

“I’m serious.” Lily repeated when James refused to lower his wand, letting it loll around between his fingers. 

“No,” Sirius smirked. “I am.”

You gave him a hard stare through narrow eyes, and his smirk dropped. “Siri. Please.”

The boy nodded, nudging his friend who promptly pocketed his wand. Severus seemed taken back, his steps faltering. He glanced gratefully in your direction, though his anger and embarrassment were unmistakable in his eyes. 

“You’re lucky that they were here to help you, Snape.”

“I don’t need help from filthy mudbloods.”

You had expected many things from Severus, but those words were not one of them. He spat them with venom; malice intending to bite deep. And bite deep it did. 

You froze, eyes glassing over with tears. Serverus Snape had made an incredibly low blow; as a muggleborn, it was safe to say that it took some time to come to terms with your letter to Hogwarts. You were excited, of course but your parents were far from keen. Lily experienced the same thing with her sister too. Things didn’t get much better when you arrived at Hogwarts either. Some saw you as ‘impure’. Unworthy. Sev knew this and he had chosen to use it against you. Perhaps it was in a moment of spite, perhaps he hadn’t meant to say it at all. But all that mattered in that moment was that Severus Snape was just like the rest of them.   

You could see Sirius glance your way out of the corner of your eye, but when he took a step toward you you backed away. 

“Fuck you, Snape.” You spat back at him, trying to hide the waver in your voice. 

“You should watch your mouth, Snivellus.” Lily glared at him before turning on her heel and making her way promptly back to the castle before anyone else could say a word. 

You were left standing between the two groups, both slightly shell shocked, in silence.

Sirius, now full of guilt, opened his mouth to talk, but you pursued Lily before he could even form the first syllable.

 The tears came flooding in quickly after that. 

~

Sirius hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day. and that was partly because you refused to come out of the girls bathroom. He had even tried to get Moaning Myrtle to coax you out to talk to him, but still you refused to show your face as you curled up on the bathroom tile. It made his stomach churn. 

His pit of guilt dug itself deeper as he sat in class. Sirius’ leg bounced restlessly during potions and there was just as much ink on the page at the start of the lesson as there was at the end. The detention he was also given didn’t help ease his thoughts. His mind wandered to the worse case scenarios. It was his fault for provoking Snape… What if you never wanted to talk to him again? He was up in an instant when the fateful day came to an end and he could return to the common room. He dragged his feet up to the portrait and muttered the words to open it. Every part of him itched to see your face mingling amongst the crowd. 

At first, he didn’t see you. But he managed to make out the crown of your head resting against an armchair tucked away in the corner by the fire. His face softened when he saw the tear tracks staining your face where you had failed to wipe them away properly.  

You had spent practically the last two hours crying. Everytime the flood stopped, it seemed to start up again. Severus was supposed to be your friend and he had discarded you just like that. The back of your eyes stung, glassy beads threatening to spill again. When you finally braved it enough to make it back to the common room, you couldn’t bear to go up to your room. You hardly spent any time there anyway because you spent much of it lounging around in Sirius’ bed with the other marauders…and you were angry and Sirius. 

No… perhaps angry was too strong a word. Hurt. Hurt by his actions and his and James’ thoughtlessness. Being up in your room would have just reminded you of that. So instead you settled down with a book by the fire trying to distract yourself and let the world move around you. 

It didn’t take Sirius very long to reach you. He crossed the common room in a few wide strides. 

“Love?” Siri asked hesitantly. 

You peeked up at him meekly. Your eyes were red raw and puffy, it made the boy frown. Sniffing, you wiped your eyes with the hem of your sleeve. “Oh.. hi Siri.” you mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Oh Lovey. I’m so sorry.” He melted, sliding onto the arm of the chair beside you. 

“ ‘ts okay. It’s not your fault…”

Sirius scowled. You were far too kind for your own good. He knew exactly what you had been through and made him sick just thinking that you weren’t allowing anyone to take the blame for it. “But it is, Dove. I shouldn’t have provoked him. If I had stopped James and just kept my mouth shut then you wouldn’t have had to come over in the first place.”

A tear spilled from your eyes and all of a sudden you broke all over again. “He was supposed to be my friend, Pads.” You blubbered, voice wavering. “He’s just like the rest of them…”

Sirius took your hands in his, pressing a kiss to them. “You didn’t deserve any of this, my love. I am so, so sorry.”

“Maybe they’re right….” You trailed off. “Maybe I am worthless. If Sev thinks so too then-”

“Shh.” Sirius pressed another kiss to your temple as he scooped you up into his arms. Burying your face into his chest you continued to cry. He trailed his fingers over your back. “You’ve never been more wrong in your life, Lovey. You are worth so much more than that. You’re kind, brave and not to mention the most beautiful girl in the world. You’re worth everything to me. Who gives a crap what they think?”

You sniffled, unsure. 

“I mean it.”

You looked up at him, wiping away your tears; a ghost of a smile on your lips. 

“I love you.” Siri whispered, kissing you softly.

“I love you too.” You settled your head against his chest, shifting to curl against him. 

It was there that James and Lily found you later, entwined with each other and sleeping peacefully. Safe within each other's arms.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

MARAUDERS TAGS:

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[shibaraki]

OPEN ARMS, OPEN EYES ┊ GOJO SATORU

tags: GN reader, no curse au, meet-cute, gojo has a visual impairment (modern take on his six eyes), the divine dogs are service animals (seeing-eye dogs), original child character, reader is babysitting, fluff + flirting, (takes place in my foster dad au)

wc: 3k

Overhead, the bell rings a soft welcome. You quickly shuffle Kota out of the drizzle and into the warm embrace of the cafe. A full staccato can be heard over the soothing music as the wind begins to whip the rainfall against the windows. You sigh, having escaped the worst of it.

Kota squirms, his pink face scrunched into a glare as you bend to undo the buttons tucked beneath his chin and let down his raincoat hood. Free from the nylon confines he shakes out his hair and swipes at the strands stuck to his damp forehead with a whine.

“I know little man,” you murmur placatingly, reaching for the napkins on the nearby condiment bar. You pat his skin dry from his cheeks to his neck, and then under his cuffs around his wrists. His sniffling has allayed, to your relief. “Is that better?”

When he doesn’t answer you look up and find him entranced by something across the threshold. You follow his line of sight and feel the breath stolen from your lungs.

The stranger is imposing and beautiful in a way that is hard to look at; yet it’s the intense air of confidence and ease about him that makes it impossible for you to look away. Standing tall at the counter he’s all slender angles and fluid movements in his fitted white dress-shirt, rocking on his heels as he waits.

The shelves fixed to the wall behind the counters are littered with decorative trinkets doused in warm-gold light that crowns his white hair like a halo. Everyone’s focus has gravitated toward him, so much so that they don’t appear to notice the large black dog at his feet.

Kota, however, paid the man no attention. Instead his chubby fingers curled around your shirtsleeve to tug insistently at your arm, “Puppy!”

There’s a blue padded harness strapped to the dog’s torso, ‘assistance’ printed in bold reflective letters across the chest and along the adjustable handle. Their body language shows that they’re comfortable but alert, ears standing tall and twitching in Kota’s direction. Kota, who has managed to free himself from your grip.

And is tottering towards the service dog.

You rise to stand and amble after him, frantically whispering his name. “Kota—no. You can’t pet the dog,” your arm scoops around his belly to keep him from tripping as you grab the back of his coat and gather him to your front. The boy stomps his foot and whines, forcing his body pliant in protest and becoming deadweight.

Nervous about causing a disturbance you survey the surroundings. Nobody stirs. A woman and her two young children are seated nearby, and she offers you a sympathetic smile. You grimace, steadying Kota on his feet.

“But I wan’a pet the puppy,” Kota warbles, making grabbing motions toward the dog.

“You can’t sweetheart. Look,” you run a soothing hand down his back. Bringing him close you point at the blue harness. “See what they’re wearing? Can you read that word?”

Kota’s brow knits in concentration. “S’big word,” he says. You smile at his seriousness and suppress the urge to squeeze him.

“That word says ‘assistance’,” and he repeats it with imprecise intonation, thrice before he’s satisfied. “That’s right,” you praise him, sneaking a kiss to his temple. A frisson of happiness has him burying into the crook of your neck. “Do you know what it means when an animal is wearing a coat like that?”

Kota shakes his head.

“It means,” you cast a quick glance to the owner and almost swallow your tongue. His face is angled in your direction, as if listening in on your conversation, though his eyes are well hidden behind a dark pair of glasses. “It means that dog is working. They have a very important job to do, so we can’t interrupt them. It would be bad if they got distracted, right?”

Kota thinks long and hard about this. A litany of emotions wash over his expression. It ranges from confusion, to petulance and sadness, then finally, acceptance. “Yeah. Okay,” he nods, staring longingly at the fluffy tail sweeping back and forth across the tiles.

“Good. Now you’ve learned something new today. You can tell your parents all about it once I get you home,” you stand straight and brush down the front of your jeans. “How about we get some cream puffs to celebrate once it’s dry out, hm?”

“Yeah!”

The disruption thankfully hadn’t bothered the dog. You watch as the man drops his hand to his hip and they immediately nuzzle into the touch. “Good girl,” you hear him croon as his fingers crook behind her ear. Then he cocks his head and a pair of lustrous eyes are visible over his opaque, round-rimmed glasses.

Hair prickles on the nape of your neck. His stare settles just beyond your shoulder. The pigment in each iris is oddly dispersed and startlingly light, a clear blue with infinite depth, as if they were plucked right from a celestial body. “Thanks for keeping him on a leash,” he tells you with teasing cadence, mouth curled into a smile. Kota gives an affronted grumble and you laugh, combing your fingers through baby-soft hair.

The man inclines toward Kota, “Her name is Maya, by the way. You can’t pet her but you can say hello”.

Enthralled at this development Kota bends his knees in an bouncy little dance. “Maya-chan. Hi. My name is Kota,” he gurgles, hands covering his cheeks. Maya simply snuffled, a long tongue licking at her snout, and shifted on her front paws.

The attractive stranger nudges his dark glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He wets his lips. “And what’s your name?”

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for you to realise he is asking you. Rattled by the prolonged silence you set your sights firmly on Kota and clear your throat to introduce yourself, “It’s nice to meet you”.

“Yeah? I don't get to hear that too often,” he replies, mouth thin as if fighting a broader smile. It’s a lovely shade of balmy pink. “I’m—”

“Gojo-san?”

The barista glances up from reading the name on the ticket, visibly flustered that he interrupted. “I’m sorry. Your drinks are ready,” he makes an aborted motion to hand the tray over and then seizes. “Ah—would you like me to take this to your table, Gojo-san?”

“That’d be great,” nothing about Gojo’s visage, nor his posture, changes. You feel pinned under his broad scrutiny. Anticipation swoops through your stomach as he angles his gaze in Maya’s direction, where Kota remains besotted. “Y’know, my other dog is here too. She’s actually retired now, so you can come and pet her if you want, Kota-kun”.

You balk. This guy.

“Yeah!” Kota effuses, crashing into your legs. He pats at your thighs. “Please. Can I, can I?”

You cast a lingering glance at the poor weather, a sheet of rain obscuring the view to the street, and ponder what Kota’s parents would want. As he’s an only child they’ve expressed their desire to get a pet in the near future. It could be a good lesson for him, and you have nothing to do until the shower calms.

“That's—kind of you. If it’s no trouble…?”

“Wouldn’t offer if it was,” Gojo replies. You are at least reassured by the fact that he doesn’t sound all that put-out. More than anything he looks pleased, like the cat that got the cream. He gestures toward the poor barista, waiting to the side with fingers flexing around the tray handles.

You nudge the little boy, “What do you say?”

Kota takes a deep breath, the air pushing out his cheeks. He bows, hair falling over his eyes, and gives an emphatic: “Thank you!”

Gojo’s runs a hand through his hair. It looks silky. A smooth glide, no tangles caught on his knuckles. Then he rolls his shoulders, expression schooled into something comically serious. “In that case I’m going to need you to do something, Kota-kun,” he says.

The tone has Kota’s spine ramrod straight. “This guy here is going to my table. Think you can walk behind him and lead the way for Maya?”

Kota’s eyes are wide and sparkling. He vibrates at the promise of responsibility. You observe the exchange with an odd fondness. Gojo is a stranger. Yet he has somehow has managed to win over the most stubborn kid you know.

“Maya,” he kisses his teeth. Maya rises to attention, locking onto her owner while he readjusts his grip on the harness handle. She tracks the movement of his free hand through the air as it comes to lightly tap Kota’s shoulder. “Follow,” he states.

Spurred into action as though commanded himself, the barista leaves to find Gojo’s table. Kota looks to you seeking permission. You nod and he wanders closely after the man on his little legs, glancing back every few seconds, brighter each time he notices Maya trotting onward at his heel.

Gojo’s gait is languid and purposefully slow. There's buoyancy to him as he navigates the space, trusting Maya completely to get to their destination. You walk a suitable distance from his side, inwardly dithering and unsure whether or not to push aside the few chairs obstructing the path. Maya doesn’t appear concerned. You’d hate to break her focus.

She takes Gojo deeper into the cafe with confidence. Tucked away in an alcove at the back of the room is a booth. In the booth is another dark haired boy, much older than Kota, around twelve or thirteen if you had to guess, and curled under the table is another large dog.

The boy is not impressed in the slightest. He frowns at the sight of you and Kota, disgruntled. Thoughts visibly pass over his face and whatever conclusion he comes to he glares up at Gojo for it.

As the barista sets down the tray of drinks the cups rattle against their respective saucers. He bows and slips away. Kota is beginning to squirm again. You can tell his patience is waning.

“I’m being glared at, aren’t I?” comes Gojo’s amused murmur. Though the boy’s ire isn’t directed at you it feels awkward to be in the line of fire.

“You are,” you reply, pinching the back of Kota’s hood to prevent him from diving under the table. “Are you sure this is fine? If your son isn’t—”

Gojo waves his hand as he strides forward, carefully resting it on the backrest of the cushions and he uses it to pivot himself into the booth. “Not my son. More like a nephew, or something. Right, Megumi?” the boy—presumably Megumi—flares his turned up nose and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Or something,” he says.

“Maya,” Gojo continues in a clear voice. “Down,” Maya is deliberate in where she rests, remaining within his reach. “Stay,” her paws cross one over the other, and she rests her chin atop her wrists. When she’s settled, he coos another, “Good girl”.

Maya’s tail swishes happily. Megumi grunts. “Don’t be like that, Megumi. The kid only wanted to meet Ren,” Gojo drawls. At the mention of her name Ren crawls out from under the table seeking attention. “Why don’t you show Kota-kun how to pet her?”

“Why me?”

“You’re older. Set an example,” Gojo rests his cheek in his palm, taking his glasses off to hook them on the end of his slender finger. Those startling eyes drag aimlessly over your form as he sighs, “Tsumiki would be so disappointed if she knew”.

At that Megumi’s arms drop in deference. He scoots out of his seat and coaxes Ren to sit. She’s a lovely dog, and big, with a luscious thick white coat and soulful eyes. He sticks his hand out, expression a complex mix of boredom and determination. Like he didn’t want to do it, but if he really had to, he wanted to do it well. “Kota-kun, right? Give me your hand,” he says.

Kota bounces on his toes and obediently drops his hand into the older boy’s. “You have to let animals smell you first. Let them decide if they want to be touched,” Megumi guides it toward Ren, proffered and upturned for her to scent. She nuzzles into Kota’s small palm and licks it for good measure, making him squeal.

Gojo melts into the booth cushion, entirely mellowed out. You stare at his profile, appreciating the soft line of his cheekbone right to the shell of his ear, just peeking out under fluffy white hair; lightly cow licked at the ends from the rain, curling right around the stud in his earlobe.

Feeling the weight of your gaze his eyes slide over and you quickly turn away. In the seconds you spent distracted Megumi has shown Kota where Ren likes to be scratched the most. Kota beams as he strokes down her flank, making her tongue loll out and her hind leg reflexively twitch.

You clear your throat. “She’s very pretty isn't she?” you muse, bending to Kota’s height and smiling gently at Megumi. Ren’s warm puffs of breath fan over your fingers as you let her smell them. “Is she the same breed as Maya-chan?”

“Yeah. They’re cousins,” Megumi answers stiffly. There’s a tinge of pink in Megumi’s cheeks now as he buries his hand in Ren’s fur, vying for reason not to look directly at you. “We’re letting them spend time together before we send Ren away”.

“Eh?” Kota’s bottom lip wobbles. His head whips around to Gojo, “Away?”

“Not like that,” you quietly reassured.

Gojo crossed his ankles under the table and reclined with his royal milk tea, wisps of steam curling over the rim. “Ren is too old to do her job now,” he smiles behind the cup, “She’s going to live with a good friend of mine and his two sons. Don’t worry”.

This comforts Kota a bit. “What, um,” he pats Ren’s face, and your heart aches, because he’s being so uncharacteristically gentle. “Maya-chan really has a job?”

“She really does”.

“But babies can’t work,” Kota beseeches. “Mama told me so”.

Megumi huffs, though you think it’s more of a laugh. “Maya isn’t a baby and she isn’t a puppy anymore either,” he says. The proud gleam in his gaze doesn’t escape you as he points at the younger dog. “She’s the best of her litter. I helped pick her”.

“Megumi has a good eye for that kinda thing,” Gojo sets down his cup and gestures to his uncovered eyes, framed by pale and unfairly long eyelashes. You are secretly grateful for the excuse to look at them again. “My eyes? Not so much. That’s what I have Maya for—and Ren before her. She helps me get around”.

Kota’s jaw slacks and he makes a long, drawn out sound of understanding. Ren bounces from paw to paw and you marvel at just how good she is with him. Calm, and attentive. Reacting whenever he reacts. Remnants of her training that she’d likely never lose.

“Go—go…”

“Gojo-san,” you prompt gently as Kota’s brow knits in that very familiar ‘I-don’t-want-to-cry’ manner.

“Gojo-san,” he tries again. “M’sorry your eyes don’t work good”.

Mortification washes over you. “Kota, sweetheart. You can’t just say that—”

Gojo barks a laugh loud enough to draw the attention of onlookers. While he remains unaffected, growing evermore amused, you shy away from their curious stares with a grimace. “Don’t worry. He meant no harm,” he says. “And look, it’s not that I can’t see anything. Want to know something cool?”

Megumi sighs indolently and you suspect he’s heard this spiel before. Kota unfurls from his brief flinch and nods. Gojo tips his chin and bends forward. Kota stares right into his lucent eyes, mesmerised.

“I can see shapes. To me you’re just a weird smudge,” Kota giggles from behind his hands as Gojo pretends to wet his thumb and makes a rubbing motion, like he were wiping Kota from his vision. “But I have too much pressure inside of my eyes. So I don’t just see shapes,” Gojo leans closer and lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “I see colours around things, like when you squeeze your eyes shut real tight”.

“Woah,” Kota breathes. His fingers clench and unclench where they’re clutched around his coat. “What colour am I?”

The older man decides to entertain the question and pauses to consider Kota with a ruminative hum. You find yourself waiting with bated breath, a shamefully scant portion of your brain focused on the vibration from your jacket pocket. Numbness is spreading up your feet to your calves, knelt on them for too long, but you don’t want to disturb the atmosphere.

“Red,” Gojo answers decisively.

Kota covers his mouth. He swivels on his heels to find you. “That’s my favourite colour!”

“It is,” you echo as you rub his shoulder, your tone gentle and indulgent. Your phone buzzes again and you slip it out from your pocket to check the screen. “Ah,” a brief glance toward the cafe window informs you that the rain has mostly stopped. Gold slats of sunlight are flooding the wet pavement. “It’s your parents, little man. They’ll be expecting us home soon so say your goodbyes”.

“No”.

“Kota”.

A stubborn beat passes. Sulking, Kota is deliberate and slow while he gives Ren a final stroke. “Bye bye, Ren, Maya-chan. Bye bye Megumi-nii. Bye bye Gojo-san”.

“Sure,” Megumi chokes somewhat at the honorific. “See you, Kota-kun”.

Gojo listens to the interaction with a smile. Close lipped and genuine. Though small the weight of it causes his eyes to crinkle slightly at the corners. “It doesn’t have to be goodbye forever,” he suggests.

You hesitate, “Meaning…?”

“If we exchanged numbers then Kota-kun could keep in touch with Maya and Ren. I’ll send cute pictures”.

Megumi scoffs and it makes the blood prickle under your skin. Your face feels hot. “Right. For Kota,” you reply dryly, mouth trembling as you valiantly try to keep the smile out of your voice. He must sense it anyway, because his own widens and he holds his phone out to you.

Kota claps excitedly while you input your name and number. “And how do I know you’re not a bad guy?” you ask, saving the details before closing out the app and handing the phone back.

“I pinky promise?”

Shaking your head amusedly you fix Kota’s coat collar, refastening the buttons before petting Ren farewell. “I suppose I’ll take your word for it,” you tell him. “Thanks again, for letting Kota meet the dogs”.

“My pleasure,” Gojo returns.

“I’ll—we’ll be seeing you, then,” you wave at Megumi, directing Kota toward the front of the cafe. Gojo drapes his lithe body over the table surface and rests his chin to his hand, as if watching you go.

“I’ll text you,” he chimes after you. People lift their heads as you scurry through to the entrance.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[alexiroflife]

"lazy summer days"

fluff, a little something sweet for the kids

suguru geto x reader

Synopsis: you, suguru, and the girls paint your nails during a hot summer day indoors

to sum it up: it's too hot to go outside!

WC: 1,249

Warning(s): none

There’s something about lazy, hot summer days that you love.

You’re biased, however, for you’re privileged enough to spend your overheated time in the company of your boyfriend and the precious girls. You like how the heat forces you all inside to spend time with one another, whether it’s in a miserable sweat or not.

Popsicle wrappers litter the living room floor as an array of fans blow angrily about the space, spewing air into all directions. Mimiko and Nanako lay flat on the carpet, bodies clad in swimsuits simply because the heat is far too unbearable for them to bother to wear actual clothes. They lay on their stomachs, their probably fifth popsicle propped in their mouths as they stare up at the television screen in blank dazes, toys and books strewn amidst their trash.

Suguru, who normally pesters the girls about cleaning up after themselves, doesn’t dare bother mustering up the energy it takes to do so in this heat. He sits with his legs spread on your couch with your legs propped over his thighs. His hair is pulled off of his neck into a rather sloppily done pair of pigtails that the girls insisted upon fixing into his locks. The messy strands blow over his face with the sway of the fans, light shirt unbuttoned. He cradles one hand over your ankle as he leans over your foot, staring calmly as he strokes a brush of cool nail polish over your big toe, paying close attention as to keep the color within the lines and not to let it brush onto your skin.

You fan him with a paper fan Nanako made you as he works, alternating between waving it at him, yourself, and over top of the girls, their fluffy hair bouncing upward with the extra ghosts of wind. 

You stare ahead at the screen that plays the girls’ favorite movie, watching rather intensely as the animated film reaches its climax. You’re probably more engaged than the girls are, for they’ve seen the film a thousand times, but you can’t help appreciating the surprisingly well crafted plot. 

You can feel Suguru blow softly over your foot after finishing your second big toe, and you jolt, giggling at the sensation. The black haired man looks up with the nerve to be perturbed, though he looks ridiculous staring at you in such a way with his hair sticking into the air. 

“Don’t move, (y/n),” he tells you for the umpeenth time, and you scrunch your face bashfully. 

“I’m sorry, it just tickles when you do that.”

“Well, you’re gonna end up making me mess up your nails,” he shakes his head, turning his eyes back to survey his work. “You don’t want messy nailpolish, do you?”

“No…” 

“Then sit still, baby.”

You roll your eyes, leading him to squeeze your ankle playfully.

“You’re showing a lot of attitude to the man pampering you,” he smirks. You turn your paper fan back to him to wave at his face aggressively, gusts of ever heavy whipping into the side of his face. 

His expression falls flat and you stifle a smile. “Sorry, Sugu. I don’t see a man, here. All I see is a pretty princess,” you beam.

“You’re just asking me to spill this nailpolish all of your feet, you know that?”

“Aw, but you wouldn’t dare,” you fake pout, and Suguru threateningly lifts the bottle to slowly tilt over your foot.

“It’s too hot for you to test me. I’ll do it.”

“No!” you panic, seeing how close he is to completely flipping the bottle upside down. “No, I’m sorry. Okay, I’ll stop.”

Suguru hums almost deviously, tilting the bottle back upright. “That’s what I thought.”

The girls suddenly grow disinterested with the film they put on and hop up, abandoning their snacks and turning to run up to the two of you to reconnect with their surroundings and see what you’re doing. Their cute faces light up upon seeing Suguru paint over your next nail.

“Oooo, can we try?” Nanako asks cheerfully, Mimiko nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah! I wanna paint (Y/n)’s nails too!”

You and Suguru exchange glances before, of course, giving in, completely unable to deny them of anything. 

“Okay, girls,” Suguru smiles, and they rejoice. “Just watch how I do it first, okay?”

“Okay!”

The young girls watch closely with big eyes as Suguru glides the brush carefully over your nail, a shiny coat of white following his trail smoothly as his thumb caresses your foot softly. The hazel eyed man advises them to go very slowly and to keep the paint only on your nail, and to not get it anywhere else. They nod enthusiastically in return, reaching eagerly for the bottle and the brush.

Suguru hands Mimiko the brush and Nanako the bottle so that they could both have turns doing different things, but still feel included in the task at the same time. “Be careful,” you tell them as the brown haired girl very cautiously dips the brush into the bottle as the blonde holds it with both of her hands, their eyes training on the motion as though its they last thing they’ll do.

Smiles rise to you and Suguru’s lips as his free hand now rubs over the expanse of your leg, the other still cradling your ankle. Mimiki leans in with her brows arched cutely and touches your nail with the brush, gliding it over shakily just as their father showed them. 

When she finishes, a spec of paint touches your outer cuticle, and mimiko pouts, retracting her hands. “I got some outside the nail,” she says dejectedly.

“Oh, that’s okay, Mimi, you did so good,” you praise and she looks at you hopefully.

“I did?”

“Of course, honey, you can just get that one spot with a napkin.”

She smiles brightly, handing her sister the brush to hold before padding off happily to the kitchen to find a napkin. “My turn!” Nanaka exclaims, and you chuckle. 

“Nanako,” Suguru catches the girl’s attention. “Let me show you how to dry the polish. Okay?” she nods joyfully and follows Suguru’s lead as he leans over you and purses his lips gently. She does the same mimicking his movements while you eye him.

“Okay, now blow.”

The two blow onto your polish at the same time, and you tense, biting down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing or moving. Suguru grins, leaning back to ruffle the blonde’s hair. “Good job.”

The day drones on as the girls work to finish your nails, suddenly fixated by the task. You and Suguru turn your attention at one point back to the movie, watching like children as the conflict finally gets resolved. You coo at the sight of the main characters hugging as the movie clothes, your happiness with the film’s end distracting you from the fact that you are basically at an in home nail salon.

The sun sets slowly over the city, melting your living room in an orange hue as the sun’s gaze peers through the windows. The heat finally begins to cool and the girls chatter loudly as they finish your nails, you moving to put on another film. Suguru leans over and pecks a kiss to your shin before inquiring what everyone wants to eat for dinner.

Despite the agonizing summer heat, you love days like these with the people you love the most, full of warmth, full of life, full of joy.

[luvrbug]

Honkai Star Rail Men ; where do they lie on the pathetic man scale?

includes ; Sampo, Welt, Jing Yuan

A/N ; sorry everyone ive been playing hsr, and it has COMPLETELY captivated me. i will maybe write about one piece more buuuut I cant be too sure :[ i change like the wind sorry guys. also my first time writing in like Months so apologies if this is poopy

Warnings; literally the smallest amount of spice, no allusion to sex. reader is not the trailblazer, Gender neutral reader with 2nd person pronouns

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

Sampo Koski

Sampo is such a failboy. it's not even funny. He embodies a pathetic man.

You get word of Sampo scamming someone once again; and to make it even worse, it was the kids that literally saved the entire planet.

So, you sentenced Sampo to a week of sleeping on the couch, which landed you in this unsightly situation.

"Baby, please, you know i didn't really mean to make them do my work," he pleads, grabbing your leg and squishing his face into your stomach. "I had urgent business to attend to somewhere.. else in the mine,"

Sighing, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Sampo begins to rise, hoping that he's swayed your iron heart, until-

"Two Weeks on the couch,"

"Baby!"

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

Welt Yang

Out of all the men on this list, I'd say Welt is the least pathetic man. He has fatherhood skills and absolutely does his half of the chores.

... But he still is completely whipped for you.

Welt has never forgotten an anniversary. Without fail, he brings the biggest boquet of flowers, plans the best date night, and manages to keep your little troop of mischief makers pacified for the night.

So, when this year's anniversary rolls around, and nothing has happened yet, you begin to worry.

Did he want you to plan the events today? Did you miss some subliminal messaging? Are you losing your spark?? Is he-

"Ah, there you are," Welt's voice alone is enough to completely silence any rebellious thoughts running around.

"I was starting to get worried, i wouldn't want your surprise to get cold," You perk up instantly at the mention of a present, quickly gathering the book on and gold quality black tea you'd bought a few weeks prior.

Welt pulls out.. your favorite dessert from your favorite bakery on your homeworld. That is thousands of lightyears away. "I managed to understand enough about this dessert from your stories, and i managed to make something close to it with my powers and a little help from Himeko,"

You practically launch yourself at him, covering his face with kisses. Best anniversary ever.

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

Jing Yuan

In the middle of the pathetic scale. Proper, courteous, and flirtatious, but also the most pathetic, clingy man ever when you're alone.

It's Saturday morning, the sun is shining, you have a romantic lunch reservation in an hour, and Jing Yuan is refusing to allow you out of bed.

"Honey, we have to get up or we'll miss our reservation. You know how hard it is to get on their waiting list, especially for the lunchtime rush," You whine, attempting to wriggle out of his hold.

Jing Yuan simply squeezes you tighter, making a muffled "hmmph" into your stomach. "Your cooking is better anyway," he mumbles, stretching and yawning not unlike mimi.

You huff, lying back in bed with your eyebrows scrunched. "I'm not going to cook for a week unless you get up and we make it there on time,"

This finally gets Jing Yuan off the bed and rummaging through his closet. "Well, hurry up, we wouldn't want to be late,"

[major-toast]

Passenger

@rosekillermicrofic // May 14th - insane // words: 856 // minors dni

Speeding down the highway, the landscape is rushing past them, a nervous blur of the black night sky and bright neon signs. Evan’s eyes flick down to the dashboard of their trusty Dodge Challenger. And so do Barty’s.

140 miles per hour. 150. 200.

They’re fucking fast.

“Hit the gas, Rosie!” Barty laughs, turning in his seat to catch their trackers tailgating them. They’re fast too. But, considering Evan will turn off the car lights any second, plunging them into total darkness and vanishing the Challenger into the cool air of the night, they stand no chance. Barty’s grin takes up a new dimension of delight.

“Any faster, and I’ll lose track of the road signs”, Evan mumbles, taking one last sip of his soda can. 

Scrunching up the frail metal within his palm, he then throws the remains out of the open window, one hand safely secured to the wheel. For a moment, Barty hoped the can would hit the windshield of the SUV behind them, but to no avail. Disappointed, he clicks his tongue, focussing back on the road ahead.

“Fuck the road signs!” he says. “If one of the pigs wants to stop us now, I’ll show him how pretty his brain looks on the pavement. Didn’t bring those TEC-9s for nothing.”

Huffing, and with his arms crossed above his chest, he slumps back into the passenger seat, propping his feet up against the windshield.

It was supposed to be an easy job; in and out. No witnesses. A simple kidnapping with a shit-ton of ransom money as a reward. But, of course, it had to be a trap, a botched operation. If Riddle wanted to get rid of them so desperately, he should have done it himself, and not sent out a bunch of bloodhounds.

What an egomaniacal, deranged coward. Barty will be all too happy to greet him with the gun inside his pants. And this time, he doesn’t mean his cock.

Roll the windows down, this cool night air is curious. Let the whole world look in. Who cares who sees anything? I’m your passenger.

At the sound of the radio echoing back his own sentiment, the grin reappears. Usually, Barty listens to no one, but the moment couldn’t be more fitting.

“What- what are you doing?” Evan questions warily, his eyes fleetingly glancing over at him.

“Living” comes the simple reply.

Before the pretty blonde can do anything, Barty has rolled the windows down.

Without unbuckling his seatbelt – because why would he fasten it to begin with? – he climbs out halfway, nothing but his waist and legs keeping him inside the racing car. Feeling the harsh air whip through his hair and prick his nose and ears like a thousand tiny needles, an ecstatic cackle bubbles from his lips.

This. This is what it means to be alive, to breathe.

If only for a short moment.

“Get. In”, Evan grunts, pulling Barty back with one harsh tug on his blood-soaked shirt. “You maniac are getting us both killed!”

Almost as if to lend his words some weight, Evan swerves hard right, trying to avoid crashing into the slowing car before them. The tires screech deafeningly in protest and the centrifugal force shoves Barty back into the passenger’s side door. Left and right, empty beer cans and other trinkets are flying through the tiny space, and with one last bumpy correction of his course, Evan gets them back on track.

“Beautiful”, Barty breathes in admiration, his piercing eyes alighting with new fire and his hands shaking from excitement. “No one can drive like you can, Rosie.”

“Save your compliments until we’re fucking out of here, Crouch.”

He looks over to him, watches the wind dance inside his blonde locks. If they go crashing down, Barty will be glad to crash with him.

Here I lay, just like always. Don’t let me go. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go. Take me to the edge.

“Do you trust me?” Barty murmurs into the warm space between them.

“Of course, I trust you”, Evan replies.

“Blindly?”

“Blindly.”

Without another word, Barty leans forward then. Gently, he wraps his hands around Evan’s face, covering his eyes. Freezing at first, the pretty blonde relaxes into the touch easily, his grip slackening on the wheel.

“The road is empty. There is no one in front of us”, Barty coos. “You got this, angel. Let me be your eyes-“

“-and I’ll be your wings”, Evan finishes, a small smile stretching over his lips at the familiar words. 

Confidently, he presses down on the gas pedal, increasing their speed once more. Filled with pride, Barty gently kisses his cheek.

“There is another sloth right in front of us. The right lane is empty. You have about 15 seconds.”

Shifting gears and slowing down without effort, Evan taps the wheel. Gracefully, they avoid yet another crash. Yes, no one can drive like his Rosie. No one knows the road like he does.

“You are one insane motherfucker”, Evan smiles as Barty lifts his hand again. He simply shrugs it off.

“As long as I am yours.”

[ultram0th]

Sometimes Mick felt a little bad about what he’d do. He would transform and mess with men every now and then, experimenting with a variety of victims. Guys who were jerks and needed to be taken down a peg, guys who were good Samaritans and deserved a reward, and some who were just minding their own business. It was the latter that was the most difficult to deal with. Still, whenever that urge to have fun rolled around, it was next to impossible to ignore it.

That just so happened to be the case as Mick relaxed in the sauna at the gym that he frequented. He had no idea who the two muscular men were who walked in after him, one in his mid-fifties while the other was in his early thirties. The way they chatted with one another made it sound like they were friends or at least work out buddies — the older one seemed to be more knowledgeable about workout plans and diets than the younger.

Mick smirked and stood up to leave the sauna, snapping his fingers as he exited the door.

— — —

Adam sat on the sauna bench, enjoying how the hot steam relaxed his tense muscles after his strenuous workout. “Damn,” he huffed, rolling his neck to the side to pop it, “that kicked the crap out of me.”

The older man, Vlad, smirked and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I told you I can whip you into shape,” he chuckled. “We’ll have you contest-ready in no time.”

Adam was interested in getting into natural bodybuilding, and after searching online, had managed to find Vlad who was a certified personal trainer. The older guy had years of experience when it came to helping others bulk up to incredible sizes, so Adam was eager to hire him. Lo and behold, it was only his first session with the guy, and he was already feeling as if his muscles were on fire.

The two men talked about workout plans, not really noticing when the other gym patron left the sauna, snapping his fingers behind him. There was an odd electric feel to the thick, steamy air that passed as soon as it had come.

Adam massaged his already sore pectoral, winded from the workout his trainer had put him through. Still, the results were promising and he found himself incredibly excited for tomorrow’s workout. He glanced over at the older man.

“So, like, what’s the workout plan for tomorrow, Daddy?” he asked in a voice that sounded like it’d shot up several octaves, sounding comical coming from his bulky body. He jerked back in confusion and cleared his throat a couple times, wondering if the steam was just messing with it and making it sound weird; but that didn’t explain the odd inflections or why he’d referred to the older man as ‘Daddy’.

Even Vlad scrunched up his face in confusion, eying the younger man up and down. “I’m gonna work those tight glutes of yours, Babe,” he grunted, his voice sounding deeper and rougher than it had earlier. The older man’s eyes widened in shock at what had left his mouth and he scratched at his chest in wonder, wincing when he felt much more hair on it than usual. 

Sure enough, when he looked down at himself, his chiseled chest was covered in dense salt-and-pepper colored hair. What shocked him the most was that his nipples had seemingly inflated, sticking out of the hairy forest by at least half and inch.

“Damn, Boy, Daddy’s nips have gotten so big for ya to suck on,” he heard himself playfully growl, blood draining from his face at his words.

Adam shot to his feet in a panic, his heart racing in his chest. “Daddy, like, what is even happening to us?” he twittered, waving his hands effeminately as he began to fret. He had no idea why he or Vlad were speaking so differently and he began to wonder if it was the steam that was affecting their brains. “Like, maybe this steam is fucking with our heads?”

The two men rushed out of the steam room and stood out in the vacant locker room, both of them panting from a mixture of the heat from the sauna and from the trepidation that filled their worried bodies.

It took them both a second to realize that in their hurry to get out of the sauna and catch their breath, they didn’t notice that they were standing uncomfortably close to one another: Vlad had his buff arm wrapped around Adam’s waist, the latter resting one of his hands on the the former’s hairier chest.

Both men took a quick step away from one another, blushing furiously. Neither of them wanted to admit that they wanted to step closer though, opting to look anywhere but at the other.

Adam took a nervous breath and readied himself to see if all the weirdness really was just due to the steam. “So, like, that was suuuuper weird,” he said, his heart falling at the words that left his mouth.

At the worried look that crossed over Adam’s features, Vlad felt an unknown protective surge inside of him, and he stepped forward and enveloped the smaller man in his arms. He was shocked by his actions, having never held another man so intimately before, but he couldn’t deny that he liked it. “Relax, Baby,” he said. “Let’s go home and figure this out.”

Adam was so focused on how much he loved to have his face shoved in the older man’s hairy chest that he didn’t register that, somehow, the two men knew that they lived together. He nodded and reluctantly pulled himself away from the older man. “Like, that sounds like a great idea, Daddy,” he muttered, pausing when he looked at the other man, staring straight ahead to only see Vlad’s clavicles. “Oh em gee! I, like, totally shrunk!”

When they’d started their workout this morning, Adam had actually been taller than Vlad by at least two inches, but now that he looked at the older man, he realized that he was now the shorter of the two. In his panic, he let his towel fall to the ground.

Vlad winced and fought the lust that ran throughout his hairy body as he stared at the naked man before him. He felt himself lick his lips hungrily as he looked at his younger companion’s bulging pecs and chiseled abs, running his gaze downward to the the two-inch nub that poked out above a set of balls that resembled cherry tomatoes.

“Oh shit,” he grunted. “Babe, please don’t panic, but I think I’m gonna have a lot more fun with your ass than your cock.”

“Like, what are you talking about?” Adam asked, cocking his eyebrow. He looked down at himself in confusion. When he saw his shrunken equipment, he let out a loud shriek of terror. “Like, what happened to my nub?!” He stomped his foot in frustration. “My nub! No, my nub! Fuck me! I don’t have a nub, I have a c-c- NUB!”

“Relax, Babe, you’re gettin’ all worked up,” Vlad said in a calm voice. “Daddy will take care of everything.”

“That’s, like, totally easy for you to say!” Adam spat, putting both of his hands on his hips as he talked. “I, like, get stuck with this puny nub, while you get a big, juicy cock!” He gestured forward at the older man.

Vlad glanced down and nearly fainted when he saw the large tent in his towel. He quickly tossed the cloth to the floor and stared wide-eyed at the foot long cock that was as large as a beer can and balls that were as big as oranges. It waved wildly in front of him and leaked precum the more he looked at the smaller (in both senses of the word) man.

“Daddy, like what happened to us?” Adam panicked, his pathetic nub throbbing with want the more he stared at the older man. “Like, why am I sooooo horny right now?”

Vlad wanted nothing more than to figure out what was wrong too so that they could fix it and return to their normal relationship as trainer and client. However, deep down, the new feelings inside of him made it so that a part of him really didn’t want to go back. “Daddy will take care of that for ya, Babe,” he cooed, walking forward and wrapping his arms around the younger stud affectionately. He bent down and began to kiss up the panicked man’s jawline.

Adam was overcome with such a surge of lust and love for the older man who he called ‘Daddy’, and before he could register what was happening, the two of them were making out in the locker room. The two men felt one another up and it wasn’t long before Vlad was on his back and Adam was bouncing on his cock, grasping both of the older man’s inflated nipples. The two of them heatedly made love in the locker room, being known as the gym’s cutest couple from then on.

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 21!!

July 21st <3

Core - @jegulus-microfic - words: 881

First part Previous part

Arms swinging at their sides, pale skin reflecting pale skin and dark raven hair twinning as it fell from both of their heads in perfect curls. Yet one reached his shoulders and the other busy below his ears. The sounds of the wind whipping through the trees surrounded them, leaving them in an blissful silence as it felt like the wind was hissing and whispering at them.

It was early morning, Regulus had decided that he wanted to be productive and go for a walk, before he knew it his tired feet seemed to mindlessly carry him to where his brother was staying, his shaky hand knocking on the door then followed by a creak, the open door revealing Sirius, who's face bloomed with a grin as soon as he saw Regulus.

So here they are now, going for a walk and talking as brothers should, because they really need to do that more. The love between the two Blacks was almost invisible to the naked eye, but Regulus could see it, so could his brother. They both loved hard and soft, in their own ways yet still so caring.

The only other difference between them now was the younger boys scowl and the older boys wary smile as he was clearly waiting to say something that was sure to draw some sort of negative reaction from Regulus.

"Reggie?" His brother asked hesitantly as they nearly came to a stop outside Regulus' cabin, which was out of sight but still only a few doors down.

"Yes, Sirius?" A response came with a sigh. "Spit it out."

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" He asked, his voice raising an octave.

"You clearly want to say something." He snapped, soon after realising he may have started being a bit too harsh, so his offered the best smile that he could muster - it wasn't a very wide or cheerful one, but it was there.

Sirius' face relaxed slightly, but it still held an unsettling tensity to it that urged Regulus to chew on his nails and nervously bite the skin of his glossy lips. See, he never knew what to expect from Sirius when they spoke, normally they avoided the harsh topics but that was a difficult thing to manage judging on their childhood. But there is one thing that Regulus can think happened, the one thing Sirius interrupted. He's been avoiding his brother ever since, praying he'd just forget or leave it alone, but clearly not. He still doesn't quite know what happened himself, how is he expected to explain it to Sirius?

They continued to walk, Sirius releasing what he had to say in one breath before pursing his lips and looking directly into Regulus' guilt filled eyes. "What happened at the movie night?"

"We watched movies." He replied bluntly

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Regulus avoided the question, as that was his only current solution, he didn't want to talk about it, not now, not ever. Especially not with Sirius out of all people.

The older flicked him on the arm, groaning and giving him an eyebrow raise to face Regulus' faux innocent face and his wide eyes as he yelped at the feeling of Sirius' nail hitting his arm with a sting. "Regulus!"

He only hummed in response, gaze sticking to the floor as they rounded the corner and made their way to Regulus' and James' shared cabin.

"I love you to the fucking core of my heart." Sirius started, Regulus scrunching his nose up at the affection but forcing himself to look up at his brother. "But you are so stubborn!"

"I'm not!"

"Fine." Sirius huffed. "Do you like him?" 

They walked through the door into the cabin, Sirius still tailing onto him like a dog following it's beloved, fast paced owner, as he kicked his shoes off and instantly sat himself - actually no, launched himself - onto Regulus' once neatly made, uncreased, bed. 

Music echoed from the bathroom, loud Arctic Monkeys songs blasted through the door as he could hear the low raspy humming of James as the water poured from the shower and hit the floor, Regulus taking in every single sound as the sound of his brothers horrific singing came into his ears.

"I'm not answering that." Regulus finally replied. 

"Regulus, do you like him-"

Seconds later, neither boys seemed to have noticed the lack of the sound of water and booming music coming from the bathroom. The door opened to let heaps of hot, sticky, steam out and James walked out.

The towel was tied sinfully low around his pointed waist, his hip bones stuck out and formed a lovely looking v shape that Regulus wanted to trace with his hands and admire it in all of its beauty. His tan skin had gotten darker during the summer, but with the water dripping from his torso it reflected the bright light that hung over Regulus' head. The smattering of hair ran under his towel made Regulus feel dizzy, the smile on his face when he saw Regulus standing there, hands on his hips and jaw lightly slack as he tried to push some words out of his mouth, made Regulus want to crumble to the wet wooden floor at his feet.

"Never mind." A cough came from the side of him as Sirius narrowed his eyes. "That answers my question." He sighed.

Next part

[mysteriesmuse]

“SLEEPING BEAUTY ME” [verb] Bakugo's having some dream, one that’s really more of a memory of something really sweet you did for him recently and he’s waking up with the urge to thank you — with a big fat whipped kiss. Anyways he’s patting the bed and looking over at your form all curled up next to his shoulder, blissfully asleep and he can hear the swish of your foot moving underneath the covers. Bakugou rising up halfway with his strong forearm and raising his other arm to gently cup your bare shoulder and try and shake you away from your dream. massive sigh when you scrunch your nose and curl your fingers like a little kitten just underneath your chin. Has his heart squeeze even while you’re asleep, and even while he’s asleep apparently, and he gently grabs your chin with his hand. Warm calloused fingers encapsulating as you puff little snoozy breaths onto that space between his nose and lips. He’s got a big thumb gently lifting your eyebrow and pulling up your eyelid to see your pupil do absolutely nothing in return and he’s just so torn. Feels the need to kiss you, but doesn’t wanna do it without your consent. Ya know? All frowny faced and pouty bc It’s just too early in your relationship for that. And like what’s a man to do?? Well Katsuki decides to place his hand across your forehead and places his pseudo-smacker’ there on the back of his hand. And yes, smacker that sucker was LOUD. he’d be embarrassed if you were awake to hear how loud and cheesy that big fat kiss he gave you was. but first thing in the morning when you stretch out across his chest like a lap dog he’s asking you, “hey baby, is it okay if I kiss you while you’re asleep? Like on the forehead or sumthin’ - i dunno know.” And you’re blinking up at him with hazy unfocused eyes that are already sliding closed. Arms staying still where they are hands absent mindedly grabbing and twirling at his hair. And you hum out a “why?” Bakugou can feel the wind coming out of him as he tries to explain, you snort as his hands find your sides as he sucks in another deep breath and steadies you, “something came up last night. wanted to kiss you, but you were asleep. Didn’t know if you’d be okay with it — thought I’d ask.” You start to stir more awake at this admission. Awkwardly pulling yourself up with the hands on his head, but Bakugou just lets you slide yourself up his body like that. Tiny hands pushing at his head until yours is level with his. “Like a prince? You wanna sleeping beauty me?” And he’s staring at your face blissfully still grasping onto sleep as he nods, your hands gently bonking again his fluffy locks as he rubs his nose against yours, the verbiage you’re making up has him wrinkling his nose in dislike, mumbling, “something like that, baby.” And you’re pulling back a little cooing, “yes, you can give me a kiss! Suki’ that’s so sweet you’re asking — no, I don’t mind.” Got him sighing and rolling his eyes as your hand slide down his temple and your little fingers poke over the smile he’s biting back. A small smile on your own, “well now that that’s settled I’m going back to sleep. Too early for me,” you mumble. And he smiles kissing at your fingertips, “ok then, princess.” And Katsuki watches you sigh, sliding your eyes closed as you let him continue playing with his fingers. A normal breath or two before a big one that would probably suck at your baby hairs — like a vacuum in a cartoon, before Katsuki’s placing that big fat smackeroo’ he’s been dying to give you all morning. RIGHT on your forehead with so much passion and love, and light shoved against your skull. Like he’s trying to pound it right into your brain itself and — oh my god you might have a headache later today because of it.

And your eyes shoot wide open. And Katsuki’s staring at you with such affection as he brushes back that hair he’s so violently disturbed by his nostrils and you’re oh so wide awake now and the first thing you do is whine. You whine, a mewling noise — out of adoration and pain. Your boyfriend is watching with keen interest and slight suspect at you, you shove again his chest lightly, “on second thought you have those privileges revoked. Can’t believe what I’d be missing out on. And, seriously,” you rub at your forehead. — is that gonna form a bruise?! “— that hurt.” You groan with a grin. Katsuki’s now sheepishly burrying half of his face into his pillow as you continue rubbing the gonna be hard to explain bruise on your forehead. And he’s grabbing your hands again and feverishly pressing chaste kisses all over them, and he grunts out, “sorry, don’t know the strength of m’ love for you just yet.” your heart skitters like a fawn, or a foul, or anything fast and on 4-legs. And your legs absent mindedly kick a little under the covers, “really?” you whisper. Because this might just be the single most romantic thing that has ever happened to you. And it’s coming from a notoriously emotional stunted man who’s made every effort in your currently short relationship to tell you otherwise. He nods, whincing as he prods your forehead with a big fat finger. Katsuki hisses as he continues your examination, “sometimes it’s hard to keep it in check.” you wanna melt. And not just because the heat around him has turned up because he’s nervous and embarrassed — The thing you first picked up on after your first date with him. His nerves coating you both like a stove on the holidays.

Katsuki prods at your forehead bruise with another finger. Brows wrinkled in full restraint and rebellion against the natural strength he’s built up over the years. He frowns, “yeah maybe I shouldn’t do that again.” you hum, an unhelpfully and purposefully non-comittal sound as Katsuki stares at you, “m’ sorry Honeybunch.” Honey. bunch. — an echoing of a pet name you told him you like once. ONCE. One that doesn’t match anything about his gruff personality, but should rightfully be applied to him every single second of the day. you grin again. it’s not even 6am yet. stupid hero work schedule. “it’s okay, but maybe let’s hold off on those super-power packed kisses of yours, — for now,” you add, watching the way his red eyes glimmer with relief and satisfaction. And like everything else he’s learning to do he nods eagerly, quickly grunting out a “I’ll work on it.”

you smile again, gently pulling his hand that’s poking at your forehead to your lips where you press the kind of permanently stamped love in his palm — the kind you imagine he was going for. Katsuki’s mouth trembles, an action that means he’s a little overwhelmed. You grin self-satisfied at the expression, you bring his palm to cup your cheek, “you can always make it up to me — by kissing it better.” Katsuki practically swoops, darts in eagerly. “— gently!” you playfully chastise as you grab his face, lips pursed as he holds one hand against the back of your head which would suggest this next one may only be a little less strong and slightly less painful. — and that it is, his apology kiss. And the moment he slips out of bed to go take a shower you’re already grabbing your phone off the nightstand and zooming in to take a video of your face. Bc this is a narratable moment if you’ve ever seen one and you ought to capture it with its full fresh bruising glory for your friend and most importantly your future selves, and maybe future kids . . . bc if you weren’t sure he was the one before you are now.

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: I -Eyes-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 2.1k+

♠︎Warning: physical abuse, dead animal, non-consensual touching, murder, stalking, nudity.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Far away from the mellow kingdoms, was the realm of Jeon. From far away, the gloomy, blue-grey sky was evident. No one from other kingdoms even dared to look towards that domain.

It reeked of sins. From far away, one could hear the screams of the commoners. No one dared to even think about following the path after the sun dimmed down. But the thing was that the kingdom was miles and miles away. It took almost three days to travel from the nearest kingdom to Jeon’s realm by horse. That single fact sent chills down others’ spines. Even from that far away, they could hear the wrong happenings.

The skies above his realm looked dull, blue-grey. The clouds of madness always covered the sky. It was all hunted. The King haunted the realm. His bureaucrats danced with the movements of his fingers. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master.

No one has ever seen his face other than those who worked in his castle. The commoners always heard that sometimes, the King himself would come patrolling but all of his warriors wore heavy masks. Dressed in black cloaks hiding half of their face. The lower half would be covered with black cloth. Metal chains dangling from the big wide metal ferronnière.

They rode their dark horses. Whenever they passed by, the zone would become quiet, eerily quiet. No one in their right mind would raise their head to look at them and go against them. The fear among those peasants was his majesty's pride. He loved the look of fear, the way their eyes trembled, and mouths mumbled for forgiveness even though they did nothing wrong.

This was just one per cent of his wickedness. The dirty secrets remained in his realm but his dirty secrets remained in his castle.

The castle.

It was far away from the region where commoners lived. Everything that came in the way of the castle was creepy. The mist always covered the path. They say that this mist was the souls of those who died there. And there were many… mounds of them. And most of them didn’t die naturally.

It was as if dark mist spiralled over the realm.

“Coronis! Bring back the calf! Draco has to go to get meat from the Henrys,” Coronis’ mother asked from the kitchenette.

“In a moment!” Coronis looked at her reflection through the water in a wooden bucket. Her hair was black, her pretty eyes were painted with Kohl. Her lips were chapped but the tint from the beetroot she patted a while ago was making her lips look luscious. And the natural tint on her cheeks.

She was known to be beautiful in the village. Men felt honoured even if she breathed in their path. Though she didn’t come out of her shack as much. She lived there with her parents, Draco and Martha, an older brother named Onyx, and a younger sister of eight years, Circe. She herself was eighteen soon to turn nineteen.

After being satisfied with her looks, she hummed and went inside and picked up the rope and took a sharp knife with her. Letting her mother know, she stepped out to get her calf back.

Knife.

She wasn't going to kill anyone. Unless.

The chilly air threaded through her hair and her white gown fluttered along the wind.

On her way to the meadows, she saw a man beating a woman, most likely his wife, with a whip. Her face was red and blue from the punches she had received. But no one paid any attention to them.

A little further, she saw a dead pig on the side of the path, and an old man was slicing it open. Coronis scrunched her eyebrows and looked away. It was common to see these heartless humans doing bloody shit.

This realm moved with the saying ‘You live until you survive.’

Near the meadows, she saw a girl being touched by much older men, probably without her wish. Her cheeks were soaking from tears. Her delicate hands were trying to push away the men but her hands were delicate and those men were dedicated.

Reaching the meadows, she made it quick to find the calf. Seeing her stamp on the calf, she tied the rope around its neck and pulled it to follow her back to their shack.

There were stamps embroidered on every cattle. It was to mark them as their property. The one's without the stamp were usually killed for food, leather, and jewellery. The animals that were bred to be killed were reserved only for the castle. The men would come on their horses and would fill up their carriers with goods and take them to the castle.

As Coronis was returning, the sound of horses’ clops started coming closer along with their neigh. She knew better and pulled her calf to the corner of the path and kept walking. The horses started passing her. The village quieted down. Only the horses and their riders could be heard.

The path was broken and uneven, and small and big rocks were peeking out of the ground. A man stumbled and fell in front of a horse that was coming from the opposite direction, making it stop. The man got off the horse and picked up that old man with one hand and made him stand again.

“How dare you stumble our way!” He yelled. “Do you not see who is crossing?!”

The old man fell on his knees and held the feet of the patrolman. “I-I-I st-stumbled a-and fell, master! P-please, for-forgive me!”

The patrol man’s chuckle could be heard. He pulled out his sword and made a quick job and sliced his head off.

To Coronis’ bad luck, the head fell just in front of her feet. His bony face was ugly. His teeth were rotting and his beard was dirty. The blood was pouring from where his neck was supposed to be. She looked up at the man who was now getting back on his horse.

But her eyes fell on the man behind him. His eyes were boring holes into her skull. They all wore black cloth from the nose and down, and their foreheads had metal ferronnière but his was heavier and had sharp, long spikes pointing out. The chains were dangling down and were attached to his mask, decorating his face. He wore heavy chains around his neck. His horse was different from others.

She knew he was not any other guard man. He was different. He held power. To what strength, she wasn't aware of that. The higher-ups kept themselves hidden away from the eyes of the commoners.

Coronis didn’t look away from his eyes. They looked into each other’s eyes. Her eyebrows were frowned up. Her face was covered in disgust.

Slowly, they passed by. But that one man remained behind and passed even slowly all while looking into her eyes without blinking. Just like her, he too had kohl painted around his eyes.

She looked at him up and down, his fingers had heavy jewellery and metal nails attached to them. His cloak covered his head. (Lower left picture in the mood board).

His eyes held darkness. The darkness in his eyes was darker than the whole realm and the night itself. He screamed menace. After what felt like a long moment, he passed by and kept moving while she looked at his back.

It all happened slowly. The picture was stuck in her head. It sent chills through her spine. She wished to never cross her path with him. Ever again.

Turning back around, she inhaled sharply seeing that head still laying there. She kicked it away and kept walking.

The moment she opened the door to her shack, her mother's voice rang, “Those men passed by! Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I'm alright,” she said and went inside the slot that she shared with her sister. “Where is Circe?!” she asked.

“She was in the slot!” her mother said.

“Circe!” Coronis called and went outside. “Circe!” the younger girl turned around and looked at her older sister. “Go back inside! How many times do I need to tell you not to go outside without any of us by your side?” She held her arm and dragged her inside. “And the escorts are marching outside! Do you know how dangerous it is?”

“I'm sorry! I wanted to wander around for a moment. It has been days since I last saw the outside world!” Circe huffed.

“Outside world?! Do you know how bad it is?!” she held her head out of frustration. “Ugh, you will realize one day.”

Coronis was about to turn around when she saw someone outside the window but with a blink of her eye, it was gone. She shook her head and exhaled.

Maybe she was tired.

…

“Here is your liquor, majesty,” one of the guards bowed as he presented the drink to the king.

The King took the glass. He removed his mask from below and drank it all in one inhale and threw the glass away. “Lord, that is Danny's workshop. He still hasn't paid us the tariff. He is behind by one day and owes ten stones.”

The King smirked under his mask and nodded. He turned his horse and proceeded towards his castle. “You know what to do.”

His eyes moved towards a house where that lady with calf went. He smirked and moved ahead. “You too will realize…”

…

The whispers woke Coronis up. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She looked around and saw her sister still sleeping.

It was typical to hear people crying, screaming, or talking outside. But these whispers were eerily low and were coming for one side. She knew exactly what was wrong.

She stood up and walked outside. The people were surrounded by the tall wooden bar that had an arrow above it, there lay a man who was known as Denny. His wife was tied to the pole, naked, and abused. Dead.

Coronis looked at their shack… Burnt.

“Go inside,” Draco asked his older daughter.

“Two hundred and sixty-seventh,” she looked at her father. “This year. On this pole. In only five months,” she remained and counted them too.

“Try to not be the next one,” he said and took her back inside.

“What is going on?” Circe asked.

“Nothing,” Onyx said. “Stay inside.”

“They are doing this more often. They were only a day late in paying the tariff. Just yesterday, when I went to Denny's Housewife for a new knife, she said they would pay the tariff today. Poor them,” Martha sighed and placed the salad on the table with a teapot filled with brewed tea. “Have it.”

Everyone sat around the table and ate their meal. “I'm going to the east,” Onyx said. “They asked me to bring a new supply of opium.”

“When will you be back?” Draco asked.

“Soon.”

…

After an early meal, Coronis helped Onyx with packing. Later she went to her slot and took out clothes for her to wear and stepped outside to take a bath. The wooden buckets were already filled with water that they brought from the well every day.

After getting rid of her clothes, she used soap and washed herself up. All the while she felt someone staring at her. She looked around but saw nothing. But then her eyes fell on the tree in front of her. It was dense. One could easily hide inside it. There she saw a pair of eyes looking right into hers. She gasped and stumbled back. She quickly picked up the drying cloth to cover herself and ran back inside.

Her breath was huffing. She slid down the door and tried to control her breath. Her eyes fell on the fresh clothes that she took and wore quickly and waddled into the kitchenette. “Do not bathe outside,” she gritted. “There is someone up in the tree.”

Martha looked at Coronis with wide eyes. And then at Cirice who was already looking haunted. Then nodded her head. “Are you alright?”

Coronis shut her eyes tightly and let out a sigh. “No,” she whispered. “Just don't go outside.”

She was afraid. This never happened with her. There were times when she needed to attack people just to come back home with her dignity still intact but this was so much worse. She was even afraid to look outside.

But being protective over her family, she looked outside through the window to see if the man went away or not. There was no one on the tree. She looked around and checked everywhere in her sight but no one.

She turned around but stopped. Turning back she looked at the place where she had left her dirty clothes… all were gone. Even the underclothing.

“Don’t look out. Put that cloth on the window and come back,” her mother said. “Betty's mother has some vegetables left after the sale, I'll get them and come back as soon as possible. Please, look after yourself and Circe,” she opened a drawer and took out a butcher's knife. “Keep this with you,” she whispered and took the smaller knife with her.

.....

Sanaa’s note:

The chapters will get bigger I think? There are so many details I wanna include. Hope you liked this part! Lemme know your thoughts on this one. Feedback really helps me and motivates me to write more. Take care!

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes; @darkuni63 @mageprincess7

Have a nice day/night💓

[wannaeatramyeon]

Young!Samuel Seo with Young!Reader: Leave him be

G/N. Dinner Guest. Sorta expansion on Food.

Your mom and dad have forbidden you from wandering on your own.

It's too dangerous, you might get run over, you might get snatched. You're too young. When you're older. Blah blah blah.

Everything needs to wait until you're older. Ugh.

So how come he (and you stare accusingly at the oblivious kid) gets to wander around on his own? Entering your family's store without an adult. He even looks younger than you!

You scrunch up your face at the unfairness of it all.

.

.

Shaking, nervous fingers swipe a candy bar from a shelf before being hastily shoved into a pocket.

He glances around, peering left and right. Shifty and obvious as hell.

You open your mouth, about to yell, when you feel your father's firm grip on your arm. His lips, usually smiling and joyful, are pulled into a thin line. He shakes his head no.

"Leave him be," he murmurs.

The boy scurries out and you think life is more unfair than ever.

.

.

"Leave him be," is repeated at you each time as the adults hold you back.

What is it about the strange boy, with the unkempt hair and dirty shoes that lets him get away with so much?

The unkempt hair and dirty shoes-

And grubby oversized clothes. Same shorts and t-shirt everyday.

And coat worn thin at the elbows. Too thin for this weather, and you think about your own that your mom fusses over and wraps you in everyday.

And hands fisted by his stomach. Trying to mute his own hunger pang and rumbles.

And, today, a bruise and swelling on his right cheek. Finger prints marked into his wrist when he reaches out for the candy bar and his coat sleeve rides up.

Even as a child yourself, you finally get it - what the adults mean when they tell you to 'leave him be'.

.

.

He lingers.

Used to scurry away like an unwanted pest, not meeting your eyes on the way in or out.

Now the minutes stretch on. Elongates into double digits. Is it because the weather has turned bitter and harsh? Has your family convenience store, with tight aisles full of colourful snacks, food packaged in plastic and cartoon characters, now become a safe space?

You're playing by the back shelves, full of household odd items that never seem to shift and feel a pair of eyes watching you.

You turn and he's there. Staring.

"What are you doing?" The boy asks. It's the first time you've heard him speak.

"Playing," You shrug, and his eyebrows knit at the concept. "Wanna play? I can be the customer and you can be the owner."

He shuffles, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and back again, and you think he might bolt and that's the end of that. You'll never see him again.

But-

He looks at you with his big brown eyes, more calculating and shrewd than bears thinking about for a child his age, the bruise on his cheek now mottled green and purple and says-

"Ok."

.

.

It's a small and quiet 'ok' but he doesn't bolt. Your dad brings back drinks and snacks. All your favourites and more, and you think it's something to do with the presence of this boy-

"Samuel," he tells you, then eyes widening as if he let a secret slip.

"Y/N," you respond, not registering his reaction and only focusing on the game at hand.

"Y/N," he says quietly to himself. Trying out the sounds and syllables in his mouth.

You both play until the street lights flicker, turning on and covering the world in a warm orange hue.

"What time is it?" his head whips around nervously, reality crashing down on both your make-believe world.

"Six," your dad calls out, taking a break from stocking the ramen, "Did you want to stay for dinner?"

“Six!” Samuel exclaims, and you wonder if that is his curfew or something. Your eyes are drawn to his bruise again. "I have to go," 

He rushes towards the exit, nearly tripping over clumsy feet in his haste to leave. Trying to tug on his coat and button it, a small resistance against the unforgiving and cutting wind chill.

"Come play next time!" you shout at his retreating back.

Samuel's hand stills on the door. He turns, smiling, yearning and wistful before the cold, dark street claims him.

"Next time." 

[mountedeverest]

Fuck it Friday

Buck x Tommy Drabble 7x06 spec T (sorta)

A little tease! I've been reading the interviews, especially Lou's where he says he makes a "dramatic entrance" at Madney's wedding, and this is what I had in mind!! Rest of drabble under cut. Enjoy ! Tags ✨ @tizniz LMK if you'd like to be added/removed

"Who's that? Bringing in the groom?"

Somewhere off to Buck's side, some lady is pointing up at the sky. As the whipping sound of blades gets increasingly louder, Buck turns just in time to see the bird closing in, a worse-for-wear but alive Chim on it's passenger side waving at the wedding guests below.

Buck smiles.

"That would be my boyfriend."

The helicopter touches down on the patch of grass they had just cleared. The blades start winding down and Hen, ever the Best Woman, runs up to Chim who looks like he's just about to keel over. It doesn't take too long for Tommy to make his way out and around the chopper to join the other guests, but just as he emerges, Buck sees him, and he is not looking respectfully.

The suit Tommy's wearing is fitted. The first few buttons on his dress shirt are undone and his hair doesn't seem to have product, which means it's curly and moving with the wind. He's wearing his pilot sunglasses like he's out of fucking Top Gun.

Buck goes weak in the knees a little. Tommy is so cool.

What's more, when Tommy clocks him, he cracks the widest smile at Buck, all sunshine and puppy dogs. His nose scrunches up.

Buck practically runs to meet him halfway, and Tommy only has time to remove his sunglasses before Buck takes a hold of Tommy's face with both hands and crashes his whole mouth against his, full tongue. It is not a gentle kiss.

Never mind that Buck was supposed to soft launch his boyfriend.

Never mind that he'd only told a select few that he was out.

Never mind that they were currently very surrounded, by many people who knew them both yet were unaware of the new developpments.

Tommy goes with it, not necessarily one for extreme PDA, but his hands - huge, huge hands - wrap around Buck's sides to his lower back, gently stabilizing them both.

When they break apart for air after what could be qualified as a long time for a kiss, Tommy has this bewildered look on his face, like he'd just been hit in the face with something. In a sense, he had.

"You are... happy to see me?" Tommy's not really asking, more like he's trying to unscramble his brain after all of his braincells tragically died with the force impact of Buck's mind-numbing kiss.

"That was so, so hot." Buck grits through his teeth, cute aggression on full as his fingers twist in the short hair at the back of Tommy's head. "I'm not well."

"Down, boy." Tommy chuckles nervously, soothing Buck with a hand on his chest. He smiles coyly. "If you're good during the ceremony, maybe we can uh, find a less public place later to say hello."

If this was a cartoon, steam would come out of Buck's ears and nostrils, his heart would beat out of his chest, or he'd just explode. Real life comes close though, because Buck can feel himself flush all the way down to his toes. If his knees were a lil weak before, well, they're giving out now.

"Woah there!" Tommy catches him and keeps him upright as Buck finds his footing.

"This is what you do to me, Tommy." Buck says back in a somewhat strangled, accusatory tone.

Tommy only chortles, as he guides them towards the alley where, hopefully, there was gonna be a wedding soon.

[incalamity]

mishanks + morning | 622 words

Shanks isn’t fond of waking up before the sun, or rising with the sun, or doing much of anything before it’s —at the very least—high noon; but the picture of Mihawk waking up an hour before dusk and training with his sword is something far too enticing for even a drunkard like himself to ignore. So, he wakes up an hour before dusk.

The castle is horrendously creepy at night, all tall walls and dark shadows and strange noises. It makes him laugh because it’s all so much like Mihawk to live in a dreary, weird place like this. He makes it out of the winding halls eventually, finding himself outside the castle steps. He is greeted with the best kind of hello: Mihawk’s arms flexing as he swings Yoru downwards.

He leans against the nearest surface, stumbling his way into a somewhat relaxed position, and lets out a low whistle. He grins when the noise only elicits an annoyed pull from the corner of Mihawk’s mouth. 

Mihawk continues his motions, unaffected as he lifts his arms up, his muscles twitching ever-so-slightly as he brings his sword down again, this time, the swing so strong it audibly slashes the air.

Shanks wonders if Mihawk expects him to join, but then again, they’ve never trained with each other—and something tells him that Mihawk would be unhappy about that prospect—so he stays glued to his spot. He watches Mihawk with careful eyes—as careful as he can be at an early enough time that the sun hasn’t yet risen—and follows the lines of his veins and the pull of his tendons and the jump of his muscles.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he knows there’s been enough effort exerted on Mihawk’s part because now, there is a sheen of sweat covering his body. 

Mihawk stops his movements only to lift a hand to his forehead, wiping until a splash of sweat whips itself off from his fingertips. He scrunches his nose—it’s a miniscule expression, a small twitch of muscles, but Shanks sees it all the same—in that displeased way of his whenever something goes even the tiniest bit awry.

“Not used to sweat like us common folk, Hawkeyes?” Shanks can’t really help himself. Teasing Mihawk is built into his bones.

Mihawk rests Yoru on his shoulder and lets his eyes travel up Shanks’ body until it falls onto his gaze. “If you’re content on doing nothing, do you mind preparing breakfast at the very least?” He sounds exasperated, like he can’t quite believe that Shanks is taking up space in his home, but Shanks knows him better than that.

Shanks grins, and he finds himself squinting against the sudden rise of the sun. “You’ll make a proper housewife of me yet, won’t you?” he asks, smirking when Mihawk turns his head away, using his blade to cover his face. It’s too late, though, he sees the flush on Mihawk’s cheeks and he’s almost certain it didn’t come from the hour or so of training. 

“No one expects you to stay in one place for too long, Red Hair,” Mihawk says eventually, lowering his sword and lifting his chin until the sun glints so perfectly against the silver of his blade and the softness of his skin. “I certainly don’t. I only expect things of you in the moment. And in this moment, I ask you to prepare breakfast. Please try not to set anything on fire this time.”

Shanks smiles and peels himself off the wall. “No promises!” he shouts, and he dashes off before Mihawk can get an exasperated word in edgewise, but he chances a glance back to see Mihawk’s pretty silhouette in the bright array of morning sunlight.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.9K]

When you’d told Steve you had a bad day, a bad week, you’d hadn’t expected him to do anything about it. Maybe give you a hug, sure, a kiss or five, a soft assurance that good days would come. 

He gave you all of that but you didn’t expect him to pull you into his lap and card his fingers through your hair, thumb pushed to the soft of your cheek and ask:

“How can I make it okay?”

You were so ready to shrug, to try and hide the tears gathering at your lash line because he was looking at you so sincerely it ached. Steve couldn’t make the bad days go away, but he could make the next one better. 

So he picked you up the next morning, the early sun making the summer sky hazy, that pretty pink lilac shade that still hung amongst the blue and Steve Harrington waited for you on the sidewalk like an all American dream. 

He stood by his car, hands in his pockets, leaning against the door, all summer and smiles, tanned skin and a new freckle or two because Steve was June and July and August, the beginning of a heatwave, the end of the longest, lightest night. 

All your stress ebbed away as you walked down the driveway to him, sundress short and flowy, Steve’s favourite colour on you and you acted coy as he gave you a whistle, low and all flirt, eyes flitting over your bare legs. 

He grinned, opened his arms for you to run the rest of the way into, catching you around the waist, kissing you soundly. It was sweet like the early hour, still sleep lined and soft, tasting like leftover mint toothpaste and coffee. Steve made a show of littering your face with kisses, even when you feigned annoyance, hiding your smile by ducking your chin but the boy pulled laughter from you like it was his job. 

And Steve was very, very good at his job. 

So he pressed spearmint kisses to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, over your lashes, your forehead, even an ear. He swallowed your laughter like medicine, gave you it back like a shot of serotonin and sunshine. 

“You ready?” Steve grinned, leaning into your touch as you smooth over his hair, fingers curling into the messy strands at the nape of his neck. 

“For what?” You’d replied, nose scrunched, eyes bright, ‘cause it was barely nine o’clock in the morning and it was already better than yesterday. 

“Only, like, the best day of your life,” Steve shrugged, smile downturned to play off his enthusiasm, all faux nonchalance as he pushed off of the door, turning to open it for you with a flourish. 

You laughed, bright and sharp, leaning over the top of the open car door, pushed to your toes so you could press your forehead to Steve’s. His eyes crinkled in the corners at your touch, your giddy smile, the smell of your perfume, your closeness. 

“Oh yeah? That’s big talk, Harrington,” your voice was quiet and teasing, enough flirt there to make Steve’s cheek ache from smiling so much. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “Gonna rock your world, pretty thing. Buckle up.”

He drove you out of town with the windows down and the relief you felt as you passed the Hawkins sign was palpable. You left your worries behind, your stress, the nights with little sleep. The car smelled like Steve’s cologne, like takeaway coffee and leftover sunscreen and cologne from pool days last week. 

The boy wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you, would grin and squeeze softly at your thigh when you asked, warm palm curling around the bare skin under your dress, high enough to be almost scandalous, to make you feel as hot as the sun was on the windscreen. He turned the radio up louder, beamed when you sang along, eyes closed, head tipped back, wind whipping at your hair. 

It took about an hour and a half to drive into Indianapolis, the fields and farmland left behind to give way to a bigger landscape, taller buildings, wider roads and a lot less trees. You were leaning forward at each traffic light, looking at the signs, wondering what turn Steve was going to take next, where you’d end up. 

You gasped when Steve turned the last corner, the road bending and leading into a large parking lot, not all that busy. The sign above the big building told you exactly where you were. 

“The aquarium?” You asked, as if Steve was joking, as if he was going to drive away and your voice sounded small, soft and full of emotion. 

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, pulling into a space and turning off the engine. He turned to look at you, brown eyes as warm as honey, just as sweet too. “You told me your grandfather used to take you here, right?”

You nodded, lips pressed together so you didn’t cry or do something stupid, like ask the boy to marry you. 

“I figured it had maybe been a while since you’d come, but,” Steve tilted his head to look at you, pressed a thumb to your chin in a fond touch, “I thought it’d be a pretty chill day out.”

You hiccuped a laugh, eyes almost turning glassy and Steve would’ve been alarmed if he didn’t know you as well as he did. He leaned in, seatbelt still buckled and straining but he was smiling, that soft, warm smile you swore he only used for you. 

“Good surprise?” He murmured, nose nudging at your cheek. You were warm and it made him feel a little proud, happy to elicit such a pretty reaction from you. 

“Good surprise,” you confirmed, grinning as you let him kiss you, a soft peck of his lips against yours that soon gave way to more, as warm as the sun on the back of your neck. 

Your lips parted for Steve, far too easily considering the public setting but you were leaning over the console to meet him halfway, head tilted, mouth slanting over the boy’s as he kissed you soft and deep. It made you sigh, a sound that Steve swallowed, a contented little noise that Steve swore was his favourite, one he loved to try and pull from you whenever he could. He ran his tongue over yours, pulled back just enough to make you chase him, smiling through the kiss as you tutted at him, at his smugness. 

“If this makes you happy enough,” Steve murmured against your lips, grinning when you moved to kiss at his chin, his jaw, “I’m more than okay to do this all day.”

You snorted a little, a huff of laugh pressed against the line of his neck and you nipped the skin there to make him shudder. It worked and you pulled back, eyes a little darker than before, a shade that complimented Steve’s, both of your lips kiss bitten and rosy. 

“That’s a really tempting offer,” you told him and you weren’t even kidding, not really, not that much. “But I wanna see the sharks.”

Steve laughed, lips pressed together as he looked at you with so much adoration that it hurt your chest. He reached down to unfasten your seatbelt before doing the same to his, smoothing down your skirt and tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb rubbed a soft line over the high of your cheekbone. 

“Yeah? Sharks?” 

“Sharks,” you confirmed. 

So Steve slung an arm around your shoulders as you crossed the lot, two hands holding his as you stood by his side at the front desk, rolling your eyes when the boy refused to let you pay half. But giddy excitement took over as you walked out of the lobby and into the first room, dark except for the lights in the tanks, blue reflections on the floor, the walls, the sounds of trickling water and absolute peace.

Steve followed a little behind you, smiling fondly as your face lit up and lavender and fuchsia lights painted your face. It turned you cheeks a deeper colour than normal, lavender lips, barbie pink eyelids, eyelashes casting shadows. 

You touched the glass gently with your fingertips, everything about you soft, Steve noted. You watched the jellyfish float up and down, dreamlike in their motions, their slow dance reflected in your eyes. Steve was looking at you again. 

“I could stay here all day,” you told him quietly, a small smile on your face. 

Steve believed you, had watched the tension soften and ease from your shoulders, the weight of the world crumbling away as you watched the light dance off of the water. 

Steve leaned against the tank, a shoulder pressed to the glass so the lilac light scattered itself across his cheek, the slope of his jaw. His brown eyes looked black in the dark room and he was still watching you. You made his heart thump, a little harder than normal, just a little faster than it should. 

“But what about the sharks?” He asked and he grinned when you smiled, body leaning into his to indulge him. 

Steve’s fingertips caught yours, a soft touch, a beckon, a silent: ‘wanna come with me?’ You let him tangle your hand with his, fingers linked. He tilted his head and you followed, both of you walking past the few kids that were silently watching the stingrays float at the bottom of a shallow pool, noses almost touching the water. 

“I think I needed this,” you told Steve, voice sticky with emotion. The week had been hard, sleep not coming all that easy. You leaned into his, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you walked through the dark corridors, posters of sea creatures and underwater plants lining the walls. “This is nice.”

Steve smiled, turning his face to press a kiss to your temple, hand squeezing yours a little tighter. You seemed less tired, eyes a little brighter than he’d seen them in a while. 

“Yeah?” He murmured, pleased by your words. His cheeks were pink but you didn’t dare tease. “Good. I just want you to be happy, babe.”

It felt like your chest caved in at his words, so soft and so kind - so sincere - that your heart hurt. You stopped and tugged him back by the hand, a look of surprise in Steve’s eyes as he gazed at you. 

“C’mere,” you asked quietly, uncaring that you were in front of a tank, a shoal of pink seahorses swimming across coral behind you both. 

You anchored yourself to the boy, hands gripping his waist, fingers twisted into his cotton t-shirt. You pushed onto your toes, chin tilted up and you didn’t need to ask before Steve was leaning down for you, a smile already on his lips, eyes fluttering closed. 

“I’m here,” he whispered and you could hear his happiness in those two words, you could taste the joy. 

“Need to kiss you,” you told him, matter of fact about it and before he could reply, you were pushing your lips to his, a soft sound of delight coming from his chest. 

It was chaste, considering the few people that were milling around, too entranced by the animals to really take notice of two young lovers in the navy shadows. But you took your time with it, caught Steve’s bottom lip between yours, nudged at his cheek with your nose so he would indulge you a little more, leaning down further so you could trap his top lip too. 

He was grinning when you pulled away, a smile that matched yours, pink in the cheeks and the ultraviolet lights in his eyes. 

“What was that for?” Steve asked, before quickly adding, “not that I’m complaining, like, at all.”

You smiled, shy, shrugged and crinkled your nose as if the boy was asking a silly question. “You make me happy.”

You got another kiss in return, just as sweet as the first. 

Steve followed you around the aquarium, almost losing you to the shadows before finding you in the light, your buttercup yellow sundress turned orange in the red spotlights, each one illuminating a tank of deep sea creatures, spindly and strange looked, your nose pressed to the glass and your eyes wide. 

The boy was happy to linger, watching you light up, the quiet of the aquarium easing the crinkle that had lived between your brows for a week or two. You looked pretty, like you always did, but almost too pretty under the glow, the refractions from the water dancing across your bare legs. It was the most innocent kind of joy and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at you when you walked through the shark tunnels, hand in hand and naming each species. 

“This is an almost odd fascination,” he said fondly as you told him all about the dwarf lantern shark, which was apparently as small as a goldfish. “And its belly lights up?” He repeated. 

You nodded, eyes still scanning the roof of the tunnel, the glass glittering against the water and the light. A large nurse shark swam overhead and you grinned. “Yup. Like a glow stick.”

That’s how it went, Steve letting you tug at his hand, holding onto his arm as you pointed out this fish and that shark. You both watched as a small octopus, bright red in colour as it opened a jar, both of you enraptured and heads touching, staring through the glass. 

The aquarium was close to closing as you sat on a bench at the last attraction, a huge domed room that was mostly glass, the only light trickling in from the inside the tank, warm and dim. It lit up the shoals of fish, slow swimming and brightly coloured, the coral on the sandy bed just as pretty. 

Every now and then something big would swim past, casting shadows over the floor, you and Steve, a giant turtle, a stingray or two. It was peaceful, dark and quiet, both of you lit up in navy and green. 

You were watching a fish, something long and flat looking, as it bobbed across the tank floor digging at the sand and rocks. Steve was watching you. 

“Did you know, coral produces its own sunscreen?” you told Steve. You didn’t wait for a reply, eyes on the moving plants, a sunset scene of coloured under the water. “They make their own algae to protect them from sun rays.”

Steve didn’t answer so you tore your eyes away from the clownfish that was darting in and out of the bright pink anemone to look at the boy. 

He was smiling, eyes soft and fond, already looking at you. There was small freckles of light on his cheeks, dancing the same way the water moved, disappearing when a fish swam in front of him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said. 

His words swallowed you whole, sticky like honey, warm and sweet and his voice was so full of affection for you that you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself. Steve was never shy with compliments and you were well used to them after being with him for so long, even before you were officially together. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart thump, a solid beat beneath your ribs that you swore could be heard out loud. 

You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard and completely enamoured by the boy beside you, with his wild hair and pretty eyes, all soft lips and sharp lines. He had new freckles, tiny dots you could see even in the shadows, ones you were sure he’d received from the day he spent with you out by his pool.

They made him look a little younger, boyish and achingly handsome. 

So you hid from him, cheeks warm and bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you pushed your face to your shoulder, hands covering yourself as you made some strange noises of protest, as if you’d ever dare argue with Steve about it. 

You heard rather than saw him laugh, and then, his fingers wrapped around your wrists, tugging gently. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he chided. “S’all mine.”

Steve pulled and you followed, onto your feet as he took your hands in his and towed you towards his lap. He settled you between his legs, tucked to his chest with his chin on your head, a kiss pressed there as you both watched the underwater world go by. 

You were grinning, beaming, that cheek aching kinda smile that you knew would last until bedtime and when Steve wrapped his arms around your middle and hugged you a little tighter, it only grew in size. He made you dizzy with happiness, turned you into a greedy, little thing that ached for his touch and attention, but oh my god, you’d never experienced joy like it. 

Steve was summer and sunshine and pool days and trips to the aquarium. He was long drives, messy hair, stolen kisses in the shadows and absolutely everything you needed. 

Everything you wanted. 

“Thank you,” you whispered and you wondered if he’d heard, if he could tell just how much you meant it. You felt weightless leaning against him, relaxed for the first time in days. 

But then he was curling down to you, lips on your cheek and you turned so he could catch the corner of your mouth, another kiss there for good measure. 

“Nothin’ to thank me for, baby,” he shrugged but you could tell he was smiling, you could tell he was happy that you were happy. “Jus’ doing my job.”

[darksxder]

do something about it

pairing: fem! avatar reader x avatar jake sully

summary: jake heard you were a forward woman but you never seemed to pick up on his hints. so he decided to make it a little more obvious and pray to god you were as possessive as they said.

warnings: sexual tension like such a ridiculous amount, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), spit play and dom!reader x sub/switch!jake, jealousy, possessive behaviour, description of war and injuries, talk of paralysis

word count: 2k

a.n: my first post after a year would be a jake sully smut coded drabble. its very fitting fr. also requests are open!! please send one besties all my ideas are too long lmao

sdt: @tarrynightss , @sunnybeewriting & more for inspiring me to write for Avatar! Ya’ll are so talented it is scary fr!!! special mention:  @belle82devart for supporting me always :) ilysm words cannot explain!

Jake never thought he would beg to be on his knees for a woman.

There was something about being a marine that bolsters this macho bravado habit where you crave to see a woman bend to your will. Sure the military was not all about 40 degree folded corners and standing up straight around a superior. It was all about strength, dominance and discipline and with  how deep that was ingrained-that translated to the bedroom.

You could take someone out of the marines but they never leave the mindset.

There was always an urge to pleasure a woman with this dominance, the rough hands and firm thrusts of course, but always in the promise of reciprocated bliss.

This was not that.

The second Jake saw your avatar he was done for.

He would have begged on his knees to just see your pussy right then and there if Grace wasn’t there and if he had been robbed of what little self-restraint he still possessed. He swore he drooled the second you pranced out behind Grace that first day. Your hair swishing in tandem with your lean hips as you moved to greet him. The woven nature of your top of beads drawing his eyes down. The adrenaline was still so high. It was just minutes after waking up in a new body- a full body. After he ran out of the facility to the field and training areas, everything was a blur of green and blue.  

He still was revelling in feeling his legs again.

In running and the feeling of the wind whipping past him, the smell of the earth and the way he could scrunch his toes in it, even the feel of a nice deep stretch in his calves. It was magnificent, but the feeling of being given back function of his legs also gave way to new sensations he had missed. And when he saw you nearly march besides Grace, a smile on your face, and sweet welcomes in his ears he felt his hands shake. Your hair in intricate braids and expertly weaved into many waves that fell down your back with your one braid resting along your spine shone like ink in the sun. The light igniting your full figure, sweta glistening on your skin. Your eyes are as bright as your smile. He could smell the fruit Grace hurled at him, smell all of the plants and something sweet. He could hear everything, even if he was tuning you all out as he took in the feeling.  

The sweet scent cut through it all. It made his mouth salivate. He knew it was coming from you.

Grace had noticed his stare that day, and cornered him the next before a link.

“You don’t have much of a chance, marine.” He only scoffed, ignoring the sharp twist of hurt in his gut at her chastising expression as she sat on the edge of the link pod, leaning down.

“How would you know?” He said, shifting in the green gel of the bed on his elbows, face heating.

She only laughed, pushing off the case before shoving his right shoulder down hard, driving his body into the green glue like substance around him. Her crows feet deep as she gave him a mocking smile, eclipsing the light in the bio lab, face not too unkind.

“You would. She’s a very forward one. She makes the first move.”

It felt like more of an order than a bit of well meant advice. But he did not mind. And as the words met his human ears he felt them burn hot. His heart raced as the metal cage-like thing locked him in place.

It took him a full eight minutes for his heart rate to slow down to a normal pace, and for his mind to calm.

Truly it took him more than that. Maybe even 20 minutes before the images of you- shoving him on his knees, lips swollen and bitten, eyes glossy and scent sweet as you straddled him-meant to start rocking against his face left him.

Since then he made it his mission to get you to break.

He first tried jealousy as you trained together in the forest with the People. He flirted with Neytiri every chance he could get, her even playing along after some time but you never bite.

Next step was showing you an obvious submission. This plan took the form of him as he dropped to his knees to tie the harness around your thighs one rainy day before riding. A mumbled ‘let me help you’ was the only thing accompanying the action as his legs met damp earth and his big blue hands smoothed up the back of your thighs to reach the clasps. He had heard your breath hitching, and he had smirked. Smile facing the ground, almost wide enough to break his face. His nose tingled as he had smelled you, taking in a deep inhale as his fingers crept up your inner thighs. He felt a slight brush against his ears. Felt the flutter of the still wind as you moved your hand.

He wanted you to pull his hair. Grab a handful of his braids and yank him up to your level or throw him to the floor like he was nothing. He would be hard even just at the touch he knew,  even if it was a rejection. Because he was hard now.

But he saw you got it, saw you understood the meaning of the getsure as he leaned back on his haunches beneath you, head tilted up, hands and nose buzzing with the memory of you. It was the look you gave him as he looked up. A deep purple settling against the highest points of your cheeks, to the tips of your pointed ears, hair pulled back in a braid, wisps framing your lovely face. This would be it,  he thought. He twitched at the idea.

But your jaw only clenched, anger overtaking your expression for a second until it dimmed to neutral. Indifferent,  and his heart dropped to his ass.

“Nice try, Marine.”

And he stepped to his feet, wobbling just slightly. But you were already moving out of his space, hands wringing as he watched your figure fall away to the long lively plants and trees surrounding both of you.

Hours of training with you and Neytiri in the village turned into months of trying again in between skills acquisitions.

You never broke, not once.

He wouldn't have it.

If Jake Sully was anything, it was not a quitter.

Your first official hunt was the biggest thing in your pathway to joining the Omaticaya people and you were to be ready by midday. The early chirps of wildlife roused you early after linking,  as you stepped from the avatar sleeping station, seeing Jake’s bed was empty. He must have stayed in the villages. And he did, as you saw him when you met the outskirts of the village. In the clearing there was a large group of would-be hunters, all marking themselves up with war paint. Your heart leapt at the sight, chest bubbling the excitement of it all. You rushed over, loincloth tangling in between your legs with your haste as you saw the rainbow of crushed dyes and pastes around the middle, perched on a fallen tree. You went to search for your signature colour, the deep colour that matched your ikran’s most vital colourings. Only to find it gone, its usual spot empty.

Heart sinking, you turned at the sound of Neytiri's laugh. “What, I look funny?” Jake called, one hand stained rusty orange red. His colour.

And the other… oh my god-.

Neytiri met your eyes, smiling harder than you have ever seen before. She knew the meaning. He didn’t. He couldn't have. She wouldn't have told him.

He was- OH MY GOD.

You didn't even remember rushing to them, eyes only locked on his full figure. His abs rippling and muscles strained as he aimed to reach behind his back, which was turned to you. Neytiri said something to the others with a kind hand to his shoulder. What she said you were not sure but they all filled out pretty quickly after it, looks ranging from mischief to alarm.  

Your heart raced as you watched this man. This beautiful stupid man smears the colour all over his face. Something deep within your gut pulled you forward, swooping hard enough to shock you all at the sight. Your hands stretched out as his ears twitched, a smile still on his face as he turned to you. All confusion in his eyes at the lack of people until he registered it was you. The smile swapped for his signature irritating smirk.

“That’s my colour.”

“Yeah. Gonna do something about it?”

Your stomach flipped, dipping low. A huff of air-all that was left in your lungs mixed with a shocked noise fell from your parted lips.

He was still smirking and you slid up to stand taller, shoulders back and head tilting-calculating. Beads in your hair clinking whispers in your twitching ears. Revelling in the flicker of his tail behind him. The shift in his eyes, from cocky to nervous, unsure.

“Yes, I think I will.” And you were fully beside him, close enough to feel his heat.

He was so large. So broad, it startled you every time. Your hands grabbed the wooden bowl filled with the crushed-up herbs and berries of your signature colour. His face dropped, going to take a step back, to backtrack as if he had offended you. As if you had rejected him, his last advance.

But your hands just dipped into the cool slush, smoothing it out with the warmth of your body between fingertips and saddling up to him.

Eywa, he was perfect. Heart beating like a drum against your rib cage, your nose delighting in his signature musky warm scent-like pine and military grade soap.

You placed your hands on his chest. The muscle firm beneath your hands, flexing under your touch. Your lips tilted up, smiling and smirking in tandem as he watched you. His lips parted, double sets of canines poking out.

You wanted to lick them with the tip of your tongue. Prick it against the sharp pearls and bleed, smoothing the taste of metal inside his mouth as you kissed him deeply, marking him. That thought was enough for your knees to grow weak, body pressing your weight into your hands. Your breasts pressed against your arms, forearms bare against his lithe sternum. Eyes met his as you slowly dragged your hands down.

A gasp left his lips, his yellow-green eyes nearly rolling back in his head as your thin fingers trailed down from the clear formed handprints against his pecs, sliding down to his abdomen, the paint drying as you went.

His body involuntarily shuddered as he reached to grab at you. The next thing he knew your wet right hand was wrapped gently around his throat. Windpipe secure in your grip. You held his adam's apple in your hand and you wished to feel it bob. You wished to see him fall to his knees.

Wanted to see him lean in and kiss you. But you knew enough to know that he had placed the reins very firmly in your hands.

So you gripped just slightly, core fluttering at the slick noise the wet paint made as it spread and at his accompanied gasp. The warm forest air against your face burns hotter with your blush as you squeeze just a little harder. Moving him back to have his back against a tree.

You had a picture in your mind of spitting in his mouth then, of tugging his mouth open with your thumb, kicking his legs apart as you made yourself in between them, making him bend further to you, watching his pink tongue loll out in wait for any part of you.

The deep throb at the idea was almost painful with its force and you grimaced. Jake’s subsequent chuckle at your expression had your heartbeat racing as you pressed yoru chet to his, his other hand trapped in between you.

He just smiled.

“You wear my colour well. But I rather see your skin bare. You hear me?” And he nods. Hard, fast and his adam’s apple rubs against your palm. Thankfully a handful of the back of his braid and a quick tug stopped his coming laugh as his lips met yours in a crash. Warm, wet, and beautiful as his lips moved in sync with yours. You led him to lean halfway down with your grip on his throat, on his queue. You possessed all of him now. In this moment and all those next.

He knew it and so did you.

With a harsh tug of his head to the right his neck stretched towards you and you licked a hot line up his throat to his jaw, kissing and nipping hard as you went. His knees nearly collapsed as he gripped the oak behind him, nails digging into the barc, his eyes squeezed closed.

Your lips were petal soft, tickling his ear as you leaned in. “You’re mine. Say it.”

You pulled back just slightly to meet his eyeline, his pupils blown wide and half lidded, in a  haze and only you could put him there. He was still trapped against you and the tree, his throat hot in your hand as he met your look.

“I’m yours.”

He was breathless, truly breathless and pathetic. And you loved him at this moment. Him  struck dumb at your words, and the way you handled him.

“I'm all yours, baby.”