#only to hurry away once i loudly asked why he was talking to my children

[barovianbitches]

Sticks and Stones - Bettany Blackstarr

“I HATE IT HERE!” Bettany screamed, The six-year-old had marched into the cottage and thrown his school bag onto the floor with a clatter. In the kitchen, Hazuleth and Arteana jumped at the commotion, turning their large feathered heads toward the arrival of their fuming son.

Hazuleth was the first to note several large welts speckled on his pale skin, Arteana was more concerned with his tattered trousers and muddied shirt. “Oh, little one, what happened?” Hazuleth asked, setting down her rolling pin as she hurried towards her son, attempting to cup his face in her hands. Bettany pouted, angrily stepping away, tears brimming in his butterscotch-golden eyes.

“I’m never going to school again!” Bettany stated, huffing before marching towards the stairs and loudly stomping to his bedroom on the second floor. The two women could hear the door slam behind him, as the ivy vines that grew around the house wilted slightly.

Arteana cast a bitter look at Hazuleth, returning to the kitchen to do the dishes. “I told you sending him to school was a bad idea.” 

Hazuleth scoffed, “He’s a sharp boy, dear, There was only so much the two of us could have taught him- he was already out-reading the two of us combined when he was four years old!” 

Arteana turned to Hazuleth, throwing her hands in the air, “his education wasn’t why I didn’t want him to go!” she snapped, “Come off it, Hazuleth! You and I both know that others find him strange!”

Hazuleth frowned, setting down her cookware once again to cross her arms and look at Arteana. “The town accepts him, everyone in the village pays him no mind, he’s our son.” Arteana hooted, “Come on, you’d have to be a bloody idiot to think that. People talk behind closed doors, dear. While they allow him to live here, there’s no doubt in my mind that they’d rather not have a little druid human boy running around in their village. The town and the elders accept him, sure, but they don’t like him.” Hazuleth clicked her beak, her feathers ruffling with annoyance, “Oh hogwash.”

The snowy owl slammed the wooden spoon she’d been scrubbing into the sink, turning towards her wife.

“It is confirmed by how the children treat him… why else would children be so cruel to another child had their parents not instilled that value in them? The children act how their parents talk behind closed doors”  Arteana insisted, “for the gods’ sake, people talk and children listen.”

Hazuleth bristled before sighing in surrender, “You’re right… It just breaks my heart to see him treated this way.” Hazuleth’s head tilted towards the ceiling where the sounds of Bettany slamming and clanking around his bedroom could be heard from above.

Arteana took a deep breath, “I’ll talk to him,” she said as she made to leave.

“No,” Hazuleth held up a taloned hand, stopping Arteana, “let me handle this, dear.”

Arteana hesitated, but eventually caved with a curt nod, returning to her task as Hazuleth began to scale the cork-screw staircase.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛯☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hazuleth knocked softly on Bettany’s door, he didn’t respond- but the furious scuttering behind the door confirmed that he was in fact in his bedroom. Hazuleth closed her beak and turned the handle, stepping into her son’s room.

Bettany’s room was a reflection of who he was, small but vibrant. 

Projects lay strewn about in varying stages of completion. That being said, the room wasn’t in disarray, it was an organized chaos of sorts. Bookshelves lined the walls, a ladder leading to his bed which was nested atop one of the larger bookstacks near the room’s large domed window. A large plant stretched its thin rooty tendrils down from the ceiling, its berries casting a lovely golden glow.

The walls that weren't covered floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves were covered in drawings. Bettany was a shy boy and seldom shared his illustrations with anyone, they instead ended up on his walls. Charcoal sketches of plants, fungi, trees,  and various creatures Bettany had found exploring the bordering Neverwinter Wood collected in his room.

Hazuleth felt her heart swell as her eyes fell onto a picture Bettany had drawn that was clearly of himself, Arteana, and her. 

Hazuleth was quickly distracted by the sound of a large object slapping on the oak floors. Bettany had moved a large rucksack out of his closet and had begun hurling clothes, paper, leather, and anything else he could get his chubby hands on.

“I’m not going back, I give up. From now on I’m going to go live in the woods with my friends.” Bettany didn’t look at her, instead focusing on shoving multiple day’s worth of clothing into a wicker basket.

Hazuleth frowned, she knew that her son’s “friends” were a myriad of potted plants that he kept in his bedroom. These plants had grown astronomically in size, their roots curving out of their terracotta containers and curling on the floor in massive tubes, their leaves and flowers had become the size of dinner plates. Most noticeable was how the once dainty rose now filled up an entire corner of the room, its stem thick with thorns the size of longswords, the sharp points threatening to skewer anything that got close to it. Despite how nerve-racking these plants had become, Hazuleth chose to pay it no mind- this sort of thing happened when Bettany got agitated. Plants seemed to follow his lead, mirroring whatever strong emotion he was feeling.

“I understand,” Hazuleth sighed, sitting down and helping Bettany pack, much to his surprise.

“Your friends would absolutely love the open air, the fresh breeze? Oh, it’d be paradise!” Hazuleth chirped, “But I worry they might get cold… what if they get hungry and can’t find something to eat?”

Bettany froze, halting in his mission as he turned to Hazuleth, “They photosynthesize for their food.” he squeaked.  

Hazuleth nodded, “Of course, my mistake… still, what if they get lonely? What if they miss their pots and the other plants they know?” Bettany bit his lip, frowning.

“Maybe they’d realize that when things get tough it’s nice to have a place you can belong?” Hazuleth turned Bettany’s chin to face her. 

“I don’t think you’re talking about my plants anymore, Ma,” Bettany noted. “You’re such a smart boy, little one,” Hazuleth laughed, clucking as she took in her son’s big golden eyes gleaming  in contrast to his pale face and dark hair, “So handsome as well.”

Bettany’s face darkened as memories from earlier that evening returned to him, “They don’t think so… they think I’m a freak. Zombie Boy they called me… because I was almost dead when you found me. They said I still look dead, like a walking corpse…” Bettany’s eyes filled with tears as he started to pack his bags again. Hazuleth grabbed a hold of his hands, gently restraining him from further packing.

“They said I should’ve died,” Bettany whimpered, “that I’d be better off as dust.” Hazuleth felt her heart break into pieces for her boy, and she pulled him in tight, slowly rocking him back and forth in her arms.

“Oh, my child…” Hazuleth spoke over his shoulder. Her beak clicked as she pondered her response

“You make the world better, my Bettany.” Hazuleth soothed, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He sniffed and didn’t meet her eyes until his chin was tilted up by a feathered hand. “You are strong… you are a survivor. You are anything but a corpse, you are alive, my son.” Hazuleth insisted, her eyes crinkling upwards as she gazed upon Bettany.

“You’re alive.” 

[momomomma2]

I’ve been 5′11 since I was in high school and built like a linebacker thanks to my father’s genetics. I do not look like I would be meek or shy. I have worn my mask every single time I have left the house for the past 4 months (before it had swept across Ohio because I knew it was coming and I have 2 immunocompromised individuals in my home), and my masks are designed so both my children and I can wear them. They have funny faces on them, basically giving me the look of an emoji. 

Do you know how often anti-mask people have started shit with me about it? Zero times. Because I do not fit their idea of someone who can be antagonized. All this bullshit about them trying to convince people to follow their rhetoric because they want to “save others from tyranny” is a pile of steaming horseshit. If it was true, as the primary person in my household who leaves for necessities, I would have a couple stories under my belt about run-ins with these morons. 

I. Do. Not. They harass people who they feel can be victimized. People they think won’t put up a fight. They’re the same bullies who picked on the loners in school because they knew they had a better chance at winning. 

I’m going to give everyone who might encounter these assholes the same advice I give my very petite children, who look like I must’ve somehow adopted them given their blonde hair, blue eyes, and thin build. You do not have to be nice. You can scream, fuss, cause a scene. Because polite people can be taken advantage of far too easily. 

There is no such thing as being nice to someone who wants to beat you down. 

[calummss]

Hannah and Pauline’s Justice | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: the peaky blinders listened to the problems of people and helped them. but would they help you? a caretaker at st. hilda’s orphanage?

words: 2.4k

a/n: this is based on the short clips at the start of episode 3 season 5. mentions of racism and suicide but nothing too brutal. i named the abbess margaret. this, just like any other of my stories, is fiction.

‘Frances, Louise, and Alice, no running in the halls.’ Your heels echoed through the hallway that connected all the rooms at St. Hilda’s Orphanage.

‘Yes, Miss Robinson.’ Their voices giggled in union. Cuties.

You were on your way to the abbess—head of the nuns, in this old, creepy castle. You would lie if you denied that she didn’t frighten you. She had this very weird aura from the moment you started working there and always looked at you in a weird way you couldn’t describe. Perhaps it was the fact that you weren’t a nun, or a religious girl, but simply a girl from Birmingham that worked there.

You started to lose your faith after the war. Your father always had been a kind and generous man whose mind was filled with futuristic ideals, but once he returned from war you weren’t even sure if he was your father at all. He became aggressive and loud, like he had experienced from the field marshal and generals. You prayed for him every day and every night and were considered a good catholic girl, but God ignored every cry you let out. Your father shot himself in the head the following year. That’s when you stopped believing. You got offered a job at St. Hilda’s orphanage since they were low on staff and you desperately longed for a job to help support your family.

You walked into the office of Sister Margaret and saw that she was filling out a document; a new child must’ve arrived today.

Ahem, you cleared your throat loudly to let the Sister know you were in her presence.

She looked up through her spectacles with a grim look on her face and sat up. ‘Miss Robinson,’ her forcibly nice voice making it clear that she did not want to talk to you.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your morning, Sister,’ you muttered, carefully hurrying to the seat opposite her before she could send you away. ‘I was wondering if I could just have a moment of your time.’

‘Make it count.’ Her eyes wandered back to the stack of papers.

You cleared your throat again before voicing your worry. ‘I was on wash-up call last night when I noticed that Hannah was the only one using a different soap and sink.’

Sister Margaret’s eyes continued to stay focused on the paper.

‘I asked Hannah why she wasn’t washing up with the other children and she told me you told her to. And that if she wouldn’t, she’d be kicked out of St. Hildas.’

‘Yes, that is what I said.’ She tonelessly said.

‘May I ask why?’

‘Look at the child.’

What on earth was she talking about. As far as you knew, Hannah was a normal girl with no illness nor showed any signs.

‘Is Hannah sick?’ You raised your eyebrows and lids. ‘Should we call a doctor?’

‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ Her voice just as toneless as before.

‘But then where’s the problem?’ You looked at her with curious eyes. She stared at you like you were some kind of idiot. Or that you ought to know. ‘Is th-‘

‘The child is black.’ Sister Margaret cut you off before you could bring your sentence to an end. ‘We don’t want her to mix her filth with the other children.’

You couldn’t believe what she just said and sat motionless in your chair.

‘She’s a child.’

‘A black child.’

Again, you didn’t say a thing.

‘Is that all, Miss Robinson?’

You stared at her before slightly jolting out of your trans-like state. You smiled at her, ‘Yes, that is all.’ As soon as your feet stepped out of her office it dropped. But before you could even think about it for another second, a group of girls scurried towards you.

‘Girls,’ you dropped to your knees seeing their worried and terrified faces. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s Pauline!’ Eloise blurted out after a few seconds. She was breathing heavily and you started to become just as terrified.

‘What happened to Pauline?’ Your voice had become more stern with the understanding of the seriousness of the situation. ‘Tell me right now!’

The girls brought you to the closet door where the girl took her own life. You swallowed a huge lump in your throat, trying not to cry and shake up the girls even more. You told them to leave and to not return until you instructed them otherwise. In the lifeless girl’s hand was a crumpled piece of paper that you extracted and read.

‘I’m scared of Sister Margaret and what she might do to me.’

The rest of the note was filled with words you could barely make out with the tears that pooled your eyes.

It’s been weeks since that day happened and you thought every day what you could do to help these poor girls. You weren’t a police officer, or a lawyer, or anyone that could make a difference. And that’s when you remembered it. Your friend once told you that a group named the Peaky Blinders took the concerns of people and helped them out. You heard a bit about them having lived in Birmingham yourself and you never actually met them. Were you really going to seek help from a gang? It was the only way you could think could make a difference—if there’s only a slight chance it might work then that’s all it took to convince you. You needed help and you’d take any you could get.

It’s been a while since you stood back on the familiar ground of dirt and crap of Small Heath. The last time you were here was last year when you went out with friends. The Garrison was the only pub in proximity that allowed women. It seemed that everyone, well almost everyone around here was more tolerant of futuristic view points.

You walked up to the Garrison hearing the chatting and laughter of people enjoying their time off work for the day. It was still daytime but that wouldn’t stop anyone. You opened the door, stepped into the room and scanned the place to look for someone that seemed gangster enough in your eyes, yet everyone looked ordinary. A ginger-haired bartender that was tending to a group of men noticed you awkwardly standing in the doorway.

‘Anything for the lady?’ He said loudly.

You gave him a polite smile before walking to the counter so that you wouldn’t have to shout at him from across the room.

‘Sorry, I’m not here to drink,’ you said and his eyebrows grew apart. ‘I heard that the Peaky Blinders live here. Do you know their leader?’ You said unsure.

‘Thomas Shelby?’ The bartender somehow answered and questioned at the same time.

‘I guess that’s him,’ you chuckled. ‘Are you able to lead me to him? I heard that they occasionally listen to the concerns of their peers and help them.’

‘That is true.’ He started to wash up the dirty glasses that were starting to fill up the counter. ‘But they have certain days for that and today it 100% isn’t…’

‘Please, Sir.’ You begged. You were so desperate. You had to meet him. ‘I swear I’ll give you money,’ you crammed in your purse. ‘Anything!’

He looked at you like you were crazy and maybe you were in this moment.

‘Fine.’ He threw his towel over his shoulder. ‘But don’t tell him who gave you his address.’

You nodded your head vigorously and listened carefully to what the bartender had to say, and minutes later you stood in front of an ordinary house just like the rest that lined up the street. You knocked on the door and waited for someone to open the door. The door swung open with a little more force than usual and in front of you must’ve been one of the most handsome men you’ve seen around Small Heath. He was dragging from his cigarette, the smoke as grey as some of the hairs on the side of his head. He was staring you up and down in a very judgy way.

‘Yes?’ He said in a rude tone, but being fair you stood there for a few solid seconds saying nothing.

‘Are you Thomas Shelby?’ You asked carefully. You didn’t want to ask the wrong man.

He nodded anticipating what you disturbed him for.

‘Mr. Shelby,’ you cleared your throat which you realised became quite the habit. ‘I was told that people can voice their problems to you and,’ your eyes wandered into the back of the room where three more men sat and a woman who seemed a bit older. ‘your gang.’ You gave him a quick smile.

‘We don’t take concerns today.’

‘But it’s important.’

‘That’s what they all say.’ He turned away from you and tried to slam the door in your face but your foot was caught between the door frame and door before it could shut completely. You silently winced out in pain before prying the door open again and strutting towards an unoccupied seat. The rest just looked at you amusingly.

‘Get out of my house, now.’ Mr. Shelby said grimmily.

‘Not until you hear me out.’ You made yourself comfortable.

His face was almost emotionless, maybe just a hint of anger and annoyance could be read if one knew the situation.

‘Or do you just pretend to care about the people you were once part of?’ You questioned back at him, your tone reproachful.

The others turned their heads in Thomas’ direction waiting for him to counter back at you but he never did. In return he let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the sofa opposite you.

‘What can I do for you Mrs. …?’

‘Miss Robinson.’ You put emphasis on ‘miss’.

‘What can I do for you, Miss Robinson?’ He fake-smiled at you, his hand gestured towards you whilst the other fed him that nasty addiction of his.

‘I read that you have an orphanage under your order…rule, whatever you want to call it. I’m from St. Hila’s Orphanage.’

Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘You came here to tell us what we already know and that you work for one as well…?’

‘They don’t celebrate Christmas or receive a small sweet on their birthday. It’s like a detention center. All the children are afraid of those wicked nuns.’ You rambled on in anger. You had bottled up these concerns since the day you started working there and it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders the moment you told someone else about the horrendous conditions.

You heard a few chuckles and sneers but you ignored them.

‘And what do you want us to do?’ He gave you a genuine smile this time but with the reasoning being amusement.

‘I heard that the Peaky Blinders are so great and help the people that can’t help themselves. Thomas Shelby, Mr. Right, always doing good things. Is this not the right thing to do?’ You crossed your legs and helped yourself to a glass of liquid that was sitting on top of the side table.

‘You want us to help because a few celebrations got cancelled?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ you laughed off sarcastically. ‘I forgot that gangs like violent stuff.’ You shook your head lightly.

All they did was continue to stare at you.

‘What are you implying?’ The woman opposite you said harshly.

‘This poor child that has done nothing wrong and was merely born with darker skin is being treated like some contaminated animal and is forced to wash with different soap and a different sink.’ You snapped. ‘Another black child hung herself in fear of what the Sisters might do to her. Children are beaten with bricks and have their meals taken away from them for days if they step out of line, which by the way is never justifiable.’ You took a few seconds to get some air. ‘Are you such a gangster that you don’t have time to care about children?’ You asked him in a nicer tone before shooting back the rest of the drink you picked up before.

Someone cleared their throat but no one said a word.

‘Do you have a child, Mr. Shelby?’

‘I do.’ He answered.

‘How would you feel if they did those things to him?’ Your voice started to shake as you saw that no one moved or said anything and that coming here was useless.

‘If you won’t do anything,’ you stood up and dusted off your dress before putting your jacket back on, ‘I will.’

‘And what will you do?’ The man that gave nothing but smirks the entire time, asked.

‘I’m going to kill all the sisters.’ You snickered seriously, your emotions filled with resentment.

‘Not smart to tell someone with connections to the Coppers that you’re going to kill.’ Thomas put out his cigarette and raised his eyebrows.

Your eyes scanned the room again, trying to see if you could tell if he would actually report you.

‘No one’s going to do or get justice on the children’s behalf,’ your voice was stern but everyone could tell that you felt let down. ‘I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in jail or getting sentenced to death for the right thing.’

Thomas Shelby and the others looked at you rather impressed at this point.

‘Well, I best be going then,’ you put your handbag on your arm. ‘Thank you for absolutely nothing.’ You smiled and went to reach for the door but just as you were about to twist the doorknob, Thomas grabbed your hand tightly, unabling you to do anything more. You looked up at him so see the corner of his lips slightly raised.

‘Miss Robinson,’ he continued to keep your hand covered with his. ‘I don’t think a lady like yourself should end up in jail. Have you ever even killed someone?’

‘No,’ you looked down, ‘but there’s a first time for everything.’ You grinned with half the pride one should have. ‘I’m getting justice, Mr. Shelby. With or without you.’

‘With us.’ He said.

You smiled in response

‘But not today, Miss Robinson. Give it a few days.’

‘Fine, but I really need to get going.’

‘If we get there and there are dead bodies on the floor you’ll go to jail.’ He made fun of you.

‘Then you better hurry up.’ You smiled one more time before opening the door and walking back to your car. These were going to be hard days until the Peaky Blinders would stop by to get these girls justice.

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Watchful Tyrion

Part 3

The Lion's Bride

Tyrion's POV

Wandering the halls of Winterfell I had to admit it was much better than the streets of King’s Landing. It's quiter and doesn't smell so bad. I had spoken with Jon Snow the bastard of Lord Stark in the stables the other night. Running a hand through my curly hair I turned the corner knocking on my brother's chamber door. It takes a few minutes before he opened the door his hair tousled about in a mess. "Brother, what are you doing here?" He questioned with a yawn as I entered his room closing the door and pouring myself some wine. "I saw you last night, the girl with red curly hair."

My brother sat down on the bed running a hand through his hair still half asleep. "You were spying on us?" Shacking my head I slip some of my wine leaning against the table. "No I was simply talking with the bastard Jon Snow. And it just so happened I saw you two run off." Jaime gets to his feet changing into a tunic and trousers grabbing his sword heading for the door. "You're in a hurry whatever for, brother?" I asked finishing my drink following him through the hallway where he ended up standing outside one of the Stark children's chambers. "Do you even know her name?" He glanced down at me answering before the door opened allowing me to be graced with the eldest Stark daughter who smiles. "Juliet, her name is Juliet, brother."

Juliet's POV

Opening my door I see Jaime and a dwarf who I can only guess I'd Tyrion because he has similar looks to Jaime. I curtsye even though I'm dressed in a tunic and trousers with a sword at my hip. My curls braided down my back. "No need for that, my lady. It's nice to meet you, I'm Tyrion." He extended his hand and I shake it with a grin glancing up to his oldet brother too. "It's nice to meet you too, Tyrion. Shall we?" Jaime let's me guide the way since I know where we won't get caught. The place that Arya and her friend go to practice sword training in secret. Drawing my sword Jaime followed slowly raising it to me. "Since your dominant in your right hand like I am. I'll go easy on you at first." He lightly swings for me but I pressed my sword roughly against his. "Don't go easy on me, Lannister. I'm not a damsel in distress."

Jaime pushed away spinning on his feet trying to hit me in the side but I swing my sword hitting his. Stepping back from him I try spinning my sword in my hands but fumbled a little. He lowered his sword, moving my arm gently to bend more. "Just twist your wrist more than your whole arm, Juli." Blinking my eyes quickly I blurted out the question never having anyone give me a nickname. "Juli?" Jaime rubs the back of his neck his cocky demeanor disappeared right before me. "I didn't mean to - I'm sorry Juliet." Putting my sword in its holder I rest my hands on his shoulders making him make eye with me. "I find it cute to be honest." He weakly smiled drawing his sword once more and I draw mine running forward towards him and he ran too having our swords aggressively hit one another. I have to admit he doesn't seem as bad as mother makes him out to be.

Tyrion's POV

Strolling the halls I hault in my tracks hearing the voices of Lord and Lady Stark alongside King Robert talking in the dining room. Pressing my ear up against the door I try and make out the conversation. "Ned, I'm not ready to let her go. Especially when you are leaving to become Hand to him." Lady Stark spoke to her husband who replied back to his wife. "I know Cat darling. But she is old enough for marriage now." King Robert sighs loudly through the door and I started to walk away until he spoke about my family. "Lisen, Ned, Cat. I'm not the one asking for this union. Tywin Lannister is the one who wants an alliance with the North." Pressing my hands on the stone wall near the door I whispered in a growl. "Why, why me!" Needed to know why father would wed me off without telling me. But the king of the seven kingdoms doesn't declare my name. "He wants your eldest to marry his son. He will be stripped of his Ser tilte and marry her. But only if you agree shall she marry Jaime Lannister."

Tyrion knows about the engagement

What should Juliet name her direwolf?

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[cleverhyuck]

helloooooo <33 can i request for 10 and 24 + jeno or jaemin ? :3 - anon

a/n : i’m assuming you want smut — sorry this is a little late too !— thank you for your request !! 💘

* smut begins on page divider !!

-

“don’t test me”

“stop being a bitch”

-

warnings : outdoor sex , degrading , quickie , marking ( hickeys ) , mentions of pregnancy , light choking , creampie , raw ( use protection ^.^ )

wc : royal!au , why is this so long

-

annual balls are a thing. men and women from all over dress up at talk about who knows what. their children mingle around, looking for friends, competitors, significant others, it’s a routine.

in the kingdom, you’ve been going to monthly balls. meeting people of all kinds. some men try to be your husband and some women try to gossip around you.

you don’t mind, of course. the attention is nice, but it’s what you get for being the daughter of the king.

your first encounter with prince!jeno was interesting to say the least. accidentally spitting your drink onto him from laughing at prince chenle’s joke. both of your eyes go wide as you ruined his white blazer with your red fruit punch, splattered all over.

“it looks like he’s been murdered !!” prince chenle points. the other princes; renjun, jaemin, and jisung laugh. prince jeno froze, this has never happened to him ever.

you rush to find napkins ( more like a maid ) and try to clean it. all five of you headed back to the maid quarters to find extra clothes. “i’m sorry” is what you say the whole entire time while cleaning and moving.

in the quarter, prince jeno sends you an eye smile. something about it comforts you, it makes you feel better about what happened.

“seriously princess, don’t worry.” he chuckles and takes off the jacket. some of it is on his button up so he takes that off too, revealing his nice six pack.

your eyes go wide (again) and you can only stare at his chest. prince renjun has to shake you to get your own head out of the gutter. you and prince jeno both blush and you turn away, afraid to make another embarrassing moment.

prince jisung walks next to you and pats your back. “don’t worry princess, at least we all got closer now! let’s drop the formalities.” you look up at him with rosy cheeks and smile.

turning around and holding out a hand you re-introduce yourself. “hi i’m y/n. nice to meet you all.”

over the months you all grew closer together. you met another boy, haechan. he wasn’t at the first party but said he lived it through renjun’s text messages.

you and jeno were especially close. people made dating rumors over you, but you two were just friends.

friends that kiss.

friends that make-out sometimes, friends that have seen each other naked, friends that have snuck out to kiss…

call it friends with benefits, call it being close, jeno preferred to call it “no labels”

even so, jeno was always protective. never letting you talk to another prince for too long, having his hand around your waist most times.

-

as another ball was announced, you decided to have some fun with jeno. a beautiful soft pink dress with a longer than normal thigh slit. the collars of the dress laid on your shoulders, revealing most of your top chest. you looked beautiful. stunning.

this would sure rile him up.

as the guests arrived you welcomed them with hugs and side kisses. once the group arrived, you went for jisung instead of jeno.

pulling him into a hug, you say “i missed you sungie, christ you’ve grown taller too!” you look at him. he smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “thanks noona, but it’s only been a few weeks since i last saw you!”

“a few weeks too long, let’s hang out sometime soon jisung. ride horses on thursday?” you suggest to him. “you bet” he replies.

“ahem.”

turning you see the boys and jeno. “are you guys jealous i didn’t talk to you yet??” you fake whine. chenle shrugs. “why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

“he’s not my-”

“im not her-”

chenle looks at you both. “yeah, sureeee” before leaving to find other guests. jaemin pats jeno’s back while renjun pats yours.

haechan moves you and jeno closer by your shoulders and shakes his head. “good luck.” is all he says to the both of you before walking past you.

“so..” you say, not making eye contact. jeno eyes you up and down before leaning in close to your ear. “don’t test me, princess”

-

the party is going pretty well. jeno and his stares never leave you though. you dance with haechan most of the time. laughing and giggling over whatever while jeno looks like he’s about to break the champagne glass.

haechan totally understands your want to tease jeno and helps you tremendously with that. it’s not like jeno would take you away from the haechan, right? in the dance, you two start doing every extra moves. the crowd backs up a bit and watches you two.

graceful steps and spins have everyone enticed. as it comes to an end, haechan spins you and lifts one of your legs up, he holds onto your lower thigh, revealing the dangerous slit.

as the crowd applauses, you look over at jeno. i swear to god he has the most evil look on his face u cant even explain.

you smile to yourself and move off of haechan, whispering a slight thank you before heading over to where jeno was standing.

“let’s go.” is all he says before grabbing you, practically yanking you outside.

* “stop being a bitch” he says as he manhandles you onto a tree.

“i wasn’t being or acting like anything.” you say. he scoffs and yanks the shoulder straps down your elbow, revealing your strapless bra.

“jeno!” you squeal at him. you quickly ㅡ cover your breasts by crossing your arms but he grabs them and holds them behind the tree.

“stop squirming” he says as hestarts kissing over your chest. jeno leaves miscellaneous hickeys all over and the only thing you can do is throw your head back and moan.

“let’s hurry this up.”

pushing up your dress he parts your underwear and pushes two fingers in. you hiss at his urgency but soon you’re dripping down his knuckles.

moans and whimpers erode from you and jeno smiles at that. before you can cum on his fingers he takes them out and pushes them into your mouth.

“suck.”

as you do, he uses his other hand to loosen his pants. pulling out his member, he strokes it. your legs subconsciously move and he takes his fingers out of your mouth.

“you like watching me stroke myself?” jeno questions. you shyly nod. “fuck.” he whispers. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

as he aligns with your entrance, you are preparing for the girth that is jeno’s cock. he teases at your slit before pushing in.

you immediately clench around him and moan into his ear. he slowly moves back out before sending a deep thrust into you. “harder..please” you whimper in his ear.

you wrap your arms around his neck as he is pistoning inside of you. your boobs jiggle at the harshness of his thrusts and you soon feel close.

“jeno i’m, i-i’m” you mutter out. he understands and goes harder and faster. “you like that?” he leans in your ear.

“you like being treated like a little slut?”

as your eyes go wide the feeling inside of you bursts. you cum on his cock and moan a little too loudly. the tightness inside you causes jeno to cum as well, the spurts of his cum fills your insides.

as he pulls out, jeno kisses your forehead. he helps you clean up and look like you haven’t had the best fuck of your life.

right as you two walk back inside to the party he looks at you.

“you know i love you right?” he asks.

“i love you too jeno.”

—

send me a prompt!

[hello-everyfandom]

“Sirius loves all the attention,”

Warnings: Mentions of violence, angst

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 1.7k

Summary: James Potter’s sister, Y/N, opens the front door to find Sirius Black covered in blood and bruises.

Part Two “Everything between us is a moment”

(Angst! Send in requests please!!!)

“Y/N, dear, set the table, will you?” your mother called from the kitchen door, you groaned and stood up from the living room couch. 

“Why does James never have to set the table?” you whined,

“The answer is obvious,” James smirked as you looked at him with annoyance in your eyes, “I’m the favorite,” your brother shrugged innocently. You thumped him on the back of the head with your book earning an “Oi” in response.

“More like a big baby,” you huffed and began to set the table with four plates.

“Dinner is ready, dear!” your mother rang to your father who folded his newspaper and placed a kiss on your mother’s plump cheek.

“Gross,” James complained as he plopped down in the dining room chair. 

“Just because you don’t understand the circumstances and actuality of love and are too dimwitted to treat Lily Evans like a human doesn’t mean you can judge other’s on how they express affection,” you teased,

“Just because you don’t understand the circumstances of blah-di-blah-di blah,” James mimicked you in a high pitched, overdramatized voice.

“Will you stop acting like a child?” you hissed, 

“Will you stop acting like a child?” James mimicked back. You turned to your mother exasperated,

“Mum, can you please tell James to stop making fun of me,”

“Mum, can you please tell James to stop making fun of me, boo-boo blah blah- blah.” 

Your father rubbed his forehead and your mother rolled her eyes and smiled at her children,

“James, I swear to merlin if you don’t stop,”

“James, I swear to merlin if you don’t stop,”

You mimicked his voice back, creasing your eyebrows and pouting your lips, “I’m James Potter, I’m a right prat who can never get a girlfriend because I’m too in love with my own face,”

James leaned towards you and flipped his nonexistent long hair, “I’m Y/N, I love to correct people and take the fun out of everything because I’m a lonely know-it-all and nothing else brings me joy,”

The two of you sneered at each other and turned to your helpless mother again, “Mum!” you begged her to be on your side of the argument,

“Ah yes, Fleamont, ‘let’s have children, better yet, let’s have two,’” your mother sighed and shook her head comically, placing her hand on her husband’s shoulder to hold.

“I never said it would be easy, darling,” he replied.

“Stop it, James, shove off!” You pushed his forearm so you could make room for yourself,

“Stop it, James!” He mimicked again, 

“I mean it, you nitwit, stop it.”

“Stop it!” James heightened his voice. In the distance, beyond your anger and annoyance for James, you heard a thump at the door. No one else seemed to notice it. Your mother had just poured herself a glass of water and your father was asking what was for supper. But, you heard the soft knock at the door.

“Is someone...? Seriously James, stop it.” you shoved him again,

“Seriously, James, stop it,” you attempted to listen for the knock again, concentrating and narrowing your eyes. 

“Mum, are we expecting anyon- James!” you growled and slapped James’ bicep, “shut up!” you focused on the sound,

“Shut up!” James whined, 

“No, seriously James. Shut the hell up!” Your mother was about to scold you when the entire Potter family heard the loud fist-sized thumps at the door. You stood up, sending James a glare for being a bloody idiot and paced towards the door. You flung open the front door expecting to see perhaps a mailman or your neighbor who had lost her kitten once again. You, however, did not expect to see Sirius Black, bloodied and bruised, and nearly unconscious leaning on your front door frame. You gasped loudly and quickly placed yourself under his armpit to support him,

“James!” you called, “Mum, grab the plasters, James, come help me.” James turned quickly at your gasp and sprung up making his chair fall back.

“Sirius!” he yelled, racing towards you and helping you carry Sirius in from the evening rain. The two of you laid your best friend on the living room couch, searching for his wounds, not minding the blood on your hands. Your father retrieved his wand and began to attempt to heal Sirius’ deep wounds resulting in him shutting his eyes and wincing. His eyes were squeezed shut and he bit his lip as his forehead creased in pain. His shirt was ripped and you could make out the scratches and burns on his side.

“What do we do?” you asked James, you could see your elder brother was scared but he squeezed your hand tightly and turned his eyes towards Sirius,

“He’ll be okay,” James’ hoped. Sirius’ eyes flung open and stared at the Potter family. He began stuttering, frightened and out of control,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. ‘m boy, calm down,” your father tried to reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “lay still, the wounds are still deep,”

“Is he alright?” Your mother hurried in, bandages in one hand and her wand in the other as well as a towel, she put a loving hand on his forehead and rubbed the towel in order to gain some warmth into him. You’ve never seen Sirius so distraught, so vulnerable. His eyes were terrified and he continued to fidget on the couch. Your chest dropped, seeing him like this made you want to throw plates and glass at the wall.

“I’m sorry-” Sirius cried in pain and embarrassment, “I- he, James, James said if it were ever too much, to- to come here, but I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but I-” Sirius cried out again making you grip James’ arm.

Your father glanced worriedly at your mother and said, “Son, calm down. It’s quite alright, we’re glad you’re here where you’re safe.” he turned to his two children and said, “children, quickly, leave us be with Sirius. Your mother and I must ask him some questions. Run the kettle,” and hurried you two out of the living room and into the kitchen.

“What happened to him?” you asked your brother, attempting to shake the fear from your face and placing the kettle on the stove.

“I-” James began, combing his fingers through his messy hair, “It was his god-awful family, I presume.”

You gasped and shook your head, “they did that to him?” you said, angrily.

“I believe so.”

“And you told him he could come here if it-”

James nodded, “If it ever became too much.”

The two of you peeked out from the kitchen door to see your father sitting next to Sirius, a solemn and serious look on his face. Your mother stood, a tear down her face as Sirius whispered to him what had happened to him at Grimmauld Place. 

“I want to kill them,”

“Me too,” James agreed.

“I’m scared,” you admitted to your older brother, he turned and wrapped his brotherly arms around you. The pair of you instantly forgot your insignificant quarrel from earlier and focused solely on Sirius. 

“Me too. But for Sirius’ sake, we need to be brave,” 

Your father approached the kitchen whilst your mother tended to Sirius on the couch, he looked at the two of his beloved children and said, “Sirius is to stay here for the remainder of the summer. He will not be going back to his home. I will send a letter to his mother at once, but there is no way in hell that boy is going back.” James hugged his father instantly before opening the kitchen door and disappearing to see his best friend. You looked at your father, who removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes,

“What happened, dad?” your voice was quiet, afraid to know the answer.

Fleamont Potter shook his head and placed his glasses back on, he pulled you in for a close hug and kissed the top of your head. He was thankful to have you and James in such healthy conditions. “Let’s not talk about it, child. Everything will be okay. Go on and be with your friend,” you kissed your father on the cheek before sneaking into the living room. Your mother saw you as she was leaving and placed a kind hand on your arm before retreating into the kitchen, most likely to talk to your father.

You watched James pull up a chair next to Sirius, two brothers with a stronger bond known to man. 

“Y’know, mate, if you wanted to see me this bad, you didn’t have to have such the dramatic entrance,” James’ joked making Sirius grin,

“You think I wanted to come here? Blimey, no. The inn across town wouldn’t take me, so I thought I’d come to the Potters.” James laughed and shoved Sirius,

“I’m glad you’re alright,” James said seriously,

“Don’t go all sappy on me, Prongs. Only a couple cuts and bruises,”

“Yes, James, don’t go all sappy on him.” You emerged from the shadows and sat on the edge of the couch Sirius was lying on, “Sirius loves all the attention,” 

“Only from you,” even though Sirius was in immense emotional and physical pain, he still found the energy to make you blush.

“Mate, you’ve only been here for a minute and you’re already acting dodgy towards my sister.” The three of you laughed,

“James, can you help bring the tea in?” your mother asked from the kitchen, James stood with no argument and left for the kitchen. Sirius closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the couch. You couldn’t help but stare, his face, though had a bruise and a split lip, was still as handsome as the day you first saw him. 

“I can feel you staring at me, darling,” Sirius opened one eye to peer at you,

“How could I not, you look like shit,” you shot back. Sirius’ eyes were amused before taking hold of your hand in his,

“I’m alright, y’know,”

“I know.” you placed a smile on your face that quickly faded away, “but unfortunately, you have to room with James and we both know he snores.”

Sirius shrugged, “if I can live with him at Hogwarts, I can live with him here,” Sirius squeezed your hand again before kissing your knuckles, “and I certainly don’t mind living with you,”

“I’ll only say it once this summer,” James warned whilst carrying out a tray of tea and biscuits, “hands off my sister.” 

[fandomficsnstuff]

Special - Final Part

Ivar x Reader

(Warnings: Slight violence, but it’s Ivar, so come on, but it’s not towards the reader, tiny fluff at the end, also foreshadowing of Ragnar returning:3 Let me know if ya’ll want another part or want me to turn this into a series<3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You poured Ivar another cup of your special tea, giving him a sweet smile before sitting down in your chair again, looking out the window to see the sun already up, your eyes going back to Ivar as he took a sip of the tea “do you remember when we were children? When I would ask you how badly it hurt, and you’d rank the pain by the Gods? Loki was a good day, Thor was not good but you could manage, Frigg was a day you’d spend in bed, healers around you, and Odin would be a pain so great that not even the healers could help you” you mumbled, seeing a small smile make it’s way onto his perfect lips, his eyes staring into the cup as he gently nodded “I remember” he said, his eyes moving up to catch your gaze, and you couldn’t help the sympathetic look you gave him “today is Frigg, is it not?” you asked with sympathy in your voice, seeing Ivar look back into his cup, not responding, letting you know that you were correct.

You heard voices outside, your head turning towards the door as your father, clearly disheveled from hurrying to the little village your husband-to-be was from, watching him aws he stepped inside, behind him a tall, handsome man, blonde hair and blue eyes, though not as blue as Ivar’s, no one could beat Ivar, no one could match him in beauty, but this man wasn’t far off, you would admit that. You would also admit that you were disappointed, a part of you had hoped that he looked like Ivar, but no, this man was far from the beautiful man sitting across from you, carefully watching you as you for the first time saw your intended husband.

You glanced at Ivar before getting up, walking over to him, seeing him grin sweetly at you “hello… you must be Hans?” you asked as politely as you could, although it wasn’t much, and he noticed, his grin faltering for a second before he forced it to show again, gently taking your hand and kissing the back of it, a sweet gesture that should have made you blush, but you only cringed, not able to hide it, and he saw. “Yes, it is wonderful to meet you, finally” Hans said as politely as possible, and you were about to respond when you heard someone get off of his chair, that someone being the man at the center of your real attention. You turned and looked to Ivar as he crawled over to you, your eyes glancing at Hans, seeing him look smugly down at Ivar, and a part of you wanted to laugh, had he not heard stories? Had he not heard rumors of the youngest Ragnarson? Of the man who you wanted to kiss your hand, instead of Hans, of the man who was a god in your eyes. Ivar threw Hans a smirk “yes, finally, so, do you believe she is worth the price? Because that is what you did, isn’t it? You bought her, like a slave” Ivar’s smirk turned to a death glare as he looked up at Hans, and for some reason, Hans found it amusing “yes, she is beautiful, Ivar” Hans said in a cheerful tone and you cringed again, you could call Ivar by his name, but he was still a prince, and a Ragnarson at that.

Ivar smiled, though you knew it was fake, and chuckled low, crawling back to his chair and pulling himself up, gesturing to another chair for Hans once he was seated. Hans glanced at you, giving you a sweet smile that made you sick to your stomach, watching him slowly move towards Ivar, moving the chair he gestured to, putting it right in front of Ivar before sitting down, placing himself as an equal, a fault you knew Ivar was internally laughing at.

“So, Hans, do you love her?” Ivar asked casually, gesturing to you, and you quietly sighed and looked at your father who had a worried look on his face, turning back and sitting down on a chair besides Ivar, this should be entertaining at least. Hans nodded but did not look pleased that you choose to sit next to Ivar, and not your intended husband, but he choose to focus on Ivar for now “yes, I do-”

“How?” Ivar cut him off, mixing fake confusion in with his calm, relaxed look, making Hans frown “how can you love her? You do not know her, do you? You have not been by her side when she grew up, you were not there when her mother died on a raid, you were not there when she felt alone” Ivar began to grow angry with each word that left his mouth, but he still looked calm and relaxed, something you knew was just a facade, but Hans didn’t, and he let it lull him into a false sense of security “and you were?” Hans asked boldy, making Ivar laugh low “yes, I was. I was there for her when her mother died, I trained her to become a Shieldmaiden” Ivar stated proudly, and you couldn’t help the smirk that formed on your lips, but Hans grew ever unhappy “her? A Shieldmaiden??” Hans asked in disbelief before laughing loudly, something that set off Ivar, and in the blink of an eye, Ivar had a knife buried in Hans’ leg, Hans screaming in pain as Ivar just smirked, watching her carefully “why not? She is strong, stronger than you, beautiful, smart, kind” Ivar explained as if it was the most casual conversation they were having.

Ivar slowly leaned back in his chair, eyes watching Hans as he was about to pull out the knife, but Ivar made a small ‘tsk tsk tsk’ at him, smirking as Hans stopped his movements “I did not say you could pull it out, did I?” Ivar looked at you as he asked, making you chuckle slightly “no, you did not, Ivar. Play nice” you playfully scolded him, making Ivar fake a sad look “why? He does not play nice, why should I?” Ivar asked childishly, making you roll your eyes, amused with his childish behavior, before getting him, moving to Hans and ripping the knife out of his leg, wiping it on your dress and putting it away to clean later, sitting down besides Ivar, who were watching Hans amused. “No, no, what are you doing? Do you not know how hard it is to clean blood up? And you are bleeding over her chair” Ivar sighed dramatically, as if he was talking to the dumbest man in Midgaard, making you chuckle lightly “how would you know, Ivar? You have slaves to do that for you” you teased, making Ivar now give a small ‘tsk’ to you, gently shaking his head “is that how you talk to your Prince?” he asked teasingly, watching as you rolled your eyes again “yes, when he stabs my guests in my house” you answered, turning to look back at Hans, which Ivar did as well, clapping his hands together like he had forgotten that Hans was even there “ah, your guests” Ivar said mockingly, turning back to you again “would you say you would still like to marry him, (Y/N)?” he asked with a fake frown, watching as you scoffed “no, I never did, Ivar” you responded, a small smile on your lips when you saw how his eyes lit up at this, turning his head and looking back at Hans, smirking “well, that solves it, you will not marry this beautiful woman, she deserves someone better, farewell” Ivar mockingly bowed, making you chuckle, watching Hans struggle to get up and rush outside, your father hesitating before following him, probably to help him on his horse.

You sighed and looked back at Ivar, scoffing low, which caught his attention, his blue eyes turning back to you with a confused frown “what?” he asked clueless, making you gently shake your head as you looked down “well, now I will never marry” you mumbled, half joking, half serious, which Ivar caught onto, with his clever mind “what do you mean? Of course you will marry” Ivar sounded almost outraged, making you chuckle and look back at him “with who? No one has asked me, Ivar, no one certainly will after this” you mumbled the last part, looking back down at the table, Ivar’s face softening at your words, frowning as he looked at you with a sad look “marry me” he mumbled, so low that you barely heard it, your head snapping up to look at him with wide eyes, seeing the soft look on his face, the vulnerable look he held as he awaited your response, your reaction. “What?” was all you stupidly could say, and Ivar scoffed, moving to get off his chair, about to leave when you stopped him, but he didn’t meet your eyes, an angry look on his face, probably directed at himself.

You bit your lower lip in thought, before a smile slowly made it’s way onto your lips, “yes” was all you said, watching his head snap towards you, eyes wide in not only confusion, but disbelief. You giggled seeing his look and even more so when his own smile formed, him slowly leaning in, almost unsure, until you met him halfway, letting your lips touch in a sweet, shy kiss, smiles on your lips as you broke away from each other, just in time for your father to enter the house, a surprised look on his face, watching the two of you part from each other. After a small while of silence, you giggled again, unaware of the adoring look Ivar had on his face as you looked to your father “I’m getting married” you said in a cheerful voice, your father looking as confused as ever before smiling, watching you get up and run to him, hugging him tightly in joy and excitement. Ivar couldn’t take his eyes off of you, you were so beautiful to him, he watched the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, watched your lips part as you grinned, everything about you was perfect, and you were going to be his wife, you were going to marry him, not some stupid man who would pay for you, but him, Ivar the Boneless, Ivar the Cripple, or as you called him; Ivar the Special. The thought brought tears of joy to his eyes, and he would tell his brothers on their trip to the hunting cabin tomorrow, he only wishes his father could be there, to hear the news and at his wedding.

[ssadumba55]

Santa’s Not Real (Bernard X Miller!Reader)

A/n: This one was not requested by anyone in particular, but is my own personal contribution to the Bernard catalogue. This was really just an excuse to write the Millers, because Neil is my second favourite character in the series. I’ve been writing for Bernard for three years and just when I thought I’d explored every possibility with him, we all come up with more ideas to keep the love for him alive. I want to thank you all for allowing me to write for such special and sacred movies to us all. I hope I do Bernard even a sliver of justice. Merry Christmas, you guys! Hope we see more Bernard content next year!  Enjoy, you deserve this!

Being the child of Neil Miller wasn’t exactly what you’d call “fun” or “exciting”. He was always trying to get into your mind and figure out how you were feeling. Of course, sometimes it was nice to have your father be so understanding of your emotional needs, other times you wished he’d leave you alone.

At first, when he married Laura, you were worried about the usual kid stuff. Would your dad stop being as attentive to you? Would you and Laura get along? Would you and Charlie get along?

Laura had a son named Charlie. At first, you two were always butting heads. He was a firm believer in Santa Claus, which had never made much sense to you, what teenager still believed in Santa Claus? It was cute and charming when you were both kids, but now it was starting to get a little creepy.

You wondered if your dad was as worried as you. This had to stunt his mental growth or whatever.

“(Y/n). Pass me the glue stick,” Your little sister, Lucy, reached across the table to grab at the sticky tube. You swiped it up and handed it to her.

The two of you were sat at the table, Lucy was doing arts and crafts. You were supposed to be supervising. Laura, Charlie and your father were in the next room having a discussion. You didn’t even need to ask what it was about. Charlie’s father.

You had never met Scott Calvin yourself; you had always refused to participate in family outings involving him, feigning sick or making up other excuses for why you couldn’t go. It wasn’t that you hated the guy, you really had no opinion on him. You just found it weird to hang around with Charlie’s dad, after all Scott and Laura had divorced for a reason, right?

“Uncle Scott is Santa Claus, you know,” Lucy said matter of factly as she glued two pieces of paper together. She said this to you a lot and every time, it annoyed you just a tad bit more. There was no way Charlie’s dad was “Santa Claus”.

“Just because he’s fat and has a beard, does not make him Santa Claus, Luce. Grow up. Santa Claus isn’t even real, it’s just some lie dad and mom made up to get you to go to sleep on time on Christmas Eve, so you won’t see them putting the presents down,” you looked down at the book you were reading. Lucy glared at you from across the table, slamming her glue stick down.

“I’m serious!” She cried out.

“Lucy, (Y/n), Scott will be here soon. Come on out here.”

You rolled your eyes as your little sister hurried out of the kitchen, excitedly yelling about “Uncle Scott”. This was the first time, no matter how many excuses you came up with, your father refused to let you skimp on meeting Scott. His words echoed in your head.

“You’re as much a part of this family as Charlie and Lucy. Scott is an important part of this family, it’s time we finally share that with you.”

Whatever that means.

You followed your sister into the living room, where you could already hear a loud boisterous voice chatting with your family members. You hesitated in the hallway, trying to hear what they were talking about.

“(Y/n)?” Your dad called once more.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you hurried the rest of the way into the living room, pausing as you reached the doorway.

Lucy was already all over her “Uncle Scott”, sitting in his lap and telling him an exciting story. Charlie was leaning forward in his seat, clearly very happy to see his father after not seeing him for so long. Laura and your dad had their arms around each other, sitting on the couch, watching the whole scene with affection.

Then there was somebody else standing beside Scott in his chair. You quietly walked across the room to sit next to Charlie without disturbing the guests. Before you could even get halfway into the room however;

“Who’s this?”

You froze, turning to look at Scott. Of course he would be curious why he’d never seen you around before.

“This is (Y/n), my eldest. They’re Charlie’s age.” Neil explained for you. You wished for a brief moment he wouldn’t do that stuff, you were almost an adult, you could answer simple questions for yourself.

“(Y/n) Miller,” you held your hand out to shake. He shook it and as he did so, you couldn’t help but think about what Lucy had said earlier. Maybe he wasn’t Santa, but he sure did look the part. You looked up to the guy standing beside him.

“Scott Calvin. My right-hand man, Bernard,” he introduced himself and the guy in one fell swoop. He looked a little young to be someone’s right-hand man. He almost looked like he was your age.

“Lucy says you’re Santa Claus. But I don’t believe that. Santa Claus is just a made-up character, there’s no such thing,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. The easy calm that was in the air previously dissipated somewhat as you said that. Scott was the only one who seemed completely unphased by what you said.

“You know what, I don’t blame you, (Y/n), one man delivering presents to all the children in the world,” he shook his head. “Sounds impossible.”

You nodded along with him, clearly, he was a very logical man. You wondered where Charlie got his obsession with Santa from. Clearly not Laura, she was very practical as well.

“But I seem to recall you wanted a dog for your 5th Christmas. And the year after your parents divorced, you wrote to me asking for your mother to come back. Unfortunately there are some things that even Santa can’t fix, though I would’ve loved it if I could,” he explained sympathetically. There was silence in the room.

You had never told anyone what you wrote to Santa that year. Not even your father. How could you tell him to his face that all you wanted was your mother back, after she’d abandoned the both of you? How, then, did Scott Calvin know your biggest childhood wish?

“I…”

“(Y/n)?” Your dad’s voice called from a distance, but you were already climbing the stairs, two at a time. You had to get away from him. He just reminded you of all the pain you’d been through after that divorce. That was the last year you wrote to Santa. That was the year you stopped believing in Santa. Not even Charlie Calvin could convince you after that.

There was a knock on your bedroom door.

You hesitated, opening the door slowly. You were expecting it to be your dad. But it was Bernard, you were pretty sure that’s what Scott had said his name was.

“I offered to come check on you, it’s a lot at first to find out Santa is real. I’m the best at answering questions on this topic,” he offered.

You scoffed loudly. “And what are you, then? An elf?”

“I’m really sorry about your parents, (Y/n), but you seem really happy here. With Neil and Laura. And Charlie and Lucy,” he walked over to your bed, sitting cross legged on top, as if you’d invited him in for a quick friendly chat.

You felt yourself deflate slightly. There was no denying you did miss your mom, even though you saw her occasionally. It wasn’t enough. But at the same time, your father had tried really hard to rebuild a family for you. What more could you ask for?

“Bernard, if you and Scott are really who you say you are, then how does that work?” You asked, uncertainly.

He laughed slightly, standing and patting you on the back. “It’s nice to know we didn’t completely lose you.”

“I’m not saying I believe in Santa-!”

“Too late you already did!”

This guy was going to get on your last nerve, you could already tell but you found yourself laughing as he walked out ahead of you.

Scott really was Santa, Lucy was right. You’d never doubt her again.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Rotten

Pairing: Steve Rogers x princess!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, captivity, forced marriage, brief mention of child abuse, allusion to death of minor characters.

Words: 3950.

Summary: "The princess will marry the very first beggar who comes to the castle gates," the King said.

P.S. This was inspired by König Drosselbart fairytale.

_______________

Staring at the enormously huge black gates separating the castle from the outer world, you pulled the grey cloth over your head, covering your beautiful shiny hair. Before this morning you wore a tiara of your mother, and your dresses were made from brocade, silk and cashmere, not this rough wool that itched so badly and irritated your gentle skin. But now the only posession you were allowed to keep was that little cameo of your mother laying in the pocket of your simple grey dress.

The princess is obstinate, capricious, the King said. She thinks too high of herself. She rejects and ridicules all honourable men coming to ask for her hand in marriage. She is rotten to the core. She doesn't deserve to be the crown princess of the kingdom.

Locked away, abandoned by your teachers, refused to be engaged to any decent prince or lord, you were kept confined to your chamber for several years. Occasionally, you were allowed to visit the celebrations and balls held in the castle only to be laughed at your lack of manners and education by the children of the King and their entourage. You considered them your friends once, but those times had long passed.

You were the only child of the Queen, the true ruler of these lands, who got married the second time after an unfortunate death of her first husband, your father. She didn't give the new King an heir, but he had a handful of his own children from his past marriages. All of them, except his oldest one who stayed to rule the country of his father under the watchful eye of royal advisors, were brought to your kingdom. They are your sisters and brothers, the King said.

They were the ones who would take your place once the King found an opportunity to get rid of you, the true successor to the Queen.

All the men who came to ask for your hand were told you had no desire to meet them, and then, after the brief encounter with the King, they were sent away. You watched them, enraged by this unfair treatment, and their corteges to leave in haste, disappearing behind the black gates. You were never allowed to leave your chamber at these times, forced to look out the window at those princes and lords. If only they knew.

"Bow your head in front of your lawfully wedded husband." One of the guards demanded harshly, and you snapped out of your thoughts, looking at the huge man with wide shoulders, dressed in rags, his face hidden by the hood he wore.

The stranger was twice bigger than the guards surrounding you, and you felt rather intimidated in his presence. Despite his dirty clothes and wooden shoes, he didn't look like a beggar to you. If he was truly so poor, how come his body was so big and strong? No, the man wasn't a beggar. He was a bandit.

It would only make sense for the King to get rid of you, but you hoped he would keep his word as he promised to give you to the very first beggar who came to the castle gates. Apparently, he decided against it. The bandit who stood in front of you would either kill you or sell you to a brothel. If he was paid to end you, you hoped he would at least do it fast.

You bowed your head in front of the stranger who was now your husband and moved forward when the guards pushed you to him. The man said nothing, heading to the gates as if he didn't even care whether you followed him or not. Biting your lip, you came after him, watching your ugly wooden shoes.

However, once you stepped behind the gates, you saw there were dozens of people, their clothes dirty, tattered, and heavily patched, their faces grim - many lacked teeth and some even an eye - their expression turning wicked when they saw you coming after the stranger. Who were they? Beggars? Bandits? Villagers? You didn't know, but feared for your life as they started shouting loudly upon seeing you, and then you saw them throwing something rotten and smelling badly at you.

Why were they doing it? What have you done to them?

"WHORE!" The crowd yelled. "ARROGANT BITCH!"

A boy no older than ten threw a piece of rock at you, and it struck your arm painfully, making you yelp. He was encouraged loudly by the others, and you realized they would beat you to death. Why? What have you done to be so hated? You were a prisoner in your family castle. No one loved you. No one cared for you. No one came to console you even in the darkest of days. Why did you deserve to be punished for something you had never done? Why were you the rotten one when the sons and daughters of the King were spoiled beyond imagination?

Before the next rock hit your head, you saw the stranger shielding you with a big piece of wood he had taken from some man. Holding it like a shield, your husband grasped your shoulders with the other hand and started fighting his way through the crowd as you clinged to him, afraid to raise your head. All you heard were angry shouts and screams of pain as the man crashed their bones with the shield in his hand, the sound of cracking disgusting and frightening. People tried to clench your dress, beat you, snatch away the cloth covering your head, but the stranger was quick to push people away, and soon you two were running somewhere, your vision clouded with tears.

He held your hand in his until you reached the forest behind the meadow, far away from the castle and all those scary people who dirtied your simple woolen clothes and coloured your arms black and blue. Luckily, you were mostly unharmed just like your saviour, the man who hadn't uttered a single word still. At this point you guessed he might be deaf or lacking his tongue - you heard maids talking about the soldiers of the King cutting tongues of the ones who talked against him. But maybe the stranger just didn't want to speak to you. He probably thought you were an arrogant princess, humbled by your pride and haughtiness.

"Thank you." You whispered to him, and the man turned face to you, his beautiful blue eyes watching you intently. "Thank you for saving me."

The tears had long dried out on your face, but your eyes were still a bit red, your voice raspy. Running in the wooden shoes made your feet hurt so bad as if you were running barefoot at all.

When your newly wed husband came closer to you, you flinched involuntary and made a step back, staring at his strangely attractive dirty face, his dark blonde disheveled hair and beard.

"You're safe with me."

You blinked, unsure what to say to him in return. His low husky voice made you tremble a little, but if he told you the truth, he was going to take care of you. You hurriedly averged your eyes and bowed your head again, waiting for him to continue walking. You didn't dare to talk to him once more.

Your had been travelling by foot for what felt like hours, and you felt grateful for the dress you were given as it was lighter with just a few layers of fabric. Your wooden shoes, however, bruised your skin so much that they were slowly filling with blood. Nonetheless, you kept walking even with blisters covering your feet as your husband moved forward without a stop through the forest. Was he living here? Otherwise you didn't know how he navigated through the woods.

"You're slowing us down." You winced when you raised your head and saw him furrowing at you, standing a few feet away.

"I am sorry." You muttered, knowing you could hardly speed up with your legs hurting so much as if you walked into the fire.

The stranger squinted, coming closer, "Take off your shoes."

You complied without saying a word, showing him your bruised feet. Was he going to complain you were a shirker, unable to even walk? Maybe he had it on his mind, but he stayed silent, ripping the hem of your dress when you gasped and wiped the blood away. Then he had you seated on a falling tree and bandaged your feet so gently you gawked at him openly. You felt tears shimmering in your eyes at his kindness. He cared.

"I will carry you from here." Your husband said, wiping away the sweat from his dirty forehead. "We'll make a halt soon."

"I can walk myself." You said when he loomed over you, his strong hands gripping your under your lower back. "Please!"

"No, you can't." He grumbled, shooting you a look that forced you to keep your mouth shut. "You are my wife now, and you are going to listen to what I say."

You squeezed your eyes shut when the man lifted you in the air and hurried forward, moving carefully so you wouldn't get struck by the branches. Your body ached, your legs hurt so hard you were ready to cry, your eyelids growing heavy. Oddly, the man's presence wasn't as intimidating as before, his body heat slowly warming you and lulling you to sleep since he slowed down a bit and kept going forward cautiously. You decided to close your eyes just a little bit...

__________________

When you opened your eyes next time, you were tucked in a bed that smelled like old sheep wool - your maid, a girl from the village, had the same scent when she returned after visiting her parents. Even though this bed was three times smaller and tougher then yours, you enjoyed laying there under the dark warm blanket - or whatever it was - and listening to the cracking fire inside the stone oven. Your poor feet were terribly sore, and laying on bed brought you so much comfort.

However, when you were fully awoke, you shifted on the bed nervously and glanced over the house, finding the stranger sitting near the crudely made wooden table, a clay pot in his hands. He lifted his hood, and now you could see his matted blonde hair and dirty face covered in mud and what looked like ashes. Was it his house he brought you to? It was very small and looked like it was abandoned some time ago, but you couldn't be sure. He had no servants to take care of his house, so maybe it always looked like that.

"You're awake." He said, turning his face to you. "Don't stand up. Your legs are no good."

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, knowing he was perfectly right since it still hurt you to move.

"Next time you need to tell me when you're in pain."

"Why?" Curling your lips in a grim smile, you got under blanket again, covering yourself up to your chin. "Why does my pain bother you?"

The man narrowed his eyes down at you and set the pot aside, putting his elbows on the table tiredly.

"You are my wife. Your pain bothers me, and my pain should bother you."

"I see." You averted your eyes from his face lit up by the light coming from the oven. You didn't know much about marriage since no one considered you to be ever wed. It was like this, then? Or was it because your husband was a peasant and not an honourable man? There certainly was differences, but you had never expected a beggar to be so kind.

He wasn't a beggar, though, of that you were sure.

"What name do I bear now?" You asked him, watching his face growing confused. "Do you... do you have a name, sir?"

"You bear the name of Rogers." He sounded oddly proud, but you only sighed - now you lost even the name your father gave you.

You were the beggar's wife, not the princess living in high castle - you would work hard till your hands bled; give birth to unfortunate children forced to live in poverty, who wouldn't know how to read or write; you'd starve and beg, and then die young. This is what your maid told you how the people of her village lived - despite being farmers, the lands they worked on were poor, and most of the harvest was taken away to feed the ones living in a castle.

You didn't even have the land to work on as you saw the forest through the crack in the door. This hut was in the middle of the woods, probably.

"I made a salve for your legs. Let me put it on."

When he stood up from the bench, you shivered and took your eyes elsewhere, moving higher on what you supposed was an improvised pillow. The stranger sat on the other side of the bed and moved your blanket, showing your dirty feet with dry blood covering them. Then, as if he remembered something, he went somewhere behind the oven and pulled a jug with a slightly cracked neck, soaking a rag in it. Once he squeezed it and brought it to your legs, you winced in pain, but stayed silent.

The stanger had been kind to you beyound your understanding.

"So, were the rumors true?" He asked once he wiped your feet cleen and took a little jar with what you assumed was the salve.

"Forgive me, but there are too many rumors for me to remember."

"The one that says you are so arrogant you don't want to meet any of the men who come to ask for your hand in marriage. Watching them being sent away, you sit in your room in the high tower and ridicule them all."

You wanted to laugh bitterly at his words, but the knot in your throat didn't let you utter a sound. Was this what the King and his children had been telling to your people, feeding them lies for years? The princess whose spirit was too high to look at those she deemed lower than her. The one born with a silver spoon in her mouth who didn't care whether her people starved and died from diseases. What a perfect little picture the King had constructed in the minds of others.

"If you believe it, did you take me as your wife to teach me a leason, then? To punish me?" You whispered and clenched your teeth - every touch to your legs made them burn as if the man's fingers were covered with flames.

"No."

His ridiculously beautiful blue eyes bore into you with such intensity it made you want to grab the blanket and pull it over your head to hide from him. Oddly, you thought his face looked noble behind that layer of dirt on his skin. He didn't look like any of those who you met behind the castle gates.

"In truth, I've seen you up there in the tower once, looking out the window. But you didn't laugh at us. You cried."

You raised your head and stilled, watching the man anxiously. No, he wasn't a beggar. They had never been admitted to the castle.

"How could you see me up there? My room is too high." Your hands trembled a little, and then you let out a hiss of pain when the man rubbed some salve onto your skin.

"I have a good eyesight."

"How did you know it was me, then?"

"Because I've seen you before."

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest at his words. Who was he? Who was the man sitting on your bed?

"Were you a part of a cortege of a man who came to ask for my hand?" You asked nervously, glancing at him rubbing more of that medicine that smelled like herbs into your feet.

The stranger nodded. "Then... where have you seen me? Was it before I was locked in the castle by the King?"

"Yes. I saw you when the old King, rest his soul, had been alive."

"I see. I must have been a child, then." You gave him a weak smile, remembering those times when you were still the lovely little girl, your mother always keeping you close to her despite the royal etiquette. It was the time when you still travelled, sometimes even outside of your own country. He probably saw you during one of your trips with your parents. "Have you been a part of the court? Maybe the one who served it?"

"Yes." His answer was noncommittal, and it only steered your interest. Did he lost everything just like you? Was he stripped of his titles? It must had happened quite some time ago since his big hands were rough, work-weary. Maybe he was the knight or someone who belonged to the army.

Knowing he was becoming agitated, you decided to stop there. You had no desire to test patience of the one who had only ever been kind to you.

"I only have one question left, sir. How should I call you?"

He smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"Steve. My name is Steve Rogers."

Steve Rogers. This name rang a bell. He could see you growing confused, wracking your brains, desperately searching for any memory that could give you the answer. Steve Rogers. Steve...

Stevie. Prince Steven Grant Rogers. The little boy who was so unhealthy pale he looked like a ghost. He was skinny and small despite being older than you. You knew his mother had been sick for many years, confined to her chambers, and, sadly, her boy took after her. You remember the whispers behind your back when you visited him for the first time as he laid in bed, watching you with his enormously big blue eyes.

"It can't be." You gawked at the man who was bigger than anyone you had ever seen, his arms musculed, his shoulders wider than the ones of the King's executioner. Little Stevie could never grow so big - you remembered his thin, strange body well. "You can't be prince Steve."

"I'm not. I am King Steven now, little girl."

Oh, you remembered you called him a little boy that made him pout at you. There was no one standing close to you at the moment when you bended over to him and talked quietly not to tire the prince. But how could he become so strong? Even his father wasn't as big as him now. Why was King Steven dressed like a beggar? Why did he take you in the middle of the woods, pretending it was his house?

"When I reached the age of 18, I've met a wandering mage who cured my illness. His charms changed my body, made me what I had to become if my mother didn't fell sick before giving birth to me. Do you like what you see?"

You felt your cheeks burning when you realized you were staring at him shamelessly and averted your eyes.

"You look stronger than any man I've seen, Your Highness."

"I know, little bird." Smirking, he finally finished rubbing the salve into your skin and set the jar aside, caressing your feet. "As I fulfilled my promise to you, I came to claim what's rightfully mine."

"What promis- AH!

His gaze grew dark as you stared at him wide-eyed, and his hand gripped one of your feet painfully, making you yelp as he pressed his finger to the blister. He didn't like you forgetting about something important, but you could swear you remembered nothing of a promise.

"I gave you my word one day I'd become better and then come to ask for your hand, my dearest. You said if it were to happen, you would choose me among the other suitors. Do you remember now?" There was something dark in his voice as he spoke, and you nodded immediately to make him ease his grip on your leg. Steve sent you a satisfied smile, caressing your foot gently with his calloused fingers. "I've came to you several years ago, but you refused to see me and sent me away. I caught a glimpse of you in the window, and then I realized something wasn't right. I've sent a few of my people to become the servants in the castle to learn the truth."

Strangely, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted. King Steven knew you weren't rotten to the core. He knew you weren't a spoiled princess who refused to leave the castle to see her miserable people, suffering under the heavy taxation laws imposed by the new King. Steve took you here not to make you learn a lesson how to be behave, but to hide you from prying eyes.

As he wiped the tears streaming down your face, you realized he sat much closer to you now - King Steven smelled like sweat and pine trees.

"When the King ordered to give you to the first beggar who would come to the castle gates, I had already sneaked into your lands, my beloved. If not his order, my people would take you away soon." He dropped a kiss to your forehead, touching the locks of your hair with his fingers.

"But the King would find out who stole me." You whispered. "He'd demand you to bring me back."

"Five thousand soldiers are waiting for my command to march to the King's castle. Why would I leave him the kingdom that belongs to you, sweetheart?" Steve smiled, and you saw something dangerous lingering behind his eyes, something that made you shiver and draw a shaky breath from you. "If I gave you such an army, what would you do with it?"

For a second you felt like your body was thrown right into the fire, burning your flesh to the bones. The tears stopped as you clenched your teeth.

"Burn the castle to ashes. Kill the King. Kill his children. Kill their entourage. Kill all of them who had abandoned and humiliated me."

You didn't know when the anger rose in your chest and took a hold of your tongue, make you spit venom and imagine your brothers and sisters scream and plead for their lives, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed every second of it when you thought of their heads on spikes for the crows to peck and the entire kingdom to see.

No one had come to your rescue for years when you prayed to be saved, taken away from a place that became your prison. No matter how much you asked God to answer you, he had been silent, and your learnt you were left alone in the world where no one wanted you to be treated fair. Then so be it. If no one took pity on a little miserable child pleading for help, you wouldn't show mercy to the ones who had been torturing you for years.

You hadn't seen how King Steven face changed as he watched you, his expression growing more sinister and poisonous, but you felt his lips on yours when he claimed your mouth possessively and his fingers clawed at your shoulders.

"I will cut the King's head off and tie it to the mane of your horse, my beloved. Would you like it to be your wedding gift?"

"Yes. Yes!" You cried as he shushed you, pressing your head to his chest and caressing your hair like a lover would.

"Then it's as good as done."

_______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @heeeyitskay @lovelydarkdaydream

[dirtykpopsnaps]

Parent-Teacher Conference — Johnny Suh

Warnings: None...other than cuteness and Johnny’s kid

Contains: Y/N the preschool teacher and single dad!Johnny

Requested: no

Words: 1, 763

———————————————————————

I hum lightly, unlocking the door to my apartment and walking inside. I set my bag down by the door and immediately head into the kitchen to begin heating up some leftovers from the other night. As much as I would like to cook something tonight, I know I can’t. I’m only able to be home for an hour or two before I need to be back at the daycare that I work for. Tonight we’re holding parent-teacher conferences, so I’ll be busy for a several hours.

Quickly, I pull some leftover pizza out of the fridge and put it on a plate before heating it up. For the hour and a half that I’m home, I slowly eat my food and just scroll through different apps on my phone. About half an hour before I need to be at the daycare, I grab my laptop and put it into my bag. You see, I tend to keep small notes on each child that is in my class. Little things that the parents might want to know. Calmly, I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out the door again, locking it behind me.

Heading out to my car, I climb inside and set my bag in the passenger seat. I turn the radio to the classic rock channel and start making my way back to Little Ducklings Daycare. The ride is pretty uneventful and I’m able to get to the daycare fairly easily. When I walk inside, a few of the teachers wave at me before going back to their activities. I walk up to my room, the 3’s room, and unlock the door before heading inside. Once the door is open, I take out my laptop and set it on the table. I place my bag in the little cubby for my things and sit down at the table to wait patiently.

Before long, the door opens and, one by one, parents and their children come streaming into the room. The parent-teacher conferences are set for about 30-45 minutes, so I’m able to have a one-on-one with the parents. Some parents bring their child along, but other’s don’t bring their child so that they can fully focus on the conference. For the most part, everything seems to be going fairly well. Most of the students are very well-behaved, so I don’t have many problems to relate to the parents. Although, there are smaller incidences that are typical for 3-year-olds.

Around 6:30, the second-to-last set of parents leave the room. I sigh softly, resting my head against my hand. Thankfully, I only have one more conference to get through. As much as I love teaching, it can be very tiresome to have conferences like this. They’re definitely not my favorite part of the job. Across the room, I hear the door open for the last time tonight. “Alright, little man, let’s go,” someone chuckles kindly. I sit up calmly, training my eyes on the door and the family coming inside. Seconds later, a little boy named Henry hurries inside, followed by a tall man.

Excitedly, Henry hurries inside the room and smiles adorably at me. “Hi, Ms. Y/N!” He says, waving animatedly at me.

“Well, hello, Henry!” I giggle, stepping out from behind the table to greet him. When I look up, I meet the eyes of the man that entered with him. I feel a little surprised that the person I see is not usually the person picking up Henry. However, I brush it off and stand up, shaking the person’s hand. “Good evening, sir. Are you Henry’s father?” I ask as kindly as possible. The man nods his head once, shooting me the exact same smile at his son.

“Please, call me Johnny,” he says.

When I let go of Johnny’s hand, we all sit down in our seats. Henry situates himself on the little chair that I have for children and smiles up at me. I giggle lightly before training my eyes back on his father. Looking into his eyes, I begin talking about how Henry has been acting at daycare. Henry is one of our newer students that joined only a few months ago, so I say as much as I can about him. He seems to be a very sweet and energetic child who is keen on learning. He’s almost always the first to ask questions and he plays with a lot of the children in the room. “Henry is also one of the students who loves having music on. He will ask us to play music and then sing and dance, which usually gets the other children to join in,” I relate, smiling happily.

About halfway through the conference, I ask Henry if he’d like to play with some toys in the room. Excitedly, he jumps out of his seat and runs over to the blocks. For a few seconds, both Johnny and I watch him before turning back to the conference. “There is one thing I would like to ask, though. You said you’re Henry’s father, correct?” I ask. Johnny nods his head lightly. “Then, who is the man who usually picks him up?” To be honest, I had assumed that man was his father. However, looking between Johnny and Henry, there’s no denying that they are father and son. Henry is almost a carbon copy of his father. Johnny chuckles lightly, a half smile playing at his lips.

“The person who usually picks him up is a driver for the company that I work for. To put it simply, my schedule doesn’t really allow for me to drop him off or pick him up. I’m usually already working by the time he shows up, and I’m still working when he leaves. Although, I try to spend as much time with him as I can after work,” Johnny explains softly. I nod my head lightly, adding this to my mental notes.

“Can I ask your job? If you’d rather not tell me, that’s alright. Just...curious,” I smile softly. Johnny chuckles again.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m an idol,” he states calmly.

As soon as this statement leaves his lips, everything seems to make sense. Especially Henry’s love for music and dance. “An idol. That...does explain a lot,” I chuckle. Johnny shrugs his shoulders, smiling softly.

“Yeah, it’s...interesting. Henry loves sitting in on our practices, and the members of my group just adore him. That’s usually where he is before and after daycare, at practice with me.” Johnny flashes another sweet smile and I’m again reminded of how much his son looks like him.

“Just one more question,” I say calmly, “Does, Henry have a mother?” At this, Johnny’s smile drops and he sighs, shaking his head.

“Afraid not. His mother and I only had a short fling going on because, again, my schedule doesn’t always allow for full relationships. When we found out she was pregnant, she immediately said that she didn’t want the child. However, she was so against abortions that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. We came to an agreement that she would give birth to him, but I would take full custody. If she ever wanted to meet him or get to know him, all she had to do was ask me. She, um...she hasn’t talked to me since,” Johnny explains, rubbing at the back of his neck.

When Johnny finishes explaining, I look back at Henry again. He’s still playing happily with the blocks, building something very tall and stacking the blocks on top of each other. I turn back to Johnny, frowning slightly. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Johnny,” I say sympathetically. He sighs, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

“I do what I can. It’s not ideal, but she decided that she didn’t want to be in his life, so I can’t do anything about that. He asks about her sometimes and I don’t lie to him, but...I haven’t exactly told him *why* she isn’t around,” he explains. I nod my head lightly, smiling softly at him.

“Your secret is safe with me,” I say. Johnny flashes another bright smile, laughing lightly.

“Thank you very much.”

After this, I open the discussion to any questions that Johnny may have. Johnny shakes his head lightly, starting to stand up. “None that I can think of,” he hums. When Henry sees us standing up, he hurries back over, but Johnny stops him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at Henry. Henry stands there for a few seconds, before looking back at the collection blocks and flashing a sweet smile.

“Sowwy, daddy,” Henry giggles, running back over and starting to put the blocks away.

While Henry works, Johnny shoots me a glance. “Although...there is one question that I have,” he says, smiling to himself. I turn to him, smiling softly.

“Mhm?” I hum happily. Johnny looks me up and down, then looks into my eyes again.

“I know it’s just the first time I’ve met you, but Henry talks about you a lot. And, I know it’s very personal, but...are you single?” He asks. Immediately, I feel my face warm up and I giggle, tucking some hair behind my ear.

“Umm...yes. I am single,” I giggle, looking up at him again. Johnny smiles softly, nodding his head.

“Would you...like to meet up some time? Just to talk more about Henry, of course,” he jokes. I giggle again and nod my head lightly.

“I would like that, Johnny. Though...we could definitely talk about more than just Henry,” I remind him. He laughs lightly, another bright smile lighting up his face.

“Would...Friday be alright? I think I can get off work a little earlier and I could ask one of my members to watch Henry for a few hours,” Johnny suggests.

“It’s a date,” I giggle, nodding my head once.

When Henry’s done with putting away the blocks, he runs back over to us. Johnny kneels down and Henry jumps into his arms, giggling loudly. Johnny laughs with him and stands up to his full height again. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Ms. Y/N. Say ‘bye’, Hen,” Johnny chuckles. Henry smiles brightly and waves at me.

“Bye!” He says loudly. I giggle and wave goodbye at him. Just before Johnny leaves the room, he flashes me another bright smile.

“See you Friday,” he mouths before dropping a wink and leaving the room. Once they’re out of sight, I start giggling loudly and hide my face in my hands. Wow...that was not how I thought parent-teacher conferences would go.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 4/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 4: Duty is Sacrifice

Emma woke as the sun rose in the sky, the light beams breaching the window to her room. She stretched her arms toward the top of her bed and sighed loudly. “It is about time you have risen from your bed.” She heard Ruby laugh from the other side of her room. “If you are to go riding with Prince Killian, you need to get ready.”

She yawned and sat up in her bed. “The sun has not fully risen, even the horses will still be sleeping.”

“Just because you enjoy sleeping until the sun is high, does not mean the rest of the kingdom follows.”

“You exaggerate, the sun has barely made it beyond the walls, the day is young.” She put her feet on the ground and closed her eyes, there was a sense of excitement and dread to get to see beyond the walls of the castle today, she hoped that wherever Killian took her riding would give her a better sense of this new prison she would be trapped in once she married Liam.

“Will you be standing on ceremony this morning and wearing a gown to ride?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She laughed. “You know I hate riding side saddle; this town might as well learn who I am because I have no intention of pretending I’m something else for the rest of my life.”

“You are going to be a handful for the Prince, I can assure you.”

“Good.” Emma replied simply. “Perhaps he shouldn’t have accepted to take me riding if he wasn’t up for the task.”

“I was talking about Prince Liam.” Ruby giggled. “But interesting that your mind went to his brother.”

“It’s not interesting at all, I simply thought you were talking about our riding adventure you are busy preparing me for.”

“Of course.” She said with a sly smile.

“What is this tone?” Emma inquired.

“Nothing at all, I was simply pointing out that perhaps you find the younger Prince intriguing.”

Emma snorted. “Intriguing. He’s smug, conceited, arrogant beyond all measure…”

“So, you’re attracted to him?”

“I’m not saying he isn’t easy on the eyes. I’m quite certain he’s been easy on many a maiden’s eyes.”

“I think he’s sweet.” She swooned.

“Of course, you do.” She exhaled with a laugh. “Men like Killian Jones most often turn out to be nothing more than a child and you do so enjoy taking care of children, don’t you?”

The women fell onto the bed giggling before going about the rest of the task of preparing Emma for the day’s ride.

By the time they emerged from her chambers it was lunch time and Emma hurried to the dining hall in hopes of finding the Prince. When she entered the chamber, the Queen was seated as she sipped her soup. Emma stopped in her tracks, realizing she was alone in the room with the woman.

“Princess Emma, do join me for some soup.” Emma bowed her head and sat down at the other end of the large table. “Nonsense dear, I prefer not to have to raise my voice over a friendly chat.” She motioned for the man behind her to bring her food next to the Queen, Emma took the seat nearest to the woman. “There that’s much better.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Please call me Alice, I have always hated formality. My mother gave me a name, I quite enjoy hearing people use it.”

Emma laughed. “You sound like my mother.”

“Ah yes, Lady Margaret. She is a fine woman.”

Emma’s head snapped up at the mention of her mother, she knew that the situation between her father and King Jones was not a happy one, but she was unaware that her mother and the Queen were acquainted. She thought it must be awkward considering her mother was once betrothed to the woman’s husband.

“I was not aware you knew my mother.”

A small smile spread on her face, “Men choose to stand behind years of resentment and bitter rivalry, but women, women understand matters of the heart, don’t we, love?” She paused. “Your mother is a brave woman in a time when women are not encouraged to speak their minds; she is someone I have admired for years.”

Emma smiled fondly thinking of her mother. “She would be pleased to hear that.”

“Are you ready to see all that Jonesboro has to offer you today?”

“Very, I love riding and experiencing new things.”

“Judging by your attire, am I to assume you are an accomplished rider?”

She looked down at her clothing, “My father and I used to go riding when I was a child. My horse back home, White Swan, I’ve had her for years. Some of my fondest memories are shared with her.”

“Killian will be pleased to know he will not need to teach you how to ride. My son is not the most patient of tutors.”

Emma laughed. “I never would have guessed.”

“How are you healing? My sons told me of the attack on the road here.”

“Sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“We are all very thankful that it was not worse.” She said, reaching over to grab her hand.

“Had it not been for Prince Killian, I fear it may have been worse.” She said honestly without thinking.

“I am most pleased to hear that. Besides, I could not bear needing to relay dreadful information to your father.”

Emma was about to ask the Queen how well she knew her father when they were interrupted by Killian’s arrival. “Good day, Mother.” He announced when he entered the dining hall.

“At this rate, it is almost evening.” She teased. “Can you ever emerge from your bed chamber before the sun rises?”

“What would be the point of that, if the sun has chosen not to rise, why should I?” He mused and Emma tried to hide her own smirk.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Princess Emma is an accomplished rider and should be well suited for a trip to the countryside this afternoon. Please be sure to show her the fields, the flowers are quite lovely this time of year.”

“Of course, Mother.” He said, kissing his mother’s cheek and grabbing a slice of bread from the table. “Are you ready, love?”

Emma felt herself blush as he stared in her direction. “Quite.” She said simply, standing from her seat. “It was lovely chatting with you, Alice.” She added softly, not missing the way that Killian’s face softened at the mention of his mother’s name.

She followed Killian silently through the halls until they found themselves outside, people milling quietly about, barely recognizing their Prince walking amongst them as if he blended with the townsfolk seamlessly without calling notice to the fact that he was royalty. The ones that did acknowledge that they knew him, fondly shook his hand, nodded in his direction, and a few of the women earned a genuine smile from the man. She could tell that he was well liked by their people.

“This way, M’Lady.” He gestured her toward the dirt path that led to the stables in the distance. “You are quite the surprise, Princess. I half expected you to show in full dress, ready to promenade around the villagers as their future Queen.”

She rolled her eyes at his dishonest comment. “You most assuredly did not. You know full well that I am not a helpless lady in waiting who sits back on her station in life. I’m quite sure I could match your skill with a blade, and I don’t think I’ve ever pretended to be a damsel in your presence.”

He laughed, responding with more honesty this time, “I supposed that is true, you are not quite what I expected, Princess of Misthaven.”

She found her eyes rolling again at the formality of it all, “Emma will do. I never liked the sound of Princess anyway; it makes me feel as if I am to parade around in pink satin and lace with braids in my hair and birds singing on my shoulder. It’s tiresome and boring.”

“You’re sort of an open book aren’t you, love?”

She flinched toward him as he opened the stable doors. “Usually, no.” She answered honestly. “I guess I don’t feel the need for pretense around you.”

“Should I feel honored then?” He joked.

“I am most certain the only reason I feel that way is that you yourself do not seem to be of the type to keep up pretense, unlike your brother, you do not have to worry that one day the crown will sit on your head.”

“And you believe this means that I do not have responsibility, or duty to the kingdom?”

“You speak of duty as if you understand it.” She laughed.

“Duty is sacrifice. I understand it more than most.”

“Sacrifice? What is it that you sacrifice? Your ability to roam from bed chamber to bed chamber? Missing a romp in the hay due to diplomatic responsibility?” She paused and snorted, “I misspoke, your father sends your brother for that.”

“I suppose it is more honorable that your duty is to lay yourself down for my brother.”

Emma felt the sting on her hand before she realized that she had slapped him. Her anger rising to the tips of her ears. Her mouth sat agape for a moment, his blue eyes glaring back at her. “I do not feel much like riding anymore.” She said angrily, storming away from the man and rushing back to the castle as the tears fell down her cheeks with each step.

~*~

Killian stared at her retreating form, his cheek burning from the contact with her palm. He knew he shouldn’t have said it, knew that Emma was set against marrying his brother simply because of duty. It was unkind to mention taking away her right to choose who she wanted to lie with. Yet he couldn’t hold his tongue. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her that he wanted more than his own station in life. He could do more if only his father allowed it.

Killian had waited in the wings for years for his father to call on him, he could be at the front of the Royal army, leading the charge toward battle, he could lead a diplomatic mission to other lands, be trusted to speak for the kingdom, to show his father and the town that he was more than just Liam’s little brother. But his father had little faith in him, only seeing him as the boy who caused mischief, the boy who could not be tasked with important things.

It angered him that he was always ignored, he was the Prince who would never be King. He was nothing.

Killian stormed back toward the castle, determined to spend his evening lost in drink and naked maidens. He would distract his anger away with more inviting emotions.

But his anger was not stemmed the next morning when he awoke with a hangover, his sheets clinging to his naked form as if he had tossed in the waves of another nightmare at sea. He was adrift in torment, unanchored and floating toward an ocean of regret and sorrow.

He did not like being at war with the Princess, yet he could not bear to be in the presence of the woman either. Seeing her was torment on his mind. As much as he wanted to shout his anger into her gravity, he was more tortured by the way he was affected by her company. As much as he loathed arguing with the woman, the result intoxicated him.

His mood was apparent through dinner, though his mother did not speak of it, his father was quick to point out that he was once again being difficult. Killian brooded while he ate, not making eye contact with the woman seated across from him.

“I never did hear how you enjoyed the countryside.” His mother spoke from the end of the table and Killian gulped his food down.

“I was feeling ill and had to cancel the ride before it began.” She responded quickly.

“I can summon Victor to have a look.” His mother responded.

“Thank you, but I’m feeling better today.” She said softly, looking back down at her food.

“Probably for the best, I’m sure Liam would do a better job of showing you around than Killian, unless you are only interested in the inside of our many taverns.” His father grumbled and Killian stood quickly from the table.

“If you don’t mind Mother, I have other duties to attend to.” He said, more forcefully than he intended.

His mother nodded with a frown on her face. “Of course.” He turned and bowed angrily toward his father and glanced only slightly at Emma before he exited the room, ignoring the look on her face as she tried to make eye contact with him. His feet pounded toward the courtyard, needing to feel the air, the breeze, something that wasn’t the inside of these rock worn walls.

Before he realized where he was going, he had saddled his horse and took off into the moonlight riding toward the forest. When he reached the small pool of water in the middle of the lush trees, he dismounted and sat down on the rock that had held him many times before. Times when his anger or sadness had pushed him away from the castle walls that he called home.

He pulled the flask from his jacket pocket, uncorking it and tipping it toward his mouth, the warm liquor coating his throat as it warmed him inside and quelled his discontent.

“You ride faster than I was prepared for.”

“Bloody hell.” He jumped as the voice approached him from behind. The horse stopped next to his own, and Emma dismounted, dropping down to the ground with ease. “Did you steal my horse?” He exclaimed, staring at the dark black mare behind her.

She looked back and ran her hands across her main. “Is she yours? She’s a beautiful animal.” The horse pressed against her hand, allowing her to run her palm against its face.

“Aye, her name’s Jolly, but she has not been ridden by anyone except me since she was born.” He said astounded that the horse not only allowed her to saddle it but to also sit upon her.

She shrugged, “I have a way with horses, I suppose.”

“What are you doing out here? It’s not proper for a Princess to sneak off with the brother of her betrothed. What would people think of your duty to him?” he added sarcastically.

“Don’t talk to me about duty.”

“Tell me Princess, why exactly are you marrying him? Are you perhaps too difficult for other men? Or do you not believe in love?” He spat.

“What do you know of love? You speak of it as if it is as easy to come by as getting water from a well.”

“I thought for sure that you of all people would reject the notion of performing your duty in the absence of love.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“For someone that comes from true love, one would think that it would be more important to you than duty.” Her mouth opened and he rolled his eyes. “You think I don’t know about your mother’s rejection of my father? She neglected her duty because she was in love.”

“How dare you accuse my mother of doing anything wrong. From my experience with your father, she made the right choice.”

“Don’t misunderstand Princess, I respect your mother’s gumption to defy the basic principles of royalty and duty. I just thought perhaps her daughter had the same spirit. I see I was wrong to make such an assumption.” She stepped toward him angrily and he laughed. “Did I touch on a nerve, love? Care to hit me again?”

“You arrogant, son of a…”

“Careful, that is not the language of lady in your position.”

“I’m no lady.” She said angrily.

“That part I believe. But tell me love, have you ever done anything that wasn’t part of your responsibilities. Sod the duty, no thought of what people will think of you, but you did it anyway simply because you wanted to?” He smirked.

“Of course, I have. Where do you think I learned to ride that damned horse like that?” He began laughing heartily and a pout formed on her face. “What?”

“You consider mounting a horse to be an act of defiance.” He stepped closer to her, pushing the hair lying on her shoulder behind her. “Perhaps you like the feel of the horse when you ride her bareback? Is it exhilarating having a beast as large as that between your legs?” She shivered against his touch and a grin grew on his face. He stepped back and tugged at the buttons of his shirt, dropping the garment to the ground in front of her. Reaching up to unbuckle his brace, he felt it loosen and drop onto the ground beside him. He did not have time to think about it, to feel the full weight of being this exposed to her, or anyone like this.

“What are you doing?” She asked nervously.

He reached for the string of his pants, loosening them, and dropping them the length of his body, standing in front of her nude and exposed as she rocked back on her heels, he was certain her cheeks were stained red if he had more light exposed to her. “Join me for a swim?” He asked nonchalantly, turning away from her with a grin and walking into the pool of water in front of him.

“Why on earth are you swimming in the middle of the night?” She yelled after him.

Once he was standing waist deep he turned toward her. “Because I wanted to.” He laughed with a shrug. “So, I did.”

He could see her contemplating her options on the shore, looking around nervously at the horses, staring at the pile of clothes he had left by the rocks. He knew he was being reckless; he had just discarded his clothing in front of his brother’s future wife. It was a game he was destined to lose.

And yet he couldn’t stop himself, whatever it was with Emma, it was like something was calling her to him. She was the air he needed to breathe and the blood running through his veins. He needed her and yet he couldn’t have her. “It’s alright Princess, I’m sure my brother would not want you catching cold anyway.”

As if he had just poked her, she angrily tore her gown over her head, pushing her shoes from her feet and standing on the shore in her thin shift. Killian felt his entire body catch fire as she slipped the straps from her shoulders and dropped the material to the ground, leaving her only in the flesh. His breathing wavered as she stepped into the water defiantly, almost marching toward him in the water, her eyes locked on his. God he wanted this woman.

When she was close enough to touch she sank down under the water, disappearing beneath as circles of water expanded out around her. Suddenly he felt something brush against his legs as they were pulled out from under him, and he found himself splashing backward into the water until he was submerged in the cool lake. When he breached the water, she was laughing, her hair soaked against her milky white skin, water pooling at the apex of her breasts. The mischievous grin on her face caused a reaction below the surface that he tried to tame.

“Aren’t you a bloody minx.” He chuckled. “Two can play your game, love.” He teased before he dove under the water, wrapping an arm around her waist and tossing her over his shoulder. She was laughing when she popped up from the water, wading in the deeper water behind him. She swam closer until she was able to stand, and he stared down at her.

Her eyes were wandering his body, glancing at his chest until they swept lower as if trying to see beneath the murky waters below. She bit her lip, turning her eyes back to his face and then onto his arm. “How did you lose your hand?” She asked suddenly and he glanced to his side, lifting his arm from the water, the blunt end of his wrist the constant reminder that he would never be whole.

“Sailing.” He responded sadly. “I fancy myself a pretty good sailor, but at 14 I was reckless, distracted, as my father has told the tale many times in the past.”

“Your father is an insensitive man.” She said softly.

“Aye, but not wrong. I have learned from my mistakes; I do not make them twice.”

“Couldn’t have been that easy for a 14-year-old.” She stared at him with sorrow in her eyes.

“I don’t require your pity, lass. All my other appendages work just fine.” He teased, cocksure and full of piss.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what, love?”

“Lie to me.”

“I can assure you; I’ve never lied to you.”

“Then you aren’t being honest with yourself. It’s ok for a 14-year-old boy to grieve the loss of something that everyone else takes for granted. There’s nothing wrong with struggling to feel whole.”

His eyes sought hers, her words striking something deep in his heart. How did she know that he had never felt like a full person for so many years? How was she able to see the thoughts and feelings he had tried so hard to hide from the world? Things he only spoke of in the solidarity of his own mind. He didn’t know who stepped forward first, how their bodies ended up so close that he could feel the vibration of the water beneath him from the way she moved back and forth beside him. He didn’t know when her arm brushed against his, her fingers lightly tracing the scars at his wrist.

He didn’t know how she ended up in his arms or why she was gazing at him with the look of want in her eyes but there was no denying that he was the one that closed the gap between them, his lips making contact with hers in a bruising kiss that left him feeling as though he would not be able to breathe if she pulled away from him.

She made a sound that sent shivers down his spine as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pulled her against his body as they hovered in the water. His hand tangled into her wet hair, his thumb tracing the curve of her neck, his tongue dancing with hers as their bodies slipped against each other.

His cock bobbed under the water, brushing against her backside as her groans became louder in his ear. He could barely contain himself, his hand brushing against her breast as she hummed in his ear, her teeth biting at his lobe. “Emma…” He groaned and he felt her stiffen in his arms.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, it was her who pulled away from him, a mortifying frown on her face. “Oh God.” She said into the air. “What have I done.” She started to pull herself toward the shore, marching toward their clothing strewn on the bank. “I must be insane.” She was mumbling to herself as he reached her side.

“Emma.”

“No, don’t talk to me right now. Don’t look at me.” She shrilled as she held her clothes up against her naked form. “I’m marrying your brother. We can’t…we should never have…Oh God.” She finished.

He turned around to speak. “Emma.”

“Please put your pants on.” She said anxiously and he reached for his pants, tugging them onto his wet legs, struggling to get them to slide up his legs with one hand.

“It was my fault. No one has to know about this.”

“You’re damn right, no one can know about this. I mean that Killian, no one can know. The dishonor it would bring to my family is more than I can bear.” She cried and Killian reached for her hand before she jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me.” She said before softening her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Emma, I’m the one who is sorry, I never meant to…” He continued to try and tug at the fabric on his legs refusing to budge.

“I have to get back to the castle before anyone realizes I’m gone.” She said nervously, wringing her hands as she approached the horse.

“Would you just wait, love. You’ll get lost in the dark.”

“No, we can’t be seen together, just…please Killian, leave me be.” She pleaded as she mounted the horse, her wet clothes clinging to her body. She urged the horse forward, turning to look back at him once before speeding off into the darkened forest.

“Bloody hell.” He swore, giving up on his pants and dropping down onto the rock behind him. He had royally screwed things up this time.

[savethelastdan]

Sesskagu Week Day Six: Future (White)

CW: child death, grief

DISCLAIMER: This was written weeks ago but no one outside a Discord has seen it, and I thought it fit the prompt. 

When he is fourteen, Sesshomaru’s son, Akinori, goes to see a fortune teller.

His mother advises against it; claiming to have killed many witches in her time, she declares that, with a sweep of her fan, “all they tell you is what you want to hear.”

Akinori laughs, but in the end can neither agree nor disagree; for when he arrives, the woman bars the doors and refuses to give him answers.

When will the panther king fall from power - this year, or the next? ​(Sesshomaru hides a smile, recalling the sword that awaits his son’s birthday to be claimed.)

Will my parents give me siblings, or have I already achieved the height of perfection in their eyes? ​(Kagura laughs boldly, but her smile is as soft as a feather as she runs a hand through her son’s hair.)

Which will be greater -- my father’s legacy, or my own? ​(The fortune teller cuts him off, her voice shaking as she tells him to please, please go away.)

-

It is not the first time that he has lost a child. But Sesshomaru could never say that the experience prepared him for the sight of the broken body stretched before them.

The panther king has shown little care in his work; Akinori’s limbs bend at competing angles, like a tree ravaged in a storm. His mokomoko lies limp in the grass, drenched with blood. Pink replaces the gold in his lifeless eyes.

The youth’s expression is peaceful; not that such a thing could bring comfort in this moment.

“​Do something!”​ Kagura screams; the side of her fist connects with his shoulder. Her other arm drapes over their son’s mangled body, as though to shield the heart that sits still beneath the tattered ribs. “​Bring him back!”

Jaken’s eyes meet Sesshomaru’s, frozen with horror. He knows exactly the memory playing in the kappa’s mind: The night of Akinori’s birth, where the child had come from Kagura’s body blue-faced and still. He hadn’t thought twice of wielding Tenseiga in that moment, while his wife was still lost in the throes of a final bloody contraction.

They had never told her -- had never thought it would matter.

“​Sesshomaru!​ ” The raw desperation in her voice - that which she’s always managed to shield from him, before, even when begging for her own rescue - he can not bear it.

He stands, the blood and poison pouring from his own wounds forgotten. Jaken’s head bows at his silent command - ​stay with them.

-

The panther king’s demise is neither swift, nor merciful. 

-

“Happy birthday, little brother.” Rin bends before the memorial stone, hands pressed flat together. The surface of the rock is not yet wind-worn, and it’s nice to finally have a place in the village where she can go to remember him.

Akinori’s true grave is at the peak of a tall mountain, chosen by his mother. Lord Sesshomaru searched for weeks to find it, and Rin has never felt comfortable asking him to take her.

She hasn’t seen Kagura or Jaken in years. Somehow, she believes they are together.

A breeze rustles against the back of Rin’s bare neck, tickling the strands of closely-cut hair at her nape. She hunches her shoulders in response, wondering not for the first time if Lady Kagura stays away because of her - knowing that Rin has escaped death twice, a prize that cannot be given to anyone else.

Could I trade one of my lives for yours, Akinori? To see you smile again?

She doesn’t want to judge; Rin has no children of her own, as much as she likes them.

Both hands fall to her side as she stands. Tonight, Lord Sesshomaru will arrive to sit with her. When Kohaku gets home, the three of them will drink, and talk about anything other than what is the only thing they can truly think about.

Rin’s ​glad ​he comes, instead of wandering the woods alone.

-

On the dark night of the winter solstice, something calls him to Akinori’s mountaintop.

Part of him (the ​weak p​art, the one that pulled him through the Meido in search of a lost wind goddess’ soul and made him want to smile when his brother pulled a girl out of the Bone-eater’s Well) doesn’t want to go. It’s easier to grieve on the ground, where he can walk a mere ten yards to find some creature to tear apart in order to calm his racing heart.

But he’s long past the days when he would ignore his instincts. When his boots settle in the snow atop the grave’s peak, he sees that he is not alone.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Tears flood Jaken’s eyes. He trips over the edge of the memorial stone in his hurry to bow. “How I’ve missed you!”

Kagura hunches her back and refuses to acknowledge him. Sesshomaru stands frozen - stunned that she and Jaken have remained together for this long without his servant’s demise, and at how little she has changed in the years since their last meeting.

“How is Rin? And Ah-Un? And Kohaku - oh, I’ve practically forgotten their foolish little faces!” Jaken continues to wail, waving the staff of two heads to emphasize the enormity of his struggles. Kagura clicks her tongue loudly, but the kappa soundly ignores her, and she tosses her head with a dramatic huff.

Sesshomaru resists the almost overpowering urge to embrace her. To do so would be foolish. The rejection would be swift and violent - most likely in the form of throwing him off the mountain. And why not? This particular failure of his has been the ultimate betrayal, far worse than simply allowing Naraku to destroy her. This had been a life she’d nurtured, suffered to bear - one she had ​cherished.

She swears under her breath in exhaustion, curling herself even tighter against his chest. Their newborn son is pressed safe between them, drooling against her collarbone. “I wish he looked more like me,” she mumbles. “Ah, well. Spoiled little prince...”

“Lord Sesshomaru, forgive me for my impertinence, but...” Jaken steps back slowly, in preparation to avoid punishment. “Are you well?”

He supposes he is not. Food and rest seem rather pointless; times when he can slow down enough to breathe, are also opportunities for memories of his loss to seep in. Other than a few visits to his human wards, and one to his mother (which ended quickly enough, when she used the meeting to make an offer of condolences that he does not wish to accept), Sesshomaru has not engaged socially with another creature since that terrible day. Much of his time is spent as it was in his adolescence - wandering the earth, searching for beings to challenge.

It is not as fulfilling as it once was.

“Oi.”

He blinks slowly in surprise, before turning his gaze to Kagura. Arms crossed over her chest, his wife (if she can still be called that, several years after having abandoned each other) appraises him with a cold stare.

“It’s going to snow tonight.” She nods towards the graying clouds. “We have a cave nearby, if you want to spend the night.”

Jaken squawks, vocalizing the disbelief that Sesshomaru himself feels. Kagura’s face reddens.

“Only because you look like shit,” she spits, words cracking in the air like glass. “What would it do to your reputation, to keel over from a little storm?”

The insult smarts, as though she’s taken Bakusaiga in hand and thoroughly tenderized him with it. Sesshomaru used to be strong, ​proud. T​he kind of being that others would come to for help, long ago, only to be dismissed for his own purposes.

Now, he is simply a father with two children who have grown up, and one who never got the chance to.

Now, Kagura is the one who curls her lip and turns away. 

-

Jaken fusses over him. It is a strangely welcome reminder of the old days. Kagura acts as though she doesn’t care, but it’s clear the two have developed a routine of sorts on their own - Jaken’s staff has place beside her fan, and they set up a small fire within the depth of the cave together without a single pause in their bickering.

The sense of unbelonging is uncomfortable. Sesshomaru sits as close to the entrance as he can, cold wind bearing against his back, to mute it.

“Eat this, my Lord!” Jaken bows his head, holding out a hunk of steaming meat. “There are tons of tasty creatures roaming around the mountains. It would be my pleasure to prepare as many as you’d like!”

He eats silently, ignoring the nausea that simmers under Kagura’s gaze. He does not know how to diffuse the unbearable tension between them, and so he will not try.

But when Jaken heads to the rear of the cave to sleep, there is no one else to put between them as a makeshift shield. And, despite his fervent prayers, Kagura does not leave her place on the opposite side of the fire.

It feels like centuries pass before she speaks.

“You left us.”

It’s three little words, but he knows exactly the moment of which she speaks. “I did.”

Outside, the wind screams as it drags snow from one side of the mountain and piles it against the other. Kagura pulls her kimonos tighter around her body, glaring into the fire.

He clears his throat. “I destroyed the panther king that day. Eradicated his tribe and his allies.” 

She nods stiffly.

“And I have not known peace for a single moment in the past three years.”

Her eyes flick up. “Do you think that’s what I want to hear?”

“It is the truth.”

Fingers crush the edge of her sleeve in a fist. In one swift moment, she stands and marches over to his side of the fire. Sesshomaru braces himself in expectation for a fighting blow.

Her palms slide against the side of his face, thumbs resting against the spot where his skin purples. Up this close, he can see lines of grief darken under her eyes, as the fire’s shadows bounce against them. The purple crescent moon on the side of her neck, tattooed during their wedding ceremony, has turned blood-red in the light.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she murmurs.

Then, she wraps him in a tight embrace. Her heartbeat thuds loudly in his ears, drowning out the roar of the snowstorm outside.

He doesn’t know it yet, but for the first time in years, Kagura sleeps soundly through the night. 

-

This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

S​he is wounded while razing a village, and does not object when Jaken calls him for aid.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you. 

S​esshomaru travels to meet Kohaku on a slayer’s trip, and a gust of wind floats by his side the entire way.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you. 

O​n the anniversary of the day Kagura lived again, they meet one another in an overgrown forest and don’t part ways until half a week later.

-

“Please?” Rin begs, tugging on Kagura’s arm. Though she’s well past the appropriate age for such childish actions, no one objects when she spends her parents’ visits practically glued to the wind witch’s side. “Lord Sesshomaru won’t tell me.”

“Ah.” Kagura glances over to where he stands in the corner, inspecting a weapon that Kohaku has mounted on the wall. “So you​ were l​istening to me, for once.”

“You said you wanted to keep it a secret,” he drones, carefully obscuring the relief that still arises in him that they can speak like this to one another, again. Things have progressed between them more than he could have ever imagined in the past few months; some days, he can almost believe that things will be like they were before.

Rin sighs in a long, guttural motion that sounds too much like his brother for Sesshomaru’s liking. “​Please?​ Jaken said it was good news.”

“Oh, of course that stupid frog would be the one to--”

“​Kaguraaaa​.” “Okay, fine.” The witch’s hand travels up to her hair, picking nervously at the feathers twisted into the base of her bun. “You’re going to have a sister by the time it’s autumn.”

Rin’s mouth drops; her head snaps over to where Lord Sesshomaru is trying very hard to look too busy to participate in the conversation. “What? But I thought you two were still--how did this even--” Her hands grip Kagura’s shoulders tightly. “Are you ​okay​?”

He’s apprehensive about the same thing. When everything on Earth still reminds them of Akinori, would another child only bring fear and resentment into the picture? Only by some strange miracle had they salvaged what tragedy had broken - the stress of another birth could easily rupture the wound again.

“I’m okay.” Kagura shrugs in a poor attempt to hide her discomfort. “Definitely didn’t miss the morning sickness, though.”

Rin sticks to her even more closely after that.

-

Mirai is born during a storm, a week and two days earlier than she is supposed to arrive. Despite the timing, she is red-faced and lively, screaming from her mother’s arms the moment she can breathe.

When she is old enough, her parents will take her to meet her older sister, and the grave of her older brother. Her grandfather’s sword and her mother’s fan will be her sixteenth birthday gifts.

But for now, she rests in the crook of her mother’s arm, lulled asleep by the wind.

“She sure is loud,” Kagura mumbles, tracing a tiny ear with one finger. “Guess we should prepare for a sleepless winter.”

Sesshomaru hums wordlessly in agreement. As he shifts, to shield them both from the cold seeping through the nearby window, Kagura grabs his arm with her free hand.

“I don’t blame you anymore, by the way.” Her words slur with fatigue. “I haven’t for a long time.”

He could tell her that her forgiveness is not necessary to keep them together. That, regardless of what she does, he will always blame himself first and foremost.

Instead, Sesshomaru leans over to rest his chin atop her head. “Sleep, now.”

“Right, right.” Her eyes close, lips turning up in what is unmistakably a smile. “You better stay where you are, or else...”

He would not be able to step away if he wanted to.

[tetsurouskuro]

Sweet Temptations

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, violence, mentions of drugs, dom!kuroo, mafia!au haikyuu, smut, sexual tension, orgasm denial, spitting, spanking (with a belt and hand), hair pulling and other stuff i may have forgotten

word count: 9,654

tag list: @iwaqchan @myherowritings (message me if you want to be added)

a/n: forgive me father for i have sinned!! ok, so i saw THIS! picture of kuroo and all i could think about was “i need to write a mafia!au with kuroo” and here i am and oh god i hope it’s good because it sounded so good in my head and to put everything down to words is on another level!! in this story all of the characters (and you) are a bit older, around 25-ish! also, a big thank you to Sof aka @myherowritings for helping me through with this and listening to my ranting and stuff... anyways... feedback is always appreciated and i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

Synopsis: Kuroo is the grandson of Nekomata Yasufumi, from the Nekoma mafia clan. You’re the granddaughter of Ukai Ikkei, from the Karasuno mafia clan. A arranged marriage between the two of you would mean that two big mafia clans would be able to work together and get even bigger and cover more ground in Japan, but there’s only one thing stopping this from happening... Kuroo and you...

MASTERLIST!

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Scotch whiskey in his hand, two ice cubes in the glass he twirled it around with his wrist while his other hand was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tightly as he tried to listen to Kenma, his righthand man talk about the current sales going around and how the next shipping was going for the states. Kuroo had one hell of a headache, and not because of the alcohol, no. He was anxious about meeting his boss, his grandfather; Nekomata Yasufumi.

“Kuroo, are you even listening to me?” Kenma sighed at his boss and best friend.

“No.” He answered bluntly, but truthfully. Not looking at the man in front of him.

“What's the matter? We need to get the shipping out soon and there's still a lot of people who haven't paid up our dealers.”

Kuroo opened his eyes, looked at Kenma as he drowned the scotch, the whiskey burning his throat, making his abdomen warm from the liquor. Taking a deep breath, he spoke calmly to Kenma.

“Don't worry about me and send Lev to the dealers. You can always trust a Russian around these kinds of things.” Kuroo stood up from his seat behind the big mahogany desk and walked around it to stand in front of his friend, placing his left hand on Kenma's left shoulder. “Fix it. I have some matters to take care of.”

“Of course, boss.”

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Knocking on the big wooden door, he heard his grandfather speak, giving him the go to come in. Opening the door, Kuroo walked in, his legs carrying him inside with confident steps. The room was beautifully decorated. On the left wall was a built-in bookshelf. Books recorded back to the early 1700-century. To the right was a wine-red leather sofa, in front of it a rectangular coffee table. In the far corner of the room was a 1600-century Italian old-world globe bar. It stood open and two glasses were missing.

Looking in front of him, his grandfather was sitting behind a similar mahogany desk that he had in his office. Two chairs stood in front of the desk. Walking over Kuroo unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat in one of them, sighing in the process. Nekomata watching his only grandson, he could tell that the young man in front of him was stiff.

“Relax, son. What are you so worried about?”

“Ojii-chan,” was all Kuroo spoke. Nekomata placed a tumbler in front of him and Kuroo, each glass was half full.

“I didn't call you to talk business son. I wanted to talk to you about the Ukai's.” This made Kuroo perch up.

“Oh?”

“You know that you're marrying Ukai Ikkei's granddaughter in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It's an agreement our parents made before they died.” Both yours and Kuroo's parents had died when both of you were 5 years old, him being 7. Both Nekomata and Ukai did not want their grandchildren to be put in any foster home, so they took you in.

“Correct.” Nekomata pushed one of the half full glasses to Kuroo and both men brought them up to their lips, taking a sip. Kuroo started to think about his fiancée. Did she like whiskey or brandy? Truth to be told, he did not care. It also showed how little he knew about his soon-to-be wife. He did not know anything significant about her, other than her name and birthday. Everything else, Ukai Ikkei had kept buried. There were no pictures of you anywhere. No social media accounts or driver license. Nothing. You were like a ghost to him. If he did not know any better, he would've thought you didn't exist.

But it made sense, though. Kuroo would have done the same if he had a daughter. Family was everything. It was one thing his grandfather had drilled into his and the other members heads since they were children.

“There has been some change of plans. She's on her way here now.”

“What?”

“You heard. Ukai and I talked and come to the agreement that she should come here now and the two of you should get to know each other.” Kuroo didn't want to get married. He didn't want to marry you. He wanted to have the freedom of not being tied down to one woman.

But he also wanted to honor his family. Mostly his grandfather. Nekomata Yasufumi had done everything he could for Kuroo. At the age of 5, he had learned the truth about what his family was doing. At the age of six, he had learned how to fire of a gun, being skilled already at that young age. But most importantly, he had learned that blood is thicker than water. Family was everything. Absolute.

“You need to stop fucking that whore you bring around so much,” this made Kuroo smirk. Natasha, the whore Nekomata was talking about was the girl Kuroo had by his bed to pleasure him. She wasn't good looking, or smart for that matter, but that wasn't why Kuroo kept her. She had a good throat and a nice cunt.

“I'll get rid of her. I know what our agreement says.”

“Infidelity. Keep that snake in your pants.” Kuroo laughed at his grandfather.

“If I have to throw a paper bag over her while I fuck her, then I'll do it, Ojii-chan.”

“End it, now.” Kuroo stands up and throws back the rest of his whiskey.

“I will. When is she here?”

“They're already on the road, so approximately three hours. Don't be late.”

“I won't.” Kuroo stands up and is just about to leave when Nekomata hands him a big file.

“Read it. Yamamoto broke through their firewall and got a hold of their records.” Kuroo smirks at his grandfather and exits the room. The day couldn't get any better now.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

“Yuu, what are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh! I'm playing a game.”

“Now? You're supposed to read the map!”

“Well, last time I checked it was still 5 miles left until the next exit!”

“Guys. Please I'm trying to read back here...”

“Sorry boss!”

Sighing at the two men in the front seat, you skimmed through the files that your grandfather had handed you (he and his goddamn files). There it was all the information about your future husband and the rest of his family.

“I can't believe Nekoma almost tripled their profits in less than a year,” you spoke loudly. Not really expecting one of the two men in the front seat to answer.

“They've also somehow gotten their drugs into Nohebi territories. Mexico, Russia, and the damn States. They have networks going through most of East Asia, those city boys.” Tanaka states and you laugh at his nickname for the Nekoma.

“Soon it'll be yours too, boss,” Nishinoya turns around in his seat to look at you and gives you reassuring smile.

“That's if he accepts the last-minute change in the contract,” you answer him back.

“You mean, where you demand to be kept informed and in agreement with his future decisions involving the business?” Tanaka laughs. “It'll be interesting to see his reaction.”

“It will be indeed. I allowed them to hack into our records also earlier today.” The men laugh at that. Not because it's funny, no. They laugh because Nekoma thought they had you now. Or so they thought.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

“I'm telling you boss, they won't dare step another foot in our territory again,” Lev spoke as he took a sip of his can of soda.

“Good. Anything else? I need to get going soon. Kenma you're in charge while I'm gone.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Lev asked while Kenma just nodded as he read through some information Yamamoto had sent him earlier on his phone, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Family business. If the Nohebi try anything else, you know what to do. No need to hold back.” Kuroo spoke with an even voice as he pulled on his suit jacket.

“By the way, boss. Are you friend with the Fukurodani boss?” Yaku spoke from his spot on the leather sofa.

“Yeah. Grew up with him. Why?” Kuroo quirked an eyebrow at the short savage.

“There's a file he sent us.”

“I'll read through it later,” Kuroo said and walked towards the door and said goodbye to the group that had formed in the basement of the hidden base. He walked to the underground garage and unlocked his jet-black Audi R8, taking a seat and speeding to the exit. Once he had turned and driven for 5 minutes, there was an incoming call, he simply connecter it to the car Bluetooth.

“Ojii-chan, I'm on my way.”

“Hurry. They're already here.”

“I figured. I'm 15 minutes away.” Hanging up, Kuroo let out a big sigh. He was not looking forward to this meeting. He wasn't looking forward to meeting you. He didn't want a wife. Yet, he wanted to know what you looked like. He was a little intrigued. He was about to spend the rest of his life with you.

Pulling up to the private road that led to the Nekoma mansion he parked the car next to a big SUV and got out. Walking towards the stairway that led him inside, he opened the door and walked in, announcing his arrival. He could hear chatter and he followed the sound of the voices, leading him into the dining room. Walking in he is met with his grandfather, a tall muscular man with a buzzcut, a short but also muscular man. The shortest had black hair, ruffled upwards. A tiny tuft of his hair falls over his forehead and is bleached dirty blond. Both men looked dangerous and he knew they were your bodyguards.

His eyes then travel to find yours and his breath hitches. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. From where he stood, he could tell you were perfection. From your wavy, (y/h/c) hair, flawless skin, and deep (y/e/c) eyes, to your perfect hourglass figure. The knee-length black dress hugged each and every one of your curves. But your ass – fuck. It was like your lips were demanded to be kissed, and Kuroo's cock demanded to have his way with you right then and there.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I'm Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kuroo's eyes never leaving you. As if it only were the two of you there.

“Pleasure's all mine. You're taller than I expected.” You laugh. “I'm (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“6'2 to be exact, but who's counting.”

“Tanaka. Nishinoya. Could you leave us alone so we can go over the contract?”

“Ojii-chan?”

“Gentlemen, if you would follow me,” Nekomata speaks and Kuroo watches as the men exit the dining room, watching their backs disappear. Turning his head, he sees that you are watching him. His eyes are cold, his hazel orbs looking into yours. His facial expression is narrow, you can't read this man at all. You just stand there, watch this beautiful man in front of you and wonder what type of person he is. Is he brutal as the words are said about him back in the Miyagi prefecture?

Kuroo turns around and walks to the bar and pours himself a drink. Without turning to look at you he asks, “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” You answer him back, moving your legs to the windows. Watching and taking in the scenery. Soon this would be your new home, and behind you stood your future husband. Your fiancée, who you didn't know anything about and that was scary for you. It was one thing dealing with weapons and drugs, those were materials that you could handle and knew HOW to handle. This, Kuroo Tetsurou, was different. He had a brain, heart and soul for himself.

“How much are you involved in the business?” Kuroo speaks, turning around you see that he has taken a seat by the bar. Scanning him up and down, the black three-piece Giorgio Armani suit sits tightly around his thick thighs, arms and shoulders. The white button-down shirt is tight against his chest and abdomen, and the dark red tie is completing the look, making him look edible. He is leaning back in his seat; his elbows are bracing his weight as he slowly sips his liquor and watches you as he does it. Your panties are suddenly very, very damp but you would not let him see you this effected by just his looks. Composing yourself you answer his question.

“I oversee the weapons and drugs that come in and out of all of Miyagi. I am also in charge of selling the weapons to potential businesses, but also to send out threats and deal with any problem that may occur. It's also I who holds the annual gala and fundraising events that occur here in Tokyo for my grandfather’s business.”

“Wow. Impressive. For a woman.”

“Excuse me?”

“But you don't go out and handle clients?” Kuroo ignores your little outburst and questions you further.

“Oh. I do that too, Kuroo.”

“Interesting,” his glass is empty, and he sets it down on the bar, stands up and walks over to you. Even with your 5” heels he's still towering over your small frame. “Shall we sign the papers?”

“Have you read through the contract?”

“I've read it so many times I've memorized it now. Just sign the contract.”

“I've made some changes. You should re-read it.” Walking towards the table where the paper was lying, he picked it up and scanned the two lines that had been changed.

“You're kidding,” he snickered. “You're asking to basically babysit how I run my business?”

“Ah-ah. We are not married yet. It will be ours or there's no deal, so Kuroo Tetsurou, sign the paper and rule over both the Karasuno and Nekoma or leave it and there's no deal.” Stunned. His facial expression turns to pure hatred. To think that you were a witch. He was angered, his cock was hard, and he wanted to fuck some sense into you on the dining table.

Picking up the pen, he signed his signature next to yours. Kuroo agreed because of the honor he has for his family and wanted to please his grandfather. Yes, he would have liked you to be a wife that stayed at home, who cooked and cleaned. A wife he could fuck whenever he felt like it. But the mere thought of having you with him. Killing people together and seeing a ruthless side of you made his cock twitch in excitement.

“If you for a second think I'm gonna listen to you. You're wrong. You think you got power, but so do I so all I'm gonna say is game on, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

In mere seconds Kuroo had grabbed you, pushing you against the nearest wall. One hand bracing both of your wrists above your head and his other holding you by the throat – hard enough so you would not escape, but not hard enough so he's choking you.

“First, your joke?” he spoke, panting in your face like some lion who's about to jump his prey. “Not funny.”

“Second,” slowly lifting his hand around your throat so he's holding your cheeks now. His thumb brushed over your lips. “The very moment that ink touched that fucking paper, you were mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to fucking command, and mine to put in your fucking place.”

“And third,” he crashes his lips to yours brutally. Your body loving the sensation, but your brain screaming for you to stop him. He pulls away and continues talking. “You're gonna stop this macho behavior, sit at my side and you stay beautiful, like a lady.”

He crashes his lips against your again – sealing this deal with a kiss. Again, he pulls away and you stared at him wide-eyed. “Are you finished?”

“Not quite. I don't think I'll ever be finished with you, (y/n).” Pulling your head back and smashing it against his so he tumbles back, you gently massage your wrists at the friction, also hating the feeling of missing his body against yours.

“Touch me again and kiss me again without my permission and I'll put a bullet between your eyes when you sleep, got it?”

“Don't boss me around and throw some empty threats at me, kitten. I'll be the one who rules when we're married. You'll obey me and listen to me, got it?”

He leaves the room, slamming the door after him as he leaves. Seconds later Tanaka and Nishinoya rushes in. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I'm fine.” If Kuroo, for one second thought he had won, he was wrong. You were just getting started.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

A week later you had moved your things from Miyagi all the way to Tokyo, your new home. And of course, you'd moved in into the Nekoma mansion. You had gotten your own room, which you were thankful for.

When you arrived at the mansion after all the moving staff had fixed everything around for you, you didn't expect Kuroo to be waiting for you, in your room and asking how your trip went.

“Good. I thought you only cared about your company?” Closing the door and crossing your arms over your chest you watched as he stood straight, walking with confident towards you.

“I'm not that much of an asshole.”

“You kind of are though.”

“Watch it, or I might lock you up in the basement.” The man was in front of you now, his tall frame confident and a smirk on his face. You wanted to punch it away.

“Is that how you cats treat your woman?”

“No. It's how I treat my woman when she doesn't listen to me.” This sent shivers down your spine and left your panties damp. This ruthless behavior that he had was getting dangerous. It was making your head spin, almost like you were losing consciousness.

“What makes you think I won't be able to get out?”

“Oh, I know you'll be able to get out, kitten. I just don't think you'd appreciate the outcome of it.”

“What do you know? Maybe I like getting spanked and tortured in your chambers,” just as those words left your lips his face is in front of yours.

“Is that something you want to happen?” You looked into his hazel eyes and gulped. “Because I can make it happen kitten. Just say the word.”

“Brush that smirk off of your face before I punch you in the face,” you pull him away, but the man barely moves. Just as he's about to say something there's a knock on the door. The door opens and a tall man with light grey hair walks in.

“Excuse me boss, but they're waiting for you in the basement.”

“Thanks Lev, I'll be right there.”

“Wait, what's going on?” You watched as the man, Lev, leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

“Nothing for you to worry about, kitten. I'll see you tonight,” he leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek as he straightens up, turns around and heads to the door.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight. Dinner. You and me. 6PM. Don't be late.” He opens and exits the door, without uttering another word. Leaving you standing in the middle of your room, staring at the door and wondering what just happened. You were irritated, but also hot and bothered. How was tonight gonna end?

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Walking down the stone staircase that would lead you to the patio where Kuroo was waiting for you in high heels was a challenge, but you were no woman that takes them off. You accepted every challenge that came your way.

You decided to wear a off-shoulder floor length black dress with a side slit. Your hair pulled into a tight ponytail and some nude smokey eye makeup, making you look like the boss that you were.

When you reached the patio, Kuroo was sitting by the far end of the table and waiting. His eyes locked on the phone as he kept typing something. The sound of a chair being pulled back made him look up and lock eyes with you. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sight of you.

A young girl, probably working for Kuroo had pulled out the chair for you. You took him in as you sat yourself down. Dress shoes (probably), black pants, a black button-down shirt, the first button undone and a suit jacket. If you thought you were hot and bothered before, your panties said a completely different story now as they were drenched.

“You look beautiful, kitten.”

“Thanks. You look rather dashing yourself, Kuroo.” He smirked at you and lifted two fingers, signaling for the girl to leave you two alone. Once she leaves, Kuroo takes a sip from his glass, his eyes gazing into yours.

“So, Kuroo. Are you gonna tell me where you went earlier?”

“It's nothing for you to worry about. I handled it.”

“It doesn't matter. If we're gonna get married and rule this 'empire' together you need to meet me halfway.”

“I don't have to do a thing. I tell you what I want to tell you and if I want to tell you.” Standing up, he walks towards the other end of the table where you're sat and stops at your side, slowly lowering his head so his lips are brushing against your ear. “And one of these days, you won't be able to say no to me. I'll fuck you so hard that you want me to stop.”

Gulping, squeezing your thighs together and the way his voice and words were making your body shiver of excitement, but also wanting to punch him for thinking he had some kind of mastership of you. Taking a deep breath, you collected yourself to answer him.

“I want in on this too. If someone is messing up with my business, or my stuff I want that sucker to feel pain because no one fucks with me; not even you. So, you're gonna start treating my like your wife and business partner or I'll find that marriage agreement and rip it apart.”

“And what would happen if I don't agree with you?” His breath hits your neck as you can feel his breathing beside you. His lips come down on your neck and you close your eyes for a brief second, loving the sensation, but opening them fast as you can't let him have his way. Not yet anyway. You need to stand your ground and show him that you're just as stubborn as he is.

“If you don't agree. I'll break off this fucking arrangement and then burn you to the ground.” Turning your head to look at him, you see him smile at you. His face mere inches from yours.

“One of Nohebi's men were caught trying to steal some of my cocaine and Lev, the man you saw earlier, caught him and tied him up in the basement. I beat him to the pulp, cut off two of his fingers and then sent him to his boss, with a sweet message.”

“And I couldn't be there because?”

“Because this was my shit to handle and I had something else I wanted to do before I did that.”

“Which was?”

“Gimmie your hand,” reaching out your left hand for him, he pulls on a big fat juicy diamond engagement on your ring finger.

“Buying that. I'm not liking this with letting you in on my business, 'kay? This is all new to me, but I will slowly let you in. Not entirely, but eventually everything that's mine... will be yours. Ours.”

“Kuroo, I-”

“But listen to me carefully. Now that you have that ring it means that you are mine. All mine. You will listen to me and do as I say. When I want to fuck you, you will let me. If you do as I say, I will reward you and... I will also give you what you want. In return.”

He pulls away from you and you watch as he turns around and walks back to his seat.

“Now, (y/n). Are you hungry? 'Cause I am starving.”

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

“I'm going to New York tomorrow to do some business with a friend of mine. I'll be back on Friday.”

“I can't come with you?”

“No. Not this time.”

Sighing at him you nod your head. You accept; for now. “Okay.”

You feel him push your back against the door to your room, both of your hands behind your back, him holding them in place as his lips are just inches from yours. “Good girl. Finally, you listen to me. Why you gotta be so disobedient?”

“'Cause life would be boring for you if I wasn't,” you manage to squeeze those words, just in time for his lips to crash against yours. Your head tilted back as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. Tasting both the liquor and food from him. His body comes closer and you can feel his rock-hard cock press against your lower abdomen.

“I am the only one who gets to touch you and make you come, you got that?” You just nodded your head.

Good. Now you should get some sleep. I'll see you when I get back.” And just like that, he leaves you, leaving one last kiss on your lips. Not wanting to seem totally desperate for him, you open the door to your room, walk in and close it, leaning your back against it. Feeling your own arousal, you decide to do something about it. Walking towards your bedside table, you open your drawer and pull out your purple dildo and climb onto the bed.

If you can't have Kuroo's cock now, at least you could imagine it was him fucking you instead of that dildo of yours.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

The next morning you get woken up by the birds chirping outside your bedroom window. The sun shines through the curtains and hits you in the face, making you scrunch your face in disgust; you were not a morning person.

Stretching yourself on the big king-size bed you hear some strange sound and look to your left, seeing a white-yellowish envelope. Sitting up, you reach for it and open it, pulling out a paper, a handwritten note and start reading.

Good morning kitten, the fact that you touched yourself yesterday without my permission has my blood boiling. I told you that only I am allowed to touch you and make you come.

So, for being so disobedient, I've taken all of your toys and burned them all up. No need for you to have them when you have me, right?

Be a good girl and listen to your fiancé, if you want to come just call me and I'll fix it for you.

If I find out that you've been touching yourself without my permission again, I'll punish you when I get back. I've got eyes and ears everywhere.

I'll see you on Friday, kitten.

That fucking bastard.

You scrunched the piece of paper and threw it on the ground. Throwing yourself off the bed and pulling on your nightgown you are just about to head to the nearest staff member when your phone rings, knowing full well who it was.

“What do you want?” You answer angrily.

“I take it you've read my letter?”

“Oh, I've read it and I'm just about to burn it.”

“Ouch, kitten. My first love letter for you and you're already breaking my heart,” you could hear his smirking on the line and wanted to punch his pretty face.

“If this is breaking your heart, then you're easily pleased.”

“Oh, kitten. I am no-where pleased. I'll be pleased when I got you on my bed and my cock deep inside that cunt of yours,” you shivered at his words and could feel a tingling sensation in your lower abdomen, knowing full well what he was doing to you. He was gonna be gone for 5 days, meaning he had 5 days to tease you and if he continued like this then these 5 days were gonna be hell, especially if you could not touch yourself.

“You'll have to wait a long while for that to happen, Tetsurou.”

“The way you say my name kitten, next time you'll be screaming it,” a little laugh escapes his lips. “I need to go, just arrived at the jet. Don't miss me too much, when I get back, I'll have my way with you.”

He hangs up and you throw yourself on the bed. If you thought you could deny him much longer, you were dead wrong. You wanted him yesterday. You wanted him today; you wanted him now.

A knock on the door woke you up from your Kuroo thoughts. “Come in.”

The door opened and in walked one of your closest friends.

“Oh my god Daichi,” you jumped out of bed and into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet everyone? Just kidding. The old man sent me here to keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me? Why?”

“To make sure that the wedding happens. We all know how you've treated your other boyfriends.”

“I'm not gonna kill this one, okay?”

“I believe it when I see it,” Daichi laughs and you pout at him. “How's he? Kuroo?”

“Ugh, he's a sexist. A possessive and dominant bastard that looks down on woman.”

“But? I feel like a but is coming.”

“BUT... he's a sexy motherfucker that is teasing me and giving me all of these sexual desires that I haven't felt before and I've never wanted to fuck and kill someone as fast and hard as with him.”

“Seems like you've got it under control then?”

“Yeah. He's on his way to New York and will be back on Friday.”

“And when he gets back? What are you gonna do?”

“Nothing. Or maybe. No, I don't know. These emotions and feelings that are erupting from me is something new. I want him, all the love and hate. But I'm also scared because opening up to someone is dangerous in our business.”

“Oh, I know darling, but he's in this business as well and he's worse than you. I've met Kuroo before with the old man and when he loved and cares for something, he puts all of his heart into it. So, if something were to happen to you, he'd be sure to put a bullet on that bastard.”

“He thinks I'm his property, like I'm not a human being.”

“(y/n), we're the mafia and we protect our own and soon you'll be each other’s. He's gonna be your husband soon. Accept it.”

“What am I gonna do then? When he gets back?”

“You'll have to wait and see.”

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

It had gone two days since you last saw and spoke to Kuroo. You thought of him all the time. You even started to wear a elastic band around your wrist and snapped it every time you thought of him, but you had started to turn red because you were basically snapping your wrist all the time so you gave that up pretty quickly.

Now, you stood in front of your ensuite, brushing your hair and getting ready for bed. It was 1 am in Tokyo. 12 pm in New York. You didn't want to call him. Calling him meant that you thought about him, which you did but, it was different.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the marble counter made you jump as your thoughts had wandered to him once again.

“Hello?”

“Kitten. Why aren't you sleeping?”

“I was just getting ready for bed, but a very disturbing person called me, and I wanted to see what he wanted.”

“Sounds like an interesting man to me.”

“I'm sure he does... what do you want?”

“There should be a package coming for you about... now.” A knock on your bedroom door could be heard and you walked out of the ensuite and opened the door. There on the ground was a white package with a black ribbon around it.

“What's this?”

“Open it.”

“I will. But what is it?”

“Open it. You'll see, kitten.” Rolling your eyes, you closed the door behind you and placed Kuroo on speaker and threw the phone on your bed, the white package beside him. Pulling on the black string, the ribbon came undone and you lifted the lid and gasped.

“Kuroo... this is...”

“Put them on.”

“What? No!”

“Do. It.”

“Kuroo...”

“(y/n)... do as I say.”

You sighed and finally gave in. You pulled your panties down your legs and then put on the new ones. Kuroo had someone deliver a pair of vibrating panties. “Now what?”

“Now. Lay down on the bed. Put me on speaker and then place the phone beside.” You climbed onto the bed and did as he said.

“Done.”

“Good. Now kitten, tell me about your day.”

“My day? I went with Tanaka, Nishinoya and Dai- OH GOD!” Suddenly the panties started to vibrate.

“Hm? What was that?” The vibrating stopped and you gasped. That little fucker.

“I said. I went with Tanaka, Nishinoya and Daichi to the mall and bought some-fuck, Jesus, shit... s-some dresses.” The vibrating started again. The sensation hitting your clit perfectly, making your hips buck at the feeling. But also, wishing it was his fingers instead of some material rubbing against your sensitive bud.

“Some dresses huh? What kind of dresses?”

“Pretty ones.” You answered bluntly. You didn't want to talk. You just wanted to feel. And come.

“Kitten...” Kuroo's voice sounded dark and the vibrations stopped once again. You instantly missed the feeling. “Behave.”

“They're all different. Long, mid-thigh, short and so on. You'll see them when you get back.”

“Oh, will I?” Kuroo started the vibrations again, but this time he had increased the speed, making you moan out.

“Fuck.”

“Does it feel good, kitten. Do you want more?”

“Fuck, yes,” you answered him with a moan. Your hands fisting the duvet cover, eyes closed, mouth open and your head thrown back. Your back slightly bent and your knees pulled up. You weren't near close but as for having been horny for at least a week now, you just wanted to come. The release you got on the night before he decided to burn all your sex toys hadn't satisfied you enough.

“What do you want, kitten? Tell me.”

“Fuck, I want you. I want your cock.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yes, really. You dumb fuck. Oh god, Kuroo.” He increased the speed once more and now you felt how your lower abdomen was tightening. “So close.”

“Good kitten. Now you've made me a very happy man. You wanna come?”

“Fuck, yes. Let me fucking come already.” The pressure started to keep getting stronger and stronger.

“I don't think so, kitten.” He turns it off. The pressure in your lower abdomen slowly started to fade but you still wanted to come. You didn't give a fuck anymore.

“What the fuck, Kuroo?”

“I'm the one who decides when and how you come. Don't forget that.”

“I'm not taking orders from you. Stupid sexist of a man. If you're not gonna finish it for me, I'll do it myself.”

“(y/n). Don't. You. Dare.”

“Or what? Are you gonna punish me? When? You're not here. I'll finish myself off without you.” Grabbing your phone, you clicked him. Putting an end to the call.

He had the audacity to boss you around, to think he could decide for you. No. You weren't going to listen to him. You pulled off the panties he gave you and stomped to the bathroom and threw them in the trash-can.

Stomping back to the bed, you pulled away the duvet cover and climbed into bed. Looking at your phone you saw a text message from him, and a picture.

Opening the message, you bit your lower lip, seeing what he sent you.

On the picture was Kuroo. He was stood in front of a mirror in just his briefs. Grabbing his cock through the briefs, seeing as it was hard underneath the material. Just from the picture you could tell that he was big, and that made your mouth water.

Underneath the picture was his message.

I'm so hard for you kitten.

I'M WET FOR YOU. You wanted to reply but didn't. You were still pissed off and you wouldn't let him get away easily. You had a plan how to get back at him. Alas, he was gonna kill you for it.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

It was finally Friday. You had put on one of the new dressed that you'd bought. It was a short golden cocktail dress with a bare back. Your hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. A pair of high heels and a makeup look that suited the outfit made you look fuckable.

You had asked Kiyoko and Hitoka to go clubbing with you, which they didn't say no to.

Also, you knew Kuroo would be home late and when he would find out you were out clubbing and other men being able to see you looking like that, he was going to murder either you, the men, or both.

Besides having the two girls with you, you also had Daichi and Tanaka at your side as bodyguards. One thing your grandfather always told you was to always bring them with you whenever you could. Walking up to the club, the bouncers didn't ask for your name, they just moved aside and let you and your company inside. You could feel the ground shaking from the loud music that was blasting from the speakers. It was crowded, as expected for a Friday night. "Be careful boss," Tanaka spoke to you and you smiled at him.

"I will. I'll kill anyone who tries to lay a hand on me." "We know. But be careful," Daichi spoke next. "(Y/n)? Let's go dance," Kiyoko said and interrupted the conversation between the three of you, grabbed yours and Hitoka's hand and pulled the both of you into the dancefloor. The three of you stood in the middle of the dancefloor and moved your bodies to the music. After about 20 minutes it was time for some drinking. Hitoka went to look for an empty table while Kiyoko went to fetch some drinks. Just as you were about to join Hitoka you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you see a tall man, well-built and quite good looking. But he wasn't Kuroo. "Hi, I promised myself that if you were ever to be alone, I'd come and say hello cause you might be one of the prettiest woman I've ever laid eyes on." "Thank you, that's very... sweet. Of. You." Your voice trailed off as behind the man you could see a face you hadn't seen in a while and that face was staring at yours. Kuroo stood by the exit door, both arms by his side and both of his fists clammed together tight. He was angry. He was fuming. He was seeing red. And, to make matters ever worse. You grabbed the stranger by his neck, pulled him down so you could say into his ear "let's dance". Grabbing the strangers hand you pull him farther into the dancefloor, farther away from Kuroo and on queue the song "Love Sex Magic" by Ciara and Justin Timberlake starts playing and you decide to start dancing sexually with the man. Your ass is rubbing teasingly at the stranger’s crotch as his hands are placed on your hips. But they leave you soon and you know why, because soon the stranger is being pulled away from you and you're being dragged across the dancefloor and to the exit. The cold air hits your body as Kuroo is still dragging you until you reach his car. He opens the passenger seats door. "Get in." "I think not. I'm here with my friends and I wanna party, so thanks but no thanks." "(Y/n). Get. In. The. Fucking. Car. NOW!" You decide to listen because; a) he's really pissed and b) your plan had worked out wonderfully. Taking a seat, you buckle up as Kuroo slams the door shut and walks around to sit in the driver’s seat. Kuroo quickly starts the car and speeds away. He drives in silence. The both of you are keeping your mouths shut and it's for the better. "Kuroo, I-" "Shut up. Keep quiet. Don't fucking talk to me right now," he interrupts you. His knuckles turning white from the hard grip he's having on the steering wheel.

You sat quiet in your seat, looking out as you passed the city. The city lights shining on the road. But it was when Kuroo drove into a underground garage that had you stiff in your seat. Where was he taking you? He parked the car and got out quickly. He walked around to your side and opened the car door for you. "Out." You placed both of your feet on the ground and got up, doing it seductively, almost flashing your panties to him. Once you were stable enough on the ground, he grabbed you hand, hard, and pulled you away with him. He was walking fast, a little too fast for your liking. "Kuroo, slow down I can't walk that fast in these heels." "Oh, I'm sorry," you feel yourself being pushed against the cement wall of the garage, his hand around your throat. "Maybe you should've thought about that before you decided to dress up as a whore and go acting like one in one of my clubs." Even though you should be scared, you're not. You're wet by this action of his. The grip around your throat isn't hard, just firm. Like he's holding you in place. You're breathing heavily, your chest moving up and down. Your hard nipples are pressing against the fabric of your dress. "Your club?" Are the words that escape your lips. "Yes. My club. Do you know the frustration I got when I land and get a phone call from my staff there telling me that my fiancée just walked in wearing nothing but a garment around her," his free hand travel from inside your thighs to your core where you want him to touch you. "Would've you have liked anyone else touching you here, is that it?" His fingers teasing you outside of your panties. "Did you want that man touching you, is that it kitten? Or were you thinking that his hands were mine?" Now his fingers flick slightly at your sensitive bud outside of your panties. "N-No," you moan out. "No?" He withdraws from you and starts walking towards the entrance of the building, his hand in yours. You reach a small elevator, inside there's a keypad, he presses some numbers and the doors starts closing. There's tension in the air that could be cut with a knife. You release his hand and cross your arms over your chest and keep looking at him, taking him in. The suit he's wearing looks so good on him. Your eyes travel down to his crotch. You can see the outline of his hard cock.

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch?" The elevator starts to move up, the numbers getting higher in the small screen both above the doors and on the keypads. You still haven't answered him. You still keep looking at his crotch seductively. Kuroo starts moving towards you. You stand still and watch his feet get closer until they're in front of you. "Do you wanna touch it?" You slowly move your head upwards and look into his eyes. They're very intense and hard. Dark even. If looks could kill... Placing your hands on his hips you move them upwards to his chest, feeling his warm and hard muscles underneath, still not breaking eye contact. You slowly back away, being free from him for a second before he pulls you towards him; chest against chest. "Kitten... when your entire life is based on taking everything by force, it's hard to react in a different way. Especially if someone is taking away a pleasure you really desire..." His breath hits you in the face. "Don't provoke me." "Or what?" He presses you hard against the elevator mirror. Both of your hands above your head, his hand holding them in place while his other hand is grabbing your ass cheek. His tongue is invading yours and you welcome it, letting his tongue dance with yours. Tasting whiskey and mint from him. Suddenly the elevator car stops and the pulls away and sets you free, but only to grab your hand and pull you inside an apartment and slam you onto the wall beside the elevator. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to feel your legs for days." "K-Kuroo," you moan out as he starts kissing your throat. "When I fuck you, I want you to call me by my name." His words send shivers down your spine, making your nipples perk harder than before. Kuroo's hands grabs the hem of your dress and rips it apart and throws it behind him, the golden garment landing on the floor. "Kuroo, what the actual fuck?" "I'll buy you a new one," his lips travel to your naked breasts and he starts sucking on your right nipple, making you moan out and throw your head back against the wall. Suddenly he has you in the air and you wrap your legs around his waist, his arms holding you in place and his mouth back on yours as he walks you towards the living room and then into a kitchen. One of his arms lets you go and he throws something, or some things off the kitchen island, the sound of glass breaking on the floor. "I'll have someone clean that up later," he places you on the island and pushes your chest down so you're lying with your back against it. His arms grab your hips and pulls them towards him, your ass being on the edge of the island. "Now... What should we do with you?" He asks with a smirk on his face, his gaze being planted on your pelvis and going down. His fingers trace the edge of your panties, teasing you. Suddenly there's a a sharp dig in your hips and the sound of your panties being torn apart. "You won't be needing them anyway," his lips starts kissing around your areola. "Stop teasing me and just fuck me already," you moan out. Grabbing a hold of his messy hair in your hands. "You don't deserve being fucked just yet," he answers and grabs your thighs and starts kissing down your abdomen and to your core.

His tongue flick at your sensitive bud, making you jump from the friction; both good and bad. Usually, you didn't let men go down on you, you saw it as a type of weakness. A weakness you didn't want and liked showing. But now, here you were spread out naked on a kitchen island while Kuroo sucked on your clit making you shiver, moan and pull on his hair and wanting more. More than you've ever wanted before in your life. Losing control, a control you wanted back but also didn't. "F-Fuck. Kuroo. I- Stop. Shit," you sounded like a confused mess. A mess that Kuroo loved, but he wanted you messier. "Stop? Why? Because you can't control your own body? Oh, kitten... you lost control over your body the minute you became mine." Kuroo's tongue licks up and down your slit, spreading your juices all over. Tasting every bit of you. He then pulls back, and his thumb start to do slow circular motions on your clit. "What do you want, kitten?" "More. I want more." "More of what?" "More of you." "And who am I, kitten? Tell me," his thumb presses a little harder on your clit. Your back arching as the sudden pressure developing in your lower abdomen. "Fuuuuck. I-. Dammit Kuroo." "Not the answer I'm looking for," he stops paying attention to your clit. He stops paying attention to you at all. He just looks at you, waiting for his answer. "Do you always get what you want?" "Isn't it obvious that I do? Now answer my question. Who am I?" "Well. You're a lot of things. An asshole. A sadist. A sexist. A killer. A murderer. A drug lord. A possessive fucked up douche of a man." He then stands up straight and pulls off his suit jacket and throws it on the ground nearby. Then, his fingers start slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt, your eyes gazing at his fingers as they move down and suddenly, he's half naked as he discards his shirt as well. "Get off the island. Turn around and bend over. Spread your legs. NOW!" You take your time getting down, doing it so seductively as you can. His eyes watch your tits jump when you land on the floor and then quickly travel to your ass when you're bent over. "And now what? You gonna spank me?" You let out a small laugh but silence yourself when you hear him unbuckle his belt and remove it from his belt loops. "Spanking to put it mildly. Now, how many times have you disobeyed me?" "Disobeyed? Who do you think-" the harsh pain of his belt hitting your ass cheek has you both stiff and wanting more. "That's one. I think you at least deserve 5 more, kitten." His belt hits you again. And again. And again, until he's hit you 6 times in total. Your ass cheeks red from the friction of the belt hitting you. Your pussy leaking put juices from being so wet from the action. "Hands behind your back," he commands, and you obey, putting your hands behind your back. Kuroo takes the belt and tightens them around your wrists. Once he's done, he takes a step back to admire you from a distance, taking you in. Completely naked, only in those high heels that he wants you to wear while he fucks you. To stab into his lower back while his cock sinks into your folds. "Fucking perfect," he states and gets behind you again and pushes one finger inside your cunt. Your walls clamping around his finger. Wanting more. Needing more. "Fuck. Kuroo. Please." 

”Please what kitten?”

“Please, fuck me. Just fuck me already.” He adds yet another finger inside your cunt and starts pumping them in and out of you.

“Say my name, kitten. Say it.”

“Kuroo.” A slap on your ass cheek and you let out a loud moan from both his fingers giving you pleasure but also from the slap from his hand.

“Say. My. Name.”

“Fuck. Tetsurou. Fuck me Tetsu-Oh my god!” Another slap and his fingers disappear only to be replaced by his cock filling you up all the way.

“Fuck you’re so tight. I can feel you pulsing around me (y/n).” You try pulling your arms but are stopped by the belt holding them together.

“Kur- Tetsurou. Release me. Fuck you’re huge.”

“No and thank you.” He starts slowly thrusting in and out of you. The head of his cock hitting your g-spot softly, building up a pressure inside of you.

“T-Tetsurou. Shit, your cock. Oh.”

“I love it when you say my name. Say it again.”

“Tetsurou.” You moan out. One of his hands grab your ponytail and the other is placed on the middle of your back, pushing you down on the island. His grip on your ponytail tightens and he pulls on it, your head being pulled up slightly. He then starts to quicken his thrusts.

“Fuck kitten, just like that.” Kuroo’s gaze is locked on where the two of you are connected. Seeing his cock disappearing inside of you, going in and out. His cock being covered in your juices. A squelching sound being made from the friction.

“Tetsu. I’m close. Fuck I’m so close.”

“Yes (y/n). Come for me. Come all over my cock.” This does it for you. After almost a whole week of him teasing you, all the moments of sexual tension and him neglecting to make you come this is one of the biggest orgasms you’ve ever had.

“TETSUROU!” You scream. Your mouth wide open, eyes closed and tears falling from your eyes. The pleasure consumes you and you feel your legs wobble and just as you’re about to fall his arms are being wrapped around you, holding you up. Your breathing is heavy and trying to control it, as you move a little you feel him twitch inside of you.

“I’m not finished with you yet, kitten.” You gulp and release a moan as he removes himself from you. His hands go to unbuckle the belt and once you are free you rub your wrists together and slowly turn around to watch the devil in front of you. He is naked and your eyes falls on his hard member between his legs. Your tongue peeks out from your mouth and wets your lips, licking them seductively.

“C’mere,” he speaks, and you obey, walking so you are stood in front of him. Your heels clicking against the hardwood floor. His slightly bends down and picks you up, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your lips connect and he walks the both of you towards his bedroom. He places you on his bed and you lie down.

“You’re fucking beautiful (y/n),” he compliments you and you slightly blush. How could this man’s words affect you this much?

His hands grab your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed, your legs in the air. He bends down and his head is between your legs. He spreads them wide open and starts devouring your opening. Your hands go and grab a hold of his black hair and watch as his mouth is covering your most private part, his eyes watching you.

“Tetsurou. Please give me your cock. I need more.” At first you think he doesn’t hear you over your moans but soon he pulls back and to your surprise he looks at your cunt and spits on it.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he doesn’t give it a second chance as he pushed himself inside of you again. You throw your head back against his bed and moan out loudly. He pulls your legs together and press them against his chest, hugging them as he thrusts hard in you, like some wild animal. The pressure in your lower abdomen coming back like a tsunami.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tetsu, I’m close again. I’m coming. I’m- I- FUCK,” and you come around his cock for a second time in just mere seconds.

“Fuck (y/n). I’m there.”

“Come inside of me.”

“(Y/N)!!” Kuroo releases his load inside of you. Milking his seed inside of you. His head thrown back, a vein of each side of his neck popping out. His mouth is slightly open as he lets out a couple of grunts from his orgasm.

After a minute or two, after the both of you have collected yourself his eyes search for your as he looks at you. Releasing your legs, he throws himself on top of you, one arm going to your lower back and lifting you up so your head is on a pillow. His head lands beside yours. The only sound in the room being the heavy breathing from the two of you. His breath is hitting you in the neck, making you shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“Oh- Um- No. Not really. Are you?”

“Me? I’m fucking sweaty and hot as hell.” You let out a laugh and can’t help but smile. His cock that is still inside of you twitch and you stop laughing.

“Your laugh is beautiful. Don’t stop.”

“Hm, well I stopped because someone twitched inside of me.”

“Oh, really?” He pulls his head up, his hazel eyes watching your (y/e/c) ones. His hips starts to move slightly.

“Mhm, Tetsu.”

“You want more?”

“Mhm, yes.” He places his forearms on each side of your head, his face being inches from yours. His lips crash against yours, him pushing his tongue inside of your mouth and you happily open and let him consume you again. If sex with Kuroo was like this, you never wanted him to stop and he didn’t.

The two of you fucked like two horny teenagers until the sun rose the next morning. After coming for what felt like the 20th time the both of you were both breathless and tired from all the fucking.

“Tetsurou. I want this to work between the two of us so please include me in everything you do, and I mean everything. I don’t want to kill you because this sex got me hooked now.”

Letting out a sigh he watched the ceiling and answers with a simple I’ll try. And that’s enough for you. He pulls you towards him, your back to his front.

“Let’s sleep. You need to recharge the energy you lost.”

“Why? Are we going somewhere?”

“No. But when we wake up, I’m gonna have my way with you again.” You gulp but smile. Closing your eyes and letting sleep consume you.

[hello-everyfandom]

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English."

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader + Best Friend!Fred

Words: 2.1k

Summary: George is irresistible and you’re quite good at pranks. 

Prompt: Requested

103: ““Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English."

(I tried to come up with a prank, turns out I’m not very mischievous!) 

You were usually quite adamant. Stubborn beyond belief. Once you had your mindset, nothing could stand in your way nor change your mind. But, sadly, you did have a weakness. The muggles would call it “kryptonite,” but you would just name it “boyfriend.”

“Please? Please Y/N?” his brown eyes softened and his lips turned downwards into a pout. He held his hands out in front of him, clasped so tightly. “I swear on my life, I will love you till the day I die.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “No. No Georgie, absolutely not.”

“Why!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

“You know why!” 

“I promise you, it’d be really really really funny.” you bit your lip in temptation, George’s eyes didn’t cease to make your knees go weak. “And how,” he kissed you on the cheek, “could I,” another kiss, “even pretend to think,” kiss, “about doing this without my,” he presented you with a long and wet kiss making you squeal and attempt to push him away, “lovely, beautiful and smart girlfriend?”

You laughed. You admit, George Weasley was damn persuasive and charming, but you’d never tell him that fearing his head would grow larger than a pumpkin. “Alright alright, you cheeky little bastard. I’ll help you.” George jumped up in with excitement and began to kissing your face with fast little pecks. “You’re lucky I love you. What’s the plan?”

George’s face turned from pure exhilaration to a sheepish grin, “Well...”

“George...” you said warningly, “what is it?”

“We don’t actually,” he twiddled his thumbs, “have a secure plan yet for the prank.”

“George! Then why would you- I- you are so frustrating sometimes.”

“Yes, I’m fully aware, dear. But, that is why we need your help.”

“Come back to me when you have a fully thought out plan, then we’ll talk.” You pat his cheek and then sat down on the courtyard bench only to be pulled up to your feet again.

“You’re one of the brightest witches in our year-”

“Try ‘universe’” you snorted back,

“Yes! Precisely. See, you already know how bloody wicked you are. With your head combined with ours, there’s no way this prank can go wrong.”

“That’s what someone would say before a prank goes terribly wrong,” you pointed out. George hushed you with his finger and slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Let’s not focus on the negatives,” he said rather quickly.

“Well,” you huffed and gathered your bag that was draped over the bench, tucking it over your arm and pushing against George for warmth, you succumbed to George’s begging, “Fine. I guess the prank will maybe be funny.”

“It will be, my love. Just you wait.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this and I, wait.” you scanned the grass, “where’s Fred?”

“He’s in detention cleaning the broom closet,”

“For what?”

“Erm- a prank gone wrong?” George sent you another sheepish look before steering you away to Gryffindor tower.

“Fred, push over, will you?” you hissed quietly. Your focus was greatly inhibited by the twins beside you giddy with excitement. 

“I can’t believe we’ve pulled this off,” Your boyfriend rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“Brilliant. We’re absolutely brilliant,” Fred said. He must’ve noticed your annoyed face because he also slapped his hand on your shoulder too, “But, brilliance only comes in three. Cheers, Y/N.”

“Mhm,” you hummed sarcastically before finishing the final touches on the prank. “Fine! I’ll admit it, this prank is a work of art.”

“Yes!” George planted a kiss on your cheek, “Finally! Nothing is more attractive than a confident woman,”

“Don’t make me regret this, Weasley.” You placed your back against his chest, he automatically wrapped his arms around you, smelling your hair.

“I think we’ve finally outdone ourselves, no one will forget our names. George, the charming. Fred, the clever, witty, exuberant, respected, provocating, absolutely dashin-”

“Get on with it, Freddie,” you laughed,

“and of course, the maid of honor, the mastermind, Y/N Y/L/N the... nice?”

“The only thing you could come up with is ‘nice’? Do you even know what ‘exuberant’ means?” 

“Let’s not get caught up on the specifics,” Fred waved his hand and stared in amazement. You giggled a bit, reminded of before when George had said a very similar thing to his twin. They really were a pair of wonder.

“Whatever. Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.” you turned and pointed to George and then yourself.

“Oi, and what about me?” Fred asked, insulted.

You tapped your lip in feinging to be deep in thought, “you act dumb, then you won’t really have to change that much.”

“Ouch!” Fred gasped and covered his mouth, “George, are you going to say anything to your woman?” 

George shook his head and stared at you with a look one would simply call love, “My lady said what she said.”

“You’re more whipped than I thought,” Fred rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile.

The three of you bounced away, pushing each other in the corridors and giggling about how magnificent this prank would be. By the time dinner rolled around, you were shaking anxiously. Sure, you’ve pulled pranks before but those were simple. Setting a dung bomb off or setting free a bunch of skrewts was amateur compared to this. This? This was a high scale, perhaps maybe even expulsion, worthy prank. But, watching George wink at you from across the table made your heart flutter. Fred sat next to you, whispering to Lee Jordan,

“You’re in for a treat,” Fred’s face turned smug,

“Oh bloody bollocks, Fred, if I’m going to eat something tonight that will turn my nose into a pig snout, I will goose you into the next dimension,” Lee warned.

“Relax, Jordan.” Fred’s eyes pointed towards the ceiling,

“Let me rephrase then if anything goes into my hair, my wand is going straight up your arse.”

“On my honour, Lee, nothing will happen to you.” You assured him, pinching his arm softly.

“But after you see it, you’ll go mad and kiss our feet,” George smiled wildly, his body fidgeting with excitement. Students began to walk in steadily, each reaching their table and taking a seat and chatting like birds. Almost everyone was at dinner before the twins, you and Lee all excitedly huddled together to watch Professor Dumbledore rise to the podium. 

“Wait for it,” you whispered under your breath. Dumbledore’s hand began to rise slowly, initiating the dinner to commence. Delicious meals of roast beef, potatoes, gravy, and peas flooded the table. The smell nearly distracted you from the prank, however, George squeezed your hand making you more anxious and exhilarated. The twins began to count down under their breath as Dumbledore’s hand began to fall.

“Three.” George said,

“Two.” You chimed,

“One.” Fred’s lips smirked.

For a second, nothing happened. It almost made your heart sink, thinking your prank had failed. However, your thoughts were proven wrong when the floating candles above the Great Hall exploded. Streaks of red paint sprayed the other houses and narrowly missed the teacher’s table. Students screamed in surprise, feeling the red ink stain their clothes and hair. Immediately, the Gryffindor table erupted into laughter. Their laughter only increased louder and heavier when the ceiling above the dinner tables popped and rained gold glitter that fluttered around and landed on top of people’s heads. You, especially, had charmed the remaining gold to form the letter’s “Gryffindor Rules,” above the teacher’s table. Some students began to laugh out of sheer surprise and some of your housemates began to clap. However, it was the Slytherin table that started to curse loudly. They shouted angrily and quickly tried to wipe the paint off of them. However, George had patted you on the back earlier for this idea, you had enchanted the paint to become more pigmented and darker if anyone tried to rub it off.  

“Professor Dumbledore, EXPEL them at once!” You heard someone yell from the Slytherin tables, a few people joined in and agreed.

“Alright,” Lee wheezed, trying to catch his breath, “that was bloody brilliant. Congratulations, I’ve never felt more proud of you lot.”

The three of your sneakily high fived before Dumbledore tried to calm down the students. If you looked closely enough, you could see a gleam of amusement in Dumbledore’s eyes before he spoke,

“Children, please. Calm down.” He waved his wand, attempting to remove the paint from the student’s bodies. Nothing. Nothing seemed to work. Even McGonagall tried and couldn’t seem to lift the paint nor the glitter. Gryffindor students continued their laughter and praised the Weasley twins. 

“Please return to your dormitories and wash up. We will continue the dinner in one hour. However, whoever has pulled this prank will receive extreme punishment.” McGonagall warned. Immediately students rose up and hurried to their common rooms. A few Ravenclaws and a handful of Hufflepuffs commended the three of you whilst the Slytherin house shot sharp daggers your way. Pride filled your chest as you stood.

“That was-”

“Bloody amazing.” The twins said together.

George lifted you up in the air, twirling you before putting you down and Fred doing the same. You giggled and shoved them away.

“We did it! Did you see the look on Slytherin’s slimy faces? They’ll never forget this,” George kissed you multiple times before throwing himself at Fred.

“Genius.” Fred pressed a chef kiss to his lips, “Oh, we are absolute geniuses. We pulled it off!”

You froze, hearing someone clear their throat from behind you. “And what exactly is ‘it’?” McGonagall asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Her face was terrifying to look at, it was as if you were disappointing your mother or even worse, grandmother. She tapped her foot, looking at the three of you, an irritated look was clear on her pursed lips. 

“Uh, uh.” you stuttered, “Ne parle pas anglais?” you butchered French terribly, but it was the only thing your mind could possibly think of in such circumstances. Nudging George with a harsh bump into his ribs, he jumped and said,

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything about any paint. I can’t see it! I’m uh, blind. ” George sputtered making you facepalm.

“And I’m dumb.” Fred nodded, agreeing with George completely. 

“George!” you groaned, “I said deaf, not blind.” 

“There’s a difference?” George asked, confused. Fred sighed and put his face in his hands. You smiled guiltily at your Professor.

“You three. Detention. Tomorrow morning at seven, sharp.”

“For what, Professor?” you asked innocently,

“It is rather insulting you have to ask, Ms. Y/N. But, to be specific, the paint you have so generously covered the student body with.” 

“But, Professor? What paint?” you asked curiously, waving your hand around to draw her attention to the students near you. George and Fred’s eyes turned too, watching as the red stains and gold glitter slowly begin to lift itself off of the students and disappear into thin air. McGonagall’s lips parted before darting her eyes to look at even more students who looked at their clothing and hands confusedly, seconds before, sticky crimson covered everywhere they could touch, and next? Nothing. George’s eyes bulged and Fred’s lips turned from a nervous frown into a grin.

“I see you’ve gotten better with your charms and spells,” McGonagall faced you finally,

“I’ve learned from the best.” you sent her a smile, “Surely, we cannot be given detention without proof, right Professor?” 

“Yes, Professor. We’ve done nothing wrong.” George slung his arm around your shoulder. 

“We’re entirely innocent!” Fred added.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” All three of you declared. 

McGonagall looked at her students again, hummed in disapproval, turned on her heel and clicked back to the Great Hall.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, George presses his lips to yours in a delighted and thrilling kiss. His hands are on your butt, pulling you closer and passionately kissing you. He pulls away breathless, “I’m mad for you, woman. How the hell did you do that?”

You shrugged, “You two truly must learn one very, a key important part of a prank. Always have a getaway plan.”

Fred’s face was shocked as he slowly bowed to you, “My Queen.”

“Stand, Fred the Exuberant. Join us, George the Charming and Y/N the Lovely. We must attend our feast.” You lifted your hand and posed regally before you all burst into fits. You wrapped your arms around George and Fred and strutted into the hall. “By the way, Georgie, do you really not know the difference between deaf and blind?”

“Does it matter? You’re obviously the smart one of the group.” Your boyfriend leaned and smooched you once more. 

[andawaywego]

Your damie fics are giving me life tho! Could you do a fic where flora wakes up in the middle of the night and while scanning her doll house sees Jamie’s doll in Dani’s room. She asks about it in the morning at breakfast innocently, hilarity ensues as Dani chokes on her tea.

dude, i loved this. it got away from me. i hope you enjoy this, too! it exists in some kinda side-AU wherein most things are the same except...you know...it takes longer for everything to fall apart.

..

“Miles!” Flora calls without turning. “Stop moving my dolls!”

There’s a thud from his bedroom behind her. Flora ignores the sound and pets the doll version of Rebecca’s hair as she cradles it in her hands. Everything else seems to be in order. Owen’s doll is in the kitchen. Hannah’s doll is in the hallway. The others are scattered about in the usual places. So long as the Lady isn’t there, Flora has decided to be content about it.

Save for one thing:

Jamie’s doll is in Dani’s room. 

Specifically, Jamie’s doll is in Dani’s bed.

But that doesn’t make any sense. Normally, when she wakes up, Jamie’s doll is nowhere to be seen. If she looks in the middle of the day, sometimes she’ll find her in the kitchen or the entry room. Some nights, Flora will go to bed with Hannah, Owen, Dani, and Jamie’s dolls in the sitting room or the kitchen.

“I didn’t move your dolls!” Miles calls back.

“Yes, you did!” 

Footsteps through their shared bathroom and then Miles is standing behind her. “They look alright to me,” he says. “I didn’t touch them. I wouldn’t.”

“Then why is Jamie’s in Miss Clayton’s room?” Flora asks, pointing at the doll currently sharing Dani’s bed.

Miles is quiet for a long moment and then he shrugs. “Maybe that’s where she is,” he says, then steps away and heads for her bedroom door. “Let’s go. I want breakfast.” He flings her door open and thunders down the hallway to the stairs, Hannah calling after him to slow down.

Setting Rebecca’s doll down in the sitting room, Flora considers leaving Jamie where she is, but thinks better of it. She plucks the doll up and moves her down to the kitchen where Miles’s now is, setting her to stand by Owen, then gets up to get dressed.

__________

By the time she gets down to the kitchen, Jamie really is there, but so is Dani now. They’re sitting at the table with Miles and Owen, talking quietly to one another. Flora sits beside her brother in front of a plate of eggs and toast and watches them interact.

Dani always seems very happy when she’s talking to Jamie. Flora understands that. She likes Jamie too. Jamie’s funny and nice and really cool. Sometimes she lets Flora help her prune the roses, which she says is dangerous because of the shears they have to use. She said once that Flora is her favorite helper and Flora told her she was being silly because no one else ever really helps Jamie. She doesn’t normally let them.

“Good morning,” Flora says. Only Owen greeted her when she entered and it feels strange to sit in silence.

Immediately, Dani turns to her and grins. “Good morning, Flora,” she says. “Miles said you were already up and ready. Did you sleep okay?”

Flora nods and takes a crunching bite of her toast. “Yes, very well.” She swallows and looks between Jamie and Dani. “Were you in Miss Clayton’s bedroom today, Jamie?” she asks next, needing to know.

Three strange things happen when she does this:

First, Owen chokes on his water, Jamie gives him a dirty look, and Dani's eyes get so big that Flora’s worried they might pop.

“Sorry,” Owen says, wiping his face off with a napkin.

“Should be,” Jamie mutters.

He gives her a strange sort of smile that Flora doesn’t understand.

Finally, Jamie turns her attention to Flora, looking very serious and contemplative. Flora doesn’t like it when Jamie is serious. Usually it’s because she’s sad. Flora likes it when Jamie smiles and laughs because she’s very pretty when she does that.

But she isn’t doing that now. 

“Why do you ask, poppet?” she says.

Flora nearly tells her the truth, but she doesn’t want to upset anyone. Sometimes the things in her dollhouse are upsetting. “I don’t know,” she answers.

Jamie stares her down. “Right.” A pause. “Well, yes, I was. I went to wish Miss Clayton a good morning.”

When Flora looks at Dani, Dani is hiding her face behind her mug, taking a long drink without looking at anyone. She’d like to say she knows when people are lying and she really thinks Jamie is, but she’s not sure why she would lie about that. Saying good morning doesn’t usually involve being in bed. At least, not in Flora’s experience.

Instead of prodding any further, Flora fixes Jamie with her best smile and says, “You could have done that at breakfast, silly.”

And Jamie smiles back which makes Flora almost immediately forget about anything else. “Yeah,” she says. “Suppose I could have.”

Dani is quiet for the rest of breakfast. She keeps giving Jamie looks that Flora doesn’t understand, but Flora is hungry and tired of being confused. She decides to let it go.

__________

That is, until that very night when she wakes up thirsty. It’s late and very dark in her bedroom, but the moon is shining in through her windows enough that she can make it to the bathroom. There’s a cup beside the sink and she has to lean forward really far to grab it so she can fill it up.

Back in her bedroom, she sits on her bed and sips at her water, looking over at her dollhouse. She normally keeps it open at night in case the Lady shows up, but she can’t see anything except for the shadowy shape of the house’s innards. In the dark, the whole blackened out inside looks like it’s breathing, pulsing. Like it’s alive.

Frightened, Flora quickly reaches for the lamp beside her bed and turns it on, spilling a little water on her rug in the process. It’s funny how normal it looks in the light. How it’s anything but despite its observable simplicity. It looks exactly as it had when she’d looked in on it before going to bed.

Except—

Jamie’s doll is in Dani’s bed again.

Specifically, Jamie’s doll is on top of Dani’s.

Flora splutters, fumbling to set her cup down and jumps to her feet hurrying out into the hallway. It’ll be tricky to open Dani’s door quietly and peek in just to see if Jamie really is in there or if there’s something truly strange going on.

Well, Flora thinks. Stranger.

The floorboards around Dani’s bedroom door squeak in some places, so Flora makes sure to set her feet carefully around those points. Holding her breath, she concentrates on trying to listen as closely as she can. Waiting for wet footsteps, maybe, or that sound Peter made when that ghost-white hand wrapped around his throat.

Maybe for Dani to scream.

She’s not really certain. But she’s shivering and it’s not because she’s cold.

She notices it after a few seconds—a squeaking sound. It’s strange, like the kind of noise her bed makes when she jumps up and down on it—which she doesn’t anymore because that’s for children, thank you.

Carefully, she reaches out and grasps the doorknob, the cool metal making her jump when it hits her palm. Taking a deep breath, she turns it and opens it just the slightest amount, peeking inside. It’s too dark to make out anything clearly, even darker than the hallway. Dani’s curtains are drawn, hiding the moon and any light that might have strayed inside.

Flora can’t see much save for the shapes on the bed, a big lumpy mass that’s moving a little. She’s not actually sure what it is and the thought terrifies her—makes her imagine the worst things possible. Some sort of giant, sludge-y monster that’s come out from the lake and come inside. And it ate Dani in her bed and now it’s going to come for her, too.

She makes a little noise and then takes a step backward. The floorboard creaks loudly under her foot and she gasps. The mass stops moving and she hears something that sounds like whispering so she pulls Dani’s door shut, turns on her heels, and runs back into her bedroom where she dives underneath her covers, pulling them up over her head.

The light from the lamp seeps through her blankets, pink and strange and her breath is coming out heavily, hotly. It’s too stuffy and she feels like she’s going to suffocate but if she moves, if that thing sees her—

As distracted as she is imagining all the different terrible ways this could end, she doesn’t hear her door open. Nor does she hear the footsteps coming towards her bed. 

So when the blankets get pulled down, she shrieks, expecting some horribly monstrous thing. Instead, she is met by the sight of Dani—ruffled hair and flushed cheeks and her robe wrapped tightly around her body.

“Miss Clayton!” Flora cries, jumping up to throw her arms around the woman. “I was worried you’d been eaten!”

“Eaten?” Dani asks, hugging Flora back. “Honey, what—?”

“I thought something terrible happened! That some monster ate Jamie and ate you and was going to come for me next!”

Dani pulls away, holding Flora’s shoulders in her hands as she looks her over. “Did you have a nightmare?” She presses the back of her hand to Flora’s forehead for a moment before pulling it away. “You don’t have a fever,” she says, frowning.

“I’m not sick,” Flora says, shaking her head resolutely. “Jamie was in your bed and I thought it was because a monster ate her.” She points to her dollhouse and Dani looks, but it’s no use. 

The dolls have already shifted. Flora is in her bedroom on her bed, Dani’s doll standing beside it, and Jamie’s is in the doorway. Flora lifts her eyes to see—

“Jamie! You’re alive!” 

In a flash, she’s out of her bed and slamming her body into Jamie’s, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. As excited as she is, she doesn’t notice that the only thing Jamie is wearing is a large t-shirt that hands mid-thigh, and she certainly doesn’t notice that it’s Dani’s.

“Alive?” she asks, placing one hand on Flora’s head and the other on her shoulder.

“She thought a monster ate us,” Dani explains. “Because she saw you in my bed.”

“She what?” Jamie asks, sounding shocked and frightened.

Flora pulls away, wanting to reassure her. “I thought it had gotten you. Your doll was in Miss Clayton’s bed, so I thought—”

“Oh, Christ,” Jamie says, then winces and looks down at Flora. “Sorry.”

“I’ve heard you say that before,” Flora tells her.

Over her shoulder, Dani gives Jamie a stern look.

“That why you were hanging ’round outside Miss Clayton’s room?” Jamie asks and Flora nods. 

“I was worried something terrible happened, so I went to look and that’s when I saw the...thing.”

“What thing?” Dani asks, her words rushed and panicked. 

“The...black blob-y thing. But it must have just been a shadow,” Flora explains, then hesitates. “Jamie?”

Jamie is wild-eyed when she looks down at her. “Yeah?”

“What were you doing in Miss Clayton’s room?”

A long stretch of silence follows this, one that makes Flora fidget nervously. Dani and Jamie are looking at one another, having some sort of conversation without saying anything. Flora remembers her parents doing that before. It frustrates her when she doesn’t know what’s going on, and she’s just about to say that when Dani cuts in.

“She had a nightmare,” she says. “You know how when you get nightmares, you come in and I help you get back to sleep?” 

Flora nods. Dani is very good at chasing away bad dreams. Her mom used to be good at it, too, but it’s nice to have someone again. “You were doing that for Jamie,” she says and Dani nods. Flora looks up at Jamie with a serious look on her face. “She’s very good at that. I hope you’re not afraid anymore.”

Jamie’s jaw is dropped open a little. She closes it, then opens it again. Says, “I’m not. All good now, yeah? Why don’t we get you back to bed?”

They do just that, Dani tucking Flora in and petting her hair, kissing her forehead and Flora snuggles warmly beneath her blankets. It should feel strange to have Jamie there to say goodnight, but it doesn’t. Flora watches as Jamie reaches out to hold Dani’s hand and decides that she rather likes it.

“Stay in bed, okay?” Dani says and Flora nods emphatically.

“You, too, Miss Clayton,” she reminds her and Dani nods, agrees.

“Goodnight, Flora.”

“Goodnight.”

On their way out, Flora thinks she hears Jamie say something like, “I’ll make sure you stay in bed.” Thinks maybe Dani giggles. Can’t be sure. 

She falls asleep soon after that.

__________

The next morning, Jamie has breakfast with them again and her and Dani keep holding hands and smiling at one another. Owen notices, too, and winks at Flora, making her laugh.

“Did you have anymore nightmares, Jamie?” Flora asks, sipping her juice and swinging her legs in her chair, sun-happy and soft.

Jamie glances at Dani with a smirk then turns Flora’s way and says, “Not a one.”

..

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 6

part 1 | part 5 | part 7

A/N: I can’t tell you how much it means to me that so many people like this fic. Y’all are seriously so sweet ❤️here’s part 6

“No!” He drew his dao blades and slashed. They danced around each other like old times. Though both of them had a longer reach and more strength behind each blow, it felt exhilaratingly like back when they were children. Y/N missed the challenge of fighting against two blades. 

“What do you think this is?” Ty Lee held up something with two fingers to show Y/N and Mai. Something that was sopping wet and disgusting.

They had stopped along the river to stretch their legs and get some fresh air while Azula conferred with Lo and Li. Ty Lee was currently wading back to the bank from the river where Mai and Y/N were basking in the sun, still clutching–whatever it was. 

“Always rule number one: don’t pick up dead things, Ty Lee.” Mai waved her away when she got near. 

“Ew, get it away from me!” Y/N shrieked and giggled when Ty Lee tossed it in her lap. 

“It’s not dead, it’s fur or something,” Ty Lee said defensively. She sat between them and crossed her arms. 

Y/N poked it with one finger. She was right, it wasn’t anything dead, just a clump of white fur. She could tell that it was soft, even though it was wet. Y/N looked around them. There were more clumps in the water floating away with the slow pace of the river, there was even some blowing in the wind on the bank. Y/N threw the wet patch of fur away and ran to grab a dry piece. She rubbed it between her fingers as she walked back to the other two girls. 

“What are you thinking?” Mai asked. 

“I think that this is a way to find the Avatar,” Y/N said absentmindedly. 

“How is that patch of fur going to help us find the Avatar?” Ty Lee asked. 

“I think it will help us track them. Look around–” Y/N gestured to the clumps of white all over. There was more than she had seen before, “–it’s everywhere, even in the tops of the trees. I think that maybe it’s fur from their sky bison.” 

Ty Lee gasped. “Let’s go tell Azula!” She shot to her feet and did a celebratory cartwheel in the direction of the machine. 

“Does anyone know why we’re even going after the Avatar?” Mai asked. She hadn’t moved from her spot in a patch of sunlight. She raised one sharp eyebrow waiting for their answer. 

“Because Azula–”

“No, Ty Lee, not why we are searching for him. But why does he need to be captured at all? Why was Zuko sent after him when he was banished?” Mai shrugged like the answer didn’t really matter. 

Y/N looked around nervously. They were alone, but it didn’t mean they were able to talk freely. “We shouldn’t concern ourselves with the why. The only thing we need to worry about is doing what we’re told.” It was the answer that Y/N was expected to give. And any other time it would be the answer that satisfied her. But this time it didn’t. What Mai said stuck with her, she wondered the same thing: why were they doing this?

That question continued to swirl in her head as Y/N pretended sleep that night during her allotted shift while the other girls kept watch. She just laid there listening to the metal contraption roll and creak over the ground. It wasn’t her place to question orders, and most of the time she didn’t; she listened and did what was asked of her. So why was she so worried about it now? 

Y/N had learned in school about the Avatar and what their mission in the world was. Peace and prosperity sounded nice, but something had happened long ago, when the war had started. Y/N could never be sure, stories were different, but she thought she remembered hearing that the airbenders had amassed an army and had to be eliminated because the Fire Nation feared their destruction. Now it was the job of the Fire Nation to spread that peace and prosperity between the nations. But, the other nations were resistant to it. It had been one hundred years, why were they all still fighting? Y/N had to admit, the way they were going after the Avatar and his Water Tribe friends wasn’t sitting right with her. It felt vaguely like a hunting party…

These were all questions she wasn’t supposed to think about, much less ask outloud. Azula had the answers but that didn’t mean she was going to give them up if Y/N opened her mouth. She turned over on her other side and tried to push everything out of her mind; to ignore all those nagging thoughts about how this feels wrong! and just get some sleep. Morning and daylight would bring clarity. And surely once they actually caught up to the Avatar all would be revealed. 

It felt like she had just closed her eyes when someone shook Y/N’s shoulder. She gasped and sat up quickly. “What’s happened?” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mai yawned.

“Is it your turn?”

“No, we spotted their camp. Come on.” 

----

“These things terrify me.” Y/N patted the hide of her lizard-hound and watched the skin shiver over layers of hard muscle. 

Azula rolled her eyes and huffed. “Just get on.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose as she slid her foot in the stirrup and kicked her other leg over the saddle. She could feel the lizard hound already tugging at the reins, only held back by her two hands, lucky that she would get the one who desperately wanted to escape. 

The wall of the car that they were in lowered and the four of them led their lizard hounds down the ramp. It was still pitch black out, save for the moon which lit their way. They were in the mountains now. A thin road ahead of them led to three–wait, four kids standing on the edge of a cliff looking over them. Y/N kicked the lizard hound and together they all started running. 

Each of the four kids got into fighting stances and suddenly large rocks erupted in front of them. Their respective lizard hounds scaled the rocks easily without direction and continued running. Apparently, the Avatar had found an earthbender to travel with. 

Three of them ran back to the sky bison, while the last one, a girl in green raised a large rock wall meant to cut Y/N and her friends off. So, a really good earthbender. 

Next to her, Azula dropped her reins and shot a bolt of lightning at it, crumbling a section for them to climb through. Mai threw four knives at the earthbender that were deflected by another rock that launched the girl into the sky bison’s saddle. Azula’s streak of blue fire she opened up on them just missed as they flew away. 

The four girls sat and watched as the Avatar and his friends flew out their grasp once again. The white speck of their bison got smaller and smaller until he disappeared on the horizon. 

Azula let out a frustrated scream and turned her lizard hound back around and ran back to the machine. Mai sighed loudly and the three of them shared a look and headed back themselves. 

“Too bad we don’t have a flying bison,” Ty Lee said, dejectedly. 

“They’ll get tired flying all night.” Y/N looked to the east and saw the pinky hues of an incoming sunrise. 

----

“More wads of wet fur,” Mai mused. “How delightful.” The girls had pulled off at the banks of the same river that they had found the wet fur in first, just much farther upstream. Azula bent down to pick them up and wandered off to look around. 

“They’re not wads, more like bundles or–” Ty Lee screwed up her face as she searched for a word. 

“Clumps?” Y/N supplied. 

Ty Lee jumped into her arms and hugged her tight. “Yes! Clumps!”

Y/N laughed at her as she hugged back and watched Azula study the trees over Ty Lee’s shoulder. 

“The trail goes this way.” Mai pointed off to the right. 

Azula looked to the trail of fur and then back to the trees. “The Avatar is trying to give us the slip. Mai, Ty Lee, you head in this direction.” Azula pointed to the trees she was looking at seconds before. “Y/N and I will follow this trail.” 

Before parting ways, Y/N pulled Ty Lee aside. “You two be careful.” she tugged softly on the other girl’s braid. 

“You too,” She said brightly. Y/N looked back at Azula who was already mounting her lizard hound and getting ready to leave Y/N behind if she didn’t hurry up. 

Y/N sighed. “Yeah, let’s hope.”

----

They traveled through the forest, into the mountains and into the desert before they saw it. A little derelict town on the edge of civilization. The buildings were worn and falling apart; and sitting right in the middle of it was the Avatar. His staff lay across his lap and he looked exhausted. Good, Y/N thought. It’ll be easier to convince him to come back to the Fire Nation if he can’t think too hard.

“All right you’ve caught up with me. Now who are you and what do you want?” He asked. His voice was high, he was young. Just a kid. Azula and her both slid off their lizard-hounds and walked closer, dust raised with every step. 

“You mean you haven’t guessed? You don’t see the family resemblance? Here’s a hint–” Azula covered her left eye and deepened her voice. “–I must find the Avatar to restore my honor.” 

When that didn’t get a rise out of the Avatar, she smiled. “It’s okay. You can laugh. It’s funny.” 

Y/N didn’t think it was.

“So what now?” the Avatar asked.

“It’s over.” Y/N said. “You’re tired and you have no place to go–”

“–You can run, but we’ll catch you.” Azula added. 

“I’m not running.” he stood up with his staff.

“Do you really want to fight me?” Azula taunted.

“Yes, I really do,” A husky voice said from the shadows of a worn building. 

Y/N gasped. “Zuko..”

He jumped down from his ostrich-horse and threw his wide-brimmed hat to the side. His ponytail was gone, his hair was close cropped to his head. The significance of it didn’t evade her. Zuko had cut off his topknot. He’d cut off the Fire Nation. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up Zu-zu,” Azula used his childhood nickname to cut him a little deeper. Y/N could hear the Avatar giggle from where he stood. 

“Back off Azula, he’s mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Y/N slowly started sliding away from Azula. She didn’t need to be part of this sibling rivalry. If she could just edge to the side and get to the Avatar…

“Don’t act like I can’t see you moving, Y/N.” 

She drew her sword slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Using his distraction to her advantage, Azula launched a blue fire ball at Zuko. He blocked it with his own fire but was still thrown backwards, tumbling through a pole. 

The Avatar opened his glider up and tried to fly away but Azula threw a whip of fire on top of him forcing him back to the ground and to use his staff to blow the flames away. Azula then climbed onto the roof and ran along the edge to drop down closer to the Avatar. 

Y/N focused on Zuko. He readied himself to throw fire at Azula’s back when she knocked his arm away with the flat of her blade. The fire flew left and caught one of the buildings on fire instead. “Just let us have him!” She yelled.

“No!” He drew his dao blades and slashed. They danced around each other like old times. Though both of them had a longer reach and more strength behind each blow it felt exhilaratingly like back when they were children. Y/N missed the challenge of fighting against two blades. 

She blocked, stabbed and twisted her wrist just right to disarm him of his right-handed blade. He punched with a fist of fire and she was too slow to dodge. She ducked and tried to block most of it with her sword but she still felt flames lick her arm. She yelped as she felt her sleeve sear into her flesh. 

Zuko froze. 

Y/N knocked his other sword from his hand and punched him in the face. He fell to his back and she ran, following Azula and the Avatar inside of one of the buildings. 

Her arm was numb. That was expected

What she didn’t expect was to fall through the floor. She twisted midair to grab the ledge. She made to pull herself up but ducked as she saw Zuko come barreling in. He fell right to the first floor with a yell. 

She dropped down next to him and Azula was knocked down by a blast of air. The Avatar ran out of the building and Y/N followed. “Avatar! Stop!” She ordered. 

He didn’t. But they both turned when they heard an explosion behind them. Zuko lay in the street unconscious and Azula walked towards them unharmed. Blue flames danced on her fingertips. 

But he still wasn’t giving up. The Avatar jumped between two buildings to avoid the fire Azula threw at him. Until she cut away the building he was climbing with her fire and he fell in. 

Y/N followed behind Azula as they entered the building. Azula lit two fires along the walls of the room, surrounding the Avatar in fire. He was trapped more ways than one. There was also a beam that had fallen and was keeping him from bending. 

Y/N tugged on Azula’s arm. “Let‘s get him and go. This has been more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Just wait,” she commanded. She held up two fingers and stalked towards the airbender.

Just then, a rope of water shot out of the doorway pulling her arm back. 

“Again?” Y/N groaned. She cut the rope of water, and ran after the waterbender with Azula hot on her heels. 

The waterbender took a quick turn to the right and Y/N was surprised by the waterbender’s brother who came out swinging. She blocked one blow which made her arm shake with effort. She caught the hook of his club with her sword on his upstroke and pulled it straight out of his hands. She grabbed his club mid-air and threw it far enough away that he couldn’t run and get it. 

“Really?” she asked, exasperated.

“Really,” he echoed, pulling his boomerang out from behind his back. Y/N began to back away. 

Azula stepped in front of Y/N blocking the airbending and waterbending assault coming at them. Y/N worked to find a way out. 

That is before the ground was pulled out from beneath them like a rug and they fell into one another. That earthbender was back.

Azula and Y/N rolled off of one another and ran, Azula threw balls of fire behind her to keep the others a bay. And Y/N thought they were home free until she ran into someone large enough to knock her down. Iroh and Zuko stood over her. Azula grabbed her arm and pulled her up. They were cornered, literally. 

Iroh, Zuko, the three benders and the water tribe boy stood in a half circle trapping them. 

“Well, look at this, Y/N. Enemies and traitors teaming up against us. I’m done. I know when I’m beaten.”

Y/N gaped at her friend standing there with her hands up in surrender. “Um, I’m not done?” She looked out to the people surrounding them. She raised her sword. If this was a last stand it was going to be a hell of a fight. She remembered words her father had all but burned in her mind. You never, ever surrender. You die before kneeling in front of the enemy. Promise me you’ll do as I say, Y/N…

Y/N blinked and she almost missed it. 

She just caught the tail end of a fireball hitting Iroh in the chest. He fell into a heap on the ground. 

The next thing she knew, Y/N was raising her sword to block the boomerang aimed for her head and she was engulfed in flames. 

Azula’s blue flames. 

They surrounded both of them like a shield from the other benders who released everything they had against the two of them. 

There was an explosion as the four elements bombarded their shield. And then black smoke filled the town. Azula grabbed Y/N’s hand and they ran, using the smoke to cover their escape. 

Y/N wasn’t sure how her legs were still working. They mounted their lizard-hounds that had run out of the town from the fight and were waiting nearby and they galloped through the desert back in the direction they came from. 

Y/N’s mind raced. She kept turning over what she thought about this morning. All would be revealed. All would be revealed. Azula had just tried to kill her Uncle, hell Iroh could be dead for all she knew. And it wasn’t an accident. And Azula had used her as a distraction to do it. 

She knew the response Y/N would have to surrendering. She knew what Y/N would say if she was asked to stand down. Y/N had just fought side by side with someone she didn’t recognize anymore. 

Tears blurred her vision as they rode their lizard-hounds through the mountains. It was dark, the sun had set hours before, but she still hid her face. Azula couldn’t see her cry. 

She didn’t even know what she was crying for. Her arm that burned like it was still on fire? Iroh whom, she barely knew? Zuko, who for the first time ever, had looked at her like she was the enemy? Or was it because she was confused? Because Y/N had never been so conflicted in her life. Fighting was easy, but feelings and emotions and ideas were getting in the way. 

The same fear that had burned in her when Azula lit the net on fire underneath Ty Lee built up in her chest again. It made it so hard to breathe. 

A/N: so what did you guys think? Definitely more animosity on Y/N’s part. The end of this was loaded with feelings. If you can’t tell, things are breaking down fast. I also added in some of the things that Y/N was taught when she was younger; some propaganda from the Fire Nation school, some things she learned from her father. 

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon , @reclusive-chicken-nugget , @astroninaaa , @bubblebars , @beifongsss @crownofcryptids , @welovediaaxx @littlefluu , @lozzybowe , @thebluelcdy ,  @ohjustlookalive​ ,  @sugarmoongey