#i should really get some elastic band

[posicmartinblackwood]

magnus' collar snapped 😔 ironically i was experimenting with a new method of making kandi collars with a yarn base, because i was worried about the thread i was using originally snapping. ill have to remake it tomorrow but until then he will have to be nakey for a bit

[kenyummy]

BEACH DAY ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?

note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!

TODAY

is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.

So, you were heading to the beach.

The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.

It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed. 

So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.

Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...

You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.

Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go. 

You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.

You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.

With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.

They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.

Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.

You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.

Too bad this peace would not last for too long.

Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.

You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.

A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.

Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.

"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"

He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."

It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."

Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"

"YOU—!!!"

Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...

"Hello, Isagi." 

Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."

He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"

He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"

He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.

Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids. 

And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.

Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio. 

Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).

"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."

"Get your eyes off my chest."

"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.

"You too, stupid crow."

"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."

You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."

"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"

He pauses. "Point taken."

Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around. 

Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.

You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).

"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."

You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."

Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be. 

"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."

Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.

Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.

"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."

Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."

He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"

You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."

He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."

"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."

He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."

"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."

You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."

He says, but you do not catch it.

Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"

The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"

His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."

Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."

"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"

You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."

He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."

"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."

You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"

You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.

Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.

Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.

Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).

You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children. 

You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.

You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]." 

You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.

"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."

Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."

He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."

You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."

The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.

You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.

You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment. 

It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."

The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"

Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?

Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"

You laugh. "I know."

The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.

Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.

"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"

You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.

He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek. 

You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.

You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.

Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back. 

You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."

You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."

Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.

You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.

Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.

Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"

You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."

"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"

You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."

The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"

Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."

You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"

He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."

"You sound like you care about that more than me."

"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."

You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"

He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."

You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.

Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.

You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.

"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.

"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"

Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"

The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"

He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.

You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."

Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.

Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"

Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.

You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"

Huh? Ready for what—!!!

You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness. 

You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.

Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.

You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.

You've never felt prouder of yourself.

You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.

His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.

"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."

You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.

Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.

You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"

He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."

Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.

He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.

His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."

He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.

His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.

His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.

The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two. 

It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.

You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.

Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.

The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.

Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.

Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.

"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."

When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.

He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.

Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.

Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.

The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."

He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"

He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.

Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?

© KENYUMMY 2024

[pochaccoups]

cw — a fluffy dad!cheol moment with his baby girl (ft. mom!reader)

“Appa, your hair is so long.”

Seungcheol’s daughter’s tiny fingers curl into the strands of his dark brown hair as he carries her from her bedroom to the bathroom. She’s right—it sweeps down the back of his neck, his bangs falling over his cheekbones. It’s the longest it’s been in years.

He sits her upon the counter facing the mirror and asks, “Yeah? Do you like it?” while batting his lashes. You’ve always told him he’s a princess raising a princess.

“I like it because it looks like mine!” she says, grabbing at her own hair. It doesn’t really, except maybe the colour, but she’s three and wants to look like her dad, so who is anyone to correct her?

He smiles fondly, his heart brimming with warmth as he grabs her toothbrush and hands it to her, squeezes a dot of toothpaste on it and watches her little hand make clumsy circles over her teeth. When she’s done, he rinses the sleep from her eyes and pats her delicate skin dry, and then it’s time to do her hair.

By now, Seungcheol has become an expert in hairstyling, probably more than even you are, having taken it on as one of his parental duties. He brushes it out, gathers half of it into one pigtail and secures it, then gathers the other half into another pigtail and secures it.

“What clips would you like, my love?” he asks, shaking the little box of her colourful hair clips.

“Uhhh, these!” she chirps, picking out a pair of pink ones with bunny faces on them.

His heart is doing spins and tumbles over his baby girl, and three years on he still can’t believe that something this cute is his creation. Although, he too can believe it because she’s also your creation. Still, every day he finds himself in awe that you had given him such a perfect little human. And she’s just sitting there, blinking at her reflection in the mirror as he slides the clips into the front of her hair and kisses the top of her head when he’s all done.

“So pretty,” he says, and he’s about to pick her up again until she makes a polite request.

“Appa, can I do your hair now?”

If she asked for the world, he would give it to her.

“Yes, baby, of course,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms. He grabs some of the storage boxes filled with hair bands and elastics, too. “Come on, we’ll go to the sitting room.”

Seungcheol places his daughter on the couch and settles himself on the floor in front of her so that she can reach his head. He’s not sure why he sits facing her, though it might be a subconscious inability to take his eyes off her, but she’s only three and she doesn’t question things too much, so she gets right to work.

Dainty fingers pull his fringe into one bunch at the top of his head and Seungcheol finds himself laughing already. He hands her an elastic and all she can really do is loosely loop his hair through it with intense concentration on her soft features that makes Seungcheol grin.

“Want me to tie it, my love?” he offers, reaching up when she nods to wrap it around his hair a few times. As he does that, she picks out a clip with a pink bow on it and slides it onto the front.

Her laughter bubbles through the room immediately, and Seungcheol’s chest flutters with affection.

“Appa, you look like Kkuma!” she exclaims, and he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket to open his camera, only to find that he, indeed, is a mirror image of his beloved Coton de Tulear. He snaps some selfies, makes sure to get his baby girl’s timid smile in them too.

“Should we go show mama?” he asks. She nods vigorously, so he plucks her into his arms, shuffling to the home office where you’ve been cooped up since 8 a.m. Bothering you is not an issue; you’d given him explicit permission to bother you unless you’re in a meeting, because otherwise your ‘job’ is you sitting there and playing mouse and keyboard.

Seungcheol lets his daughter be the one to knock on the door. In response, they hear a “yes?” in the form of your anticipatory voice. Seungcheol nudges the door open, heart warming at the sight of you in your comfiest attire, your hair pulled out of your face carelessly so that he can see every pretty feature that you graced your daughter with.

“Little princess did my hair,” he announces, pouting, winking, raising his eyebrows like he’s in a shoot. “What do you think?”

You can’t stop yourself from bursting into laughter immediately, nor can you stop yourself from leaving your chair and moving towards them so you can grab your husband’s cheeks.

“Oh, honey, you look so pretty,” you cry through giggles, watching as pink spreads over his cheeks. Affection boils inside you and you don’t resist the urge to kiss him, giving his lips a soft peck. “It suits you, appa.”

“I did it!” your baby squeals. She wants her credit, of course.

“Yes, you’re amazing, my love,” you gush, playing with the pigtails her father did. “Are you gonna do his hair like yours next?”

She gazes up at him with her big bug eyes, and you can only guess that she’s deciding that his current style is old news. “Yeah!”

“Alright then, go and do that and come back and show me, yeah?” you offer, smiling softly as she nods.

Seungcheol turns to leave, but before he can, you grab him by his shirt and bring your lips to his ear. “Don’t even think about cutting it, you hear me?”

He doesn’t have to say it for you to know when your husband has been contemplating a haircut. It’s a little longer, a little harder to manage, and you wonder how, after all the years you’ve spent gushing over his longer styles, he still hasn’t gotten it in his head to let it grow.

You free him, satisfied with image of (feigned) fear on his face. You catch him winking right before he closes the door.

[caxasy]

caleb and his prince treatment

caleb x male reader

spoiled (semi-yandere) ! caleb headcanons i have for him and male!reader :P more so modern!au, but can be read as if it were taking place in the canon universe

side note: i should really come up with a name for mc bc saying mc in the text and reading it over physically makes me cringe, hg needs a name T.T im just so uncreative i cant think of one UGH

side note x 2: per usual yandere-esque tendencies and thoughts coming from caleb, implied childhood best friends, i play my game in both chn and kor so thats why im kind of applying that in here hence the names and some vocabulary i used in here being more taken from my kor gaming experience

spoiled!caleb who hated being told no. he wasn’t used to that. and he will never settle with getting used to that. he thinks he’s selfless in a lot of ways (he really isn’t, hes deluding himself by telling himself he is — hes actually the exact opposite @ caleb hope that helps!!!), but he will be selfish with your time and attention (and everything else you have to offer...mans is greedy).

“you’re back!” caleb practically jumped off of his seat on the couch when the door of the house swung open. he immediately pocketed his phone, meeting you at the door and taking your backpack from your shoulders.

“classic butler caleb services,” you tease, watching as he threw your bag over his shoulder, “not too fast, though. you can just leave it by the door, i gotta change really quick,”

“hm?” caleb hummed, watching you take off your shoes and go upstairs, “uhm, are you going somewhere?”

“yeah!” you called out from your room and he heard the shuffling of drawers being opened and closed and your footsteps walking around the room. “caleb, have you seen my bracelet? i forgot to put it on this morning, could’ve sworn it was on my table!”

he looked down at his wrist, shaking his head to snap himself out of his confusion, and dropped your bag by the door as you instructed. he went upstairs, watching you from the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

“where are you going?” he almost began shifting anxiously where he stood, but had to physically stop himself. he also had to physically control his tone, not wanting to sound too bereft at you leaving again. you just came back from school! where were you going now?

“oh, just out with some friends,” you say, holding the bottom of your shirt up with your teeth as you zip up your jeans. caleb swallows harshly at the sight of your exposed abdomen. his head snaps up to meet your gaze when you drop the shirt from your mouth. “celebration from finishing off final season,”

“oh, but-”

“you have it on,” you smile, walking over and slipping your hand undernearth the elastic band of the beaded bracelet. your wrist resting on top of his, heavy and warm and enough to make his throat run dry. then, you pulled away with it now on you instead of him. “caleb, if you want your own, just ask mc, silly,” you tease, booping his nose and stepping past him.

“wait, uhm, you don’t want to stay in today? aren’t you tired from classes?” caleb asked, snapping out of his trance and going after you as you walked down the hallway.

“hmm, maybe tomorrow, caleb, i already made these plans last week. plus, i could use a couple drinks too,” you rub the back of your neck, looking bashful, “my upperclassmen wanted to treat me and they would be pretty upset if i backed out, soemthing stupid about how they have to treat me,”

caleb’s jaw clenched. you were relying on other people as a source of relaxation. he could just take you out to the bar himself, why did you need to go out with other people?

so what if they were your upperclassman? just because they’re older than him doesn’t mean he can’t provide that same treatment to you. you know that, right? caleb’s capable, so why did you rely on others for this stuff?

“anyway, tell mc that i can still drive her thing tomorrow, i don’t plan on drinking much so i won't be hungover or anything,” you reminded him, looking at the watch on your wrist, “annnnddd, don’t wait up for dinner. we’re going to an all you can eat, so i’ll be out till then!”

that meant you were gonna be gone for hours.

“are you sure you don’t wanna stay in? i heard it might start raining later today, bad weather might not be good to be out in late at night,” caleb reasons, following after your movement to the door, like a dejected puppy.

“it’ll be fine, i’ll bring the umbrella if anything,” you smile, stopping at the front door and tapping his cheek with your palm, “see you later, caleb! promise we’ll hang out tomorrow!”

before he could get a word in, one last shot in the dark of preventing you from leaving, the door was closed behind you.

he stood there, chest moving in controlled, slow movements. his fingers were twitched at his side before balling into a fist. he planned for you two to spend the night together, watching movies and tv until mc came home, then you’d eat dinner all together.

he sighed, pressing his closed fist to his mouth and trying to control himself.

“fucking pigs,” he cursed under his breath, going upstairs to your guys’ shared room and getting comfortable on your bed. he can't believe that not only he got told "no" to some shared time together, but you even chose to hang out with other people instead of him.

he laid there, breathing in your scent for a couple of seconds before begrudedly opening up the tracking app on his phone. he saw your icon and mc’s before clicking onto yours.

for the rest of the night, he stayed rotting in your bed hugging your pillow and watching your location from his screen. when you should’ve been by his side.

(the tracking app is like the find my app on iphones — so you and mc also have caleb’s location, a shared type of situation. not a stalker or anything LMAO [wouldn’t put it past caleb though…])

spoiled!caleb who doesn’t expect you to pamper anyone else the way you do to him. ever since you two were kids, you made sure to take care of him. it’s expected, even now that you guys are older. and of course, you don’t mind it. taking care of caleb and mc is a given to you, a responsibility that you don’t mind upholding.

but, since you’re so used to taking care of them, you unknowingly grew into the habit of taking care of everyone around you as well.

you, caleb, and mc were sitting at one of the outside tables on your guys’ campus. it was a nice day out so the three of you were lingering longer than you usually did after classes. mc was going on about an annoying group project that she had to do as her final. caleb was fully entertained by how animated she was talking about it while you were trying to comfort her, saying there were only a couple of more weeks of school left.

“hyung! is that you?” a cheerful voice was heard from behind you, making you instinctively turn your head. caleb and mc looked as well, curious to see if this person was actually talking to you or not.

a smiling man with platinum blonde hair walked up to the table, practically beaming at you.

“i haven’t seen you all semester, where have your classes been?” the smile on the unknown man’s face turned into an exaggerated pout, making you chuckle softly at the sight.

“it’s good to see you, jaemin,” the two of you are now smiling at each other and caleb feels his eye twitch. “oh, this is caleb and mc, caleb’s your age and mc is a bit younger,”

“nice to meet you two, i remember you guys from when hyung would talk about you,” the teasing comment was delivered along with a soft shoulder bump, making you roll your eyes, “it’s good to finally meet you, i’m jaemin,”

“nice to meet you, jaemin,” mc politely says, offering a kind smile. her eyes stray over to caleb, who practically looks in pain to smile at the boy his age.

“nice to meet you,” he says through his teeth, smile not meeting his eyes.

“we should hang out some time, hyung,” jaemin’s eyes sparkled as if he remembered something, “there’s a cute cafe that opened up near the library! i heard their pasteries are good!”

“sure, just text me and i’ll let you know when i’m free. it’ll be my treat,” you offer, open to hang out and reconnect with your underclassmen.

“how do you two know each other?” caleb asks, leaning in slightly closer to you as he spoke looking only at you.

“we had that research class together. remember when i kept having to stay late at the library in the fall?” jaemin turned sheepish at the reminder.

“yeah, that would definitely be me. i just kept needing help and hyung is such a good teacher,” you waved your hand as if dismissing the praise, but jaemin kept going, “he’s the only reason why i passed that class! if it weren’t for hyung, i definitely would have been done for!”

can this guy stop calling you that? it’s just like a searing reminder that there are other people in your life that are close enough to call you that. caleb hates that reminder. that you have a life that doesn’t revolve around him and mc, when you and mc are his entire world.

“no, you just needed some support, you did all the work,” you console, smiling so kindly at the man it makes caleb even more uncomfortable.

“whatever, you’re still too kind,” jaemin fanned his hand in front of his face, pinched eyebrows being seen under his bangs, “it’s so hot, how are you not sweating? how long have you three been out here?”

mc chuckled behind her hand at his behavior whilst caleb thought he was just being an annoying piece of shit he was being while overstaying his welcome.

“here, drink some,” without a second thought, you handed him your water bottle, which you had already drank out of. with that realization, caleb swore he felt his inside were boiling in annoyance and envy. why were you so selfless? he loves it about you…when it applies to him, but when he realizes that it’s not a completely special experience he receives from you, he feels bitter.

“you’re a lifesaver, thank you,” worst of all, the fucker actually took the water bottle from you and took a sip. uncaringly, he drank direct from the spout.

caleb’s fist clenched on the table as he realized what that meant. his self restraint was reaching its peak. for the rest of the time that jaemin was making small talk with you, which was a couple minutes longer, caleb was trying really hard to just calm himself down.

when jaemin finally left, caleb didn’t bother saying bye properly, internally hoping he would never see the man ever again. and most importantly, he'd leave you alone.

needless to say, the entire commute back home from university was you noticing the slight downtrodden mood of caleb and trying to make him feel better. you didn’t even know why his mood was more down and quiet, less charismatic than he usually was. but you didn’t ask, only offering extra attention to him to try and make him feel better.

it worked, obviously, since all caleb wanted was all your attention on him in the first place. but it did set as a good example for caleb to remember in the future...if he ever acts somewhat sad around you, you become more attentive to him. he had to fight the smile that almost made its way to his face.

spoiled!caleb who basically resource guards you. practically your walking guard dog. which is funny to think about since you are fully capable of protecting yourself in a face of “danger” and are more than capable in being able to take care of yourself and then some. but caleb is selfish and incredibly spoiled when it comes to you. which means, he’ll do anything to keep you as close as possible to him and only him.

spoiled!caleb who is trying hard to prove to you that he is capable of providing for you the way you do for him, but finds himself folding the moment you begin pampering him. his headstrong attitude in showing how grown he is, and he is grown, crumbles in confidence the moment you start using that familiar tone on him. the tone that shows how much you care for him, how casual it is for you to take care of him almost more than you care for yourself.

spoiled!caleb who, as mentioned before, dislikes anyone publicly showing how comfortable and familiar they are with you. whether it be in physical closeness, using terms such as oppa or hyung on you which show that close relationship you have with other - he hates it. to him, it’s almost ike it’s a competition. how can he prove to everyone around you that he’s the only man that you care about. how you hold him to a higher degree than others and that he loves that you do. he sounds cocky thinking that way, but if any ounce of a differnt impression is planted into his mind, he will go insane.

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

tangled

JJ Maybank x toddler!sister!reader

(REQUEST): thinking of baby sister maybank maybe being 1-2 and jj is really struggling with her hair, and he wants her hair out of her face but doesn’t know what to do. so sarah and kie step in

warning(s): N/A

a/n: thank you for the request, m'love. if i'm being honest i may rewrite this in the future because i have unfortunately had very little motivation to write this week. :( but even still i hope that you enjoy.

also, to everyone who has written me a request, i promise i'm working on them! they should all hopefully be finished by this week or the next.

“Ow!” Y/N squeaked, her plump digits failing to swat away JJ’s hands.

Her elder brother huffed, struggling to tame the toddler’s head of unruly curls. It was hard enough to pull all of the odds and ends of her hair into a ponytail far too small for his large fingers–let alone when she was intervening in the already troublesome process. 

“I know, I know,” JJ said, instinctively jutting out one of his hands to keep a wriggling Y/N from jumping out of his lap. He just barely managed to foil yet another one of her escape attempts. “You’ve just gotta sit still for a minute, peanut. Almost done.”

Y/N continued to whine, squinting against the harsh sun whilst JJ fiddled around with an elastic band in several failed attempts to create a functioning ponytail. The task only got harder as time trekked on—Y/N was antsy to join Kie and Sarah up at the bow of the HMS Pogue, and the more she tried to squirm her way to freedom, the worse JJ’s makeshift ponytails became.

“Jesus, dude. What the Hell are you doin’ to our mini Pogue, huh?” John B teased from the helm after several minutes of Y/N’s aggravated complaints, tonguing his cheek in amusement.

JJ had managed to get a good chunk of Y/N’s hair held sturdily away from her face, but several of her thick curls still fell like a veil over her large blue eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him, Jay. You’re a pro,” Pope laughed from behind him. JJ glared from behind the lenses of his shades.

“Ha-ha-fucking-ha. You ever tried to do this shit, man? It’s harder than it looks.”

The girls laughed as they caught a glimpse of JJ’s masterpiece. Y/N pouted, blonde curls spilling over her chubby face. “Need some help over there, Jay?” Kiara finally asked, taking pity on JJ who now wore a nearly identical pout to his baby sister. 

The boy sighed, running a hand through his own hair. “Please.” He scooped up his sister and carefully set her down on her unstable feet. “She’s all yours.”

Y/N, content with her newfound freedom, barrelled over to where her favourite Pogues had been sitting all afternoon: lounging around as they tanned and took swigs from their respective beers. Sarah laughed as the young girl fell onto her legs, wasting no time in sitting the little firecracker between herself and Kie.

“Wow,” Sarah said, observing the elder Maybank’s work up close. It was worse than she thought. “JJ really did a number on you, huh?”

“Jay bad at hair!” Y/N accused, brows furrowed in annoyance as she pointed a crude finger at her big brother. JJ rolled his eyes.

“Did better than you could've, peanut.” Y/N stuck out her tongue in response, and the girls chuckled as JJ reciprocated her gesture.

“Don’t worry, Y/N/N. We’ll take care of it,” Kie said, carefully undoing JJ’s handiwork without so much of a wince from the toddler. Sarah dipped into her bag to find a hairbrush and the few extra elastics she always kept on hand. “Gonna make you look so pretty, bub.”

“Promise?” The little girl beamed up at her, and Kie lightly pinched at her cheek.

“Promise.”

It took an embarrassingly short period of time for Kie and Sarah to get Y/N’s hair in order, brushing it into two braided pigtails on either side of her small head. The smile never left Y/N’s face as they worked, efficient and gentle in their process—the complete opposite to JJ’s hectic routine.

“Alrighty,” Sarah declared as she manoeuvred the final hairband, twisting the elastic a few extra times around the toddler’s braid to keep it in place. “You’re all done, Y/N!”

“I look pretty?” Y/N asked, eyes shining with anticipation. Kiara tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“The prettiest.”

Y/N wasted no time in toddling back over to where JJ was now busy talking to the other two boys, her cheeks dimpled with pride.  “Jay!” She cheered, bouncing with excitement. The blond looked down at her, a grin breaking out over his face as he caught sight of his baby sister’s new hairdo. “Pretty?”

JJ chuckled, lifting her back into his lap and pressing a sloppy kiss to her nose.

“Beautiful as ever, munchkin.” Y/N wrapped her small arms around his bronzed shoulders, and JJ gave another quick kiss to her temple. “What’d’ya say we get Kie and Sarah to do your hair all the time now, huh?”

He barely had enough time to complete his sentence as an empty beer can came flying at his shoulder, thrown by a now smirking Kiara.

“You wish, Maybank!”

[marvelingjules]

Would you care to tell us more about the large-pocketed skirts? 👀

I absolutely can.

They’re the @mayakern skirts. They are lovely and I get so many compliments whenever I wear any of them. I feel like the librarian version of Ms. Frizzle when I wear them. I recently got myself the stargayzing skirt and the monarchs one - I wore the latter for the first day of Summer Reading, and our library’s kickoff party, and got complimented many times.

(Today I wore the one with the big fern-y leaves, gives me jungle vibes. A patron said I should have worn it when Shedskin Reptiles is here for tomorrow’s program, but we did a Dino-craft today and it was the closest I had to that.)

(Oh man, maybe one day there will be a, like, fossils one.)

They’re long enough to wear to work, and completely cover the bike shorts I wear underneath for thick-thigh and bending-over comfort. They fit comfortably around my waist - though they changed manufacturers recently and thus the sizes are done differently, and one size I fit is just a little tight feeling by the end of the day (the elastic digs in more) and the other pulls down with even just my car keys in my pocket, let alone my phone (too loose for my preference.) I’m debating seeing if my mom can’t work some sewing-hemming style magic on that one.

The best part, besides the comfy skirts with pretty and fun designs, is the pockets. And when I say the pockets are large, I mean that they advertise them as able to fit a Nintendo switch and they are NOT JOKING.

I like to wear them when I go out to the orchestra or movies or to eat, and I don’t want to be dealing with a whole purse. I can fit my wallet, my phone, my inhaler, my keys, my sunglasses, and a travel size pill bottle of assorted meds into the two pockets and still have room to spare. Often you can’t even really tell I have things in said pockets unless the weight is pulling down the band of the skirt.

I even have one of their mini-skirts, because I wanted the aurora borealis pattern and it was out of the midi length, and the pockets are still large, and the skirt still covers well, and my bike shorts barely peek out of the hem.

The first one I ever got was the Bee skirt, which is back (my mom asked me to buy her one, so I did lol). The jellyfish are back too, which I also have.

They’re definitely a bit of a splurge for me, but I’d rather spend the money on a cute, comfy, well-made skirt by a small independent business than on things from the store that don’t fit well and I’m lucky to get pockets with and are medicorely made.

Anyway, if you love fun skirts with large pockets I highly suggest checking them out.

[rottenaero]

“Do you have any bands?”

Eddie glances at Steve, eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah? Probably not your taste in music but-“

Steve shakes his head, “No, not like,” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like rubber bands.”

The metalhead eyes him, “Uh, you of all people should know those are terrible for your hair.” He stated, but makes to grab one anyway.

“No dumbass, braces bands.”

It clicked.

“Oh.”

He stared at Steve, who had his brow furrowed, and who also apparently had braces. “I forgot to bring extras, didn’t know if you had some for Dustin, or, Jeff has braces right?”

“Yep, yeah,” Eddie says after getting over the initial shock, how had he not noticed? He stands and makes his way towards a desk drawer and opens it, before throwing a tiny package toward Steve who catches it with all the grace of an athlete.

Steve put the bands on quickly, and Eddie watches the whole process. As soon as he’s done, he’s met with a question.

“When did you get them?”

“Five months ago.”

“Five months-“ He sputters. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

“Eh,” Steve shrugs, and tosses the tiny package of elastic onto the nightstand. He leans against the wall, and Eddie sidles up to his side. “Maybe, no one else has asked me about it so I don’t know. Hey, what are yo-“

Eddie grabs his chin with one hand and uses the other to open the mouth. The elastics that hadn’t been swapped out were a mix of blue and black. Steve smacked lightly at his arm.

“Dude, can you ask?”

“No need to, I’m done.”

He backs up, and taps his knee. “Why’d you get them now?”

“My parents wanted to do it in middle-school, but then things got busy for them, and they didn’t want me to have them in high-school, so I just never got ‘em.”

“Till five months ago.”

“Till five months ago.” Steve agreed.

“Now all you need are some glasses and you’ll look like a proper little nerd.” Eddie jokes, leaning his head onto his palms. Steve stares at him blankly and he falters. “What?”

“I do have glasses.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t really wear them because they slide off my head super easily but I still have them.”

Steve in glasses steve in glasses steve in glasses steve in GLASSES.

“Are they uh-“

He balls on of his hands into a fist and coughs into it. “-You have them with you?” Steve leans forward, upper half off the bed to grab something from his bag and Eddie forces himself to watch as he unzips the bag, and not at the spot where his borrowed shirt rides up on his back.

He brings out two plastic cases, and flicks the larger one open.

Inside is a pair of slightly thicker framed square glasses, and he pulls them out, slides them onto his face and looks at Eddie.

The metalhead crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap. “You uh, look good man.”

“Thanks.” Almost as if on cue the pair shift on his nose and slide down a bit. The younger huffs.

Eddie reaches out and grabs them, putting them on his own face without much fight from Steve. He blinks. “Holy shit man, you’re blind. How do you live without these?”

“Contacts.” He states, opens the other case and starts poking at his eye.

“Ew.” Eddie slams his eyes shut. “Get something to keep the glasses on, thats nasty.”

“Hold on, I’m almost done then you can open your eyes.” After a second, he feels the frames lifting off his nose, and feels a pat on his back.

“There.”

He opens them, and stares.

Takes it all in. Not just the glasses like he had earlier, the cropped Deep Purple shirt he’d let him borrow, a sliver of the bat bites peeking out from the bottom. The shorts he was wearing were the ones that Eddie knew he use to wear to basketball practice.

Definitely not because he watched the practices, no, it’s because Steve told him. Obviously.

The socks he were wearing were tube socks, and what kind of monster wore long socks to bed?

Despite that, he grinned.

“What? What’s that look on your face?” Steve asked, brows furrowed and nose crinkled but there was a smile on his face. He could see the braces.

“You’re such a nerd.” Eddie states.

“You’re one to talk, freak.” It’s not said with malice, and Steve flicks his knee as he says it.

Eddie leans into his side, feels unexplainably warm. “That’s king of freaks to you, Harrington.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat, freak.”

[nikoniclove]

hope your vacation is going well :)

so happy to see the new updates! appreciate you getting something out despite being away

we haven’t gotten an update for the yours, mine, and ours in a little while. i was rereading the chapter of ace in emily’s sweatshirt and there’s some subtle references to ace in boxers..

was wondering if you could play more into that look? half asleep ace walking around the house in boxers or even just wearing them after a long day at work.

Just for you!

Emily’s Boxers

Ao3 link here

AN: NSFW, timeline set sometime after When Past Meets the Present but it really doesn’t matter (it’s just the reference to a house instead of an apartment)

“Fucking finally,” you groan loudly to the empty hallway as your key fits perfectly into the lock. The thump of the security giving way sounds magnificent.

Your day was endlessly tedious for no good reason. Delayed and rescheduled meetings kept shifting your run later and later until it just didn’t happen, and while running at 11:45 PM at night is something you’ve done more than a few times, today the weight of the day’s boredom and inconveniences might affect your reaction time. Instead you shed your clothes as you walk in the door. One boot at a time, not nicely placed together on the mat, but one flopped over onto its side. Then the next a few feet later. Your belt hangs over the back of a chair. Your jeans puddle to the floor wherever you are on the trek to the bedroom. The shirt is flung vaguely in the direction of the laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs.

The movements you make up the stairs could only be compared to clomping. Tired, trudging limbs complimenting a dull throbbing headache. Bra, underwear, and socks scatter every few steps. It’s second nature now. You beeline for Emily’s set of drawers, first finding a pair of her worn boxers. They’re black like almost everything else she owns, but the band is faded rainbow elastic from a Pride event years and years ago, well before you even knew what Pride was. With the amount Emily wears them (and the amount you steal them), you’re surprised they aren’t more threadbare.

The second item is more of a search. Her Yale sweatshirt… well, the Yale sweatshirt you prefer to steal… it’s also her favorite, no surprise there. Because she forever likes to poke fun and tease, she hides the sweatshirt every time she goes away on a case without you. Sometimes it’ll be folded in the laundry room. Other times, it’ll be tucked beneath your pillow. Once it was in the snack bin of the pantry as a clever reminder that you needed to eat. Today you find it with your guitar, the hoodie slotted over the case’s neck as if the leather was chilly in her absence. You roll your eyes at the silliness, even though no one is there to see it and you (not so) secretly love it.

Dressed in Emily’s boxers and sweatshirt, you belly flop onto the bed. The familiar scent and cushion surrounds you, and your lungs finally expel the last of the stale air from the tediously long day. There are things you should do — food, teeth brushing, and meds to name a few. You could plug in your phone, check in with your partners or even just slot yourself beneath the sheets.

Nope.

All of that sounds far too involved. Face first on the bed, with your legs hanging off the side. This seems like the only reasonable thing to do now that you have Emily’s clothes on. You miss them. Both of them. But you got to see JJ this morning before she left for a quick testimony somewhere in Rhode Island. Emily has been gone for eight days though. Her available communication has been limited thanks to cell service and sheer busyness.

Your phone is somewhere. Probably in your jeans wherever those ended up. You should check in with your people. Even just to send them an emoji of a bed and a skull if that’s all you can manage. But finding the phone feels daunting in a way that melting into the bed does not.

——

Emily curses a red streak and something very creative that would make the Roman nuns who taught her profusely cross themselves. A thin layer of dust and sand repels from her bag where it thumps to the floor. At first glance, Ace’s go-to combat boots are not in their usual spot. The further into the house Emily ventures, the more of her girlfriend’s clothes she finds. She knows exactly where the trail leads.

Sure enough, the young woman is asleep on top of the covers, curled slightly, nowhere near any of the pillows. Emily can’t help but smile. Sleep never comes easily, and the girl looks so content and calm, adorned in stolen clothes. Lust sets off throughout her body like fireflies in a summer evening sky. Bright flashes of desire that Emily won’t act on until tomorrow. (Or maybe that’s just later today given the 3 AM hour.) Ace or JJ in her clothes always flips the switch; it’d be stupid not to. She remembers explaining it in terms of her ‘caveman brain’ and the possessive way it makes her feel.

More than that though, there’s a peacefulness about finally being home, someone she loves here who cares where and how she is. That was never what the Embassy houses around the world felt like. Never home. Whenever teenage Emily returned, the only people waiting for her were people who were paid to. Her mother only cared where she was when it was necessary to display a certain kind of closeness to further a political ambition.

So this… coming home to a place that feels like hers, its walls bursting with memories of love and laughter, her partners waiting for her… it’s everything.

Eventually Emily removes her clothes, separating the pieces between laundry and dry cleaning. She cleans her face of make up and brushes her teeth. After she puts on her pajamas, murmuring under her breath about the thief who stole her clothes, Emily pulls back the sheets and manipulates her sleeping girlfriend under the covers where she’s supposed to be.

The young woman barely notices, and Emily smiles fondly at her, looping wild strands of hair back behind her ear. “C’mon, my love,” she murmurs softly. “It’s bedtime.” Subconsciously, Ace seeks out her safety. Emily adores how Ace mimics the shape of her side, cozying up instinctively. “It’s good to be home.”

——

Your body is warm. More than that, your cheek is warm. Hot even. From the smell and the way your body feels in the bed, you know you’re home. Your eyes flutter open, and you blink blearily a few times before recognition kicks in. Beneath your cheek, still fast asleep, Emily is home. Her chest, the heat source for your face.

Her hands settle on your hips though her eyes haven’t opened. You would have sworn she was asleep. “You’re squirming around,” Emily mumbles, voice heavy and slow. “Hmm, what has you so excited this early in the morning?”

“You’re home,” you respond, your volume keeping the low, soft tone that protects this sleepy shield around you both. “I missed you.”

“You thieved from me is what you did.”

“Borrowed,” you counter, easily falling into the usual rhythm of banter about her clothes on your body.

“Hmm, it does look good on you,” Emily agrees. Her eyes are still closed, giving away just how tired she is. “C’mere.” Using your hips, she drags you more firmly into the middle of her body. Her fingers search out skin, following a tried and true path over and under your stolen clothes. “It’s a shame both of us were too tired to act on it last night.”

“Seems like you still might be too tired,” you quip as your thigh presses intentionally between Emily’s legs, rolling your hips forward just so. “Do you want to sleep? Or do you want to take your clothes off me?” Emily’s throaty chuckle goes straight to your core. Her fingers bite into your sides. “If you open your eyes and I learn you’re hiding another concussion, I’m going to smack you myself,” you threaten.

That one startles a laugh out of her; Emily catches you off balance, a quick movement of her hips swaps your positions. You look up into a sea of beautifully dark eyes and swaying, sleep-mused black hair. “Still have questions, brat?”

“Always,” you retort, keeping your thigh firm between her legs. Tenderly, you brush through her hair before cradling her cheek. “I missed you,” you say again like a declaration of love caught in this soft morning moment before the rest of the world rushes in. Emily prefers actions to words, so she leans down to let the tip of her nose graze yours, slowly, slowly before she kisses you sweetly.

When you’re breathless and your heart pounds against the confines of your ribs, Emily pulls back with a quick wink that makes your insides tremble. Her silky camisole and short set ends up on the floor before she reaches in the nightstand for her preferred harness and strap. “Take my boxers off.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself,” you challenge. “You keep insisting they’re yours after all.”

“We do not have nearly enough time before work for me to brat tame you. Don’t test me,” she growls, the sultry register like music to your ears. “Boxers off.” The thin black fabric adds to the growing pile on the floor near the bed. Emily leans back against the headboard, situating a few pillows to support herself. You know what she wants, so instead of straddling her like the good girl you’re supposed to be, you lean down to lick up the underside of the shaft. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Emily groans, her head thumping back briefly, as she processes the visual and feels her body respond in kind. The cool silicone is familiar now, in your mouth and elsewhere. Relaxing your jaw, you take her cock in until its tip bumps the back of your throat. The breathy sound she expels might be enough to convince you that Emily can really feel every swipe of your tongue or hollow of your cheeks.

When you gag once, then twice, Emily grabs for you, directing you to kneel over her hips. The silicone toy, now plenty wet, nudges your inner thigh. Always conscious of your readiness, her fingers part your folds. “Green,” you consent.

“Not yet.”

“Emily,” you grumble. She wants you wetter before she stretches your pussy. You don’t give a damn, but you know you won’t win this battle. Her thumb swipes tight circles around your clit. With her free hand, she tugs the zipper free on the hoodie, the two sides revealing your bare breasts and torso to her hungry gaze. “Fuck… Em. Just let me ride your cock.”

“Not yet,” she repeats, even as her voice gives away her intense desire. “Wait.” The slight dominance weaves its way into every interaction somehow, some way. Maybe it’s the way she grabs your chin and forces eye contact. Maybe it’s the commanding grip on your hips. Maybe it’s a simple instruction that from anyone else could be innocent. Between you, the underlying relationship of those traditional roles simmers to the surface, even in moments like these where a scene isn’t the intention.

Your thighs tremble before Emily gives in. “Say it again for me, love.”

“You made me wait,” you counter while you try to take matters into your own hands. “So maybe I don’t want to say it again.” Dark eyebrows arch in a challenge, her fingers delivering a quick pinch to your clit. “Fuck!” Her thumb soothes the sensitive nub while she waits somewhat patiently. “God, you’re such a bitch,” you whine.

“Mmm, careful, love. You’re starting to sound like our favorite blonde. She loves to remind me how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

Thirty seconds, maybe a minute if you’re generous with the estimate - that’s how long you hold out before bumbling through the phrase again. “I want to ride your cock, Em.”

“There’s my good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wrapping her fist around the toy, Emily rubs its silicone tip along the length of your slit. “Can’t say the same for this though.”

On the top, you can control the speed you take her toy, and you’re more than ready, have been well before she insisted on more teasing. The stretch feels wonderfully familiar. You ignore her joke in favor of feeling every inch of her cock. “Fuck,” Emily moans, one hand tight on your hip while the other traces a reverent path between the open halves of her sweatshirt, still draped over your shoulders. Part of the fabric covers one of your breasts, so she shifts it out of the way, her thumb damp with your slick rubs your nipple. When you take it off, Emily stops you. “Leave it on. I love seeing it on you. You know why?” Hips rolling, hands braced on her ribs, you shudder. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp.

Her praise arrives in a hum and the tightening of her grip on your hips, dictating your movement. Your pussy flutters around her toy cock. “Not yet, love,” Emily insists for the third time since you woke up on top of her.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” you groan, a delicious blend of frustration and pleasure. With Emily, those go together more often than not. She moves one of your hands to her breast, a wordless instruction.

Treading the edge carefully, you go straight for the moves that make a mess of her — nails scratching over the tender skin of her breasts, her nipples caught between your fingers for a sharp pull or twist, barely there grazes along the underside that make her shiver. “Keep… fuck… keep doing that.” Her pale chest flushes, swatches of skin turning pink with desire. Black hair splays out across the pillow.

“Emily… Emily, fuck,” you moan as a warning. Her gaze is heavy, palpable, as she takes in every detail of your body on top of her — pussy dripping onto her cock, stomach muscles tense, breasts swaying, and her fucking sweatshirt rustling with each movement. “Oh… right there… oh shit,” you mumble, your spine curling as your body clenches in the split second before your release washes over you. Her quiet groan of completion makes you moan again. You tremble through the residual effects, her cock still fully buried in your pussy. “You could have woken me up for that.”

She chuckles, thumbs brushing over your hip bones slowly. “You were asleep, curled at the foot of the bed on top of the covers like a cat,” Emily quips fondly.

“You like both kinds of pussy. I don’t see the problem.”

Emily barks out a laugh at your response, helping you off before hugging you tightly. “Fuck, I always miss you so much,” she whispers into your hair. “Even if you steal my clothes.”

“You love it.”

“Mmm, and I love you,” Emily agrees. Her muscles tense as she notes the clock for the first time. “And we’ve got to hustle because we are going to be very late for work.”

“Slow mornings for you,” you tease as you clamor off the bed. Even with the rush, you’re elated to have her home, but she’ll have to pry her sweatshirt and boxers from your cold, dead fingers if she wants them back.

[dulcecherub]

The Haunting

“Sofia…” he whispered, “Sofia.”

“Sofia!”

“Rafe!” Kiara shook him awake, he shoots up in the bed. Her tall form standing in front of him. Her eyes squinted. “Can you shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Rafe glares up at her through hazy sleepy eyes. He hates he’d been awaken, the only times he sees Sofia nowadays are through his dreams. The only time he can ask for advice.

“Yeah, you were being really loud.” Sarah’s raspy sleep voice cuts through. Rafe wants to roll his eyes, tell them to go to hell and go back to sleep. To find her again. But he promised he wouldn’t be a dick.

“My bad, sorry I can’t—forget it. I’m sorry.” He pushes his face back into his pillow. A lump more like.

“God.” Kiara mumbles to herself, she heads back to her bed. Next to Cleo and Pope.

But Rafe’s mind won’t let him sleep anymore.

“You really should let them sleep. You can’t keep dreaming about me, ya know.” Sofias voice wafts back into the space. Only he can hear her, he wonders if he’s back to sleep or this is a hallucination. Coke redraws.

“Sof, please—”

“Sofia.”

“Sofia.” He looks at her, unsure if she’s real. He nearly wants to reach over and test it. But a part of him worries she’ll disappear into nothing.

He’d always asks her why she did it. And it was always the reason why she would disappear.

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sorry. You deserve everything you get.”

He clears the lump in his throat.

“I know.” He isn’t sure which part he’s answering. But to him it’s all the same. “I know.”

“Good.” He looks up at her, tears filming his eyes. He wants to reach over so bad, it feels like an elastic band ready to snap. — She looks so goddamn mean. Nothing like his Sofia. Nothing in the same vain.

“You don’t have to keep tormenting me. It’s not fair. You’re the one who betrayed me.”

“Oh yeah?”

Rafe is unsure how to respond, he just eyes the woman he loves. No matter how much he’s hurt, the love he has for her doesn’t seep away. No matter how much he wants.

“Yeah, you’re—”

He doesn’t remember, but all he remembers is the last look of her hurt face. Before he’s awaken by Sarah once again. The Lisbon heat has his sleep sweat beat.

“You stink, go shower.” Sarah says, her nose scrunched up.

“Says you.” Rafe gets up, turning to see the spot he’d seen Sofia. She’s gone. A dream.

All he wants to do is understand. But he’ll settle for this. No matter how brief.

[skribbledarker]

hey guys back at it again w another zosan hand/ oral fixation fic update bc thats the ONLY thing im writing rn and i need to post cause i lowk forgot about this blog ok here u go!!11!1

CW FOR SMUT GUYS

—

“Humor me. Come on.”

“You get off on telling me what to do?”

“I do, yeah.” And for some godforsaken reason, Zoro relents, putting his arms behind him while Sanji’s fingers trace over the planes of his stomach, edging past the elastic of his sweatpants. “Good,” the cook whispers quietly to him. The praise makes Zoro lightheaded.

Sanji grasps him in one hand, stroking lightly— the pressure isn’t nearly enough, not when Zoro is so hard it fucking hurts. He struggles to keep his hips in place, swallowing dryly as Sanji ghosts a thumb over his slit. The cook is mumbling something inaudible, words low enough that Zoro can’t hear, but his voice is smooth like honey, coating Zoro’s insides and making him crave the contact even more. “Fuck, stop talking.”

“I dunno, I think you like it.” Sanji speaks with his lips pressed to the shell of Zoro’s ear. Belatedly, he feels his sweatpants sliding down, Sanji’s finger hooking around the band and pulling them down just enough, working his cock so agonizingly slowly that Zoro is torn between cursing the cook out or just flat-out begging. He’s leaning towards the first option.

Zoro flexes his hands where they rest behind his back, gaze still pointed at the ceiling as he gives in and rolls his hips to match the pace Sanji sets. “You’re so annoying.”

Sanji doesn’t respond, pausing his ministrations to shift around on Zoro’s lap. Briefly, Zoro wonders what the fuck he’s planning now, because this entire time, the cook has really just been toying with him. Not that Zoro doesn’t like it— he does. A lot. There's something about the way Sanji gently coaxes the control away from him, with sweet words and just enough force to make Zoro simply let him do so. The dynamic should feel foreign, because the swordsman always gives Sanji just as much as he fucking gets, but it’s strangely familiar. Sanji’s hands roaming over his body feel the same as they do when he plants a palm between Zoro’s shoulder blades, pushing him down into a bow when he doesn't say thank you loud enough; always landing on just the right side of demanding.

Zoro feels more than hears Sanji gasp, the short sound accompanied by the cook’s thighs spasming again. When he looks down, Sanji is already staring at him, lips curling around a moan as he touches the leaking tip of his cock to the swordsman’s own.

“Shit,” Sanji groans, eyes roving down to where his hand is wrapped around both of them. He thrusts shallowly into the pocket he’s created and the friction feels so fucking good, waves of pleasure shooting up Zoro’s spine and making the muscles in his stomach tense up. There’s precum dribbling from Zoro’s cock, pulsing out of him and sliding slowly over Sanji’s knuckles; he watches, transfixed, as it travels down the back of the cook’s hand.

“Zoro.”

“Mm?” Zoro vaguely registers he’s being talked to, and it takes more effort than it probably should to drag his eyes up to Sanji’s face. The cook keeps one hand pumping them both, while his other slides from the back of the couch up to Zoro’s face; As it does, his thumb brushes over Zoro’s earrings, making them clink quietly against each other.

Two fingers graze Zoro’s bottom lip. “Open.”

Zoro obliges, letting Sanji’s middle and ring finger past his lips, letting them slide gently over his tongue. The cook tastes clean, like soap and salt and a little sweet from the fruit he cored earlier.

Sanji lets out a near-silent breath as he explores Zoro’s mouth, careful as he dips his fingers in past the first knuckle; His face has gone slack, the smug air from a few minutes ago all but gone as Zoro lets his tongue lave over the digits, coating them in the spit that threatens to spill over his lips. Sanji reaches further, the pads of his fingers pressing down into the back of Zoro’s mouth while he watches the swordsman simply take them—The thing is, though, Zoro doesn’t need him to be gentle. Sanji seems to realize this only when his fingers brush the back of Zoro's throat.

“Holy fuck, moss,” Sanji almost whines, his eyes widening as Zoro dips his head down to take him to the last knuckle. The hand around both of their cocks abruptly tightens, and Zoro moans around the fingers in his mouth. The cook’s next words come out rushed and breathless, “Where’s your f— where’s your gag reflex?”

—

yeah idk what im doing ive been procrastinating this fic for CENTURIES cause i feel like all the smut i write is so awkward but whatever. uhh you can find the other sections of this fic if you scroll for like 2 seconds on my blog! okay hopw you enjoyed bye

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day twenty six: voyeurism

pairing: gaz x reader

word count: 585

notes: happy day twenty six! currently patch testing halloween makeup as i work on this so i legit look like a clown but hey, it's fun i love this time of year

he knew snooping in your room was wrong, really he did. but he needed ideas for a gift for you. your birthday was coming, and he had exactly zero ideas on what to get you. so, what better way to figure it out then to take a look in your room, and see some of your interests? in doing so, he discovered your favorite band, a series of books you were reading, and that you had a collection of themed mugs. from that alone, he could easily come up with a few ideas. maybe the next book in the series, a brand new novelty mug, and perhaps a vinyl for your record player. 

with these new ideas in mind, he was about to slip out of your room, but he heard you coming back in, the jingling of your keys startling him. he panicked, knowing what it would look like if you saw him coming strolling out of your room. so, he did what his mind told him was the next and most logical thing: he hid in your closet. was it smart? no. but did he feel like he had a choice? also no.

he was dead silent as you came into your bedroom, listening as you tossed your bag and keys down and flopped onto your bed, looking downright exhausted. but to gaz, you still looked like the most gorgeous person in the world. but what came next … he wasn’t expecting.

he watched as you shifted onto your side and reached into your bedside table drawer, removing a small bullet vibrator and shutting the drawer. it came to life in your hand, and you pulled your pants down your legs, then off of them, and tossed them aside. simply clad in your underwear, you pressed it to your folds over your underwear, letting out a sigh as the toy vibrated against you. 

gaz watched through the slits in the closet door, watching as your legs bent and your hips rolled. he saw your eyes flutter shut and your lips part, soft sighs leaving them every time you ran the vibrator over your soaked panties. then, you moved the toy under the elastic of your underwear, gasping as the toy came into contact with your clit.

he could feel himself strain against his jeans, and he had to keep himself quiet. he’d never seen such an obscene display from you, and he knew he should have looked away. but christ, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of your body. he watched your hips pull off the bed, he saw your toes curl, and that sharp gasp that left your lips as your orgasm rocked your body. he hadn’t realized how much time had passed, how pent up you’d been, or how badly you needed that. he just knew how badly he needed to relieve himself after that little show. part of him felt guilty for watching, but truly, he had no choice, right?

he was still silent, watching as you laid there for a moment, your chest heaving as you came down. the buzzing stopped, and he watched you put the toy back in its hiding spot. then, he saw you get up and leave, heading into the bathroom to freshen up. and that was his chance to escape. he slipped out of your closet and went into the hall, then into his room. he had a problem of his own he needed to take care of.

and he had gifts to order.

[esamastation]

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 6 [<<Prologue | <Chapter 5 || Chapter 7>>] Ao3 link

-

Tutorial in Age of Tales goes like this:

The main character is woken up by Janelle, who calls him a sleepy head and tells him to get the cart ready, because her daddy wants to go to town. The game teaches the player how to move, climb, jump, and interact with objects there.

The main character drives the cart to Westbrook in a cutscene and gets a chance to explore the town for a moment before Mr. Gylcross concludes his business. It's implied that it's a rare visit for the main character, and he's still new to town. He's given only enough money to buy a few health items maybe, just enough to learn how to interact with shops.

The main character returns to the farm with Mr. Gylcross and there's a time skip to the next day where, after they're done with their various farm-related duties, Josel approaches the main character and says…

"Hey, Van - there's some rabbits in the field again. Do you think you could take care of them?" 

Which then teaches the main character the very basics of combat, specifically long ranged combat, seeing as the beginner weapon for the main character of Age of Tales is a sling. In the game, there's auto aim you can turn on, which helps with long ranged weapons, but they were never a particularly well designed part of the game.

In this sort of real live version of the game…

"How the hell are you supposed to use this damn thing," Van mutters, trying to fit a pebble in the sling and figure out how to spin it in a way that didn't send the rock flying off prematurely.

Unfortunately it's not one of those slingshots with a y-shaped piece of wood and elastic band, no, this is the much older kind with a woven cord and a small pouch in the middle where you put the rock and then spin it around before releasing. Which is, it turns out, pretty tricky to master.

Katie had kind of loved the sling thing, though. It was very historical, she felt. Traditional weapon of commoners. Very cool that they included it in the game. You could even do some real damage with magical ammunition, though it was never as good as just specialising in magic, or even being a ranger. Still, with auto aim it was a cool beginner weapon for ranged combat, and considering that the early fights were all about running away…

It never made much sense for the main character to have it, though, because Van wasn't actually a commoner.

Van tries to spin the sling, and the stone slips out of the nest, landing in front of him with a thud. He grunts, frustrated. "System can't you help me out here? There's the automated chore thing - why isn't this automated? I should know how to do this, right?"

The System opens up his character window, which is not very helpful.

[Farmboy] [Van] [Lvl. 3 Commoner]

[Status:] [Constitution: 10] [Strength: 10] [Dexterity: 1] [Intelligence: 1] [Wisdom: 10] [Charisma: 1] [Luck: 1] [You have 4 unused Stat Points.] [You have 2 unused Skill Point]

"That's not very helpful - wait," Van says and peers at the list of stats. Intelligence is highlighted. "Huh - I need intelligence to figure out how to use a sling? Wait, wait, wait," he pauses, coiling up the sling. "Say I wanted to become a… rogue. I want to sneak around and assassinate my enemies. What would I…?"

The status screen shifts, and it's dexterity that gets highlighted this time. "Huh," Van says again. "Okay, that's actually really good to know." It's nothing he didn't already know - he had played as a rogue before, but still. It's neat that the System is giving him this kind of info. "I didn't need intelligence to use a sling in the game, though. Also, why are chores automated but this isn't? It makes way more sense for me to know how to fight, doesn't it?"

System just highlights intelligence again.

Van really doesn't want to spend any stat points yet, not before he decides what class he's going for - also, who knows what will happen in Westbrook. He might need a sudden burst of charisma to persuade the bad guys not to kill him, or dexterity to avoid being skewered, or any number of things. Intelligence is only good for Wizards, and Katie did not enjoy Wizard build all that much. It was too slow, and the combat didn't quite have the oomph of getting up close and personal with a big sword.

Shaking his head, Van closes the System window and continues working on the sling. He does figure out how to get the stone to stay in the sling, but trying to get it to fly even to the right cardinal direction…

Hm. Maybe he could put one point in intelligence? Just to see what it would do?

… No, he will not be tempted. He'll save the points until he needs them.

At any rate, the rabbits have been dealt with - he might've not hit any of them, but he definitely made enough of a racket to scare them off. Shaking his head, Van puts the sling away, his ammunition pouch five pebbles lighter. Whatever. He's got more important things to figure out right now, anyway.

Like how to make a spear.

-

The tutorial goes on to then try and deepen the main character's relationship with Josel and Janelle - giving the player a chance to eavesdrop on them during a cute moment. Van gets that opportunity too.

While he's doing a little bit of gathering in a copse of trees, figuring out how to get a Wooden Pole as opposed to mere Branches he's been finding, Van happens to spot Josel, picking up flowers out in the meadow just beyond the forest's edge. And then Janelle just so happens to come across Josel, greeting him cheerfully with, "Hey there, Josel - what are you up to?"

"Well, uh, I just, um," Josel stammers, looking between her and the sorry bunch of flowers he's holding. Then he tries to, comically, hide them behind himself, as though they haven't been fully on display already. "It's - it's nothing!"

"Oh?" Janelle asks, instantly mischievous, and skips forward. "It's nothing, is it? What's that behind your back, Josel, what have you got there? Hmm?"

Josel squirms and backs away while she tries to sneak a peek past him and it's very cute until he finally gives up. "It's stupid, I didn't -" he says and then holds the flowers to her. "For you, Miss."

"Oh, for me? Why, thank you, Josel!" Janelle says cheerfully, accepting the flowers with a little bow. "You are most kind, sir. You didn't have to."

"I thought it would - that it would brighten your day," Josel says, flushed bright red all the way down his neck and wringing his hands with embarrassment. "It's nothing, just a bunch of flowers."

"Well, I think it's very sweet," Janelle answers warmly, hugging the flowers and then grinning. "Say, have you ever made a flower crown?"

It's almost unbearably saccharine, the whole thing, but Van can't help but watch, leaning onto a tree trunk and grinning fondly as Janelle gently bullies Josel into learning how to weave flower crowns, before plopping the one she made on Josel's head. The whole thing is so blatantly wholesome that the first time Katie saw the scene, she'd shouted out loud, "Oh, they're definitely going to die!"

Van is half impressed that the developers refrained from including promises about the future and how they'd make flower crowns for each other until the end of their days. Or reminisce about their past as childhood friends, or something. Honestly, Janelle and Josel didn't really have much of a background beyond their roles as cannon fodder for the plot.

Still, it is pretty cute.

Janelle finishes the flower crown Josel can't figure out how to tie properly and puts it on her head, smiling. "There, now we match," she says with satisfaction, making herself comfortable amidst the flowers. "It's been ages since I did something like this."

"You're very good at it," Josel says earnestly.

Janelle laughs, hugging her knees. "Thanks! I used to make wreaths for the Flower Festival, you know - I won the first Prize and everything!" she says and then her smile fades. "We haven't really gone since Momma died. I thought maybe next spring would be different. With you and Van here, Daddy is in much better spirits these days."

"I'm glad we've been able to help," Josel says, adjusting his crown. "If there's anything else I can do to help out, you just let me know."

"Thanks," Janelle says with a chuckle and then looks at him. "Van's not going to stay until the Flower Festival, though, is he? I don't think he's even going to stay over winter."

In the shadows of the trees, Van folds his arms, interested.

"What makes you think that?" Josel asks. "Did he say something?"

"Not really. He's just acting a bit weird, isn't he? Like he's waiting for something," Janelle says and sighs. "I think he's remembering stuff from before."

"He hasn't said anything to me," Josel says, frowning.

"Me neither, but he's all… I don't know," Janelle sighs and looks away. "I just think he's getting ready to leave. It's funny, he's not even been here for that long, but I was kind of hoping he'd stay longer. Daddy's been a lot more active since he appeared, you know? Like with more people around, he has a purpose again."

"Yeah. Mr. Gylcross has seemed more energetic."

"Yeah," Janelle says with a sigh.

Josel looks at her like he's not sure what to do or say. For a moment it looks like he might put an arm around her, before awkwardly refraining. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," the farmhand promises earnestly. "Even if Van leaves, I'll always be here, ready to help you out."

Janelle laughs. "I know I can count on you, Josel," she says and rocks back and forth before rolling up to her feet. "Come on, let's head back - you can help me catch a chicken for dinner."

Van watches them leave, leaning his head against the tree trunk and frowning. He still doesn't feel any particular attachment to these people - it's hard to, really, after Katie had watched them die over and over again in the exact same way. Even the most sympathetic NPCs stop looking like people when you can see their strings being pulled. Even so…

It would be nice if he could save them this time.

Glancing up at the sky, Van tries to gauge how long he has until sundown. Then, shaking his head, he heads back into the forest, to find poles for his spearheads.

He got maybe three hours until the Rift would open and no proper weapon yet.

He really needs to get a move on.

-

And then, the Rift.

In the tutorial, it's not expected of the main character to have a proper weapon when the Rift opens. That's why the farm is littered with low grade farming tools - though they barely had any attack power, they could be used as weapons in a pinch, usually to comedic effect. The whole point of the Rift is to mess up the farm, kill everyone there - except the main character - and send the main character running to town.

Most of that happens in cutscenes, of course. There was no way to stop the Rift from appearing, or close it once it had, and there wasn't meant to be a way to stop the demons coming through, either. You could kill a few of them, maybe, but they kept coming and coming in an endless, steady flood. The whole thing was meant to be a hopeless fight.

Of course, no good set piece survives contact with players, and it took less than a day after Age of Tales launched for people to turn the traumatic Rift event into a mob farm.

For a Gylcross Mob Farm you need at minimum two things, plus a weapon to kill the mobs with. You need one of the carts, parked in a specific location before the Rift opened, and a barrel, set down just a little to the right of it. Because the rift opens right next to the barn, the demons coming through can move only in three directions, and the cart and barrel block two of those, creating a bottleneck. If you do it right, the arrangement cuts down the number of enemies you have to fight to a single one at a time.

And the Rift never stops spewing enemies at you. So, in effect, you can just stand there, for hours, for days, killing imp after imp after imp, just collecting exp. Add to this some better gear and those sweet, sweet Draughts of Memory… and it takes you approximately eight hours and fifty four minutes to boost the player character up to level 100.

Van might not have those potions - but he still intends to take advantage of the Rift's mechanics as much as he can. Without the Draughts it would take literal days to reach the same effect - but right now, he'll settle for ten, twenty levels at least. Just something to get him started properly.

Assuming, of course, that the Rift worked the way it did in the game. If not, well, it still wouldn't hurt to prepare.

"Uh, Van - what are you doing?" Josel asks, watching Van push the cart into place.

"I'm going to clean up the barn. Getting the place set up for the harvest, you know," Van answers, huffing while turning the cart around, aiming to get it just below the window. "Just… getting this… out of the way."

Josel looks at him, at the cart, at the barn, and then scratches at his cheek. "… Okay, you need a hand with that?"

"Sure - grab that barrel in the back, will you?" Van says and then thinks better of it. It wouldn't hurt to over prepare. The game mechanics haven't exactly been on his side so far. "Actually, let's move the other cart first."

In the game once you're done with fighting the Rift, however long you take, the player character escapes in one of the carts that's, mysteriously, ready to go with Bell strapped in and everything. It's very dramatic and convenient, and Katie could even forgive the plothole there - here… here Van doesn't think he can trust the plot holes to be on his side.

Better get the cart in place for easy access.

Josel gives him a weird look at the very precise way Van wants to position the cart once outside, conveniently close to the stables and nowhere near the barricade. The other farmhand says nothing, though, confusedly helping him situate the cart just so that Bell could be easily strapped on in a hurry. Van makes sure all the necessary straps and such go in the cart as well.

The barrels and boxes and other things from inside go to and around the first cart, with Van carefully situating them around to box in the spot where the Rift would be, enclosing the space as much as he can.

By the barn doors, Josel pauses. "Did you make these?" he asks, taking one of the spears Van has lined up against the wall.

The shafts Van had made for them are pretty rough - they're basically just trunks of young oak trees, which had been the only things to register as Wooden Poles to the System. Cleaning them and attaching the spearheads to them had taken some effort, and Van can't say he's particularly confident about his woodcraft skills - but after he'd sharpened the spearheads, the System had approved his craftsmanship by re-designating them as Rough Spear, lvl. 2s, each with 15 Attack power, so Van's satisfied with them. The enemies he's about to face are only lvl. 1, and with his strength stat lvl. 2 weapons would be more than enough to handle them.

"Yeah - just leave them there," Van says, hauling another barrel in place and testing its stability. Yeah, that wouldn't go anywhere. "I'll deal with them."

Josel gives him a rather concerned look but leaves the spear where it is. He goes to pick up the barrel lids sitting in a stack beside the spears instead, but Van tells him to leave them, too.

"I'll need them for something later," Van says, inspecting his Rift barricade, trying to fill in the gaps

"... Okay," Josel says slowly and then shakes his head. "I guess I'll get a broom and start sweeping then…"

Van lets him do it and finishes up his barricade, leaving just the one opening for the imps to get through - the one he'd be covering with a spear. With his mob farm ready, Van brushes his hands together and then heads inside to join Josel in "cleaning".

Another hour or so until sundown, and his preparations are just about ready. Now he just needs to wait.

-

"Van? Van, my boy, are you in here?"

Van, who's sitting on the hayloft just in case he needs to be in a specific position to trigger the Rift, peers down. It's his boss, peeking into the empty barn. "Yes, Mr. Gylcross?"

The farmer looks around the empty barn and then outside at the Rift barricade. "Would you like to explain what's going on here?" he asks, baffled.

Van goes down the ladder. "I just thought of doing a bit of cleaning," he says. "Before the harvest, I mean. I, uh," what would be a good explanation, "I heard some mice or something the other night, and I thought we should close up all the holes before bringing the harvest in. I'll put everything back tomorrow, I promise." Nailed it.

"Mice, hmm? I see," the farmer says, anxiously twiddling with his moustache. "And the - the spears?" he asks worriedly. "What's that about?"

Van looks at the spears and the various barrel and pot lids he'd gathered to serve as shields. "Uh," he says. "A new hobby?"

The farmer looks at him, looking very concerned indeed. "My boy, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Van assures him. "I'm just trying new things, that's all."

"I know about your visit to the tailor - Ms. Arbury sought me out," Mr. Gylcross says slowly. "As I understand you ordered something quite expensive, and she was a tad concerned. Where did you get all that silver from, Van?"

"Uh," Van says. Well that explains how and why Mr. Gylcross knew about the gambeson. "From the inn?"

"Van, surely you didn't just… take it?" Mr. Gylcross says, anxious.

"No, no, nothing like it - I gambled," Van says quickly. "And taught a gambler a trick about how to play Echo better - she paid fifty silver for it."

Mr. Gylcross doesn't look quite convinced, eyeing him with grave concern before turning to look at the spears again. "And - and then spears?" he asks. "What do you need spears and a gambeson for?"

Having no better explanation to give, Van tells him what he told Janelle. "It just… feels like I need them?" he says awkwardly. Hooray for amnesia as a convenient excuse for weird behaviour. "I can't really explain. It's just a… feeling."

That doesn't seem to quite soothe the farmer's mind, though his look of worry turns into something more serious. "You know you can always come to me if you have concerns, right?" the man says earnestly. "If you remember something, if you have issues. I know waking up here the way you did was quite traumatic."

"Um, yeah," Van says, awkward. "Thank you, Mr, Gylcross. I'm grateful that you, um, took me in," he adds, which feels like something the character would say, had this conversation been in the game.

"You looked quite rough, when Janelle found you - like you'd been in a fight," Mr. Gylcross says sadly, shaking his head. "Have you remembered what happened?"

No, though Van knows about it from the game. The player character had been hit over the head with a hammer while trying to escape assassins. Very creative of the developers. "No, I haven't. Sorry, Mr. Gylcross."

"That's quite alright," the farmer says and looks at the spears. "I didn't really expect you to remember much, not after all this time - though it looks like something's getting through anyway," he mutters, considering the weapons. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with having weapons on my homestead, Van."

"Oh. Um. I'll put them away tomorrow, then," Van offers. If Mr. Gylcross still objected to their presence by the morning, he'd be pretty surprised. "You won't have to deal with them, I promise."

"… Very well," Mr. Gylcross says and then gives him a look. "You'll still stay for the harvest, though, won't you? I planted a lot more than I would've without you here - we'll need all the hands we can get, to get the fields harvested in time."

"I won't go anywhere just yet, Mr. Gylcross," Van assures the man, and smiles. "I'll see my job here to the end."

"Good, good," Mr. Gylcross says and clears his throat, looking at the makeshift barricade before peering up at the sky.  "Well, at least it doesn't look like it will rain tonight… I suppose it's fine, this once," he then says, moving to leave. "And you'll put the spears away?"

"I will," Van says - as soon as they wouldn't have any more use, he would. "Have a good night, Mr. Gylcross."

"You too, my boy - sleep well."

Van smiles at the sentiment, nods and then watches as the farmer heads back to the house, making sure the man is inside before going to double check the barricade, just in case. Everything is where he put it, nothing has been moved. Good.

There's maybe another half an hour until the Rift opens.

No one would be sleeping in Gylcross Farm that night.

-

Proofread by @nimadge [<<Prologue | <Chapter 5 || Chapter 7>>]

-

Cue suspenseful background music...

Gotta say guys, not really seeing point in posting this on tumblr anymore. Might just post on ao3 after this.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 9

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words : 4k

TW : Drugs , Vomit

Masterlist

——————————————————————

Sunday, October 25; 1:30 PM - Miller House.

I get slapped on the cheeks several times. I groan as I emerge from my heavy sleep. I start to hear voices gradually. I squint as the pain in my head intensifies. I blink to adjust to the daylight in the room.

“Damn it, Ona! What did you do?”

I'm completely lost. I can hardly make out what's happening around me. Finally, I find Mapi's eyes, looking deeply worried. Her voice betrays her concern. What could I have done to make her so panicked? I glance down at my arm, where she’s undoing a tightly wound elastic band. Realization hits me when I see the marks on my skin. I can’t show any emotion at the moment.

“She’s coming around!”

I manage to make out Miller's face. My vision is very blurry. I’m utterly confused, but I recognize his voice.

“Damn it, why did you do that?”

Mapi's eyes are filled with tears. I feel terrible seeing her like this. I try to sit up but can’t. I’m in pain all over, which is a very bad sign. I don’t remember anything. I don’t even know how I ended up here. And my headache is only getting worse. Mapi sighs as she helps me swallow some water and a pill. I’m really in trouble.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh? We need to tell your mother, damn it…”

“No!” I finally manage to speak. “N-not my mom… P-please.”

“What do you want me to do, Ona? You injected yourself, damn it,” she snaps.

“Not my mom,” I insist in a small voice. “She’ll send me to rehab. Not my mom,” I repeat. “I’d rather face Bronze.”

“Bronze?” Miller repeats. “Who’s that?”

“Her supervisor,” Mapi sighs, running her hand over her face. “Her mother sent her to a private school in Manchester.”

“Oh crap... I didn’t know. So what do we do now?”

“She didn’t want it to get out for the school’s sake, so keep it to yourself. As for what to do, I have no idea.”

“What time is it?” I manage to ask.

“It’s past 12:30.”

“My flight is at three…”

“Don’t you get that you can’t go?” Mapi snaps. “Your withdrawal symptoms will start, damn it!”

“I have to… I can’t go home. If my mom finds me like this…”

“You’ll end up in rehab, I get it,” she grumbles.

She sighs heavily. I try to think about how I ended up here, but I can’t remember. I panic. Looking around, I finally realize we’re in the bathroom. I must have really overdone it with the alcohol. I feel a deep sense of guilt and start to worry. I’m a mess. I promised Bronze I wouldn’t mess up, and now I’ve done the worst thing possible. I don’t know what’s worse, her or rehab, but I’d rather take my chances with her. I don’t want to set foot in a rehab center again. I really hope they don’t take me home. Mapi seems to be thinking, glancing at Miller.

“OK. What do you suggest, Batlle?”

Ouch, if she’s calling me by my last name, she’s really mad at me…

“My bags are already packed… We just need to get them and you drop me at the airport. I can manage for now. If the withdrawal starts, I’ll deal with it.”

“You have a two-hour flight, damn it! You’ll never make it unscathed!”

“I know my body... I’ll probably just get a fever at first, it should be manageable… Then I’ll text Alexia to have someone pick me up at the airport… I have no other choice,” I sigh.

I see the worry in her eyes. I close mine to keep thinking about my plan. It’s risky, but I can’t let her see my worry, or she’ll never let me do it.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know what’s worse, rehab or Bronze… But I think I’d rather face Bronze… She’s going to kill me, damn it.”

“Does she know about your drug problem?”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “She won’t leave me like this, but at least I’m sure she won’t send me to rehab… I hope.”

“Fine. Can you stand?”

I nod. I’m starting to regain some strength, so it should be fine. She gets up first and helps me. It’s hard, but I manage thanks to Mapi and the bathtub I was leaning against. My headache spikes as I stand, but I manage it by closing my eyes. My body feels numb. I silently hope it’s just from my position and not from the heroin.

“I’ll get your bags. Miller, get the car ready. You’re driving. And you,” she points at me. “You’re taking a good shower and changing into the clothes we prepared.”

No one dares to contradict Mapi’s organization. Everyone leaves the bathroom, giving me the space I need. I’m glad they removed all traces of drugs from the room. They must have gotten rid of it before I woke up. I shower as quickly as possible. I dress in my clothes and pack my dress and heels in the bag I brought. I don’t even bother with makeup and leave the bathroom. I go downstairs to find Miller and Bryan in the hall. They smile at me timidly.

“Are you going to be okay, Ona?” Bryan asks.

“No choice… I just have a headache for now.”

“Mapi’s waiting for us. We’d better go.”

We nod and head out to Miller’s car. We stop at my place to pick up Mapi. She says she informed Hector and Joan. My stomach knots at the thought. I’m the worst big brother ever. I didn’t even spend much time with him. I feel terrible because I promised him that if I came back, it would be for him. I can’t even say goodbye to him myself. He deserves so much better. I’m just a selfish idiot. I look out the window to hide my feelings from the others. The drive to the airport is silent. They help me check in my bags and stay with me until the end. I use the waiting time before boarding to text Alexia. I thank Miller for charging my phone a bit while I got ready. Luckily, Ale gets home earlier than me on weekends, or my whole plan would be ruined. I just write that I’d prefer someone from camp to pick me up without giving details. I really hope it’s not Bronze, even though it’s likely. I put my phone away when the intercom announces my flight. Everyone looks at me with worry, especially Mapi. I smile softly to reassure them.

“Good luck for the next few days,” she murmurs.

“It’ll be fine…”

I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more with that phrase. Probably myself. I have no idea what awaits me once I land on the other side of the country, and it scares me.

“Thanks for everything…”

I hug them one by one. I shorten the goodbyes to stop their worried looks. I join the line to board my plane. I find my seat as indicated on my ticket, and ten minutes later, the plane takes off. I’m already feeling cold, and I know it’s not the altitude causing it. Now that I’m alone, I start to worry. This flight will be the longest I’ve ever had. All I can do is pray that I sleep during these six hours.

Sunday, October 25; 6:00 PM - Manchester Airport.

Finally, I get off this endless flight. I only managed to sleep for half of the journey. I exit the plane with the other passengers, my headache worsening. Fortunately, there was a super nice flight attendant. She took care of me when I woke up and even gave me a sedative, even though she wasn’t supposed to. She must have felt sorry for me. It only worked for a short time, so I’m glad to be on solid ground now. When I reach the terminal, I look for someone familiar. Alexia replied that she passed on the message and expects an explanation. My vision blurs slightly due to the intense light, but I manage to find the person in question. I lower my head and walk timidly towards her. She doesn’t seem very happy to be here. I think I’d really have preferred to see someone else too.

“I hope you have a good excuse for cutting my weekend short, Ona.”

I don’t even dare look Bronze in the eye. Of course, they sent my supervisor. What was I thinking, hoping for someone else? I don’t hear her anymore, and strangely, she doesn’t force me to answer.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks with concern.

“I’m sorry, Bronze,” I say in a trembling voice. “I-I really messed up this time…”

I lift my head to see her frowning eyebrows. She places the back of her hand against my forehead. Her hand is cold, sending a thousand shivers through me on top of my trembling. I’ve felt frozen since leaving Barcelona. The flight attendant gave me a blanket, but it was useless. I’m really starting to feel bad.

“What did you do to end up in such a state?”

My voice is stuck because of a lump in my throat. No words come out. She sighs when I close my eyes after a dull sound. I let my emotions answer for me with an uncontrollable sob. My vision gets even blurrier as tears fill my eyes. I hate feeling so weak, I hate crying in front of someone. Especially my supervisor. I am really ashamed of my behavior and my state. I am simply ashamed of myself.

"I-I don't know how I ended up like this...," I respond in a broken voice. "I don't remember anything, I promise. Believe me, please…"

I avert my eyes. There is no chance she will believe me... I wrap my arms around myself to try to warm up. She sighs again. She must have figured out what is going on. It's not hard to understand, after all.

"At least you don't deny your addiction, that's something. Give me your bag. »

"I can carry it. »

"I'm holding back here, Ona," she warns me with a hard look. "You're not in a position to negotiate anything, so give it to me."

I am unable to argue with her, so I hand her my Eastpak bag without protest. She puts it on her back, then she surprises me by putting her hand on my back.

"Let's go. Let's not waste time before your condition worsens."

If she is angry, she hides it very well. We go to retrieve my suitcase before heading to the camp. This is the second time I find myself in her car. I had to ask her to turn off the music because of my headache. The fever keeps increasing as I feel colder and colder. My head is just resting against the seat. I tried the window, but it was moving too much for me to leave it open. I must have fallen asleep because we arrived very quickly. I slowly open my eyes, then close them immediately, groaning in displeasure when she slams the car door. My head is going to explode. She comes to open my door shortly after.

"Wake up, Ona."

"Hmm..."

"Do you need help?"

I recognize Engen's voice. I gradually wake up. When I open my eyes, I see Bronze's hair. She is unbuckling my seatbelt before standing up straight. I have aches all over my body, and I don't think it's just my position.

"Help me lift her."

"It's okay, I can do it," I say.

I try to get out of the car, but it's a complete failure. Bronze sighs and helps me with visible annoyance this time. My shaky legs don't allow me to stand on my own. I have to lean on her while finally spotting Engen in front of us. She looks visibly confused.

"What happened to her?"

"She used drugs during her stay at home."

"So what? She's young, it happens."

"It shouldn't when you're coming out of rehab," Bronze growls, holding me up as best as she can.

"Oh..."

"So, are you helping me or not?"

Bronze finally expresses her anger. I was starting to worry that she wouldn't. I prefer her to show it; at least I know what to expect. I feel my free arm being lifted and put around Engen's shoulders. My supervisor locks her car, and we head away from the camp. I don't recognize the path they are taking, but eventually, we arrive in my room. I hear Alexia's voice, but I haven't been listening for a long time. I feel myself being laid down on my bed. Bronze removes my jacket and shoes before covering me with the blanket.

"I’m cold," I muttered.

"You only have yourself to blame," Bronze scolded me. "Can you watch her while we talk to Wiegman?" she asked Alexia.

"You’re going to talk to Wiegman about this?!" Engen asked.

"What else do you suggest? We can't hide her for a week!"

"You're right," she sighed.

"Putellas, can you do it or not?"

"Yes, yes, of course! But what’s wrong with her?"

"We’ll discuss it later. Meet me in Wiegman’s office if there’s an issue, okay?"

"No problem..."

"Bronze..."

I grabbed her sleeve as best as I could, looking panicked. She turned back to me, her features tense. She was clearly holding back from yelling at me.

"I’m sorry... I- I... I didn’t..."

"It’s okay, Ona. Calm down."

She surprised me by sitting on the edge of my bed. She brushed the hair out of my eyes. Strangely, this calmed me down immediately.

"D- don’t... leave me... p- please."

"That was never my intention."

"I... Not... ag-"

"Don’t worry," she cut me off, understanding where I was going with this. "I’m going to take care of you personally to make sure you don’t do this again. Now stay calm until I get back, okay?"

She’s funny. I’m completely out of it anyway. I nodded to show I understood. She smiled before removing her hand from my cheek and standing up.

"Call someone so you’re not alone. Leah, for example," she said to Alexia. "I won’t be long."

I didn't perceive anything anymore. I couldn't keep my heavy eyes open and let myself drift off to sleep. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but when I opened my eyes, I saw Alexia on her bed and Leah on my desk chair beside me.

"Well, it’s about time you came back to us, princess."

I smiled softly and tried to prop myself up against the wall behind me. I pulled the blanket up to my neck to cocoon myself. I sought warmth wherever I could, even though all I felt was cold. I started trembling again like at the airport.

"Are you going to tell us what’s going on?" Alexia asked.

"It’s complicated," I said, lowering my head.

"Bronze seems to know what’s going on with you," she snapped.

"Don’t listen to her. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to."

"I’m in withdrawal," I whispered.

"What? What did she say?" Alexia asked Leah.

"I knew you were a junkie!"

"How could you know that?" I growled.

"I grew up in bad neighborhoods," he admitted. "I guessed it after spending time with you."

"What? You do drugs?" Alexia finally understood.

"It’s more complicated than that," I said, playing with the blanket in my hands.

"You can talk to us, you know... We won’t tell anyone if you don’t want it to get out," Alexia reassured me.

"I was forced to go to rehab before coming here," I explained. "I was clean... But I don’t know what happened this weekend. I spent the evening at an old high school friend’s place... I drank, and I don’t remember anything. I would never have risked using drugs knowing I was coming back here... I- I have no desire to go through withdrawal again..."

I started having acid reflux and migraines. My head was spinning. It was getting worse. I felt like I was going to experience my worst episodes.

"Wow... And Bronze knows all about this?"

"That I’ve used before? Yes. I almost went to meet a dealer when she took me shopping. She stopped me and scolded me... I realized afterward that it was a stupid idea... I would never have used here."

I lay back down in my bed. My head was spinning uncontrollably, and it was a horrible feeling. My friends must have noticed because they kept asking how I was and if they could do anything. I managed to sit up just in time to vomit on the other side of the bed. I already heard Alexia’s remarks, but I didn’t have time to react before vomiting again.

"Damn, what do we do now?" I heard her say.

"Go get Bronze," Leah commanded. "She told you to get her if there was a problem, didn’t she? I think this qualifies."

I couldn’t stop. The door to the room closed, and I felt Leah grab my hair as the acid reflux continued. The door reopened a few moments later behind me.

"It’s okay, I’ll take over," I heard Bronze say. "Go get a wet washcloth. Preferably cold."

Leah, who had been behind me, stood up to make way for Bronze. She efficiently cleared my hair from my face and ran her fingers through it. She gathered it into a messy bun with a hair tie. She thanked Leah a second later and then placed something on my neck without warning. I gasped at the cold against my skin. I coughed to avoid choking on my own saliva mixed with the remnants of vomit. I spit it out onto the floor with Bronze’s help patting my back, then closed my eyes, appreciating the cold presence that felt surprisingly good.

"Sorry. It’s just a wet washcloth. The cold will help, you’re burning up," she said, pressing it lightly against my skin. "Feeling any better?"

She leaned forward to see me. I pushed her away to lean over the empty space, feeling another wave of nausea. I didn’t want to risk vomiting on her too. It didn’t take long before I vomited again. My stomach was already empty, so it hurt even more with the acid reflux. This was just the beginning, and I was already exhausted. I collapsed against Bronze’s shoulder. Realizing this, I tried to pull away, but she held me close. I abandoned any attempt to get out of her grasp. She flipped the washcloth to find its cool side against my burning skin. I heard noises but didn’t dare move because I was so comfortable. It was short-lived as I had to lean over again to avoid vomiting on Bronze.

"Are you sure you want to take care of her?" Engen grimaced, appearing in front of me. "She’s having quite a fit! Here, vomit into this. I’m not cleaning your mess a thousand times."

Bronze took the basin from Engen and placed it on my lap. I watched her clean my mess off the floor with a mop. I wondered how I managed to vomit so much. The last thing I had in my stomach was the alcohol from the evening.

"I really love Ona a lot," Alexia began. "I understand she needs time to... recover from... this. But I’m not sure I can handle her vomiting every day."

"Don’t worry, she won’t stay here," Bronze replied. "I need your discretion about this. Rumors must not spread."

"What do you mean, she won’t stay here?" my roommate asked.

"We’re moving her to another room to avoid suspicion."

"We need to monitor her and take turns during her withdrawal," Bronze explained. "As I said, this must not get out. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course. When are you moving her?"

"Now. Most people are in the dining hall, and you should be too."

I was glad not to see Bronze. Her sharp voice gave no option but to listen. I was the one who broke the silence by vomiting again, thankfully into the basin. I think Engen would have killed me if I had missed.

"I think that’s a very good idea. You coming, Leah?"

"Yeah. Will we be able to see her this week?"

"I don’t think so," Bronze replied.

"Okay... Will we get updates at least?"

"I’ll try, we’ll see."

"Well then... Good luck, Ona."

I would have liked to respond, but my nausea wouldn’t stop. The door closed behind my friends. The silence was immediately broken by a sigh from Bronze.

"You’ve really put me through the wringer," she complained. "You need to get up. Can you manage?"

"Hmm..." I moaned in response.

"I think we haven’t seen the worst of it yet tonight..." Engen commented.

Engen finished cleaning before we moved. I don’t know how long it took to reach my new room, but it felt like a long time. We stopped countless times so I could vomit into the basin. I was in a daze but recognized Bronze’s room when we arrived. A single bed had been added, and hers had been pushed to the back. They placed me on the new bed, and I immediately wrapped myself in the blanket. Engen put the basin on the floor so I just had to lean over to reach it.

"Thanks, you can go now. I’ll take care of her."

"So, we’re taking turns then?" Engen asked.

"Let’s see how she is tonight. If she sleeps, it won’t be necessary. I’ll call you if needed."

"Are you sure?"

I lost track, but the answer must have been positive because I heard a door close. I sank deeper into the pillow. I had never felt so weak in my life. I was trembling like a leaf. The mattress dipped behind me, and a hand came to stroke my hair. She replaced the washcloth, which startled me again.

"Why did you move me here?" I murmured.

"Wiegman wanted to send you to a center," she admitted. "I negotiated by offering to be responsible for you. Having you here makes it easier to move around and avoids attracting curious eyes because of the commotion in your room. Just remember, you owe me one."

"Thank you..."

"Your parents will be notified since I imagine you left home without telling them."

I didn’t respond. She was absolutely right anyway. I wouldn’t have come back to the camp if that had been the case. I expected Bronze to scold me, but nothing came.

"You were lucky to arrive here safely, Ona," she finally said. "Imagine if you had gotten sick before getting here?"

"I took the risk," I murmured. "I had a good hostess."

She sighed and removed her hand from my head. Her weight disappeared from behind me. I didn’t have the strength to turn and see what she was doing.

"I guess you don’t want to take a shower?"

I shook my head slightly to indicate no. I managed to shower this morning before I felt really bad.

"Change clothes either?"

I responded the same way. I should, but I didn’t feel capable of moving at all. Plus, I had no clothes with me. I thought Bronze’s clothes would fit me, but it would be weird to wear her pajamas. I finally saw her crouch in front of me with clothes in hand.

"I’m going to take a shower. Try not to choke during that time."

"Very funny," I muttered.

"I think so too," she smiled. "Let’s be clear, I expect explanations from you about this incident. Oh, and also," she added, standing up. "Don’t expect to receive any substitute medications. I’m in charge of you, and I’ve decided you’ll face your withdrawal head-on."

"Hmm."

"Try to sleep. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better."

Of course, she wasn’t going to give me anything to ease my withdrawal. It’s harder, but I prefer it that way. I don’t want to become addicted to something else instead. She left for the bathroom. I was relieved to feel my eyes getting heavy. That’s all I wanted. I wanted to sleep to escape this hell that would last a while.

[whoisneo404]

feel better

summary: nick has a long day, so you help him feel better

tw: nsfw

i hear nicks voice message as i walk into my room. my hair damp from my shower, i sigh as i hear that he is having a rough day, today he comes to have a sleepover and i wanted to have a nice time with him, we still can, but i hate it when he comes grumpy, it makes me feel a bit sad that i cant always help him.

i send a message trying to comfort him and reasure him that it will be fine, that he just has to wait a few hours more and we can cuddle in front of my tv while he tells me all about his (in his words) annoying lame brothers.

i clean up my room a bit as i wait for him to come home. he said he was on his way, so i quickly changed clothes and sat in my livingroom waiting for the knock on my door, i look down at my phone and open tiktok, i scroll pass some funny videos and some romantic/cute couple videos, i see some slides that read "when he is having a bad day, so i suck it away" i snorted at this, amazed by the peoples unhinged comments about their partners and how they will do this or how they want their partner to do this.... wait, my boyfriend is having a bad day, should i-.

KNOCK KNOCK.

i shake the thought away as i stand up, i hear some keys moving and the door opens, he used the spare key i gave him a long time ago.

"honey." i say as i walk to him as hug him tightly, his tired eyes looking at mine as i kiss his lips softly.

"hi." he whispers. we stand there a long time, his face buried in the crook of my neck, i hear him hum and sigh against my skin.

"lets go lay down on my room." nick doesn't reply, he just hums. i pull our of the hug, but he grabs my hand snd walks closely to me as i close and lock the door, then on the kitchen i pour a glass of water for him, his hand still on mine, and when we were walking to my room he was practicaly glued to me, his chest against my back as we made it to my bed.

"wanna tell me about your day?" i ask as i sit make him sit on the edge of the bed.

"hm, bot really. just the usual fights with matt anc chris, just that today they decided to be more annoying than usual, dumb kids." he rolls his eyes, i walk closer to him and his large arms wrap around my waist.

"maybe i can help to make you feel better."

"yeah? how will you do that?" he smiles weakly and looks up at me. i rub his shoulders and smile at him.

"maybe... i can eat you out." i see his cheeks burn up a bit, mine do too. even when we have been together for a long time and have done all kinds of things with eachother, we always get flustered when initiating intimate things.

"i- shit. how can i say no to that." i kiss his check and then go down on my knees in front of him, he looks down at me and grins.

"i'll make you feel better, i promise." i say as i start to feel his bulge over the thick fabric of his pants. he shuts down a moan.

"im sure you will." i feel his dick get harder from my touch, nick rolls and buckles his hips a bit as he tries to get mote pleasure.

"just relax, let me do the job." i unbuckle his jeans and with his help i push them down. his boxers have a wet spot right were his tip lays against the fabric, he seems a bit embarrased about it. "aww, such a messy boy." i see his face get red and he looks away. "its okay, baby, i know you needed this." i grab his lenght over the fabric and i rub my thumb against the wet spot, his sensitive cock twitching all over.

"fuck, need ylur mouth, please." he whines.

"who am i to say no to my pretty boy?" i play with the hem of his boxer a bit, pulling the elastic band and letting go of it so it slaps against his skin. i slide them down just enough for his lenght to stand up in front of me. white drop rolling down his lenght, i give lick and kisses to his head, my hand grabbing the base of his dick and my other hand playing with his half clothes balls.

i push it inside my mouth, at first slowly and teasing him a bit, he throws his head about, his mouth opens and lets out pretty moans and deep groans. my head moves up and down, every time deeper and faster, sloppy just like he loves it. now the room is filled with wet noises and nicks moans, praises and "i love you"s scaping his mouth.

his hips buckle and his legs tremble, his breath is uneven and one of his hands push down on my head making me gag. tears pooling in my face, his dick twitching and pulsing inside of me. i hear him cry out that he is close. i keep moving with his helps and when i least expect it i feel the warm liquid hit my throat. i pull away and cough a little, then i swallow, his taste all over my tongue, i get up and sit on his lap, his head resting on my chest as he tries to catch his breath.

"did you liked it." i ask and he nods.

"loved it."

"im glad." i kiss his forehead and move the little hairs sticking to his forehead out of the way.

"shit, thanks, it was amazing." he buries his head into me and rubs his cheek against my chest.

"im glad you enjoyed. lets go get you cleanned up."

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab 11

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Frustration, Celebration, and Coffee Inhalation

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

Please comment, like, share, and reblog! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters or find chapter one here.

The apartment was silent, broken only by the occasional shouting, shooting, and sirens. For anyone living in Gotham City, especially the rougher parts, this was all white noise. A day of actual  silence was a blessing that no one dared to question. Today was not one of those nights. In fact, it was noisier than most, which usually meant trouble was closer than usual. None of that mattered to Y/N as she sat cross armed and cross-legged on the worn out sofa, staring down at her phone that lay on the coffee table before her.

Seconds had turned to minutes which quickly became an hour which was now nearing two as she sat there stone still. Since coming home from her shift, she had perched herself on the couch as if to judge the cellular device that was placed on the stand. There was now a new number on her phone. Nine new digits under the contact name: Your Hero and a message thread that held one text saying ‘hi’ from her phone to this person. 

The same person with the mesmerising blue eyes that looked like they held the secrets of life itself, tinged with sadness and pain. Tall, muscular but not overly bulky but certainly much bigger than her, with black hair that had a high contrast streak of white in the front. The same interrogative gentleman who saved her from the drink and Matias. The very person who had her drowning in 4k worth of debt to the hotel for room damage. Thrice he appeared out of nowhere and twice were to save her from serious trouble. The one and only silver tongued Wonder Boy who was into books and video games.

“Who just shows up to save someone on time like that? Is he really some sort of self-proclaimed hero?” She muttered to herself, unfolding her arms to rest her chin in one of her palms.  “What do I do now? Do I text him? Should I ask about the room? How do I even bring that up without him claiming I’m some liar trying to squeeze money out of him? It’s not like I knew he was a Wayne! I didn’t sit there and memorise all their faces, and just hoped to the high heavens one had a decent enough personality to save me. I didn’t even want to go to the reunion! Do I just wait for him to text me? He did say he was going to text me, but do I just believe that? When is that going to happen? What did I even say yes to?!” She threw her arms up in frustration and ruffled her hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do?!” She let out a heavy sigh of frustration, staring up at the dated popcorn ceiling as she slumped back into her seat, laying her head on the top of the cushion. Today is going to be a long day. She blinked a few times, fatigue getting the best of her. Forcing herself to stand up, she grabbed her phone and made her way to her bedroom. Sleep was the only answer after such a hectic night shift.

“Tonight, we celebrate, Magnus ol’ buddy!” Jason grinned, snapping the elastic band of the party hat under the stone chin. “Yours truly has managed to not only find her,” he walked away and paused for suspense, turning with ease to face his rock friend once more. “But also get her number and her name! Sure, I got it off her name tag, but I plan on getting it from her directly!” He grinned from ear to ear as he walked back, waving the lit up phone screen in its face as he leaned against Magnus. “Sorry I haven’t been around to update ya on things, I had to help with shit on the other side of the city for the last couple of weeks. At least it wasn’t boring. But that’s beside the point, I finally got something on her before she got on me! Man, you should’ve seen the look on her face! I left her speechless!” He puffed his chest with pride as he plopped down onto his usual seat by Magnus, opening up the rolled up paper bag.

He pulled out a large order of fries, setting it sideways in Magnus’ mouth for easy access before grabbing the burger beneath it, his drink set between them and his helmet just within reach. Batburgers were the perfect on-the-go late night celebratory food. He was not scheduled to be on patrol today, but no one told him what to do. He just merely agreed with decisions for the most part, today was just one of difference of opinion. Let the Batman rant and rave, Jason would not let anyone take away his victory.

“So, what was the last thing we talked about? Ah, right! Some mobsters were causing shit thinking I wasn't around to crack skulls. Fucking dumbasses,” he rolled his eyes and took a hearty bite of his burger. “The look of shock on their faces, you’d think they saw a ghost! I know I’ve died a few times, depending on what stories you follow, but I’m still flesh and blood. Of course, they tried to fix that, thinking they had a chance. They never learn, and that's why they always fucking lose. When I ran shit, I was smart about it. Throwing muscle mindlessly is a waste. You can't educate the brainless though. I had to make sure to do a proper job, and couldn't leave just anyone to send the message. Things should be quiet over there for a bit which gives me the chance to actually reach out to Y/N.”

“Y/N, huh? That’s a pretty name.” A familiar voice held an annoying lilt to it. Jason’s eyebrow twitched as he took a sip of his soda.

“Whaddya want, Dickwing?” He grumbled.

“What, can’t an older brother come check in on his AWOL younger brother?” Nightwing placed a hand over his heart and hung his head. “You wound me, little brother.” He frowned, noticing the party hat on the gargoyle. “And to have a party without inviting me? I am doubly hurt! Maggie has a hat and fries!”

“Magnus is important. He doesn’t say stupid shit like you are now.” Jason scoffed, taking one of the crispy golden potato sticks.

“Margrave can’t say anything. I still think you should see someone about this unhealthy relationship you have with this heap of concrete.” Nightwing knocked two knuckles against it before taking a seat beside Jason. “So, who is Y/N, and why are you texting her? Where did you meet? Should I be worried, and for whom between the two of you?”

“Shut up,” the younger former Robin grumbled. “You better not fucking do anything or I’ll kill you.” He warned Nightwing quickly raising his hands up in surrender. “She's the girl I was trying to find about the whole hotel fiasco.”

“The one where you broke the simple coffee machine and ruined the room, leaving her with a huge bill to clear?” He smirked as Jason scowled.

“Yes, that one. Keep it up, see what happens.” He grumbled.

“Alright, alright! So, you finally found her, hm? That's good, you can give her the money and move on finally. You won't have some rando holding that over you anymore. Did you get the money sent to her already?”

Jason knew that was what he needed to do and that was the whole purpose of trying to find her. Give her the money and move on. There was no use or reason to delay. The sooner he paid, the sooner she was free to move on as well. Being involved any more than necessary was a danger to her and a burden on him. And yet, the thought alone left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. 

Y/N was witty and funny, easy to approach and talk to even if it was just nonsense. He wanted to keep talking to her, and not just through a computer screen. He wanted to know more about her day, the crazy customers, and the shenanigans of her and Citlalli. He wanted to sit and drink coffee or tea or whatever she drank and discuss books, plan little gaming raids, or just talk about life. He knew nothing about her. 

I could just look it up now that I know her name and place of employment. I could find out everything about her and clear up the mystery that is her, feed the curiosity and be done with it…but I don't want to. Not only that, but I want to hear it from her, organically. Even if I did read all there is, I'd want to hear it from her. 

“Earth to Jason, are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m just thinking.”

“You, thinking? Oh man, that isn’t good. Should I be expecting a second duffle bag incident?”

“Duffle bag what? No, that was one time, you guys need to learn to let it go!” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s pretty hard to just let go of the fact that your younger brother was carrying eight heads stuffed in a gym bag.” Nightwing scoffed. “Excuse me for being a little concerned.”

“It was one time!” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not some psycho serial killer or something. If you’re here to rain on my parade, you can fuck off! This is why I didn't invite you, Magnus knows how to read a balcony. It’s clearly a party.” He motioned to the shiny pointy hat on said gargoyle’s head. “Also, aren’t you on patrol? Quit slacking off and go.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave! I can tell when I’m not wanted!” Nightwing let out a heavy sigh as he stood up. “Unloved and thrown away like last week’s newspaper.” He sniffled loudly. “I see how it is!” He threw his head back with the back of his hand to his forehead.

“If you get it, then leave.” Jason grumbled, opening up the wrapper of his second burger. “Thanks, for the assist.” He mumbled before taking a bite. Nightwing had just barely heard the words, but smiled nonetheless.

“Anytime, Little Red,” he chuckled before vanishing into the night. 

Over the course of the next two weeks, Y/N picked up every and all shifts that she could possibly find to help clear the money owed. Citlalli was great in helping her find work, while away and on her return. The return of the boisterous and flamboyant Citlalli was like sunshine after weeks of doom and gloom rain, refreshing and much needed. Y/N had been keeping herself too busy to even think, and Citlalli’s return was a great distraction, but also a great sounding board on what to do. She had told her dear friend all about her encounter with her troublesome cousin and the return of her expensive hero. Citlalli was not thrilled to hear about her cousin’s antics, and had quickly informed their boss of what transpired. She also insisted that Y/N should wait for him to text, since that is what he said he would do. The task was simple enough, validating the decision she had been leaning towards as is. 

However, that was then. Two weeks and some days had gone by, and nothing. Utter radio silence from him. No sudden appearances, even though Matias did come by some times to try to get her attention. And her online gaming partner was also MIA. Arkham_Knight said it would be about a week, but there was no movement or notice from him either. It was driving her crazy to just sit and wait for both of them.

The next time I see him, I’m going smack him! How do you tell someone you’re going to message them and just don’t?! Especially after you made sure to get my number to send details, what details?! She wanted to scream, but she was on the clock. It was another graveyard shift and the café was dead. Everything had been cleaned spotless and anything that needed to be restocked was done. She even went through the inventory to make a list of what needed to be reordered soon. With nothing left, she took a seat on the stool and pulled out her book since there was nothing else to do.

As soon as she cracked it open, there was the sound of glass shattering. She reflexively ducked for cover as the window shards went flying everywhere. She could hear the sounds of a struggle at the crunch and scratch of the pieces, a muffled frantic voice followed by a calmer, more exasperated one.

“I told you we could do this the easy way or the hard way, you chose the hard way.” The young male voice flippantly spoke. “Now, tell me what I need to know. I can keep this up all night if I have to, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” 

And I just cleaned the whole place! Y/N scowled at her turn of luck, carefully closing her book and placing it aside. What am I supposed to do in this situation?! I can’t exactly greet them and ask what they would like to order, who knows what they’ll do to me. Wasn’t his place supposed to be ‘crime free’? So much for that promise, thanks for nothing Gotham politicians! She grumbled to herself, slowly lifting her head to just above the counter to see who was responsible for destroying the cafe. She was surprised to see it was one of the famous caped crusaders of Gotham City. Red Robin, here? With who? She tried to get a look of the captured person but her attention was caught by the sound of crunching glass and she ducked quickly for brief moment.

“Did we get it?”

Nightwing? Well damn, I know I said I wanted something to happen, but this was not what I had in mind. She slowly stood up from her hiding spot after shifting over to right so that the machines would help hide her for a little longer.

“Not yet, but looks like he’s just about ready.” Red Robin answered, looking over his shoulder at Nightwing, catching sight of Y/N’s hat in the process. “Looks like we have an audience.”

What do I do? What do I do? Y/N’s eyes darted from side to side trying to find a place to run, but she was boxed in and there was no way she would outrun one of them. With no options of escape, she slowly walked towards the register so she was more visible with both her hands up. “I’m unarmed, I’m just an employee here.” She forced herself to speak calmly and clearly.

“An employee here, where are we?” Nightwing quickly surveyed the location and realized they had come crashing through an actual business and not one of the under construction buildings. “So he ran here hoping to be seen by someone.” He muttered.

“See what? I don’t see anything, except for two potential customers debating if they want to order.”

“Smart girl,” Red Robin answered, turning to face her after tying up the guy on the floor. The two vigilantes walked up to the counter and looked up past Y/N to see what was available. While Red Robin realized where they were, Nightwing realized something else. She noticed and looked down to see it was at her name tag.

“Y/N, that’s a pretty name.” He grinned. “I think we will order something, Y/N. What do you say?”

“Red Eye with two shots of espresso and some steamed milk, large.” The order came out quick, a slight eagerness in the tone. Y/N could not help but stare at the younger of the two masked males.

“I’m guessing you like coffee, and strong at that.”

“It helps when working the night.” He stood a little straighter.

“Riiiight, I’m not judging. I work in a café.” She shrugged, dropping her arms since she needed to make the order. “And you, Mr. Nightwing?”

“Mead Raf for me, medium is fine.”

“To go, or did you plan on staying to chat? We’re a 24-hour café, though I suppose I need to have you leave, since I need to clean up all the glass.” She motioned to the floor.

“Ah yes, sorry about that, Y/N. We’ll have it to go so you can get to cleaning.” Nightwing chuckled, amused by how she was handling the situation. The two watched her as she carefully made the drinks, making sure no glass managed to find its way behind the counter or into the coffee. 

“One large Red Eye with two shots of espresso and steamed milk and one medium Mead Raf. Is that all?” The vigilantes looked between one another and nodded their heads. “Alright, here you go. Consider it a small thanks for doing your best to keep us safe. You sure you don’t want anything to eat? Or are you not allowed to eat on the job?”

“There are no rules about that, we just gotta keep our hands free as much as possible. Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled at her name. He noticed the corners of her lips tug downwards. “Is something wrong?"

“Hm? No, nothing.” I’m overthinking it. He’s probably saying my name to make sure I know that he knows my name now and if I say anything, it’ll be easy to find me. “I’m a snacker, so I guess not having something on hand seems a bit cruel.”

“It’s annoying, but we need to be able to react quickly.” Red Robin agreed, taking his cup and taking a rather big drink from it. She tried to stop him, but could only watch. He was not the first to drink burning hot coffee in front of her, but it was always strange to see. Nightwing was not as crazy, he waited for a bit before sipping his drink.

“Perfect,” he smiled in approval. “Thanks again, Y/N, and here, something for your troubles.” He winked, slipping something into the tip jar before grabbing the tied up man. “Until next time,” he flashed her a grin as Red Robin held the door open and the two walked out as if they had not just come crashing through one of the windows.

She looked down at the tip jar to see what looked to be a $100 bill and something else. Do they get paid to do this job, or is this from a day job? Where the hell did he even keep this money? I don’t see any room for pockets in his suit, but then again, it’s all black. Red Robin did have a belt, maybe he holds the change? Her focus then shifted her attention to the glass littering the floor and sighed, there was no way she was going to be able to run the rest of the shift like this. Locking the doors, she grabbed the cleaning supplies and called her boss, letting him know of the situation at hand. “Well, at least it wasn’t dull.” She muttered as she got to cleaning until her boss got there to have the window temporarily patched up.

[eastwindmlk]

So, remember I was going to do a short continuation of that jilypad smut prompt? Based on this post.

4k NSFW under the cut

Sirius spent about ten seconds longer snogging his conquest at the thrash hold and for something that lasted about nine seconds, that wasn’t a great ending to a disappointing night.

Honestly, it wasn’t Mark’s fault - Was it Michel? Michael maybe. - it was difficult to impress anyone who’d lived with James Potter and his girlfriend for any amount of time. It really bred the expectation of sex involving several invocations of deities and at least one series of worrying clatters followed by giggling.

But this had been none of that.

At no point had he even considered calling out for God, Merlin or anyone for that matter. He’d finished, because he supposed he it was polite to, but his mind had wandered away from Matthew at some point. Not far. Just the next room over, through the thin walls, that they swore they were going to soundproof but never did.

The point was that Sirius felt like a proper arse, was still very much unsatisfied and it was far too late to find someone new.

Sirius sighed in frustration, a hand raking over his face as he decided to have a large measure of gin and juice and then…

“So, Micah didn’t deliver?” The voice pulled Sirius from his thoughts, his eyes peering into the hallway to find James, shirtless and wearing sinfully tight grey joggers, leaning in the doorway.

Sirius pressed his lips together before releasing them with a pop and a lacklustre “Eh, it was fine.” Which sounded not dissimilar to how he had explained away every single terrible date he’d been on harkening back all the way to Cassandra Fitzroy in third year.

He did not even have to look to know the exact expression on his face and he did not want to see it. He did not want James’ sympathy. Not after the night he’d had. The thoughts he did not need flooded back. “I need a shower,” he announced, pushing past James with his eyes down determined to ignore his friend.

“Have a nice wank,” James told him, sounding far too smug for his liking.

Sirius paused, rubbing the tense spot between his brows. “Piss off, mate,” he snapped, his heart beating painfully fast. Hammering against his ribs, wondering if James knew every tie he touched himself in the same way he could always tell when they were about to shag.

He was about to reach for the the bathroom door when the door handle rattled making him startle. Watching Lily appear, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered the tops of her thighs.

That was a sight that was now burned into his brain and he was very glad he was heading to the shower.

“Oh, Massimo didn’t work out?” Lily asked and instead of disappearing into the bedroom, she just leaned against James. Her head rested against his shoulder as the pair of them stood there. The poster children for bisexual awakenings. “It was awfully quiet,” she remarked and it made his face burn in embarrassment.

Sirius sniffed indignantly, his jaw setting as he marched to towards the bathroom door. “Well, that is just my shit luck, isn’t it!” His voice rose a little more than he had intended. “Now if you two and your incredibly creative sex life leave me to wank in peace?” His ears were ringing as he gripped the door frame in frustration.

“So, you know what we get up to then?” Lily asked, her eyes sparkling dangerously amused as she shared a look with James.

He knew that she was baiting him, that he should not let himself be teased and he should not be biting. But he was starving and no matter how torturous the send-off would be, the masochist in him was hungry for their attention. “It’s hard not,” he answered, dragging his eyes away from her thighs, away from the outline in James’ joggers and up.

His eyes lingered on James’ toned chest, glinting over at Lily’s flushed breasts ready to spill out of that ridiculously small towel of hers when James’ words snapped his gaze upward like an elastic band being released. “But you think of us when they’re fucking you, don’t you?” His full lips had curved into a knowing smile.

“I… That’s not true!” Sirius answered, too fast to be believable. He couldn’t even lie convincingly. Not when his wandering imagination was still so fresh. The twist of guilt in his stomach still slowly untwisting. Because a quarter of an hour before, that is precisely what he’d done. And it had not even been the first time.

The couple shared another look, James’ arm tightening around Lily’s shoulder and her towel shifted, a welcome distraction from the wild plans spinning in his mind. He considered several outs before settling on: “Now if you don’t mind. I am going to drown myself in the shower.”

Like magnets the pair shifted, moving forward half a step before stopping. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” Lily told him, real concern lacing her voice. Her delicate hand stretched out towards him, resting her fingers on his forearm.

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed at that, not dignifying her coddling with an answer. What else was he going to do? He just practically admitted to fantasizing about his roommates, who also happened to be good mates and in a very loving and committed relationship.

He should have fled already, half-hard cock and all, taken himself out for a walk or a ride. Anything but linger after those words. Hoping that his world would flip itself right way up and they could all pretend nothing happened when he returned.

“You could join us,” James suggested and just like that his world took another wild spin. “You’d fit right in.”

All Sirius could do for a moment was blink, his eyes dropping to Lily’s dark red tips. Her touch suddenly took on an entirely different context. The warmth of her hand spread through him like wildfire. Burning away the nerves.

Even if this was a fugue, one night of insanity, Sirius would never forgive himself if he’d turn this down. “I suppose that is an option,” he posed doubtfully, trying to reign himself in.

Her hand grabbed on tighter now, the towel shifting and coming undone but she did not seem to care. Lily allowed it to happen and her naked form pulled him into their bedroom.

“Now, care to tell us what you were thinking about?” James asked, the bed creaking under the weight of the three of them toppling onto it. Like him, Lily lay on her stomach, hands folded under her head, auburn locks spilling over her shoulder and Sirius’ arm draped over her bare waist. A constant reminder that her alabaster skin was just there. All he would have to do was look over and she wanted him to? At the very least, she seemed unbothered by it.

His fingers absently traced the curve of her body, like discovering its true shape. Memorizing its peaks and valleys in case this was the only time he would be close enough to. His fingers only paused when he got uncertain, fingers lingering, poised on her hip. Before he allowed his hand to shape to the curve of her voluptuous arse and he fought the urge to squeeze. To feel the pliable flesh. He had to focus and answer their question. James’ question.

James’ warm body beside him, equally unbothered by his motions. He was so close he could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. Those damned clothes. They were too hot and too tight, but he did not want to move and risk this dream to end.

Then James reached out, his hand pushing the hair away from his neck and he could feel her hot breath, smell the faint hint of peppermint toothpaste while he leaned in close. All of this made it difficult for him to remember to breathe, never mind recall what fantasy he had conjured up during one of the most underwhelming shags he’d ever had. “I think it was… Just like this,” he mused, his lips curving into a smile. “Very little clothing, a little wandering hands, I suppose.”

Sirius twisted his head, to look at James. Their noses brushed, their lips almost meeting and neither of them was willing to pull away. The look he exchanged with James told him that his friend did not buy it, not entirely. He wasn’t wrong. “Is that all?” James asked, his tone curious but with an edge to it. An eagerness, almost. Which was usually reserved for areas of particular interest. Something this most certainly was not, right?

“That is how it started,” Sirius posed, his voice barely a whisper. With every word, their lips brushed together. All he would have to do was reach and their lips would meet. A kiss he had long anticipated, a kiss he would savour.

Much to Sirius’ dismay, James pulled away from him to slide off the bed. A hand reached out to him. “Then I think there might be too much clothing still, don’t you think?” he remarked, and Sirius had to agree and took his hand. He let himself be pulled off the bed, driven by his curiosity.

Warm hands slid under his shirt, lifting the hem and just like that the rough, cheap cotton slipped over his head. He did not care where it was discarded too, because his hands were in the waistband of James’ joggers, reluctantly tugging at the elastic. The fabric catching.

Sirius did not need to look down to know what it caught on. He just swallowed away the dryness of his tongue and the tightness of his throat. He pushed the fabric down regardless, past the bulge growing in his trousers, past the broom thighs and paused when his fingers could no longer reach.

Now he was left with a choice. To let his body swallow the light between them, skin connecting to skin. Ignore the problem of trousers a little longer. Quench the hunger for his lips. Or indulge the less tender fantasy he’d had. The quick and dirty thing of getting on his knees and tasting something else entirely.

But before he could make the choice, James captured his lips. The elastic slipped away from his thumbs when he kicked the joggers off. James’ hands reached up to cradle his face in a surprising show of tenderness.

Sirius rested his arms loosely around James’ waist and he could feel the dimples at the base of his back under his fingertips. Making him want to explore more.

But their kiss was interrupted by another warm hand, fingers lingered on the soft flesh of his stomach, the vulnerable pace right above his pelvis. Heart leaping when to his left Lily’s voice appeared, soft and sweet. “Can I?” Her fingers brushed against the buttons of his jeans.

His breath hitched when he felt even the slightest of brushes along his erection, which painfully strained against the confines of his tight trousers. “Please,” Sirius choked out, his eyes seeking James as if asking for permission. He wasn’t sure to whom he should direct his attention.

However, he found that he did not need to think too much. Lily made quick work of the buttons, and his jeans were now open. Her lips caught his relieved groan, her tongue immaculately sliding against his.

Unlike James, she did not take it slow. She was eager for him, hungry and unabashed. He liked it. No, Sirius loved it. He gladly let her take control, even chasing her lips when they left his to be guided back to the bed.

“Tell us more,” Lily encouraged, pressed into his side as he lay there, prone. Both of them looked at him with smouldering eyes. Recognizing both their attempts at tempering their curiosity.

James’ fingers ghosted over his inner thigh, making Sirius swallow a whine when they circled back down too soon. “What happens now?” He asked, the low rumble of his voice almost making him ache more than the teasing fingers. Lily’s having joined the duet trailing along his hip, neither of them getting close enough to touch him where he needed them.

Sirius gulped and closed his eyes to recall how to speak when his mind was slowly starting to feel more like jelly than something functional. “There was something with hands and mouths?” He did not intend to make it sound like a question, but his pitch curved upward at the end regardless.

“Hands?” James mused and Sirius could see that damned smirk before his head dipped to kiss his clavicle and slowly trail down. “Who’s hands? And where were they?” he asked, the tip of his tongue swirling around his nipple before he took the dusty pink nub between his teeth.

Lily’s hand sprawled out of his stomach, her thumb brushing dangerously close to Sirius’s cock. “Who’s mouth is doing what?” Her voice had dropped to a purr too and he swore that if they went on like this he might just finish with as much as a touch. The anticipation was enough to make something coil in his stomach.

“Fuck, uhm. Both, everywhere.” Sirius normally never had trouble with words. He had a sharp tongue and he knew how to wield it, the bedroom was no different. He liked to talk dirty and was good at it.

Normally.

Nothing about this was normal, this had to be a dream, a trip or something. But this was not supposed to happen anywhere but his fantasies.

He caught a silent exchange, two glances that were heavy with conversation that he could almost understand.

James’ had dipped lower, down his abdomen, teeth scraping along his hip bone, making his twist and ache for a touch.

Another set of lips kissed down his side, Lily’s nose skimming across his skin as she, too, made her way downward. Why? What were they doing? Sirius didn’t know, but he wanted to see. Muscles flexed while he dug his elbows into the mattress, pushing himself up in time to watch them kiss.

A wet, sloppy kiss, desperate and with a lot of tongue. Only pulling apart enough to… Fuck Sirius wasn’t sure if the word left his mouth or his mind just screamed it as white-hot pleasure blinded him.

Sirius’s eyes rolled back into his head when two tongues twisted around his cock. Hot and wet and mind-blowing. “Oh god,” the invocation pulled from his lips breathlessly.

He was not a religious man, but he knew in his very being that this was what it felt like to be blessed. To worship and be worshipped.

It did not take long for him to collapse onto the bed under the force of their relentless dedication. Only moved when hands insisted, his hips canting, his leg being lifted. It wasn’t until hands grabbed onto his arse, spreading him open that he even realized what was happening.

A wet, cool tongue deliberately traced along the sensitive muscle. The sensation rendered him speechless, a whimpering moan breaking from his chest as his back arched, pulling him heavenwards.

If this was what it always felt like for them, he could hardly blame all the noise and the sleepless nights.

“Please,” Sirius pleaded, breathless and desperate when the tongue pressed inside of him and his hips stuttered stubbornly, rutting involuntarily into the back of a throat.

He could hear James groan around him. God, fuck. Just the idea alone and then his hand came down on his hip to hold him still. “Please, please, god, fuck. I… I don’t want to yet,” he prayed panting, gripping and pulling at the sheets beneath him.

Sirius wanted this to last, he needed this to last. He was not about to literally blow it. Even if the thought of James swallowing him alone would be enough to send him over the edge. He was determined to hold on.

They, ever benevolent, were granting him not just absolution of his guilt. But a deliverance altogether.

James’s mouth slid off him with a pop and the filthy sound sent a shiver down his spine. He was uncertain if he was bereaved or relieved for the loss of their mouths on him. Though, even now, he could feel occasional soft kisses when they found their way up.

Lily’s hand pressed gently against his collarbone, her thumb gently rubbing circles into him. James’ hand caressing his hair, pulled him back to earth, just enough to form coherent thoughts, to blink at the pair of them his anticipation reflected in their eyes.

“When does the mysterious clattering come in?” Sirius asked playfully, eyes flicking back and forth between their thoughtful, but amused expressions.

There it was, just a glance and a nearly imperceptible nod from Lily. ‘You tell him’ James quirked a brow, lips tugging into a lazy smirk. ‘If you’re sure’ and he didn’t even need to look to know that she narrowed her eyes in response.

The realisation that this wasn’t new. That he and James had always done this. Understood each other without words. Lily was no different, he knew the way her mind worked and how she would weave her words.

“Yes, Prongs please do the honours,” Sirius told him, shifting to his side to look at James, more than a little pleased to feel Lily shift with him, her arm draping over him, their legs tangling together comfortably.

Or as comfortably as he could be after having been this close to the edge before stopping.

“It’s… erm the toy trunk, I guess,” James chuckled and pulled in closer, kissing him again. He could feel their hard cocks brushing together and somehow only then realized that this was as hot for them as it was for him.

“I’d like to try that out too then,” Sirius muttered against his lips, his hand reaching down to wrap around James. A wave of satisfaction washed over him when he earned a low grown. A soft growling sound in the back of James’ throat made the heat inside of him blossom all over again.

Lily’s chest pressed into his back more firmly, her lips sucking at the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck. A mark he would proudly wear come morning. “I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet,” she told him, taunting him.

“I’m sure I can-” His sentence cut off when her middle and ring finger pressed into him from behind. Subtle motions, trailing the slick her mouth had left along.

“Is that so? You can handle it?” Her sultry purr suddenly had a firm edge to it. A gentle, terrifying, dominance she rarely displayed. “Do you want me to fuck you then?”

Sirius gulped at that, his hand stilling long enough for James to impatiently thrust into his fist, encouraging him to continue. “Maybe?” His voice slid up the octave with his doubtful answer.

“It’s all up to you, love. You were telling us about your fantasy.” Her teeth sunk into his shoulder, a playful nip to add to the reminder that this was all for him.

He was grateful for James, who stole his lips before he could answer. Before he could think about what he really wanted. Only retreating when he had his answer. “No, not now. I want… fuck, I need to be inside of you. I want to come inside of you while James fucks me,” he confessed, and a litany of curses and praise tumbled from his lips when she curled her fingers inside of him.

“Mmh, I knew you had good taste,” James praised him, the fingers in his hair pulling taut and tugging his head back enough for him to leave another mark on his throat before releasing him.

With a chaste kiss on his lips and an excited smile, Sirius watched James walk across to the dresser. The view of his toned arse made him wonder if he’d made a mistake not taking Lily up on her offer.

A thought that was challenged only by her appearance, sitting kneeling near the pillows. Her skin flushed with excitement. The soft curls of her public hair already glistening with her arousal. Her fingers combed through her hair as she twisted the strands into a plait. “How do you want me?”

The question renders him speechless for a moment like this question somehow weighed more than the one before. More intimate. All took was one look up from the elastic that she was twisting around the end of her braid to make his choice.

“I want to look at you,” he breathed, not nearly as embarrassed as he thought he would be about this. Not when they were so open themselves. It made it easier to admit that he wanted to see her and her to see him when finally, fucking finally, these secret desires would become reality.

The bed dipped, accounding James' return and Lily settled herself into the pillows. Everything tonight seemed to have led to this moment.

Sirius leaned forward, taking his turn at dealing out chaste kisses as he retrieved a pillow for under Lily's hips. Bending forward to line himself up he paused. A moment to let it all settle over him before locking eyes with Lily, returning her soft smile as he slowly sunk into her.

Her face contorted beautifully when he finally bottomed out, filling her completely. "Oh," she sighed, a musical sound that made him smile.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, rocking his hips against hers carefully, his hand cradling her cheek, enraptured by her hooded eyes and parted lips.

Lily captured his hand against her face, holding it close while she pressed her cheek into his touch. "Yes, you?"

Sirius didn't need to think about that and nodded, rocking against her once more before his hips were captured. His stomach fluttered in anticipation when he felt James press against him. He drew in a deep breath, which he held while James thrust upward. Less gentle than he had expected, but so, so good.

The three of them cursed at the same time and then burst into a fit of giggles that did things to Sirius with the way they were all connected.

"Is it okay if I?" James asked, only finishing his question by wrapping Sirius' hair around his hand and Sirius hummed, agreeing. Only answered with a full yes when he felt the tension slack.

James' lips pressed against his shoulder when they started to move, slow and curious. Carefully finding a rhythm that worked for everyone.

The world around him became a blur, leaving nothing more than the three of them. Their sweat-slicked skin, their needy sounds, their grabbing hands. Tender words whispered into flesh while they fulfilled their carnal, mercurial need for each other until he wasn't sure where he began or ended. All he knew was that this was right.

When Lily's hand slid between her legs, he almost possesively pushed them away. Letting his fingers take their place, strumming her clit and enticing these beautiful mewls and whimpers from her lips.

"Yes, just like that," James breathed into his neck, hand tugging at his hair to free more skin from him to ravage. The point of his tongue pressed against his pulse and sent him hurtling closer to his finish.

In turn, adding urgency to his strokes, feeling Lily clench around him. "Yes, that's it, love. Come for me," Sirius, when their rhythm fell apart. All of them yearning for their release.

"You look so pretty, Lils. I need to see you come around his cock for me," James grunted, having stilled inside of Sirius, moving with him as he thrust they thrust in her.

It took less than a handful of strokes for her to finally give in. crying out wordlessly. Convulsing around Sirius who could not hold it any longer. The orgasm washed over him in waves, one after another pulling him under in a pool of pleasure. Just when the feeling seemed to subside a little, James at last joined them.

They were left a tangle of limbs and a chorus of pants that slowly morphed into tired laughers once the fog had cleared. Leaving all three of them content, sated and spent. Only moving enough to lay side by side, legs still intertwined.

A confusing, but very welcome end to what he had thought would be a disappointing night.